The Ballad of JayBird and SareBear, Part III: MINE
Sept 23, 2017 15:10:34 GMT -5
Eden Morgan likes this
Post by Deleted on Sept 23, 2017 15:10:34 GMT -5
~~January 1st, 2010~~
Dearest Diary,
I love my birthday!
The entire compound comes together on Happy Sarah Day! Of course, if they DIDN’T drop to their knees in reverence before my beauty, I would whip the FUCK out of them with father’s self-flagellation whip. Sometimes I wish they really would just do something dumb like that. I LOVE whipping servants and commoners. And they LOVE getting whipped. Just ask them!
I got TONS of cool gifts. Auntie Nico got me this KILLER necklace. It's got this little vial inside of it and Auntie Nico joked that you could totally put someone’s blood in it. People like to say that Auntie Nico is a vampire, but that’s just silly. She’s just a Japanese girl from Canada! They NEVER get sun there!
Godfather sang me a song. He said it came out the year before I was born and that he liked to sing it with Mother. It seemed pretty cool. Something about what you would do if I left the world alive, which doesn’t make much sense. Like, none of us leave the world alive, right? Weird. But then, Godfather is weird. I wonder what it would sound like played on the piano?
Father gave me the most WONDERFUL GIFT! He is letting me subscribe to Nikita Dolore’s fan club! He knows that she is totally my favorite wrestler, besides him, of course, and they kinda-sorta know each other. So, I get to sign up and make my own screen name and everything! What should I call myself? Maybe something about my spirit animal, Twilight Sparkle? Hmmmmm...I’ll think about it.
Oh! Oh! I can’t believe I haven’t mentioned this!
OMG!
JayBird kissed me!
OMG!
It was SOOOO romantic! We were walking around and holding hands, right? And sure, there were guards EVERYWHERE (...gotta think of a way to get rid of them silently…), but he snuck us into a small part of the forest. I was a little worried, what with the giant spiders and all, but JayBird was SO BRAVE! He held me close and I felt safe in his arms.
I really mean that, Diary.
I felt warm and safe when he held me.
We stopped under a tree and he gave me his present. A ring. A very pretty ring. A firebird in flight. His SareBear in flight.
And then he kissed me.
It wasn’t weird, like I thought it would be. Okay, it was KINDA weird. And wet. And hot. But in a good way. And I won’t lie: I REALLY liked it. I think I will be kissing him a LOT in the future.
And then we walked back out of the forest and snuck back in the middle of the guards, just like we were never gone. They didn’t even notice! It was like we were ninjas, or something. Hmmm...I wonder if ninja could be a verb?
Anyway, this day was MAGICAL!
Write to you later!
Presenting the Lacklan Saga Story of:
The Ballad of SareBear and JayBird, Part III
MINE
~Blind Fall~
A staple of “trust” exercises, one person closed their eyes and fell backward, with the intention of the other three catching them.
Unfortunately for the purposes of this exercise, everyone seemed to forget that they were WRESTLERS, which meant a natural tendency to let someone take “a back bump,” whatever that is. Both Kenzi and Sarah performed admirably with one another, but Jet let Jase crash to the floor while “checking a message from Sherri,” and Jase later let Jet fall to the floor because “he needed to stretch.”
Teamwork Quality Points gained from exercise: 11
Overall Teamwork Quality Rating: 11/100
~Chicken Wing eating contest~
Overseen by Sarah’s “obese Godfather Dexter,” the chicken wings, unfortunately, only came in the one traditional buffalo style. Kenzie complained about it not actually being fried chicken, and Sarah refused to participate since it was not oven roasted chicken breast with NOTHING ON IT BECAUSE BODYBUILDER. Therefore, it was up to Jet and Jase to save the team, and the two flew into the battle with much aplomb. And while there was good-natured competitiveness, which was in NO WAY spurred on by hurt feelings over the Blind Fall exercise, they eventually both slowed down and wisely called it a draw before they both hurled.
Teamwork Quality Points gained from exercise: 7
Overall Teamwork Quality Rating: 18/100
~Sudden Death Air Guitar~
They. Fucking. Rocked.
Griff Hawkins himself wept at even the merest suggestion of how awesome they were. Sarah on imaginary keys with a microphone, Kenzi leading up front. Jet on the lead, Jase on the base.
They played EVERYTHING.
Green Day.
Metallica.
Nirvana.
Swift. Because Look What You Made Me Do is fucking LIT!
Teamwork Quality Points gained from exercise: 35 (scoreboard, baby!)
Overall Teamwork Quality Rating: 53/100
~Back to back drawing~
Violation!
The intention here was for the four of them to sit back to back, with partners rotating, with one person having an object in their hands and giving the OTHER person verbal instructions on how to draw it. The drawing partner, unable to see the object, had to go by the other person’s verbal instructions ONLY. And while they went through six rounds, or two full rotations, the same thing happened again and again:
All of them kept drawing boobs.
Because everyone likes boobs.
So while they all showed extreme teamwork, the complete and utter failure in the actual task at hand brought things down low with a massive penalty.
Teamwork Quality Points gained from exercise: 3
Overall Teamwork Quality Rating: 56/100
~Trivial Pursuit~
This was...interesting. Everyone was actually reasonably intelligent, with Sarah’s annoyingly perfect private tutor-driven private school education filling her wedges pretty damned fast, she could NOT get the last damned question for the win. Again and again she failed, and this allowed everyone to catch up, and eventually for Jase to pull out the victory by answering what year did Bambi come out. Lord knows the why or how of Jase knowing release dates for animated Disney films, but there it is.
Teamwork Quality Points gained from exercise: 16
Overall Teamwork Quality Rating: 72/100
~Team Monopoly~
BAD IDEA.
First of all, NO ONE has time to play Monopoly in 2017. NO ONE. Luckily for Team Kickass Squared, several days AFTER Outlast, the four of them grabbed some funyuns and a case of diet chocolate soda and loaded up the Team Kickass Tardis and travelled back in time to finish the game they started.
It took 17 hours.
Truth be told, they probably should have stopped once Sarah started to ask for plucked hair in exchange for money whenever anyone landed on her Boardwalk Hotel. What was she going to do with all that hair? And how DID Jet keep landing on both Park Place AND Boardwalk EVERY TIME?! It was mathematically impossible, but before he knew it, Sarah was close to convincing him to sell one of his kidneys to an unnamed “doctor.” Thankfully, Milisandre, a fellow “Cook Kid” with Kenzi and Sarah, “accidentally” knocked over the game board.
Man, Mil uses a lot of air quotes.
Teamwork Quality Points gained from exercise: -12 (Yes, NEGATIVE!)
Overall Teamwork Quality Rating: 60/100
~Puzzle building~
HOME FREAKIN’ RUN!
EVEN BETTER THAN AIR GUITAR!
For whatever reason, all four set to the puzzles like a well-oiled machine. Was it the gentle building of their teamwork over time? Was it the combination of methodical logic and manic creativity needed for complex puzzles? Was is the fact that they were fuckin’ STARVED and wanted to get to lunch already?
Regardless of the reason, the four DEMOLISH the puzzles. It started easy, with a 250-piece puzzle, but then they floated through them all as if a child drifting through clouds in a dream. Jet found the edges, Jase organized the center, Kenzi put them in place, Sarah threatened to whip them if they made a mistake. A look from Kenzi to Jet and Jase about the validity of Sarah’s claim told them all they needed to know: She WOULD whip them.
No puzzle was too grand or difficult. Landscapes. Still-lifes. The new “How Protected IS Sam Tolson?” puzzle from the Pollock collection.
If Jet is right, and the reality of the way Outlast has come together truly is a matter of mazes and puzzles, then Teak Kickass Squared was uniquely equipped to win.
Teamwork Quality Points gained from exercise: 40 (Max score!)
Overall Teamwork Quality Rating: 100/100
I pause before the door. The wide double doors. I had seen them many times as a child...and as a teenager...but only once or twice as an adult. I pause...and shake...oh, how I shake…
The need…
The need to take what is mine…
I need strength. Or at least...what...serenity? Calmness?
I reach into my jacket, my standard issue black jacket with the silver pins, and pull out the vial. I pour the red powder onto my gloved hand. I snort the DRIVE like it is nothing, I feel it course through my system like it is an old friend.
In a way, it is.
I salute the guards before the door, and they salute me. Each of us raises a clenched fist and slams it to the left side of our chest, just as The Master teaches. I walk between them and push open the doors.
And there, sitting at her desk, is what belongs to ME.
MINE!
She is as beautiful now as she has ever been. The pale skin. The bright hair. The eyes. Oh...the eyes! My albino. My heart.
My SareBear.
She looks up as I enter and she smiles at me. Fuck...oh fuck…
MINE!
I feel myself shake as I walk toward her. She is dressed as she has been wont to do while at home in the Manor. Not an inch of skin below her face is seen, even the collar of her dark grey gown riding up to her chin. Not much makeup. That makes me happy. I never have liked the wings.
My SareBear doesn’t need fake wings to fly.
She uses sign language to send the other two guards away. I helped her make up that sign language. Over the years. Years and years. Started with just a few gestures, and now it is as complicated as everything else about her.
Why isn’t it simple?
Why isn’t she mine?
MINE!
She comes from around the table after the guards leave, her arms open for a hug. For an embrace. I shake...I shake...because I know what she NEEDS. And what she secretly WANTS.
CRAVES.
I hear her say my name...my name...the name she knows me by.
JayBird.
How long ago we started calling each other that. Before we kissed the first time. Before we started fucking. Before I started training. Before…
So long before…
HER.
MINE!
We embrace. We have not hugged since...since...they day she cast me out from Hollywood. Why? WHY?! I DID MY JOB, SAREBEAR!
I DID MY JOB FOR YOU!
I WAS YOUR MOLE!
I shake as I hold her. I feel her stiffen. She knows something is wrong. She knows me too well. She pulls back, a look of concern on her face as she looks back up at me.
Her lips part to ask if I am okay.
Those likes.
MINE!
I attack. I lean down and press my lips against hers. Just like so many times throughout the years. This is different. She fights. She used to give as well as she got. But this is different. She squeals. She pushes. I pull away before she can bite off my tongue.
Her hand slapping across my face feels like a wall of molten brick.
She yells at me. What am I doing? What has gotten into me? How dare I? She is a married woman.
A...married...woman…
Married.
To the nigger bitch.
I take what is mine.
MINE!
How dare SHE? How DARE she treat me this way? How DARE she throw me to the side after all these years of service, friendship, and love. I was supposed to be her KING, GODDAMNIT
MINE!
My questions receive no answer. No answer worth hearing, anyway. Things change...hearts change...people move on…
She’s gay.
Bullshit.
MINE!
Her eyes widen as I take her to the ground. I know what she NEEDS. I know what she secretly WANTS. CRAVES.
It has been so long since I took what was MINE.
Time to change that.
She fights me. She screams out for help, but we both know that her message to the other guards was to go take lunch. She has nothing to fear from her JayBird.
I like how she fights.
This...this...feels good.
Right.
I shudder as I hear her dress tear. I have one hand on her chin, holding down her head, as the other pulls at the tear in the fabric. I shudder more as it tears further.
She fights, but she cannot win. She is an athlete, perhaps even world class, but I am far larger. Not as large as Bruce or the Master, but still larger. Years watching her lift with Lord Lacklan...years learning Lord Lacklan’s lessons through observation.
Lord Lacklan would have loved me as a son-in-law.
I deserve to be king.
I deserve to take my queen.
MINE!
I scream as she bites down on my finger. I was careless, too focused on her dress. It feels like my finger is severed. The infamous bite from the Vampire of Lacklanland. I have no choice, I have to give up my position. I have to find something to wrap my hand in.
The dress. Fabric ripped away from the body of my queen. Hand wrapped, red droplets falling to the ground.
I turn to see her running, the pale muscles of her ass flexing, free to see because of the ruined dress. I always wanted to fuck that ass. She never let me, never let anyone. I think I will, if I can get away from here. That ass is mine.
MINE!
I sneak out through a side door. I know the Manor as well as she.
I will get what is mine.
Eventually.
It was always cold in Lacklanland. Such was the life of anyone within Maine. Rain, winds, the occasional Lacklan Mistral screaming through as if the banshee of Irish lore. The colors were always bright, though, due to that weather, with many shades of green and the bright blue, white, and purple pop of the state’s blueberries. But the sea of black stood out and up against the bright colors of a dying summer and emerging fall, railed against the turning and falling of leaves. The sea of black heeded the call of their Mistress, heeded the call of the siren on the rocks.
They heeded the call of their Queen.
The denizens filled the square before the Manor until it was bursting. The square was built for 500 bodies, for the concerns of not just those that lived under the Light of Jean-Paul Lacklan but also for those coming and going for commerce or politics. But this message, the message that had spread throughout the week, was not about dealing with Bangor or the border check. The message was not about the curious rumors of illegal campaign contributions and legislation that made the land owned by the Lacklan family sovereign. No, this message, the message that pulled in outsiders into the square to be with the denizens, to be squeezed in tight, was one of raising the fist. Was one of bowing to the Queen of Red. Was one of being alive.
“Do not let the world crush your dreams!”
Their monarch, the Red Queen of Lacklanland, stood high on a platform halfway up Selena’s Spire. The tower attached to the Manor reached high into the air, the tallest peak within the borders of Lacklanland, named after the departed Great Mother, built to be a lasting devotion to the woman who gave birth to their future queen and then left to stand by God’s side. The tower reached upward, ever in search of Selena’s hand, ever grasping for her touch.
“Do not allow your detractors to have sway over your heart! It is the One Lord God’s wish that you achieve your successes through His grace! Do not let your detractors, conned by the forked tongue of the Enemy, keep you away from His word and His grace. Embrace Him and you shall embrace success!”
Her voice was amplified by the microphone she spoke into, but none truly needed it. Her words flew over them, surrounded them, filled them, like the waters of the Great Flood, and cleansed away their worries. The warm blanket of serenity emitted from the Red Queen was like manna to the Jews in the desert; always there, always enough, always ready. And given by a loving hand. The broke spiritual fast with that manna, fulfilled their lives with her spirit.
“WE will endure all attacks against us and return the injury tenfold! WE will never be taken down by those detractors! WE will never face odds that we cannot overcome with the His grace flowing through us. WE shall, as we always have, and shall forevermore, be VICTORIOUS!”
From far below her, it is hard for the denizens to see her face, but everyone knows that face well. They know the pale skin and platinum hair of albinism, even the extremely rare eyes that glow red in the light. The red against black, no doubt the heavy eyeliner wings she is known to have painted on her face, clearly shows those eyes to those who know her. Her dress, a high-necked down with a wide white collar with sharp points, is a deep red that glitters, tiny specks of what could only be the dust of diamonds catching the light as she sways back and forth on the stage.
“I made a promise to all of you last year that not only would I follow my father’s path of becoming a wrestler, of being a person in the spotlight of the material world so that I could lead that world to the spiritual, but that I also would match Father’s accomplishments. And I have! Despite failed attempts, those moments of humility that God has so wisely bestowed upon me, I have stood at the side of my beloved wife and become a champion. And now...NOW...this weekend, I am again joined by my wife in an attempt to become the champion of a company quickly becoming a second home, of a company with wide exposure, who is just bursting with the need of the salvation we bring.”
At the mention of her wife, eyes turn to the Red Queen’s side, where there are several people seated in place of honor. The brunette that has been attached to the hip of the Red Queen the last few weeks, as well as the two men who had been guests for the past few days, but most eyes are drawn to the Black Queen. While they stood eye-to-eye in height, she was as physically different from the Red Queen as was possible. Caramel skin, a head full of braids that fell to her waist, and dark eyes. There had only been one African American family in Lacklanland since its founding, and they had moved away a decade or more ago, and even after nine months of exposure, she was still somewhat of a jarring sight. Eyes are brought back to the Red Queen as she waves towards the people sitting in the places of honor, even giving them a smile.
“In but a few days, I walk into battle with the people you see before you, people that I have chosen with my own hand, because I know the devastation which we can bring to bear. All champions, former and current, all great warriors who will stand at my side as I face the dreaded Lucy Wylde.”
She pauses and there is a hush among the crowd. There was a touch of reverence in that name.
“I have made no questions or wonders as to why I am in the Coalition. Lucy is powerful, seductive, intelligent, successful. She has things that I want, and not just the title around her waist. She has the backing of her peers, even if she does still consider herself to be an outsider, and respect within the business. I want that. I crave it. And it shall be mine.
“I chose wisely when I used my WrestleStock Cup win to get a match for her Cross-Hemisphere championship. Her fire and strength allowed her to be better than me, superior to me, for three seconds, but I promise the world, I promise all of you, dear denizens and minions, that it was only for that three seconds. After all, it is not I who spent the night in the hospital. It is not I who needed assistance out of the arena. It is not I would ended up crumpled in a heap after our match. Yes, she was better for three seconds. I will never hide from that, never take away her victory with revisionist histories as so many do in this business, but the future is a wholly different story. I SHALL take what is hers and make it MINE.
“And just as I have done, she has drafted a team of individuals to aid her in battle. Mind you, this is not some cartoon from before I was born. I am not Magneto and she not Xavier, there is no opening credits where our teams square off against their conceptual opposites as guitars riff. No, this is no jest or joke. This is not Civil War. This is a team competition, and it is well-documented as to how successful I am in team-based competition within this business.”
She pauses for a moment, and the people down below, those with acute sight, can see her smirk.
“It is interesting to note how the supposed outsider drafted her own outsider in JC. He and I do not know each other, not in any real sense, other than seeing a name now and again. But I know well what it is like to stop foot into the Coalition as someone that people know little about. I know well the pressures of having to represent yourself with no support, either in the locker room or management, and need to succeed. After all, that is precisely what I have done, yes? Company after company, locker room after locker room, without a soul to be seen other than my lovely bride at my side. I have dominated wherever I have gone. JC on the other hand? Well...I cannot say for his entire career...I cannot say over the landscape of a lifetime...but I can say this: Stephen King quotes will not defeat me. Song lyrics will not pin me. Needing to find inspiration in your superiors for your own work will not compete with me. And, certainly, a six and five record over in Carnage will not triumph over me.”
She pauses for a moment, reflecting.
“Many eyebrows were raised when Lucy chose Mister Baal. The champion himself. My own research, my own tape, has shown me that the champion being in both the team and individual aspects of the Outlast tournament is not without precedent, but I am still somewhat surprised. After all, one must wonder where their heads are considering their...allegiances.
“I told him from the first moment that I saw him. I saw him for who and what he was. Snake for snake. And you would figure that, at some point, Lucy would have listened to me. She is adept at understanding my words, far more than most in this business, but she did not see what I was saying in regards to Baal. Or perhaps she chose to ignore it? Raging loins may well have that effect, I suppose. Ignore the truth in your face for the falsehood in your dreams.
“But I see him. I understand him. And I believe that his inclusion in this tournament is a mistake that I shall prey upon. He himself has already seen that power and influence I bring to team matches. He himself has already had to sit back and watch as I choked the life out of Lucy. He had to watch, limp and flaccid, as the light left her eyes and she floated down into the Abyss. That moment was enjoyable, and I look forward to repeating that scenario, if I can. I look forward to putting her away...while the champion watches…
“And does nothing.”
She pauses.
“I wonder...did Baal do that on purpose? Did he ALLOW Lucy to be taken away? Did he, false concern plastered on his face, actually grin on the inside? Did he use that image, that of his toy being choked out by a genetically superior being, later in the bedchambers of Eden? I wonder. Baal plays a game of innuendo and misplaced trust...I wonder.
“And regardless of the hows and whys of the situation, I shall indeed take advantage of the champion’s fatigue. Just as he and Lucy lost to Donovan Hastings and I, they will lose to the team assembled before you. And we shall, all four of us, go on to be a part of the main event. And, along with the survivors of the other teams, he shall be forced to fight man after man, woman after woman, the bloody fish in an ocean of sharks. And this shark plans on feasting well that night.
“Of course, Lucy’s first pick was Magdalena. And truth be told...and this is a little secret for me to share...she was mine, too.”
A soft murmur comes from the crowd at this revelation.
“My beautiful wife was always my anchor, always my surprise final draft, but Magdalena was my first. She recently spoke of how we always seem to run into each other in the youth of our careers, no matter where we go. And that we...well...were born to fight each other.”
She pauses.
“Perhaps.”
She pauses. If people could see her clearly, the would see her eyes glaze over a little, her mind lost in thought.
“...my Swing…”
With an abrupt shake of her head, she continues.
“Lucy places much faith in Magdalena. That faith is not misplaced. She and I have an affinity for smashing into each other and I look forward to doing it again. Oddly enough, she and I could very well be locking our horns into one another twice that day. I wonder if she needs a ride? Our Tardis has room for one more.”
There is a small giggle from the crowd over the infamous tendency of their queens to hit the road hard.
“But Magdalena will not be enough for Lucy to survive, to outlast. I shall admit that she and I are evenly matched, but the unity of my team far eclipses theirs. Both Mister Somers and Mister Ingalls slipped into Team Kickass as if they had always belonged, as if our blanket of warmth was their own comforter. But Lucy’s? Magdalena has yet to find her identity or way within the company, other than her intentions of facing me. JC is an outsider who, unlike myself when I was in the role, has no momentum whatsoever. And Baal is as much her enemy as her friend.
“I almost pity Lucy for her dreams being crushed. I almost pity what is going to happen. For while I crave what she has, while I want to rip it from her, reality is that I may well surpass her on Monday. We may way outlast her team and then send Baal into the Abyss and become the champion of the entire Coalition. What irony that would be...for the WrestleStock Cup winner to fail in her cash-in...yet be the world champion just a few weeks later.”
Sarah offers a giggle, a sound not often heard from atop the stage on Selena’s Spire.
“Either way, the banner of the revolution is raise. The red...the black...RAISE THE FIST!”
Without question or hesitation, the three hundred members of the compound raise a clenched fist into the air, along with nearly half of the others.
Sarah Lacklan looks down at her people, down at those who firmly believed that she was God’s reckoning on Earth, and laughed.
It was time to build some more houses.
~~FIN~~
