The Ballad of when Team Kickass stormed into the Synergy Ar-

[cooltubesource]

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"...this is horseshit..."

Yet another grumbled oath from Sarah Selena Grey-Lacklan as she pushed up the stairs with two suitcases in her hands. Even though she understood her wife's aloofness as to how they could suddenly afford the Waldorf hotel for an extended period, as wives needed secrets from one another, she did NOT understand why they couldn't afford to hire people to move their stuff out of the boat and to Beverly Hills.

"It'll be fun!" Kenzi had said with a smile on her face.

"F that can-do shit!"

Her grumbling was only for herself, of course. Even though Sarah was relatively healthy again, and was close to getting cleared for full-time wrestling activity by her doctor, she was still in significantly worse shape than Kenzi, who despite having "retired" six or seven times this calendar year, had stayed active with her Zumba classes she had been teaching. Kenzi had made far more trips from the car below to their penthouse than she had and was still easily outpacing her.

"...gonna whoop that black ass so hard..."

She stopped at the door of their new apartment and set down the two cases of shoes gently so that she could take a breather. Looking at the door, memories of their old apartment in West Hollywood flooded her. They had had many adventures in that apartment, from sweet lovemaking with singing and dancing, to wild adventures of sex on the balcony that caused people to call in complaints, to insane fights that had left them both in tears. But most importantly, they had fallen in love, true love, within those walls, and while their time in the boat would always be special, this suddenly felt like coming home.

She smiled as she lugged the bags over the thresh. The apartment wasn't furnished yet, probably wouldn't be for a while, but certain things were already there. A handful of pictures of the two of them together in their frames; boxes (and boxes and boxes) of her clothes; quite a bit of Kenzi's recording equipment; a bag of pigeon feed by the door. Kenzi had insisted that they only bring what was MOST important, which meant that MUCH of her extensive wardrobe was going to be in storage for the foreseeable future. Sarah didn't know how Kenzi had arraigned for her aviary to be stored on the building's roof, but she didn't ask questions.

"Baby?"

Kenzi walked out of the hall and Sarah's heart froze. They both wore little for the labor of moving, just sports bras and shorts, and her wife's body glistened with sweat from the work. Her skin looked like it was polished bronze, it had so much glow, and her neck, covered by its usual trail of bite marks, sang out to her, standing out proudly with her multitude of braids pulled back into a large tail.

"Fuck me now," said Sarah, her mouth suddenly dry. Kenzi gave her a curious expression and rose an eyebrow.

"Wh-"

"Shit up and fuck me now!"

Kenzi just gave her that “Really?!” look that both drove her mad with rage and frustration.

“Can’t! Off to work. But I promise I’ll be home soon!”

And with that, Kenzi was out the door, slowing slightly only to kiss the air in front of Sarah. The albino’s body joined her voice in groaned protest as the person who completed her was spirited away by work again. But her odd red eyes gleamed with mishief as she hatched a plan. Off to the shower to wash away the grime from the manual labor, her least favorite kind, and fingers pressing buttons on her phone at a shocking rate as she pushed pieces into place.

"...gonna get laid, gonna get laid, gonna get laid..."

The mantra came from Sarah hours later as those pieces came together. Her Beloved, the person who tamed her, who made her far more of a better person than she had any right to be, had been working so hard since winning the WrestleStock Cup that they had barely had any personal time together. Sure, the post-victory banging at the festival had been explosive, but there had been ZERO actual romance since Kenzi had started the promotional tour. Sarah remembered well from her own experience the year before; doing twitterviews on the plane, FaceTimes at breakfast, answering fan questions between sets. But it seemed Kenzi was even MORE busy than SHE had been!

"...gonna get laid, gonna get laid, gonna get laid..."

Sarah had schemed and plotted throughout the day, had maneuvered the few servants they had left to distract all of the reps from Econo Lodge, Claire's, Instagram, and any other damned company that Kenzi was working with in order to pounce on her wife. There was NO way that they were going to have a repeat of last night, a night meant for them when they had FINALLY scheduled some time together, and had ended in Sarah holding a can of some off-brand whipped cream and staring at a snoring spouse. NO way!

"...gonna get laid, gonna get laid, gonna get laid..."

Sarah was dressed in one of her tightest dresses, one of her own Firestarter numbers that she had to have re-fitted after all of her weight loss she incurred while on the injured list, and her bright white hair done into two big braids, something she had noticed Kenzi really liked. She flushed at the idea of them being used as "handlebars," her pale face turning a no-doubt scandalous shade of scarlet, and her body heated. Her purse contained her phone, cued to their "Babymaker" track list on Spotify, and had both Pop and Bop hiding within.

"...gonna get laid, gonna get laid, gonna get laid..."

She stood outside the door of Kenzi's office where she knew she was playtesting the newest patch update for their upcoming video game, Circle Arcade Wrestling, and smoothed out her dress, pausing to make sure her cleavage was about to fall out. She smiled and pushed open the door.

"Hey, babe! I-"

She stopped cold at the scene laid out in front of her: Kenzi face-down on the table in front of her, snoring away, her long braids falling near to the floor, while the finish of the last match being played repeated again and again on replay. Sarah’s heart sank as she saw the image of the computerized Angie Vaughn jam her fingers into the mouth of Caprice DeLioncourte with the “EW!” for the submission finish over and again and the gravity of the situation sunk in.

"SON OF A BITCH!"

She offered many more curse words to the air about the state of her frustrated loins and stormed back out of the room to search out help in getting her wife back to the hotel bed quietly so that she could get some much-needed sleep. Once arrangements were made, she growled and made an agreement with herself:

Her wife desperately needed a vacation. THEY needed that vacation. And if she must make a deal with the devil to make it happen, so be it. She whipped out her phone and sent a text to Prenn, their lone remaining handmaiden:

Get me a flight to Bangor

---

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While no doubt Sarah envisions the idea of Eden Morgan receiving a letter brought by albino carrier pigeon to be one filled with hearts in her eyes like in an anime, the following scene most likely occurred this way:

“Damnit, not another one!”

“I thought you said the owls would scare those rats away!”

“Don’t start with me, Jet!”

“How does she keep doing this? WHY?”

“I don’t know!”

“Tell your niece to stop! There is bird crap EVERYWHERE!”

“THAT IS NOT A THING AND YOU KNOW IT”

And then a sigh of resignation so suffering that even the most downtrodden and depressed person in the world would have had sympathy for Ms. Morgan.

* * * * * * * * * *

❤️Auntie Eeeeedeeeeeeeeen❤️

So, how are things? I wouldn’t know, because, like, NONE of your letters have gotten to me. Like, ever. I mean, I already legit knew that pigeons are, like, WAY better than owls at just about everything, but apparently they are so much better at delivering letters that my pigeons are basically the Necron to your owl’s Ava.

Or maybe my pigeons are the Maggie to your owl’s Baal 🤔

Or the heart attack to your Dynamo 🤔

Or the Vain to...well...you 🤔

Sorry about that. Hope that’s not too soon.

N-E-Way, we totes have this, like, EPIC Co Op match coming up and I just wanted to touch on a few bases. First of all, thank SO MUCH for the shoes! Like, I’ve already written three blogs about them and sent, like, a shit-ton of flowers to you (Winefred ❤️s U!), but I still think that needs to be addressed more. Like, a whole lot of people look at us and are all “Dayum! What’s that hawt-as-hell albino vamp queen and her almost-as-hawt much MUCH older sister doing out there?!” but WE know what we’re about, ya know? Like, you’re WAY too old to be my sister, so you have to be my auntie. I mean, not like Kylie old, because ew, but still SU-PER old. And slow because of all the arthritis. And a little off mentally because of the Alzheimer's. But other than that, we’re all about the killer shoes, cute-as-FUCK shirts, great food, etc.

Real quick, wanted to shoot you a thanks. Remember how I asked you last year to get the Coalition staff to stop calling me Sarah Wylde? Ya know, that whole “You’re Lucy daughter” bit, right? Well, thanks! Whatever you did, it totally worked. I haven’t had a SINGLE person tell me that I look like Lucy’s daughter since I came back! Mind you, that might be because Lucy’s aesthetic these days is “worn out coke whore who is five seconds away from slitting her wrists for attention” and I’m still my amazeballs self. I wonder if THAT is what happens when you fuck a dumb useless cunt like Maggie for this long? 🤔

I wonder if Maggie’s debilitating injury that is keeping her out of Coalition competition will have ANY effect on the matches in her OTHER three companies? 🤔 She has already lost to ol’ Potter in 4CW, so I guess she should really listen to Jordan and NOT take the risk of getting hurt in that Carnage hardcore final. But, hey, is what it is, I guess?

Oh! Oh! And who the FUCK told Lucy that she could SING?! Did you HEAR that screeching during Maggie’s WrestleStock entrance?! My GOD! It was like listening to two beached Dynamos dying in the sun! Or a Kaden Kessler promo! Truthily, what DO you see in Kaden? He’s older than the sand in the Sahara! I hung out with his daughter a few times, we were chill, but then she got all mad at me for making fun of her dad and saying that MY daddy could beat up HER daddy (which he TOTES could have!) and that was kinda it for THAT friendship.

N-E-Ways, since you’re, like, obvs in charge around here, thanks for helping with that whole mom-daughter thing coming to an end!

Oh! Hey! Speaking of things coming to an end! Sorry about ending your Co Op run on Monday. Now, you KNOW that I think you look cute as all hell wearing the Co Op titles, and you KNOW that Jet is my #Outlast4LifeBuddy, but I DID tell you to keep them warm for me. I mean, sure, I DIDN’T win my second WrestleStock Open Cup like I had hoped, though I DID cement myself as the freakin’ GREATEST WrestleStock Open competitor there has ever been by getting to two straight finals, but the outcome is still the same:

Team Kickass will be the Coalition’s Co Op champions.

Here’s the dealio, Auntie: This Monday is going to be a bit of a shocker for you, and not the GOOD kind where you get THAT kind of action. I know that you sit and pontificate from your unnecessarily goth castle, ya know, the one where you keep what’s left of Killian locked away in a tower and the Gabster makes his mixed tapes of Cure, My Chemical Romance, and some of the more shitty Weezer tunes?

Oh! Snap! Real quick! One of my eyeliner pens has been missing since we all had lunch together at WrestleStock. Do me a huge fave and sneak into Baal’s blacklight-lit room, rummage around in his dresser drawer no doubt full of e-cigs and tear-soaked tissues, and see if he has it? Thanx! Love you! 😚

Shit...where was I...hold on…WrestleStock...beat Mizore in a COMPLETELY FAIR match...beat Dipshit JC...lost to dat sweet booty…

Oh! Right! Pontificating in your gothic lair!

So, I know that you’re doing the above and cackling about how you have the #CoolKids’ number. Probably while petting a hairless cat, or something. N-E-Way, the shocker coming on Monday is that, sure, you HAVE been able to defeat some #CoolKids combinations, but! Oh holy hell, BUT! You haven’t faced Team Kickass, and that’s like saying you KNOW what killer shoes are like because you have already worn a set of Gavriel’s (which are NICE!) but have never put your regularly pedicured and pampered feet into some Miu Miu (which are WAY better). Now, I probs totes just lost anyone NOT as shoe-savvy as us (lookin’ at you, Todd!), so let me break it down a different way:

Yes, you have faced a couple of #CoolKid combinations to a variety of success, but THOSE combos are not THE combo you are facing, and that is, like, a HUGE difference. See, the ubes realsies (just made realsies #AThing) is that the group you faced at Lord of Trios had a major flaw in Milisandre, and we WOULD have won the Trios if Mil had been replaced with either Kenzi (who was not available) or myself (still in my chair). Unfortunately, we won’t be able to prove that until NEXT year when we go to the finals again and meet up with you and whatever faction you are a part of next year. Cause, obvs, the Court won’t exist and you WILL be part of some other group in 7 months.

Now, I know you guys were all “ERMAHGERD WE’RE SO COOLIO” when you beat that cardboard cutout to win the Co OP titles, but you ran into a far more focused #CoolKids pairing at No Holds Barred, and no matter HOW people like Vain want to frame it, you guys lost the match and the titles. Rox and Angie beat you. Period.

Just like you beat them back at the Melee.

Oh! Oh! Real quick!

That whole ink gimmick? NOT COOL! 😡

Bad, Auntie! Bad!

Now, I’m all coolio with the poison mist bit. Daddy used his purple mist a whole lot (They called it “God’s Spit” back in ol’ SIN Wrestling), and I have used some red mist a few times (just ask Lucy!), but that ink thing SUCKED! I mean, all’s fair in love and war and all that, but do you realize how much of my Pitera SK-II face wash it took for me to scrub that stuff off Angie’s face? That shit’s almost $200 a bottle! And it took me SIX FREAKIN’ DAYS to scrub it off and make sure that she was all kinds of pretty for the next Synergy. Gah!

N-E-Ways, as far as I am concerned, you are only moderately successful against the #CoolKids, and since that success is indeed only moderate, you are REEEEEEEALLY in trouble on Monday. Because out of ALL the various combinations of the #CoolKids, what you face is the most dominant. Here, check this out, with special thanks to that badass team of penniless interns over at CoolTubeSource:

~~Various Combinations of #CoolKids and their relative awesomeness~~

Bully Sisters (Sar+Rox) - Teamwork capability: 17%
Dynamic and inflammatory, but prone to turning on one another for the smallest of reasons. 

Puss n’ Boots (Ken+Ang) - Teamwork capability: 25%
Individual championships galore, but little practical experience together

👠💩⬆️ (Sar+Ang) - Teamwork capability: 39%
The most meta of the team names, this combination also has no practical experience but has possibly the most natural teamwork for some reason I can’t quite put my well-manicured finger on.

RoxAng (Rox+Ang) - Teamwork capability: 83%
The inside joke makes me giggle like mad (ROOOOOOXXXXXXANNNNNNNNE), but these two together are former Co Op champions, and the teamwork percentages jump way up.

Clear Connection (Rox+Ken) - Teamwork capability: 89%
A powerful team who connect at a spiritual level, the two have quickly become tag champions in the horrendous state of North Carolina

Team Kickass (Ken+Sar) - Teamwork capability: 100%
Best friends from the moment they met, the Grey-Lacklans host a nearly flawless record with the single flaw being in a company whose office is REALLY touchy about their champions getting beat in non-title situations, and are the Undefeated Tag Champions of the Empire of Canda (#ItsAThing)

What does that mean for you and Jet? That of ALL the possible combinations you could face on Monday, you are facing the one who stands out above all others. You are facing the one who thinks with one mind, acts as one body. Like, there is this move we do? I come running in and am all “AHHHHHHHH!” and Kenzi comes from the other side and is all “AHHHHHHHHH!” and we both jump up and punch, doing this, like, double-ended supergirl punch thing, and then BLAMO! Falcon Punch and lights out for wherever gets nailed.

Now, I’m sure you’re all “WE ARE THE BESTEST TEAM” at this stage, but I have a sad bit of truth for you:

You aren’t. You simply are not. And here is why:

Devotion.

Everyone in the Coalition knows that some bad shit went down last year. A misguided boy did bad things to me and I got hurt. Really hurt. I was out of this world, lost in the dark, for almost two weeks. And you know who was there when I opened my eyes?

Mackenzie.

She was the light in my darkness, and not in some dumbass Twitter lesbian five day marriage way. She really was. At my bedside, she talked to me. Read outloud from both my Bible and her Green Volumes. Sang our wedding song to me over and over. And when I woke up but couldn’t move? When I couldn’t even wash myself? You know who was there to wash me and change me?

Mackenzie.

Know who was there when I needed to be picked up off the bed and put into my wheelchair (OF DOOM~!)?

Mackenzie.

Know who ran, literally dropped the shit in her hands and FUCKING RAN to get the doctors when I started to regain feeling in my feet?

Mackenzie.

Know who was there to help me stand for the first time, to put that cane with the cute pigeon head in my hand so I could take my first step in rehab?

Mackenzie.

Know who was there to celebrate my victories and cry with me during my failures during that rehab?

Mackenzie.

Know who is there, without question, without fault, without even a thought to her own wellbeing, for me?

Mackenzie.

Know who is NOT there for you when you need him most?

Jet.

Oh! Hey! Is he there? Can you, like, pass this over to him for a sec so I can talk to him? It's okay, I'll wait. I got this totes awesome new game where I have a kitty for a familiar and Angie is all KINDS of jealous. She left in a huff when I named the cat Ser Bobby, because she's still WAY mad at him for that time I let him take over the CoolTubeSource twitter account that one time. Hey, its not MY fault he let out her deepest, darkest secret that she's only 5'9 3/4"! So, yeah, pass this over to Jet and I'll just play my game for a bit.

Hey Jet? That you, buddy? SWEET! So, I just wanted to say hi. I know we haven't hung out in an AGE and I have really been hanging out with my Auntie more than you, and I would HATE for you to get all kinds of jelly belly, so I figured now would be a good time to catch up. Now, as you know, I've been at just about ALL the Synergys this year in the front row, though we DID miss one or two due to Angie's crazy-pants traveling schedule, and during all of that I have made sure to keep close tabs on you and ALL my Coalition buddies. So, yeah, I have watched that whole yo-yo thing you have been doing all year. You know, how you'd win some matches and then lose some matches, and then you went on that EPIC loosing streak with Auntie while you guys did a bunch of tagging. Of course, that was all capped off by getting pinned by Raab a couple of weeks ago, and Raab isn't much more that that idiot snowman in the Frozen movie (that's kinda meta though, because twitter, obvs), but at least you got that win back last week in the co op match! Well, Kem got it back for you anyway. Man, that must suck. Like, when you looked in the mirror afterward, how did you feel knowing that the only reason you got to the winner's circle was because of freakin' Fatty?!

Oh. Wait. But that's right. Your whole bit is about being the GREATEST co op champ of all time, huh? Like, it doesn't matter who or what, and you can win co op matches? Now, I'm not like some other people who are gonna be all "ermahgerd tags don't count" because those peeps are lamers. I know VERY well how difficult tag matches are, and I know VERY well how important they are! Seriously (still working on a short-hand for that word; I'll get back to you), just a quick look at my OWN record as a tag wrestler tells the same tale. I have won tag matches with a SHIT ton of people, including FOUR different partners in the Coalition. This match will make a FIFTH distinct partner and...AND...I have YET to lose a tag match here. Hell, I've actually only lost ONE! And on Monday, I will STAY undefeated in tag team competition within the Coalition, because every single advantage you have as this totes obvs legit co op badass is taken away because 1). Seven runs with the title means seven times you've dropped! And don't EVEN make me talk about how FEW successful defenses you have with all those reigns!

And 2). No matter WHAT! NO MATTER WHAT ! I will NOT allow the big return of Team Kickass on Monday to end up with our first loss in the Coalition. I will NOT disappoint my partner the way you have routinely disappointed all of yours over the years. I will NOT allow myself to be seen as someone who can't get the job done when it matters most! I will NOT allow people to think of me or Mackenzie the way they now do of you. I will NOT allow ANYONE to think that we can't get the job done without blatant cheating, tricks, shenanigans, or other dubious methods. I will NOT allow myself to walk away from Synergy without those titles around our waists and a reminder to EVERYONE in this company just how freakin' BADASS the #CooKids are.

Say "HELLO!" to Baal for me when you guys eventually have some insanely ridiculous over-the-top blow-off match that has a concept so convoluted that it makes all of our eyes roll as hard as when we watched you take off all those masks last week! Go ahead and pass the letter back to Auntie. Thanks!

Alright, where was I? Oh! So, that pic of me in my underwear I sent you-

Ah ha! Caught you!

I SAID PASS IT BACK, JET!

Thank you!

So, where was I? Oh! How Jet is in NO WAY going to be there for you when you need him. Again. Now, I’m NOT just talking about what went down at WresteStock. You know, the same weekend where the #CoolKids were proving their superiority and you guys were imploding? When Jet decided that he was going to be a “good guy” for about five seconds in a totes self-serving manner? Yeah, not even talking about that. I’m talking about all the bat-shit crazy stuff that happened between you guys in 2013 and 2014. You see, my benefactor-

Oh. Wait. Did you know I had a benefactor in the Coalition? I totes do! Like, he doesn’t give me money or anything. Not like he’s a sugar daddy or anything that you yourself would be used to. And its not like he made sure I got title shots or anything, in case dumbshits like Fatty want to be all “Look! She was given stuff!” Because NOTHING is handed to you in this company. But he IS a benefactor. He HAS had an interest in me since practically my first day in this company. He has offered...lets go with guidance...a handful of times. Was curious to what I would do if fully unleashed. Made suggestions for my Outlast draft list. Helped me focus at Battleground. Gave encouragement during my rehab.That kind of thing. And he said something to me in between quaffs of beer and a surprisingly viril string of profanities:

“...look no further than the highlights of 2013 and 2014…”

Now, I didn’t want to insult this NAMELESS benefactor by pointing out the fact that I was 15 or 16 during this time, but as you can imagine, I did my research. Now, 2013 and 2014 are interesting because

1). If I had known Kenzi THEN, I would have come to grips about my sexuality WAY before 2017, cause hot DAMN she was freakin’ CUUUUUUTE 😍

And 2). You two were FUCKED UP! Like, holy COW! Now, you’re probably all “Bitch, you are just guessing or assuming that we fucked each other up a lot,” and to that I say 1). That I’m both 😡 and 🤗 that you’d call me a bitch and 2). Bitch, I do my homework, ho!

Starting from the very FIRST time you were officially in the ring against each other (at least that my penniless interns at CoolTubeSource can find) in the main of Synergy in April of 2013 in what would be the precursor to the finish of your match at No Holds Barred (more on that in a bit!), to that night in October of last year when Jet slammed that chair into the head of Rogan to out himself as a member of the Court, you two have fought 15 times. FIFTEEN TIMES! And that’s not EVEN factoring in all the times you two played the “tag partners who don’t get along” trope, or bumped uglies (ew) in the Melee, or just ended up in a brawl. You two have beat the fuck out of one another over the last few years, regardless of if titles were at stake, and have had so many matches end in some kind of uncontrollable bedlam that its beyond imagination! Well, not really. Out of those 15, 8 either went to a no decision or was some kind of multiman jerkfest that neither of you won.

And don’t EVEN get me STARTED on that Valhalla Burial Match? That thing was all SORTS of cray-cray! Jet flying through the air and you moving out of the way just in time for him to basically kill himself in that pile of weapons and then get floated out to sea? I mean, if I were you, I would TOTES be afraid that he NEVER forgot about that. Or forgave you for that. No matter WHAT you guys have agreed to since then. Like, that’s how I am, ya know? My FAR better half is all “I forgive EVERYTHING!” but I’m all “I forgive NOTHING!” and I was abs be worried that Jet is the same.

Though, the thing that REALLY sticks out in my mind, even after that straight-up gross match back in the day, is that on my VERY FIRST day in this company, when I debuted in the Massive Melee last year, the world title match was between you two. You won (obvs) in what is a common theme: When things REALLY matter and you are involved, Jet just doesn’t have what it takes. And that is something that is going to come into play on Monday. Because I know that, if it was YOU who needed to have what it took, if it was YOU who needed to be the hero and save the championships for what is left of the Court, then you WOULD have it in you, you WOULD be the hero. But Jet?

He won’t be there for you.

See, whereas my wife and I have a relationship built on trust and the aforementioned devotion, you two, not matter WHAT you guys say or agree to, have a relationship built on resentment and jealousy. From your dealings with the Syndicate where you kicked his ass (and other people’s) every week, to his inability to beat you when a title was on the line, to him being VERY MUCH the bagboy of the Court, there is a seed of anger and resentment that led to what happened at WrestleStock. And that seed, which has sprouted beautifully across these years, is what is going to cost you on Monday.

So here we are, auntie. This isn’t about whether or not you are good or skilled enough. Obvs you are, totes, because you’re you, ya know? Same with Jet, Mr. I Have Lost the Co Op Title More Times Than Anyone in History. And no matter how petty anyone may wish to be, there is no doubting the skills of my Beloved and I, as we have racked up championships in companies that don’t matter and both have some awesome achievement banners of our own in this one. It doesn’t come down to who is “better.” It doesn’t even come down to who “wants” it more, as regardless of how you feel about random, ordinary Synergy matches, we ALL know that you will be at your best on Monday with both titles and pride on the line. Instead, it comes down to who can cooperate better.

Here’s the dealio: I’m going to call my shot. Just like when I announced my entrance into the WrestleStock this year and called the shot that, should the final again be a triple threat, it would be an All #CoolKids Final and we would give the BEST match of the festival (right on both counts!), I am going to call my shot right now:

I am going to bounce off the ropes and be all “AHHHHHHH!”

Mackenzie is going to bounce off the ropes on the other side and be all “AHHHHHHH!”

We are going to push off our right feet and thrust our arms forward, catching your pretty (if kinda-sorta wrinkled) face in between our twin supergirl punches.

Somewhere in the distance, a falcon will cry out in proud triumph.

You will crumble to the mat.

I’ll drop down into the lateral press. Hook your left leg with my arm, your right in my own leg for good measure, and Mr. Green will hit the mat.

1, he will slap.

No Jet.

2, he will slap.

No Jet.

3, he will slap.

No Jet.

Because when it matters most, my #Outlast4LifeBuddy Jet will NOT be there for you. He will NOT be where you need him to be. Because that seed of jealousy, resentment, and probably a little hatred, will burst into the disappointment of you losing your titles to a team who move, think, and live as one in a world of devotion.

And after that? After we are announced the new Co Op champs?

You’ll stare at me. I’ll stare back. We’ll both be breathing hard, covered in sweat, taxed after giving, without doubt, the best match of the year.

And you’ll shake my goddamn hand.

And then we’ll, like, give all kinds of sweaty hugs, and probably start ugly crying, ‘cause you’re gonna be all “ERMAHGERD I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!” and I’m gonna be all “THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BELIEVING IN ME” and then we’ll go out to get ice cream and shoes. You know, the usual.

There it is, Auntie. Because I am who I have always said I am. My Beloved is the fierce fighter I have always said she is. We, and our #CoolKids sistren, are exactly who we have always said we are.

Mind my flames, Auntie. I would hate to see you get burned.

Well, again. Because Vain. Sorry, too soon?

LOOOOOOVE YOUUUUUUUUUUU

Your obedient,

SSG-L

---

---

“Oh...oh god…”

Sarah collapsed to the mat of the gym in a heap, sweaty limps fumbling like overcooked spaghetti. Her typical gym attire, the set of black sports bra and shorts which were both far too thin for decent eyes, were soaked from her exertion. Her eyes were shut, but she could hear her “sistren” continuing on without her, the stomp and slide of the lunges echoing in the room.

She slowly opened her eyes, even that seeming an unbearable burden, and saw that the three women had already far outpaced her.

Angie Vaughn, the leggy blonde of legend, in front due to her superior stride.

Roxy Cotton, the sound of bubble gum being smack and bubbles popped even as she exercised, right behind her.

Kenzi Grey, far shorter than the other two, taking up the rear.

Sarah tried to keep her eyes off that “rear” as they did their lunges, but, as always, it proved difficult. Sarah had wanted Kenzi from the moment she met her, had been dazzled by the starlet’s personality, enthralled by her physique, and determined to bring out the fierceness that lay below the surface. She had never expected to gain a wife when she had started her plan of seduction, but there it was. Her life completely.

Sarah struggled to her feet as Angie hit the wall and turned, three full strides ahead before Kenzi hit the same spot. Stars danced in front of Sarah’s red eyes as her legs wobbled beneath her and nearly sent her back down to the floor. Not for the first time, she wondered if Kenzi had made a mistake in choosing her to be a partner for this Co Op match against Eden and Jet. Angie had already won the Co Op titles and was on a tear lately, and Roxy, while not taking very many Coalition bookings, rarely lost and had just won the Queen City titles with Kenzi. Surely either one of their fellow #CoolKids would have been a better choice than the vlogger who hadn’t been cleared to wrestle full-time, yet?

Sarah shook her head to push away those doubts. And then nearly fell again as her head spun and the stars came back.

Deep breaths.

Her vision cleared, she felt fine once the three joined her again at the halfway point.

“Break time!” said Angie, a smile on her face. “Sers Alex and Bobby need their yummies!”

Angie, one of those girls who Sarah had had an immediate, and somewhat confusing, connection with at even the first glance, bounded away and out of the private aerobics room in the gym and to the children’s play area, where her kitties were spending time with their “cousin,” Hasenpfeffer. The owners of the gym had balked at first at the idea of two cats and a dwarf bunny rabbit taking some space in the play area, but a not-so-subtle name drop of Kenzi had them nearly bowing and scraping.

“Finally. I need to make sure my mom didn’t drink the champagne, too.”

Sarah didn’t feel any sadness for Roxy’s less than warm relationship with her mom. Issues with mothers seemed to be a common theme within their group, but Sarah would give anything for five minutes with the mother she never met. So no, no sadness for the Barbie Doll and her mom.

With Roxy headed out the door, Sarah is able to turn to Kenzi. Her heart fluttered as Kenzi smiled at her while reaching for a water bottle. It always did. People loved to joke and jest about Sarah looking at other people, most likely to get under her skin, but there was never any doubt about how she felt about her wife. Pure devotion.

“Sorry I didn’t make it all the way,” she said, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. At times like this, when she had taxed herself, much of the nerve issues came back. Her hands shook a little. Her voice was a touch weak. But she could do this. “It won’t happen on Monday. Promise. You and me as champs again!”

Kenzi shook her head violently as she drank from a water bottle, her long braids flingin about wildly from her head.

“Baby! Don-”

“Shit up and let me talk!”

Sarah tried to keep the heat out of her voice but was not completely able to. Kenzi was supportive, perhaps too much so, and sometimes had difficulty embracing reality.

“Listen, Beloved. Lets not kid ourselves: I’m not 100%. Close! But not 100%. Of course, my 75% is better than most people’s 90%, obvs, and my 66 ⅓% is better than most people’s 85%. And I’m no math wizard, because fuck THAT shit, but I am pretty sure I saw a study that says that even my 51% is better than 73% of 90% of the roster. But still! You could have gone with Ang, or Roxy, or-”

Sarah is silenced by a sudden kiss. Kenzi swoops in and presses their lips together for a moment, smirking when she pulls off, which caused Sar to break into giggles and the odd sound in her voice that sounds awfully like purring.

“Knew that would do it,” she said, smirking even more. “I chose you because we are in this together. From the Candaian Empire to your ‘home’ of UGWC.”

She leaned forward again to press their foreheads together, and both women closed their eyes and reveled in the intimate action which had been such an important part of their relationship, even from early on.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you wanted to go for the Co Op titles if you had won the Cup?”

Kenzi’s voice is a whisper as she asks, and both girls keep their eyes shut and heads pressed together as Sarah takes a moment to think.

“I...I didn’t…”

She pauses as her voice wavers.

“I didn’t want to get your hopes up in case I lost to Mizore in the first round. In case I fell on my face.”

Kenzi breathes deeply.

“You’ll never fall on your face. My hand will always be there to catch you. Always.”

Unbeknownst to Sarah, Kenzi’s eyes open and her brown irises are suddenly full of mischief.

“Now, if we’re talking bent over though, my hand will always be there to smack that ass.”

Sarah’s eyes open wide and her pale cheeks start to turn scarlet.

“Wha-”

Kenzi spins her around and gives Sarah a full-arm swat on her ass, the SLAP! echoing in the hall.

“MINES!”

Sarah turns around, fury in her eyes mixing with the embarrassment, and opens her mouth to no doubt let loose a loud and expletive-filled retort, but just then the door opens and their blonde friends return.

“Hey Sar, why is your face so red? You okay?”

While Angie might well be clueless, one look from Roxy’s, green eyes shooting from Kenzi’s smirk to Sarah’s cheeks, showed her immediate understanding. Sarah’s face turned so scarlet from embarrassment that it was threatening to turn purple.

“L-lets just get b-back to it!”

Kenzi chuckled, making sure to sneak Sarah a look that promised far more for her tag team and life partner later, and back to training the four went.

---

---

Sarah Lacklan slipped onto the balcony of the hotel she stayed in with her spouse Kenzi. The Waldorf in Beverly Hills was opulent, perhaps even as beautiful as the mansion she grew up in on the East Coast, but what mattered most about it was the wife who slept in their bed. She closed the sliding glass door quietly and set the duffle bag in her hand softly to the ground so as not to make too much noise. She wore little, only a loose negligee of red that hung on her shoulders, with her long hair pulled up into a beehive bun to stay off her neck, and was glad for it; she would never get used to the summer heat, even now at well after midnight, that she had been living in the past two years. Both the nature of her albinism and the nurture of the “Lacklanland” compound in Maine had built her for a cool environment, and there was little “cool” about Southern California, particularly in July.

Red eyes underneath thick lenses took in the landscape of her new home, took in the massive houses known as mega mansions which often took up an entire property, took in the streets lined by palm trees. Certainly no palm trees in Maine.

Sarah reaches down and unzips the bag, bright white hands reaching in and pulling out a pack of cigarettes, one of Black 13’s exclusive “Coffin Nails,” and a well-worn Zippo lighter with a purple scythe painted on top. She pulls out a cigarette, flicks the lighter open and closed quickly with a practiced movement, and sighs as she takes her first drag. Her entire body relaxes as the smoke leaves her lips, as if tension from bearing the weight of the world simply melted away. She closes her eyes a moment, the weight of her glasses on her nose temporarily forgotten, and her pale face fills with peace and serenity.

Holding the cigarette stiff between her lips, she opens her eyes and reaches back into her back and pulls out several items: A white mask in the shape of an owl’s face, a small pad of paper, and an ornate pen ending in a peacock’s feather. She places the mask on the ledge before her and takes a moment to regard it. Mostly plain, the mask clearly emotes the stern face of the nightbird, but in a flash of color, its eyes are painted red and small black lines push out away from the sides of its eyes in “wings.” Soft grey smoke billows around the mask for many moments as Sarah regards it, studies it, thinks upon it.

“I hate you.”

The Londoner accent is jarring as it assaults the quiet air of the night.

“You have no idea what you represent. No idea about how deep your ideals call to me, sing to me. No idea how much of you is in my blood. No idea how much I hate you.”

She takes a deep drag of her cigarette and start pacing, back and forth, back and forth, along the balcony. Fifteen steps one way. Turn. Fifteen steps the other.

“Do you know what it was like growing up in that compound? I was a princess. Legitimately! Servants to hand me six dolls for every one I dropped. Servants flogged if my milk was even a shade too hot or cold. My whims, no matter if they were simple or extravagant, were met with expediency. I was looked to by an entire religious community as the heir to the Voice of God himself.”

Back and forth. Steps growing heavy, turning to stomps, hands beginning to wave with agitation, the lit end of the cigarette flaring with every swipe.

“I believed it all, of course. Every bit. I was the fire that Daddy was going to leave behind. He was setting up the world and I was going to burn it all down. I was the Blood Princess, after all, the spoooooky vampire who was so pale that she glowed in the dark. It wasn’t until I got older that I started to think for myself.”

She stops suddenly and stares down at the mask.

“Do you know what it’s like to realize that your father and community are fucking crazy?! My God! I grew up believing that Jews were Satan’s lovers, blacks were here to carry things, the gays were made to torture for our pleasure, and anyone with a skin tone darker than moonlight was not worthy of even meeting my eyes. People think that Westboro is bad, but they have NOTHING on us! Hell, we’re worse than them and the size of Waco!”

She puffs from her cigarette in rapid short bursts.

“Not until I was 16, ya know? Not until I got to meet people and see them with my own eyes. And then when I turned 19…”

She trails off and looks back into the suite.

“I met her. My whole world changed. My foundations crumbled. And I chose to be who I am and not who I was born to be. But YOU!”

She turns back to the mask in a flash, those odd red eyes flaring.

“You keep calling me back! You and your ideals of making the Coalition crumble so that you can lead them. That is EXACTLY what Daddy did. That is EXACTLY what he wanted. And oh, you all may THINK that you are masters of deception and intrigue, but you would be dancing a mighty gig for him if he were alive! And now here you are, trying to rip and pull the Blood Princess out of me and unleash her on the world.”

She shakes her head, annoyance flashing on her face as some of her hair slips from of the bun to land on a glistening shoulder.

“I don’t want you. I don’t want what you represent. I don’t to fight the way you fight. I don’t want to-”

Red eyes glisten suddenly with unshed tears.

“I don’t want to be the person I was born to be.”

She plops down onto the balcony floor before the mask and runs her hands against her face, fingers pushing the glasses to her brow so that she can rub her eyes as the the smoke of the cigarette stings them.

“But still you call me…” she whispers in the darkness. “You sing to me.”

A small bit of mirthless laughter escapes her lips.

“Eden Morgan really could be my aunt. I mean, her hair is far too dark, but the way she moves...the way she acts…”

She shakes her head.

“...she could have been one of Daddy’s whores…”

She looks up from her hands, staring at the mask at equal heights.

“I won’t join you. Not if it means hurting Kenzi. NOTHING is worth that cost. I will NEVER hurt her again. But on Monday? When Team Kickass rises again and faces the Court? I will PROVE that I WOULD belong, though. When we take those Co Op titles, I will PROVE to King that I am far more than Random Blonde #5. I will PROVE to the Good Doctor that I am more than some simple-minded vlogger. I will PROVE to Jet that he made a mistake by not having faith in me and tapping out so fast at Outlast. I will PROVE to Eden that I have ALWAYS been worthy of her notice. I will PROVE-”

She pauses for a second to take a deep breath.

“-that I do NOT need you.”

She stares at the mask in silence for a few moments, then she takes the pen and pad of paper in hand and quickly writes a small letter. The red ink still shows her fine hand, even if it was more wobbly since her accident, but far more legible than when the shaking had been severe in the beginning.

Twitter. Synergy. WrestleStock. Cool Kids.

I DO hope you appreciate the chaos I have sown, Sir.

Your obedient,

SSG-L

Standing, she delicately folds the paper as she makes a ticking noise with her tongue against the back of her throat. A flourish of wings announces the arrival of one of her prized carrier pigeons, the bird’s feathers as moonlight white as her own skin. She attaches the letter to the pigeon’s foot, leans in an whispers into the bird’s ear, and then presses her lips to its head in a kiss. She watches as the bird takes flight and speeds away to its query. Sarah leans back and takes a deep drag from her cigarette and slowly lets the smoke out through pursed lips.

“I see you…”

She takes another deep drag before letting the smoke plume out into the warm night air.

“...Ichabod.”

~~FIN~~