Post by LACKLAN on May 18, 2018 8:16:02 GMT -5
~~Monday, May 14th, 2018~~
Destruction.
Carnage.
Wreckage.
These are the words which spring to mind as the Circle Television Network camera crew moves around the ring in the Synergy Arena. The fans are gone, with the arena crew moving through the seats with their large plastic bags for trash, and the rig crew breaking down the UGWC logos and hardware, but what is left of the ring has thus far been untouched. Shards of a shattered wooden table. Multiple chairs, some mangled to the point of being ready for the scrap heap. A baseball bat. The barricade and floor mats ripped clean away. The steel steps on their side.
And blood.
Blood everywhere.
There are those who do not quite understand why Le Bord de Dieu is included in CTN’s newest reality show, “Keep Up With the Cool Kids,” including the woman herself, but the scene of pain being recorded by the camera offers a moment of clarity: Everything Bordy touches is raw. Is real. Interactions with the real world, from the airport to restaurants to the UGWC offices, which go from the words of an angel to the screams of a devil in moments and without notice. Constant mockery of those around her, both blatant and subtle. Washing the feet of the homeless and offering them shelter in times of trouble while also living in what is nothing more than a nearly condemned warehouse. Friendless, loveless, utterly devoted to a dead husband, and vile in her dealings with anyone who does not believe what she believes.
Le Bord de Dieu is the dichotomy of what professional wrestling is. Both real and fake. Both gritty and sensational. Which means that she, regardless of how some people might feel about it, makes for excellent television.
The camera zooms in on what is left of the table on the outside of the ring. It was as much shards and dust as it was a table, with only even one of the legs still attached to part of the base, and the camera picks up the smears of red. The move which truly ended the match, a bit of desperate improvisation from Bordy which sent both her and Kem Dynamo from the top rope and to the outside, had forced the crowd to become beside themselves, and had sent the blood of the competitors flying. Other camera crews from CTN’s reality show were filming the fans in the lobby and outside the building, headed to whatever late-night eatery they could find, and were catching their reactions and impressions. And in a night filled with debuts of new talent and a Court dominance which featured Lockheart’s impressive win streak stopped and Vaughn’s face covered in ink, the explosion of wood and blood is what was spoke of most.
The camera moves its way away from the ring and down the aisle, where a trail of blood leads up and away. After the match, Bordy had pushed away the trainers and limped her way to the back, the Chaos Championship hoisted across her right shoulder, until she had collapsed in the office set up for the trainers. The camera finds Bordy now, still being fussed over by the resident doctor as his staff. Bordy lays on an examination table, her eyes shut, her body limp. Her brown hair is filled with blood, the grey streaks popping bright pink in comparison, as one of the nurses uses needle and thread to stitch the gash across her forehead.
“How do you feel?”
The camera crew knew it was a dumb question, but they had a job to do. They could see Bordy grit her teeth and could here the annoyance in her groan.
“How do you think I feel?”
The Frenchwoman’s thick accent was particularly nasally in her current position, with one nurse at her head and another taking various vitals.
“Kem and I went to war. And that...CHILD...thought it would be funny to sandwich my head in steel. But it was not enough. No...no...not enough.”
The camera zooms in on the laceration on her forehead being sticked, the result of the referenced offensive maneuver from Dynamo, first the slam atop the steps which cut open the champion, and then the following chair to the back of the head. She nurse was up to six stitches with more to go.
“Not only did I promise...I prothesized. And I delivered. I am the Champion of Chaos. And once again, the entire BUSINESS understands that I am the standard in this company. And not even what might as well have been a 3-on-1 handicap match can show otherwise. Payne. Necron. Dynamo. The first three of what will be many...many...names who cannot and will not dethrone me as the Champion of Chaos.”
Silence falls as the nurse finishes her duty, pulling tight on the threads and snipping the end with a tiny set of scissors. The second nurse reaches up and places a bandage over the stitches before the two move off to the side to confer with the doctor.
“The booking sheet was released. Have you heard about who you face next week?”
Bordy gives them a small shake of her head, her eyes still closed, and her face contorted in pain from that small movement. It would likely be a few days before she could move her head well.
“Singles match. Zane.”
Silence falls, broken only by a long exhale of breath from the prone Frenchwoman.
“...only a matter of time…”
She opens her eyes but then immediately closes them, the dark green irises only seen for a moment. She groans again, the light no doubt painful for the head which very well may have been concussed. Again.
“Something I mentioned to Dynamo is that I am the only person across this entire year thus far who has yet to miss a show in UGWC. I am the only one who has fought the grind every time, without question or fail, and provided both a promotional video and a match. As such, it is only a matter of time until I fight those who are the faces of this company. It was only a matter of time until I fought Lucy Wylde last week. It will only be a matter of time until I face more members of the Court. It was only a matter of time until I fought the man who was the TRUE face of this company when I arrived. And unfortunately for him, it was only a matter of time until he faced the TRUE face of the company today.”
She opens her eyes slowly this time, from closed to slits, until she could stand the light. She sits up, her body moving as slow as her eyelids before it, until she is sitting erect and facing the camera.
“Something that I have found interesting in my time studying this company is how, at the end of 2017, the Court ruled all. Attack after attack, always veiled in mystery of the masks until the reveal on their own time. But their hubris allowed Hastings to become champion at year’s end, and instead of learning their lesson through Christ’s Mass, they continued to be blinded by their own self-importance and allowed Zane to become the first ever triple champion. Chaos. Co-Op. And at Infinity, in the Global Challenge, World.”
She shakes her head, the hair weighed down by blood slapping onto her back.
“But Zane has found himself a victim of his own success since that night in February. His night of dominance at Infinity has found him only finite success and infinite troubles. Squabbles, useless squabbles, with the likes of Deimos and Rydell have lead him to lose the Chaos championship, which ultimately found itself in the hands of its rightful owner. His reliance on Donovan, who would rather spend his time getting in petty arguments with the Court, not to mention committing the unforgivable crime of having the WORST set of pick-up lines for a happily married woman in the long history of courtship, left him alone when he needed a partner, and away went his team titles. And then finally, those squabbles with Deimos and Rydell ultimately left him vulnerable to the ascension of Wylde, which left him in the unfortunate position of being on the wrong side of history.”
Another slow shake of her head. She looks down at the Chaos Championship title sitting next to her on an end table and picks it up. She folds the leather straps behind the gold plate and hefts it in her hands, feeling the weight.
“Since his victory in the Challenge, Zane has been left behind. Just as I said of Rydell several weeks ago, this company is now in a world of a new breed of wrestler, the kind who flies across the world without a care or worry of their bodies, inside or out, and fights several times a week. More faces have come into the UGWC in the last year than at any other time in it’s long existence, perhaps even going back to the days before Lock and Global Impact came together. And in that rush of fresh competition, Zane has found himself employing that dreaded recipe of ‘same shit, different day’ that I have mentioned recently. Wylde’s quality allowed her ‘SSDD’ to be successful, if bland. Dynamo, who is young enough to know better, employed that mixture and failed. And Zane, as much as I may well like his sharp face when he shaves, has had his own brand of SSDD be his undoing.”
She looks up from the title belt and back to the camera.
“Ever since that truly magnificent performs in February, Zane has only won two matches. He has competed in plenty of them. But only won two. A champion, a face of a company, cannot walk out to the ring ten times in twelve events and come up with two wins. That is failure, no matter the temporary status of Triple Champion. And in that time, in what has become a true dirth of victory, the Court have surged back into prominence. In that sea of mediocrity he has allowed himself to inhabit, sharks such as myself have circled. And he has found himself alone, clutching to a discarded piece of flotsam, desperate to keep his head above water, flailing in what has become a pitiful attempt to stay afloat.”
She gives another shake of her head, the countenance of her sharp face clearly sad, the mat of worry lines at the corners of her eyes tightening.
“I do not look forward to what I am going to do to Zane. I like Zane. Well, as much as I like anyone, I suppose. But I will do what I must for God’s vision of wrestling. I will do what I have to do to fulfil my manifest destiny. Because this match is not about titles. It is not about being the Champion of Chaos. It is about momentum. It is about going into the Melee as THE person who the entire world is looking at. And if that person is Zane? If that person is the man who held the world in his hand and then let it all slip away in such a powerful and publicized way, then I will have failed in my mission for God. I will have failed in what He wants from me.
“So, I will NOT allow Zane to walk into the Melee as the face of the company. I will NOT Zane to be looked at as the favorite to earn the World Title match at WrestleStock, or even to be considered ONE of the favorites. I will NOT allow his rapid decline, what very well might be a self-destruction of Sativa Nevaeh or Vossler levels, to be what goes into the Melee as a shining example of what this company is about.
“Instead, while I do not wish to on a personal level, I will break him next Monday. Because while Wylde may be World Champion, and very deserving one, at that, I am the face of this company. I am the person who, without fail, produces every week. I am the one who, without fail, pushes and presses the competition, from the first event of the year when no one knew who I was, all the way until just a few moments ago, when I AGAIN walked out of Synergy as the name on everyone’s lip. When I AGAIN upstaged the entire roster. When I AGAIN showed why being the Champion of Chaos is IMPORTANT. When I AGAIN showed that my Champion of Chaos title is more meaningful than the Cross-Hemisphere and Co-Op championships COMBINED.”
She pauses again, taking a moment to lick her lips, and looks down at the title in her lap. Her face is haggard, weary, the strain of battle clear in her entire countenance.
“The world is not ready for me. Zane is not ready. And he will have to pay for that. But until then? Until this time next week?”
She leans back against the table, reclining until she is comfortable, and closes her eyes as she clutches the Chaos title to her breast.
“Until then...I rest. No silliness online. No annoyance. I leave that for the children.”
And with that, the CTN camera crew allowed her to rest.
~~December, 2013~~
“If anyone sees any reason why these two should not be wed, speak now, or forever hold their peace.”
Yeah, I should REALLY say something. Like, REALLY. But...well…
Okay, lets back up and tell an exhaustively detailed story because that’s what gets all of your rocks off, ya? Like, lets make it full of deets like hair color and what comic book all the people involved enjoy and their shitty relationships with their dad and world-changing terrorist attacks that everyone no-sells and, like, a dude who wears 17 different masks and rips off a line from a movie starring a fat Tom Hanks that hasn’t come out yet, because that is what sells, ya?
Naw, fuck that shit. NOBODY cares about that stuff. Everyone just hits fast forward or goes all CTRL+F and goes to where their own name is, right? Its what I do! But you know what people DO care about?
Me.
For those living under a rock the last few years, my name is Tragik……..THE MAGNIFICEEEEEEEEEENT! That’s right, your Captain of the Oceans of Sexy, the Sexiest Wrestling Journalist of ALL Time, Mayor of Orgasmtown, and the writer of the wrestling articles which make at LEAST half the world sing, is here to talk to you about something. And that something is pretty big. And I’m NOT just talking about what’s between my legs.
Hello, Ladies.
But enough about how sexy I am and how I’m going to get laid AT LEAST three times before this thing is over. This is about the fuckin’ TRAIN WRECK that is happening in front of me. See, along with my SUPERIOR skills as a column-writing, panty-dropping wrestling journalist, I also do a lot of work with this rich wrestler dude taking pictures and stuff. Now, it is a LOOOOOONG story of how I got employed by the dude, and that’s a story filled with regret, and betrayal, and life-shattering backstory, which means no one cares (see above), but the important thing is that I work for the dude, right? And we’ve grown close over the years, mostly because I went to school with his baby mama, but that was a LONG time ago. These days, this dude is shacking up with this SMOKIN’ HAWT chick named Ava who, God-willing, will let me lick her boots someday. But, holy hell, they are getting married! Married! What a mistake!
Listen, I don’t begrudge the guy outright. I mean, just LOOK at that rack of hers! Its all bunched up in the, lets face it, sexy-as-fuck black and gold dress, and she looks like a total queen (the GOOD kind, mind you, and NOT the one I’m standing next to; more on that later), but Ava is legit crazy. I mean, I’m sure the ugly-bumping has to be awesome, since she seems the kind of girl that would be up for just about anything, but I think bossman is making a bad play here. At least he-
“MAY THE SCHWARTZ BE WITH YOU!”
Hold on, getting a text. Lemme bust out my Tragikphone 1.3 and check it out.
PrincessTwilightSexyFang: OMG I HATE HER SO MUCH
Huh. What’s up with Fangs today?
SexyTragikIsSexy: ‘Sup, short stuff?
“MAY THE SCHWARTZ BE WITH YOU!”
PrincessTwilightSexyFang: AVA! She won’t stop giving me shit! OMG I’M GONNA DIE
SexyTragikIsSexy: For what?
“MAY THE SCHWARTZ BE WITH YOU!”
PrincessTwilightSexyFang: Everything! Obvs! She caught me in the servants quarters with a few of the boys and she was ALL pissy about that, and then she found my stash, and THEN she-
I kinda stopped reading at this point. It had been the same thing for months now. Ava used to be a lot of fun, but has gone all-in on bossman’s religious bit. Which was a shame, since she didn’t walk around naked any more. At least I got to see a TON of her cleavage today.
Oh yeah, today.
So, they’re getting married, right? And in secret, for some reason that didn’t make sense to me. So it’s just me and Stevie here and...ugh...our resident tranny is so fucked up that I don’t think he/she/it even knows where we are. But Ava demanded that he/she/it was here, and so Stevie is. I guess that makes us the witnesses? Anyway, the preacher from the Church of the Light, which I’m not even sure is a real thing, is asking if anyone should speak up, and I totally should. I mean, we’re talking a racist, Jew-hating cult leader (no way of getting around that, JP!) and a crazy chick from France that cucked a Nazi with the dude. How can this go wrong, right?
But I don’t say anything. Because Lena would have wanted her daughter’s dad to be happy. And because Lena would have wanted her daughter to have a mom someday. That shit’s important, ya know? And just because Fangs hates Ava now doesn’t mean she won’t love her later, right? I mean, I didn’t get along with my mom when I was 15. Who does, right? Not like she’s gonna do anything batshit CRAZY to make Ava disappear or anything, right? That’s just crazy!
So I don’t say anything. Rings are exchanged. Bossman takes off his mask (gross) to kiss her.
“I now, with the Glory and Grace of the One Lord God, who leads us to the Path of Light, pronounce you man and wife.”
Preacherman looks at us.
“I now present Jean-Paul and Aveline Lacklan.”
What could possibly go wrong?
~~Saturday, May 19th, 2018~~
Aveline Lacklan writhed with disgust.
She had been honored when she was approached about giving the keynote speech at the Mother’s Convention, a gift given to her due to what had no doubt been her tireless efforts to turn the Demon Child, Sarah Lacklan, into a respectable young woman four years ago, but she certainly wished that the convention would have been held elsewhere. She had not been in Las Vegas, a city so filled to the brim with sin as to be as proud as both Sodom and Gomorrah combined, in several years, and she had immediately been reminded of why. Everywhere she turned, there was some half-dressed slut who shamelessly exposed herself or some drunken heathen leering at everything. It was enough to make the Blade of God, who was a happily married woman, thank you very much, wish to call upon His glory and wipe the town clean of its very foundations.
But she, as with any true servant of His glory, knew that her sacrifice was of utmost importance. And so she was there, feeling as though the sin around her was constantly permeating through her high-necked dress which reached the floor and was attacking her very principles. She sacrificed and suffered for the sins of the sluts, just as the Son had, and did her best to be the beacon of light and goodness that these dredges of society needed.
If only her companion were as sacrificial.
“OH BORRRRRDYYYYYYY!”
The Frenchwoman groaned as Sidney Grey called out to her. The drunkard, who had somehow become, of all things, the mother of her step-daughter’s wife, a combination of factors too revolting to even think of for too long, wore less than most of the heathens around them. Whereas Bordy had been asked to give the keynote speech on being a strong and effective mother, Sid was the TRUE guest of honor, as she was being presented the Lifetime Achievement award. Bordy wasn’t exactly sure how Sid could be honored for producing what seemed to be a pansexual half-breed who had the emotional stability of a half-starved rabid dog, but such decisions were not hers to make. Along with the scandalous dress which exposed half of her cleavage, Sid was “double fisting,” as the kids would say, with a red cup, no doubt full of some evil liquid, in each hand, and a smooth-faced beauty of hunks of men on each arm. The two of them had never discussed Sid’s apparent position as the executor of her step-daughter’s trust fund, but it at least offered her constant companionship from Sarah’s “guard,” a private security force. And it certainly seemed that Sid picked them for looks and muscle.
“Yes, Sidney?”
Sidney, a well-practiced drinker with decades of experience under her belt, waivers just slightly as she fixes her gaze on the disapproving UGWC Champion of Chaos...and the woman who was now the biggest threat to the lifestyle to which she had recently become accustomed.
“You have a stray hair Dear...”
Sid reaches over and clumsily tucks a gray streaked ringlet of hair back behind her ear. She stands back, posting her hands on her hips as she surveys the ‘rival’ for Lacklanland’s vast wealth. As distasteful as she had found her daughter’s marriage to Sarah Lacklan, over the course of the last few months she had come to see that it was more than just a flash in the pan...and the two polar opposites really did love one another. As foul a taste as that left in her mouth, at the end of the day, her daughter’s happiness is what mattered most...and Sid knew that Kenzi seeing her swimming in Lacklanland’s riches also made her very happy. That was why she’d forged an alliance with Sarah, one that no one expected, not Kenzi and least of all Ava Lacklan.
“You’re a vision Dear...”
Sid leans in an gives her a kiss on each side of her face, with only their cheeks grazing one another in the French style that many saw as elegant, but she found overly dramatic.
“...I’m sure that Jean Paul is looking down on you tonight with pride, seeing you recognized for your efforts tonight.”
Bordy has to control herself from shuttering at the smell of alcohol on Sid’s breath, and she was pretty sure that even her clothes smelled like it...well, what little clothes she DID wear...as if they had been rinsed and soaked in liquor, but she brightens at both the formality and comment.
“I believe he is, yes.”
She cannot help but smile at the drunkard but then eyes her two pieces of arm candy and, with a small motion of her fingers, sends them away. Redmaine had showed her some of the sign language he used with the guard, something that the insufferable child had developed over the years, and it was certainly helpful. She turns so that the two can walk side by side through the throng of people inside the convention center.
“But you are the true guest of honor. Tell me: What was it like to sacrifice yourself, to literally sacrifice your body, all those years for your daughter?”
Sid stops in her tracks, causing Bordy to do the same, as the look on her face said that she was giving serious consideration to the question before answering. Sid’s neglect of her daughter during her formative years was well documented, a fact which Bordy was well aware of, and that Sid herself was probably aware of. She strokes her chin thoughtfully as she answered.
“It was hard, Aveline. It was incredibly hard on me to give up my career and everything I worked so hard for because I was stupid and slept with the right man at the wrong time...”
A long and uncomfortable silence hung in the air between them before she went on.
“...so I didn’t. I left my daughter with my mother and I chased after my dreams instead. I tried to recapture what I had lost...I tried so hard, but no matter what I did, I could never get back what I lost. Honestly, I blamed Kenzi for that...I blamed her for all of it. I blamed her for taking away everything I loved and everything I cared about...trapping me in a prison I felt like I’d never escape...but I did, and I was angry with her...so angry!”
Sid looked Bordy in the eyes, and while Bordy wasn’t entirely sure of what emotion she was seeing, she was surprised to see...what...hope?
“Kenzi wasn’t the reason I was trapped, she wasn’t the reason I had lost so much...I was. I should have cared for her and nurtured her, just like a mother should. I was selfish and stupid! I’m paying for that bit of selfishness now, having completely ruined my relationship with Kenzi.”
There were parallels in their lives, Bordy knew, regardless of how different they were. Sidney was quite a few years older than her, but much of her life reminded Bordy of her own before she found Jean and God. Before she became who she was meant to be.
“You may call me Ava, if you wish. You have earned that, I believe.”
She looks around for a moment, taking in all of the various mothers and those who fought for their rights and well-being.
“I wanted to be what Sarah didn’t have.”
She shrugs and looks back to Sid, and her dark green eyes are bright with small wells of tears.
“I wanted to be what she needed. I wanted to be her guide. I wanted to be her example. But she pushed me away. She rejected me. Even after-”
A tear streaks down her cheek but her face is pure fury.
“She makes me so mad, Sid. SO MAD!”
She wipes away the tear with an aggressive movement of her hands and pushes away another offending drop.
“How do you deal with it? How do you deal with the BOTH of them?”
The answer was probably simple. Money. Lots of money. But she had a feeling there was more to it when it came to Sid.
“Most days I try not to think of the evils they are getting themselves into. I know that it is a symptom of this weird world they grew up in. They lacked guidance and real discipline in their youth, and now they must learn their way through me.”
Sid shrugs, starting to walk again, and Bordy joined her, coming up alongside her.
“I have to trust that sooner or later I will get through to them and they will stop chasing after who they think they are and become who they are meant to be.”
Sid straightens herself, and the way she spoke, with quiet conviction, told Bordy that she meant it.
“Children do as they want and the more you try to bend them, the harder they will fight against you, even when they know that you’re right. Only the lesson they learn for themselves will ever matter to them.”
Bordy nods her head in silence as they walk, absorbing the drunkards words.
“Paging Le Bord de Dieu. Paging Le Bord de Dieu.”
She looks up at the speaker and grimaces.
“Time for my speech.”
She turns to Sid and gives her a genuine smile.
“Thank you for your words. I appreciate them.”
She turns to leave but then stops, turning back to Sid with a wry smile on her face.
“But...lesbians ARE the worst...right? Not just me?”
“So gross!”
The look on Sid's face was one of total disgust. Bordy’s look of relief was clear and massive.
"Oh, thank God!"
Aveline stands behind the curtain, a handful of index cards in her hands, and straightens as her name is called. And then she cannot help but smile as a very distinctive voice blares over the public announcement system.
She walks across the stage and to the podium and cannot wipe the smile off her ace. She shakes her head slightly as she adjust the microphone for her moderate height.
“I love that song. Her voice is so pretty. And it means much to me, as it is a part of my past, and a part of my journey. But of course, weak-minded fools do not think to inquire about your peculiarities, only make judgements based of minor things, instead of delve deeper into the core. But enough about simpletons.”
Bordy looks out over the sea of people before her, the vast majority women, a plethora of shapes, sizes and colors. She looks down at her notes and frowns.
“This is a speech written for me by the Circle Television Network. It speaks of sacrifice...unconditional love...forgiveness. But these things…”
She tosses the cards to the ground in a shower of blue-lined white.
“Being a mother...being a hero...means doing something very specific. You see, I could stand up here and read aloud the platitudes that CTN has written for me, I could espouse the ideals being stalwart and strong, and so on and so forth. But TRULY being a figure that means something in someone’s life? It means leading by example. It is not a matter of ‘do what I say, not what I do,’ but leading from the front and being the shining beacon for the world to see and aspire to. And I AM that beacon.
“I do not know how many of you out there are fight fans, but I am a wrestler. And I have found myself in a company who was recently lead and fronted by someone who only spoke and did not act. You see, this man called down people who would wish to be the leaders, or the owl hen mothers, of the company, but then did the same as they did. He rested on his laurels, was distracted by pettiness, and allowed a superior force to slip by him in the night and take what he thought was his. He did NOT lead by example. Only by shallow words.
“I will NOT be like this, friends. I AM not like this. When I told those he mocked, those wishful hen mothers, that their own attempt to be the leaders of the company was built without foundation, not only did I mean it, I SHOWED it. I build my own foundation upon the love and hope of those who needed it most. I did not just quote the Word and reference Jesus, which any child with Google at their fingertips can do, but I actually did it. I washed the feet of sinners and gave shelter to the homeless. I lead by example. And when it came time to fight, to stand on my feet and FIGHT, I triumphed regardless of what was placed against me. Superior numbers. Superior size. Superior experience. But I backed up my words with actions. I lead.
“And such is what shall happen in two day’s time. I will walk into Chicago, to an area not much unlike what we are standing in now, and I shall lead by example. I shall be a shining star, a brilliant beacon, for every person in my business to lean towards and aspire to. Just as I have shown EXCELLENT skills as a mother to a step-daughter in desperate need of a role model...just as I have shown SUPERIOR skills as a mother to what has become my seemingly adopted horde of ‘cool’ kids...I shall show my entire company of UGWC that I am their Team Mom. Someone to hold them tight. Someone to shelter them. Someone to lead them. And, when needed, someone to punish them.”
She pauses for a moment.
“Thank you for having me here, and I hope that my words bring you inspiration in your own lives. Bonne nuit.”
~~LA FIN~~
Destruction.
Carnage.
Wreckage.
These are the words which spring to mind as the Circle Television Network camera crew moves around the ring in the Synergy Arena. The fans are gone, with the arena crew moving through the seats with their large plastic bags for trash, and the rig crew breaking down the UGWC logos and hardware, but what is left of the ring has thus far been untouched. Shards of a shattered wooden table. Multiple chairs, some mangled to the point of being ready for the scrap heap. A baseball bat. The barricade and floor mats ripped clean away. The steel steps on their side.
And blood.
Blood everywhere.
There are those who do not quite understand why Le Bord de Dieu is included in CTN’s newest reality show, “Keep Up With the Cool Kids,” including the woman herself, but the scene of pain being recorded by the camera offers a moment of clarity: Everything Bordy touches is raw. Is real. Interactions with the real world, from the airport to restaurants to the UGWC offices, which go from the words of an angel to the screams of a devil in moments and without notice. Constant mockery of those around her, both blatant and subtle. Washing the feet of the homeless and offering them shelter in times of trouble while also living in what is nothing more than a nearly condemned warehouse. Friendless, loveless, utterly devoted to a dead husband, and vile in her dealings with anyone who does not believe what she believes.
Le Bord de Dieu is the dichotomy of what professional wrestling is. Both real and fake. Both gritty and sensational. Which means that she, regardless of how some people might feel about it, makes for excellent television.
The camera zooms in on what is left of the table on the outside of the ring. It was as much shards and dust as it was a table, with only even one of the legs still attached to part of the base, and the camera picks up the smears of red. The move which truly ended the match, a bit of desperate improvisation from Bordy which sent both her and Kem Dynamo from the top rope and to the outside, had forced the crowd to become beside themselves, and had sent the blood of the competitors flying. Other camera crews from CTN’s reality show were filming the fans in the lobby and outside the building, headed to whatever late-night eatery they could find, and were catching their reactions and impressions. And in a night filled with debuts of new talent and a Court dominance which featured Lockheart’s impressive win streak stopped and Vaughn’s face covered in ink, the explosion of wood and blood is what was spoke of most.
The camera moves its way away from the ring and down the aisle, where a trail of blood leads up and away. After the match, Bordy had pushed away the trainers and limped her way to the back, the Chaos Championship hoisted across her right shoulder, until she had collapsed in the office set up for the trainers. The camera finds Bordy now, still being fussed over by the resident doctor as his staff. Bordy lays on an examination table, her eyes shut, her body limp. Her brown hair is filled with blood, the grey streaks popping bright pink in comparison, as one of the nurses uses needle and thread to stitch the gash across her forehead.
“How do you feel?”
The camera crew knew it was a dumb question, but they had a job to do. They could see Bordy grit her teeth and could here the annoyance in her groan.
“How do you think I feel?”
The Frenchwoman’s thick accent was particularly nasally in her current position, with one nurse at her head and another taking various vitals.
“Kem and I went to war. And that...CHILD...thought it would be funny to sandwich my head in steel. But it was not enough. No...no...not enough.”
The camera zooms in on the laceration on her forehead being sticked, the result of the referenced offensive maneuver from Dynamo, first the slam atop the steps which cut open the champion, and then the following chair to the back of the head. She nurse was up to six stitches with more to go.
“Not only did I promise...I prothesized. And I delivered. I am the Champion of Chaos. And once again, the entire BUSINESS understands that I am the standard in this company. And not even what might as well have been a 3-on-1 handicap match can show otherwise. Payne. Necron. Dynamo. The first three of what will be many...many...names who cannot and will not dethrone me as the Champion of Chaos.”
Silence falls as the nurse finishes her duty, pulling tight on the threads and snipping the end with a tiny set of scissors. The second nurse reaches up and places a bandage over the stitches before the two move off to the side to confer with the doctor.
“The booking sheet was released. Have you heard about who you face next week?”
Bordy gives them a small shake of her head, her eyes still closed, and her face contorted in pain from that small movement. It would likely be a few days before she could move her head well.
“Singles match. Zane.”
Silence falls, broken only by a long exhale of breath from the prone Frenchwoman.
“...only a matter of time…”
She opens her eyes but then immediately closes them, the dark green irises only seen for a moment. She groans again, the light no doubt painful for the head which very well may have been concussed. Again.
“Something I mentioned to Dynamo is that I am the only person across this entire year thus far who has yet to miss a show in UGWC. I am the only one who has fought the grind every time, without question or fail, and provided both a promotional video and a match. As such, it is only a matter of time until I fight those who are the faces of this company. It was only a matter of time until I fought Lucy Wylde last week. It will only be a matter of time until I face more members of the Court. It was only a matter of time until I fought the man who was the TRUE face of this company when I arrived. And unfortunately for him, it was only a matter of time until he faced the TRUE face of the company today.”
She opens her eyes slowly this time, from closed to slits, until she could stand the light. She sits up, her body moving as slow as her eyelids before it, until she is sitting erect and facing the camera.
“Something that I have found interesting in my time studying this company is how, at the end of 2017, the Court ruled all. Attack after attack, always veiled in mystery of the masks until the reveal on their own time. But their hubris allowed Hastings to become champion at year’s end, and instead of learning their lesson through Christ’s Mass, they continued to be blinded by their own self-importance and allowed Zane to become the first ever triple champion. Chaos. Co-Op. And at Infinity, in the Global Challenge, World.”
She shakes her head, the hair weighed down by blood slapping onto her back.
“But Zane has found himself a victim of his own success since that night in February. His night of dominance at Infinity has found him only finite success and infinite troubles. Squabbles, useless squabbles, with the likes of Deimos and Rydell have lead him to lose the Chaos championship, which ultimately found itself in the hands of its rightful owner. His reliance on Donovan, who would rather spend his time getting in petty arguments with the Court, not to mention committing the unforgivable crime of having the WORST set of pick-up lines for a happily married woman in the long history of courtship, left him alone when he needed a partner, and away went his team titles. And then finally, those squabbles with Deimos and Rydell ultimately left him vulnerable to the ascension of Wylde, which left him in the unfortunate position of being on the wrong side of history.”
Another slow shake of her head. She looks down at the Chaos Championship title sitting next to her on an end table and picks it up. She folds the leather straps behind the gold plate and hefts it in her hands, feeling the weight.
“Since his victory in the Challenge, Zane has been left behind. Just as I said of Rydell several weeks ago, this company is now in a world of a new breed of wrestler, the kind who flies across the world without a care or worry of their bodies, inside or out, and fights several times a week. More faces have come into the UGWC in the last year than at any other time in it’s long existence, perhaps even going back to the days before Lock and Global Impact came together. And in that rush of fresh competition, Zane has found himself employing that dreaded recipe of ‘same shit, different day’ that I have mentioned recently. Wylde’s quality allowed her ‘SSDD’ to be successful, if bland. Dynamo, who is young enough to know better, employed that mixture and failed. And Zane, as much as I may well like his sharp face when he shaves, has had his own brand of SSDD be his undoing.”
She looks up from the title belt and back to the camera.
“Ever since that truly magnificent performs in February, Zane has only won two matches. He has competed in plenty of them. But only won two. A champion, a face of a company, cannot walk out to the ring ten times in twelve events and come up with two wins. That is failure, no matter the temporary status of Triple Champion. And in that time, in what has become a true dirth of victory, the Court have surged back into prominence. In that sea of mediocrity he has allowed himself to inhabit, sharks such as myself have circled. And he has found himself alone, clutching to a discarded piece of flotsam, desperate to keep his head above water, flailing in what has become a pitiful attempt to stay afloat.”
She gives another shake of her head, the countenance of her sharp face clearly sad, the mat of worry lines at the corners of her eyes tightening.
“I do not look forward to what I am going to do to Zane. I like Zane. Well, as much as I like anyone, I suppose. But I will do what I must for God’s vision of wrestling. I will do what I have to do to fulfil my manifest destiny. Because this match is not about titles. It is not about being the Champion of Chaos. It is about momentum. It is about going into the Melee as THE person who the entire world is looking at. And if that person is Zane? If that person is the man who held the world in his hand and then let it all slip away in such a powerful and publicized way, then I will have failed in my mission for God. I will have failed in what He wants from me.
“So, I will NOT allow Zane to walk into the Melee as the face of the company. I will NOT Zane to be looked at as the favorite to earn the World Title match at WrestleStock, or even to be considered ONE of the favorites. I will NOT allow his rapid decline, what very well might be a self-destruction of Sativa Nevaeh or Vossler levels, to be what goes into the Melee as a shining example of what this company is about.
“Instead, while I do not wish to on a personal level, I will break him next Monday. Because while Wylde may be World Champion, and very deserving one, at that, I am the face of this company. I am the person who, without fail, produces every week. I am the one who, without fail, pushes and presses the competition, from the first event of the year when no one knew who I was, all the way until just a few moments ago, when I AGAIN walked out of Synergy as the name on everyone’s lip. When I AGAIN upstaged the entire roster. When I AGAIN showed why being the Champion of Chaos is IMPORTANT. When I AGAIN showed that my Champion of Chaos title is more meaningful than the Cross-Hemisphere and Co-Op championships COMBINED.”
She pauses again, taking a moment to lick her lips, and looks down at the title in her lap. Her face is haggard, weary, the strain of battle clear in her entire countenance.
“The world is not ready for me. Zane is not ready. And he will have to pay for that. But until then? Until this time next week?”
She leans back against the table, reclining until she is comfortable, and closes her eyes as she clutches the Chaos title to her breast.
“Until then...I rest. No silliness online. No annoyance. I leave that for the children.”
And with that, the CTN camera crew allowed her to rest.
~~December, 2013~~
“If anyone sees any reason why these two should not be wed, speak now, or forever hold their peace.”
Yeah, I should REALLY say something. Like, REALLY. But...well…
Okay, lets back up and tell an exhaustively detailed story because that’s what gets all of your rocks off, ya? Like, lets make it full of deets like hair color and what comic book all the people involved enjoy and their shitty relationships with their dad and world-changing terrorist attacks that everyone no-sells and, like, a dude who wears 17 different masks and rips off a line from a movie starring a fat Tom Hanks that hasn’t come out yet, because that is what sells, ya?
Naw, fuck that shit. NOBODY cares about that stuff. Everyone just hits fast forward or goes all CTRL+F and goes to where their own name is, right? Its what I do! But you know what people DO care about?
Me.
For those living under a rock the last few years, my name is Tragik……..THE MAGNIFICEEEEEEEEEENT! That’s right, your Captain of the Oceans of Sexy, the Sexiest Wrestling Journalist of ALL Time, Mayor of Orgasmtown, and the writer of the wrestling articles which make at LEAST half the world sing, is here to talk to you about something. And that something is pretty big. And I’m NOT just talking about what’s between my legs.
Hello, Ladies.
But enough about how sexy I am and how I’m going to get laid AT LEAST three times before this thing is over. This is about the fuckin’ TRAIN WRECK that is happening in front of me. See, along with my SUPERIOR skills as a column-writing, panty-dropping wrestling journalist, I also do a lot of work with this rich wrestler dude taking pictures and stuff. Now, it is a LOOOOOONG story of how I got employed by the dude, and that’s a story filled with regret, and betrayal, and life-shattering backstory, which means no one cares (see above), but the important thing is that I work for the dude, right? And we’ve grown close over the years, mostly because I went to school with his baby mama, but that was a LONG time ago. These days, this dude is shacking up with this SMOKIN’ HAWT chick named Ava who, God-willing, will let me lick her boots someday. But, holy hell, they are getting married! Married! What a mistake!
Listen, I don’t begrudge the guy outright. I mean, just LOOK at that rack of hers! Its all bunched up in the, lets face it, sexy-as-fuck black and gold dress, and she looks like a total queen (the GOOD kind, mind you, and NOT the one I’m standing next to; more on that later), but Ava is legit crazy. I mean, I’m sure the ugly-bumping has to be awesome, since she seems the kind of girl that would be up for just about anything, but I think bossman is making a bad play here. At least he-
“MAY THE SCHWARTZ BE WITH YOU!”
Hold on, getting a text. Lemme bust out my Tragikphone 1.3 and check it out.
PrincessTwilightSexyFang: OMG I HATE HER SO MUCH
Huh. What’s up with Fangs today?
SexyTragikIsSexy: ‘Sup, short stuff?
“MAY THE SCHWARTZ BE WITH YOU!”
PrincessTwilightSexyFang: AVA! She won’t stop giving me shit! OMG I’M GONNA DIE
SexyTragikIsSexy: For what?
“MAY THE SCHWARTZ BE WITH YOU!”
PrincessTwilightSexyFang: Everything! Obvs! She caught me in the servants quarters with a few of the boys and she was ALL pissy about that, and then she found my stash, and THEN she-
I kinda stopped reading at this point. It had been the same thing for months now. Ava used to be a lot of fun, but has gone all-in on bossman’s religious bit. Which was a shame, since she didn’t walk around naked any more. At least I got to see a TON of her cleavage today.
Oh yeah, today.
So, they’re getting married, right? And in secret, for some reason that didn’t make sense to me. So it’s just me and Stevie here and...ugh...our resident tranny is so fucked up that I don’t think he/she/it even knows where we are. But Ava demanded that he/she/it was here, and so Stevie is. I guess that makes us the witnesses? Anyway, the preacher from the Church of the Light, which I’m not even sure is a real thing, is asking if anyone should speak up, and I totally should. I mean, we’re talking a racist, Jew-hating cult leader (no way of getting around that, JP!) and a crazy chick from France that cucked a Nazi with the dude. How can this go wrong, right?
But I don’t say anything. Because Lena would have wanted her daughter’s dad to be happy. And because Lena would have wanted her daughter to have a mom someday. That shit’s important, ya know? And just because Fangs hates Ava now doesn’t mean she won’t love her later, right? I mean, I didn’t get along with my mom when I was 15. Who does, right? Not like she’s gonna do anything batshit CRAZY to make Ava disappear or anything, right? That’s just crazy!
So I don’t say anything. Rings are exchanged. Bossman takes off his mask (gross) to kiss her.
“I now, with the Glory and Grace of the One Lord God, who leads us to the Path of Light, pronounce you man and wife.”
Preacherman looks at us.
“I now present Jean-Paul and Aveline Lacklan.”
What could possibly go wrong?
~~Saturday, May 19th, 2018~~
Aveline Lacklan writhed with disgust.
She had been honored when she was approached about giving the keynote speech at the Mother’s Convention, a gift given to her due to what had no doubt been her tireless efforts to turn the Demon Child, Sarah Lacklan, into a respectable young woman four years ago, but she certainly wished that the convention would have been held elsewhere. She had not been in Las Vegas, a city so filled to the brim with sin as to be as proud as both Sodom and Gomorrah combined, in several years, and she had immediately been reminded of why. Everywhere she turned, there was some half-dressed slut who shamelessly exposed herself or some drunken heathen leering at everything. It was enough to make the Blade of God, who was a happily married woman, thank you very much, wish to call upon His glory and wipe the town clean of its very foundations.
But she, as with any true servant of His glory, knew that her sacrifice was of utmost importance. And so she was there, feeling as though the sin around her was constantly permeating through her high-necked dress which reached the floor and was attacking her very principles. She sacrificed and suffered for the sins of the sluts, just as the Son had, and did her best to be the beacon of light and goodness that these dredges of society needed.
If only her companion were as sacrificial.
“OH BORRRRRDYYYYYYY!”
The Frenchwoman groaned as Sidney Grey called out to her. The drunkard, who had somehow become, of all things, the mother of her step-daughter’s wife, a combination of factors too revolting to even think of for too long, wore less than most of the heathens around them. Whereas Bordy had been asked to give the keynote speech on being a strong and effective mother, Sid was the TRUE guest of honor, as she was being presented the Lifetime Achievement award. Bordy wasn’t exactly sure how Sid could be honored for producing what seemed to be a pansexual half-breed who had the emotional stability of a half-starved rabid dog, but such decisions were not hers to make. Along with the scandalous dress which exposed half of her cleavage, Sid was “double fisting,” as the kids would say, with a red cup, no doubt full of some evil liquid, in each hand, and a smooth-faced beauty of hunks of men on each arm. The two of them had never discussed Sid’s apparent position as the executor of her step-daughter’s trust fund, but it at least offered her constant companionship from Sarah’s “guard,” a private security force. And it certainly seemed that Sid picked them for looks and muscle.
“Yes, Sidney?”
Sidney, a well-practiced drinker with decades of experience under her belt, waivers just slightly as she fixes her gaze on the disapproving UGWC Champion of Chaos...and the woman who was now the biggest threat to the lifestyle to which she had recently become accustomed.
“You have a stray hair Dear...”
Sid reaches over and clumsily tucks a gray streaked ringlet of hair back behind her ear. She stands back, posting her hands on her hips as she surveys the ‘rival’ for Lacklanland’s vast wealth. As distasteful as she had found her daughter’s marriage to Sarah Lacklan, over the course of the last few months she had come to see that it was more than just a flash in the pan...and the two polar opposites really did love one another. As foul a taste as that left in her mouth, at the end of the day, her daughter’s happiness is what mattered most...and Sid knew that Kenzi seeing her swimming in Lacklanland’s riches also made her very happy. That was why she’d forged an alliance with Sarah, one that no one expected, not Kenzi and least of all Ava Lacklan.
“You’re a vision Dear...”
Sid leans in an gives her a kiss on each side of her face, with only their cheeks grazing one another in the French style that many saw as elegant, but she found overly dramatic.
“...I’m sure that Jean Paul is looking down on you tonight with pride, seeing you recognized for your efforts tonight.”
Bordy has to control herself from shuttering at the smell of alcohol on Sid’s breath, and she was pretty sure that even her clothes smelled like it...well, what little clothes she DID wear...as if they had been rinsed and soaked in liquor, but she brightens at both the formality and comment.
“I believe he is, yes.”
She cannot help but smile at the drunkard but then eyes her two pieces of arm candy and, with a small motion of her fingers, sends them away. Redmaine had showed her some of the sign language he used with the guard, something that the insufferable child had developed over the years, and it was certainly helpful. She turns so that the two can walk side by side through the throng of people inside the convention center.
“But you are the true guest of honor. Tell me: What was it like to sacrifice yourself, to literally sacrifice your body, all those years for your daughter?”
Sid stops in her tracks, causing Bordy to do the same, as the look on her face said that she was giving serious consideration to the question before answering. Sid’s neglect of her daughter during her formative years was well documented, a fact which Bordy was well aware of, and that Sid herself was probably aware of. She strokes her chin thoughtfully as she answered.
“It was hard, Aveline. It was incredibly hard on me to give up my career and everything I worked so hard for because I was stupid and slept with the right man at the wrong time...”
A long and uncomfortable silence hung in the air between them before she went on.
“...so I didn’t. I left my daughter with my mother and I chased after my dreams instead. I tried to recapture what I had lost...I tried so hard, but no matter what I did, I could never get back what I lost. Honestly, I blamed Kenzi for that...I blamed her for all of it. I blamed her for taking away everything I loved and everything I cared about...trapping me in a prison I felt like I’d never escape...but I did, and I was angry with her...so angry!”
Sid looked Bordy in the eyes, and while Bordy wasn’t entirely sure of what emotion she was seeing, she was surprised to see...what...hope?
“Kenzi wasn’t the reason I was trapped, she wasn’t the reason I had lost so much...I was. I should have cared for her and nurtured her, just like a mother should. I was selfish and stupid! I’m paying for that bit of selfishness now, having completely ruined my relationship with Kenzi.”
There were parallels in their lives, Bordy knew, regardless of how different they were. Sidney was quite a few years older than her, but much of her life reminded Bordy of her own before she found Jean and God. Before she became who she was meant to be.
“You may call me Ava, if you wish. You have earned that, I believe.”
She looks around for a moment, taking in all of the various mothers and those who fought for their rights and well-being.
“I wanted to be what Sarah didn’t have.”
She shrugs and looks back to Sid, and her dark green eyes are bright with small wells of tears.
“I wanted to be what she needed. I wanted to be her guide. I wanted to be her example. But she pushed me away. She rejected me. Even after-”
A tear streaks down her cheek but her face is pure fury.
“She makes me so mad, Sid. SO MAD!”
She wipes away the tear with an aggressive movement of her hands and pushes away another offending drop.
“How do you deal with it? How do you deal with the BOTH of them?”
The answer was probably simple. Money. Lots of money. But she had a feeling there was more to it when it came to Sid.
“Most days I try not to think of the evils they are getting themselves into. I know that it is a symptom of this weird world they grew up in. They lacked guidance and real discipline in their youth, and now they must learn their way through me.”
Sid shrugs, starting to walk again, and Bordy joined her, coming up alongside her.
“I have to trust that sooner or later I will get through to them and they will stop chasing after who they think they are and become who they are meant to be.”
Sid straightens herself, and the way she spoke, with quiet conviction, told Bordy that she meant it.
“Children do as they want and the more you try to bend them, the harder they will fight against you, even when they know that you’re right. Only the lesson they learn for themselves will ever matter to them.”
Bordy nods her head in silence as they walk, absorbing the drunkards words.
“Paging Le Bord de Dieu. Paging Le Bord de Dieu.”
She looks up at the speaker and grimaces.
“Time for my speech.”
She turns to Sid and gives her a genuine smile.
“Thank you for your words. I appreciate them.”
She turns to leave but then stops, turning back to Sid with a wry smile on her face.
“But...lesbians ARE the worst...right? Not just me?”
“So gross!”
The look on Sid's face was one of total disgust. Bordy’s look of relief was clear and massive.
"Oh, thank God!"
Aveline stands behind the curtain, a handful of index cards in her hands, and straightens as her name is called. And then she cannot help but smile as a very distinctive voice blares over the public announcement system.
Don't cry to me, if you loved me
You would be here with me
You want me, come find me
Make up your miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiind
She walks across the stage and to the podium and cannot wipe the smile off her ace. She shakes her head slightly as she adjust the microphone for her moderate height.
“I love that song. Her voice is so pretty. And it means much to me, as it is a part of my past, and a part of my journey. But of course, weak-minded fools do not think to inquire about your peculiarities, only make judgements based of minor things, instead of delve deeper into the core. But enough about simpletons.”
Bordy looks out over the sea of people before her, the vast majority women, a plethora of shapes, sizes and colors. She looks down at her notes and frowns.
“This is a speech written for me by the Circle Television Network. It speaks of sacrifice...unconditional love...forgiveness. But these things…”
She tosses the cards to the ground in a shower of blue-lined white.
“Being a mother...being a hero...means doing something very specific. You see, I could stand up here and read aloud the platitudes that CTN has written for me, I could espouse the ideals being stalwart and strong, and so on and so forth. But TRULY being a figure that means something in someone’s life? It means leading by example. It is not a matter of ‘do what I say, not what I do,’ but leading from the front and being the shining beacon for the world to see and aspire to. And I AM that beacon.
“I do not know how many of you out there are fight fans, but I am a wrestler. And I have found myself in a company who was recently lead and fronted by someone who only spoke and did not act. You see, this man called down people who would wish to be the leaders, or the owl hen mothers, of the company, but then did the same as they did. He rested on his laurels, was distracted by pettiness, and allowed a superior force to slip by him in the night and take what he thought was his. He did NOT lead by example. Only by shallow words.
“I will NOT be like this, friends. I AM not like this. When I told those he mocked, those wishful hen mothers, that their own attempt to be the leaders of the company was built without foundation, not only did I mean it, I SHOWED it. I build my own foundation upon the love and hope of those who needed it most. I did not just quote the Word and reference Jesus, which any child with Google at their fingertips can do, but I actually did it. I washed the feet of sinners and gave shelter to the homeless. I lead by example. And when it came time to fight, to stand on my feet and FIGHT, I triumphed regardless of what was placed against me. Superior numbers. Superior size. Superior experience. But I backed up my words with actions. I lead.
“And such is what shall happen in two day’s time. I will walk into Chicago, to an area not much unlike what we are standing in now, and I shall lead by example. I shall be a shining star, a brilliant beacon, for every person in my business to lean towards and aspire to. Just as I have shown EXCELLENT skills as a mother to a step-daughter in desperate need of a role model...just as I have shown SUPERIOR skills as a mother to what has become my seemingly adopted horde of ‘cool’ kids...I shall show my entire company of UGWC that I am their Team Mom. Someone to hold them tight. Someone to shelter them. Someone to lead them. And, when needed, someone to punish them.”
She pauses for a moment.
“Thank you for having me here, and I hope that my words bring you inspiration in your own lives. Bonne nuit.”
~~LA FIN~~
x2