Post by LACKLAN on Jun 8, 2018 23:21:42 GMT -5
“It’s not too late to stop this fighting and put the past to rest. You haven’t done anything that you can’t come back from.”
My body shakes as I make my way through the halls of the arena. The thing that the idiot girl had said, her attempt to bring this “family” together, has been going through my head for the last three days. I shake whenever I hear it. I howl whenever I say it. Over and again since that Friday night. Over and over and over.
“...haven’t done anything…”
The past. What I have done. So many texts. So many messages. He never knew who. Never knew who was pushing him. Guiding him. Who was being the mother he deserved. The mother-in-law her DESERVED.
-You deserve the crown-
-You deserve the girl-
-They play house and laugh at you while you be their servant-
-It was taken from you by her sinful lover-
-TAKE IT BACK-
-YOURS-
"You have no idea, child..."
My grip on her hand was like iron as I turned the corner and surprised her. This IDIOT girl, who threw away a loving mother in Sidney, how stomps on the Good Book with her false doctrine of Scientology, who galivants as one of those disgusting lesbians, with the flesh of my husband. She has no idea. NO IDEA.
"...what I have done..."
I feel my fingernails dig into her skin. I can't help myself. I can't keep it in. I held onto the truth on Friday. I was able to remember my husband’s teachings, remember the Path of the Light, and restrain myself. Do not let tomorrow’s plans be ruined by today’s passion. But now, after three days, after the Melee, I can’t. I can't-
"...to encourage him...to push him...to give him strength..."
STOP, AVA! Don't-
"...I did not mean to push him to do what he did..."
Her eyes are wide. So wide. They stand out light spotlights against her dark skin. My God, the Demon Child chose a black woman to be her mate. Jean must be so embarrassed from the Lord’s side.
"...but I do not regret that he did it. A life stolen to replace what I lost. Out of the Word itself: An eye for an eye."
Silence stretches. I can’t breathe as I admit it and my lungs fill to bursting. The pain is exquisite. My hands shake...shake violently...but then I realize that it is not my hands that are shaking. They are hers. They shake so much that my whole body is starting to move. I feel her pull away, rip her hand away.
THUMP
My eyes glaze over and I see stars. What happened? Why does my eye hurt? Why-
THUMP THUMP
My face feels warm. And slick. I don’t understand. Why does my face feel like fire? Why does-
THUMP THUMP THUMP
I feel something cold and hard against my back. The floor? How did I end up on the floor? And why is the black girl on top of me? Why-
THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP
Pain as I have rarely felt assaults me. The black girl’s fists fly back and forth, each time crashing into me. Where did this strength come from? Where did this rage come from? I hear voices. Distant. Screams and yells. But still her fists, now covered in red, rain down on me. Suddenly my head hurts. She grabbed my head and again slammed it into the floor. She grabs for my head again and-
THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP
I can barely breath and barely see. My eyes sting. I can only see a field of red. My head hurts more than it ever has. But the sting of cuts, the flash of lacerations, is welcome to me. The feeling in my forehead brings up dreams of my arms when locked away, when those years were taken from me. I raise my head as far as I can. I feel the blood pouring down from the laceration on my forehead that the girl has opened up. She is being pulled away by members of arena security, her arms flailing, her voice spitting out curses. I cannot help but smile and laugh.
This was not over…in fact…it was only just beginning…
~~Wednesday, June 6th, 2018
I have spent the last few days in this hospital after the idiot girl’s attack on me. My face is bruised, covered in deep welts and dark marks. The back of my head needed staples, along with the laceration from Friday which was reopened. I am under concussion protocol...for the THIRD time this year...and am being monitored by several different nurses. I hate this. I hate having to be at the mercy of some menial work force, but I put myself here. I made the idiot girl puppet dance on my string, made her do what I wanted her to do, and it is up to me to deal with the painful ramifications.
Redmaine is, as always, at my side. My rock. My strength. My support. It is HE who helped me when I was locked away. It was HE who sent messages to me, messages snuck in by faithful Minions who slipped messages under plates of tasteless food. It is HE who has stayed resolute to the Path of the Light when so many have abandoned it. It is HE who-
The door to my room opens barely even so much as a knock of courtesy. It is the idiot girl. And the Vaughn girl. Those eyes. I want them. I WANT THOSE EYES!
WHO DO THOSE EYES HAUNT ME?!
Redmaine moves in front of them but I want this. I need this.
“Redmaine, laisse-nous. La petite chienne n’est pas une menace pour moi.”
It was a warm welcome when I realized that Redmaine had learned French, or at least enough of it, so that I could feel at home at the compound. The demon child already knew it, had grown up learning it for some reason I was never able to figure out, but only she and Jean spoke it. Redmaine had taught himself a few greetings and phrases during my time at the compound, and had studied hard while I was locked away. I knew messages in French were from him personally, and not just something to keep me up to date with the goingson of Lacklanland. His were for me, to comfort me, to give me strength.
He mumbled a quick ”...my Queen…” before giving way. He was not pleased. I would have to make it up to him later. I might rather enjoy that. He stands against the wall with his arms at his side. To most, he would look as if at his ease. But I know better. I know that he is ready to pounce if need be. He is like a cat, seeming to lounge, but ready to spring at a moment’s notice. My rock.
“I hope you haven’t come here in the hopes that you’d get another chance to finish me off.”
Christ, my voice sounds thick. And it hurts to speak. Hmmm. The idiot girl and the Vaughn girl are holding hands. Interesting, that. I might be able to use th-
“Aveline…I- I’m here to tell you that…I’m sorry for…”
I nearly scream at her for evening THINKING that she can use my name! She does not DESERVE to use my name! She does not DESERVE to use my married name! SHE DOES NOT DESERVE ME!
"For not being good enough to finish the job? For not being able to do something on your own?"
I can see that my words cut deep. This idiot does NOTHING to hide her emotions. She wears them on her face! She wears her heart on her sleeve! When will she learn that she will NEVER succeed if she gives away EVERYTHING?!
"The truth of the matter, dear 'daughter,' is that you are NOT capable of getting ANYTHING done on your own. You are NOT capable of being a success on your own. You are NOT capable of being anything more than a whining child who pines for the adoration of imbeciles in a pathetic attempt to make herself feel relevant."
I lean forward as much as I can. I cannot lean forward much without my head swimming. Dear Lord, make this pain be worth it. Let the chaos I create give me what I need to bring order. Let Your grace be worth the pain. Please.
"You cannot win a match by yourself. You cannot defeat ME by yourself. Good Lord, child, you cannot even APOLOGIZE by yourself. You ALWAYS need people around you. You ALWAYS need people to do the hard work for you. You ALWAYS need to hold onto someone's coattails in order to not be left in the land of obscurity. You NEED these harsh lessons in life. Your demonic wife needs these harsh lessons in life. And it takes ME to give them to you."
I lean back in my seat. Slowly. No head swimming. Good. Let her see my face clearly. Let her see the mother she throws away. The SECOND wonderful mother she chooses to throw away!
"I know why you REALLY came here today. To thank me. I gave you and your demonic wife the most important lessons that a mother can offer. You may thank me now, child. I am ready to hear it."
She leans in close to me. Ugh...she stinks. What she and the demon child have become stink. The stench of failure wafts off them like the nauseating smell of a midden heap on a hot day!
“...I know why you did it and I understand, but I don’t forgive you because I love Sarah more than anything in this world...”
What...what is she...
“...I love Sarah more than you have ever loved anything in your entire twisted existence, especially Jean Paul...”
“...non...”
No...no...she knows NOTHING of love! She knows NOTHING of sacrifice! She knows no-
“...how long did it take you to escape from that institution? A long long time...so long that Jean Paul died waiting for you!”
IT WAS NOT MY FAULT! I COULD NOT! I TRIED! SHE STOLE HIM FROM ME.
“NON! HE IS THE LIGHT!”
“He died while you carved yourself up like a fucking Thanksgiving turkey!”
I try to lunge at the idiot girl but I cannot. My sudden movement, even this small, makes my head swim. THE IDIOT GIRL MUST PAY FOR HER LIES! I TRIED! I TRIED!
Redmaine is there. My strength. My rock. He grabs the idiot girl by her throat. I see her lifted into the air. Yes, Redmaine. YES! CRUSH HER THROAT! RIP HER AWFUL LIES FROM HER!
“...NON...NON...”
I try not to whimper. I try to have my defiance come out strong. But I cannot. The idiot girl...the IDIOT GIRL! The Vaughn girl jumps on Redmaine’s back, coming to her friend’s aid, but my rock is too strong. His faith in all that is good is too resolute. But then I see the girl step back and send her foot into the back of his head. He stumbles. Kenzi falls to the ground. I hope that hurt. Now the room fills with nurses and the two children are out of my room.
Redmaine is at my side.
”Red Queen. Are okay?”
I nod. I pat him on his shoulder. His muscles feel good under my hand. He is so strong.
The idiot girl WILL pay for this. She WILL continue to dance for me.
Dance, my puppet.
Dance.
~~Friday, June 8th~~
Le Bord de Dieu shut her eyes as sunlight assaulted her as the car door was opened. The woman wore sunglasses but they did little to alieve the pain caused by the concussion she had received a few days before. She groaned as she stepped out of the car, helped out by the hand of the hulking Redmaine, and winced as the sound of the door being slammed shut behind her made her head pound.
”Must everything be so loud, Redmaine?”
She held her head in her hands as the two made their way through the parking lot and towards the Hit Girls stadium. Her head still ached from the beating she had received from Kenzi Grey on Monday, a beating spurred on by her admission that she had been the one pushing and prodding Jacob Hargrave. She had been the one getting into the boy’s head. She had been the one to convince him that if he was not given what he deserved, then he should take it. She tried to stop herself, tried to hold back, but she couldn’t. It came bursting out of her. She had held onto her secrets for far too long.
She and Redmaine were greeted at the door of the Hit Girl Arena by some random member of the staff. Bordy had not bothered to learn any of their names or faces. They were no better than a chair or a lamp in a room. She was actually quite surprised that she was even still a part of the LFL team and the anti-bullying campaign event. The revelation of who she was right before she became the Champion of Chaos had been a shocking event in and of itself, but the further information of her involvement in Sarah’s “accident” should have put a wedge between herself and the little world she had invaded that could not be penetrated or crossed. Yet somehow, she was still here. She was still on the CTN payroll, still on the LFL team.
She eventually enters a room filled with people. Children sit on the ground, legs tucked underneath them, before a small stage in somewhat orderly rows. Bordy liked children, as long as they were well-behaved, and this large amount would be fun to work with and manipulate. Bordy liked manipulating. She liked moving people around as if they were pieces on a chess board. She played many games of chess with her husband. Learned much of the game from him. She taught him a few chicks of her own, of course, learned from the life of Ava. Ava had been a life-time ago, as if from another century entirely.
The room had many other people in it, adults, with more of the faceless people from the Hit Girls staff as well as various CTN officials she recognized from the Circle Television Network home office where she produced her occasional advice show, Dear Bordy. She even saw a few of her fellow Hit Girls, though they were mostly members of the team she had little interaction with. Bordy thought the entire enterprise was idiotic, why would women EVER want to play football in their underwear, anyway, but she personally had her reasons. And she reveled in being able to hit people hard and often. And it turns out that she was quite good! She had been able to sack the opposing team’s quarterback at least once in every game.
Bordy looks up as she and Redmaine are escorted in and does her best to not chuckle when she sees the banner strung up from the rafters. The event proudly declared itself “STOMP OUT BULLYING” and most likely did not even realize that it was admitting to itself that this entire affair, and even the very concept of it, was a SOB story. She passed under the banner and tried not to roll her eyes too far under her sunglasses and over to the section of the event she was supposed to be a part of. The week had been full of events for the cause, though Bordy had blessedly been excused from them due to the concussion protocol she was under, but she had been unable to worm her way out of this one. Still, this WAS a good opportunity to influence the children.
Some staff member rambled at her but she didn’t bother to listen. Her thoughts, as they had been for the last week, were fully upon the issue concerning Kenzi Grey. She hated the idiot child, hated both her as a person and her as a concept, and had become focused on their impending match on Monday. It had been booked ahead of time, most likely because of Chaos having his finger on the pulse of UGWC better than even Hastings, but now it was for far more than anyone had imagined. The idiot girl had unleashed hellfire upon her when she was not expecting it, at least not to that extent, and six days to stew in her anger would only make her that much more violent. Bordy liked that. Bordy had planned for that. But every moment needed preparation and consideration.
She climbed the steps up to the stage after her name was called by some other useless woman at the podium. Luckily, there was no playing of her wrestling theme music this time, just polite, if forced, applause from the children. Her heeled boots clacked loudly on the wooden stage as she made her way across. She liked that. She stood at the podium and gazed out over the crowd of children, sparring a glance at the notes prepared for her by the CTN staff, and again, as she had done at MomCon18, allowed her thoughts to drift into the past.
~November 7th, 2017~~
The Frenchwoman in the rags stood outside the small electronics store with the sheer glaze of madness in her eyes. Her hair was stringy and dirty, the grey streaks nearly as dark as her brunette due to the amount of dirt they carried. Her face was sallow, the lines of worry and age etched deeply in them, giving her the face which dreggs up thoughts of skeletons and zombies. The cloak she wore was indeed no more than rags, dirty and torn in many places, and they gave off an odor that repulsed the others standing around her. The group of people gave her space at the center of their circle, each not wanting to be too near her, but each also equally enthralled by the action on the television screen inside the store, viewed through the display window. It was a cold and dreary day, as most were at this time in Maine, but there was electricity in the air as the news broke:
Sarah Lacklan, the heir to the fortune of that crazy man on the religious compound off the Penebscot River, had been kidnapped. Her abductor, allegedly a former member of the crazy’s man’s private security force, and probably a member of his cult, to boot, was running from the police. Cameras could clearly see Sarah in the car, the bright hair of the albino unmistakable, and the car was speeding across the freeway, weaving in and out of traffic, in an extremely dangerous way. Silence was the sound of the group, each holding their breath, until a collective gasp erupted from the group as the inevitable happened:
The car lost control and slammed into a divider. It folded like an accordian.
The Frenchwoman in the rags smiled. All around her, faces turned to anguish and shock. Many had followed the antics of the heiress, both loving what she said and did and hating it, ever looking away for a moment. A few women began to openly weep.
But still the Frenchwoman smiled.
She gained more space as people started to notice the homeless woman’s reaction. Men stepped before their wives, wives pushed children behind them.
The Frenchwoman began to cackle.
The group dispersed, none wanting to be around the smelly lunatic. Off to the local pub to talk, off to the internet cafe to post, off to quiet corners to make phone calls. This was big news in Maine, if perhaps not in other places, for the Lacklan family had been a major part of the Bangor area for multiple generations, from the establishment of their plastics manufacturing plant by Sarah’s grandfather and to the religious cult compound set up by her father.
The Frenchwoman fell to her knees and cried up into the heavens.
“Oeil pour oeil! Dent pour une dent!”
She fell forward onto her elbows as the grey day turned into a light mist. Coats where drawn close and mothers rushed children away. The ugly cloak whipped around the woman as a wind joined the mist.
”...la vie pour la vie...”
Le Bord de Dieu looked down at the carefully prepared speech she was given. She thought briefly of the slut she used to be, Ava. Thought of the queen she became as Aveline. Of the mad creature she became because of the Demon Child. And of how she clawed her way back into something somewhat resembling who she was meant to be. She used one of her manicured hands to push the cards to the ground, and allowed Aveline Lacklan to speak.
Dear children,
Over the last few days you have been subjected to a series of “events” which have carried the anti-bully sentiments of “Stomp On Bullying.” But I suppose the real question here is “What IS a bully?” The people behind this event would have you believe that a “bully” is someone who presses their advantage. They would have you believe that a “bully” would use tactics and strategies that make others feel “bad” or sorry for themselves. They would have you believe that a “bully” is someone who stands upon their convictions and refuses to waver. But I am here, dear children, to show you the folly of their ways. I am here to provide you with a dose of truth! The truth of the Path of the Light!
Wednesday featured their overly long video on how only a “bully” presses their advantage when their “victim” is in trouble or hurt. I am offended by these lies! In this scenario, the bully is merely the victor and the victim the loser! In life, there MUST be winners and losers! There MUST be those who take advantage of one’s shortcomings or failings! In life, there MUST be those who are brave enough to risk everything they have and are for the chance of victory and the subsequent spoils of war. This idea of having an unfair advantage pressed is simply propaganda created by the losers for justifying their pathetic existence! After all, it is ONLY because of the vicious bully “cheating” that the loser lost in the first place, yes? NO! This is false! This is a lie! If the loser did not want to lose, then they would not be losers! Do NOT cast the blame of loss on the victors and use that to justify how pathetic you are in life! Do NOT be a Mathis in the face of a Wallace! Do NOT blame the complete and utter failure of a false revolution on OTHER people!
Thursday a play about how “bullies” use tactics and strategies to make “victims” feel back about themselves. A play! About things like social media! I am SO sorry for you, dear children, for having to sit through that! The ONLY reason the “bullies” are perceived as such is because the “victims” find a need to whine and complain at ALL times are are CONSTANTLY looking for sympathy from others! The skinny girl with no self esteem who says “OMG I AM SO FAT” hoping for her friends to say “OH NO YOU ARE NOT YOU ARE SO PRETTY” absolutely DESERVE someone who is a “bully” to agree with them on how fat they are! They DESERVE for the “bully” to tell them that they look so much like Ken Dynamo as to be twins! The perpetual losers like a Mizore or a Bunny might well find themselves crying out that some “bully” will not leave them alone, will not stop reminding them of their failings as fighters or as even human beings. “Stop reminding us of the reality of our failures!” they cry. “Stop reminding me of my eating disorder!” cries Dynamo. “Stop reminding me of how I completely disrespected this company and my opponent by blowing off my match stipulation and doing whatever the fuck I wanted to regardless of if it had anything to do with what mattered” cries The Answer. But no! People with TRUE integrity will NOT bow down to the pitiful desires of losers! People with TRUE grit will NOT bow down by giving in to the whims of those with no self respect. NO! These people are NOT bullies! The are agents of truth!
And earlier today, you were subjected to a speech after speech by people who believe that you should take your beliefs and hide them so as not to hurt the feelings of others. But those lies STOP HERE! I will NOT take my convictions and throw them in the trash! I will NOT set that trash can aflame and kick it down the street! I will NOT allow this trend of giving in to Satan’s base desires so that others may feel welcome or included. No! It is NOT being a “bully” to tell a man laying with a man that they are going to the Lake of Fire! It is NOT being a “bully” to tell some pagan worshiping a false idol that they have an eternity of torment coming their way! It is NOT being a “bully” to stand resolute as a rock against the tide of sin that is today’s complacency and REFUSE to give in to the world’s social understanding crumbling into rubble!
DO YOU HEAR ME, KENZI GREY?!
You have lived your LIFE as a lie! You have spent every moment of your life as a pathetic wretch who, no matter WHAT face she puts on, has whined and complained about everything someone does, all in the name of them being “bullies.”
“I never knew my father.”
“My mother didn’t love me enough.”
“My fiance left me at the altar.”
“My second fiance went to New York with someone she barely knew.”
“You personally caused my wife to lose three months of her life”
Get over your victim complex already, Kenzi. All of us understand that if any small thing does not go your way, then not only is your entire day ruined, but so are the days of everyone around you. EVERYTHING must be about you. EVERYTHING must be about your name and your inferiority complex with trying to deal with having such a wonderful, caring, loving, and successful mother. You took away her reality show because it MUST be about you. You cheated your way to your first victory because you lost every match you had for a year and you MUST be seen as a winner. You practically FORCED your idiot friends Kate, Melissa, Stephanie, and Cassie to join you in your TERRIBLE band so that YOU could be a star and the center of the stage. YOU made an entire FILM as an allegory to your whoa-is-me love life so that large audiences could thrust their pity upon you. YOU purchased an LFL franchise so that you can be the face of an entire brand in order to fill your glutinous need for fame.
YOU lied to a tag team partner about sharing some sort of amorous sin in order to win tag team championships because YOU needed to wear gold. YOU have lived a life of lies, cheating, and whoring. YOU have gotten people thrown in jail because you wanted what they had. YOU have tried to break up multiple relationships because you wanted one of the people in them. YOU have assaulted friends and foes alike with complete disregard to fairness or even reason. YOU have suckered people into your graces by claiming your silly “clarity” and your believe in helping others, only to viciously attack someone who LOVES you enough to HURT you when you needed it the most!
WHY HAVEN’T YOU THANKED ME?!
Do you know how much strength it takes to play a chess game that would cause this much chaos in the lives of those you love? Do you realize how much integrity it takes to inflict this much pain? Do you realize how much internal fortitude it takes to spend time in the presence of whores such as yourself in order to fix them?!
WHY HAVEN’T YOU THANKED ME?!
I THOUGHT that my time spent washing the feet of the homeless, the outcasts of society, would help me in my dealings with you. I THOUGHT that helping the lepers find treatment, helping the transients find homes, helping the lost find family, would give me the strength to deal with you. Unfortunately, I have found that YOUR overwhelming sinful nature is so far beyond even the dregs of human society that even all of the experience I had with them COMBINED was not enough for you!
WHY HAVEN’T YOU THANKED ME?!
From the MOMENT I got out of that prison they called a “hospital,” I knew that I needed to fix your demonic wife. From the MOMENT I left my husband’s gravesite, I knew that I had to save his name, had to save his legacy. 20 years as a wrestler! 20 years collection championships and rings, of changing the business for God’s pleasure! 20 years ready to be trust to the side of the road because his progeny, his only child, decided that pleasures of the physical world, pleasures offered by Satan, were better than what God has planned. I knew that change had to happen to save my husband’s name. It was up to ME for him to be risen.
WHY HAVEN’T YOU THANKED ME?!
Do you realize how annoying it was to track you two for an entire year?! Do you have ANY idea how filthy and depraved I felt watching what you two did across the world? Kicked out of places for your deprived live sex shows! Nearly thrown out of your apartment for all of the racket that you make! Making enemies and friends of the most unlikely people! And EVERY step of the way, you have not only SQUANDERED everything that the Path of the Light has given you, but you have SPIT ON IT! That demon of yours has taken EVERYTHING that her wonderful father taught her about being a person who lives in God’s grace, EVERYTHING that Nikita taught her of being a wrestler, and threw it in the trash while she decided to dance around in her underwear for you in that terrible movie! And all I have done since breathing my first breath of fresh air in four years was set a plan in place to HELP her remember who and what she is supposed to be!
WHY HAVEN’T YOU THANKED ME?!
The Path of the Light teaches that you must change the world with your bare hands, must bring together those of like mind in order to spread His vision, and change the world for good. And all that you two have done is act like imbecilic whores, gather a troop of like-minded whores, and embarrass yourselves all across the wrestling world. Whereas before, the name of Lacklan made men, strong men, wet themselves in fear, and now all that that name means is people rolling their eyes and making jokes about sanitation collection. But I have brought respect back to that name from the first time it escaped my lips as I became the Champion of Chaos. I have given you BOTH an opportunity to have something to live up to and be proud of something.
WHY HAVEN’T YOU THANKED ME?!
You two needed to slow down. You two needed to be less exposed. You two needed something to shake you from your silly dreams and instead be reminded of the reality of this world. I made that happen. I encouraged Jacob. I pushed Jacob. I pressed Jacob. I reminded him of what the demon girl’s arrogance and flippant attitude robbed him of. I reminded him of his birthright. And while, as I said on Monday, did not tell him what to do, he did exactly what he should have. I am proud of him for pursuing his dreams, for trying to take what was his, regardless of whether or not he was able to succeed in the end. But he did succeed in what was most important.
He ended your dream and brought you back to the real world. I am as proud of him as any mother-in-law could be.
WHY HAVEN’T YOU THANKED ME?!
So come at me with your selfish anger, child. Come at me with everything you have. Come at me with every half-conceived plot or strategy. By all means, spend time with the Vaughn girl and the vixen Cotton; learn from them in how to lose the important matches and let down the people who mean the most to you in the world. By all means, spend time with the idiot pothead Sativa and make jokes about four and twenty, or perhaps the lazy log that is Crowthorne and learn to only play in your safe spaces. By all means, go to all of the friends you have stabbed in the back over the years in order to have them tell you “Oh no, Kenzi, you are SO not a terrible person! We totally forgive you for all the times you threw us to the side of the road in order to gain something immaterial or unimportant!”
Come at me with your empty arsenal of weapons, Kenzi Grey. Come at me with a career that only Ladies All Star could call “hall of fame” worthy when the only thing you EVER did on your own...EVER...in two years of fighting there was win ONE match against other champions before being buried the rest of the year until the company folded. Come at me with your “undefeated” streak as tag champions in Canada when there isn’t a SINGLE victory to your name that was not handed to you by outside interference or by blatant cheating. Come at me with your career in Las Vegas where the only thing more remarkable than getting too drunk to remember getting married was being pinned by a journalist to lose a championship belt. Come at me with your career in UGWC where your claim to fame is being the first person on your Outlast team to be eliminated and having ONE victory to your name when your mother, who is admittedly a true sweetheart, saved you from losing to a listless child who never deserved to make even occasional appearances at our level.
COME AT ME WITH YOUR CAREER OF FAILURE AND EMBARRASSMENT, KENZI!
I will come at you with my career of excellence. I will come at you as the person most feared within the Coalition. I will come at you as the person how has been the star of the company every single week across the entire year. I will come at you as the most respected champion within the business, the Champion of Chaos. I will come at you as the mother you do not deserve but woefully need.
I will come at you as a Lacklan.
And you WILL thank me later.
Bonne nuit.
My body shakes as I make my way through the halls of the arena. The thing that the idiot girl had said, her attempt to bring this “family” together, has been going through my head for the last three days. I shake whenever I hear it. I howl whenever I say it. Over and again since that Friday night. Over and over and over.
“...haven’t done anything…”
The past. What I have done. So many texts. So many messages. He never knew who. Never knew who was pushing him. Guiding him. Who was being the mother he deserved. The mother-in-law her DESERVED.
-You deserve the crown-
-You deserve the girl-
-They play house and laugh at you while you be their servant-
-It was taken from you by her sinful lover-
-TAKE IT BACK-
-YOURS-
"You have no idea, child..."
My grip on her hand was like iron as I turned the corner and surprised her. This IDIOT girl, who threw away a loving mother in Sidney, how stomps on the Good Book with her false doctrine of Scientology, who galivants as one of those disgusting lesbians, with the flesh of my husband. She has no idea. NO IDEA.
"...what I have done..."
I feel my fingernails dig into her skin. I can't help myself. I can't keep it in. I held onto the truth on Friday. I was able to remember my husband’s teachings, remember the Path of the Light, and restrain myself. Do not let tomorrow’s plans be ruined by today’s passion. But now, after three days, after the Melee, I can’t. I can't-
"...to encourage him...to push him...to give him strength..."
STOP, AVA! Don't-
"...I did not mean to push him to do what he did..."
Her eyes are wide. So wide. They stand out light spotlights against her dark skin. My God, the Demon Child chose a black woman to be her mate. Jean must be so embarrassed from the Lord’s side.
"...but I do not regret that he did it. A life stolen to replace what I lost. Out of the Word itself: An eye for an eye."
Silence stretches. I can’t breathe as I admit it and my lungs fill to bursting. The pain is exquisite. My hands shake...shake violently...but then I realize that it is not my hands that are shaking. They are hers. They shake so much that my whole body is starting to move. I feel her pull away, rip her hand away.
THUMP
My eyes glaze over and I see stars. What happened? Why does my eye hurt? Why-
THUMP THUMP
My face feels warm. And slick. I don’t understand. Why does my face feel like fire? Why does-
THUMP THUMP THUMP
I feel something cold and hard against my back. The floor? How did I end up on the floor? And why is the black girl on top of me? Why-
THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP
Pain as I have rarely felt assaults me. The black girl’s fists fly back and forth, each time crashing into me. Where did this strength come from? Where did this rage come from? I hear voices. Distant. Screams and yells. But still her fists, now covered in red, rain down on me. Suddenly my head hurts. She grabbed my head and again slammed it into the floor. She grabs for my head again and-
THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP
I can barely breath and barely see. My eyes sting. I can only see a field of red. My head hurts more than it ever has. But the sting of cuts, the flash of lacerations, is welcome to me. The feeling in my forehead brings up dreams of my arms when locked away, when those years were taken from me. I raise my head as far as I can. I feel the blood pouring down from the laceration on my forehead that the girl has opened up. She is being pulled away by members of arena security, her arms flailing, her voice spitting out curses. I cannot help but smile and laugh.
This was not over…in fact…it was only just beginning…
Marionnette sur la chord
~~Wednesday, June 6th, 2018
I have spent the last few days in this hospital after the idiot girl’s attack on me. My face is bruised, covered in deep welts and dark marks. The back of my head needed staples, along with the laceration from Friday which was reopened. I am under concussion protocol...for the THIRD time this year...and am being monitored by several different nurses. I hate this. I hate having to be at the mercy of some menial work force, but I put myself here. I made the idiot girl puppet dance on my string, made her do what I wanted her to do, and it is up to me to deal with the painful ramifications.
Redmaine is, as always, at my side. My rock. My strength. My support. It is HE who helped me when I was locked away. It was HE who sent messages to me, messages snuck in by faithful Minions who slipped messages under plates of tasteless food. It is HE who has stayed resolute to the Path of the Light when so many have abandoned it. It is HE who-
The door to my room opens barely even so much as a knock of courtesy. It is the idiot girl. And the Vaughn girl. Those eyes. I want them. I WANT THOSE EYES!
WHO DO THOSE EYES HAUNT ME?!
Redmaine moves in front of them but I want this. I need this.
“Redmaine, laisse-nous. La petite chienne n’est pas une menace pour moi.”
It was a warm welcome when I realized that Redmaine had learned French, or at least enough of it, so that I could feel at home at the compound. The demon child already knew it, had grown up learning it for some reason I was never able to figure out, but only she and Jean spoke it. Redmaine had taught himself a few greetings and phrases during my time at the compound, and had studied hard while I was locked away. I knew messages in French were from him personally, and not just something to keep me up to date with the goingson of Lacklanland. His were for me, to comfort me, to give me strength.
He mumbled a quick ”...my Queen…” before giving way. He was not pleased. I would have to make it up to him later. I might rather enjoy that. He stands against the wall with his arms at his side. To most, he would look as if at his ease. But I know better. I know that he is ready to pounce if need be. He is like a cat, seeming to lounge, but ready to spring at a moment’s notice. My rock.
“I hope you haven’t come here in the hopes that you’d get another chance to finish me off.”
Christ, my voice sounds thick. And it hurts to speak. Hmmm. The idiot girl and the Vaughn girl are holding hands. Interesting, that. I might be able to use th-
“Aveline…I- I’m here to tell you that…I’m sorry for…”
I nearly scream at her for evening THINKING that she can use my name! She does not DESERVE to use my name! She does not DESERVE to use my married name! SHE DOES NOT DESERVE ME!
"For not being good enough to finish the job? For not being able to do something on your own?"
I can see that my words cut deep. This idiot does NOTHING to hide her emotions. She wears them on her face! She wears her heart on her sleeve! When will she learn that she will NEVER succeed if she gives away EVERYTHING?!
"The truth of the matter, dear 'daughter,' is that you are NOT capable of getting ANYTHING done on your own. You are NOT capable of being a success on your own. You are NOT capable of being anything more than a whining child who pines for the adoration of imbeciles in a pathetic attempt to make herself feel relevant."
I lean forward as much as I can. I cannot lean forward much without my head swimming. Dear Lord, make this pain be worth it. Let the chaos I create give me what I need to bring order. Let Your grace be worth the pain. Please.
"You cannot win a match by yourself. You cannot defeat ME by yourself. Good Lord, child, you cannot even APOLOGIZE by yourself. You ALWAYS need people around you. You ALWAYS need people to do the hard work for you. You ALWAYS need to hold onto someone's coattails in order to not be left in the land of obscurity. You NEED these harsh lessons in life. Your demonic wife needs these harsh lessons in life. And it takes ME to give them to you."
I lean back in my seat. Slowly. No head swimming. Good. Let her see my face clearly. Let her see the mother she throws away. The SECOND wonderful mother she chooses to throw away!
"I know why you REALLY came here today. To thank me. I gave you and your demonic wife the most important lessons that a mother can offer. You may thank me now, child. I am ready to hear it."
She leans in close to me. Ugh...she stinks. What she and the demon child have become stink. The stench of failure wafts off them like the nauseating smell of a midden heap on a hot day!
“...I know why you did it and I understand, but I don’t forgive you because I love Sarah more than anything in this world...”
What...what is she...
“...I love Sarah more than you have ever loved anything in your entire twisted existence, especially Jean Paul...”
“...non...”
No...no...she knows NOTHING of love! She knows NOTHING of sacrifice! She knows no-
“...how long did it take you to escape from that institution? A long long time...so long that Jean Paul died waiting for you!”
IT WAS NOT MY FAULT! I COULD NOT! I TRIED! SHE STOLE HIM FROM ME.
“NON! HE IS THE LIGHT!”
“He died while you carved yourself up like a fucking Thanksgiving turkey!”
I try to lunge at the idiot girl but I cannot. My sudden movement, even this small, makes my head swim. THE IDIOT GIRL MUST PAY FOR HER LIES! I TRIED! I TRIED!
Redmaine is there. My strength. My rock. He grabs the idiot girl by her throat. I see her lifted into the air. Yes, Redmaine. YES! CRUSH HER THROAT! RIP HER AWFUL LIES FROM HER!
“...NON...NON...”
I try not to whimper. I try to have my defiance come out strong. But I cannot. The idiot girl...the IDIOT GIRL! The Vaughn girl jumps on Redmaine’s back, coming to her friend’s aid, but my rock is too strong. His faith in all that is good is too resolute. But then I see the girl step back and send her foot into the back of his head. He stumbles. Kenzi falls to the ground. I hope that hurt. Now the room fills with nurses and the two children are out of my room.
Redmaine is at my side.
”Red Queen. Are okay?”
I nod. I pat him on his shoulder. His muscles feel good under my hand. He is so strong.
The idiot girl WILL pay for this. She WILL continue to dance for me.
Dance, my puppet.
Dance.
~~Friday, June 8th~~
Le Bord de Dieu shut her eyes as sunlight assaulted her as the car door was opened. The woman wore sunglasses but they did little to alieve the pain caused by the concussion she had received a few days before. She groaned as she stepped out of the car, helped out by the hand of the hulking Redmaine, and winced as the sound of the door being slammed shut behind her made her head pound.
”Must everything be so loud, Redmaine?”
She held her head in her hands as the two made their way through the parking lot and towards the Hit Girls stadium. Her head still ached from the beating she had received from Kenzi Grey on Monday, a beating spurred on by her admission that she had been the one pushing and prodding Jacob Hargrave. She had been the one getting into the boy’s head. She had been the one to convince him that if he was not given what he deserved, then he should take it. She tried to stop herself, tried to hold back, but she couldn’t. It came bursting out of her. She had held onto her secrets for far too long.
She and Redmaine were greeted at the door of the Hit Girl Arena by some random member of the staff. Bordy had not bothered to learn any of their names or faces. They were no better than a chair or a lamp in a room. She was actually quite surprised that she was even still a part of the LFL team and the anti-bullying campaign event. The revelation of who she was right before she became the Champion of Chaos had been a shocking event in and of itself, but the further information of her involvement in Sarah’s “accident” should have put a wedge between herself and the little world she had invaded that could not be penetrated or crossed. Yet somehow, she was still here. She was still on the CTN payroll, still on the LFL team.
She eventually enters a room filled with people. Children sit on the ground, legs tucked underneath them, before a small stage in somewhat orderly rows. Bordy liked children, as long as they were well-behaved, and this large amount would be fun to work with and manipulate. Bordy liked manipulating. She liked moving people around as if they were pieces on a chess board. She played many games of chess with her husband. Learned much of the game from him. She taught him a few chicks of her own, of course, learned from the life of Ava. Ava had been a life-time ago, as if from another century entirely.
The room had many other people in it, adults, with more of the faceless people from the Hit Girls staff as well as various CTN officials she recognized from the Circle Television Network home office where she produced her occasional advice show, Dear Bordy. She even saw a few of her fellow Hit Girls, though they were mostly members of the team she had little interaction with. Bordy thought the entire enterprise was idiotic, why would women EVER want to play football in their underwear, anyway, but she personally had her reasons. And she reveled in being able to hit people hard and often. And it turns out that she was quite good! She had been able to sack the opposing team’s quarterback at least once in every game.
Bordy looks up as she and Redmaine are escorted in and does her best to not chuckle when she sees the banner strung up from the rafters. The event proudly declared itself “STOMP OUT BULLYING” and most likely did not even realize that it was admitting to itself that this entire affair, and even the very concept of it, was a SOB story. She passed under the banner and tried not to roll her eyes too far under her sunglasses and over to the section of the event she was supposed to be a part of. The week had been full of events for the cause, though Bordy had blessedly been excused from them due to the concussion protocol she was under, but she had been unable to worm her way out of this one. Still, this WAS a good opportunity to influence the children.
Some staff member rambled at her but she didn’t bother to listen. Her thoughts, as they had been for the last week, were fully upon the issue concerning Kenzi Grey. She hated the idiot child, hated both her as a person and her as a concept, and had become focused on their impending match on Monday. It had been booked ahead of time, most likely because of Chaos having his finger on the pulse of UGWC better than even Hastings, but now it was for far more than anyone had imagined. The idiot girl had unleashed hellfire upon her when she was not expecting it, at least not to that extent, and six days to stew in her anger would only make her that much more violent. Bordy liked that. Bordy had planned for that. But every moment needed preparation and consideration.
She climbed the steps up to the stage after her name was called by some other useless woman at the podium. Luckily, there was no playing of her wrestling theme music this time, just polite, if forced, applause from the children. Her heeled boots clacked loudly on the wooden stage as she made her way across. She liked that. She stood at the podium and gazed out over the crowd of children, sparring a glance at the notes prepared for her by the CTN staff, and again, as she had done at MomCon18, allowed her thoughts to drift into the past.
~November 7th, 2017~~
The Frenchwoman in the rags stood outside the small electronics store with the sheer glaze of madness in her eyes. Her hair was stringy and dirty, the grey streaks nearly as dark as her brunette due to the amount of dirt they carried. Her face was sallow, the lines of worry and age etched deeply in them, giving her the face which dreggs up thoughts of skeletons and zombies. The cloak she wore was indeed no more than rags, dirty and torn in many places, and they gave off an odor that repulsed the others standing around her. The group of people gave her space at the center of their circle, each not wanting to be too near her, but each also equally enthralled by the action on the television screen inside the store, viewed through the display window. It was a cold and dreary day, as most were at this time in Maine, but there was electricity in the air as the news broke:
Sarah Lacklan, the heir to the fortune of that crazy man on the religious compound off the Penebscot River, had been kidnapped. Her abductor, allegedly a former member of the crazy’s man’s private security force, and probably a member of his cult, to boot, was running from the police. Cameras could clearly see Sarah in the car, the bright hair of the albino unmistakable, and the car was speeding across the freeway, weaving in and out of traffic, in an extremely dangerous way. Silence was the sound of the group, each holding their breath, until a collective gasp erupted from the group as the inevitable happened:
The car lost control and slammed into a divider. It folded like an accordian.
The Frenchwoman in the rags smiled. All around her, faces turned to anguish and shock. Many had followed the antics of the heiress, both loving what she said and did and hating it, ever looking away for a moment. A few women began to openly weep.
But still the Frenchwoman smiled.
She gained more space as people started to notice the homeless woman’s reaction. Men stepped before their wives, wives pushed children behind them.
The Frenchwoman began to cackle.
The group dispersed, none wanting to be around the smelly lunatic. Off to the local pub to talk, off to the internet cafe to post, off to quiet corners to make phone calls. This was big news in Maine, if perhaps not in other places, for the Lacklan family had been a major part of the Bangor area for multiple generations, from the establishment of their plastics manufacturing plant by Sarah’s grandfather and to the religious cult compound set up by her father.
The Frenchwoman fell to her knees and cried up into the heavens.
“Oeil pour oeil! Dent pour une dent!”
She fell forward onto her elbows as the grey day turned into a light mist. Coats where drawn close and mothers rushed children away. The ugly cloak whipped around the woman as a wind joined the mist.
”...la vie pour la vie...”
Le Bord de Dieu looked down at the carefully prepared speech she was given. She thought briefly of the slut she used to be, Ava. Thought of the queen she became as Aveline. Of the mad creature she became because of the Demon Child. And of how she clawed her way back into something somewhat resembling who she was meant to be. She used one of her manicured hands to push the cards to the ground, and allowed Aveline Lacklan to speak.
Dear children,
Over the last few days you have been subjected to a series of “events” which have carried the anti-bully sentiments of “Stomp On Bullying.” But I suppose the real question here is “What IS a bully?” The people behind this event would have you believe that a “bully” is someone who presses their advantage. They would have you believe that a “bully” would use tactics and strategies that make others feel “bad” or sorry for themselves. They would have you believe that a “bully” is someone who stands upon their convictions and refuses to waver. But I am here, dear children, to show you the folly of their ways. I am here to provide you with a dose of truth! The truth of the Path of the Light!
Wednesday featured their overly long video on how only a “bully” presses their advantage when their “victim” is in trouble or hurt. I am offended by these lies! In this scenario, the bully is merely the victor and the victim the loser! In life, there MUST be winners and losers! There MUST be those who take advantage of one’s shortcomings or failings! In life, there MUST be those who are brave enough to risk everything they have and are for the chance of victory and the subsequent spoils of war. This idea of having an unfair advantage pressed is simply propaganda created by the losers for justifying their pathetic existence! After all, it is ONLY because of the vicious bully “cheating” that the loser lost in the first place, yes? NO! This is false! This is a lie! If the loser did not want to lose, then they would not be losers! Do NOT cast the blame of loss on the victors and use that to justify how pathetic you are in life! Do NOT be a Mathis in the face of a Wallace! Do NOT blame the complete and utter failure of a false revolution on OTHER people!
Thursday a play about how “bullies” use tactics and strategies to make “victims” feel back about themselves. A play! About things like social media! I am SO sorry for you, dear children, for having to sit through that! The ONLY reason the “bullies” are perceived as such is because the “victims” find a need to whine and complain at ALL times are are CONSTANTLY looking for sympathy from others! The skinny girl with no self esteem who says “OMG I AM SO FAT” hoping for her friends to say “OH NO YOU ARE NOT YOU ARE SO PRETTY” absolutely DESERVE someone who is a “bully” to agree with them on how fat they are! They DESERVE for the “bully” to tell them that they look so much like Ken Dynamo as to be twins! The perpetual losers like a Mizore or a Bunny might well find themselves crying out that some “bully” will not leave them alone, will not stop reminding them of their failings as fighters or as even human beings. “Stop reminding us of the reality of our failures!” they cry. “Stop reminding me of my eating disorder!” cries Dynamo. “Stop reminding me of how I completely disrespected this company and my opponent by blowing off my match stipulation and doing whatever the fuck I wanted to regardless of if it had anything to do with what mattered” cries The Answer. But no! People with TRUE integrity will NOT bow down to the pitiful desires of losers! People with TRUE grit will NOT bow down by giving in to the whims of those with no self respect. NO! These people are NOT bullies! The are agents of truth!
And earlier today, you were subjected to a speech after speech by people who believe that you should take your beliefs and hide them so as not to hurt the feelings of others. But those lies STOP HERE! I will NOT take my convictions and throw them in the trash! I will NOT set that trash can aflame and kick it down the street! I will NOT allow this trend of giving in to Satan’s base desires so that others may feel welcome or included. No! It is NOT being a “bully” to tell a man laying with a man that they are going to the Lake of Fire! It is NOT being a “bully” to tell some pagan worshiping a false idol that they have an eternity of torment coming their way! It is NOT being a “bully” to stand resolute as a rock against the tide of sin that is today’s complacency and REFUSE to give in to the world’s social understanding crumbling into rubble!
DO YOU HEAR ME, KENZI GREY?!
You have lived your LIFE as a lie! You have spent every moment of your life as a pathetic wretch who, no matter WHAT face she puts on, has whined and complained about everything someone does, all in the name of them being “bullies.”
“I never knew my father.”
“My mother didn’t love me enough.”
“My fiance left me at the altar.”
“My second fiance went to New York with someone she barely knew.”
“You personally caused my wife to lose three months of her life”
Get over your victim complex already, Kenzi. All of us understand that if any small thing does not go your way, then not only is your entire day ruined, but so are the days of everyone around you. EVERYTHING must be about you. EVERYTHING must be about your name and your inferiority complex with trying to deal with having such a wonderful, caring, loving, and successful mother. You took away her reality show because it MUST be about you. You cheated your way to your first victory because you lost every match you had for a year and you MUST be seen as a winner. You practically FORCED your idiot friends Kate, Melissa, Stephanie, and Cassie to join you in your TERRIBLE band so that YOU could be a star and the center of the stage. YOU made an entire FILM as an allegory to your whoa-is-me love life so that large audiences could thrust their pity upon you. YOU purchased an LFL franchise so that you can be the face of an entire brand in order to fill your glutinous need for fame.
YOU lied to a tag team partner about sharing some sort of amorous sin in order to win tag team championships because YOU needed to wear gold. YOU have lived a life of lies, cheating, and whoring. YOU have gotten people thrown in jail because you wanted what they had. YOU have tried to break up multiple relationships because you wanted one of the people in them. YOU have assaulted friends and foes alike with complete disregard to fairness or even reason. YOU have suckered people into your graces by claiming your silly “clarity” and your believe in helping others, only to viciously attack someone who LOVES you enough to HURT you when you needed it the most!
WHY HAVEN’T YOU THANKED ME?!
Do you know how much strength it takes to play a chess game that would cause this much chaos in the lives of those you love? Do you realize how much integrity it takes to inflict this much pain? Do you realize how much internal fortitude it takes to spend time in the presence of whores such as yourself in order to fix them?!
WHY HAVEN’T YOU THANKED ME?!
I THOUGHT that my time spent washing the feet of the homeless, the outcasts of society, would help me in my dealings with you. I THOUGHT that helping the lepers find treatment, helping the transients find homes, helping the lost find family, would give me the strength to deal with you. Unfortunately, I have found that YOUR overwhelming sinful nature is so far beyond even the dregs of human society that even all of the experience I had with them COMBINED was not enough for you!
WHY HAVEN’T YOU THANKED ME?!
From the MOMENT I got out of that prison they called a “hospital,” I knew that I needed to fix your demonic wife. From the MOMENT I left my husband’s gravesite, I knew that I had to save his name, had to save his legacy. 20 years as a wrestler! 20 years collection championships and rings, of changing the business for God’s pleasure! 20 years ready to be trust to the side of the road because his progeny, his only child, decided that pleasures of the physical world, pleasures offered by Satan, were better than what God has planned. I knew that change had to happen to save my husband’s name. It was up to ME for him to be risen.
WHY HAVEN’T YOU THANKED ME?!
Do you realize how annoying it was to track you two for an entire year?! Do you have ANY idea how filthy and depraved I felt watching what you two did across the world? Kicked out of places for your deprived live sex shows! Nearly thrown out of your apartment for all of the racket that you make! Making enemies and friends of the most unlikely people! And EVERY step of the way, you have not only SQUANDERED everything that the Path of the Light has given you, but you have SPIT ON IT! That demon of yours has taken EVERYTHING that her wonderful father taught her about being a person who lives in God’s grace, EVERYTHING that Nikita taught her of being a wrestler, and threw it in the trash while she decided to dance around in her underwear for you in that terrible movie! And all I have done since breathing my first breath of fresh air in four years was set a plan in place to HELP her remember who and what she is supposed to be!
WHY HAVEN’T YOU THANKED ME?!
The Path of the Light teaches that you must change the world with your bare hands, must bring together those of like mind in order to spread His vision, and change the world for good. And all that you two have done is act like imbecilic whores, gather a troop of like-minded whores, and embarrass yourselves all across the wrestling world. Whereas before, the name of Lacklan made men, strong men, wet themselves in fear, and now all that that name means is people rolling their eyes and making jokes about sanitation collection. But I have brought respect back to that name from the first time it escaped my lips as I became the Champion of Chaos. I have given you BOTH an opportunity to have something to live up to and be proud of something.
WHY HAVEN’T YOU THANKED ME?!
You two needed to slow down. You two needed to be less exposed. You two needed something to shake you from your silly dreams and instead be reminded of the reality of this world. I made that happen. I encouraged Jacob. I pushed Jacob. I pressed Jacob. I reminded him of what the demon girl’s arrogance and flippant attitude robbed him of. I reminded him of his birthright. And while, as I said on Monday, did not tell him what to do, he did exactly what he should have. I am proud of him for pursuing his dreams, for trying to take what was his, regardless of whether or not he was able to succeed in the end. But he did succeed in what was most important.
He ended your dream and brought you back to the real world. I am as proud of him as any mother-in-law could be.
WHY HAVEN’T YOU THANKED ME?!
So come at me with your selfish anger, child. Come at me with everything you have. Come at me with every half-conceived plot or strategy. By all means, spend time with the Vaughn girl and the vixen Cotton; learn from them in how to lose the important matches and let down the people who mean the most to you in the world. By all means, spend time with the idiot pothead Sativa and make jokes about four and twenty, or perhaps the lazy log that is Crowthorne and learn to only play in your safe spaces. By all means, go to all of the friends you have stabbed in the back over the years in order to have them tell you “Oh no, Kenzi, you are SO not a terrible person! We totally forgive you for all the times you threw us to the side of the road in order to gain something immaterial or unimportant!”
Come at me with your empty arsenal of weapons, Kenzi Grey. Come at me with a career that only Ladies All Star could call “hall of fame” worthy when the only thing you EVER did on your own...EVER...in two years of fighting there was win ONE match against other champions before being buried the rest of the year until the company folded. Come at me with your “undefeated” streak as tag champions in Canada when there isn’t a SINGLE victory to your name that was not handed to you by outside interference or by blatant cheating. Come at me with your career in Las Vegas where the only thing more remarkable than getting too drunk to remember getting married was being pinned by a journalist to lose a championship belt. Come at me with your career in UGWC where your claim to fame is being the first person on your Outlast team to be eliminated and having ONE victory to your name when your mother, who is admittedly a true sweetheart, saved you from losing to a listless child who never deserved to make even occasional appearances at our level.
COME AT ME WITH YOUR CAREER OF FAILURE AND EMBARRASSMENT, KENZI!
I will come at you with my career of excellence. I will come at you as the person most feared within the Coalition. I will come at you as the person how has been the star of the company every single week across the entire year. I will come at you as the most respected champion within the business, the Champion of Chaos. I will come at you as the mother you do not deserve but woefully need.
I will come at you as a Lacklan.
And you WILL thank me later.
Bonne nuit.
x2
