Post by LACKLAN on May 25, 2018 18:26:36 GMT -5
~~The following is a message from the Path of the Light Church~~
It is in this day and age that we stand before Satan in a new and profound way. For millennia, the Father of Lies has come up with new ways to trick the believers, to pull us away from God’s embrace, but never before have we faced such an assault. In the past, the fallen cherubim has tricked men and women, good men and women of faith, into obsessing over the flesh, or worldly pleasures, or of experiencing the moment of NOW at the expense of the thought of AFTER. But this new assault, this new tactic of the Son of the Morning, has trumped any and all previous attacks, perhaps even all of them combined.
That tactic?
The embrace of mediocrity.
Lo! How this trend hurts our souls!
Lo! How this belief flies in the face of His grace!
Lo! How the great coverer that is Lucifer has made an idol out of Mizore Payne!
God wishes for us to aspire to greatness. His greatness! His vision! A world which would not only push to be the best it could be but would hold the best above onto a pedestal. Never to idolatry, of course, never to replacement, but to a place of joyous aspiration. Take the greatest and use them as examples of how to live their lives and aspire to be right with God.
Lo! Look towards the greatest of us!
Lo! Aspire to be the example of His desire!
Lo! Base your life around the greatness that is Le Bord de Dieu!
Do NOT, dear children, look at the example of Mizore as anything but sadness deep enough to weep over. Look how she crows about having TWO victories of note in her profession! Look how she struts around as if TWO wins in NINE matches across THREE months was ANYTHING approaching to the greatness which God demands. Do NOT allow yourselves to fall for the lie of Satan, to fall for the falsehood that MEDIOCRITY such as that embraced by Mizore is what God wishes.
No! To be mediocre is to NOT be great!
No! To be the “best” when compared to the worst is NOT to be desired!
No! To be at the level of the Rydells and Blackwells of the world is NOT to be aspired to!
Instead, dear children, aspire to be akin to the Blade of God, herself! Aspire to be the FACE of professional wrestling! Push and strive to be like the woman, with the fearsome beauty and terrible rage, who conquers champions and defies the world every day! Push yourself to be even half the woman she is, to have half the understanding of His grace and glory that she possesses! Push yourself to be worthy of even THINKING of being on her level!
Indeed, dear children, do not waste your time diving into the annals of all that one such as Mizore might hold dear. Do not tarry in what He has planned for you by spending your days worried about wrestlers from companies who matter to no one but the addle-minded, or perhaps what flavor of cake that Elizabeth Blackwell is eating this week, or which anime is better than another. Do not put yourself into the skin of a woman who will take a small, quick, perhaps even infinitesimal look at an online bio and then do a tiny promotional video based upon the small fact she read instead of actually researching and looking into an opponent.
Instead! Oh, instead! Put yourself into the skin of the Champion of Chaos! Put yourself into the skin of the woman who studies all within her company to an exhaustive level and knows about every person, place, story, relationship, and interaction to be had! Instead! Model yourself after the woman who has her pulse on her company and her profession, how knows about the feebleness of Mizore’s analytical capabilities and, in their only meeting thus far, brought her into the embrace of God and smote her, largely through her understanding of her opponent.
Yes! Push away the likes of The Experience and Carnage! Push away the children who make even the dreaded Cool Kids look like paragons of quality and maturity! Push away the weak-willed such as the Payne’s of the world whose belief in themself is basically summed up as “Welp, I guess I’ll try to not be such a pathetic loser tomorrow!” Push away Satan’s lie, which might as well be Payne’s motto, that “MEH is good enough for me!” and instead embrace the excellence that is the Blade and Edge of God, the Champion of Chaos, the bride of the Voice of God, the Mistress of the Manor.
Embrace the Light, dear children. Embrace the greatness and drive of one like Le Bord de Dieu. And push away Satan’s falsities such as Payne&Friends general way of limping through life which can be summed up as, “Well, I’m not good, but I’m not terrible, so ‘okay’ is great for me!”
Light be with you.
~~December, 2013~~
Stevie Swing stumbled across the mantle of the Manor and nearly fell to her knees. Luckily for her, her experience in being drunk, stoned, or most likely, both, was legitimately legendary, so she was able to avoid spilling any of the golden liquid in the glasses in either hand. The skinny brunette skids her stumble to a stop, right before she smashed into the marble bust that is only a few feet inside the unnecessarily large house. Her glazed brown eyes try to focus on the chiseled face she had only seen in pictures and pieces of art like this, a face with a nose pointed high into the air as if it was smelling something foul and with long locks of hair down past its shoulders.
“Was he not beautiful?”
Stevie blinks at the sound of the high-pitched Londoner accent. And then she blinks again. And again. Even those blinks seem to throw off her equilibrium and make her lose her balance. Even while standing still.
“Auntie Stevie? Are you listening?”
Stevie finally turns away from the bust of her hated rival and over in the direction of the voice. She sees three blobs of black and red that slowly...very slowly...pulled together into one single blob. A short blob.
“huh?”
The short blob seemed to shake before Stevie’s eyes and it took several seconds for the blob to start to form. The blob’s edge softened into a black and red robe with a bright white face poking out of the hood and what looked like two fires where the eyes should have been. Stevie wished what she saw was because of how drunk she was, but the blob-turned-girl was as real as the drinks in her hands.
“LISTEN TO ME!”
The girl stomped her foot with an exaggerated motion and her small hands curled into fists. Stevie would have laughed if she wasn’t sure it would make her barf her liquid diet. The still somewhat blurry girl continued to shake.
“NO ONE EVER LISTENS TO ME ANYMORE! I HAVE IMPORTANT THINGS TO SAY!”
Stevie blinks again and tries to catch her bearings.
“Fan-”
Stevie groaned as her head swam with fluid pain as she tried to talk. Okay, maybe she needed to drink a little less. Just a little. She pressed one of the glasses of gin against her head, enjoying the feel of the chilled glass against her skin.
“Fangs...we listen...it’s just…”
She groans when she opens her eyes again and the girl is back to three indistinct blobs. She then groaned again when the girl stomped her foot again and threw her arms into the air.
“NO YOU DON’T! AND NO ONE EVEN READS MY BLOG!”
The girl starts pacing back and forth in front of the marble bust.
“All ANYONE does these days is listen to HER! The servants jump when she says frog! The Minions stand straight and salute when she walks by! Redmaine, who is a freakin’ TERRORIST, turns into a little freakin’ puppy dog when she’s around! All of my playthings scatter when she comes around and starts ranting about dumb stuff like NOT having orgies. Who would NOT want to have an orgy?! And even Daddy!”
She stops before the bust and looks at the face.
“He was SO pretty when he was young.”
She turns back to Stevie and her weird face was suddenly filled with what could only be affection.
“Did you ever know him before the fires? Before the mask?”
Stevie blinked more as she tried to keep up with the sudden change in subject and demeanor from the reckless tornado that was Sarah Lacklan.
“Um...no. I knew him when he had the hair, though. Before-”
Stevie cut off quickly, giving herself a little shake to try to clear the cobwebs. She didn’t like JPL, not at all, but she agreed with him that Sarah was too young to be told about his cancer. 15 was too young to learn that your dad had been given a timetable of a few years to die. But the girl turned around and looked back at the bust.
“I would have loved to have seen it!”
She pushed back her hood to show her own head of shockingly bright white hair. The girl was weird enough as it was, and being born to a religious nut job like her dad wasn’t doing her any favors, but being an albino just added to her not having a chance in the world of being normal or emotionally balanced. The kid never had a shot.
“All I have are pictures…”
She reaches out and touches the long locks of marble sprouting out of the head. While certainly not an albino, as that came from the girl’s mother’s side, JPL had once had bright white hair that just added to his crazy aura. Just about always dressed in black and purple, you couldn’t miss JPL from a mile away. Of course, he looked even crazier NOW with the masks and all.
“So, where have you guys been all weekend? I didn’t notice a show on Daddy’s schedule but everyone seemed to be gone.”
Stevie’s inebriated mind tried to think of a clear answer that wouldn’t cause a scene. But it failed her.
“Watching your dad and Ava get hitched.”
She knew that she had made a mistake when the girl spun around and had a face that looked like a demon. Her mouth was open but Stevie couldn’t hear anything, but she was pretty sure she could hear a dog barking in the distance. Stevie groaned and tried to cover her ears without spilling any of her drinks when Sarah’s scream came down to a pitch that human ears could hear.
“DO NOT LIE TO ME LIKE THAT AUNTIE I CANNOT EVEN”
She rushed forward toward Stevie with a quickness that finally caused her to drop her drinks. Part of her cried in sorrow as the gin hit the marble tiles but the rest of her was suddenly staring down at the little ball of rage in front of her. Even in her drunken state, the wrestler’s instincts kept her wary of the monster parading around as a teenager.
“I SWEAR TO GOD YOU HAD BETTER BE LYING THIS ISN’T FUNNY WHY WOULD YOU SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT OMG I HATECHU SO MUCH RIGHT NOW”
Stevie tried to get a word in but she knew, from experience, how futile it was. Better to let the girl play herself out.
“I HATE HER SO MUCH BECAUSE SHE HATES ME AND I SWEAR ON MY MOTHER’S GRAVE THAT I WOULD RATHER SEE HER DEAD THAN IN MY LIFE EVEN ONE MORE SECOND EVEN IF SHE LIKES CUTE KITTIES AND HOW COULD YOU LET THIS HAPPEN WHO ELSE KNOWS DAMNIT STEVIE YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE ON MY SIDE WHY COULD YOU”
When the tirade...eventually...died down, Stevie could only shake her head. Slowly. Because that shit hurt.
“Listen, kid. I don’t even remember what happened yesterday, okay? It was just me and your godfather there and the whole thing was crazy. I only did it because I was promised some Drive and because Ava needed someone to be her maid of honor. Listen-”
But Stevie could tell that the girl was no longer listening and was thinking hard, instead. Her red pupils were moving a mile a minute, something she had done all her life when she was processing information. Stevie has seen the girl, even at a young age, set up complicated schemes that took advantage of people and helped her get whatever she wanted, no matter the cost to anyone else, and this seemed no different. Her eyes suddenly stopped moving and locked back up on Stevie’s and the girl smiled.
“Thank you for the idea, Auntie Stevie.”
“wut”
The girl smiled wider and took a step back.
“I am sure the whole thing WAS indeed...crazy.”
She put an odd emphasis on that last word. Then, with her hands going to the edges of her robe, she dipped down into a deep and perfect curtsy.
“Thank you for your time, Auntie. Light be with you.”
The girl then sped off leaving Stevie to wonder what idea she had just given the little monster.
You know, when I took this job, I really didn’t expect to have to do things like this. I mean, browsing for stuff on Craigslist’s “Missed Connections” section as well as my Twitter was probably already an odd way of getting a job, but being the personal assistant to a wrestler sends me on weird adventures. Like this one.
See, last week I was at MOMCON18 along with my boss, Le Bord de Dieu, and her group of weird soldiers/security/fanatics, right? So I wasn’t really needed to carry her bags or anything (yes, she still calls me “Jet”), so I wondered off as soon as I saw that decrepit Sidney Grey in her usual Skeletor cosplay outfit and headed towards the CATMOM18 booth. Like all sane people in the world, I love Angie! She’s a little too tall for my tastes, but her dimples are adorable. And Coach Heel says that she’s a wildcat in the sack, which makes sense, because its always the quiet ones.
Anyway, her booth was jam packed with people being instructed on how to love and care for their kitties, so while I was waiting in line, noticed a poster plastered to a trash can. I couldn’t help but notice the smiling face on the poster and went over to investigate. When I saw what it was for, I just knew that I had to inform my bosslady about it. Unfortunately, I never thought that I would be the one to have to be here to check it out!
So, here we are. The Kem Dynamo School of Wrestling. The room is full of heavy-breathing fat people, for the most part, and a few of the nerdiest wrestling fans you can imagine. You know, those kind of fat guys who live in their mom’s basement or the skinny guys with the dumb hair and thick glasses who wear their Carnage t-shirts.
Now, I know that I haven't exactly been around the wrestling world all that long, but I am pretty sure that a 20 year old doesn't have a whole lot to offer as a trainer, even IF she is a second generation wrestler. So, what exactly were these people looking to learn? What exactly could Kem teach?
I didn’t have to wonder for long. Because soon, in wattled one of the fattest people I have ever seen. At least 350 pounds, this person wore a singlet that did NOTHING to hide the rolls of fat, was clearly a man in need of a shave, and wore a wig. The people around me cheered, hooted and hollered, even started up a “DY-NA-MO!” chant. Well, if people were stupid enough to think that anything Kem had to say leading up to her Chaos Title match was relevant, they were going to be stupid enough to think this dude in drag was Kem, right?
This was going to be a LOOOOOOONG day.
These were the lessons that I was subjected to across the day:
Kem opened up with, of course, the lesson that preference in music is how you determine who is athletically superior. And then doubled-down on it. Because songs can’t be pretty. Voices can’t be nice. Indeed, if you DON’T believe in EVERYTHING that an artist supports or does, then IT DOESN’T make sense and then YOU LOSE. Naturally, Kem ALSO taught that you must NEVER listen to another song by Michael Jackson or watch another episode of the Bill Cosby Show. Because if you DO, but also DON’T support alleged grape, then that makes ZERO sense and thus DISQUALIFIES you from being a wrestler. Because if YOU don't support what THEY do, its the SAME as when THEY don't support what YOU do.
She THEN went on to say that the same thing applies to EVERY OTHER COMPLETELY IRRELEVANT CHOICE IN YOUR LIFE.
Like cats instead of dogs?
YOU LOSE.
Prefer shitty Star Trak over the vastly superior Star Wars?
YOU LOSE.
Live in West Hollywood but REALLY like to dive into Maine Lobster Tail?
YOU LOSE.
Prefer stuff like sour belt candy over a box of chocolates?
YOU LOSE.
This went on for many...many...hours. Of course, she took a whole lot of breaks so that she could get into everyone else’s business, because that’s also how she rolls. There was a whole lot of “Woah, hold on. I need to go interject myself into THIS conversation now even though it has nothing to do with me and I don’t offer anything substantive or helpful but its okay because everyone knows that I’m a complete joke anyway DID I TELL YOU I BEAT TRAVIS PIERCE THREE YEARS AGO?!”
So...SO...SOOOO glad that Bordy handed over that $3.50 so that I could be here...
Week 1 - The patient was brought in on at the behest of worried family members. She screamed and kicked, as one is wont to do, and said that she was not “crazy” and “did not belong here.” She is ranting about being “a queen” and how she lives in the “castle by the river.” I prescribed diazepam to calm the patient and will begin work on a program to help her move away from these delusions.
Week 2 - The patient’s belongings have been taken from her so as to detach her from her delusional history. The inventory includes the expensive dress and jewelry she wore when brought in, most likely stolen, shoes, a purse, and a picture of the professional wrestler known as Jean-Paul Lacklan. I suspect that the patient has an obsession-addictive disorder, commonly being referred to lately as “celebrity worship syndrome.” I have increased her diazepam dosage.
Week 3 - After conferring with Dr. Dubois, I have confirmed the patient’s obsession-addictive disorder. This fantasy scenario has occurred before and turned violent. I have ordered to have her belongings shredded and burned in front of her, so as to help with the break from her fantasy. Diazepam increased.
Week 4 - The patient is screaming constantly now. She attacked an orderly during the burning of her belongings and was restrained. Diazepam increased.
Week 18 - In a moment of clarity, the patient calmed and quietly asked that we allow her to bleach her hair. I believe this is just an attempt to revert back to her fantasy. I have declined her request.
Week 19 - Patient turned violent. Forced to restrain. Contemplating shock therapy.
Week 27 - Six month review. Patient slips back and forth between being calm and erratic. Regardless of demeanor, refuses to let go of her delusion. I am approving the shock therapy.
Week 35 - Therapy is going well. Refuses to let go of delusion. Starting to scream all night long about “the demon child,” likely another part of her fantasy.
Week 47 - Patient has begun to cut herself. I have ordered all sharp instruments to be no where near her. The nurse tells me that there are some cuts which are clean, as if from a razor, and others which jagged, as if from a saw. Diazepam and shock treatments increased.
Week 59 - I do not know how the patient keeps getting sharp instruments, but the cutting continues. The last number confirmed by the nurse was 59, half on one arm, half on the other. Interesting.
Week 72 - Doing an odd thing where she is jumping back and forth from French and English, seemingly without noticing. Might be reverting to her life before her delusions began. A ray of hope.
Week 89 - Patient tried to escape. Organized a mutiny with the other patients. Solitary confinement.
Week 102 - Attacked a nurse today. All treatments increased.
Week 123 - Permanent solitary confinement. Suicide watch.
Week 147 - I have lost all hope for this patient. Screams out “L'enfant démon” into the night constantly. She has a pure and complete break from reality and is wholly in her delusion.
Week 169 - Patient escaped. A nurse entered to provide treatment and was attacked. The phrase “Il est ressuscité” was smeared on the walls in blood. Authorities have been contacted.
~~Thursday, May 25th, 2018~~
Aveline Lacklan smiled.
The shockingly bright white hair in the mirror still caught her by surprise. She had not bleached her hair for years, and while Redmaine had been pressing her for many weeks to “ascend her throne,” it did not seem right. This was how Jean knew her. This was how Jean loved her. How he had married her. And a world without him should mean a world without what he loved. But on the spur of the moment after being approached about making this appearance, she did it. They took their time over the course of two days to make sure the bleach took and now a version of herself she thought was gone was looking back at her.
“You look magnificent, Ava.”
Redmaine’s garbled voice lifted her spirits and made her blush. She looked over her shoulder in the mirror and saw the masked man leaning against the wall of her dressing room. He had a clear view of her bare backside, but she did not mind. She never minded with him. Redmaine was one of the few how held true to the Path of the Light, one of the few who stayed steadfast. It was him, and the notes he slipped into the asylum through men on the inside, which had kept her sane.
“Thank you, Red.”
He pushed off from the wall and brought her the gown she would wear on stage tonight, a black dress with silver buttons down the front. In a rarity, the number was sleeveless, meaning that her scars would be out in the open. Since outing her identity to the world, she had gotten into the habit of wearing clothes that both hid and glorified her arms, typically dresses with long sleeves that had slashes of color, but she wanted the world to see tonight. See her scars. See her hair. Let them know who she truly was.
“Nervous?”
She giggles as he helps her with the dress.
“Hardly. We will play a silly game and then talk about tomorrow’s LFL game and my match on Monday. I do not fear the Chaos, as I am the Champion of Chaos. And Monday’s match at Synergy will be a trial, but not for the reasons most would assume.”
“How so?”
“The match I have in somewhat inconsequential. There are not titles on the line, nor any establishment of contendership. It is, much in the same vein as my match with Zane, a match about gaining momentum. But for me, there is little to gain, and that might be a surprise.”
She adjusts the bottom of the dress over her hips and to her thighs as she looks in the mirror.
“Last week, I defeated Zane, our vaunted ‘Triple Champion,’ clean in the ring, just as I said. And just as I said, I have all the momentum and the proof of who I am and who he is NOT. But this week includes Mizore Payne, who, while no doubt desperate to show that her recent win was more than a rarity, lacks the talent, skill, or drive to show it. Kem is likely equally desperate to gain a win in this match, as her loss to me, regardless of how obvious it was going to be, had to be crushing for her. After all, the truth IS crushing, at times.”
She cocks her head to the side and looks at the mirror with pursed lips.
“You know, something that my husband says is that all he does is hold up the mirror. If people did not like what they saw, it was not HIS fault, it was THEIRS. Truth be told, a couple of weeks ago, I held up the mirror and not only exposed Kem to the world for who she is, but I made her see her own reflection, as well. She certainly did not like that.”
She turns her head the other direction and regards her reflection from a the opposite angle
“I wonder if she will just repeat the same thing she said to me before? And I wonder if Mizore will just do the same thing she usually does of not pay attention to things? It is so silly how people of their calibre do that. It would be like me just repeating what I said about the Court to Jet for the sake of Eden without actually giving a damn about my opponents or the world we are in.”
She gives a shake to her head.
“Anyway, she is no doubt desperate to get this win, as ANY win over me will help lessen the sting of failing on such a grand level as a title match in the main event...or ‘Kemming it,’ as I have heard the children now call it...and she has an excellent opportunity to achieve that pyrrhic victory. All she need to is pin Mizore while Eden and I are feeling one another out.”
She puts the finishing touches on the dress and looks up to regard Redmaine in the mirror once more.
“Much as with Zane, this is a match which we knew would happen at some point, even if our concentration is on other things, with I being the Champion of Chaos and she working with Jet and the Good Doctor. Eden and I have only spoken or interacted in a truly peripheral way until now, and while I quite like the jezebel, we would eventually have no choice but to fight one another. I am much looking forward to it.”
She turns away from the mirror and looks up at Redmaine.
“Eden is a master at manipulation but she has never faced someone the likes of me. She enjoys the balance of chaos and order, but I AM that balance. I AM chaos and I MARRIED order. It will not be easy for her. Thus I suspect that, while she and I are fighting and are at a stalemate, since this is really about getting to know one another for main events of the future, Kem will try to sneak in a victory of Mizore. After all, there is little doubt in my mind that the winner of this match will make Mizore the loser, as her role and position in life is clearly to be stepped upon by her superiors.”
She laid her hand on Redmaine’s chest, her fingernails lightly scratching the hard muscle under his shirt.
“Unfortunately for Kem, I will not allow this opportunity to feel out Eden distract me. Because I WILL feel out Eden, I WILL get the measure of her, but I will also put my capabilities in these multi-participant matches come to bear. Since returning to wrestling to bring His word and vision, I have been in seven of these matches, and that includes when I became the Champion of Chaos. I have learned lessons in that time, from not allowing Williams’ tremor-causing exercise to make me stumble, to not allowing Ingalls’ lack of hygiene to cause me to lose my breath, to not allowing the likes of Lockheart to take advantage of the damage I cause. I will NOT allow someone to sneak in a pin after I make Mizore embrace God. I will NOT allow Kem’s insistence on putting her nose into other people’s lives to get in the way of my victory. I wll NOT allow Eden to shrug off losing to the Vaughn girl as if it means NOTHING when VICTORIES mean EVERYTHING.”
She walks her fingers up Redmaine’s chest and then places them lightly on the faceguard around his mouth.
“...I have always been fond of masks…”
A whisper. She walks her fingers up until she places her fingers on his brow, touching the skin with her fingertips.
“Monday will end just like last Monday. And the Monday before. And the Monday before. And as so many other Mondays. Regardless of the attention-grabbing shenanigans of children, especially the children who cannot even stay focused enough on their supposed lovers who have been kidnapped long enough to not answer useless ask.fm questions, Synergy shall end with one name on the lips of the people leaving the arena. One name with all the momentum going into the Melee. One name which shall be the favorite to win and face the champion at WrestleStock.”
She smiles as she takes Redmaine’s head in both hands.
“The Blade and Edge of God. The Champion of Chaos. Aveline Lacklan.”
A knock at the door is followed a message that Mr. Fallon was ready for her. She is quickly out the door, gliding away. Redmaine stood there for many minutes without moving a muscle. His bald forehead trembled with gooseflesh.
“One name.”
His muffled voice was filled with reverence.
“The Red Queen.”
~~FIN~~
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