Post by LACKLAN on Apr 6, 2019 16:35:40 GMT -5
Prologue...
Dear Aveline
I hope you don’t mind that I address you in such a manner. The Lord High Almighty knows that we’ve had our differences after all, none more recent than our encounter at Lord of Trios. But still, you are dear to me. A link to a past I’ve never had, and a family I’ve never truly known. I know that sounds weird, but it is a feeling I can’t shake, no matter how hard I try. I’ve tried not to let my Lacklan blood define my life, but the more I try to get away, the harder it pulls me back in.
And, as it seems, destiny (or Ichabod if you will) has made our paths collide once more. I will not do you the discourtesy of claiming I wasn’t disappointed, Aveline, but rather than see this as another setback and another chapter in our already storied rivalry, I see the chance of reconciliation. I think it’s safe to say that our fates are more tightly interconnected than either one of us would care to admit, but I don’t want to fight you forever. In the few momentary glimpses I’ve had where I was able to peek through the façade of the Queen of Red, I saw a good person, Aveline. A person worth caring about. The person I’m sure my father saw when he looked at you. Maybe that’s my childish naïveté speaking, or maybe it’s a sign of growing up. Who knows? Either way, neither of us is going anywhere anytime soon and I thought it in both our best interests that we find a way to co-exist.
But not just that. I want the whole world to see what I’ve seen. That you can be smart and brave, that you can be caring and considerate… Your people in Lacklanland may worship you, Aveline, but I think it’s safe to say the outside world doesn’t share their views. Therefore, I would like to ask you to come and attend a baseball game with me. Show the masses that you share their interests. Let them know that the Queen of Red and the Vaughnemous One can enjoy something as simple as a game where guys swing a bat at some balls (I think that's kind of how it goes).
I anxiously await your reply
Your husband’s daughter
Angelica
Angelica put the pen down. She looked at the piece of paper lying on the desk in front of her and sighed. She was NOT sure at all if this was a good idea, but she was tired of fighting with Bordy. Tired of always having to look over her shoulder, wondering whether she’d spill her big secret into the streets. She wasn’t sure if a baseball game was the way to go, but after the Texas Rangers had invited her to come and throw the first pitch (which was weird, because how can you throw an entire field, is there some sort of ploughing aspect involved? She’d have to check later.) she figured she might as well kill two birds with one bar of chocolate. Figuratively speaking.
She read the letter again. She had tried to keep her tone friendly and courteous without trying to sound disingenuous. She wasn’t sure if she’d succeeded despite having tipp-ex’d over a few ‘obvs’es and ‘totes’es, but it would have to do. A handwritten letter would surely be something she’d appreciate more than just a quick text or e-mail. It was, after all, Lacklander tradition.
She neatly folded it into an envelope and wrote the address on the back. And as she put it to the side, she instinctively took another piece of paper. And took her pen up again.
Dear Dave
I know things have been a bit rocky between us as of late. After our little chat in the hotel it seemed like you were mad at me for reasons I didn’t quite understand. I won’t lie, my feelings were a bit hurt; it was as if you’d cast me by the wayside, unable to listen to reason despite everything we’ve gone through as a team.
But at Lord of Trios you once again proved you’re one of the good guys. You called that match fair and down the middle; and don’t you believe those evil tongues claiming you gave me a fast count! It was nice to end the show like we’ve done so many times before, standing tall with our championships raised high. Sure, they weren’t the same titles we had when we were Co-op champions, but for that split second it felt like we’d never even lost them. Like we were still a TEAM!
In fact, aren’t we still? I’d like to think so.
Which brings me to the reason I’m writing this. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, Angell will be reunited… both together and with our old friend Aveline. In an effort to bring us all closer together, I’d like to invite you to come watch a Texas Rangers game this week (I’m throwing first pitch, pretty coolio, right?). All expenses paid, obvs. It’ll be a fun outing, and hopefully we can put aside whatever differences still remain. If nothing else, you’ll be able to watch sports and have a few beers. I know you love both those things.
I eagerly await your response.
Your taggie
Angelica
Angelica blew the ink dry and folded it into an envelope of its own. She stood up, and made a mental note to post them on her way to the gym.
…a beautiful…
…brown…
…baby…
Green eyes flash open, abject terror streaking within them with strong lines of purple.
Aveline Lacklan sits up in her bed, a pale purple sheet falling off her to expose a thin green gown clinging to her bosom by sweat. Her face is covered in that same sweat, tendrils of her bright white hair matting her forehead. She breathes deeply, large intakes that raise her shoulders up to her ears and long outtakes through gritted teeth that send her body back down.
The words of Kenzi Grey, slurred in her drunkenness from over a week ago, echo in her head. Aveline shakes her head, the sweat-soaked tendrils flying back and forth with a wet slap, but still the words echo.
“My Queen?”
Aveline’s body shakes as the bed moves next to her, the solid form of chiseled muscle that was Redmaine sitting up next to her. His mask on the bedside table, his is a face of ruined flesh, the lips turned up in a permanent sneer, and his voice is harder to understand than without the mask’s filter. Aveline closes her eyes and breathes out slowly again before placing her hand on the large man’s thigh. Her hand shakes at the electricity held within the touch, as well as the defined separation in the muscles underneath the taut skin.
“I am alright. Just…just bad dreams…”
She shivers again as his large hand places itself on her back, just at the point where her shoulder blades meet, his rough fingers touching her bare skin. But she doesn’t shrink away from it; indeed, she leans back slightly, allowing his palms to flatten against her.
“Now more than ever, I might bring the Vaughn girl under my control. I must find her a nice boy in the church. Produce a proper heir before…before…”
She shudders, her face nearly turning green.
“…before the line is dirtied by HER blood.”
She shivers again and drags her teeth against her tongue, as if the physical motion would scrap away the bad flavor psychologically in her mouth.
“Disgusting, really. My husband would be rolling in his GRAVE if he knew what his eldest daughter married!”
Redmaine’s garish face seems pensive for a moment.
“The child says that he blessed their un-“
“Non!”
Aveline whirls on Redmaine, her upper body pulling away from his touch and turning to meet his gaze.
”Non! I REFUSE to believe the LIES that come out of the Grey woman’s mouth! Filthy, dirty lesbians! Salopes! Everything from them is a lie. A LIE, Redmaine! My husband would NEVER allow his daughter to marry servant blood!”
She jabs a finger into his broad chest, the clear nail tipped in green digging into the point between his pectoral muscles.
“The sanctity of this house MUST be held! L’Enfant Demon may spit in the eye of everything pure in this world, everything God wishes us to be, but I will NOT stand by while these disgusting lesbians bring ruin upon us! I WILL turn Vaughn towards me! I WILL control her! She WILL bear me a rightful heir!”
She turns away from him, her arms folding under her breasts in defiance. She chews on her lips for a moment and then lets out a begrudging mumble.
“…if only the damned girl wasn’t so GOOD at God’s favorite sport. She has defeated me SEVEN TIMES in a row…”
She sulks in silence for many moments before Redmaine gently places his hand back on her back.
“We have never spoken of your miscarriage…”
“Because I do NOT speak of it!”
Her voice full of fiery venom, Redmaine wisely lets the issue drop.
“At least you are not facing her this week.”
Aveline rolls her eyes as forcefully as her husband ever had while listening to the pathetic pleas of his victims.
“For a wonder. For a wonder! I am not even facing that vile Cotton woman! Will wonders never cease!”
She shakes her head.
“A full third of my matches for the Coalition have been against them in some shape or form, and while I have the advantage over Cotton as of late, the Vaughn girl’s blood is boiling and soaring in ways she likely doesn’t understand. A pleasure to not have to lose to her again this week, even if it means working with Rydell once more.”
Another shake of her head.
“This will be an opportunity to remind her of who I am, once again. Even if it means against flunkies and failures.”
She removes her arms from her torso and holds up one of her hands, extending a finger.
“Holden Orson has proven in the last few months that being popular or successful in another time means little to the challenges of today. It seems that without other people to prop him up, without the ability to be a part in an engine…or Engine, for that matter…his is of little consequence. Every victory his attains his either one of little importance, or else he finds himself with his shoulders pinned to the mat. When he first returned last year for the initial Chill event, he DID find success, but it was against Deimos, and while Fear and I are friendly…perhaps more than that…victories over the former World Champion do not seem to be difficult to garner.
"After that, he introduced the modern audience to his inability to pay attention to the world for more than a few passing moments at a time when he was defeated by JC, a man close to retirement, and faded from the world. Even upon his return, it took him weeks to find even a small measure of his former self, and that has still been flushed away by what seems to be pathological procrastination. So focused on what may or may not be considered mainstream, he seems to forget that we are wrestlers fighting in God’s preferred sport, and as such often finds himself deficient in the task.”
She extends a second finger.
“The man-child that is McWrestleface has only succeeded in being underwhelming. Technically proficient and with a world of experience, it seems that he is in no way prepared for the level of competition that the Coalition provides. This might sound a touch silly, my dear, but he reminds me much of that Dynamo woman.”
Behind her, Redmaine raises an eyebrow.
”Pardon, my Queen. But I thought you were facing Zane Scott.”
Aveline giggles, an oddly light sound from the woman known for her cackle.
“Oh, am I? I think that, perhaps, it would be more prudent or advantageous for me to speak of someone else before we fought? Perhaps his trick of failing upward, of being gifted championship matches, is more akin to the likes of McWrestleface and Dynamo than he might wish? Perhaps the Embodiment of Whatever Word Sounds Marketable Today could learn from the mistakes of those two, yes?
“You see, Dynamo was strong on enthusiasm and marketing. She had an extensive history in which she was all too ready to inform you, with each item more implausible than the next. And even though the matchmakers within this company knew better, even though both Hastings and Ichabod knew what she was getting into, they allowed her an opportunity to face the Champion of Chaos. She failed, and her entire career in the company was forever skewed. Time and again, she had opportunities but came up short, until the point where she ultimately faded from existence.
“And McWrestleface’s path has been so similar. He is ready to regale you with tales of his work on the smaller circuits and circles, as blithely unaware of their minute importance as Dynamo was of her history and lineage, and found himself in unique opportunities he neither earned nor was prepared for. Gifted championship matches, first against me and then into the realm of Cooperation with a man he had never worked with before, he found himself facing the cold and stark reality of his inadequacies. He lost to the Champion of Chaos…lost to the Blood Princess…and became the reason why we have new Cooperative champions. His Coalition career, like that of Dynamo, is wrought with failure and humiliation, and I would not be surprised if he, too, faded into obscurity, leaving a host of people wishing they had never bothered working with him in the first place.”
She giggles again.
“Zane, remarkably, has found himself in similar company with those two, though I imagine he would be loathe to hear it. He does, after all, get rather upset when he hears an opinion which does not match the false face he works so hard to put forward. Both Dynamo and McWrestleface focused on matters which did not matter, focused on silliness such as theme music and fights in some abandoned parking lot over half a bag of bagels, and both ‘failed upward’ towards championship opportunities. One must wonder if Zane’s ‘no championships in 2019,’ regardless of what he says on the outside, is really just a ploy to ‘fail upward’ time and time again and find himself decorated in gold.”
She places a thoughtful finger on her chin.
“Crafty move, that.”
She extends a third finger.
“Meanwhile, Yamazaki has thus far been a non-entity. Intimidating, yes. Vicious, for certain. But his greatest victories seem to be only in emotionally scarring the members of my church with the largest busts, or else against the actresses in desperate need of employment. He has found failure in every avenue he has sought in this company, even so far as being unable to walk into the building, at times. He is unfocused and without direction, and while I can embrace his own tendencies towards chaos, as they seem similar to my own when…when I awoke…last year, his will be a path of failure until he can be pointed in the right direction. Perhaps even by me.”
She moves her had to her face, her fingers absently stroking her chin.
“Monsieur Bonecrusher has curried favor in this house, do not doubt. I was inside that double cage in Texas those years ago…and while I still regret causing my beloved husband the victory and championship…I do not forget the fire of the man who has become the would-be advocate of stardom. But Texas was a long time ago. A lifetime ago. In a life where L’Enfant Demon was but a valet, when Grey was but a reality star, when Vaughn was but a child playing soccer in Canda, when Cotton was but a two-dimensional bit player in Lane’s world. Much has changed since then, and Bonecrusher will have to do more than be a blowhard, regardless of how talented he is at the act, in order for Yamazaki to be a force to be bothered with.”
A knock at the door makes the two raise their heads.
”ENTREZ!”
The door opens and a woman in the black livery of the House of Lacklan makes her way in, the slashes of silver on her dress to denote her rank matching the domed plate in her hand.
“You have a letter, my Queen.”
Aveline rolls her eyes. Handwriting letters was a tradition in the family, one that her late husband performed for friends and foes alike, and as such there was only one person this could be from.
”L’Enfant Demon,” she growled, unable to keep her feelings out of her voice. “No doubt bragging once again over that FILTH she found.”
Visions of her old MySpace page, the Ava before the Aveline, fills her mind as she takes the letter after the servant pulls off the domed lid. But Aveline pauses as she touches the letter, a curious expression on her face. Redmaine raises another eyebrow at her, and the servant’s face blanches as she sees the man’s ruined face without the mask. He presses on the spot between Aveline’s shoulders again, causing her to shiver, and she hands the letter to him. He inspects it, running large fingers over the paper, the tips tracing the Champion of Chaos’ name.
“This is no Lacklanlander stock.”
Aveline shakes her head in agreement.
“No. Cheap paper. And the writing is different. Except…”
She reaches out and traces her own name with her fingers, the tips of hers meeting Redmaine’s at the “i” in her name, and the tiny heart in place of the dot above it.
“Odd, the little things God gives us.”
Aveline takes back the letter and slices it open with her finger, her green eyes taking in the words rapidly. Tiny twinges attack her face now and again, the tick which has developed recently on display, before serenity falls over her face as she finishes. She licks her lips in thought for a moment before looking at her partner. The look in her eyes is all the communication he needs, and he quickly dismisses the servant to their privacy. She is quiet until the door closes behind the woman.
“They are so different, Redmaine. Physical stature. Temperament. World view. Yet so similar. Tiny details. The hearts over the letter ‘i.’ The angle of the slant on the capital ‘R.’ And, if I am not mistaken, they both hold their pen in the same way he did.”
She shakes her head slowly but then looks back up at the man with the ruined face.
“Tell me: What is baseball?”
Darkness.
“This thing on? Are we rolling?
Fade in on Dave who is sitting on a stool with some colorful backdrop. An empty stool is next to him. He’s being asked questions from the side. He sits there with his Cross Hemisphere Title slung over his shoulder.
Dave: Alright. Let’s do this. Because I’ve got a fucking life to live and I really don’t want to be here.
Interviewer: I want to talk Lord of Trios.
Dave: Oh, Lord of Trios? What about it?
Interviewer: You’ve been scrutinized heavily for your match calling that night. DO you have anything to say to that?
Dave: It’s simple. I called it down the middle. Clearly I’m not a referee so it was just a random thing. I did my absolute best as a green referee. I’d like to see anyone else who has as much referee experience as I do, do a better fucking job. Was it Kenzi? She never shuts the fuck up.
Interviewer: What about the fast count?
Dave: What? No…it wasn’t a fast count. Did you even watch the fucking match? It was a normal referee counting cadence.
Interviewer: Changing gears - How do you feel after winning the Cross Hemisphere Title? You’re now tied for first place at 5 reigns, with Alan Wallace.
Dave: Well, normally some poor hack would sit here and grovel about being mentioned in the same sentence as Alan Wallace…namely Konrad Raab. But I won’t. Alan can fuck all the way off. Smug shithead. I won this belt just like I said I was going to do. I did what I had to do to get it. Fear…Konrad…didn’t stand a chance. And I’m going to do what it takes to defense this belt too. Mark my words, this title is staying here for a long time to come. Next question.
Interviewer: Right before you won that belt, you and your partner; Angie Vaughn; lost the UGWC Co-Operative Titles in what some are saying is one of the greatest reigns in history….especially for a randomized team such as you two had.
Dave: They aren’t wrong. The reign was great. We were a great team. Some key words in there, pal. Was and were. We aren’t the champs anymore. We are iffy on being a team. Well, I am. I won’t hide it.
Interviewer: Any thoughts on going after them again?
Dave: Listen. I’m a 3 time UGWC Co-Operative Champion. I’ve had 3 different partners. And at the end of each reign, all three of them were nowhere to be found when the titles were taken from us. Martin Graber…Donovan Hastings…and Angie Vaughn. Where was she to cut Donny off? Nowhere to be found. Are we going after a rematch? We haven’t discussed it. Next. I’m getting bored.
Interviewer: What are your thoughts on your upcoming Synergy match?
Dave: Come again? I have to look at the card. Listen…whatever the match is, it’ll be awesome. Whoever is in it should be glad they get to step into the ring with such a talent as me. It doesn’t matter what kind of match it is. As you see, I’ve had MANY successes over the years.
Interviewer: Many failures as well.
Dave: No. That was the other guy.
Interviewer: So you’re only taking credit for the wins?
Dave: Well, since I officially came to true form...have you seen me lose? I didn’t think so. NEXT!
Just then, Dave’s phone rings. It’s a FaceTime call from Angie. He hits the ignore button and places it on the stool next to him.
Interviewer: Do you need to get that?
Dave: No. Next.
Interviewer: You’ve been scrutinized recently on social media by Kenzi Grey. Care to comment?
Dave: Didn’t you already bring this up? If I wasn’t contractually obligated to have one, I’d delete it. Next.
Angie FaceTime calls once again but Dave ignores the call and stares forward, clearly irritated.
Interviewer: How are things going with Angie’s mother and you, dating wise?
Dave: Well, that’s clearly none of anyone’s fucking business but ours. So…next.
Interviewer: How are things with you and Angie not only as partners, but as friends?
Dave: Have I gone after her or the World Title yet? No. She still has it. I have my title. And we don’t hate each other. Clear enough?
Interviewer: For the record, your match on Synergy is a 6 person tag match. You’re teaming with Angie and Le Bord de Dieu to take on Hide Yamazaki, Holden Orson, and Zane Scott. Care to comment?
Dave: As I said before, it’s going to be a great match because I’m there. My partners are lucky to have me.
Interviewer: Johnny Bonecrusher said in a recent-
Dave: Who?
Interviewer: Not this again.
Dave: No, I legitimately have no idea who that is? Who is he?
Interviewer: The mouthpiece for Hide Yamazaki.
Dave: Who the fuck is that guy? Anyway, go on…
Interviewer: He said in a recent shoot that you haven’t done anything lately, even though you are the current Cross Hemisphere Champion. Care to comment?
Dave: He clearly doesn’t know who the fuck I am. Or been paying attention to UGWC television….dumbass. Since I came back at Day of Reckoning I have been on a warpath. I’ve been part of one of the most successful Co-Operative Title reigns this company has ever seen. I EARNED a record tying 5th Cross Hemisphere Title reign. And I was hand picked to be the special referee of the main event at Lord of Trios. I’d thoroughly enjoy that moron to say anything to my face. It’d be quite wonderful, honestly.
Interviewer: What will you do?
Dave: I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I will grab hi-…..excuse me.
Angie FaceTime calls Dave one more time and he answers. He keeps the phone down on the stool so the camera is pointing up. But Angie is looking around like she will be able to look around the room and see anything but the lights above.
Angie: Dave? WHERE ARE YOU?!
Dave: I’m here. What do you want?
Angie: Hey, pick up!
Dave: No.
Angie: Why not?
Dave: Because I’m not 5. What do you want? I’m in an interview.
Angie: Oh. Did you get my letter?
Dave: Yes. Can we talk later?
Angie: I don’t think you’ll call me later.
Dave: You’re probably right. Seriously. Can I go though?
Angie: Wait! I need you to meet me over at……
Dave hits the end button, cutting the call off. He sits back upright and looks forward.
Dave: Sorry about that. Where were we?
Fade out.
Angelica stood in the tunnel that led to the Texas Rangers’ field, hopping from one foot to the other, her nerves obviously getting the better of her. The UGWC World Championship bounced on her shoulder, the big belt the main reason why she was here in the first place. She’d done special events like this before, like giving the kick-off at an Oregon State Beavers game, but she KNEW football after having played it for a while now. She knew everything about soccer, too. But basicball (was that what it was called?) was as alien to her as ‘Space Disc’. If that was even a thing.
She knew the ceremonial first pitch was a big deal, and her agent had insisted she take the offer the Rangers had thrown her way. It would be excellent exposure, both for her own personal brand and for the Coalition as a whole. As its champion she was required to represent it on all levels: from the canvas to the media rooms to the sports field. It was a big responsibility, but she felt she was learning how to deal with the pressure that came with it a lot better. Anxiety attacks had made way for hopping from one foot to the other, which she considered progress.
Still, it was becoming increasingly harder for her to stay calm. She looked at her kitty-shaped watched and saw the little paws creeping every closer to the time they’d agreed to all meet up.
“Where ARE they?? I said 3:30 and it’s 3:29!”
Angelica was of the belief that if you were five minutes early, you were ten minutes late. Apparently her tag team partners didn’t share that same view, which was weird since Dave used to be army… Then again he hadn’t been himself as of late.
Still, his discipline got the better of him, as he turned the corner the second the clock struck 3:30. He was holding a beer in his hand and his Cross-Hemisphere title was draped over his shoulder. He held it with his free hand, clutching the strap so tightly the blood was drained from his knuckles.
“Dave, hey!” Angie shouted with a wave, but he didn’t really acknowledge her in the way she used to be used to. He gave her a mute nod of the head and took another sip of his beer before looking past her and into the stadium. An uncomfortable silence fell between them, and Angie tried to stir some life into the conversation.
“Sooo… nervous?”
“Why would I be?”
“Well, it’s like the first time I’ve thrown a first pitch! I hope I can throw a touchdown!”
“...what?” Dave answered, raising an eyebrow as he seemed to look at Angelica for the first time. “What are you talking about?”
“Yeah, or whatever it’s called. No wait, there’s no touchdowns in basicball.”
“BASICBALL???”
“Yeah, it’s a home run, right? I hope I can throw a home run! I don’t have Kenzi’s throwing arm, but...”
“Angie… You don’t throw a home run, you bat a home run!”
“Oh. Yeah, errr… I knew that!”
“Sure you did…”
“Yeah, you bat the ball into the hole! It’s totes craxy how they do that!”
“It...it isn’t golf, ANGIE!!”
Dave sighed and shook his head before emptying his beer and throwing the empty cup at a nearby worker.
“Hey dumbass, get me another one and quick. If I have to listen to this nonsense all night I’m gonna need it.”
“Hey, rude! I’m trying to bring us all together here,” Angie answered, putting her hands on her hips. “If you think Zane, Hide and Holden are going to go down easily while we’re still at each other’s throat, you’ve got another thing coming. Holden Orsen has no love lost for any of us, and while he hasn’t exactly set the world on fire, he’s facing three champions so he’ll be wanting to worm his way into a title shot for sure. And Zane will want to get one back on me after his tough talk before Lord of Trios, where he said he’d take my championship from me and vacate it. But after I beat him he’ll feel humiliated and want to show everybody he deserves to keep on getting shots for titles he doesn’t even seem to want. And Hide? Well, since Johnny is always BULLYING me on twitter, you can be darn sure he’ll set his beastie loose with a mission to destroy everything in sight. We need to be united!”
Dave merely snorted in response.
“I see that. Good job, Angie. Where even is this psycho? Pouring salt on her escargots? Deep frying the toes of some poor soul who didn’t kiss her feet as she walked past? Or is she plucking out the eyeballs of some drone who dared to look her in the eyes?”
“ACTUELLEMENT…”
A familiar voice behind them made Angelica jump up in surprise. There she stood, the Queen of Red. The Champion of Chaos. Le Bord de Dieu.
Who looked ridiculous.
Dressed in an oversized Rangers jersey and with a matching cap on top of her head, she looked as out of place as was possible for the famed nutjob. Standing behind her and looming large enough to create a space empty of people, the masked man known as Redmaine held the Chaos Championship over his shoulder. With her emerald eyes hiding behind a pair of glasses so large that they covered half of her face, it was impossible to tell where she was looking, but the annoyed and superior tone in her voice, well known to anyone who has ever met her, is unmistakable.
“I was having a word with the man they call a chef here. He is an imbecile. He did not even KNOW what a beignet was! C'est ridicule! And do not EVEN get me talking about their lack of Béchamel! They-”
She cut off for a second and slowly removed her sunglasses. She scowled in the sunlight, the Texan heat far more harsh than her home in Maine, but then scowled harder after a moment. Bordy’s face was full of a mixture of barely-contained rage and annoyance as she looked at Dave. She slowly turned her eyes to Angie, and they seem to get even harder than before.
“Il n'a toujours pas rasé.”
Angie’s face tightened a little bit, her resolve to bring the three together already being tested. She put on her best smile, her dimples rising.
“Je pense qu'il a l'air beau.”
Bordy’s eyes narrowed and Angie had to look away after a moment.
“Eh bien, ma mère le pense.”
Bordy’s hands clenched at her sides and began to shake. Thankfully, before something painful could happen, an arena worker approached the trio.
“Miss Vaughn?”
As Angie was led away to the side by the worker to receive instruction on her doom and/or destiny, Bordy took a long moment to stare at Dave . The Cross-Hemisphere champion did not back down or whither, ad instead returned her intense gaze.
“What?”
Bordy continued to stare for another moment.
“Teach me about baseball.”
For yet another time today, Dave found himself blinking in confusion. He then gave her a big shrug.
“It’s baseball.”
At her side, Bordy’s “potentially” rage-filled hands began to shake again.
“I know that. But I don’t know what that MEANS.”
“How can you NOT know what baseball means?!”
“We don’t play baseball in France! Literally only eight teams in our league! Perte de temps! And before you ask, no, we don’t play it in Maine, either!”
Dave grunted and rolled his eyes. Perhaps because of being by so many people that roll their eyes like it’s the most important thing in the world, his eyeroll was high in quality.
“You people are so weird. Listen: One team throws the ball. The other team hits the ball. All you need to know.”
Bordy looked at him with clear suspicion on her face.
“I believe it is more complicated than that…”
Dave shook his head.
“Nope. Let’s go.”
The trio walked out onto the field as the PA system announced them. Angie enthusiastically wove at the nameless, faceless crowd while Bordy looked like a queen inside an ant hill, viewing the thousands of faces as nothing but drones meant for nothing but servitude. Dave’s eyes actually lit up a bit, the sports fanatic inside him cracking a bit of the hard shell he’d grown in recent weeks. He proudly put up his Cross Hemisphere Championship which led to quite a few cheers in some of the fan sections.
“Hey, actually this might turn out to be fun after alllll------ ANGIE WHAT ARE YOU DOING??”
“What?” Angie said as she threw her light jacket to the side, revealing a white jersey with blue stripes that clearly spelled ‘DODGERS’. “I just typed ‘baseball jersey’ into Amazon and got the first one, what’s wrong with it?”
Bordy beamed at Angelica with a look of pride over what she perceived to be an antagonizing move, and not the cluelessness that was the reality..
”Bravo ma fille! Ton père sourit du paradis.”
“Oh, errr...thanks. Why is everybody looking at me funny?”
The stunned players as well as entire hordes of fans were caught silent with their mouths ajar. Angie bounced the ball she was given up and down in her palm.
“Never mind, where is the goal? Let’s put this bad boy in!”
Boo’s started to form around the stadium while the crew that was supposed to guide her to the pitcher’s base avoided her like she was a particularly big dropping from a giant bird that had just flown over the stadium. Dave was burying his head in shame inside his Cross Hemisphere Championship, wanting nothing more than to get the hell out of there.
Still, Angelica saw the people standing around the pitcher’s mound and figured that’s where she was needed. As Bordy chuckled at the sound of boos, Angie tried to bounce the ball off the grass surface, but failed to do so, just picking up the ball instead and resuming her way. As she arrived she gave the red-and-blue clad Texas Rangers a bright smile and an enthusiastic nod before tucking her blonde locks behind her ears.
“Oh boy, I feel like a real quarterback. Which one of you is the quarterback? Or, like, the striker, I guess? Oh hey, have you met my friends?”
Dave shuffled awkwardly closer, too ashamed to make eye contact with these elite athletes, while Bordy gracefully strode towards the mound.
“What is the wait?! Throw the ball! Or whatever it is you are supposed to do!”
Bordy turned her striking eyes on Dave and wove her hands.
“Instruct her!”
She then turned to the players at the mound with them.
“Or you peasants! Do your jobs, yes?”
The Rangers shared a look of confusion between one another as Dave sighed.
“Listen...there is a LOT wrong here…”
He gave the Rangers an apologetic shrug.
“She’s Canadian, and-”
“Candaian,” Angie corrected. Dave closed his eyes for a moment while taking a deep breath to calm himself.
“...she really doesn't get it. But she is a HELL of an athlete. She’ll get it over the plate.”
“Plate? What plate? Is it dinner time?”
Another long stare between the ballplayers and Dave. Finally, one of the players looked at Angie and tried to give her his best smile.
“You see the catcher?”
He pointed to a man in a mask and pads sixty feet away as Angie nodded.
“Just throw it to him, okay? As long as it’s even close, he’ll catch it.”
Angie gave him a big smile, as big she has ever given. The two ballplayers looked to one one another again, still clearly unsure, before they walked away. Angie stepped up onto the mound and placed her foot behind the rubber. She looked down at the white strip in confusion but then shook her head. She looked up at Dave and Bordy and gave them a smile, though it was filled with apprehension. Dave gave her a thumbs up, though his enthusiasm wasn’t matched in his eyes, and Bordy seemed ready for the whole ordeal to be done with.
Angie breathed deep as she turned to face the catcher. She had been in sports her entire life. Soccer. Football. Wrestling. This was nothing different. She breathed deep to steady herself and tried to match the picture of the pitcher Dave had texted her. She brought up her arms to her chest. Brought them up higher to her shoulders. She brought her knee up to her waist and then pushed forward on her legendary legs. She felt the ball leave her fingers, felt the stitches rub off her fingertips.
And saw the ball fly into the Rangers dugout.
“Oh noes!”
Angie’s face scrunched into abject horror. Behind her, Dave groaned and Bordy cackled. The crowd was silent. The players looked at her, some shaked their heads. A sigh was heard over the PA system, the announcer not bothering to hide his disappointment.
“Ladies and Gentlemen! The UGWC World Champion, Angie Vaughn!”
Boos rained over the stadium, but Angie didn’t really seem to notice for once. She shrugged, turned to the players and giggled.
“Oh well, it can’t always be a hole-in-one, but I’m sure that was like a bogey or something!”
“How have you used terms from every sport except ACTUAL baseball?” an annoyed Dave asked and he took her by the arm before starting to guide her away towards the tunnel. A cackling Bordy followed in their footsteps as fans threw their empty and half-full (that’s $6 of beer!) cups their way. With a reflex, Dave swatted away a hotdog bun that was about to hit him in the face. A smear of ketchup stained the back of his hand and he wiped it off on the shoulder of Angie’s Dodgers jersey.
“At least you won’t have to worry about them asking you ever again! Now let’s get out of here.”
“What, aren’t we gonna watch the game at least?”
“And get lynched??”
They entered the tunnel and Dave stopped, looking at both of them.
“Look, thanks for ruining a potentially perfect night. We just looked like a bunch of jackasses out of there. This was supposed to bring us together as a team… Your words! But we came across as a bunch of fools; do you think Hide, Zane and Holden will look at this footage and tremble in their boots because they see a polished, dangerous team coming at them?”
“Well, I had a good time,” Angie shrugged. “Right, Aveline?”
Bordy looked at Angie’s shoulder with a look of disgust.
“You have ketchup on your shirt.”
Angie looked down at it and gave a shrug, to which Bordy shook to head.
“Fun is subjectable, dau-”
She cut herself off with a quick glare at Dave.
“...child. I find fun in causing chaos and shaping it to God’s will. And out there?”
She motioned toward the edge of the tunnel and field.
“That is chaos. Well done.”
She turned her head to Dave.
“Trust me, Rydell, they WILL fear us. Three of us stand tall, above the rest of the rabble, above those who would aspire to even lick our boots. They-”
She didn’t notice Dave’s eyes glaze over. He had heard this many...MANY...times before.
“-WISH they could be us. They DREAM of being us. They sit in the darkness of their homes, whispering to God, of their hopes that they could be anything close to us. And as long as the two of you listen to me-”
She didn’t notice Angie rolling her eyes, either.
“-then those three cockroaches will not only cower in fear, they will WORSHIP the ground we walk upon! While you two failed at the precipice of history...something I did NOT do, as I am now officially the Chaos Champion more days than ANYONE else...you are STILL two of the champions within this company. Rydell!”
She turned to face Dave.
“Cross-Hemisphere Champion, fought over and coveted by the likes of Fear and the Blood Princess! Vaughn!”
She turned to face Angie again.
“World Champion! The smiter of Vain and the foolish such as Zane. And, of course, the very Edge of Blade of God, myself! Against what? Against who?! The wordless Hide? The feckless Orson? The ever-upward-failing Zane? I laugh at them! Laugh, I say!”
She did, indeed, laugh And despite everything, Dave found himself nodding towards the end. Aveline had a way with words, the incomparable gift of rallying people to her cause. Even Angelica didn’t seem unconvinced.
“Well, when you put it like THAT…”
She turned towards Dave.
“Look, things may not be the way they used to be, but what we did all those months as a team, that was no fluke. It didn’t come out of nowhere. We can do the same again, and Aveline is right, you know. WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS, like that Rolling Stones song!”
“Queen!”
“Oui?” piped up Bordy, but no one noticed.
“Whatevs. Same thing, basically. Look, we hold our titles for a reason, and Hide, Holden and Zane do not, also for a reason. They’re not going to show management they deserve a title shot of their own. Not at our expense. I know this may sound arrogant, but we’re too good for that. Haven’t we proven that?”
“...I certainly have…” mumbled Bordy. Angie gave her a stern look, her chin tilting upward, and Bordy rose her hands in submission.
“Assez, ma fille! You have earned your right. You both have. This team we face, this group of carelessly assembled failures and simpletons, have ZERO chance against us. Let them flounder! Let them stumble! Let the prove, AGAIN, that NONE of them are worth our notice. But ants beneath our boots! But children, untrained and unprepared, thrown into waters of a depth they cannot swim! Let us-”
“You had me at enough!” roared Dave. Bordy stared at him, her eyes wide as a bug, but he just shook his head. “Let's get out of here. I could REALLY use a beer.”
Angie’s face lit up like a firework.
“Totes!”
She turned and marched on her long legs, Dave right behind her. Bordy could do nothing but shake her head and follow.
~~fin~~
Dear Aveline
I hope you don’t mind that I address you in such a manner. The Lord High Almighty knows that we’ve had our differences after all, none more recent than our encounter at Lord of Trios. But still, you are dear to me. A link to a past I’ve never had, and a family I’ve never truly known. I know that sounds weird, but it is a feeling I can’t shake, no matter how hard I try. I’ve tried not to let my Lacklan blood define my life, but the more I try to get away, the harder it pulls me back in.
And, as it seems, destiny (or Ichabod if you will) has made our paths collide once more. I will not do you the discourtesy of claiming I wasn’t disappointed, Aveline, but rather than see this as another setback and another chapter in our already storied rivalry, I see the chance of reconciliation. I think it’s safe to say that our fates are more tightly interconnected than either one of us would care to admit, but I don’t want to fight you forever. In the few momentary glimpses I’ve had where I was able to peek through the façade of the Queen of Red, I saw a good person, Aveline. A person worth caring about. The person I’m sure my father saw when he looked at you. Maybe that’s my childish naïveté speaking, or maybe it’s a sign of growing up. Who knows? Either way, neither of us is going anywhere anytime soon and I thought it in both our best interests that we find a way to co-exist.
But not just that. I want the whole world to see what I’ve seen. That you can be smart and brave, that you can be caring and considerate… Your people in Lacklanland may worship you, Aveline, but I think it’s safe to say the outside world doesn’t share their views. Therefore, I would like to ask you to come and attend a baseball game with me. Show the masses that you share their interests. Let them know that the Queen of Red and the Vaughnemous One can enjoy something as simple as a game where guys swing a bat at some balls (I think that's kind of how it goes).
I anxiously await your reply
Your husband’s daughter
Angelica
Angelica put the pen down. She looked at the piece of paper lying on the desk in front of her and sighed. She was NOT sure at all if this was a good idea, but she was tired of fighting with Bordy. Tired of always having to look over her shoulder, wondering whether she’d spill her big secret into the streets. She wasn’t sure if a baseball game was the way to go, but after the Texas Rangers had invited her to come and throw the first pitch (which was weird, because how can you throw an entire field, is there some sort of ploughing aspect involved? She’d have to check later.) she figured she might as well kill two birds with one bar of chocolate. Figuratively speaking.
She read the letter again. She had tried to keep her tone friendly and courteous without trying to sound disingenuous. She wasn’t sure if she’d succeeded despite having tipp-ex’d over a few ‘obvs’es and ‘totes’es, but it would have to do. A handwritten letter would surely be something she’d appreciate more than just a quick text or e-mail. It was, after all, Lacklander tradition.
She neatly folded it into an envelope and wrote the address on the back. And as she put it to the side, she instinctively took another piece of paper. And took her pen up again.
Dear Dave
I know things have been a bit rocky between us as of late. After our little chat in the hotel it seemed like you were mad at me for reasons I didn’t quite understand. I won’t lie, my feelings were a bit hurt; it was as if you’d cast me by the wayside, unable to listen to reason despite everything we’ve gone through as a team.
But at Lord of Trios you once again proved you’re one of the good guys. You called that match fair and down the middle; and don’t you believe those evil tongues claiming you gave me a fast count! It was nice to end the show like we’ve done so many times before, standing tall with our championships raised high. Sure, they weren’t the same titles we had when we were Co-op champions, but for that split second it felt like we’d never even lost them. Like we were still a TEAM!
In fact, aren’t we still? I’d like to think so.
Which brings me to the reason I’m writing this. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, Angell will be reunited… both together and with our old friend Aveline. In an effort to bring us all closer together, I’d like to invite you to come watch a Texas Rangers game this week (I’m throwing first pitch, pretty coolio, right?). All expenses paid, obvs. It’ll be a fun outing, and hopefully we can put aside whatever differences still remain. If nothing else, you’ll be able to watch sports and have a few beers. I know you love both those things.
I eagerly await your response.
Your taggie
Angelica
Angelica blew the ink dry and folded it into an envelope of its own. She stood up, and made a mental note to post them on her way to the gym.
…a beautiful…
…let me out again…
Pained flash.
…I want to plaaaa-aaaayyyyyyy…
Pained grunts.
LET ME OUT YOU SELFISH BITCH
Aveline Lacklan sits up in her bed, a pale purple sheet falling off her to expose a thin green gown clinging to her bosom by sweat. Her face is covered in that same sweat, tendrils of her bright white hair matting her forehead. She breathes deeply, large intakes that raise her shoulders up to her ears and long outtakes through gritted teeth that send her body back down.
The words of Kenzi Grey, slurred in her drunkenness from over a week ago, echo in her head. Aveline shakes her head, the sweat-soaked tendrils flying back and forth with a wet slap, but still the words echo.
“My Queen?”
Aveline’s body shakes as the bed moves next to her, the solid form of chiseled muscle that was Redmaine sitting up next to her. His mask on the bedside table, his is a face of ruined flesh, the lips turned up in a permanent sneer, and his voice is harder to understand than without the mask’s filter. Aveline closes her eyes and breathes out slowly again before placing her hand on the large man’s thigh. Her hand shakes at the electricity held within the touch, as well as the defined separation in the muscles underneath the taut skin.
“I am alright. Just…just bad dreams…”
She shivers again as his large hand places itself on her back, just at the point where her shoulder blades meet, his rough fingers touching her bare skin. But she doesn’t shrink away from it; indeed, she leans back slightly, allowing his palms to flatten against her.
“Now more than ever, I might bring the Vaughn girl under my control. I must find her a nice boy in the church. Produce a proper heir before…before…”
She shudders, her face nearly turning green.
“…before the line is dirtied by HER blood.”
She shivers again and drags her teeth against her tongue, as if the physical motion would scrap away the bad flavor psychologically in her mouth.
“Disgusting, really. My husband would be rolling in his GRAVE if he knew what his eldest daughter married!”
Redmaine’s garish face seems pensive for a moment.
“The child says that he blessed their un-“
“Non!”
Aveline whirls on Redmaine, her upper body pulling away from his touch and turning to meet his gaze.
”Non! I REFUSE to believe the LIES that come out of the Grey woman’s mouth! Filthy, dirty lesbians! Salopes! Everything from them is a lie. A LIE, Redmaine! My husband would NEVER allow his daughter to marry servant blood!”
She jabs a finger into his broad chest, the clear nail tipped in green digging into the point between his pectoral muscles.
“The sanctity of this house MUST be held! L’Enfant Demon may spit in the eye of everything pure in this world, everything God wishes us to be, but I will NOT stand by while these disgusting lesbians bring ruin upon us! I WILL turn Vaughn towards me! I WILL control her! She WILL bear me a rightful heir!”
She turns away from him, her arms folding under her breasts in defiance. She chews on her lips for a moment and then lets out a begrudging mumble.
“…if only the damned girl wasn’t so GOOD at God’s favorite sport. She has defeated me SEVEN TIMES in a row…”
She sulks in silence for many moments before Redmaine gently places his hand back on her back.
“We have never spoken of your miscarriage…”
“Because I do NOT speak of it!”
Her voice full of fiery venom, Redmaine wisely lets the issue drop.
“At least you are not facing her this week.”
Aveline rolls her eyes as forcefully as her husband ever had while listening to the pathetic pleas of his victims.
“For a wonder. For a wonder! I am not even facing that vile Cotton woman! Will wonders never cease!”
She shakes her head.
“A full third of my matches for the Coalition have been against them in some shape or form, and while I have the advantage over Cotton as of late, the Vaughn girl’s blood is boiling and soaring in ways she likely doesn’t understand. A pleasure to not have to lose to her again this week, even if it means working with Rydell once more.”
Another shake of her head.
“This will be an opportunity to remind her of who I am, once again. Even if it means against flunkies and failures.”
She removes her arms from her torso and holds up one of her hands, extending a finger.
“Holden Orson has proven in the last few months that being popular or successful in another time means little to the challenges of today. It seems that without other people to prop him up, without the ability to be a part in an engine…or Engine, for that matter…his is of little consequence. Every victory his attains his either one of little importance, or else he finds himself with his shoulders pinned to the mat. When he first returned last year for the initial Chill event, he DID find success, but it was against Deimos, and while Fear and I are friendly…perhaps more than that…victories over the former World Champion do not seem to be difficult to garner.
"After that, he introduced the modern audience to his inability to pay attention to the world for more than a few passing moments at a time when he was defeated by JC, a man close to retirement, and faded from the world. Even upon his return, it took him weeks to find even a small measure of his former self, and that has still been flushed away by what seems to be pathological procrastination. So focused on what may or may not be considered mainstream, he seems to forget that we are wrestlers fighting in God’s preferred sport, and as such often finds himself deficient in the task.”
She extends a second finger.
“The man-child that is McWrestleface has only succeeded in being underwhelming. Technically proficient and with a world of experience, it seems that he is in no way prepared for the level of competition that the Coalition provides. This might sound a touch silly, my dear, but he reminds me much of that Dynamo woman.”
Behind her, Redmaine raises an eyebrow.
”Pardon, my Queen. But I thought you were facing Zane Scott.”
Aveline giggles, an oddly light sound from the woman known for her cackle.
“Oh, am I? I think that, perhaps, it would be more prudent or advantageous for me to speak of someone else before we fought? Perhaps his trick of failing upward, of being gifted championship matches, is more akin to the likes of McWrestleface and Dynamo than he might wish? Perhaps the Embodiment of Whatever Word Sounds Marketable Today could learn from the mistakes of those two, yes?
“You see, Dynamo was strong on enthusiasm and marketing. She had an extensive history in which she was all too ready to inform you, with each item more implausible than the next. And even though the matchmakers within this company knew better, even though both Hastings and Ichabod knew what she was getting into, they allowed her an opportunity to face the Champion of Chaos. She failed, and her entire career in the company was forever skewed. Time and again, she had opportunities but came up short, until the point where she ultimately faded from existence.
“And McWrestleface’s path has been so similar. He is ready to regale you with tales of his work on the smaller circuits and circles, as blithely unaware of their minute importance as Dynamo was of her history and lineage, and found himself in unique opportunities he neither earned nor was prepared for. Gifted championship matches, first against me and then into the realm of Cooperation with a man he had never worked with before, he found himself facing the cold and stark reality of his inadequacies. He lost to the Champion of Chaos…lost to the Blood Princess…and became the reason why we have new Cooperative champions. His Coalition career, like that of Dynamo, is wrought with failure and humiliation, and I would not be surprised if he, too, faded into obscurity, leaving a host of people wishing they had never bothered working with him in the first place.”
She giggles again.
“Zane, remarkably, has found himself in similar company with those two, though I imagine he would be loathe to hear it. He does, after all, get rather upset when he hears an opinion which does not match the false face he works so hard to put forward. Both Dynamo and McWrestleface focused on matters which did not matter, focused on silliness such as theme music and fights in some abandoned parking lot over half a bag of bagels, and both ‘failed upward’ towards championship opportunities. One must wonder if Zane’s ‘no championships in 2019,’ regardless of what he says on the outside, is really just a ploy to ‘fail upward’ time and time again and find himself decorated in gold.”
She places a thoughtful finger on her chin.
“Crafty move, that.”
She extends a third finger.
“Meanwhile, Yamazaki has thus far been a non-entity. Intimidating, yes. Vicious, for certain. But his greatest victories seem to be only in emotionally scarring the members of my church with the largest busts, or else against the actresses in desperate need of employment. He has found failure in every avenue he has sought in this company, even so far as being unable to walk into the building, at times. He is unfocused and without direction, and while I can embrace his own tendencies towards chaos, as they seem similar to my own when…when I awoke…last year, his will be a path of failure until he can be pointed in the right direction. Perhaps even by me.”
She moves her had to her face, her fingers absently stroking her chin.
“Monsieur Bonecrusher has curried favor in this house, do not doubt. I was inside that double cage in Texas those years ago…and while I still regret causing my beloved husband the victory and championship…I do not forget the fire of the man who has become the would-be advocate of stardom. But Texas was a long time ago. A lifetime ago. In a life where L’Enfant Demon was but a valet, when Grey was but a reality star, when Vaughn was but a child playing soccer in Canda, when Cotton was but a two-dimensional bit player in Lane’s world. Much has changed since then, and Bonecrusher will have to do more than be a blowhard, regardless of how talented he is at the act, in order for Yamazaki to be a force to be bothered with.”
A knock at the door makes the two raise their heads.
”ENTREZ!”
The door opens and a woman in the black livery of the House of Lacklan makes her way in, the slashes of silver on her dress to denote her rank matching the domed plate in her hand.
“You have a letter, my Queen.”
Aveline rolls her eyes. Handwriting letters was a tradition in the family, one that her late husband performed for friends and foes alike, and as such there was only one person this could be from.
”L’Enfant Demon,” she growled, unable to keep her feelings out of her voice. “No doubt bragging once again over that FILTH she found.”
Visions of her old MySpace page, the Ava before the Aveline, fills her mind as she takes the letter after the servant pulls off the domed lid. But Aveline pauses as she touches the letter, a curious expression on her face. Redmaine raises another eyebrow at her, and the servant’s face blanches as she sees the man’s ruined face without the mask. He presses on the spot between Aveline’s shoulders again, causing her to shiver, and she hands the letter to him. He inspects it, running large fingers over the paper, the tips tracing the Champion of Chaos’ name.
“This is no Lacklanlander stock.”
Aveline shakes her head in agreement.
“No. Cheap paper. And the writing is different. Except…”
She reaches out and traces her own name with her fingers, the tips of hers meeting Redmaine’s at the “i” in her name, and the tiny heart in place of the dot above it.
“Odd, the little things God gives us.”
Aveline takes back the letter and slices it open with her finger, her green eyes taking in the words rapidly. Tiny twinges attack her face now and again, the tick which has developed recently on display, before serenity falls over her face as she finishes. She licks her lips in thought for a moment before looking at her partner. The look in her eyes is all the communication he needs, and he quickly dismisses the servant to their privacy. She is quiet until the door closes behind the woman.
“They are so different, Redmaine. Physical stature. Temperament. World view. Yet so similar. Tiny details. The hearts over the letter ‘i.’ The angle of the slant on the capital ‘R.’ And, if I am not mistaken, they both hold their pen in the same way he did.”
She shakes her head slowly but then looks back up at the man with the ruined face.
“Tell me: What is baseball?”
Darkness.
“This thing on? Are we rolling?
Fade in on Dave who is sitting on a stool with some colorful backdrop. An empty stool is next to him. He’s being asked questions from the side. He sits there with his Cross Hemisphere Title slung over his shoulder.
Dave: Alright. Let’s do this. Because I’ve got a fucking life to live and I really don’t want to be here.
Interviewer: I want to talk Lord of Trios.
Dave: Oh, Lord of Trios? What about it?
Interviewer: You’ve been scrutinized heavily for your match calling that night. DO you have anything to say to that?
Dave: It’s simple. I called it down the middle. Clearly I’m not a referee so it was just a random thing. I did my absolute best as a green referee. I’d like to see anyone else who has as much referee experience as I do, do a better fucking job. Was it Kenzi? She never shuts the fuck up.
Interviewer: What about the fast count?
Dave: What? No…it wasn’t a fast count. Did you even watch the fucking match? It was a normal referee counting cadence.
Interviewer: Changing gears - How do you feel after winning the Cross Hemisphere Title? You’re now tied for first place at 5 reigns, with Alan Wallace.
Dave: Well, normally some poor hack would sit here and grovel about being mentioned in the same sentence as Alan Wallace…namely Konrad Raab. But I won’t. Alan can fuck all the way off. Smug shithead. I won this belt just like I said I was going to do. I did what I had to do to get it. Fear…Konrad…didn’t stand a chance. And I’m going to do what it takes to defense this belt too. Mark my words, this title is staying here for a long time to come. Next question.
Interviewer: Right before you won that belt, you and your partner; Angie Vaughn; lost the UGWC Co-Operative Titles in what some are saying is one of the greatest reigns in history….especially for a randomized team such as you two had.
Dave: They aren’t wrong. The reign was great. We were a great team. Some key words in there, pal. Was and were. We aren’t the champs anymore. We are iffy on being a team. Well, I am. I won’t hide it.
Interviewer: Any thoughts on going after them again?
Dave: Listen. I’m a 3 time UGWC Co-Operative Champion. I’ve had 3 different partners. And at the end of each reign, all three of them were nowhere to be found when the titles were taken from us. Martin Graber…Donovan Hastings…and Angie Vaughn. Where was she to cut Donny off? Nowhere to be found. Are we going after a rematch? We haven’t discussed it. Next. I’m getting bored.
Interviewer: What are your thoughts on your upcoming Synergy match?
Dave: Come again? I have to look at the card. Listen…whatever the match is, it’ll be awesome. Whoever is in it should be glad they get to step into the ring with such a talent as me. It doesn’t matter what kind of match it is. As you see, I’ve had MANY successes over the years.
Interviewer: Many failures as well.
Dave: No. That was the other guy.
Interviewer: So you’re only taking credit for the wins?
Dave: Well, since I officially came to true form...have you seen me lose? I didn’t think so. NEXT!
Just then, Dave’s phone rings. It’s a FaceTime call from Angie. He hits the ignore button and places it on the stool next to him.
Interviewer: Do you need to get that?
Dave: No. Next.
Interviewer: You’ve been scrutinized recently on social media by Kenzi Grey. Care to comment?
Dave: Didn’t you already bring this up? If I wasn’t contractually obligated to have one, I’d delete it. Next.
Angie FaceTime calls once again but Dave ignores the call and stares forward, clearly irritated.
Interviewer: How are things going with Angie’s mother and you, dating wise?
Dave: Well, that’s clearly none of anyone’s fucking business but ours. So…next.
Interviewer: How are things with you and Angie not only as partners, but as friends?
Dave: Have I gone after her or the World Title yet? No. She still has it. I have my title. And we don’t hate each other. Clear enough?
Interviewer: For the record, your match on Synergy is a 6 person tag match. You’re teaming with Angie and Le Bord de Dieu to take on Hide Yamazaki, Holden Orson, and Zane Scott. Care to comment?
Dave: As I said before, it’s going to be a great match because I’m there. My partners are lucky to have me.
Interviewer: Johnny Bonecrusher said in a recent-
Dave: Who?
Interviewer: Not this again.
Dave: No, I legitimately have no idea who that is? Who is he?
Interviewer: The mouthpiece for Hide Yamazaki.
Dave: Who the fuck is that guy? Anyway, go on…
Interviewer: He said in a recent shoot that you haven’t done anything lately, even though you are the current Cross Hemisphere Champion. Care to comment?
Dave: He clearly doesn’t know who the fuck I am. Or been paying attention to UGWC television….dumbass. Since I came back at Day of Reckoning I have been on a warpath. I’ve been part of one of the most successful Co-Operative Title reigns this company has ever seen. I EARNED a record tying 5th Cross Hemisphere Title reign. And I was hand picked to be the special referee of the main event at Lord of Trios. I’d thoroughly enjoy that moron to say anything to my face. It’d be quite wonderful, honestly.
Interviewer: What will you do?
Dave: I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I will grab hi-…..excuse me.
Angie FaceTime calls Dave one more time and he answers. He keeps the phone down on the stool so the camera is pointing up. But Angie is looking around like she will be able to look around the room and see anything but the lights above.
Angie: Dave? WHERE ARE YOU?!
Dave: I’m here. What do you want?
Angie: Hey, pick up!
Dave: No.
Angie: Why not?
Dave: Because I’m not 5. What do you want? I’m in an interview.
Angie: Oh. Did you get my letter?
Dave: Yes. Can we talk later?
Angie: I don’t think you’ll call me later.
Dave: You’re probably right. Seriously. Can I go though?
Angie: Wait! I need you to meet me over at……
Dave hits the end button, cutting the call off. He sits back upright and looks forward.
Dave: Sorry about that. Where were we?
Fade out.
Globe Life Park
Arlington, Texas
Los Angeles Angels vs. Texas Rangers
Arlington, Texas
Los Angeles Angels vs. Texas Rangers
Angelica stood in the tunnel that led to the Texas Rangers’ field, hopping from one foot to the other, her nerves obviously getting the better of her. The UGWC World Championship bounced on her shoulder, the big belt the main reason why she was here in the first place. She’d done special events like this before, like giving the kick-off at an Oregon State Beavers game, but she KNEW football after having played it for a while now. She knew everything about soccer, too. But basicball (was that what it was called?) was as alien to her as ‘Space Disc’. If that was even a thing.
She knew the ceremonial first pitch was a big deal, and her agent had insisted she take the offer the Rangers had thrown her way. It would be excellent exposure, both for her own personal brand and for the Coalition as a whole. As its champion she was required to represent it on all levels: from the canvas to the media rooms to the sports field. It was a big responsibility, but she felt she was learning how to deal with the pressure that came with it a lot better. Anxiety attacks had made way for hopping from one foot to the other, which she considered progress.
Still, it was becoming increasingly harder for her to stay calm. She looked at her kitty-shaped watched and saw the little paws creeping every closer to the time they’d agreed to all meet up.
“Where ARE they?? I said 3:30 and it’s 3:29!”
Angelica was of the belief that if you were five minutes early, you were ten minutes late. Apparently her tag team partners didn’t share that same view, which was weird since Dave used to be army… Then again he hadn’t been himself as of late.
Still, his discipline got the better of him, as he turned the corner the second the clock struck 3:30. He was holding a beer in his hand and his Cross-Hemisphere title was draped over his shoulder. He held it with his free hand, clutching the strap so tightly the blood was drained from his knuckles.
“Dave, hey!” Angie shouted with a wave, but he didn’t really acknowledge her in the way she used to be used to. He gave her a mute nod of the head and took another sip of his beer before looking past her and into the stadium. An uncomfortable silence fell between them, and Angie tried to stir some life into the conversation.
“Sooo… nervous?”
“Why would I be?”
“Well, it’s like the first time I’ve thrown a first pitch! I hope I can throw a touchdown!”
“...what?” Dave answered, raising an eyebrow as he seemed to look at Angelica for the first time. “What are you talking about?”
“Yeah, or whatever it’s called. No wait, there’s no touchdowns in basicball.”
“BASICBALL???”
“Yeah, it’s a home run, right? I hope I can throw a home run! I don’t have Kenzi’s throwing arm, but...”
“Angie… You don’t throw a home run, you bat a home run!”
“Oh. Yeah, errr… I knew that!”
“Sure you did…”
“Yeah, you bat the ball into the hole! It’s totes craxy how they do that!”
“It...it isn’t golf, ANGIE!!”
Dave sighed and shook his head before emptying his beer and throwing the empty cup at a nearby worker.
“Hey dumbass, get me another one and quick. If I have to listen to this nonsense all night I’m gonna need it.”
“Hey, rude! I’m trying to bring us all together here,” Angie answered, putting her hands on her hips. “If you think Zane, Hide and Holden are going to go down easily while we’re still at each other’s throat, you’ve got another thing coming. Holden Orsen has no love lost for any of us, and while he hasn’t exactly set the world on fire, he’s facing three champions so he’ll be wanting to worm his way into a title shot for sure. And Zane will want to get one back on me after his tough talk before Lord of Trios, where he said he’d take my championship from me and vacate it. But after I beat him he’ll feel humiliated and want to show everybody he deserves to keep on getting shots for titles he doesn’t even seem to want. And Hide? Well, since Johnny is always BULLYING me on twitter, you can be darn sure he’ll set his beastie loose with a mission to destroy everything in sight. We need to be united!”
Dave merely snorted in response.
“I see that. Good job, Angie. Where even is this psycho? Pouring salt on her escargots? Deep frying the toes of some poor soul who didn’t kiss her feet as she walked past? Or is she plucking out the eyeballs of some drone who dared to look her in the eyes?”
“ACTUELLEMENT…”
A familiar voice behind them made Angelica jump up in surprise. There she stood, the Queen of Red. The Champion of Chaos. Le Bord de Dieu.
Who looked ridiculous.
Dressed in an oversized Rangers jersey and with a matching cap on top of her head, she looked as out of place as was possible for the famed nutjob. Standing behind her and looming large enough to create a space empty of people, the masked man known as Redmaine held the Chaos Championship over his shoulder. With her emerald eyes hiding behind a pair of glasses so large that they covered half of her face, it was impossible to tell where she was looking, but the annoyed and superior tone in her voice, well known to anyone who has ever met her, is unmistakable.
“I was having a word with the man they call a chef here. He is an imbecile. He did not even KNOW what a beignet was! C'est ridicule! And do not EVEN get me talking about their lack of Béchamel! They-”
She cut off for a second and slowly removed her sunglasses. She scowled in the sunlight, the Texan heat far more harsh than her home in Maine, but then scowled harder after a moment. Bordy’s face was full of a mixture of barely-contained rage and annoyance as she looked at Dave. She slowly turned her eyes to Angie, and they seem to get even harder than before.
“Il n'a toujours pas rasé.”
Angie’s face tightened a little bit, her resolve to bring the three together already being tested. She put on her best smile, her dimples rising.
“Je pense qu'il a l'air beau.”
Bordy’s eyes narrowed and Angie had to look away after a moment.
“Eh bien, ma mère le pense.”
Bordy’s hands clenched at her sides and began to shake. Thankfully, before something painful could happen, an arena worker approached the trio.
“Miss Vaughn?”
As Angie was led away to the side by the worker to receive instruction on her doom and/or destiny, Bordy took a long moment to stare at Dave . The Cross-Hemisphere champion did not back down or whither, ad instead returned her intense gaze.
“What?”
Bordy continued to stare for another moment.
“Teach me about baseball.”
For yet another time today, Dave found himself blinking in confusion. He then gave her a big shrug.
“It’s baseball.”
At her side, Bordy’s “potentially” rage-filled hands began to shake again.
“I know that. But I don’t know what that MEANS.”
“How can you NOT know what baseball means?!”
“We don’t play baseball in France! Literally only eight teams in our league! Perte de temps! And before you ask, no, we don’t play it in Maine, either!”
Dave grunted and rolled his eyes. Perhaps because of being by so many people that roll their eyes like it’s the most important thing in the world, his eyeroll was high in quality.
“You people are so weird. Listen: One team throws the ball. The other team hits the ball. All you need to know.”
Bordy looked at him with clear suspicion on her face.
“I believe it is more complicated than that…”
Dave shook his head.
“Nope. Let’s go.”
The trio walked out onto the field as the PA system announced them. Angie enthusiastically wove at the nameless, faceless crowd while Bordy looked like a queen inside an ant hill, viewing the thousands of faces as nothing but drones meant for nothing but servitude. Dave’s eyes actually lit up a bit, the sports fanatic inside him cracking a bit of the hard shell he’d grown in recent weeks. He proudly put up his Cross Hemisphere Championship which led to quite a few cheers in some of the fan sections.
“Hey, actually this might turn out to be fun after alllll------ ANGIE WHAT ARE YOU DOING??”
“What?” Angie said as she threw her light jacket to the side, revealing a white jersey with blue stripes that clearly spelled ‘DODGERS’. “I just typed ‘baseball jersey’ into Amazon and got the first one, what’s wrong with it?”
Bordy beamed at Angelica with a look of pride over what she perceived to be an antagonizing move, and not the cluelessness that was the reality..
”Bravo ma fille! Ton père sourit du paradis.”
“Oh, errr...thanks. Why is everybody looking at me funny?”
The stunned players as well as entire hordes of fans were caught silent with their mouths ajar. Angie bounced the ball she was given up and down in her palm.
“Never mind, where is the goal? Let’s put this bad boy in!”
Boo’s started to form around the stadium while the crew that was supposed to guide her to the pitcher’s base avoided her like she was a particularly big dropping from a giant bird that had just flown over the stadium. Dave was burying his head in shame inside his Cross Hemisphere Championship, wanting nothing more than to get the hell out of there.
Still, Angelica saw the people standing around the pitcher’s mound and figured that’s where she was needed. As Bordy chuckled at the sound of boos, Angie tried to bounce the ball off the grass surface, but failed to do so, just picking up the ball instead and resuming her way. As she arrived she gave the red-and-blue clad Texas Rangers a bright smile and an enthusiastic nod before tucking her blonde locks behind her ears.
“Oh boy, I feel like a real quarterback. Which one of you is the quarterback? Or, like, the striker, I guess? Oh hey, have you met my friends?”
Dave shuffled awkwardly closer, too ashamed to make eye contact with these elite athletes, while Bordy gracefully strode towards the mound.
“What is the wait?! Throw the ball! Or whatever it is you are supposed to do!”
Bordy turned her striking eyes on Dave and wove her hands.
“Instruct her!”
She then turned to the players at the mound with them.
“Or you peasants! Do your jobs, yes?”
The Rangers shared a look of confusion between one another as Dave sighed.
“Listen...there is a LOT wrong here…”
He gave the Rangers an apologetic shrug.
“She’s Canadian, and-”
“Candaian,” Angie corrected. Dave closed his eyes for a moment while taking a deep breath to calm himself.
“...she really doesn't get it. But she is a HELL of an athlete. She’ll get it over the plate.”
“Plate? What plate? Is it dinner time?”
Another long stare between the ballplayers and Dave. Finally, one of the players looked at Angie and tried to give her his best smile.
“You see the catcher?”
He pointed to a man in a mask and pads sixty feet away as Angie nodded.
“Just throw it to him, okay? As long as it’s even close, he’ll catch it.”
Angie gave him a big smile, as big she has ever given. The two ballplayers looked to one one another again, still clearly unsure, before they walked away. Angie stepped up onto the mound and placed her foot behind the rubber. She looked down at the white strip in confusion but then shook her head. She looked up at Dave and Bordy and gave them a smile, though it was filled with apprehension. Dave gave her a thumbs up, though his enthusiasm wasn’t matched in his eyes, and Bordy seemed ready for the whole ordeal to be done with.
Angie breathed deep as she turned to face the catcher. She had been in sports her entire life. Soccer. Football. Wrestling. This was nothing different. She breathed deep to steady herself and tried to match the picture of the pitcher Dave had texted her. She brought up her arms to her chest. Brought them up higher to her shoulders. She brought her knee up to her waist and then pushed forward on her legendary legs. She felt the ball leave her fingers, felt the stitches rub off her fingertips.
And saw the ball fly into the Rangers dugout.
“Oh noes!”
Angie’s face scrunched into abject horror. Behind her, Dave groaned and Bordy cackled. The crowd was silent. The players looked at her, some shaked their heads. A sigh was heard over the PA system, the announcer not bothering to hide his disappointment.
“Ladies and Gentlemen! The UGWC World Champion, Angie Vaughn!”
Boos rained over the stadium, but Angie didn’t really seem to notice for once. She shrugged, turned to the players and giggled.
“Oh well, it can’t always be a hole-in-one, but I’m sure that was like a bogey or something!”
“How have you used terms from every sport except ACTUAL baseball?” an annoyed Dave asked and he took her by the arm before starting to guide her away towards the tunnel. A cackling Bordy followed in their footsteps as fans threw their empty and half-full (that’s $6 of beer!) cups their way. With a reflex, Dave swatted away a hotdog bun that was about to hit him in the face. A smear of ketchup stained the back of his hand and he wiped it off on the shoulder of Angie’s Dodgers jersey.
“At least you won’t have to worry about them asking you ever again! Now let’s get out of here.”
“What, aren’t we gonna watch the game at least?”
“And get lynched??”
They entered the tunnel and Dave stopped, looking at both of them.
“Look, thanks for ruining a potentially perfect night. We just looked like a bunch of jackasses out of there. This was supposed to bring us together as a team… Your words! But we came across as a bunch of fools; do you think Hide, Zane and Holden will look at this footage and tremble in their boots because they see a polished, dangerous team coming at them?”
“Well, I had a good time,” Angie shrugged. “Right, Aveline?”
Bordy looked at Angie’s shoulder with a look of disgust.
“You have ketchup on your shirt.”
Angie looked down at it and gave a shrug, to which Bordy shook to head.
“Fun is subjectable, dau-”
She cut herself off with a quick glare at Dave.
“...child. I find fun in causing chaos and shaping it to God’s will. And out there?”
She motioned toward the edge of the tunnel and field.
“That is chaos. Well done.”
She turned her head to Dave.
“Trust me, Rydell, they WILL fear us. Three of us stand tall, above the rest of the rabble, above those who would aspire to even lick our boots. They-”
She didn’t notice Dave’s eyes glaze over. He had heard this many...MANY...times before.
“-WISH they could be us. They DREAM of being us. They sit in the darkness of their homes, whispering to God, of their hopes that they could be anything close to us. And as long as the two of you listen to me-”
She didn’t notice Angie rolling her eyes, either.
“-then those three cockroaches will not only cower in fear, they will WORSHIP the ground we walk upon! While you two failed at the precipice of history...something I did NOT do, as I am now officially the Chaos Champion more days than ANYONE else...you are STILL two of the champions within this company. Rydell!”
She turned to face Dave.
“Cross-Hemisphere Champion, fought over and coveted by the likes of Fear and the Blood Princess! Vaughn!”
She turned to face Angie again.
“World Champion! The smiter of Vain and the foolish such as Zane. And, of course, the very Edge of Blade of God, myself! Against what? Against who?! The wordless Hide? The feckless Orson? The ever-upward-failing Zane? I laugh at them! Laugh, I say!”
She did, indeed, laugh And despite everything, Dave found himself nodding towards the end. Aveline had a way with words, the incomparable gift of rallying people to her cause. Even Angelica didn’t seem unconvinced.
“Well, when you put it like THAT…”
She turned towards Dave.
“Look, things may not be the way they used to be, but what we did all those months as a team, that was no fluke. It didn’t come out of nowhere. We can do the same again, and Aveline is right, you know. WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS, like that Rolling Stones song!”
“Queen!”
“Oui?” piped up Bordy, but no one noticed.
“Whatevs. Same thing, basically. Look, we hold our titles for a reason, and Hide, Holden and Zane do not, also for a reason. They’re not going to show management they deserve a title shot of their own. Not at our expense. I know this may sound arrogant, but we’re too good for that. Haven’t we proven that?”
“...I certainly have…” mumbled Bordy. Angie gave her a stern look, her chin tilting upward, and Bordy rose her hands in submission.
“Assez, ma fille! You have earned your right. You both have. This team we face, this group of carelessly assembled failures and simpletons, have ZERO chance against us. Let them flounder! Let them stumble! Let the prove, AGAIN, that NONE of them are worth our notice. But ants beneath our boots! But children, untrained and unprepared, thrown into waters of a depth they cannot swim! Let us-”
“You had me at enough!” roared Dave. Bordy stared at him, her eyes wide as a bug, but he just shook his head. “Let's get out of here. I could REALLY use a beer.”
Angie’s face lit up like a firework.
“Totes!”
She turned and marched on her long legs, Dave right behind her. Bordy could do nothing but shake her head and follow.
~~fin~~
x2