Post by LACKLAN on Mar 22, 2019 14:29:38 GMT -5
The dark eyes of Zane Scott find letters written on a letter. While this was not the strangest thing he had seen in the world, as a surprising amount of people over the years at UGWC liked to hand-write letters to one another, the writing itself was filled with oddities. Mostly written in a fair hand with looping letters, there was also a lot of script that was in bold letters that looked nothing like the others, each written with so much pressure that tiny holes could be found in the paper whenever there was a dot for an i.
But at least this letter was delivered by an actual postman and not a pigeon or snail or any other such things. As his own opponent was fond of saying:
Be thankful for small victories.
Monsieur Scott,
I wish I could have started this letter with a “Dear Scott,” or perhaps even a “Dearest Zane,” but I believe that our relationship, whatever it was before, has been forever changed. I understand, as I am sure you do to some extent, that finding friends in this business is difficult, and while I have come to lose faith in how your perceive my house and my faith, I believed that there was some sort of honor, or perhaps camaraderie between use. Alas, as I day of my party and celebration grows near, and yours is NOT an RSVP returned, I begin to understand that, no, you are not and can not be a friend, you pussy little bitch.
Nonetheless, I find myself compelled to pen you. We are approaching a day which needs to be recognized, a day which needs to be held with the correct amount of tribute. The Lord of Trios. The day that I fucked over EVERYONE in my path became the Chaos Champion and when I skull-fucked by defeating Mizore with my 8-inch black cock of death and beginning my legacy. As I have said before, your use of Global Dollars you self-important fuckwad to introduce my happy talents to the world set in motion the events which lead us to here, and I find myself thinking back on that day in quiet reverie.
While some might think of Trios as the arrival of the Harvester what a piece of shit loser HE turned out to be or perhaps the momentary ascension of the Court gonna jerk off and cry about Eden some more, pussy?, or perhaps even still your own successful defense of your World Title a triple threat against Deimos and Rydell? Hope the load from Donovan that you sucked down to get that easy match didn’t taste too bitter, posterity will see it for what it truly was: The rise of the Champion of Chaos. And unfortunately for you...and for the Vaughn girl...THIS year’s Trios will again be known for me. You will NOT be able to win a second year in a row no midcarders in this match, Zany-Poo, I feel that Vaughn WILL repeat her “almost did it” success of last year’s loss in the tournament final fucking twitter WEED lesbians. And it is I, and I alone, who will repeat their success from the prior year, and change the world.
The cruel reality for everyone, dear sir, is that this match is NOT about the world championship. I know that YOU think it is because: dipshit, and I know that VAUGHN thinks it is also: dipshit, but the truth of the matter is that the world champion...the TRUE world’s champion, has never held that title. The TRUE world’s champion has held a DIFFERENT title. The Chaos championship. Because I am the REAL world’s champion, Zane. Over the course of the last fifteen months, I have proven week in and out what a REAL champion looks like. While YOU were the triple champion after Hastings vacated the title slurp slurp, your fall from grace was so sudden and complete that even YOU think you should stay out of title pictures can’t slurp Ichy?. And Vaughn? Well, let me put it this way:
What did she do after she won the title? What did she do when she climbed that mountain?
She the pussy took a week off.
Not even Vain did that. When Vain won, he was on Chill to remind the world of who he was. But Vaughn? She plays the game of picking and choosing with an alacrity bonus points for the $5 word, right? that would make even Eden grab the lotion and tissues! turn green with envy. And what did she do AFTER her time off?
Lose. You’ve been doing that a lot lately too, Zaney-Poo!
A champion does not lose. A champion does not disappear. A champion does NOT do what Vaughn has done since winning that title! though, in blondie’s defense, that IS the precedent all of you “legends” enjoy setting, so maybe that’s YOUR fault?And that is NOT what I do! That is NOT the path that I give to the world! And it is because of that, it is because of the DOMINANCE I have shown, again and again and again and again, Zaney. This is UGWC match number 50 in fifteen months. Can YOU say that? Can ANY OF YOU BULLSHIT LEGENDS?!, that I have the courage and strength to stand tall at the end of Trios with two championships in my hand.
I have said before that I care little for the world championship, and my opinion still stands. At a time when the value of the title was being tarnished by being an accessory in a domestic dispute love when people jerk off to “writing” retweets, I was standing tall as the Champion of Chaos. When the title was a prop for a man too busy to bother showing up sorry, fans! But we don’t give a FUCK what you want to see! Just bend over and take same shit, different day WITH A FUCKING SMILE, I was defeating people both propped up by the machine and those who would employ that dreaded copy/paste combo. But now I am ready to give the world what it WANTS. What it NEEDS.
The Chaos Championship.
The World Championship.
Combined. did you jerk off to that with methodical grace, stern chin, and your “Supposition for Dummies” handbook? You should have. Better than snakes and serpents
No longer will we have to deal with Angelica Vaughn, the Champion of Disappointment! No longer will we have to deal with Angelica Vaughn, the Champion of Midcard Hell! No longer will we have to deal with a woman who defeated a tired and weary Vain with a lackluster performance that would NOT have been enough in any of his other defenses. It is a difficult thing in this business to defeat a champion in their first defense, but you will be graced with this event on Monday.
But do you know what I find funny? Know what makes me laugh at night?
It won’t matter to you.
At some point last year, Maggie Lockhart before she shit all OVER your fed and people licked her ass clean with a smile! told Vain that, no matter what happened in their Cross-Hemisphere match, he would still win. Even if he lost. He eventually lost sort of? Like how the Court lost at WrestleStock yet somehow got to keep their titles. He walked away. Didn’t care. Just...left. And thus, he was able to claim that he was never defeated while Lockhart defeated a tired and sad version of Somers who should never have been in the match. And you?
Even when you lose and I become the champion?
You will just fail upward, won’t you?
It will all just work out in the end.
You do not want to be given title shots yet enter a tournament designed to give a title shot? maybe you can find a “Get Myself Out of this Plot Hole for Dummies?”
Shocking that you have found yourself in this match after so many failures. And I will be happy to help you “fail upward” again by becoming the world champion so that you can be gifted another title match.
I only hope that you produce a promo about the correct opponent this time. “This week you get Kenzi and Miss Cotton” should be your epitaph
No platitudes, sir. No allegories or parables. No time left. Just the Champion of Chaos walking into that arena on Monday and giving the entire business something they deserve and have not had for a very VERY long time:
A World Champion they can be proud of. And no matter how many times you find yourself in position to hold a championship SLUUUURP, I will be there to make sure that each and every one of your upward failures is met by the person who refuses to let the mediocre tryhard edgelord bitches of the world have even ONE MOMENT of my light.
The viewers of the United Global Wrestling Alliance have been privy to the compound owned by the Lacklan family, affectionately known as “Lacklanland” by many, several times over the past nearly two years. Sarah showed Lucy at In Your Hands so that she could, both literally and figuratively, feel the dirt of her home in her hands. Sarah invited her Outlast team to a night of time-bending team building. Bordy stood atop the hill overlooking the training ground to prepare for Zane, and then later ascended her throne. We have seen galas, parties, masquerades, hot dog eating contests, a Cheshire Chewie, and even an “Escape” that left most people’s heads scratching over whether or not it should even count as a promotional video. And now tonight we return to the religious compound that is home to the Path of the Light Church for a special event quietly known as “Bordy’s Birthday Bash.”
Letters were sent out weeks ago, each bearing the trademark craftsmanship of the Lacklanland Paper Company, meaning that the paper was somehow both sturdy and velvety to the touch. The letters not only advertised the event, but also politely, yet firmly, requested the receiver’s presence, along with a very kind set of options for food, including chicken, beef, fish, and vegetarian options. Gifts were not specified, as that would be poor form, but the word around town was it would be a VERY smart idea to bring them, as this celebration was for far more than simply a birthday! This day would also cement the Matron of the Manor’s place in wrestling history...if even only until someone else broke her record some time down the road.
Opulence and pageantry were the names of the scene, as all you UGWC viewers have come to expect from this place where madness reigns. With architecture from the 14th century and colors sending the mind to a castle in the dead of a fantasy winter, the Lacklan Manor played host to dignitaries from both the city of Bangor and the State of Maine, including the president of the state senate, Senator Jackson. Dresses plucked from the bombastity of New York’s fashion week, hats ripped from a royal wedding, and tuxedos with tails, each seemed to be more pompous than the last.
Until the eyes of the UGWC viewer found the wrestlers in attendance. Then, even the most crazed party-goer found themselves muted in the face of true larger-than-life personalities. The servants of the manor were not caught unawares, of course, for they had seen these splashes of color and more in their time, but any virgin to a Lacklan gala would certainly be aghast at the sight of so many colorful individuals.
But the queen? The honoree of the evening? Not only was she not surprised by the assembled athletes and entertainers: She made sure to work the room and spend a few moments of her precious time with them as thanks for their attendance.
Top Five SHITTY GIFTS, as rated by the CoolRankings chapter of the Shit Gift Society
“SET SAIL ON THE OCEAN OF AWESOME BECAUSE THE CAPTAIN IS HERE FOR THE QUEEN OF VERMILLION’S PARTY”
Click!
“TRAVEL WITH ME AS I CROSS THE SEA OF TIME IN MY EPIC EPOCH MACHINE”
Click!
“RAISE THE HAMMER OF (HASHTAG#) SEXUAL DESTRUCTION”
Click!
“MY CAT’S BREATH SMELLS LIKE CAT FOOD”
Click!
Aveline Lacklan sighs as she stares at the Captain 80’s doll in her hand. The starburst on the package promised “100 Different Sayings!” and she hoped that no one would notice when she “accidentally” dropped her birthday present into a vat of acid.
Johnny Bonecrusher, manager to a motley crew of “stars” over the years that even an episode of Chill would look lame beside it, fails to keep the scowl off his face.
“Whole bunch of nonsense, if you ask me!”
Dressed in a suit with a powerfully orange tie, the aging man with the short graying hair looks around him at the pageantry of the party and shakes his head over and over.
“Balderdash, I say! Gobblygook!”
Next to him, bound and gagged for the safety of literally everyone in general and a certain buxom “head legionette” in particular, Hide Yamazaki growls and chews on the strap in his mouth. With feral eyes and lips covered in so much spittle that even a murderous, rabies-infected St. Bernard jealous, “Deathwish” asked a question in his madness that prompted a response from the loudmouth JBC.
“Harumph! Harumph, I say! And let me make one thing-”
He thrusts his finger into the air.
“PERFECTLY CLEAR! The LAST time I was here was for JPL’s funeral, and I thought it was BE the last! How did I let you talk me into coming to this party, Yamazaki? How?!”
Deathwish growls and drools in response, to which Johnny waves his hands in frustration.
“That’s ridiculous! We weren’t friends! Hell, he HIT ME in the HEAD with his HAMMER! From BEHIND, might I add! And I-”
“Monsieur Bonecrusher.”
Johnny’s mouth closes as he turns and takes in the site of Aveline Lacklan. His were not the only eyes to drink her in, not the only mouth to find a loss of both words and moisture. Aveline was dressed in a gown as green as her eyes, a strong emerald which seemed to catch the light of the chandeliers in lights innumerable, and her platinum hair, freshly bleached by the way it shone like the light atop the house leading to salvation for lost ships, was tall in her hive. The towering Redmaine, dressed in his fur-lined vest despite the dress code made as CLEAR as any point of Bonecrusher’s on the invitation, walked behind her, a darkness in her wake. Her steps were light, as if she were ready to dance at a moment’s notice, and she approached the pair with a grace befitting her station.
“Ava.”
A slight twitch of Aveline’s head, and a scrunch of her face, appears and disappeared so quickly that Johnny had doubt whether or not he even saw it in the first place.
“You may call me Aveline, Bonecrusher. You have earned that right.”
Johnny sighs as Aveline turns to Yamazaki and adopts a look of distaste on her face.
“Your servant…”
She turns back to Johnny and offers him a small nod.
“I must apologize for not making the time sooner. I had not initially realized that the ruffian on Chill was represented by an old friend, but I should have welcomed you here as soon as I heard. I have been...occupied...lately.”
Johnny mumbles to himself, the word “friend” being uttered with an obvious tone of doubt, but Aveline doesn't’ seem to notice.
“Texas was a long time ago, but your honor stands.”
She smiles as the small group of string players begin to play another set.
“Save a dance for me.”
Johnny looks at Aveline with a side eye as she turns and walks slowly, and then he shakes his head.
“Bah! She’s just as crazy as HE was!”
The sight of Angelica Vaughn did not bring any joy to Aveline Lacklan, even IF the girl’s face shown with joy. She did her best not to sigh as the girl handed her a box that was heavier than it looked, dressed with a silver bow.
“You’re going to LOVE it!”
The cheery voice of her future opponent made her want to grind her teeth, but she had promised any and all peace during the party, and she must obey her own rules. She pulls the edge of the bow.
“Remember how you bought me that new Bible for my birthday last year? Your note was a little condescending, tee bee aitch, but you can never have too many! So I thought that YOU could use a new one!”
Aveline takes the lid off the box but her emerald eyes cannot process what they are seeing.
“...what?”
“Its a graphic novel...”
Angie reaches into the box and pulls out the brightest Bible in the history of the Word.
“...where KITTIES are all the people!”
Aveline eyes are wide with shock and her mouth drops open. Meanwhile, Angie opens the book to a random page to show that, yes, Job was a Calico riding in a boat and about to be swallowed by giant fish.
“...sa...sa...sacrilege…”
“Oh! And the BEST part!”
Angie flips to the front of the book where three long pieces of cloth are taped into place. She pulls them off to reveal that they are three tiny cat-faced sock puppets.
“Just like Sleepy Kitty!”
“...I...what…”
Angie flips to a random page and begins using the sock puppets to tell the story of Exodus.
“And the Trinity Kitties said ‘No more, Satan!’ and they WHOOSHED the water away! But then they were all ‘You shall not pass!’ like Darth Jar Jar in Guardians of Hogwarts to the Egyptians and brought the water back in.”
“...I…”
Angie flips further.
“And now here are the Trinity Kitties giving milk to Kitten Jesus in the manger. Meow!”
“...what…”
Angie flips to the end.
“Oh! And don’t forget YOUR favorite part! You can use the Trinity Kitties to rain down fire and ash onto the heathens after the Church is taken up into the Rapture!”
Poor Aveline walks away in a daze, as Angie’s fingers help the Trinity Kitties sock puppets play out Revelations.
Aveline Lacklan beems.
All around her, dignitaries from the state of Maine were congratulating her on her imminent placement in UGWC history as having been the Chaos Champion for more days across her career than any other. The countdown had begun at the turn of the year, with many within her camp driving and pushing her to continue to be the glorious example of light for the world of wrestling, and inch closer and closer to her target. Even on that day, when she sat back and saw what was attainable, she knew the road would be difficult. She would need to make at least two more retentions of her title, assuming there were no surprises from whoever the Creative Director would become, and last through the second annual Lord of the Trios.
She did.
She defeated Wrestley McWrestleface, yet another in a long line of people being granted title shots they did not deserve.
She defeated Zane, the fight purchased with her own Global Dollars, the monetary example of her success throughout the 2018 year.
And so, as the night neared midnight and the day was to turn, she was going to surpass-
A long, slow clap.
Heads turn to see the bald pate of Ichabod, UGWC legend and current Creative Director. The man who, until midnight this very night, holds the record she was to attain. He walks up to Aveline, who stands tall, and their eyes meet, his down at hers, hers up at his. With a wink, he flashes his hand forward and, with a flourish to confuse the eyes, produces a white cactus flower.
"Epiphyllum oxypetalum," he says with a smirk. Aveline’s head cocks to the side for a moment, her eyes narrowing in thought.
“‘Queen of the Night.’”
Ichabod smirks at the utterance of the flower’s common name and holds it out to her. Aveline reaches up and takes it, but pauses as she sees the twinkle in his eye. She returns the look with a flat stare.
“I am married, Sir.”
Ichabod’s smirk grows at the guarded and flat tone, then takes her hand as she takes the flower.
“I hear you waltz?”
While her late husband had taught her to waltz years ago in that very ballroom, there were many men she had danced with since, and there were many waltzes that night. The Queen of Red danced with many, from Bonecrusher to Severin to even the First Citizen Skeeter in a rare appearance, but the dance with Ichabod was certainly the strangest.
Roxy Cotton’s bubble gum snaps so hard that Aveline shook with a start.
“Here you go, bb. Just for you.”
Aveline takes the large box from the Peroxide Terror with a suspicious look on her face. The amity that the two women had once shared had been gone for months, and even though she had specifically designed vegan food options so that Roxy could attend the party, the Queen of Red was still wary of this “gift.” Roxy rolls her eyes and snaps her gum again at Aveline’s hesitation.
“It won’t bite you. Okay, it might.”
The box moves in Aveline’s hands and she has to hold on tight. She pulls the bright pink bow until it falls to the ground and removes the top. The thin and puffy head of a French poodle pops its head out of the box, causing Aveline to scream and nearly drop the box. Roxy smiles proudly and motions towards the dog.
“I got you a dog! I know that you’re all pathetic and lonely and haven’t gotten laid in years, or whatever, so I thought this...thing...could keep you company. Its all regal, and stuff. Comes from a long line of purebreds. Or inbreds. One of the two.”
Aveline looks up at Roxy with shock in her eyes.
“I don’t like dogs! I like CATS!”
Roxy shrugs.
“Same thing. Oh! And I heard that its ancestor used to be owned by Queen Elizabeth, or something, so that’s cool?”
Aveline’s face turns to anger.
“I’m French! Not ENGLISH!”
Roxy shrugs again.
“Same thing. Have fun!”
Roxy snaps her gum again and walks away, leaving poor Aveline with the poodle in her hands.
“You look terrible.”
Dexter Severin doesn’t look up from his cup. The glass of whiskey had been emptied and refilled many times, each being knocked back without a thought, each tasting like ash in his mouth. Nothing had flavor, anymore. Nothing had taste. The colors of the world were dull. The flowers smelled of nothing.
“I feel it.”
His voice is so rough that it hurts his own ears. It hurt to talk. To drink. To breathe. But still, he struggled one. Because she would want him too.
“Mind if I sit?”
He shrugs his shoulders.
“Your party.”
The rustle of silks covered in sequins fills his ears, but even that sounds muffled to him. Everything did. Music was nothing. Laughter? Tears? All the same.
“Do you have news to report?”
He sits silently for a time, his dull grey eyes staring into the remaining droplets of pale brown drink, and finally shakes his head. He can feel his hair moving against his forehead. He needed a haircut. Zoe always took care of that kind of thing for him.
“Nothing good. Bobbi got me in touch with Cunningham. Cunningham got me to the church.”
“How did she...look?”
Dexter almost smiles at the guarded tone of the question. Ava was confident in her position as the true wife of Ol’ Japles, which made sense since may of his old “wives” were gone, if not dead, but the first?
“Beautiful.”
It was the truth. Nori Nakama was a vision. A miko from the day she turned fourteen, Dexter could see in her what a young Lacklan would have. She was beautiful and strong-willed.
“And...and her…”
He nods, cutting off her question short.
“Her son. And his. Same hair. Same eyes.”
He can see Ava’s hand shaking on the tabletop as she digests the news.
“Will they come?”
He is silent. He likes the silence. He hates it, too. He can hear Zoe’s voice when it’s silent. She’s loud when it’s silent.
“No.”
He finally looks up from his drink to take in emerald eyes.
“If you want to control this family, you’ll need to prove it to her. Prove you're worthy of his name."
Emerald eyes harden.
“At Trios...I WILL.”
She pushes up out of her chair and stomps away. A servant approaches and refills his glass. His eyes find themselves back into the pool of brown. He likes the silence it brings.
“Oh STEP-MUMSIEEEEEEE!”
Aveline shut her eyes and groaned through gritted teeth. With a voice akin to the banshee screaming through the Binn Chaorach hills, her step-daughter was unmistakable, as well as the distinctive Clack! of the cane along with her heeled boots. The Queen of Red opens her eyes and sees the monstrosity before her and tries not to growl. The two of them had a frosty first meeting six years ago, but had quickly begun to like one another, with the then-teenager learning things from her that could never be taught by her late mother. But that then led to their fights over the attention and affections of her husband, the girl’s father, and that had led-
Aveline forcibly pushes away the memories of THAT place.
And now, after dealing with one another directly for nearly a year, the two had somewhat of a truce. A bargain. They both saw that uniting their family was paramount and so they fought the same fight from different angles.
If only the sinful wretch understood what Aveline had planned.
“I’ve got your BIIIIRTHAYYYYY PRESEEEEENT!”
The girl wove her hand in the air, her ridiculously large and clunky phone clasped within. Aveline let out a breath she did not realize she was holding and tried to put a smile on her face. After the fool dog from that fool Cotton...which might well end up in the acid pit alongside the doll of himself Captain 80’s had delivered to her...an honest present sounded wonderful.
“Thank you, child. I-”
“Lookie lookie!”
Sarah slides her way over so that they could be side by side and looking at her outdated Windows phone. The sight of the Edge browser was foreign to her, but she was pretty sure it was foreign to just about everyone.
“So, like, the other day, right? There was this MASSIVE loss of data on this outdated social media company, right? Like, after getting sold off to someone for pennies on the dollar? They totes lost a TON of stuff from a server crash or something, right? But guess what?”
“What are you-”
Aveline’s mouth runs dry as Sarah’s fingers click on her phone and bring up a page. A page that she had not seen in a very
very
VERY
long time.
“The Legion was able to save your MySpace page!”
Aveline’s cheeks turn bright red.
“Ya know, there are a LOT of nudes on this thing! Like, nearly every single THING you posted was about you having drunken sex-”
Aveline see’s Sarah’s face harden in her peripheal vision.
“-with my father. And….OOPS!”
She clicks another button.
“I JUST sent a link to this page to Donovan Hastings. My bad!”
Aveline starts to shake as her face turns near the shade of a stop sign. Which is when the phone in her purse starts buzzing like it was in the middle of a beehive. Sarah gives her shoulder a tight squeeze.
“Happy birthday!”
The vicious, villainous, DEMONIC girl walks away, the clicking and clacking of her cane like thunder in her ears, as her very public admirer’s desire is, going by the seven messages he has already left, rekindled anew.
Aveline staggers after Sarah, her mind falling into a daze. This MUST be a joke. It HAD to be. That was NOT her. That was NOT Aveline Lacklan. That was someone else! That was Ava Qu-
She stops suddenly, her heart racing, her head pounding.
Lets smash some nuts, puddin’!
She shakes her head, pushing away the voice and memories. She looks up and sees the wisp of red, black, and bright white that was unmistakably her step-daughter and pursues her. She pushes past dignitaries offering their congratulations, past servants offering refreshments, past peers and coworkers, until she finds a clearing in the hall dominated by the mantel and the fireplace. And there she found her dreaded step-daughter...and most of her friends.
Sarah wore one of her ridiculous Firestarter dresses, of course, but it so did Angie Vaughn, the world champion’s bright eyes...her husband’s eyes...matching the blue dress with trailing petticoats. Her leggings had stars for some reason, probably a subtle jab at who the real star of the evening was, and she was even taller in a set of heels. Kenzi Grey-Lacklan was inappropriately dressed in a short skirt and tube top that showed her surprisingly sculpted abdominal muscles, but that was nothing next to Roxy Cotton’s outfit that was open in the front from her neck and down to her waist, the inner portion of her breasts clear for everyone to lust over. She does not recognize the short dirty blonde who was standing next to Kenzi, but she assumes she just some other slut who defies the word of God.
Some of their Hitgirls friends were also there, with the docile Coda sitting in a chair with a blank look on her face, and that disgusting Chase woman texting on her phone, no doubt to whoever her equally disgusting Girlfriend of the Month was today. Aveline wished Honey was there, as she quite liked the woman, especially since Sarah seemed to be bothered by her so. She should arrange for Sarah and Honey to spend more time together; after all, a playdate or two with the charming Ms Smith would probably do her step-daughter some good.
Her eyes scan over the group, prepared to do whatever she needed to do to make that WRETCHED child delete that FILTH from all those years ago, but they lock onto the set which has called out to her from the moment she saw them over a year ago.
Blue eyes.
His blue eyes.
HIS BLUE EYES
“Vaughn. Walk with me.”
A technique well-used by the family, it was not a request or a demand. Something in the middle, in the between. Just like her. She was the Edge. The Blade. The neither or. And after a look to her three friends, the world champion gives a shrug and walks with her.
Silence.
Silence.
Away from it all.
Away from the group.
From the partygoers.
From the people trying to gain favor by being there.
From
Rip out her eyes and put them on the shelf!
“Are you okay?”
Aveline can feel the sweat on her face. It travels down her brow. Stings her eyes. She wipes it away to see the Vaughn girl in front of her, looking down with honest concern etched into her face.
Rip them out and STOMP ON THEM
“I’m fine.”
They walk in silence.
“He would be proud of you.”
Silence.
“I know.”
Silence.
“He IS proud of you.”
Silence.
“I know.”
Silence.
“But he will be MORE proud of me.”
Silence as she walks further. She stops when she realizes the silence is deeper than before. No footfalls to match her own. She turns and sees Angie standing tall, her face defiant.
CLAW THEM OUT
“I will defeat you, Angelica Vaughn.”
The champion’s chin raises slightly, her blood giving her a posture of defiance and strength that her nurturing could never provide.
“I will defeat you, Aveline Lacklan.”
She tilts her head to the side.
“Do you fear your sister?”
Silence.
“I love her.”
She feels her smile grow large enough to touch her eyes.
“Then why do you not tell her? You have known for...what...nine months? More?”
The champion stays silent as the footfalls of coming servants join them in the hall.
”Je vous le dirai quand je serai prêt."
As the servants approach, Aveline lets out a small laugh.
”Le raisin se fane sur la vigne."
The servants join them in the hall, women dressed in the black livery of the House of Lacklan, each with two stripes of silver and a smaller one in purple showing their rank.
“If you do not soon...I will.”
Angie’s eyes slightly grow larger.
“Et alors vous craindrez l'enfant démon."
Angie’s strength does not waver.
The face of Aveline Lacklan was akin to a cloud full of thunder. The party had dragged on...and on...and on...and every gift she had received had been terrible. From the current Creative Director’s amateur puppet mastery to the previous Creative Director blowing up her phone with crude suggestions over what he was doing with the mortifying pictures from her old social media footprint, she had not had a single bright moment in the evening. And it was about to get worse.
“Hi, Mom!”
Kenzi Grey-Lacklan sauntered over to her with a drunken sway in her step that spoke of several organic Michelob Ultra having gone down her gullet. Drinking was the devil, of course, and her sinful step daughter-in-law stunk of sin. Aveline shivers as Kenzi stumbles into her, placing her hand on her shoulder to steady herself, and looks up into brown eyes heavy with haze.
“I wanted to give you your birthday gift!”
Aveline shudders as the putrid stench of disgusting beer hit her in the face, and she cried on the inside as thoughts of what OTHER smells might be mixed into her acrid breath. Lesbians were, as she had said over and again, the WORST.
“See...my wife...you know her...she has been NAGGING me and NAGGING me about something, and I’m all ‘Bitch! Enough with the nagging!’ but it NEVER stops. So I am FINALLY giving in. She has this...thing...about wanting me to ‘embrace’ the other half of my name, whatever that’s supposed to mean. So, I figured...why not?”
Aveline raises one of her eyebrows as Kenzi drives on.
“Why not?! Why not EMBRACE the Nationalist agenda? What not EMBRACE the anti-Semitism and racism? Why not EMBRACE doing things like beating people up with weapons to get your way? Why NOT make my wife happy?!”
Aveline opens her mouth to speak, but Kenzi continues on with her slur and the words stop her cold.
“Sar was devastated when we found out she couldn’t have kids. Cried for days. But me?”
Kenzi smirks but her eyes suddenly shine.
“I was happy. I don’t want kids. I hate kids. I hated BEING a kid. But Sar…?”
A tear rolls down Kenzi’s check and she brushes it away with her sleeve.
“Talk about selfish. I am so FUCKING selfish. I say that I will do ANYTHING to make her happy...work myself to death...but I wouldn’t do THIS…?”
Her sad smirk becomes a smile as she brushes away another tear.
“She deserves better. WE deserve better. So, I’m going to give her...and you...what we all deserve.”
The haze in Kenzi’s eyes suddenly dissipates and they fill with a sober light.
“A rightful and proper heir to the throne of my father-in-law.”
Aveline’s eyes go wide as Kenzi takes a step toward her.
“I’m guessing that shriveled up cunt of yours isn’t shitting out any kids, or else you would have had one a long time ago.”
Aveline’s face turns red as Kenzi takes another step.
“So, in a couple of years...I’ll give my wife...my Beloved...what she literally prays for…”
Kenzi’s eyes are alight with fire and wetness as she gets in Aveline’s face, her chin raised slightly to meet the taller woman’s gaze.
“A beautiful…brown...baby.”
She suddenly lunges forward and clutches Aveline in a tight hug.
“Happy birthday, bitch!”
Kenzi pushes off Aveline and staggers away, wiping at her face, and the Queen of Red can do nothing but stare at the departing woman with a mixture of rage, shock, and fear weighing her down.
But at least this letter was delivered by an actual postman and not a pigeon or snail or any other such things. As his own opponent was fond of saying:
Be thankful for small victories.
Monsieur Scott,
I wish I could have started this letter with a “Dear Scott,” or perhaps even a “Dearest Zane,” but I believe that our relationship, whatever it was before, has been forever changed. I understand, as I am sure you do to some extent, that finding friends in this business is difficult, and while I have come to lose faith in how your perceive my house and my faith, I believed that there was some sort of honor, or perhaps camaraderie between use. Alas, as I day of my party and celebration grows near, and yours is NOT an RSVP returned, I begin to understand that, no, you are not and can not be a friend, you pussy little bitch.
Nonetheless, I find myself compelled to pen you. We are approaching a day which needs to be recognized, a day which needs to be held with the correct amount of tribute. The Lord of Trios. The day that I fucked over EVERYONE in my path became the Chaos Champion and when I skull-fucked by defeating Mizore with my 8-inch black cock of death and beginning my legacy. As I have said before, your use of Global Dollars you self-important fuckwad to introduce my happy talents to the world set in motion the events which lead us to here, and I find myself thinking back on that day in quiet reverie.
While some might think of Trios as the arrival of the Harvester what a piece of shit loser HE turned out to be or perhaps the momentary ascension of the Court gonna jerk off and cry about Eden some more, pussy?, or perhaps even still your own successful defense of your World Title a triple threat against Deimos and Rydell? Hope the load from Donovan that you sucked down to get that easy match didn’t taste too bitter, posterity will see it for what it truly was: The rise of the Champion of Chaos. And unfortunately for you...and for the Vaughn girl...THIS year’s Trios will again be known for me. You will NOT be able to win a second year in a row no midcarders in this match, Zany-Poo, I feel that Vaughn WILL repeat her “almost did it” success of last year’s loss in the tournament final fucking twitter WEED lesbians. And it is I, and I alone, who will repeat their success from the prior year, and change the world.
The cruel reality for everyone, dear sir, is that this match is NOT about the world championship. I know that YOU think it is because: dipshit, and I know that VAUGHN thinks it is also: dipshit, but the truth of the matter is that the world champion...the TRUE world’s champion, has never held that title. The TRUE world’s champion has held a DIFFERENT title. The Chaos championship. Because I am the REAL world’s champion, Zane. Over the course of the last fifteen months, I have proven week in and out what a REAL champion looks like. While YOU were the triple champion after Hastings vacated the title slurp slurp, your fall from grace was so sudden and complete that even YOU think you should stay out of title pictures can’t slurp Ichy?. And Vaughn? Well, let me put it this way:
What did she do after she won the title? What did she do when she climbed that mountain?
She the pussy took a week off.
Not even Vain did that. When Vain won, he was on Chill to remind the world of who he was. But Vaughn? She plays the game of picking and choosing with an alacrity bonus points for the $5 word, right? that would make even Eden grab the lotion and tissues! turn green with envy. And what did she do AFTER her time off?
Lose. You’ve been doing that a lot lately too, Zaney-Poo!
A champion does not lose. A champion does not disappear. A champion does NOT do what Vaughn has done since winning that title! though, in blondie’s defense, that IS the precedent all of you “legends” enjoy setting, so maybe that’s YOUR fault?And that is NOT what I do! That is NOT the path that I give to the world! And it is because of that, it is because of the DOMINANCE I have shown, again and again and again and again, Zaney. This is UGWC match number 50 in fifteen months. Can YOU say that? Can ANY OF YOU BULLSHIT LEGENDS?!, that I have the courage and strength to stand tall at the end of Trios with two championships in my hand.
I have said before that I care little for the world championship, and my opinion still stands. At a time when the value of the title was being tarnished by being an accessory in a domestic dispute love when people jerk off to “writing” retweets, I was standing tall as the Champion of Chaos. When the title was a prop for a man too busy to bother showing up sorry, fans! But we don’t give a FUCK what you want to see! Just bend over and take same shit, different day WITH A FUCKING SMILE, I was defeating people both propped up by the machine and those who would employ that dreaded copy/paste combo. But now I am ready to give the world what it WANTS. What it NEEDS.
The Chaos Championship.
The World Championship.
Combined. did you jerk off to that with methodical grace, stern chin, and your “Supposition for Dummies” handbook? You should have. Better than snakes and serpents
No longer will we have to deal with Angelica Vaughn, the Champion of Disappointment! No longer will we have to deal with Angelica Vaughn, the Champion of Midcard Hell! No longer will we have to deal with a woman who defeated a tired and weary Vain with a lackluster performance that would NOT have been enough in any of his other defenses. It is a difficult thing in this business to defeat a champion in their first defense, but you will be graced with this event on Monday.
But do you know what I find funny? Know what makes me laugh at night?
It won’t matter to you.
At some point last year, Maggie Lockhart before she shit all OVER your fed and people licked her ass clean with a smile! told Vain that, no matter what happened in their Cross-Hemisphere match, he would still win. Even if he lost. He eventually lost sort of? Like how the Court lost at WrestleStock yet somehow got to keep their titles. He walked away. Didn’t care. Just...left. And thus, he was able to claim that he was never defeated while Lockhart defeated a tired and sad version of Somers who should never have been in the match. And you?
Even when you lose and I become the champion?
You will just fail upward, won’t you?
It will all just work out in the end.
You do not want to be given title shots yet enter a tournament designed to give a title shot? maybe you can find a “Get Myself Out of this Plot Hole for Dummies?”
Shocking that you have found yourself in this match after so many failures. And I will be happy to help you “fail upward” again by becoming the world champion so that you can be gifted another title match.
I only hope that you produce a promo about the correct opponent this time. “This week you get Kenzi and Miss Cotton” should be your epitaph
No platitudes, sir. No allegories or parables. No time left. Just the Champion of Chaos walking into that arena on Monday and giving the entire business something they deserve and have not had for a very VERY long time:
A World Champion they can be proud of. And no matter how many times you find yourself in position to hold a championship SLUUUURP, I will be there to make sure that each and every one of your upward failures is met by the person who refuses to let the mediocre tryhard edgelord bitches of the world have even ONE MOMENT of my light.
The viewers of the United Global Wrestling Alliance have been privy to the compound owned by the Lacklan family, affectionately known as “Lacklanland” by many, several times over the past nearly two years. Sarah showed Lucy at In Your Hands so that she could, both literally and figuratively, feel the dirt of her home in her hands. Sarah invited her Outlast team to a night of time-bending team building. Bordy stood atop the hill overlooking the training ground to prepare for Zane, and then later ascended her throne. We have seen galas, parties, masquerades, hot dog eating contests, a Cheshire Chewie, and even an “Escape” that left most people’s heads scratching over whether or not it should even count as a promotional video. And now tonight we return to the religious compound that is home to the Path of the Light Church for a special event quietly known as “Bordy’s Birthday Bash.”
Letters were sent out weeks ago, each bearing the trademark craftsmanship of the Lacklanland Paper Company, meaning that the paper was somehow both sturdy and velvety to the touch. The letters not only advertised the event, but also politely, yet firmly, requested the receiver’s presence, along with a very kind set of options for food, including chicken, beef, fish, and vegetarian options. Gifts were not specified, as that would be poor form, but the word around town was it would be a VERY smart idea to bring them, as this celebration was for far more than simply a birthday! This day would also cement the Matron of the Manor’s place in wrestling history...if even only until someone else broke her record some time down the road.
Opulence and pageantry were the names of the scene, as all you UGWC viewers have come to expect from this place where madness reigns. With architecture from the 14th century and colors sending the mind to a castle in the dead of a fantasy winter, the Lacklan Manor played host to dignitaries from both the city of Bangor and the State of Maine, including the president of the state senate, Senator Jackson. Dresses plucked from the bombastity of New York’s fashion week, hats ripped from a royal wedding, and tuxedos with tails, each seemed to be more pompous than the last.
Until the eyes of the UGWC viewer found the wrestlers in attendance. Then, even the most crazed party-goer found themselves muted in the face of true larger-than-life personalities. The servants of the manor were not caught unawares, of course, for they had seen these splashes of color and more in their time, but any virgin to a Lacklan gala would certainly be aghast at the sight of so many colorful individuals.
But the queen? The honoree of the evening? Not only was she not surprised by the assembled athletes and entertainers: She made sure to work the room and spend a few moments of her precious time with them as thanks for their attendance.
Top Five SHITTY GIFTS, as rated by the CoolRankings chapter of the Shit Gift Society
Number Five
“SET SAIL ON THE OCEAN OF AWESOME BECAUSE THE CAPTAIN IS HERE FOR THE QUEEN OF VERMILLION’S PARTY”
Click!
“TRAVEL WITH ME AS I CROSS THE SEA OF TIME IN MY EPIC EPOCH MACHINE”
Click!
“RAISE THE HAMMER OF (HASHTAG#) SEXUAL DESTRUCTION”
Click!
“MY CAT’S BREATH SMELLS LIKE CAT FOOD”
Click!
Aveline Lacklan sighs as she stares at the Captain 80’s doll in her hand. The starburst on the package promised “100 Different Sayings!” and she hoped that no one would notice when she “accidentally” dropped her birthday present into a vat of acid.
Johnny Bonecrusher, manager to a motley crew of “stars” over the years that even an episode of Chill would look lame beside it, fails to keep the scowl off his face.
“Whole bunch of nonsense, if you ask me!”
Dressed in a suit with a powerfully orange tie, the aging man with the short graying hair looks around him at the pageantry of the party and shakes his head over and over.
“Balderdash, I say! Gobblygook!”
Next to him, bound and gagged for the safety of literally everyone in general and a certain buxom “head legionette” in particular, Hide Yamazaki growls and chews on the strap in his mouth. With feral eyes and lips covered in so much spittle that even a murderous, rabies-infected St. Bernard jealous, “Deathwish” asked a question in his madness that prompted a response from the loudmouth JBC.
“Harumph! Harumph, I say! And let me make one thing-”
He thrusts his finger into the air.
“PERFECTLY CLEAR! The LAST time I was here was for JPL’s funeral, and I thought it was BE the last! How did I let you talk me into coming to this party, Yamazaki? How?!”
Deathwish growls and drools in response, to which Johnny waves his hands in frustration.
“That’s ridiculous! We weren’t friends! Hell, he HIT ME in the HEAD with his HAMMER! From BEHIND, might I add! And I-”
“Monsieur Bonecrusher.”
Johnny’s mouth closes as he turns and takes in the site of Aveline Lacklan. His were not the only eyes to drink her in, not the only mouth to find a loss of both words and moisture. Aveline was dressed in a gown as green as her eyes, a strong emerald which seemed to catch the light of the chandeliers in lights innumerable, and her platinum hair, freshly bleached by the way it shone like the light atop the house leading to salvation for lost ships, was tall in her hive. The towering Redmaine, dressed in his fur-lined vest despite the dress code made as CLEAR as any point of Bonecrusher’s on the invitation, walked behind her, a darkness in her wake. Her steps were light, as if she were ready to dance at a moment’s notice, and she approached the pair with a grace befitting her station.
“Ava.”
A slight twitch of Aveline’s head, and a scrunch of her face, appears and disappeared so quickly that Johnny had doubt whether or not he even saw it in the first place.
“You may call me Aveline, Bonecrusher. You have earned that right.”
Johnny sighs as Aveline turns to Yamazaki and adopts a look of distaste on her face.
“Your servant…”
She turns back to Johnny and offers him a small nod.
“I must apologize for not making the time sooner. I had not initially realized that the ruffian on Chill was represented by an old friend, but I should have welcomed you here as soon as I heard. I have been...occupied...lately.”
Johnny mumbles to himself, the word “friend” being uttered with an obvious tone of doubt, but Aveline doesn't’ seem to notice.
“Texas was a long time ago, but your honor stands.”
She smiles as the small group of string players begin to play another set.
“Save a dance for me.”
Johnny looks at Aveline with a side eye as she turns and walks slowly, and then he shakes his head.
“Bah! She’s just as crazy as HE was!”
Top Five SHITTY GIFTS, as rated by the CoolRankings chapter of the Shit Gift Society
Number Four
The sight of Angelica Vaughn did not bring any joy to Aveline Lacklan, even IF the girl’s face shown with joy. She did her best not to sigh as the girl handed her a box that was heavier than it looked, dressed with a silver bow.
“You’re going to LOVE it!”
The cheery voice of her future opponent made her want to grind her teeth, but she had promised any and all peace during the party, and she must obey her own rules. She pulls the edge of the bow.
“Remember how you bought me that new Bible for my birthday last year? Your note was a little condescending, tee bee aitch, but you can never have too many! So I thought that YOU could use a new one!”
Aveline takes the lid off the box but her emerald eyes cannot process what they are seeing.
“...what?”
“Its a graphic novel...”
Angie reaches into the box and pulls out the brightest Bible in the history of the Word.
“...where KITTIES are all the people!”
Aveline eyes are wide with shock and her mouth drops open. Meanwhile, Angie opens the book to a random page to show that, yes, Job was a Calico riding in a boat and about to be swallowed by giant fish.
“...sa...sa...sacrilege…”
“Oh! And the BEST part!”
Angie flips to the front of the book where three long pieces of cloth are taped into place. She pulls them off to reveal that they are three tiny cat-faced sock puppets.
“Just like Sleepy Kitty!”
“...I...what…”
Angie flips to a random page and begins using the sock puppets to tell the story of Exodus.
“And the Trinity Kitties said ‘No more, Satan!’ and they WHOOSHED the water away! But then they were all ‘You shall not pass!’ like Darth Jar Jar in Guardians of Hogwarts to the Egyptians and brought the water back in.”
“...I…”
Angie flips further.
“And now here are the Trinity Kitties giving milk to Kitten Jesus in the manger. Meow!”
“...what…”
Angie flips to the end.
“Oh! And don’t forget YOUR favorite part! You can use the Trinity Kitties to rain down fire and ash onto the heathens after the Church is taken up into the Rapture!”
Poor Aveline walks away in a daze, as Angie’s fingers help the Trinity Kitties sock puppets play out Revelations.
Aveline Lacklan beems.
All around her, dignitaries from the state of Maine were congratulating her on her imminent placement in UGWC history as having been the Chaos Champion for more days across her career than any other. The countdown had begun at the turn of the year, with many within her camp driving and pushing her to continue to be the glorious example of light for the world of wrestling, and inch closer and closer to her target. Even on that day, when she sat back and saw what was attainable, she knew the road would be difficult. She would need to make at least two more retentions of her title, assuming there were no surprises from whoever the Creative Director would become, and last through the second annual Lord of the Trios.
She did.
She defeated Wrestley McWrestleface, yet another in a long line of people being granted title shots they did not deserve.
She defeated Zane, the fight purchased with her own Global Dollars, the monetary example of her success throughout the 2018 year.
And so, as the night neared midnight and the day was to turn, she was going to surpass-
A long, slow clap.
Heads turn to see the bald pate of Ichabod, UGWC legend and current Creative Director. The man who, until midnight this very night, holds the record she was to attain. He walks up to Aveline, who stands tall, and their eyes meet, his down at hers, hers up at his. With a wink, he flashes his hand forward and, with a flourish to confuse the eyes, produces a white cactus flower.
"Epiphyllum oxypetalum," he says with a smirk. Aveline’s head cocks to the side for a moment, her eyes narrowing in thought.
“‘Queen of the Night.’”
Ichabod smirks at the utterance of the flower’s common name and holds it out to her. Aveline reaches up and takes it, but pauses as she sees the twinkle in his eye. She returns the look with a flat stare.
“I am married, Sir.”
Ichabod’s smirk grows at the guarded and flat tone, then takes her hand as she takes the flower.
“I hear you waltz?”
While her late husband had taught her to waltz years ago in that very ballroom, there were many men she had danced with since, and there were many waltzes that night. The Queen of Red danced with many, from Bonecrusher to Severin to even the First Citizen Skeeter in a rare appearance, but the dance with Ichabod was certainly the strangest.
Top Five SHITTY GIFTS, as rated by the CoolRankings chapter of the Shit Gift Society
Number Three
Roxy Cotton’s bubble gum snaps so hard that Aveline shook with a start.
“Here you go, bb. Just for you.”
Aveline takes the large box from the Peroxide Terror with a suspicious look on her face. The amity that the two women had once shared had been gone for months, and even though she had specifically designed vegan food options so that Roxy could attend the party, the Queen of Red was still wary of this “gift.” Roxy rolls her eyes and snaps her gum again at Aveline’s hesitation.
“It won’t bite you. Okay, it might.”
The box moves in Aveline’s hands and she has to hold on tight. She pulls the bright pink bow until it falls to the ground and removes the top. The thin and puffy head of a French poodle pops its head out of the box, causing Aveline to scream and nearly drop the box. Roxy smiles proudly and motions towards the dog.
“I got you a dog! I know that you’re all pathetic and lonely and haven’t gotten laid in years, or whatever, so I thought this...thing...could keep you company. Its all regal, and stuff. Comes from a long line of purebreds. Or inbreds. One of the two.”
Aveline looks up at Roxy with shock in her eyes.
“I don’t like dogs! I like CATS!”
Roxy shrugs.
“Same thing. Oh! And I heard that its ancestor used to be owned by Queen Elizabeth, or something, so that’s cool?”
Aveline’s face turns to anger.
“I’m French! Not ENGLISH!”
Roxy shrugs again.
“Same thing. Have fun!”
Roxy snaps her gum again and walks away, leaving poor Aveline with the poodle in her hands.
“You look terrible.”
Dexter Severin doesn’t look up from his cup. The glass of whiskey had been emptied and refilled many times, each being knocked back without a thought, each tasting like ash in his mouth. Nothing had flavor, anymore. Nothing had taste. The colors of the world were dull. The flowers smelled of nothing.
“I feel it.”
His voice is so rough that it hurts his own ears. It hurt to talk. To drink. To breathe. But still, he struggled one. Because she would want him too.
“Mind if I sit?”
He shrugs his shoulders.
“Your party.”
The rustle of silks covered in sequins fills his ears, but even that sounds muffled to him. Everything did. Music was nothing. Laughter? Tears? All the same.
“Do you have news to report?”
He sits silently for a time, his dull grey eyes staring into the remaining droplets of pale brown drink, and finally shakes his head. He can feel his hair moving against his forehead. He needed a haircut. Zoe always took care of that kind of thing for him.
“Nothing good. Bobbi got me in touch with Cunningham. Cunningham got me to the church.”
“How did she...look?”
Dexter almost smiles at the guarded tone of the question. Ava was confident in her position as the true wife of Ol’ Japles, which made sense since may of his old “wives” were gone, if not dead, but the first?
“Beautiful.”
It was the truth. Nori Nakama was a vision. A miko from the day she turned fourteen, Dexter could see in her what a young Lacklan would have. She was beautiful and strong-willed.
“And...and her…”
He nods, cutting off her question short.
“Her son. And his. Same hair. Same eyes.”
He can see Ava’s hand shaking on the tabletop as she digests the news.
“Will they come?”
He is silent. He likes the silence. He hates it, too. He can hear Zoe’s voice when it’s silent. She’s loud when it’s silent.
“No.”
He finally looks up from his drink to take in emerald eyes.
“If you want to control this family, you’ll need to prove it to her. Prove you're worthy of his name."
Emerald eyes harden.
“At Trios...I WILL.”
She pushes up out of her chair and stomps away. A servant approaches and refills his glass. His eyes find themselves back into the pool of brown. He likes the silence it brings.
Top Five SHITTY GIFTS, as rated by the CoolRankings chapter of the Shit Gift Society
Number Two
“Oh STEP-MUMSIEEEEEEE!”
Aveline shut her eyes and groaned through gritted teeth. With a voice akin to the banshee screaming through the Binn Chaorach hills, her step-daughter was unmistakable, as well as the distinctive Clack! of the cane along with her heeled boots. The Queen of Red opens her eyes and sees the monstrosity before her and tries not to growl. The two of them had a frosty first meeting six years ago, but had quickly begun to like one another, with the then-teenager learning things from her that could never be taught by her late mother. But that then led to their fights over the attention and affections of her husband, the girl’s father, and that had led-
Aveline forcibly pushes away the memories of THAT place.
And now, after dealing with one another directly for nearly a year, the two had somewhat of a truce. A bargain. They both saw that uniting their family was paramount and so they fought the same fight from different angles.
If only the sinful wretch understood what Aveline had planned.
“I’ve got your BIIIIRTHAYYYYY PRESEEEEENT!”
The girl wove her hand in the air, her ridiculously large and clunky phone clasped within. Aveline let out a breath she did not realize she was holding and tried to put a smile on her face. After the fool dog from that fool Cotton...which might well end up in the acid pit alongside the doll of himself Captain 80’s had delivered to her...an honest present sounded wonderful.
“Thank you, child. I-”
“Lookie lookie!”
Sarah slides her way over so that they could be side by side and looking at her outdated Windows phone. The sight of the Edge browser was foreign to her, but she was pretty sure it was foreign to just about everyone.
“So, like, the other day, right? There was this MASSIVE loss of data on this outdated social media company, right? Like, after getting sold off to someone for pennies on the dollar? They totes lost a TON of stuff from a server crash or something, right? But guess what?”
“What are you-”
Aveline’s mouth runs dry as Sarah’s fingers click on her phone and bring up a page. A page that she had not seen in a very
very
VERY
long time.
“The Legion was able to save your MySpace page!”
Aveline’s cheeks turn bright red.
“Ya know, there are a LOT of nudes on this thing! Like, nearly every single THING you posted was about you having drunken sex-”
Aveline see’s Sarah’s face harden in her peripheal vision.
“-with my father. And….OOPS!”
She clicks another button.
“I JUST sent a link to this page to Donovan Hastings. My bad!”
Aveline starts to shake as her face turns near the shade of a stop sign. Which is when the phone in her purse starts buzzing like it was in the middle of a beehive. Sarah gives her shoulder a tight squeeze.
“Happy birthday!”
The vicious, villainous, DEMONIC girl walks away, the clicking and clacking of her cane like thunder in her ears, as her very public admirer’s desire is, going by the seven messages he has already left, rekindled anew.
Aveline staggers after Sarah, her mind falling into a daze. This MUST be a joke. It HAD to be. That was NOT her. That was NOT Aveline Lacklan. That was someone else! That was Ava Qu-
She stops suddenly, her heart racing, her head pounding.
Lets smash some nuts, puddin’!
She shakes her head, pushing away the voice and memories. She looks up and sees the wisp of red, black, and bright white that was unmistakably her step-daughter and pursues her. She pushes past dignitaries offering their congratulations, past servants offering refreshments, past peers and coworkers, until she finds a clearing in the hall dominated by the mantel and the fireplace. And there she found her dreaded step-daughter...and most of her friends.
Sarah wore one of her ridiculous Firestarter dresses, of course, but it so did Angie Vaughn, the world champion’s bright eyes...her husband’s eyes...matching the blue dress with trailing petticoats. Her leggings had stars for some reason, probably a subtle jab at who the real star of the evening was, and she was even taller in a set of heels. Kenzi Grey-Lacklan was inappropriately dressed in a short skirt and tube top that showed her surprisingly sculpted abdominal muscles, but that was nothing next to Roxy Cotton’s outfit that was open in the front from her neck and down to her waist, the inner portion of her breasts clear for everyone to lust over. She does not recognize the short dirty blonde who was standing next to Kenzi, but she assumes she just some other slut who defies the word of God.
Some of their Hitgirls friends were also there, with the docile Coda sitting in a chair with a blank look on her face, and that disgusting Chase woman texting on her phone, no doubt to whoever her equally disgusting Girlfriend of the Month was today. Aveline wished Honey was there, as she quite liked the woman, especially since Sarah seemed to be bothered by her so. She should arrange for Sarah and Honey to spend more time together; after all, a playdate or two with the charming Ms Smith would probably do her step-daughter some good.
Her eyes scan over the group, prepared to do whatever she needed to do to make that WRETCHED child delete that FILTH from all those years ago, but they lock onto the set which has called out to her from the moment she saw them over a year ago.
Blue eyes.
His blue eyes.
HIS BLUE EYES
“Vaughn. Walk with me.”
A technique well-used by the family, it was not a request or a demand. Something in the middle, in the between. Just like her. She was the Edge. The Blade. The neither or. And after a look to her three friends, the world champion gives a shrug and walks with her.
Silence.
Silence.
Away from it all.
Away from the group.
From the partygoers.
From the people trying to gain favor by being there.
From
Rip out her eyes and put them on the shelf!
“Are you okay?”
Aveline can feel the sweat on her face. It travels down her brow. Stings her eyes. She wipes it away to see the Vaughn girl in front of her, looking down with honest concern etched into her face.
Rip them out and STOMP ON THEM
“I’m fine.”
They walk in silence.
“He would be proud of you.”
Silence.
“I know.”
Silence.
“He IS proud of you.”
Silence.
“I know.”
Silence.
“But he will be MORE proud of me.”
Silence as she walks further. She stops when she realizes the silence is deeper than before. No footfalls to match her own. She turns and sees Angie standing tall, her face defiant.
CLAW THEM OUT
“I will defeat you, Angelica Vaughn.”
The champion’s chin raises slightly, her blood giving her a posture of defiance and strength that her nurturing could never provide.
“I will defeat you, Aveline Lacklan.”
She tilts her head to the side.
“Do you fear your sister?”
Silence.
“I love her.”
She feels her smile grow large enough to touch her eyes.
“Then why do you not tell her? You have known for...what...nine months? More?”
The champion stays silent as the footfalls of coming servants join them in the hall.
”Je vous le dirai quand je serai prêt."
As the servants approach, Aveline lets out a small laugh.
”Le raisin se fane sur la vigne."
The servants join them in the hall, women dressed in the black livery of the House of Lacklan, each with two stripes of silver and a smaller one in purple showing their rank.
“If you do not soon...I will.”
Angie’s eyes slightly grow larger.
“Et alors vous craindrez l'enfant démon."
Angie’s strength does not waver.
Top Five SHITTY GIFTS, as rated by the CoolRankings chapter of the Shit Gift Society
Number One
The face of Aveline Lacklan was akin to a cloud full of thunder. The party had dragged on...and on...and on...and every gift she had received had been terrible. From the current Creative Director’s amateur puppet mastery to the previous Creative Director blowing up her phone with crude suggestions over what he was doing with the mortifying pictures from her old social media footprint, she had not had a single bright moment in the evening. And it was about to get worse.
“Hi, Mom!”
Kenzi Grey-Lacklan sauntered over to her with a drunken sway in her step that spoke of several organic Michelob Ultra having gone down her gullet. Drinking was the devil, of course, and her sinful step daughter-in-law stunk of sin. Aveline shivers as Kenzi stumbles into her, placing her hand on her shoulder to steady herself, and looks up into brown eyes heavy with haze.
“I wanted to give you your birthday gift!”
Aveline shudders as the putrid stench of disgusting beer hit her in the face, and she cried on the inside as thoughts of what OTHER smells might be mixed into her acrid breath. Lesbians were, as she had said over and again, the WORST.
“See...my wife...you know her...she has been NAGGING me and NAGGING me about something, and I’m all ‘Bitch! Enough with the nagging!’ but it NEVER stops. So I am FINALLY giving in. She has this...thing...about wanting me to ‘embrace’ the other half of my name, whatever that’s supposed to mean. So, I figured...why not?”
Aveline raises one of her eyebrows as Kenzi drives on.
“Why not?! Why not EMBRACE the Nationalist agenda? What not EMBRACE the anti-Semitism and racism? Why not EMBRACE doing things like beating people up with weapons to get your way? Why NOT make my wife happy?!”
Aveline opens her mouth to speak, but Kenzi continues on with her slur and the words stop her cold.
“Sar was devastated when we found out she couldn’t have kids. Cried for days. But me?”
Kenzi smirks but her eyes suddenly shine.
“I was happy. I don’t want kids. I hate kids. I hated BEING a kid. But Sar…?”
A tear rolls down Kenzi’s check and she brushes it away with her sleeve.
“Talk about selfish. I am so FUCKING selfish. I say that I will do ANYTHING to make her happy...work myself to death...but I wouldn’t do THIS…?”
Her sad smirk becomes a smile as she brushes away another tear.
“She deserves better. WE deserve better. So, I’m going to give her...and you...what we all deserve.”
The haze in Kenzi’s eyes suddenly dissipates and they fill with a sober light.
“A rightful and proper heir to the throne of my father-in-law.”
Aveline’s eyes go wide as Kenzi takes a step toward her.
“I’m guessing that shriveled up cunt of yours isn’t shitting out any kids, or else you would have had one a long time ago.”
Aveline’s face turns red as Kenzi takes another step.
“So, in a couple of years...I’ll give my wife...my Beloved...what she literally prays for…”
Kenzi’s eyes are alight with fire and wetness as she gets in Aveline’s face, her chin raised slightly to meet the taller woman’s gaze.
“A beautiful…brown...baby.”
She suddenly lunges forward and clutches Aveline in a tight hug.
“Happy birthday, bitch!”
Kenzi pushes off Aveline and staggers away, wiping at her face, and the Queen of Red can do nothing but stare at the departing woman with a mixture of rage, shock, and fear weighing her down.
Aveline Lacklan stumbles as she pushes through the people around her, passing entryway to the empty hall and further into the grand room. There were more people than before. Many people. The children were there. All the children. She wanted children.
Can’t have them! I TOOK TOO MANY DRUGS!
Her hands go to her stomach. She hurt inside.
It’s what I get! SORRY, PUDDIN’!
So many people. She looks up to the large grandfather clock. Almost midnight. Almost time.
Happy Birthday To Youuuuuu
Singing. Everyone singing. So loud. Even the children. They are beautiful.
Happy Birthday To Youuuuuu
Faces in the crowd. The ridiculous Captain. Chaos, both hands clutching beers. Her family of step-daughters.
Happy BIRRRTH DAYYYY
Kenzi is winking at her.
Evil BITCH
DEEEAAAARRRRR
Her head swims. Can’t breathe. The children are all dressed in their Sunday best. The Hitgirls. The Writer. Everyone
AAAAAAAAAA
She would prove her worth at Trios. She would-
VVVVVAAAAAAA
...let me out…
Haaaappyyyyyy
...I want out…
Birrrrrthdaaaayyyyyy
LET ME PLAY
toooooooo
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
Ava throws back her head and screams as loud as she can, her voice echoing throughout the halls. The singing comes a startled close, some voices still sneaking out a few notes of “you” as the scream goes on and on. When she finally stops, she turns her head back down and stares at the crowd, her head moving back and forth, her eyes wild as she takes in all of the people.
“Fuck my birthday!”
Her voice, angry and with an edge of madness, makes everyone jump.
“This isn’t about my BIRTHDAY! This isn’t about twenty nine years! This is about four GODDAMN YEARS away from my puddin’!”
Ava takes several steps forward and the crowd, from servants and dignitaries to the children’s choir to wrestlers, take steps backward, keeping their distance.
“But that all changes. It all gets MADE UP FOR. Because MONDAY! MONDAY makes up for EVERYTHING!”
She laughs suddenly, a laugh that is hearty enough to make her dance on her feet with quick, little steps.
“Did you know that I’ve only ever had ONE world title match? Only one. ONLY ONE! A triple threat match. Me...Corey Ashton...and my puddin’. Know what I did?”
She takes a threatening step towards the crowd, making many take another step back.
“KNOW WHAT I DID?! I set a Nazi on fire and danced in the flames with the World Champion! And now, I get to BE the world champion!”
She looks through the crowd, scanning with her mad eyes, until they settle on Angie Vaughn standing in a group with her friends.
“All of this time...ALL OF THIS YEAR...has been setting THIS up, Little Angie! ALL OF THIS! Ten times we have fought. TEN FUCKING TIMES. And all leading to this. ALL LEADING TO THIS.”
Her eyes look up at the grandfather clock as a bell is tolled. Midnight.
“I AM the Champion of Chaos! Longer than any other!”
Her eyes whip to the man known as Chaos, his hands still clutching his beers.
“YOUR record is next! Ichabod’s falls to ME and YOURS will as well! But first! FIRST!”
Her eyes turn to the children’s choir and her face softens.
“Want to know how Ms. Vaughn’s story ends? Want to know the last page of her upcoming novel? Want to know HOW IT ALL ENDS?!”
She finds Angie again.
“Ten times! Ten times Vaughn and I have fought! Ten times we have locked horns and traded punches! But EVERYTHING before now has been for naught! EVERYTHING before now has been just the path! Because NOW! NOW! NOW we fight for what matters MOST in the world. NOW we fight for what HE fought for. And the end of your story, Vaughn? The end of your rhymes and poems? The Normal Girl is CRUSHED by the Queen of Red. And the Queen of Red RIPS the WORLD TITLE out of her BONY, SCRAWNY, BROKEN HANDS!”
She turns back to the children.
“And when the Normal Girl finally wakes up from her coma? When the Queen of Red lets her wake up from her pain? She THANKS THE QUEEN MOTHER AND BEGS FOR FORGIVENESS!”
The clock continues to toll and Ava spins back and forth, taking in the entire crowd.
“OUT! OUT, ALL OF YOU! BEFORE I LET THE HAMMER FALL!”
A confused silence greets the queen’s words, but then doors open and guards come in, their dark uniforms and shining pins of rank making people move. Redmaine is suddenly there, standing behind Ava, sign language organizing the Red Guard. An even more complicated sign language passes between Angie and Sarah, and the two of them have the children rushing toward safety. But otherwise the scene of dignitaries, wrestlers, and partygoers is but one word:
Chaos.
x2
