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Taking Hold of the Flame battle royal
Topic Started: May 20 2016, 12:13 PM (1,623 Views)
Daisy Lee
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Red Rayne
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[align=center]Anything with the “REC” on it is Viewable to the Public.

The Views Expressed By Red Rayne Do Not Reflect Those of the Publisher. VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

Click on the Bottom Pic to Access the Shoot Portion of the Match at the End of the CD.
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[align=center]Posted Image[/align]

[align=center] THE RED FLAME [/align]
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Street
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"The Hellcat" Regan Helms
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Please Click On the Bottom Pic of the CD Portion of the Role Play To Access the Match Shoot
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[align=center]Posted Image[/align]


[align=center] A HELL OF A FLAME [/align]
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Kelcey Wallace
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The Perfect 10
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[align=center] THE PERFECT FLAME [/align]
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The Voice
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OOC: Guys, this Cain RP was written on my cell phone, so I am sorry if there are spelling or word issues. While I was writing it, I received word that something terrible has happened in my personal life, and I honestly almost stopped writing it. But then I decided to use it, so it's a smaller rp, but hopefully, you will enjoy it all the same. Best of luck to all.





[align=center]Posted Image









Ok... and...



3...

2...

1...







HAPPY NEW YEAR!







CUE TITLE CREDITS!













Now i know what you are all thinking. I know! But VIXEN IT'S NOT JANUARY! IT'S JULY!



No freaking duh, Big Ben! But this is Taking Hold of the Flame! This is the biggest match of the year! There's going to be 40 people fighting for the chance at a world title! Can you believe that? Oh... and last year at this very pay per view, the Superior Specimen made his debut!



Oh, and before we get started, dearies... you might wanna get ready for this episode, because I am going to gloat and HARD! So, yeah, might wanna prepare for that.



Anyway... ONE YEAR!



525 600 minutes!

525 000 moments so deeeaaaar....



Oh, I remember it like it was yesterday. The roar of the crowd, the smell of the fog from what's his name's entrance... the mixture of excitement and fear as I glided from the curtains to the surprise of everyone... followed by the shock of said everyone when it was down to three bitches and me. Just me... the newest member of the SCW roster, and I lost out to only two people.



Syren and Ravyn Taylor.



Both of whom received multiple world title shots this year. Both of whom enjoyed World title reigns this year. And me? What did I get... oh... that's right. No World title shots... three US title shots, of which I won two but somehow never won the title. How does that work? Well, we call that bullshit, dearies. We call that the worst piece of horseshit I have ever seen.



So the board decided to try and make me happy by putting me in the TV title division and what was that? Well, for lack of a better term... BORING! Boring because I was beating guys I could beat with my eyes closed. Jake Starr? Please. Tucker... YAAAAWN! I am GLAD to be out of that division, and back focusing where it's important...



In other words...



We apologize for this slight interruption orchestrated by idiots. We now return you to your regularly scheduled PROGRAM OF AWESOMENESS!



Whew... I'm excited. And I mean excited. I haven't been this anxious about the future of SCW in a long time! Why? Oh I'll tell you why! I'm excited because of three things right now.



1. Rachel Foxx is World Champion proving that everyone else on the roster is going to get a World title shot before me!

2. Ravyn Taylor is STILL United States Champion - proving that no matter who the board throws at Ravyn desperately... the only person who can BEAT Ravyn at her own game is little old me.

3. Tainted Justice bitches!



We'll start at number three, because I like doing things my own way! Why? Because I am a beautiful, unique snowflake damnit!





TAINTED JUSTICE!





Oh! The look on your faces! Oh my god! I almost laughed so hard I pissed myself. Me and Merry standing side by side over Kelcey Wallace. Oh! Holy crap! She's on the ground writhing in pain, wondering what the fuck was going on, and you're all like 'WHHHY MERRICK?! WHY?!'.



Oh my god!



And what kills me about this. Kelcey beats me in the tournament... beats Merrick... then gets beaten down like the bitch that she really is. Tainted Justice standing tall! And here's the kicker. What really is the funniest part about it is that you actually think you've been betrayed! You actually feel hard done by because good ol' reliable Merry is paling around with yours truly! I mean, during Wiseman's match with Wallace, just WHO were you cheering for? This woman was taken to her limit by a guy whose never had a World title match but has ALSO beaten several former world champions himself, dedicated himself to serving you... 'THE PEOPLE'... trying to be a champion, oh what does he say .... 'BY THE PEOPLE FOR THE PEOPLE'... and what does he get for it from you all?



Suspended... mocked... booed. jeered.... ridiculed... I could go on.



And YOU feel hard done by?



You're lucky he didn't take his bat and go red white and blue on all your asses!



See, you all made this happen. You blame me, but I didn't have to do a damn thing. I just stood there watching you all sabotage yourselves against the one guy who actually gave a shit about making this place better and fair. You all made Wiseman go judge, jury, and executioner on your favorite little hell raisers. First, we took down Kelcey Wallace a peg. Reason? Just because she's a bitch and Wiseman said so! Then, we took it David Miller, the other side of battlefield... or Wasteland as Merry likes to say. See, those two are at war. And we're attacking both. Why? How does that make any sense in your minds?



Well... guess whaaaaaaat.... it makes perfect sense to us!



So right about now, you've probably scratched your head raw trying to figure out JUST WHAT THE FUCK WE ARE UP TO?!



And I am going to tell you! That's right! I am going to tell you. What? You don't believe me?





Honestly, after ALL we've been through! You don't trust me? Come now, dearies. Does this look like the face of someone who would lie to you, lead you on and then just be a tease?



Ok... you got me there!



You're damn right I'm not about to tell you what Tainted Justice has planned. You just have to wait, because for too long, Wiseman has been at your beck and call SCW. Now.... the cowboy is his own master. He's getting justice his way, and EVERYONE now is going to notice.



Because I know what every superstar with a second X Chromosome thinks of me. And thanks to my encounters with the likes of Standing Room Only, Jake Starr, Shilo Valiant and a whole slew of others, I found out that 'Hey... the guys don't like me either'. So I am not a popular fellow at all.



Oh how sad.



In fact, I think it can be safely said that I have a general loathing from most people... probably making me the most despised bastard in SCW, dearies. The LAST guy Merrick Wiseman, a fine upstanding citizen with every Superman movie quote safely worked into his repertoire of diatribe, should EVER want to team with right?



And that means, you pushed him SO FAR THAT HE FELT IT WAS BETTER TO TEAM WITH ME!



No small feat. I just... I have to applaud you. I do. Bravo SCW. Bravo.



You just turned your greatest protector and made him into my buddy!



If he's the Sheriff... then I the Deputy... the criminal in this two opposites buddy comedy so aptly named 'Tainted Justice', and the best part is... the only ones laughing at the end of it... Are gonna be us.



Sorry, dearies... you won't be in on the joke. You're just going to get mad when you see what we have planned. And the best part is... you brought it all on yourselves! You made the man fighting for you all so mad and frustrated, that he basically threw his hands in the air and said 'To Hell With It'.



Forgive me if I find that EXTREMELY funny.



Have I corrupted him?



Nope... even I couldn't do that. Not me, not Ravyn, no one on that roster could have made him do this.



Except each and every one of you.



Merrick Wiseman didn't turn on the people...



The People Turned On Merrick Wiseman.



Thanks!







We'll be right back after these messages.














CAIN: BAD

CHAPTER 8: A brief look behind the curtain.... and the man standing there.








Posted Image



Ladies and gentlemen, you had best turn away now. Because this Iis not going to pretty. I know. I know. I'm supposed to be the carefree kind if debonair devil. the kind of guy you know is just going to do what he wants and to hell with the consequences. The sort of fellow you know is going to be ok, because you know THThat no matter what, nothing will get to him.

And 99 times out of one hundred, you'd have me pegged.

But not today. Not right now.

Thus particular day is a tough one to stay particular chipper to my insane degree. instead of my usual routine, pouring myself a glass of wine, putting my feet up after donning my satin robe anand... typing my story on the CPU, I just don't have the heart for it.

So instead of satin, I'm in track pants and a t shirt. And instead of a nice chair, I'm sitting in a corner, my eyes bloodshot, hurting from staring at this screen.

And instead of a computer... I'm typing from my cell phone.

So... this is me at my lowest right now, about to lose it less than two days before my one... and probably only chance to actually get my shit together and have a world title match...

And I am ... the farthest thing away from ready.

So... today, my story isn't for laughs. It's just the truth. Nothing staged and forced like everyone else. No convenient climaxes from me. Just the gods honest truth. It's not going to end well. It's not going to have a dynamic conclusion. It's just... where I am.

Because I may be Vixen Cain the Scw superstar...

But I'm Vixen Cain the man first.

And I'd like to say that if you have a problem with that... then this not the day story for you. Don't let the door hit you on the way out.



Let me just say that I was fucking scared! Like balls shrivelling into my body and threatening never to come down scared. Like... about to turn these nice white pants into a different, darker shade. I was scared like a little kid in front of a Catholic priest. Because everything had gone so well... TOO well. Why? Because me and Merrick have successfully managed to piss off both sides of this stupid war! Between the remains of what used to be Monarchy, Sasha's crew, AND Red Rayne, I had successfully managed to incite all three sides to be pissed and me and Merrick.



That's like putting the difficulty on Capcom to its hardest level.



Incidentally, though, anyone whose ever played Capcom games know it isn't 'Easy, Medium, or hard'. It's:



Hard

Super Hard

HOLY FUCK! THROW THIS FUCKING CONTROLLER INTO THE TV WHILE CURSING EVERY GOD YOU'VE EVER HEARD OF AND YOUR DEAD GRANDMOTHER!


So I was scared about the competition. At least, that is what I told wiseman and sire, looking for any sort of way out of having to face scw like this...



So I sit there and I'm rocking against the wall, trying to formulate the way to breath again while Merrick Wiseman is standing looking at me like I have three heads, and Alexander Sire is sitting on a comfy chair. We are at his place, and let me tell you, the dude has some SERIOUS cool stuff. An actual suit of medieval armor (TWO OF THEM ACTUALLY - I EVEN SUGGEST TO MERRICK THAT WE GET IN AND HAVE A SWORD FIGHT... he thought I meant something else), a bunch of old vases, and a library that looks like it came right out of Beauty and the Beast! It was awesome!



But I can't really enjoy myself because I am LESS THAN 48 Hours away from TAKING HOLD OF THE FLAME! And the worst part is that I let my mouth fly during my promo... don't worry you'll hear it soon.



Sire: It couldn't have been that bad.

Cain: Not that bad?! I called Sasha a bitch on the rag! I accused her of stacking the deck like her old man did against me.

Sire: But she hasn't.

Cain: I KNOW!



What? I was panicking folks! I was running out of time. I had a lot to do before the deadline... of entering the arena and getting ready for the pay per view. You know how it goes. You can't be late for a pay per view so there's always a deadline to get your promos in, show up, get ready or you're left out in the cold.



And no one likes a no show... wink wink.



So yeah, I was panicking.



Wiseman: Then why say that? You realize she's going to get pissed at you, and by extension, me if she hasn't already with what we've done.

Cain: Oh please. We haven't done anything wrong. We attacked Kelcey. Big whoop. How many times she do that to someone with what was FORMERELY Monarchy? How many shitty things did she do to people. And Miller? Please... just... please. I don't recall us ever hopping into a car and hitting the gas as we barrelled into someone. Do you?



Wiseman: You still shouldn't have gone so crazy with your promo. It's not - -

Cain: Don't you dare critique my promo... I'll start have O. flashbacks! 'It's not this! WHY ARE YOU BURYING SO MANY PEOPLE! DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO HATE YOU?! IT DEMEANS THE MATCH!'. Seriously, if he had his way, every promo would sound like it came from Mr. Fucking Rogers!



Wiseman leaned over to Sire to whisper, thinking I couldn't hear them.



Wiseman: You understand what he's on about?

Sire: Not a clue, but he's on a roll.



Cain: It's just! I pretty much told Sasha I was going to do better than I did last year, and then I was going to parade into Rise to Greatness and make everything she, her dad, and the board have done to - - UGH!

Sire: I'm still not following you. It sounds like you did a normal promo with a little arrogance. What's the problem?

Cain: THe problem is that last year's Taking Hold of the Flame was EASY. O. said it himself a few times before he disappeared that there wasn't NEARLY enough competition as other years.

Sire: So you came at a good time. So what?

Wiseman: Ahhh... I get it.

Sire: You do? Then can you explain it to me?



Sire shrugged his shoulders, looking more confused than ever. Wiseman crossed his arms and looked down to the ground for a second. He was very careful with his wording ever since Sire found out that the cowboy was doing his granddaughter, Gwen. He had NOT been pleased. Even though he was sick and constantly tired as he recovered from the cancer, he had almost gone hog wild on Merrick. In fact, it was quite a sight seeing an old man move that fast. An old man battling CANCER no less.



Wow!



It had taken Gwen, Me, and Sire's wife Liz, to get him to back down before he had a heart attack. Personally, I think Sire doesn't like his children dating wrestlers. I mean... his son is a wrestler. His grandson, Arthur is a wrestler.... and 100 years down the line THAT Sire is going to be a wrestler. Some people are just made a certain way.



Me? I'm made to make other people's lives and careers worse because they piss me off and annoy me. Oh! And I'm also really good at annoying people, especially when I put my promo up at the last possible second.



#LastWord



So. Anyway, Wiseman was trying to explain why I was stressed.



Wiseman: It's going to be ten times harder for him to come in the top 5. We have former champions fresh off title losses. We have former winners... there's even a rumor about some of the mystery guests.

Sire: Who?

Wiseman: YOu don't wanna know. Trust me.

Sire: Cain... it's not all that different than last year.



I laugh at that. IT IS DIFFERENT FROM LAST YEAR.



Cain: Are you kidding? We have Selena Frost, who NO ONE seems to beat regularly.

Sire: Christy beat her.

Cain: Twice. And didn't you beat Christy.

Sire: Twice.

Cain: Well ya... HEY! HOW COME I HAVEN'T GOTTEN AN ADRENALINE TITLE SHOT YET?!

Wiseman/Sire: Ugh.



Both shook their heads. You know, it's really annoying when I can't bitch about stuff. I mean it's not like I have therapy for myself here. I keep listening to the other crazies when they got problems.



'Doctor Help Me! I have sexual feelings for my brother's wife!'

'Doctor Help Me! I want to kill everyone in my class!'

'Doctor Help Me! They cancelled LIMITLESS and I don't think I can live anymore.'



Actually that last one I can understand. SERIOUSLY WORLD WHY DO YOU HAVE TO PUT A STOPPER ON EVERYTHING THAT IS COOL! Limitless, Firefly, Forever, The Toronto Raptors in Cleveland! SERIOUSLY! STOP IT! LET COOL BE COOL!



I must sound like such a crazy person right now? Stressing about Taking Hold of the Flame. Well just wait till you see how ballsy I was with the promo, and you'll understand why. Kelcey Wallace was already going to be in this thing, and she won it last time, as well as the trios contract and she made it farther than I did in the Best of the Best. Seriously!



Cain: Ravyn Taylor, Casey Holiday... couldnt beat her either... but kinda glad about that.

Sire: You're glad about losing the TV title... why?

Cain: You see that thing? It clashed with everything I had!

Sire: You're covering your stress with humor. Bad humor. You need to calm down.

Cain: Have you seen some of these guys' promos? They've aired already. There's a guy who is coming in JUST to collect heads of people. He's just coming in to eliminate and fuck everything up! Granted, he's kinda hot so maybe - -

Wiseman: CAIN!

Sire: Yes, my captain?!


Wiseman: Sit down!I

I do as I'm told but for the life of me, I don't know why. It's not like Merrick intimidates me. No individual does that except maybe my father... and we aren't that desperate for ratings yet.

Wiseman: Listen to me.
Cain: Listening. But just so you know, I may have a hard time -
Wiseman : Shut up!

He is towering over me now. A big imposing figure with a sort of Texan out backer look.

Wiseman : who are you worried about?
Cain: does it have to be one person?
Wiseman: who are you worried about?
Cain: Me?
Wiseman: Doubtful. See, I know that you wouldn't put all your eggs in one basket. That's why we moved when we did.

Sire nodded from where he sat.

Wiseman: Vixen, your behavior is inescapably erratic. Even for you. You don't need to be the character with us. You know that. So.... if this isn't even the TV version of vixen Cain... then what are we looking at here?

wawhLook, guys. I get that deep down, I'm supposed to break the fourth wall here and be all devil may care, but you know Hwhat ? Some times this is too much.

My nth degree episode, guys. That was real. I honest to god started off feeling pretty good about everything. I was excited to celebrate my first year in scw. That was until I looked at what I accomplished.

Am I impressive? Sure. But even before he left, the bossman broke down. How he viewed the roster during the trios tournament. And he saw me as the middle of the pack...

Why? Because I'm mean? Because everyone thinks that I'm bad for business?

Cain: I just... hate how nothing really happened the way it should have last year. Everything started out so good. Came in third at the thotf battle royale, started putting away former world champions like a fat kid puts away candy.

Wiseman: Right...

Cain: But nothing's changed. I thought if I was... well... this! That I'd turn some heads, cause some controversy. But instead, I just get called a pig with outdated notions and archaic sexist beliefs!

Sire: Someone actually said you have archaic sexist beliefs?

Cain: Probably. Eventually, I stopped watching the promos. They all ran together. It's gotten to the point where I just hear droning. And no one even believes I can win this thing. Quite literally I am at the point where I barely belief it myself.

Wiseman shook his head.

Wiseman: No. Not buying it. This has nothing to do with the battle royale.

Sire: Jessie?
Wiseman: Alex, he's having a breakdown. Something has happened.

Ok, I'm the doctor here and when did Wiseman suddenly get so damn observant. This is a guy who had no idea his sister was dating his Mexican friend till he caught them doing it in the closet. Oh my god! If Sire had caught Gwen like that! That was have killed him.

But I got to get this to stop. If I start talking about what's really bothering me, I might cry. And no one wants that.

Cain: You're way off Merry.
Wiseman: you never call me merry outside scw.
Cain: Fuck! Look! Even if there's something else going on, and I'm not saying there is, cause the fuck you know... I'm not in the right mindset for this. And I won't be in two days.

Wiseman marched back and forth taking in what I said.

Wiseman: you want to change places? Maybe I do it for you?

I hadn't even considered that. I could step away this year. Let wiseman do it. I wouldn't have to stress about scw... and I could -

Sire: No. We go as planned. Merrick stays out of it. We need him watching.

Motherfucker! Almost had a way out and he stops me!

Wiseman: I get that, Alex. But if Cain isn't feeling up to it, we may as well not let the chance go to waste.

Sire: unless Cain has a good reason other than jitters over a few opponents and pissing off Sasha... I don't see why he can't.

Cain: Because What if I'm eliminated right away? Hmm? I go from third to nothing? Then Rise to Greatness and no one even --.


And right then, I shit you not, Sire stood from his chair. It hurt him so much to do it. I could see it in his eyes.

Wiseman: Alex! No you shouldn't -

But he held up a hand to quiet the objection. Slowly, He made his way over to me, dropping to his knees to look me in the eye... and he hugged me.

And I swear to god... I lost it. Look, I know you don't wanna see this, but this is me. Crying. Crying when i can't maintain the damn facade that I have to maintain because of what Scw is! So here's me crying. And I didn't want anyone to know, but as he pulls away, I know I am going to tell him.

Sire: What is it, my boy?

I look at his pleading eyes. I look to the concerned face of the young man near us, my new tag team partner. And I finally tell them.

Cain: It's Mina. There were some... complications. We lost the baby.






****



















Posted Image







Ok... so... now that Television can go back to be a boring, pathetic patch of shit no one cares about (because it's basically just feel good women's programming anyway).... I can go back to what is important. The World Title and the US title.



Where were we?



Oh right!... 2. Ravyn Taylor is still the US champion. and 1. RACHEL FOXX IS WORLD CHAMPION!



Holy shit... how are these two facts still a thing?! How is RAVYN STILL CHAMP?! And stop me if I am wrong, but didn't Dawn Lohan ALREADY get a shot against Ravyn and then before THAT for the World title. And stop me if I am remembering wrong... DIDN'T SHE LOSE BOTH?! What is it with losers getting two shots at Ravyn and I lose once and that's it? I mean I only beat her twice, not to mention outlasted Dawn in the tournament? How is SHE getting ANOTHER shot before me?



Moreover, how did Alexis Quinne bypass me?



How did Kayla freaking Jones?!



How did RACHEL FOXX JUMP THE LINE?!



HOW DID ACE MARSHALL BECOME THE NUMBER ONE CONTENDER FOR THE TITLE?! I BEAT THE GUYS WHO BEAT HIM!





You see where I am going with this. I outlasted in that tournament every last one of those idiots, just like I outlasted most of them in the Taking Hold of the Flame battle royale. I came in THIRD! Nothing happened. No one cared.



Or at least... that's what it appeared to be.



And so... One year later and I have claimed the following WORLD CHAMPIONS TO MY RESUME:





Christy Matthews twice

CHBK

Jake Starr multiple times

Shilo Valiant (rather proud of that one *wink wink*)

Outlasted Dawn Lohan in the Best of the Best Tournament

Ravyn Taylor twice (Have I mentioned that?)





And that's just off the top of my head while I'm sitting here speaking to you dearies.



So, I say to myself... in one year... with ALL that. NO WORLD TITLE SHOT. No rightful US TITLE REMATCH. I say to myself... something is wrong here.



And it dawns on me... There is someone who is dispensing World title matches and have let everyone else get theirs before mine. Why? Because they are jealous. Because they know the second I get my hands on the World or US title, I will make it mine, and be the most hated champion in history. Why? Because I will not let myself be content with an average run of the mill US title reign that just repeats itself in nauseating cycles... Ravyn.



Yes, someone is jealous... or they are just a woman on the rag who is trying to make a statement for all womankind...



Speaking of which: Hey Sasha, did you get my request for the 40th spot? I think my bid would oust anyone elses, because... well, I'm rich. You already know that. Haven't heard from you, so call me.



Oh what? Am I going to get pegged for offering to buy the 40th spot? Please. How many people WISH they had that spot. Didn't Greg Cherry win from the last man spot when he won it? I mean, that was ages ago so it's probably carved on some stone somewhere in depths of Olek's dusty man-cave, so I'm sure we can figure that out.



Whatever... whoever is holding me back... you got me by the balls, don't ya? You've been able to keep me under a dog pile of mediocrity and confusion. And normally, there is no way I can fight that.



But then, once a year, like a magic light streaming through your never ending mountain of crap... there comes a chance. Just a chance. However small... it is there for me to take.



The Taking Hold of the Flame Battle Royale.



A veritable gauntlet of challenges meant to push every superstar to their absolute limit. The winner of this clusterfuck of hell... well we all know. We haven't been living in a cave somewhere like our former Boss Man.



The SCW World Title Main event at Rise to Greatness.



And I think you see where I am going, Sasha D. and the board of directors...



Taking Hold of the Flame... my one chance to get what you have made it impossible for me to attain. And isn't THAT just a tad scary for you all considering how close I came last time? Remember that? You didn't know me then. Not like now. I've had a year since then. A year to learn from the best you have. A learn to make connections. A year to become the kind of superstar that once he gets his one chance at everything he wants...



Well... I don't plan on being a Regan Street with MY first time.



Not by a long short, dearie.



Because IF I win this thing. If I do the impossible... and outlast 40 of the toughest superstars SCW has ever seen... if I do what NO ONE believes I can do... then you will have no choice. I will have my day. I will have my chance. I will have my shot at being SCW WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION ON THE BIGGEST STAGE OF THEM ALL!



And you... FINALLY... will not be able to do anything to stop me.



The work of your father, Sasha... to hold me back when he KNEW I could end Ravyn's reign MONTHS AGO... for nothing.



The work of your board... to keep me down in the muck and the mire... fruitless.



All the waiting and the struggling to best the odds YOU, YOUR FAMILY, and YOUR PEOPLE placed in front of me... all come to fruition.



When you watch in horror as Vixen Cain becomes bound for Rise to Greatness and the World Heavyweight title...





...

...



Sorry, I just came a little. Whew.



I think I need a smoke.



Because THAT is what Taking Hold of the Flame is for me. My one chance. The one thing I can win that you CAN'T take away from me. Sure, you controlled the Trios TOurnament (or rather your father did) to make sure my team was handicapped. Come on... when has Thomas Valentine EVER been anything in the last three years?



Oh yeah, he retired David Helms. Tear.



You had the game rigged against me from the start, facing opponents that didn't matter to make sure I didn't matter. But EVERY time I had my chance, I rose to the occasion, and then... I beat them back one by one. Even when I lost, I showed that your favorites... the merchandise sellers were not invincible.



Ravyn... Kelcey... who else do I have to parade to your door before you finally understand that I will NOT be denied much longer.



Oh wait... I don't have to parade anyone. I just have to outlast them in this thing. Fun.



Because then I get my very first world title shot! Oh goody! I get my chance against either Ace Marshall (HA) or Rachel Foxx (DOUBLE HA).



These two weren't a threat to me before, so what the fuck makes you think they will be now? Because I am not going to go on some speech and say how I am going to win this world title match to spice things up. No. I'm not doing this for anyone else. This is for me. This is all for me!



I am getting mine, because that's what I have deserved since the day I came in and placed THIRD!





And if THAT doesn't work... well, that's why I have WIseman now.



Amy Chastaine, Dawn Lohan, Selena Frost, Kennedy Street, Kelcey Wallace and so many others mouthing off about shit they think they're owed. Yeah. Except... most of them already had title chances... most of them already got handed what they didn't deserve. Like always in this place.



Come on, dearies. We aren't stupid. We know Selena Frost is going to get her shot. Believe that. You don't win the Best of the Best and not get a shot. We know Kelcey Wallace will get another shot with that trios contract. We know Ravyn will...



Sasha has no inclination to change the game unless it's HER game...



And sorry, dearie. I don't play well with Drachewychs. I think your daddy taught us all that. Turns out when Merry or Me TRY to help a D.... we end up getting burned for it.



So consider this the bill for our combined services!





...

...



This is my one chance. I know it is.





We know that if I don't win this battle royale, it's just going to be the same year over again. The same bitches in the main events, and the rest of us being overlooked. And I will be DAMNED if I am going to live through that again.



Taking Hold of the Flame is where I am literally going to take hold of the flame... and burn this fucking hierarchy down to the ground. And if I can't... then no one is going to be safe from what Wiseman and I do to this place.



Actually, come to think of it... you're not safe anyway, so go ahead and kiss your ass goodbye, because win or lose, Merry and I are TAKING OVER!



Tainted Justice has come to SCW. Not for Amy, not for Selena... and certainly not for Sasha.



It ain't justice for all anymore, dearie.





It's justice for US!











Whose Bad?[/align]







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The Voice
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OOC: And here is number two! I tried a different coloring scheme for simplicity. I dont think I can muster a third when I have two more to write, so I will keep it at two. Loved writing this character, and if ya like him Olek, I can carry on with this one if you like him. I finished this one late last night and couldn't post it.



Had to edit for coding.




[align=center] Whosoever is delighted in solitude is either a wild beast or a god.

- Aristotle



Posted Image


Recently, I asked the simple question, 'What Does The Battle Royale Mean?'. It was a very straight forward query, but I know some of you are still dwelling on the existential idea that a match can mean more than just what you win out of it. Battling for the sake of battling is probably so foreign to you that my words may have been confusing. So... to start things off, I thought I would enlighten a few of you by answering another question. One a little more... close to home.

'Who am I?'

Yes, for all the lesser creatures far and wide across the kingdom of this vast plane... I will attempt to answer that question as much as I am permitted. I think that might be best before we continue, don't you? I said quite a lot last night, and I think before I really get going, there is a need for some structure. Don't you?

My name, in case you have already forgotten (I don't know with technology these days, attention spans are at an all time low) is Kiin Do Rah. Don't ask about the origin of the name. In the language it is written, it literally means 'Born of the Gods'. I know. Subtle right? I mean SCW seems to have its fair share of deities lately. Now, you're being ruled by one and his pretty little side kick.

It's basically Godman and Robin at this point.

Alas, not what we're here to talk about.

I have been wrestling, or hunting as I like to think of it, for some time now. I took it upon myself to escape the world that made little sense for one that did, and I found it in the wrestling world. You see, we creatures of the world have tried very hard to distinguish ourselves as ... DIFFERENT from other members of the Animal Kingdom. We like to think of ourselves as 'more evolved' than the commonplace monkey or mouse. We shudder at the idea that we actually may be... like them...

Most of us anyway.

And yet... for everything we do, we just further prove that we are not just part of them... we are NO DIFFERENT than them.

We focus so much on our appearances, primping and prodding ourselves to be deemed 'attractive' to those we want to notice us, strutting our stuff in the most ideal of places where there are many eyes to notice us. I believe there is a word or a turn of phrase for that... what is it...

Peacocking.

Some of us work hard... being busy as a beaver. You plan, and even scheme to improve our lot in life, be it at our job, in relationships, whatever. And some of us step across, or trample under, or stampede over those who get in our way to become... oh what is it they call it?

Ah yes... to be ahead of the Pack.

Idioms are funny, aren't they? But in truth, they just hint at what is right in front of you. We are not civilized. We are not evolved. The evolution of man will come when we take a step back and instead of shirking our animal instincts... we embrace it.

And I'm not saying that we need to start throwing feces at one another, though looking at the state of SCW, I'd say that actually wouldn't be that far of a stretch. I simply mean we try so hard to repress the animalistic side of ourselves that we are at constant odds with ourselves. Our depression, anxiety... a lot of it comes from not simply being at peace with who we are.

Me? I know who I am. I'm a hunter. I know what I want, and I get it by any means necessary. I don't care if I have to step on someone along the way. If they were smart, they wouldn't be stepped on. They'd either get out of the way or they'd find a way to stop me. And IF they can stop me... well... then I guess I didn't try hard enough.

Or maybe my plan was flawed.

I said I was a hunter... Not perfect.

I'm not THAT vain.

Because perfection is boring. If you are Flawless or Perfect... then what's the point anymore? There's nothing to change. There's no need to do anything because you are perfect. Unless perfection has a maintenance cost. In which case... all you are ever doing is maintaining. Not excelling. Not having moments of sheer brilliance! Stare at a perfectly cut diamond too long and it will lose its lustre to your eye... metaphorically speaking.

Because you're used to it. Perfection becomes the status quo.

Let me use the longest reigning champion of all time in SCW, Ravyn Taylor... the CURRENT United States Champion. NO ONE can doubt her reign. Not a soul. But at this point, after all this time with her being unbeatable. The novelty has worn off hasn't it? It's a simple shrug whenever she wins and retains the title.

'Yep. She's still champ. Next.'

It's not Ravyn's fault. It's just the way things are. One cannot simply just... stay in their spot for too long. They start to fade... their worth starts to waver. It just becomes an accepted fact. Why do you think they shop around artefacts from museum to museum or animals from zoo to zoo every few years.

Because NEW is exciting. New is fun. New presents opportunities for change and growth, and evolution is a very attractive thing for the viewing audience of the world.

People want change. They want short term chaos, which would explain SCW's ratings lately. But the Chaos has just about gone on too long now. Adding Chad Evans as a commissioner... nice touch but it is simply keeping the chaos on live support for a short time.

But maybe... a short time is all Sasha Drach is hoping for... because of what lies ahead.

Rising to Greatness like the morning Dawn across the Serengeti.

SCW stands at the Apex of its chaotic season. It will soon either explode in a supernova or implode onto itself like a neutron bomb. One will give birth to a new star... the other will create destruction and desolation. Whichever happens is in the hands of souls other than me. I just have a front row seat to watch and wallow in the moment. Because Chaos... among many other things ... is the perfect hunting ground.

And if you have learned nothing about who I am... take this away with you.

I am Kiin Do Rah.

And I am a hunter. And I hunt the deadliest game of all.

That is who I am.


And that is what I do.









****

Posted Image



The Scarred Saga
Entry for Taking Hold of the Flame (#2 of 2)
Scarred Psyche


--------- May 27th - 9:19pm ------------

'Sasha D.... you have officially lost your mind'.

The statement was not said aloud. No one had the balls to question the daughter of the man who founded the place that kept these bloodsuckers employed. They disgusted Kiin to his very core. Fat, overpaid cockroaches scurrying around looking for any way to better their holdings. While Kiin, himself, subscribed to the notion of taking what you can when you can... he had nothing but contempt to those who were too lazy, afraid, or whatever to get their hands bloody, resorting to forcing others to do so.

These men all had the same stink on them. The stink of too much cologne masking that they had by extension been responsible for terrible things. The sort of things they weren't man enough to do themselves. Before any of them had said a word, Kiin hated all of them.

He stood there with his arms crossed, sporting a handsome suit with a white collar shirt and cravat. He had opted to let Sasha talk, introducing the new SCW acquisition, at least for one night.

Sasha: Some of you may recall the headlines in the Pro Wrestling Monthly.

This large fellow with glasses that was sweating too much to be healthy, Davidson, interrupted with a grunt.

Davidson: Sasha, we are well aware of who that man is over there. We all saw the news, and we all know what he did to his opponent. I think we are all a little surprised at your rush to sign him over when you and your family have such an existing issue already of dealing with violent radicals.

Kiin didn't say a word, though his mind did race with the different ways he could gut that pig.

Sasha: This appearance by Mr. Kiin Do Rah does two things for SCW. It opens us to different companies around the United States, AND it allows us to mix the playing field up for several of those other violent radicals you made such a clear mention of, Mr. Davidson.

Kiin: Davidson? Like the bike?

They all turned as Kiin chuckled.

Davidson: Something funny?
Kiin: Just ironic. You probably weigh as much as a hog anyway.
Davidson: I beg your - -
Kiin: I mean, is it a constant choice that all rich board members of a company have to look like they ate one too many extra large pizzas... or are you all just about the stereotype?
Sasha: Kiin, that's hardly the - -
Kiin: Sorry. Right. They weren't done admonishing you for bringing me in. Sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt. Please continue.

It took them a moment to get unflustered, and some didn't before Sasha continued.

Sasha: Kiin's unique fighting style is something quite different than the traditional wrestler's, not to mention his particular ability in violent altercations to come out on top is something that we have only seen in a select few superstars.

Daniels: You mean like Red Rayne?

That effected Sasha. Kiin didn't know why, because he had no idea who Red Rayne was and what the name meant. It sounded a little over dramatic, someone call themself that, but then again... the literal translation of his name was 'Born of the Gods', so who was he to judge.

Sasha: Red Rayne is... an anomaly. We are dealing with her as best as we can.
Daniels: Well maybe this animal here can figure it out for you.

He pointed to Kiin who tilted his head. He had been called worse by worse people, but it was the way this worm had said it. There was something in his tone that Kiin didn't like. And he liked the papers that this individual took out even less.

Daniels: Kiin Do Rah. Real name: Jeremiah Kofu. Yes, we know your name. You think we wouldn't find out.

Kiin shrugged. In truth, he didn't care what they found out. He had nothing to hide. He just preferred keeping his private life exactly that.

Daniels: Or rather, Lieutenant Jeremiah Kofu. Formerly of the American Marine, Division Corps codenamed: The War Lions. Honorably discharged after serving as POW in a terrorist cell for over four months.

Sasha: Get to the point. He's a decorated war hero.

Daniels: Discharged for mental instability after... well here are the pictures.

He passed them around. Kiin didn't have to see them. He had seen them all before, at every job interview he had gone to. How so many people had gotten their hands on them was anyone's guess. It was amazing how hard everyone worked to get you INTO the Army... but once you weren't of any use, they cut you loose faster than you came.

Daniels: In other words... you brought someone who is clearly unstable, and probably responsible for the massacre of his squadron - -

Sasha: Daniels!

But it was too late. The second he uttered those words, Daniels was finished. Kiin didn't even wait for him to finish the tirade. He sprang atop of the board member's laps, using it to launch himself atop the marble table, which he crossed in less than a second, lunging at Daniels, seizing him by his skull with both hands.

NO ONE moved to help Daniels. They recognized the move immediately. Daniels lay there, completely terrified to move for fear that Kiin would start to squeeze.

Kiin (soothingly): Now... Daniels was it? I understand that you are concerned about your company's image, no matter how much in the gutter it is right now. I mean let's face it... in one year, you've had your biggest pay per view marred with controversy over the finish of your main event, you've had the SCW World title change hand almost as fast as your TV title. You've had attempted murder, kidnappings, and all sorts of things that just make people shake their heads. As of right now, Crime Alley in Gotham City is a more preferable place to be than SCW.

Sasha: Kiin...

Kiin: Sssh... And I know there are some questions that you all may have about my methods, and the decisions I have made while in PWX. And I want you to know that any question you have or comment you wish to discuss can be placed on the table for open discussion. We will be able to be frank and talk of it like civilized folk. That is something I can assure you.

He looked around, his face changing from a smile to an intense stare that made even Davidson lean back.

Kiin: Except... that comment right there. Now... I know most superstars trying to get in this place would be stripping down and ready to suck your miniscule cocks for a job here. But here's the thing. I don't need to be here. I don't need this job. I already am at the top of my game so... I come here to enjoy myself. And there's very little that fat cats like you can do to get under my skin... someplace you definitely don't want to be. But a surefire way... is to question what I did overseas and what happened to me. You insult me, my family, and my unit when you talk like you have ANY IDEA WHAT BATTLE IS LIKE!

His spit flew from his mouth as he yelled, cascading over the terrified face below him.

Kiin: if you ever speak ill of me like that again, I will take this skull that houses your very tiny brain and I won't stop squeezing till I hear bones CRACK! Do I make myself clear?

Daniels didn't even need to think about it. He just shook his head in the affirmative. As he released the worm and rose to his feet, Kiin adjusted his suit collar turning back to Sasha.

Kiin: My apologies, Ms. D..
Sasha: Kiin. I won't be bullied or intimated if you and I come to odds on SCW.
Kiin: Of course not... and you won't need to. I know how things work here. And I will stay out of your business until it becomes my business. If I win the battle royale, if I go on to win the World title... you are going to have a world Champion that you can throw anyone at... and I won't give you any trouble.

He looked to the board members who were trying not to make eye contact, shifting their glances carefully to one another.

Kiin: As long as you let me hunt. That's all I ask.
Sasha: And what does that mean exactly? Hunt?
Kiin: It means exactly what it sounds like.
Sasha: And what if I don't like the particular way you... hunt?

He walked around the table, getting very close to the current head of SCW.

Kiin: Well... then I guess we are going to have more words... aren't we?

He took her hand, drawing it up to kiss the back of it.

Kiin: I think we understand each other VERY well... Ms. D..

--------- A few years ago ------------

It was hot and humid. Jeremiah didn't care really about the actually temperature. It was the humidity that was killing him. Every breath felt like it was through a damp, hot rag placed directly across his face. Actually, that thought made him remember the training he went through for being tortured. As it turned out, one of the regime's standards was waterboard the soldiers so they knew what to expect.

It had not been pleasant.

Then again, neither was this.

Captain: Queen's Knight to E5.

After what they had done to Graves, they had dragged the remaining three to separate cells. The man in charge had pointed to him and said that he was next, but perhaps he had changed his mind, for they had come for Jones after a few hours, leaving Jeremiah alone in his cell, right next to the captain's. Though his mind was completely aware of present circumstances, Jeremiah found himself chuckling at how he was happy to be alone with Captain Justin Kofu. Alone, there didn't need to be that Captain, Lieutenant difference.

They could be brothers.

Jeremiah: Ok. King's rook to C8, and that's check.

Both had graduated with excellent grades, but the elder brother had achieved the top of his class first (with Jeremiah graduating top of his two years later). In that time difference, Justin Kofu had quickly become a favorable soldier in the eyes of the US government. He had been quickly promoted up the chain, earning his Captain's rank after saving a base from insurgents. The two were equally cunning and smart, with near photographic memories to match. That's how they were able to pass the time and keep their minds occupied as the guards watched them confused, no doubt due to their limited knowledge of the English language.

In their minds, the brothers constructed their own versions of a chess board, each time moving the piece according to instruction. It used to be difficult, remembering where all the pieces had been. Now... when he closed his eyes, Jeremiah could see the chess board clear in his mind as if it were right in front of him.

Captain: Thought you might do that. King's bishop to A1 and that, my dear brother, is checkmate.
Jeremiah: No...
Captain: Yep, fraid so.
Jeremiah: King to - -
Captain: Pawn captures king, Bishop Captures king, and rook captures king. Your only move would be to block my Bishop with your last rook, I take rook, and that's the game.


Voice: HEY! YOU AREN'T HERE TO PLAY GAMES!

It was some foot soldier with no real authority. Jeremiah had already accepted the fact that he was probably going to be tortured, so there was no way he was going to sit and stew about it. He would not give them that sort of satisfaction.

Jeremiah: Well don't really have much of a choice here. Maybe if you had gotten me that magazine I asked for! This place is like a prison, for Christ's sake. Sorry... Allah's sake.

Voice: You will shut up!
Jeremiah: Um... no I won't. In fact, I'll do ya one better. Why don't you come in here and MAKE me shut up.
Captain: Jeremiah...
Jeremiah: No, Cap. I really think these dickwads have two options. Kill us or let us go. They already know which one they are going to lean towards so... there's really nothing worse I can do...

He was hiding his terror with bravado, but deep down, Jeremiah hoped it at least got a reaction as he cleared his throat.

Jeremiah: Ah hem... Mohammed the prophet walks into a bar. He can move a mountain, but he can't afford a drink. So he offers to suck Jesus' big fat righteous - -

The door swung open, and Jeremiah expected the guard, readying for a bullet between the eyes. Instead, Jones was hurled into the room right into Kofu. Jeremiah got her as softly as he could, but with the timing and the position of his body, that was a difficult task. She fell hard into him.

Captain: Jones? Are you alright?
Guard: She knows what happens when you blaspheme the might of Allah.

It was like something out of a Saturday morning cartoon. These bastards were devoted... to the point of fanatic. Jeremiah had always doubted that these kind of people existed. No matter what your faith or religious stance was, there was a line, Kofu thought, no one could ever cross without the slightest doubt of morality. These guys, on the other hand, showed absolutely no hesitation with what they were doing.

Jones: Kofu... Kofu!
Jeremiah: I'm here, Sam. I'm here. It's going to be alright.
Jones: No... no they... oh my god... they were...

The laughter from the other men told him all he needed to know.

Jeremiah: Captain...
Captain: Yes?
Jeremiah: King to A6... You don't have that spot covered.
Captain: ... You're right. Queen to B4. I'll have you mated next move.
Jeremiah: Yeah... pawn on c3 to d3. That's checkmate for me.

There was a silence, even from the guards. THe only thing to break it was the whimpering from Jones as she fought back more tears.

Captain: So it is. King mated.

The door opened, and this time, the men didn't come for Jones. They smiled as the man in charge stepped through the door and looked at his handiwork.

Man: Your turn has come, my friend.
***



--------- May 28 - 3:51 am ------------

Kiin did not jolt up as he sometimes did from his dreams. His eyes just opened slowly, as if accepting that they were about to be disturbed. He let out a sigh as his temples throbbed. Probably from gritting his teeth.

He was alone tonight. Valkyrie had gone home. Jessica Moore needed her sleep. She had a title defense before the pay per view against Candy Cane... one of her all time most irritating nemesis.

He wasn't going to get much sleep tonight. He could tell that by the way his body was jolted. The dreams sometimes were mild... other times they were very vivid. It was the vivid ones that always kept him up. With a sigh, he changed into some workout clothes and headed out of his apartment. The building he lived in had a world class gym. That had been part of the appeal when Kiin had moved in. At this hour, no one was going to be around, and Kiin preferred it that way.

PWX didn't tour. Not the way SCW did. They stayed in the same arena and did shows to sold out audiences every other week. Sure, they had gone out for special engagements, but their current residence in New York was precisely where they needed to be. In fact, most of the superstars had taken up homes in residences very similar to Kiin's. As he made his way into the gym, the lights flickering on by his motion, he wondered just what he should work out: Cardio, arms, back... he wasn't really hit with a sudden profound sense of purpose.

Kiin: Cardio.

He never used the treadmill. Why do that when you can run outside and actually accomplish something? But there was a track in the large gym, which was perfect. Turning on his music, he started with a light jog.

That meeting with the board... he had gotten a little riled up. He shouldn't have, but the last thing he would tolerate is some fat ass lesser creature talking about his trauma and the loss of his family like it was no big deal... or worse... his fault.

Kiin hated men like that. And there were many of them out there. Those who paid lip service to the hardworking soldiers protecting their way of life, only to sneer when they were inconvenienced by the very same needs of those who protected them.

Kiin: Fucking pigs.

He picked up his pace. As he rounded the corner, he saw the door to the gym open. At first, he hoped it was someone who didn't annoy him. Of course, he never expected Killian Hades to saunter through the door. It shouldn't have surprised him, because he lived in the same building.

Hades: I figured you might be up.
Kiin: Uh huh.

He didn't stop running. Hades had to keep changing the projection of his voice.

Hades: Another nightmare I take it?

Hades was a lot like Kiin in that he separated business from personal. The difference was that Hades was a very business minded fellow, always thinking about the next ten steps instead of master the next two. That had been his mistake with KING.

Hades: Hey listen, you might holding on a second. I wanna talk to you.

Of course he did, and Kiin had an idea why. Slowing down, he realized he had barely got his heartrate up.

Kiin: What is it, Killian?
Hades: Kofu, I spoke with Sawyer, and he told me you're facing Casey Jones for the title next.
Kiin: Yeah... probably in two weeks now.
Hades: He say what kind of match?
Kiin: No.
Hades: Well he told me he was thinking of a Lion's Den Match.

Kiin's favorite match. It was his trademark. Sawyer must have been really happy with the way the World title match had gone so he was rewarding the champ with his favorite match of choice.

Kiin: Well... that's a nice surprise. Though, not as big a surprise as when you handed KING that baseball bat. Thanks again for that by the way.
Hades: Hey, business is business. I didn't ask that KING was struggling against you. Besides, you're champ anyway and now you're getting one of your favourite matches. I thought you'd be thrilled.
Kiin: Why you here, Killian? I'm more interested in that. Shouldn't you be trying to make Slayer into the new king?

Slayer was Hades' other client. He was a mid card guy who was after the Blood-Bound Title currently held by a his former tag team partner, Scandal.

Hades: Slayer is where he needs to be right now. I wouldn't want to throw him in the ring with you.
Kiin: Well you didn't come here to work out. That's for damn sure.
Hades: What makes you say that?
Kiin: A three piece suit... in a gym? Really?

Hades smiled, gesturing this his tie.

Hades: Hey this is a POWER tie, I will have you know.

They enjoyed a chuckle. While often at opposite ends of the board, Hades and Kiin were not what someone would call traditionally enemies. It was just business. That's all it was. And when the night was over, there was no need for them to try and kill one another.

Hades: So... word on the grapevine is that you got your eyes set for greener pastures. I think that's why Sawyer is giving you your favorite match.
Kiin: Is that it?
Hades: Well, he knows about SCW and their battle royale in a few days. Everyone now knows it. There's a big pool backstage on how far you are going to go.
Kiin: What did you place?
Hades: Top 5.
Kiin: Wow, thanks.
Hades: Has a 14-1 odds against. 35-1 odds for winning it. No one took that one. But got a few on the final five.
Kiin: And Sawyer thinks I'll split?
Hades: It's probably crossed his mind.
Kiin: Well, that's not the case. I'm very happy where I am right now.

Hades nodded, crossing his arms.

Hades: Well, that's the other thing. I wanted to put my offer back out there to manage you and the Scavengers, either in PWX or SCW.
Kiin: Ah! There it is.
Hades: Well, what do you want from me, Kofu. You're entering a new place, where no one would blame you for having me with you. And you know I'm good at my job.
Kiin: Oh I know. But you only manage the brutes, Killian. That's the long and short of that one. You want soldiers... not kings.
Hades: KING thought for himself.
Kiin: Did he really? Because all I saw was you pulling his strings every time he came out. Everyone backstage was laughing about it.
Hades: They were?
Kiin: We had a song.
Hades: Of course you did...


They stood in silence for a few moments. Hades eventually broke it up.

Hades: At least promise me you'll think about it, ok? You know I gotta get a new client to take you down in PWX if ya don't, and I'd rather stick with the guy I know then some new guy.
Kiin: So it's more convenient?
Hades: Ah come on, don't be like that.
Kiin: Killian, I don't have a problem with you. YOu know that, but Sam was right... it's not the right time for us to be allies on tv. We want different things. You want to rule. I want to hunt, and I don't much like being controlled.
Hades: Well... I always liked Sam.

THere was another silence following that. Hades once again breaking it up.

Hades: How's your mom?
Kiin: She's good. She actually recognized me yesterday.
Hades: Get outta here.
Kiin: Nope. Looked at me right in the eye and asked how I was.
Hades: Well that's something.
Kiin: It is.
Hades: And you? How you doing by the way?
Kiin: I'm fine.
Hades: Was a month ago, wasn't it? Sam, I mean.
Kiin: Yeah.
Hades: And you're ok?
Kiin: No.... but I will be. Just need to keep doing... well... this, I guess for now.
Hades: Well, if you need me... I'm just a few floors away.

He smiled and walked away. Killian had been the first person Kiin called, and the first person who had helped him from doing the same thing. Had stayed with him the whole time...

Kiin took off again, running a few laps, trying not to remember what happened after his greatest victory so far in his young career. One month ago. But the memories came back, much like in his dreams: those last few days before his life shattered. They all just coming back. He would have to deal with them sooner rather than later.

His phone rang. Surprisingly so early. He answered it with a shrug.

Kiin: Hello?
Officer: Yes, Mr. Kofu, this is officer Hadley.
Kiin: Yes officer?
Officer: Terribly sorry to bother you so late, but we were wondering if you could come down to the station.
Kiin: Now?
Officer: Oh no. As soon as possible but whenever is convenient is fine. We just have a few follow up questions resulting to an investigation.
Kiin: Investigation?
Officer: Yessir, regarding a Samantha Jones.

Kofu's heart was racing now, but only because he had no idea what this could possibly mean.

Kiin: What about her?
Officer: There's just some things we need to check. Can you come over some time this weekend?
Kiin: Ah... Fraid I can't. I'm going to be in Canada this weekend.
Officer: Ah I see. And when are you expecting to return?
Kiin: Monday or Tuesday.
Officer: Ah, fair enough. Well any time would be appreciated.
Kiin: Can you tell me anything about what is going on?

The officer cleared his through, clearly not comfortable with the question.

Officer: It's probably best to talk about it face to face.

He knew that was about as far as he was going to get.

Kiin: Ok... no problem. I'll be there when I can.
Officer: Thank you sir. Enjoy your trip to Canada.
Kiin: Thanks.

He hung up, and his imagination went wild. There were a million things that the officer could want and what was going on. The only thing that couldn't possibly be any different was where Samantha Jones was... and what had happened to her.

But he couldn't think about that right now. He wanted to think about something, anything. Running a hand through his hair, he took his cell phone and clicked over to the voice recorder.

Kiin: This is a message for the so called 'Legend' coming to our doors. Stephan Strange... I don't care whether you come as you a re or as Masquerade or as the second fucking coming. Where you are headed is NOT SCW. If anything... I am going to show you what SCW looks like from my scope. I am going to show you, because guess what, Stephan, I am going to enter the Taking Hold of the Flame Battle Royale this year. That's right. And I want you to watch, because I want you to see me do greater than you ever did in that match. I want you to see just why coming to PWX and coming for my title is the biggest career mistake you could have possibly made. I don't care about the LEGEND OF STEPHAN STRANGE... all I care about is how it's going to end. Hint hint, lesser creature... It's going to be at the hands of Kiin Do Rah.

He clicked the recording off. He would post that on twitter later when he had more time. For now, he wanted to get back to bed. There was too much going on that he didn't want to deal with at this moment in time.

His workout effectively ruined, Kiin went back to bed, hoping his dreams would be of eliminating superstars and being champ than back in that hell that saw the end of his as he knew it...










Posted Image


--------- PROMO: PODCAST ------------

I would like to start this podcast, if I may, addressing the comments of two people. A tale of two extremes. One is good... the other is not... Now I have always strived to be a gentleman outside the ring. Inside on the other hand...

Amy Chastaine. Hello Amy. You're a rather lovely looking woman. Even with those bruises, your eyes shine with the fire of competition. In such a short time, you've already won the World title. You just came in like a ball of fire and blew us all away... and now...

You want it back.

You know where you stand, and you know how you got there. A cat backed against the wall by dozens of assailants, and yet you stand ready with your claws out. Wanting, not to protect your spot, but to keep it and proclaim that you deserve to be there!

That's one part of it.

The other... Justice.

A word that was once only one man's moniker, but is now spread like WILDFIRE across the land of SCW. It's caught on faster that a spark at Fort McMurray, Alberta...

What? Too soon?

But Justice was once mocked, if I recall... everyone mocked the man in the mask, but now... EVERYONE wants it. Dawn wants it. You want it. Raab wants it. Monarchy still wants it. Shilo has his own idea of what justice is. Hehe, believe me, my dear Amy, if you are looking for justice in this place, thinking it is nothing more than some form of universal standard that we all can agree on... well... you are barking up the wrong tree. The best laid plans of mice and men can NEVER bring justice to this place.

Because JUSTICE is an illusion.

Let's recap shall we?

David Miller - Wants Justice... willing to do whatever he needs to eliminate Monarchy. THAT to him is Just.

Dawn Lohan - Justice for the wrongs committed against her. An eye for an eye.

Monarchy - Justice for them was being at the top of the mountain. The World title... the matches... the fame... the fortune... the followers. To be Gods of this new world and recognized as such. And if they tell you otherwise... they are lying. Trust me, I know liars when I see them.

Kennedy Street - Believes Justice would be everyone just hand her what she THINKS she justly deserves. How long do you think it would take me to find someone who disagrees with what she thinks she is owed?

Eli D'Angelo - thinks that justice is in the hands of a higher power, but it is a higher power that HE and only HE is a servant of. Therefore, he reaps the benefits more than any other of serving some deity that is NOT Chad Evans.

And there there's You - Justice for the attacks you have suffered. Revenge in its purest form. No matter how you gussy it up with shouts of righteousness.

Justice is nothing more than an independent ideal, as different per person as fingerprints. There is no universal form of justice, so your passing notion of some super club (even if you wouldn't be a part of it) is, sorry to say... impossible.

Because that is NOT the world we live in. In this world, there are two things that matter.

How long one can survive... and when they can't.

Survival is the name of the game. Anything else is just window dressing. As long as you're breathing... you're still in the hunt. When you're not... you're not. And that's all there is to it. And it's survival of the fittest, Amy. Competition, honor, all those wonderful things you love so much. They are a part of that, but you'll never truly come to appreciate a battle like this until you understand that there is only survival that matters...

The rest well... that's just fun.

Once you accept that principle, you will come to know that in life, until you can't survive, you alone are responsible for your own happiness. The world won't give it to you. Your body won't instinctively make you happy. All it cares about is, as the Bee Gees would say, staying alive. Do you understand?

If everything else outside survival is extra... then how do I enjoy an all you can eat buffet of happiness and peace?

And the answer is simple.

By TAKING what makes you happy. By finding that center of pure bliss and never leaving it. Moreover, adding to it. Incorporating it. Forget about your hopes for the justice of SCW, and this goes for the rest of you from Dawn Lohan all the way to Merrick Wiseman.

Get over it. The world is an unfair place.

Even if the strongest, fastest, and best athlete in the world walked into this battle royale, would his chances at winning this thing be any better than the rest of you?

No. In fact, if I were a gambling man (and I am), I would say his chances are a little worse, because everyone here would know how great he or she was, and they'd do everything they can to weaken and defeat him. A sudden attack here, a cheat there...

Now I know, someone like yourself is saying 'But that isn't fair'. Well... Survival doesn't care about fair... and therefore neither does anything added to it.

Let me put it to you this way.

The Hyena is a resilient creature. It can actually survive eating the bones of dead animals. Its jaws are so powerful and its stomach so strong that it can actually digest bones where most animals could not. That's its survival. However... the Hyena only eats bones when it has to. It would much prefer something a little more extravagant. Like a lion or cheetah cub. Now when Hyena's see something better than JUST SURVIVAL, they isolate a weaker prey and then as one, gang jump their quarry, overwhelming it. The victim has no chance, no matter how strong or smart they are.

Now... I ask you... is that fair? No. But it happens. It's the way of the jungle. Outside of survival, the only thing you have a right too (if you are willing to fight for it) is what you can take for yourself and what you can't.

I learned that a long time ago...

Take what you can... when you can.

So abandon your idea for justice. There is only the justice you can get for yourself, and it isn't even justice now once you admit that, Amy and the rest of you. There is only what you can take for yourself. If you want vengeance... go out and get it. If you want gold... go out and get it! If you want to be heralded as GODS... then you know what you have to do.

I don't pass judgment on people's actions here. Probably because, in time, I am going to do worse. A whole lot worse... because I don't have to worry about the morality of my actions in a place like SCW. This isn't real. This isn't the world out there. Out there is worse. Here... you can apparently get away with attempted murder and kidnapping. Here... There is only what you can do for yourself... and only what I can do for myself.

At that point, it's just a matter of whose smarter, and who has a stronger will here.

That's the only contest here.

Taking Hold of the Flame... is no different. 40 superstars in that ring from all over the world. Only one can win... well maybe two under certain circumstances. But all wanting to take for themselves. Now, I have already said that most are looking at this to take the wrong thing, so I won't repeat myself, but Amy... if you want to compete. TRULY compete, and that's all that this battle royale means to you... then I MUST apologize.

I thought that I was the only one. I thought I was the only one who saw this battle for what it really was. Not to earn something or force myself into a main event, but just for the sheer thrill of the hunt... and it appears I may be wrong.

I said maybe... the jury's still out on you, my dear. But we shall see. But IF I am wrong, I can admit that. And to that end, I am sorry for not recognizing your clarity.

But then again, if I was right, that will come out soon enough... won't it?

I hope this has been educational for some of you, but there's one last thing I have to address.

Greg Cherry... a former winner of this battle royale. Still obviously hung up on what used to be. Remember how I said a diamond that shines too long and does nothing else loses its lustre metaphorically speaking? Well... Greg Cherry, you are precisely the living embodiment of that.

Now, if Amy is proof that I may have been wrong about everyone in the battle royale, YOU are the proof that I am right. You look the battle royale, not for what it is, a true hunt. You look at it and see it as a shot of adrenaline to the dying heartbeat of your career. You look at it as an accolade that will lead you back to the World Championship. You speak about being past your prime at 29 and then... then... having nothing left... wow.

Now there is an ugly rumor, Greg... an UGLY rumor about you. There are people who have heard from, what was the word 'reliable sources' that you had been contemplating ending your reign... and not as a wrestler, but as a existing creature in this world. They say you had a gun in your hand, but didn't load it... and some were worried that you'd take your own life at any moment.

And THAT is what has become of Greg Cherry?

That is what your life has been turned into? Depression filled bemoaning over a place like this? Over something isn't even real? This is a show, Greg. This is fantasy! This is a job! It's not YOUR LIFE... And yet you would think your life is worth ending because you can't be the big dog anymore?

Well no... you COULD be. You just won't be, because no one wants to back you, except for an equally whining has been who can't seem to let go, and who seems to have the same problem as you, thinking that WRESTLING is LIFE.

Let me be clear. I hate people like you, Greg. People who think like that. Wrestling is NOT life. Wrestling is work. Or in some cases, it's a hobby. But no matter how you look at it... at its core, it's a competition, and therefore...

Let me spell it out for you again...

IT... IS... A... GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAME!

If this place causes you pain and grief so much that it causes you to put a GUN to your head... Then Cherry boy, it's time to go. Don't throw yourself into a battle you don't even see the point of (the REAL POINT), and one where even you doubt you'll win. LEAVE! DO NOT PASS GO! DO NOT COLLECT TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS!


...
...
...

Seriously, Greg. And this goes for a lot of you...

Get a girlfriend (or get back together with your wife or go gay, I don't know what you do), write a tell all book. Do SOMETHING ELSE, because honestly, every time you open your mouth, it sounds like you're seconds away from putting that gun back in it. Even if it is JUST a rumor... you clearly don't like your place as a wrestler, and if you can't change it... Don't! Let it go...

You had your time. Now it's someone else's.

Someone like me.

And that goes for the rest of you who spend hours a day on the airwaves whining and complaining about what happens to you in this place, and how you aren't getting what you deserve. It really is a simple situation here. Take what you want... or don't. But if you're not going to do what is needed to get what you want... then don't bitch about it.

As I have said, there is only what you can do for yourself and what you won't do for yourself.

At Taking Hold of the Flame, I wanna see just what you are all willing to do for yourselves. What are you willing to TAKE for yourself? Which of you is willing to be the hunter, and who is content being the prey. Win, Lose... I am going for heads. I want the record, damnit! I want everyone to be in awe at the number of people I claim! I want to own this match in every conceivable way possible!

THEN, once it's done, and my fun is passed... then I will focus on Rise to Greatness, if I even decide to go at all.

Because that is MY choice. That is my freedom. I do what makes me happy. And what makes me happy most of all... is the hunt.

And Taking Hold of the Flame, that is going to be one hell of a safari.

I can't wait.

One more thing before I wrap this up.

Greg, and those like you, if you are going to ignore the basic and straight answer staring at you in the face, and continue to spout how miserable you are in wrestling... in losing a GAME... then I have one last bit of advice for you.

Since you won't listen, and you don't have the balls to just walk away, then you're just being a detriment to the industry, the game, and to folks like me who understand and appreciate the true nature of wrestling, and what it is SUPPOSED to be. If you are so intent on being miserable then maybe you should load that gun, Cherry (or Starr or Kennedy or Shilo or Kayl or Lyman or any number of you whining Has Beens)... And maybe you should just pull the trigger.


And then you can leave the rest of them alone... so they can be prepared.










BE PREPARED
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Stacy Kissinger
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Craig's Texas Rose
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ALBUM: Kissinger’s Quest
TRACK 9: Murderer’s Row


DATE: Friday, May 27, 2016
CITY: Dallas, Texas
TIME: 3:33 P.M.


It was as soon as I could get here after receiving the only phone call that my mom is being allowed. I have gone from the capital of Canada, back once again to the biggest city in Texas, the city that I will always call home. This time all of them have come with me. I tried to go alone, but when I saw Craig looking at me yesterday, with me teary-eyed, I whispered to him “Please come with me. I need ya, now more than evuh.”

I still remember the look on his face and him nodding. Ever since then just about everything has been a blur. Before I knew it Tyler, Charlotte and Jessica were along for the ride as well and we were renting a private airplane and being flown direct by a pilot from Ottawa to Love Field just outside of Dallas. I was a mess the entire flight, not able to keep my mind off of my mom, who was then and still is now rotting in a prison cell, for a crime that she obviously did not commit.

The rest are out in a waiting area. I have been allowed access to go in and speak with my mom, even though it is in one of those separator areas, where they separate visitors from prisoners. I can’t even try to be strong. It’s when she now sits down across from me, wearing an orange jumpsuit that I burst into more than just tears. I’m more than a fountain, I’m a river.


“Hey. Don’t cry dear. I didn’t do it and the court case is gonna prove it.”

“I- I’m gonna get ya the best damn lawyer I know!!!”

It’s all I can put out there as a response. I see at the bottom of the glass there is a small space. It’s enough for me to fit my hands through so I can hold hands with my mom. She isn’t calm either, as her hands are shaking, but oddly enough she seems to have more willpower right now, far more.

“I know you will. Please though don’t let this get in the way of yer wrestlin’ dear. I know it’s a potentially big weekend for ya and I don’t want ya cryin’ for me. Stay strong.”

“I’ll try m-mom. I d-don’t know if I can though. Not with you in here.”

She squeezes my hands and I squeeze back a touch. Both of us are now silent, until I hear some footsteps coming from behind me. A voice of one of the prison guards is what I hear from behind.

“Miss Kissinger, Mr. Thomas here asked to join you. I’m sorry, but we can only give you a few more minutes.”

I turn around and look up to see Craig standing there, looking quite forlorn. He now sees my mom, and at the sight of him, I see my mom full out smile.

“From what I’ve heard about you Mr. Thomas, I’m glad that muh daughter met ya. Please, for me, take care of her.”

I feel Craig from behind me place his manly hands on my shoulders. Normally that would be enough to get me to relax, but not this time. I’m just too emotionally spent. He is the one that replies to my mom.

“Don’t worry Mrs. Kissinger, I will. We’ve gotten to know each other really well.”

“She’s been hurt before.”

“I know. I’m not like that. I’m always going to be there for her.”

I see my mom smile, which gets me to smile, even though it’s only just a little bit. I release my hands from my mom’s and the moment after I do, Craig comes to my right hand side and holds out a hand to me. I take it and he pulls me up out of the chair, which draws me up to my full six feet of height. He pulls me into a hug, which is when I hear my mom.

“If what I’ve heard is true and the two of you love one another that much, don’t hold back. Ya never know when life can pull the two of yas apart. Trust me, I know what it’s like. If yer love is true, go for it!”

I hear a buzzer and from behind the glass, my mom is being taken away, most likely back to her cell. I cry out to her.

“I ain’t gonna hold back any more mom! And I’ll be back to help ya in any way I can!”

“I know ya will…”

I hear her normally serene voice fade out. The prison guard that escorts me and Craig out of the prisoner visiting area and back out to the front. Tyler, Charlotte and Jessica all look up at us. I look to my right, seeing that Craig is squeezing my right hand with his left hand extremely firmly. But it doesn’t hurt. I do however whisper to him.

“I mean it. Every word. Whenevuh ya ask, I’m yours.”

He doesn’t respond to me verbally, but just by his lightening touch I can tell that he’s happy to hear me say all I’ve just said. I truly mean it too. I’m ready to WIN something really big, instead of allowing some in-ring losses to get in the way.

Tyler, Charlotte and Jessica all stand up and crowd around the two of us. Charlotte is the one to speak up, which has become quite the norm.


“Is your mom okay at least Stacy?”

“Yeah. I could see it in her eyes though and tell from the tone of her words. She didn’t do it. I’ll be comin’ back down for the court case as soon as I find out the date. Nothin’ more can be done today though, as they won’t allow me to post bail.”

Which is ridiculous in its own right… Knowing that I can’t though has me lowering my head once again. Craig reaches around and raises my chin with his right hand and speaks to me.

“Maybe you’ll feel better after you’re out of here.”

I nod as Charlotte and Tyler lead the way out of the jail, to back outside. The moment we step outside though is when I see the McDonough family, camped out, clearly waiting for me. It’s my childhood friend Jenna that is the outspoken one, walking up to me, getting right in my face.

“Oh look, now all THREE Kissingers are murderers. Guess yer mom was feelin’ left out, huh?”

“I ain’t in no mood for this. And she ain’t guilty.”

“Oh she is. Just like yer fathuh was guilty of killin’ off muh innocence by kidnappin’ me and leavin me for dead in Vegas. And just like you as you actually killed yer own fathuh.”

“I don’t deny eithuh of those Jenna, but I’ve changed. And I accidentally killed muh dad. It wasn’t on damn purpose!”

“Sure it wasn’t. As for ya changin’? Nah. I can see it in yer eyes. You were a killer then, and you’re a killer now.”

I turn away and look over at Jenna’s parents. They turn their eyes away from me.

“You’ve already turned away from me once. Don’t you DARE turn away from me now!”

I go to lurch out at her, which is when Craig, dependable Craig, interjects, placing himself right in between the both of us Dallas-born gals. I get a glimpse over at Tyler and Charlotte, who are kind of half hugging each other, looking quite frightened for what might happen. I look in a different direction quickly to see that the usual calm Jessica is also on pins and needles, sensing something bad is about to go down.

“Who do you think YOU are?! You have NO right mouthing off at Stacy like that! Back off now, seriously!”

Jenna does back off, but she doesn’t look all that intimidated.

“Oh. Ya must be the newest boyfriend. I’m so sorry.”

I have to hold Craig’s arms back as I can see his right fist balling up already. I again whisper to him, as softly as I can.

“Turn around Craig. Please, look at me, only me. She ain’t worth it.”

It’s my turn now to put my hands on Craig’s shoulders, and even though we both feel like we can explode like powder kegs at this very moment, he hears me. When I take my hands off his shoulders he turns around and I look right into his eyes, and I see his are right on mine. Right now he could easily believe Jenna and just run away from me, leaving me to have lost everything once again, but he isn’t budging. Instead he’s defending me, much like how I have and always will defend him. My mom’s right. If Craig doesn’t ask me soon, I’m asking him.

Out of the corner of my eye I can see Jenna watching me and Craig. She simply walks down the jail’s staircase, followed by her parents. As soon as they’re gone I lean in and kiss him.


“Thanks for bein’ here for me.”

He simply nods and holds my right hand with his left as we descend the staircase ourselves, followed by Tyler and Charlotte, and Jessica bringing up the rear. It’s going to be a long trip back up north of the border, but at least I have them by my side, especially Craig. Hopefully I will ALWAYS have Craig, because I love him more than anyone else in the universe!


DATE: Saturday, May 28, 2016
CITY: Toronto, Ontario, Canada
TIME: 8:40 P.M.


The sun has just finished setting on what has been a chaotic first half of the holiday weekend not just for me, but for Craig, Tyler and my Starlets as well. Yet we find ourselves up here not very far away from the birthplace of Supreme Championship Wrestling, which is London, Ontario, with Taking Hold of the Flame being just one night away. Tyler, Charlotte and Jessica have all retired to their assigned hotel rooms, but Craig and I are outside down to just bathing suits, heading for the rather luxurious outdoor pool that the hotel has. Neither of us have even bothered to wear towels around ourselves and those are instead both slung over Craig’s right shoulder, as he walks with me hand in hand. Honestly I’ve never felt more comfortable with anyone before. And even though there are some others out here down by the pool and they’re looking at us, I don’t care. It makes me smile, knowing that even if I can’t survive all the way through the Taking Hold of the Flame battle royal, that I will not have lost everything.

Craig lets go of my hand now and goes and reserves two chairs by placing the towels down on each of them, not to mention putting our sneakers down on each as well. I immediately head for the pool and step down inside its waters. After the long journey it’s been, going from the Great White North to the Deep South and back up here to the Great White North in the span of a few days, it’s nice to feel the water against my skin. I look down at myself and even though my 36 D’s look like they’re about to pop out of the Adrenaline Rush colored bikini top, I feel comfortable. I get even more so when I look around and see Craig wading his way down into the pool now too. I walk over to him and rest my now somewhat wet brunette hair against his left shoulder. I lift my legs up and he does too, leading for us to float over to one of the sides of the pool, right by one of the pool’s jets. It blasts us with a very nice feeling actually, which leads to me pulling my head up and looking at him. I don’t speak though, being he does.


“I can see why you like the water so much. It definitely is nice to have my head above water with you this time.”

I can’t help but to giggle a little, remembering now back to the day that our relationship really changed, for the better. I turn my giggle off though when I feel a new jet hit us. This one makes me moan some as it feels really good against my back. As I enjoy it, Craig looks around but does nothing as people are around. When I touch him on the arm, I find him to be shaking some.

“Hey, somethin’ wrong?”

“Not really. I guess I just wish we were alone. I feel like I’m on trial out here.”

“Because of me?”

Clearly he doesn’t know how to answer that, as he instead stays silent.

“We don’t gotta stay out here if ya don’t wanna. I’ll go wherever you go.”

“I just hope you don’t follow me with getting eliminated from the battle royal tomorrow night.”

“Hey now. Please don’t turn into me Craig.”

“I’m not. It’s just that… I really want to see you succeed. I want you to go out there and WIN the battle royal tomorrow night, even if you have to take me out to do it. Don’t worry. I won’t hate you. Tyler and I already have a date for the Tag Titles soon enough, but you, I know you want it. You REALLY want a championship. I’m not going to be the one to get in your way.”

“No Craig. I ain’t eliminatin’ you or Tyler. I love you and I really like Tyler as a friend too. I’m not gonna let muh career aspirations get in the way. Heck, it’s the reason for why you and Tyler aren’t tag team champions already. Despite what muh old friend Jenna told me down there in Dallas, with the way it came across, I don’t wanna do any more murderin’, not even by accident. I did kill muh fathuh Craig, but it was an accident, an act of self-defense. He tried to kill me. I don’t wanna be the one responsible for killin’ yours or Tyler’s SCW World Championship hopes.”

Hopefully he understands that. I don’t know if he does. But he does walk away from where we’ve been lounging out, just as I feel another blast from the jet that gets me to moan again. My eyes though follow him as he gets out of the pool. I remove myself from the pool’s wall but stay in the pool, calling out to him.

“Where are ya goin’?”

“Back upstairs. I need to think about somethin’.”

“Oh.”

I pause, now feeling I’ve said something that I shouldn’t have said.

“It okay if I meet up with ya in a bit?”

He turns back around once and tells me “Sure.” before he walks over to our chairs, grabs his sneakers and one of the towels, and then heads back inside the hotel. I sigh and lower my head, again looking down at the Adrenaline Rush colored small bikini that I’m donning. Tomorrow night I guess does kind of put all three of us in a tough spot. Myself, Craig, and Tyler… none of us will want to eliminate one another. If it comes down to just the three of us though, it will definitely have to happen. This is a scenario while it’s not likely could happen. It’s a scenario that’s making me wade out of the pool’s waters. I clamber out and walk over to grab my sneakers and the remaining towel. I wrap the towel around me and then sit on the edge of one of the chairs. It is here that I camp out until the five other people in and near the pool vacate the area, leaving me all by my lonesome.

Sighing I stand up and pull my iPhone from out of my right sneaker. I turn it on and soon enough I’m pouring everything out that’s in my head and on my tongue.


“I’ve been deemed a murderer. I’ve been deemed a loser. I’ve been deemed a woman that just can’t get it done, no matter how many times she attempts to reboot her wrestlin’ career. I’ve been deemed all these things, and have been marked as guilty of all of them. To many, MANY others of yas, ya already have me sentenced to murderer’s row, knowin’ for sure that I’ll nevuh be able to recover, that I’ll nevuh be able to shake the demons of muh past, and that I’ll nevuh evuh become a champion again.”

“But yer wrong. I WILL recover from it all, and someday I will be a champion again. Tomorrow night here in Toronto is a chance for all 40 of us, a chance to go on to Rise to Greatness and perhaps become SCW’s next World Champion, whethuh it be against the current challenger Ace Marshall or against the current champion Rachel Foxx, not to mention the farce of a woman that’s gonna be cashin’ in her Trios Tournament winnings just to get in on the Rise to Greatness main event.”

“But that’s somethin’ I ain’t gonna concern muhself with, even if I do find muhself as the last one standin’ tomorrow night. ‘Cause if I do, I will have proven to the world that I’m a survivuh and that I can outlast anyone, at any given time.”


I take one deep breath, let it out, and then continue.

“That’s what tomorrow night’s all about, it’s about survival. Ya gotta be careful in that ring and not get yerself into a precarious position, somethin’ that I’ve found muhself in too many times ovuh the years. This year that ain’t gonna happen as I’m gonna do muh absolute best to stop disappointin’ the people that are truly stickin’ up for me.”

“Does that mean I’ll hide in a corner though? Absolutely damn not! I am who I am, and that’s a fightuh that wears her heart on her sleeve. I’m gonna be right there in the middle, ready to take on all comers!”

“Speakin’ of all you comers, from what I’ve heard so far, ya’ll seem to be just speakin’ yer minds about what Takin’ Hold of the Flame means to you. Look ya’ll, it’s no secret that this battle royal, this pay per view means a LOT to all of us. We all have our own agendas, just like Rachel Foxx has had hers, statin’ that for her there was no Plan B, only Plan A, which was to be successful and rise to the top. And she did it. A lot doubted her, but she did it!”

“A whole hell of a lot of yas doubt me. To that lot of yas, ya believe that I shouldn’t even be here. Ya believe that I should have left the wrestlin’ ring long looooong ago. But I know I still belong here. I know I can be successful. I know I can accomplish a whole heck of a damn lot! While all of you SAY that ya want the flame tomorrow night, I AM the flame! My heart has always been ablaze and the fire has nevuh EVUH gone out! Nor will it evuh do so! It doesn’t mattuh what all of ya’ll accuse me of. It doesn’t mattuh if one or more of ya is able to lift me up and eliminate me tomorrow night. It doesn’t mattuh if ya throw water on me, spit “venom” at me like Red Rayne, blind me, label me a losuh, accuse me of muzzlin’ someone like Gable Winchester, or defeat me countless times. The TRUE flame, my heart, will NEVUH DIE!”

“For all of yas that go to eliminate me, I’m sorry, so truly sorry, but ya just ain’t gonna get the damn job done!!! It’s my time to start risin’. It’s my time to stop disappointin’ those close to me. It’s my time to FINALLY start bein’ the best Stacy Kissinger I can be!”


I start walking now away from the pool area, ready to join Craig Thomas, and ready to take on those who will also be trying to take hold of the Flame that burns brightly inside me.





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HardyGirl
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OOC: The research about alcoholism in the CD is real, I based it on an article I found a few months ago and saved it to use at the opportune moment. I also did some checking around outside of the one article and everything checks out. Pretty fascinating stuff, really. Click here if you want to read it.

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[align=center]{{Friday, May 20th
New Orleans}}
[/align]


You said you had something different for me today?

Amy sits in Dr. Lucio's office, sans notebook. The doctor had told Amy not to bring anything with her for this session, and she had some information she wanted to share with her, some research she'd recently become aware of, concerning alcoholism and recovery. Given that the first thing Dr. Lucio suggested Amy do about her addiction was attend an AA meeting, which turned out to be entirely too God-based for Amy's taste, she walked into the office today with a healthy dose of skepticism.

Indeed. Without saying too much, for confidentiality reasons... you are not my only client who is dealing with alcoholism. You are also not the only one who's succumbed to a bit of a relapse. So, I started looking into it. If the way that we treat this kind of addiction – complete abstinence, like with drug addictions – is really effective. Or should we be doing something else? Here.” Dr. Lucio pulls out a folder, the kind a college student would turn in a research paper in, with a clear cover. She hands it to Amy, and Amy glances at the cover page, which is oddly blank.
What's this?” Amy flips through the pages quickly. It's mostly all printed text, with a few black and white pictures here and there. She doesn't stop flipping to look at what they are, though.
A compilation of the information I found. I'll go over the major points with you today, but I made copies of that for all of my patients who have similar issues.
Okay... so what is it, exactly? Did they invent some kind of magic pill, or something?
Dr. Lucio grins. “Actually... yes.
Amy gives a skeptical scowl. “... Seriously?
There is a medication.... but let's not skip ahead, shall we?” Amy nods, now flipping through the booklet a little slower, noticing that a lot of the pictures are actually graphs. Pie charts, bar graphs, and the like. And one was an enlarged picture of a pill. Well I'll be damned, she thinks.
Okay. I'm listening.
Well... I became curious about the way this is treated after you told me how the meeting I originally suggested to you turned out not to suit your needs. A few of the others didn't stick with it, either, for various reasons. And I realized that continuing to go to them or not didn't seem to have an effect on who stayed sober and who slipped and had drinks. So-
Can I make a comment here?” Dr. Lucio nods, interested. “There is a big difference between having a drink, and being drunk. I told you about the few I had in Japan... I wasn't drunk. I mean, I might have failed a breathalyzer, but I wasn't anywhere near not being able to function.
Mmm. I agree. And that's part of what spurred me to continue to research this. And in doing so, I discovered many studies and reports showing that those alcoholics who try to abstain totally, are typically the ones who fall the hardest, and go on dangerous binges.
So... you're saying that moderation is key?
Dr. Lucio sighs a little. “Yes, and no. It's isn't really that black and white. It depends on the individual. Some people spiral out of control after one glass. Others can handle a little more than that and not go over board. Based on what you told me about your incident in Japan, I am guessing you fall into the later.
Amy nods. “I've always had a higher tolerance than you might expect based on my size. My ex-husband was always amazed that I could keep up with him.
Some research suggests that a higher tolerance may be genetic. If that were true, it would explain a lot of the disparity in tolerance, and susceptibility to relapse. Let me ask you a few things, okay?
Amy hesitates a second, remembering the last time Dr. Lucio wanted to ask her a few things. But, this was a totally different topic, so she nods. “Sure. Shoot.
The drinks you had in Japan, nearly a month ago, yes?
Just about.
Was that the only time you had anything, or were there others?
Um... about a week later I had a glass of wine with dinner. But since then, nothing.
Dr. Lucio seems surprised, and maybe slightly impressed. “Just one?” Amy nods. “And you didn't feel like you needed to keep going?
No. It was... weird, actually. Months ago, I couldn't hardly think straight without it. But those two nights, it wasn't like something I needed. It was just... there. Something that tasted good. I didn't feel the need to drain the whole bottle.
Dr. Lucio makes some notes, nodding to herself. She flips a page in her notepad, reads something, then looks back up. “Do you feel like maybe your three months or so of abstaining flipped some sort of... reset switch?
Yeah, actually. That's a good way of putting it.
The reason I asked you that is because that's how it was described to me by someone with similar experience to yours.” Dr. Lucio flips through her notes again, looking for something, and finds it a few seconds later. “What I discovered in the last month or so since I've been researching this, is that the way the medical profession has looked at alcoholism has changed in the last few years. I feel woefully behind on the topic, but this isn't really my area of expertise. It's only recently become more of the work that I do. Anyway... alcohol-use disorder – which is what they're calling it now – used to be seen as a rather... binary thing. Either you had a severe problem, or you didn't. Now, it's seen more of as a spectrum. There's only a small percentage, maybe fifteen or so, who are seen as severe. The rest are seen as a mild to moderate range. The problem is that while each group needs specialized, and in a lot of cases, individualized, treatment, most treatment plans only cater to the severe group. The ones who can't handle just one or two drinks and stop there. And people like you are left behind.

Amy listens to to all this intently, she'd never really looked into any of this, or tried to research treatment effectiveness. She'd seen it as something she had to deal with on her own, other than coming to these sessions. She'd even given up the Spiral Steps group, despite the fact it was headed by an old friend. She kept in touch with her friend, but she just didn't vibe with the group setting. Having taken a few seconds to digest everything Dr. Lucio said, a few questions come to mind.
So, you're saying that there's a different, new, kind of treatment? One that would help me better than just chatting with you every two weeks and fighting off the temptation the rest of the time?[color]”
There is. And coming here is a part of it. The whole AA, twelve-step thing is outdated and, when you read that booklet I gave you, you'll find that it's not very effective at all.
Amy scoffs. No shit. “That does not surprise me in the slightest.
I didn't think it would.” Dr. Lucio grins for a second, before getting back to business. “But it's not for the reason you think. The main problem isn't with the pushing God. It's with pushing complete abstinence. There was a study done about forty years ago with lab rats – the details are in that booklet. But the short version is this. The hypothesis was that rats exposed to alcohol would 'forget' it, and no longer be interested in it after being denied it for a short time period. The study proved otherwise. Once re-exposed, they basically binged. This result is a good explanation for why so many people who try AA and complete abstinence eventually fail. Totally avoiding alcohol only makes the cravings more intense.
That sounds right. I remember before the OD, when I didn't have anything while working, my favorite part about getting home was having the first drink in a few days. It was like.... well, it is, a drug. And after I got out of the hospital and decided I wasn't going to do it anymore, that didn't make the want go away. It was hard. Some days were worse than others, but every single day was a struggle. Some days it still is. Maybe that's why I did what I did in Japan. I was tired of fighting it.
Dr. Lucio nods in understanding. “That makes a lot of sense, and fits in with everything I've learned. Also, different people drink for different reasons. One blanket treatment program can't help everyone. In your case, you've made a lot of progress since the first time I saw you. One thing that struck me the last time we spoke though, is that you said you 'screwed up' in Japan, yet technically speaking, you didn't. If you're telling the truth about only having a few and not getting drunk – and I have no reason to suspect you're lying – then that's not a screw up at all. That's a huge step in actually overcoming this problem of yours and finding some balance.

Hmm. Amy looks down, idly flipping through the pages. She hadn't thought of it like that. But she had to admit, Dr. Lucio had a point. Sort of. She'd really only stopped drinking that night because she left the bar with the man she met there, and once they got to their destination... drinking more really wasn't on either of their minds. Amy wonders if that would have been different a few months ago, if she would have turned down the offer to leave for other activities in favor of sitting there and finishing the bottle of expensive tequila. She couldn't pose this question to Dr. Lucio, though, because she had no intentions of telling her about the hotel or what she did there. But the night about a week later, with the one glass of wine? That had been a conscious decision that she was only going to have the one glass. And that's what she did. Amy realizes it was a bigger step than she thought at the time.

Okay. So what do I do differently, since coming here has been a big help?
You said a few minutes ago that the drinks you had recently were just there, more specifically the wine the one night with your dinner. That it was something you had because it went with the meal and tasted good. I assume that's what your... relationship with alcohol was before it became a problem?
Kinda... I find it strange that we've never actually talked about this before, but it's really sort of been an on and off again problem for me for years. Going back to when Heath died. During the times I wasn't overdoing it, I'd have a few with friends, or with dinner. After Dustin left me was when it got really bad the first time. And it went on longer than recently, for almost two years. I think the accidental OD had something to do with it not lasting as long this time. Years ago I didn't have an... event, like that to really make me see how bad it was. I just sort of... tapered off. I don't really remember making a conscious decision to quit. Maybe as time passed, I needed it less.
That's a possibility. As I said before, every alcoholic drinks for a different reason. And the fact that you have previously gone in a sort of cycle of overdoing it, and practicing moderation... I think makes you a good candidate for trying this new treatment, the so called 'magic pill' I mentioned..
What is it? What does it do?
It's called naltrexone. And it's basically an opioid antagonist. What that does, is block endorphins in the brain from reaching their target. For alcoholics, the endorphins released trigger and strengthen certain synapses in the brain. The stronger those synapses get, the more likely you are to think about and crave the alcohol. This drug blocks those endorphins created by drinking.
That almost sounds like SSRI's with depression and anxiety drugs.
It is similar. Remember the rats from earlier? The binging ones? The same researcher gave them this drug an hour before being exposed to the alcohol. And found they had no more interest. Eventually the drug was found safe for humans and trials were conducted, and it works much the same way on us. In numerous clinical trials, it was found that if a person takes a dose an hour before drinking, they found they didn't crave it as much, or at all. These people then learned to control how much they drank, and some stopped altogether.
Amy takes another few seconds to process what she's being told, although she is a bit skeptical about this. If this worked so well, why wasn't it being handed out like aspirin at doctor's offices and homeless shelters and the like? It really did sound like a 'magic pill' and she was wary of anything that sounded so easy. Maybe there was much more to it in the information booklet she held in her lap, and Dr. Lucio was giving her a 'Cliff's Notes' version. But...

Okay. That sounds really... too simple. If it's so effective, why isn't its use more widespread?
The main studies on this were done in Finland. It was only approved by the FDA for this purpose in 1994, and it's taken a while to really gain traction here. It's starting to get a little more traction in the last few years, but at this time less than one percent of people being treated for alcohol abuse are being prescribed this drug. There is a whole lot of history behind that, from the way AA came to be, alcoholism being declared a disorder rather than just a moral failing, and how really under-researched it's been in the medical field. But what it boils down to is, most people, including doctors, pose the question – how can you consider giving alcoholics a drug?
Hmm. I guess that makes sense as a knee jerk reaction. But we use drugs to treat everything from strep throat to nicotine addiction. Why not alcohol, too?
There's a much more detailed explanation of that in that booklet. Some of it goes back to the 60's when they gave drinkers Valium and they just wound up hooked on that, as well as the alcohol. Another factor is that naltrexone is now available as a generic, so there is little reason for pharmaceutical companies to promote it.” Dr. Lucio makes a face, as if that part of the lack of use of this option disgusts her.
Of course, it would be about money. That's ridiculous.” But Amy knows better than to think common sense would take priority over profit, especially in America, and especially with medication.
There are a few doctors and treatment facilities who are using naltrexone for their patients with good results. I would like to add my name and credentials to that list. Starting with you, if you're willing, and two of my other patients.

Amy leans back in the chair, still flipping through the thick booklet. This was a lot to take in. Before today, she didn't know that such a medication existed, and now she was being offered it. A clear, medical, and according to Dr. Lucio, proven way to help people control their drinking. Finding the picture of the pill in the booklet as she flips, Amy stops on that page. The text there goes into the more technical, biological ways that alcohol affects the brain and body, and what the drug does to counter act that. Amy skims over this, picking out some of the things Dr. Lucio said about endorphins and blocking it. She flips a little more, seeing references to different studies. Even with all of this information in front of her, she's skeptical. It still seemed too easy. After almost a minute, she closes the booklet and looks back up.
And what if I say no?
Then we go on as we have been. Maybe you'll stay in this period of being able to control yourself better. Maybe you'll never have problems again. But... maybe you will. With this treatment, there is a very good chance you won't have to wonder about that.
I don't know...
You don't have to decide right now. Take that booklet home. Read it. Do your own research. We can discuss it the next time you see me.
Okay. That sounds fair. I do appreciate you taking the time to explain this to me and at least make this offer. I would have never known about it otherwise, thank you.
Just doing my job.” Dr. Lucio smiles. Amy does too, amused that the good doctor keeps using that line.

Amy spent the next ten minutes or so filling Dr. Lucio in on the latest developments concerning Wyatt and the baby. She didn't mention the whole blackmail thing, but she did tell her about she and Wyatt's argument, and how he went out of town for work at the last minute. Amy and Dr. Lucio agree that perhaps he was trying to do to her what she does to him when she leaves for work. Amy feels like that's incredibly petty, but that everything hangs in limbo until the DNA test result comes back. Amy promises to call Dr. Lucio when she gets the result, and Dr. Lucio stresses that Amy can call her at any time, if she needs to talk. Amy thanks her, and heads home, with a lot on her mind.


[align=center]* * * * *


{{Later that afternoon}}[/align]


After the appointment with Dr. Lucio, Amy went to the gym for a few hours, getting some training in for her upcoming shows. A lot of her in-ring work had been with tossing heavybags over the top rope. If she could throw those dead weight things out easily, then people shouldn't be as hard. After her training, she went home and took a hot shower, to try to make the bruise that was still on her back from Shilo's chair shot feel better. She'd looked at it in the mirror, and the color had faded from blue and purple, to a deep red and yellow around the edges. The medics told her it went down to the bone, yet she had refused any pain medication. It was just a bruise, after all.

Just after getting out of the shower, Jaina and Loki come in, having been dropped off from school by one of Jaina's friends' parents. The kids were excited, as this was the last week of school before summer vacation. Jaina had extra reason to be excited though, as Amy soon found out. Jaina said bye to someone on her phone and plopped herself down on the couch next to Amy, a big grin on her face.
So. Momma. Remember when Katie left, and you and Mr. Darren said something about me maybe going to visit during the summer?
Yeah.... and?” Amy had a feeling she knew what was coming, but she wouldn't assume.
Well. I just talked to Katie. And Mr. Darren. And he said I can go for the whole summer! I mean, if it's okay with you.
All summer? You really want to do that? You'll miss coming with me to work. And what about your other friends?
But you have a show in Miami in a few weeks. He said we could all go! And most of my other friends are going on vacation or something. Plus, it's Katie. I miss her, Momma.
Amy smiles at her daughter. She knew Jaina had been having a hard time since Katie left to live with her dad. She had no intentions of denying her going to visit. She just wanted to make sure this was what she really wanted to do with her summer. “Well.. if you're sure... okay.” Jaina gets a Bree-esque huge smile on her face, and moves to give her mom a huge hug, but Amy hold her hand out, stopping her. “But. I want to talk to Darren first and make sure everything is okay, and go over a few things.
Oh, I know. He actually said for you to call him soon. Like, this week. Oh! And he said if he wants, and you let, Loki can come, too!
Really? How did that come about?
Cause Loki is a butt and he asked. But I don't mind! Katie's step-brother, Noah, is Loki's age, and he's not as annoying as she first thought he was. She says they'd get along, they like a lot of the same stuff.
Amy had to admit to herself that the idea of a summer free of the kids was tempting. She'd miss them of course, she'd never been away from them for that long. But, she did promise Jaina she could go visit Katie. And if Darren was willing to allow Jaina to take her brother with her... why not?
Okay. But, like I said. Nothing is set in stone until I talk to Darren. Got it?
Jaina didn't hear much after the 'okay.' She squees and finally gives her mom that hug. Amy laughs a little and hugs her daughter back. She had a feeling that she would be sending a girl to Florida, and a young woman would be coming home.


[align=center]* * * * *


{{Monday, May 23rd
New Orleans}}
[/align]


At the same diner as just over a week ago, but this time inside in a smaller, rear dining room, Amy and Wyatt are once again waiting for Gina to arrive. This time though, Amy feels like she has the upper hand for the first time since this whole mess started almost two months ago. After her session with Dr. Lucio, Amy told Wyatt about the medication the doctor told her about, they flipped through the booklet together, and he encouraged her to try it. It was the first time they'd had a real conversation about something other than either Gina or the kids in weeks, and it made Amy feel better, like maybe there was something left to work on, after all. He'd even said he would try to clear his schedule for the weekend so he could go with her to both the VWA and SCW pay per views, rather than just the SCW one like he said before.
They'd also talked about Gina of course, and they made a decision together about what they were going to do, depending on what the results came out to be. It had been agreed to send the test to a third-party testing company, rather than Gina's doctor, and to have the results sent to Amy's house. Amy had been surprised when Gina agreed to all this, she assumes she was more desperate for the money than she first thought.
The package had arrived earlier this morning via FedEx, and Amy had to sign for it. The envelope was tamper-proof, and as also agreed, she had not opened it. Instead, Gina would open it when she arrived. All this subterfuge necessary to ensure that the other party didn't tamper with anything. Amy found it hilarious that Gina didn't trust them, when she was the one who lied for two months and was blackmailing them with the threat of a media circus. Amy checks the time on her watch – just after noon. She hoped Gina would get here soon and just get this over with.

You nervous?
Wyatt's question interrupted her thoughts. She sets the phone down, and shakes her head. “No. Just ready to put this behind us.
Yeah.... so am I.” His voice was a little detached, but Amy thought nothing of it, just that he was as sick of this mess as she was. Wyatt turns his head, and Amy glances in the direction he's looking, to see the pert blonde walking towards them. Again, she's wearing an outfit that flaunts her stomach – this time a sleeveless fitted halter top with denim shorts. She sits without being asked again, and immediately eyes the white and purple FedEx envelope laying on the table next to Amy.
Is that it? No greeting, no trying to be nice this time.
Yes.” Amy picks it up, eyes the red thread that would rip open the tamper-proof seal, and holds it out towards Gina. “Why wait? All of us want this over with.
Fine.” Gina puts her hand on the envelope, but doesn't take it. Instead, she looks towards Wyatt. “Maybe you should open it.
I thought you were adamant that you do it, because you don't trust us.
I changed my mind. I already know what the result is. I've known this whole time. I'd rather watch you do it.
Boy, this woman was one piece of fucking work, Amy thinks. She starts to pull the envelope back. “If you two are gonna debate over who opens this thing, I'll do it.
Wyatt and Gina exchange an odd glance, that Amy did not like, then both shrug. “I don't care.
Go ahead.
Amy hesitates a second or two. She hadn't expected either of them to agree to that. But, fuck it. She shrugs, pulls her hand back, and pulls the red string, ripping the seal, before she can change her mind. She pulls out a thin stack of papers, flips past the first page, knowing that the result isn't there, and starts to read the second page, past the chart of DNA markers, to the bottom.

There.


Probability of Paternity – 0%

The alleged father is EXCLUDED as the biological father of the tested child.



Expressionless, she hands it to Wyatt. He scans the page much as Amy did, and exhales hard when he sees it. Amy can't tell if that's out of relief.. or disappointment. Wyatt tosses the papers towards Gina, glaring at her. “All of this... this grandstanding, and lying, and... threats. For nothing. Get out.
Gina picks the papers up, glances at it, as if she was only vaguely curious what the chart looked like, rather than what the result was. Her head snaps up sharply at Wyatt's demand that she leave. “Out? I don't think so. Not without what we agreed on.
Amy reaches across the table and snatches the papers out of Gina's hand. “Oh, you mean the ten grand? I'm afraid I have some bad news for you.
I told you I wasn't giving you a penny. And I meant it.
Gina sits up straight, and glares back and forth between Amy and Wyatt. She has a slightly surprised and amused look on her face. “You're kidding, right? You're really going to risk both of your reputations on this? My God, you're even dumber than I thought. Fine. One phonecall and-
Uh... not so fast. You see this?” Amy waves the papers in the air. “This was your leverage. Which you don't have anymore. One word to even the lowest ranking intern at TMZ, and you will be sued for defamation faster than you can even hang up the phone.
Gina laughs. “It's only defamation if it's false, sweetie. That stint in prison? Verifiable.
That... wasn't entirely true. But Amy holds her tongue, because in this case it didn't matter. “It is. But everything else you said you were going to tell them? That paper there proves that's false, and the date on it is, obviously, before any story you would give to any reporter.
Gina's face loses color. Apparently she hadn't thought this through well enough. “You... you really don't care if I go to them with all the gory details of-
It's old news, Gina. Over a decade. No current relevance. No one will pick it up.
You agreed! I have this stupid test done and you pay me back for ruining everything! You both agreed!
Gina is nearly hysterical and Amy actually fears for the health of the baby if Gina didn't calm down, a blood-pressure spike wouldn't be good. Amy shouldn't care, but the kid was innocent.
What are you gonna do, call the cops? Tell them your marks in your blackmail scheme outsmarted you? You're damn lucky we don't sue you anyway, for extortion!
You can't do that! …. can you?
Amy just nods, a smirk on her face. She didn't think that was actually possible, but if Gina thought it was, that was all she cared about. “I suggest you leave now, before we change our minds about not calling my lawyer.
Gina looks back and forth between Amy and Wyatt a few times, as if waiting to see if they were going to crack. When they don't, she does instead. “But.... I have nothing. And it's your fault...
You have more than you're acting like, with how many times you've flown back and forth from Chicago to here.
This trip took most of what I had left. I was supposed to be leaving here with a check!
Amy has enough. She grabs her bag, pulls her wallet out, and before Wyatt can stop her, fills out a check. After ripping it out, she slams it on the table, and slides her hand over. “There. I will at least pay for your plane ticket home. Just get the hell out of our sight, and don't bother coming back.
Gina looks at the check on the table, and back up at Amy, as if she thought Amy might snatch it back up. When she doesn't, Gina picks it up, and laughs. “One thousand? Really? What the fuck is that going to do?!
Buy a hell of a lot of formula and diapers. And you're lucky I'm even giving you that. I just want you to go... away.
Gina stares at the check, and then folds it and tucks it into her small clutch, then glares at both of them. Standing up, she tries to seem tough and bitchy, but Amy can see the defeat in her eyes. “I hope you two can live with yourselves after what you did to me. This is an insult. and just remember this.... what goes around, comes around.
Amy laughs. “Oh, sweetie... don't try to educate me on karma. You'll find yourself woefully unprepared.
Gina just intensifies her glare, and storms off without another word.

When Gina is out of sight, Amy releases a breath she didn't know she was holding. Looking over at Wyatt, she sees him with one hand rubbing over his face, the tension that had been in his eyes for the last several weeks gone. At least... mostly. Amy figures it would take a while for it to dissipate completely. There would be the worry for at least a little while that Gina would think of some new way to mess with them. But, she wasn't going to worry about that. The immediate problem was gone, she had proof on paper, and it only cost her the price of the test plus one grand. Small price to pay for peace of mind, and the satisfaction that she had been right from the start.

The server returns with Amy and Wyatt's drinks, Gina having been here and gone so fast that the server didn't even realize another person had been there. He asks if they want to order, and Amy asks for just a few more minutes. He nods, and walks off. In the meantime, Wyatt has picked up the papers again and is reading them intently, one hand still over his face. Before she can stop herself, the question that had been on her mind since he first saw the result bubbled out of her mouth. “Is that relief on your face... or disappointment?
Wyatt snaps his head towards her, stunned. “Are you serious?
Yeah, I'm serious. Because I can't tell.
You mean that after all this.... everything that was just said, you still think I wanted this to be different?” He tosses the papers down on the table, annoyed.
I don't know what to think. You wouldn't either if you could see your own face right now.
What does that even mean?
It means that you were staring at that piece of paper as if waiting for the words to change... I don't understand how you could even consider the idea of wanting to have anything to do with being tied to that bitch for the rest of your life.
Wyatt shakes his head, and Amy sees something like resignation in his face. She thinks it's because she figured things out, but it isn't. “That's ridiculous, Amy! You're just seeing what you want to see. The idea of a kid isn't that terrible, but not her. I don't want anything to do with her!
Amy doesn't hear anything past 'terrible.' She gapes at him angrily. “Not that terrible?! Are you kidding me? You know, I knew it. I fucking knew it, when it took you so long to decide about giving her the money, or even about forcing this damn test! I-
That was because I wanted you to be part of the damn decision! Maybe if you were home more than a day or two at a time we could have finished a damn conversation and got it over with a lot faster.
Amy leans back in her chair, shaking her head, arms crossed. “Oh, here we go. Of course you were going to somehow make this about my job. I'm surprised it took this long, that's what everything always boils down to for you. It always has, and it always will.
Amy-
But let's not forget the fact that the last two weeks, it was you blowing me off for your work. Like last weekend when you told me at the last possible minute that you had to go out of town. At least with me you know when I'm leaving. Pretty convenient for not being able to come with me to any shows since March.
It's not like that at all. You know they've been working on this new place for months, I didn't have a choice. It's not-
No, stop. I don't don't want to hear any more excuses. If you don't want to travel with me, just say so. You know, if what you wanted was a stay at home girlfriend, or... or.. 'wifey,' maybe you should have just pretended bitchface was telling the truth and went home with her.
Wyatt looks at Amy as if he doesn't recognize her. She drops her head, realizing that was a little too far. “I didn't mean that, I'm sorry.
Bullshit. You don't say things you don't mean, remember? I was gonna wait to say this til we were someplace private, but fuck it... this was a mistake.
What?
This. Us. Trying to pretend like being together was ever going to work. I can't do it anymore.

Amy slumps back in her chair, her anger instantly deflated. Sure, this was one hell of an argument, but they'd had worse and were still here. Right? “You can't be serious...
I am serious. You know, all those times when you pushed me away, kept me at arm's length, I thought it was just because you were scared, and that this would be different. Because you finally admitted what I'd been waiting for fifteen years to hear you say, that you love me.
That was why, I do-
But, I was wrong. Things just keep coming up that push us apart, like something, your 'Fate' maybe, has been trying to tell us all this time that no, this isn't right.
Amy leans forward, resting her arms on the table, everything she was so angry about minutes ago forgotten. “You're wrong.... it is. Don't you remember my dream I told you about, when I was passed out? When Heath-
Wyatt shakes his head dismissively. “No. That wasn't him. That was your chemically impaired brain manifesting something to tell you wanted to hear, to allow you to admit it. But we were both wrong. This was never going to work, Amy, you have to see that. You were right, two years ago when you yelled at me that your job was always going to get in the way.
But... it was different... you were trying...
I did try. But throw in the fact that you don't trust me, and-
Yes I do! I trust you more than anyone else alive, you know that!
That might be true. But it's not complete. You didn't believe me for one second through this whole thing that I didn't want anything to do with that kid or her. I can't live without complete trust. I can't love like that.
I can't believe you're doing this... We only just read that damn paper, we just need to let it sink in, we can work through this. I-
No, we can't. Because you're always gonna be leaving soon for some show or another. I need you to understand that I do love you, and I want you to be happy. Your job does that... but as long as you keep that job, and as long as you can't trust me completely, I'll just have to do it from afar.
Wyatt... I-
It's okay, though. I'm used to it.

Amy can't find any words. She just looks down at the table, trying to process the fact that for once, for the first time ever, he was the one pushing her away. They sit in silence, as Amy doesn't bother to try to wipe away the few tears that have trailed down her face. She can't find it in herself to protest anymore. She had almost seen it coming, really. She just never thought it would be him that would pull the trigger. After about a minute or so of silence, Wyatt breaks it, quietly.
The new gym in Shreveport is about ready to open. They asked me to go up there to run it. For at least a year.” Amy looks up, a bit of a frown darkening her already dour expression. “I put off giving them an answer, because of... all this. But, I took the offer. I'm leaving this weekend.
Amy just shakes her head at first. He had this planned. He had to have, to have already accepted that offer and made plans to leave this weekend. Which meant he already knew he wasn't going to her shows with her, even though he told her he'd try. She wonders how long he had been waiting to tell her, to leave her. But she can't find it in herself to ask. It didn't matter. She finally brushes the back of one hand across her face. Her lips part a little, as if she had something to say, but nothing comes out.
I'm sorry. But if you think about it, you'll realize I'm right. This wasn't going to work. Ever.
Amy looks away again, unable to keep her eyes on him or even formulate a coherent sentence.
I have to go. Still have a lot of things to pack up.

Wyatt gets up and leaves, and Amy just watches from the corner of her eye, refusing to look up, or say anything. When she can't see him in her peripheral vision anymore, she raises her head, but it was too late to even watch him walk out the diner's door. He was gone. Amy runs both her hands over her face, doing her best to brush away the dampness. She was not going to make a spectacle of herself here. A few calming breaths later, she pulls a few dollar bills out of her wallet, leaves them on the table for the two glasses of tea, and starts to leave. Almost forgetting the FedEx envelope, she snatches it up, and stalks out of the diner, stuffs herself into her Jeep, starts the engine, and before she's able to drive off, finally breaks down. She sits there, in the parking lot, behind the tinted windows, and lets the tears come for a minute or two. Catching her breath, she pulls her phone out, and types out a text to the first person that came to mind – the one who tried to tell her this was going to happen, who had this pegged since the night in Japan when she spilled everything to him over a glass of expensive tequila.

<You were right.>
<I was? What about?>
<Wyatt. He's leaving. Left. Me.>
<Dammit... babe, I'm sorry...>


Amy shoves the phone away and drives off, not bothering to respond. She can't handle this. At all. Not even caring who saw her or what they would think, she goes into the little grocery store she used to frequent when she was probably singlehandedly keeping their liquor sales up. And picks up her usual.


[align=center]* * * * *


{{Later that night}}[/align]


The rest of the day and evening was ugly. The kids got home from school, and even though Amy tried to hide it, Jaina at least knew something was wrong, and knew what Amy had done. She called her aunt Bree to come over and do something. Bree showed up, saw Amy's condition, and without asking any questions took the kids to Amy's mom's. When she got back to Amy's though, all bets were off. Amy told her what happened.

Oh... goddammit!
Amy sees something in her face that angers her. “Really? That's all you have to say? No 'oh my God,' or 'what the fuck'? Just that? Wait.... you knew.
Bree doesn't say anything. She can't. Because Amy is right. She did know. Wyatt told her a week ago when he started packing things at home. So she just keeps silent, looking for all the world like she just stabbed her best friend in the back. Because, well, she kinda did.
You did! And you didn't tell me! Bree... how...
I'm sorry... he made me promise.” Amy glares, a mix of anger, hurt, and clouded drunken vision. Bree rubs away a few tears. “He's my brother, I couldn't-
Please leave.
I'm sorry...
Amy just points towards the door, not even looking at her. Bree says nothing else, just quietly walks out.


A few hours later, there is a promised knock at Amy's door. She's been home alone since Bree left hours ago, yet this was one person she wanted to see, and even though he'd said he was on his way, she wasn't sure she believed it until that knock came. She opens the door, a half-filled glass in her hand, and smiles in relief when she sees him on the other side. “You actually came.
“I told you I'd be here. And I am. I got your back, babe. Always.”
He takes the glass from her hand and sets it down out of reach, before pulling her into a hug.


[align=center]* * * * *


{{Thursday, May 26th
Toronto}}
[/align]



Amy is at a gym in Toronto that she is very familiar with. VWA holds most of it's shows here, and she's taken a liking to this particular place over the last two years, and gotten to know the trainers here. There's a room with a practice ring, and they have allowed her use of it this morning. After she checked into her hotel, she came down here looking to work out some frustration, anger, you name it. Taking Hold of the Flame was on the horizon, and Amy couldn't think of a better way to regain some control over her life. She needed this win. She needed to be the last one standing in that ring on Sunday night, because that would award her the chance to face the World Champion – no matter who it was by the end of the night – and take back the one thing she could get back that she had in March when everything had seemed so perfect. It was the only thing that wasn't a lost cause – reclaiming the Word Championship would be her sanity. Her salvation.



[align=center]* * ON CAMERA * *[/align]


In a what looks like a practice ring in a gym, we find Amy Chastaine with an interesting set up. In the ring, are six stand-up heavy bags. Each one has a piece of paper taped to it, but the words written there can't be read as yet. The one all the way to the left seems to have been torn at some point, as there is a long piece of duct tape along the top of it, marring the otherwise smooth, perfect black canvas. Amy herself has a steel chair in the ring, and she unfolds it and sits on it as the camera finishes panning the bags and focuses on her. She's dressed in her typical training gear, black yoga pants, a dark gray sports bra with a loose gray racer-back t-shirt over it, and training shoes, her hair piled up on top of her head, with a few loose strands falling out, most likely from her activity so far. She's obviously been working out today, as her face is a little flushed, and there are a few empty water bottles to be seen in the corner of the ring.

Seated on the chair, Amy seems calm, for now, and folds her arms. No pleasantries today, she jumps right into what's on her mind.


I've heard what some of you have had to say so far about Taking Hold of the Flame, and I have to say that most of it... has been complete garbage. You're all looking at this all wrong.

Just like most of you did for Best of the Best.

I hear everyone talking about beating thirty-nine people. Throwing thirty-nine people over the top rope. Being better than thirty-nine people. And you're all wrong. Does anyone think that Selena Frost is better than sixty-four people? No. Of course not. She beat six people to win that tournament.

All this battle royal is, is a one match Best of the Best. Over the course of the match, forty of us will make it to the ring and do everything we can to be the last one standing at the end. But all of you, each and everyone, are putting way too much pressure on yourselves. See, the way I look at it is... I don't have to beat, toss out, be better than thirty-nine other people.

I just have to beat, eliminate the last one.

Entry order doesn't matter. Elimination order doesn't matter. What matters is... who is that number thirty-nine? Whoever the last person to be eliminated is... you are my biggest target.

Getting to that point won't be easy. I may very well have to eliminate other people to get there. But the most important thing about winning a match like this, is survival.


Amy gets up from the chair, and starts walking around it slowly as she talks, her arms still folded, and ignoring the six bags behind her, for now.

If there is one thing in my life that I know how to do... it's survive. I've been through things in my life that most people would be either dead from, or on several kinds of medication to keep the PTSD at bay. And yet, here I am, still here. I'm not going to try to pretend like all if it has been easy. And I won't pretend like I'm one hundred percent fine, or normal, or even sane. I have been through an abusive husband who nearly killed me... kidnapping... brainwashing... losing people that love to murder, to accidents... so many levels of drunkenness and depression... an accidental overdose that damn near killed me... and those are just the highlights.

Yet.

I am still here. I am still standing. I am a survivor.

All of you can make whatever threats you want. All the promises and vows in the world. All the claims that you are the best in the world, you are the best in this company, you are going to take the Flame. But none of that matters if you don't know how to survive the rest of us who believe the exact same thing about ourselves.

This isn't a wrestling match, people. This is a fight. It's an all out brawl to determine who has the skill, the wit, the endurance to outlast, to survive everyone else and be the last one left when it's all over. I'm not going to stand here and claim that I am better than all thirty-nine of you. That would be ridiculous. Anyone can beat anyone on any given night. My performance in Best of the Best is a testament to that, as it is for a lot of you. What I am going to tell you though, is that I am prepared to do whatever I have to do to make sure that when it comes down to the last few people in that ring, that I am one of them, and that I am the one who makes that final elimination. Number thirty-nine, whoever you will be... You are everything that matters in this match. You are the one person standing between me and what I want. You are the one obstacle keeping me from getting the chance to regain what I lost. You... are the one focus that I have when I get to the ring, and the only thing that matters at all.


Amy finally acknowledges the heavy bags standing in the ring behind her. She walks closer to them, and we now see the pieces of paper taped to them are names. The first one, with the duct tape, reads “Kelcey.” As Amy walks past them, the others can be read. Regan. Syren. Selena. Red Rayne. Shilo.

Amy walks back towards the chair, and leans her hands on the back of it.


As you can see, I have a bit of a demonstration set up here behind me. That number thirty-nine I'm talking about? The last person who will be trying to stop me from getting what I want? I hope it's one of you.

I'll start with the most recent thorn in my side, Shilo. I don't think there's really much else I can say about you that you haven't shown to the world already. Twice now you have made it clear that you know you can't beat me, that you know you're not up to par with the rest of us, by taking the easy way out. You don't look intimidating. You certainly don't scare me. Oh, and before you ask.. my back and shoulder are fine now. But that's more than I can say for your chances on Sunday. Just remember, Shilo... you can't win a battle royal with a chair shot. You might take people out that way, prevent them from winning. But if you can't beat that last person and be the last one left.... you can't win.


Red Rayne. The number one entry to the match. How is that for a test of survival? You're tough, Red. I know. I've faced you more than once, and I haven't bested you. Yet. But bear this in mind.. you may have pinned me before, you may have pinned most of the people in this match before. But that isn't going to help you Sunday night. You, Red, have the greatest challenge of us all. You are the one who has to literally outlast thirty-nine other people to get what you want, what you have been screaming and scheming for months that you rightly deserve. And maybe you do deserve a chance to fight for the World Championship. You did make history as the Adrenaline Champion, after all, breaking the longest reign record. But this just isn't your time, Red. There are too many of us who want to deny you what you want, and as the number one entry you will have the biggest target on your back. It's likely that you won't even still be in the ring when I get there. But if you are... and if you happen to make it to near the end... I will be the one who stops you.

Selena. My my, the things you have been up to lately. Fighting with Regan. Making nice with vapid bitches and serial rapists alike. It's almost like you've forgotten the kind of person you're supposed to be. You keep saying you don't want a shot at the World Championship. That you think that belongs to Regan alone. Yet... you entered this match. If you didn't want the chance, why did you bother to take a spot that could have gone to someone else, who actually wants the chance? Could it be that.... you're a lying, hypocritical, egotistical sad sack of shit? I don't mean talent-wise, by the way. Obviously you have that. You've beaten me twice – not three times, as you like to claim. You can point to the record of that six-person tag all you want, but you didn't pin me in that match, so it doesn't count. But, you did beat me twice. You did beat Regan once, and won Best of the Best. But that won't be good enough. You can't win this by pinfall. You can't win this by submission. You can only win this by not getting eliminated. You make far too many mistakes to be able to survive this, Selena. And if that magical number thirty-nine is you.... I'll send you flying over that top rope faster than you can scream your catchphrase.

That brings me to you, Syren. Everyone knows, especially me, that you have the endurance to outlast everyone in this match. We fought for forty minutes almost two months ago, and you came out on top. I am not going to deny that you bested me then, and I am not going to stand here and say that you don't deserve a rematch, just like I feel I deserve one. But this is a different situation. This isn't about rematch clauses and who deserves what. This is about who wants it more, who can be the one to survive everything and everyone else. Who can handle watching the chaos going on and keep their head straight enough to focus and not get lost in the details. Can you do that, Syren? I'm not sure that you can. You'll be concerned about your wife's chances. Her match later in the night. You have too much going on in your head. And if it comes down to you and me, well... the end result will not be the same as before.

Regan.... I have said everything I can ever say to you or about you, so I will just leave it at this for you.... I've beaten you three times already. There is no doubt in my mind that if this ends with you and me... Sunday night will be the fourth.


And finally. Kelcey. I'm not even going to speak to you. You don't listen. You only hear what you want to hear. So...


And with that. Amy rushes to the heavy bag with the duct tape and Kelcey's name on it, and superkicks it HARD. It flies over the top rope. On impact with the ground, the rip busts open and sand spills all over the floor. She then kicks the other five sending them all over the ropes, too. "Shilo" lands in a pile of chairs, knocking them all over.

Amy has no more words. She just stands there, her back to the camera, breathing heavily as the shot fades out.

-------------

OOC: Coding edits, and added the article link that I forgot.
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