Post by bad guy™ on May 13, 2019 17:25:11 GMT -5
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Tempe, AZ; Seven Days Before SuperBrawl
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"Again."
Collar-elbow tie up. Headlock. Leg sweep to ground lock. That’s what’s coming. A’ight. Tie up. There’s the h…headlock. Uggh. Block the swee…..aaaaahhh. Thud.
"Again."
Pull myself up. Tie up. Headlock. Foot hooked into the ankle this time, she ain’t ta….thud. F*CK. COME ON.
"Not good enough. Again!"
"Yeah, yeah. I know the routine by now. We’ve only been going at it for like, three hours."
"You asked for my help, so get better with the basic fundamentals or you’re never going to progress."
Sheesh. Cut me some slack, girl. I tie up with her again, but this time instead of a headlock, I feel my legs give way courtesy of a kick to my heels. THUD. Ouch, that one hurt.
"What the hell, Scarlett? You said again. We’re practicing this for a rea…**CHOUGH**"
A boot is stomped right into my gut while my eyes were closed. I roll away from f*ckin’ Freddie Mercury warming up a crowd for ‘We Will Rock You’ over there and to the ropes, pulling myself up.
"Take a second to catch your breath."
"Yeah, thaAAAAHHHH."
One minute I’m looking at the ropes holding me up, then I feel like I’m flying in reverse until my neck meets the canvas. Hard. I grab at my neck and start rolling, this time under the ropes and…uhh…sort of miss my footing going out of the ring and faceplant onto the concrete below.
"Ouch. That looks like it hurt worse than the German."
"Blargh…ye…ah. Little bit."
"Heh. Ok, take five. For real this time."
"You’re not…" picking my mouth off of the concrete so I’m actually capable of being heard "…going to Tope or some sh*t the second I stand, are you?"
"Nah."
I hear the canvas shaking. Liar. I army crawl on the cement to the outside corner and use the post to pull myself u….OH SH*T. Ribbon wrap to my left. Bitch tried to baseball slide me. What the hell?! Scarlett redirects her slide to under the rope opposite me and lands gracefully on her feet on the outside. She wraps her left arm around the bottom of the pole and tosses one of those sh*t eating grins at me. The nerve.
"You’re way too rusty, Anna."
I’m well aware of that, thank you.
"Hey, you keep taking me down and I’m getting back up, ain’t I?"
"I meant mentally. Your head isn’t in it the way it should. When’s the last time you sparred with Penny or dad?"
"Wayne’s been busy with the bike, you know that. Guy never leaves that garage anymore. And Penny…I haven’t exactly had the chance to smack a bitch lately, ya know, with her being WFWF Champion and all. Well, not anymore. But you get my drift."
"Fair enough."
She walks over to the table and fills two Thermos’ with lemonade Vanessa made this morning and hands me mine. Considering everyone in this damn house is all about sustainability and eco-friendliness, we all use these. Not a bad thing, but the whole f*cking family bought the same brand, same color. I had to melt on a red A to mine just to tell the f*cking difference. Last thing I want is to drink from the same cup Penny’s used. Everything about that bitch is toxic, saliva included.
I take a couple of swigs and collapse to the floor, back against the hard apron, Scarlett hopping onto the apron and laying down on the ledge, her head right above mine.
"Why are you doing this?"
"What? Training? Like you said. I’m rusty. I haven’t even given thought about being serious in a scrap for a while."
"I mean with Mesh."
I know what you meant. I was trying to avoid the question by giving a non-descript, cookie cutter response. I’m worse at politicking than Trump. God help me.
"She needs taught a lesson."
"Oh? I’m listening. What lesson would that be, Anna?"
"Up till now, she’s had a pretty easy road. I mean, I give credit where it’s due. She beat Penny. I ain’t saying her skills are bad in any way. But she needs to learn that the business is much more serious than that. She’s got athletic prowess, but at the same time she’s fangirling over every person she meets as she’s on the road. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if her and Penny haven’t had a POWWOW on tour."
Scarlett doesn’t respond. Guess Penny told her something that’s not for my ears. Fair enough.
"So what’s the problem then? You got into the business because of your dad, same as me. And while we did it for different reasons, we both grew up with WFWF. We’re all fangirls, the whole lot of us. Wasn’t one of your first interactions with Daphne? Big name outside the company, but in the business as a whole."
"It was. Knocked her off my first match. But you’re missing my point, Scarlett."
"I don’t think you have a point, Anna."
"Yes. I do. Coming in as a fan, regardless of your name…that’s fine. Everyone starts somehow. But Mesh treats the WFWF as if it is her own, personal meet-and-greet with the stars, except she’s getting paid instead of standing in line for an autograph at some comic book store. She respects the wrestlers, but not the business…and it pisses me off."
"How does she not respect the business? If I didn’t know any better, she probably kisses the canvas after roll call every show like the Pope kisses new ground."
"It’s because she’s never left that fan mode behind her. At some point, she has to realize…ah Christ, what’s the saying? You’ve been here?"
"Act like you’ve been here before."
"That’s it."
"He told me that once before, you know that?"
No need for a name, I know exactly who she means. That’s certainly something he would have said to her, especially being the daughter of one of his best friends.
"Difference is, Anna, being told to act your place by a grizzled veteran is a message taken much more seriously, and to heart, compared to someone with less work experience than the person being advised as. You’ve been around longer, technically, but you’re greener than my fake Arizona grass compared to Mesh. Are you really the best person to give this so called advice? Especially since it’s coming so…forcefully?"
"So what are you trying to say? I’m in no place to advise anyone? Put them back into place?"
"You’re right that her personality…umm…let’s call them quirks…lends to the allowance of annoyance, especially to people like us. But I think the method you chose is highly suspect. When you told me you were going back to the WFWF with Penny, and that you wanted to work with Mesh I already knew your plan. This wasn’t simply a girl power booster. I saw right through your sh*t when you claimed to be on her side. The fact that you waited for her to beat Daphne before your intentions were shown to those who don’t know you as well as I do was more surprising than the brutality you showed."
I can hear Scarlett taking a swig from her cup. Is she right? Am I right? Mixture?
"I didn’t take it too far. I held back before Kat got involved."
"You’re right. You didn’t take it far enough."
That…was not what I expected to hear.
"What do you mean?"
"Your intention was to send a message. However, your message of ‘shape up or ship out’ was a declaration of war in Mesh’s eyes. And you continue to add fuel to the fire. Bringing back the Playground? Tossing poor Cam into the situation? What is Mesh supposed to ‘learn’ from you not only turning coat, but stacking the deck against her to the point she has almost no chance of winning? She’s not going to learn to show more respect for the business, Anna."
Another swig.
"She’s only going to learn that it’s not safe to walk the halls of the arenas without a second set of eyes behind her. You’re not teaching her respect for the WFWF. You’re teaching a wounded animal exactly how to fight back against its master and to show no more fear. Or mercy."
There is a long silence between us. I’d rather be back getting my ass handed to me in the ring rather than have this specific silence. This is not a quiet silence. It’s deafening.
"I…I’ve turned her into us."
I feel a hand on my head, playing around with the ribbon in my hair.
"Unfortunately."
"How do I fix this then? I mean…a little bit of us is not a bad trait to have, but that…that wasn’t my goal. I wanted her to learn fear, yeah, but in a way that would keep her head always in the game instead of Penny’s kush clouds."
"You can start by calling Cam and making sure he calls it straight. I don’t know what strings you pulled in his heart, and with the WFWF to get him reinstated even if for one night, but he’s a man of integrity I will give him that. Having said as much though, even if you did not explicitly tell him to slow count or whatever…he’s part of the conflict now and you need to remedy the nuances of that."
"…yeah, that makes sense."
"Let her be the aggressor. Right now, she hates you. She’s calling you a witch, and that she’s going to burn you. Let her get it started. I know you’re going out there with either your kendo stick or Sam’s sheathe, because you’re you. But make her initiate. THEN go at it."
"How’s that going to get me back to my original message I wanted sent?"
"I’m not sure you ever can. But if you can get her to fan the flames in that match first…from what I can tell, she has a conscience. There may be no stoop too low in a war, but eventually the violence will cause her to self-destruct. THAT is when you make your move. Beat her within a half inch of her life if you have to. Take her internal combustion and use it to make her fear herself. Even if you lose, as long as you put that into her head…your message is going to get across more accurately."
Ugh.
"I have to play a role in revising a reformation I accidentally sent into overdrive."
"If anyone can do it, it’s you."
"Why do you have that much faith after I’ve already screwed the pooch that bad?"
I hear Scarlett shuffling around so she could see me directly from the apron, but I never anticipated what was next. She’s braced upside down on the apron on my shoulders, eyes directly staring into mine, hair completely wack upside down at this point. She’s got that stupid McGurk smirk on her face. TOO. CLOSE.
"Because, like you said, you’re turning her into one of us. But she’s not beyond the point of no return f*cked up yet. Get violent if you must, but make sure she doesn’t gain any more ground regarding becoming one of us."
"And if I can’t? If she’s already too far gone? We’re ok…I mean, we’re f*cked in the head, but we’ve turned out ok, even if a bit sadistic."
"What’s done is done. You can’t take back the method in which you used to try and implant your madness. But you can still toss yourself into the flames ahead of her. She’s smart, even if annoying at times. Kind of like you when you get all mopey and sh*t like now. She’ll figure it out. And if she doesn’t, then she wasn’t worthy of your misguided, but earnest, attempt to prevent a larger problem from forming if she continued on that path."
Scarlett grabs my cup from my hand and takes a sip, tossing it to the side after.
"You two aren’t that dissimilar. At least, where she is now to where you once were. But before ANYTHING can be done, we have to get your head back into proper fighting mode."
"Ugh. More sparring?"
"Maybe."
She pats my shoulders and pulls herself back into the ring and stretches out her knees. I crawl to my cup that she so rudely threw and set it back on the table, grabbing hers in the process. How can I fix thi…WO WH…
Before I can turn myself around, there is a hand on my shoulder turning me around. Scarlett wraps her arms around my neck and arches up to her tip toes and…she kisses me………..WAIT WHAT?!
She pulls away and smiles that F*CKING smile again.
"Umm…Scarlett…wh…"
She brushes my cheek with her thumb.
"I know you’re with Aron. And I’ll probably kill both of you if you don’t wind up getting married sooner than later. But I know, Anna. I’ve ALWAYS known. You’ve had a thing for me from the start. I’m not going to say that kiss just now meant nothing, but you also know I don’t swing that way. That said, I envy Aaron. He found a great one. The fact that you have to play the role of the Wicked Witch of the WFWF to fix a mistake you’re owning up to, and that you’re more than willing to do so almost makes me wish I did swing both ways. That also means I have to drop my act of big sister, because I’m not. We’re equals, at least in mind and spirit. Plus, you looked like you could use the motivation and proof of support beyond me just helping you inside that ring to prepare."
"I’ve waited a long time to…hear…those words from you. Always wished they’d have been in the context I wanted…but…you know…ugh. My head’s a mess now. Thanks."
"Any time. Well, minus the one part. That was a once in a lifetime opportunity for you. Do what you will with the memory. But know I’ve got your back, thick and thin. Go out there to Dallas and prove my faith accurate."
I realize this whole time I’ve been looking at our boots. My face is also very wet, as is Scarlett’s tape. Have I been crying this whole time and not even realized it?
"Can you go a few more rounds in the ring? Or do you need an even longer break than I’ve given you?"
I return the McGurk smirk with the smile of a snake, pursing my lips while smiling, touching my tongue to the ridges. Lemon.
"I think I’ve got a second wind."
"Well that’s great to hear. Come on in, Miss Ahriman."
Scarlett sits on the middle rope with one leg, opening the way for me. I smile, hopping up onto the apron, grabbing the top rope, and kicking her plant foot out from underneath her, causing her to hit the mat with the same thud she’d been sending me down with. I pull myself up the top rope with my own core strength and fold myself over into the ring, driving my boots into Scarlett’s hips, sending her to the concrete as she did to me also.
"The hell?! Gah."
"Rule one of derusting, never leave yourself open. Number two, never underestimate your opponent’s motive, ability, or mindset. After all, I am the Wicked Bitch of the WFWF, at least for one night."
I back away from the ropes into one of the opposing corners and take a knee, motioning her to bring it on. Scarlett, less graceful this time, rolls into the ring and leans against the corner opposite me.
"For the rest of this session, I’m putting Mesh’s face on you."
"About f*ckin’ time."
Scarlett does a one hop and charges me. Let’s dance, bitch.
_______
Ira, VT: Two Days Before SuperBrawl
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I pull into the studio with the piece of sh*t car a buddy of mine left at the airport for me to borrow while I’m back home. Sorry, Shane, your method of transportation is sh*t. I appreciate the gesture so I didn’t have to pay for a rental considering I’m currently rolling around in late-fees rather than even pennies, but still.
And as if on cue, the car literally eats sh*t right before I turn off the ignition. I can’t tell if this means I’m lucky or cursed. I take the key out of the ignition and take note that dad’s gonna have to have this towed at Shane’s expense. He never cared for my first ex anyways. Well, the first he met. I’d never subject him to the number of girls I ran through in high school. Not that he wouldn’t approve of the lifestyle, but I will play up the wholesome, God loving, cross wearing persona as long as I can just to piss him off. Gotta f*ck with the old man somehow, and he’s hard to irritate.
I exit the car, typical white girl wasted style Frappuccino in hand...thank God Vanessa was considerate enough to reload my Starbucks card when Wayne tried cutting Scarlett, Penny, Penny’s whore, and myself off from coffee that isn’t trash. Sorry Wayne, not everyone can drink dollar store generic, black straight from the drip. I bang my hip into the door to close it.
And the handle falls right the f*ck off.
I can already tell how this conversation is going to go.
She must have heard some combination of a car begging to be Ol’ Yeller’d or the clanging of the metal handle hitting the ground, but the door to the studio opens wide, and there’s mum.
"Hello, love."
"Hey mum."
I walk up for the obligatory hug and peck on the cheek, and as happy as I am to see her, I need to see dad and pray I have enough in my account to get an Uber back to the airport because I hard a hard enough time convincing the bastards that it’s legal to have a sword, sheathed and wrapped, in my checked baggage. The last thing I need, or want, is to miss the one plane that actually knew the law that’s en route to Dallas.
Yeah, that’s why I’m really here. Sure, it’s always nice to see mum and dad, but I have an ulterior motive.
I want Sakabato.
And I want it now.
"How’ve you been my love? You never, ever call anymore."
Yeah. To avoid this awkwardness.
"I’m alright. Flight out of here to JFK, then to Dallas for the show."
Her face is sullen. Don’t need all three guesses as to why. I set my drink down and hug her tightly, as tight as I can. She reciprocates.
"I have to make things right. And I have to do it my way," I respond to her, though she never even asked the question. I mean, I can’t blame her. She was against me training in martial arts, but eventually gave up on that when she saw I had the skill for it. But wrestling…that isn’t just a contact sport. It f*cks with your head as much as it does your body.
…and that’s just the description of a normal, friendly one on one. She had to tend to dad for almost three months after his final match. Elimination Chamber runner up. SuperBrawl IX. Kyzer cost him not just a match. That would have been too kind of Kyzer. He detached dad’s retina during his assault, permanently impairing dad’s already horrific vision in his right eye. Broke his orbital bone. He was in the operating room twice in three days for a temporal bone fracture.
And while Mesh is no Kyzer, her baby girl is about to go into a far more dangerous match with someone who’s mouth is equally as foamy as Kyzer’s was the night he nearly killed my father, and Drakz.
But alas, I must continue to be a let-down of a daughter to her, because I have no choice but to see this through. Every time I close my eyes, the image behind my eyelids is me either licking Mesh’s blood off of my fist, or Scarlett kissing me for the one and only time as the clearest form of ultimate support one can give.
And I have absolutely no f*cking control over what image is going to flash behind my eyes every time I blink.
HEY! Maybe a house can fall on this Wicked Bitch of the WFWF considering Murphy’s Law is in GOD DAMN FULL F*CKING EFFECT TODAY.
"Where’s dad?"
"Overdoing it, as usual."
"What do you mean?"
"He refuses to admit that he’s never going to be cleared for doing anything more than training the students…he can’t go any further himself, and has to use his kohai’s to physically instruct."
"Is there really no hope?"
She shakes her head, and my heart sinks into my gut.
"He goes to rehab every day and takes the medicine every day, hoping the vestibular rehab treatment laid out for him would kill the vertigo he got after the break."
"Yeah…"
"Hell, he’s turned the exercises given to him to help and practically tried turning them into a new form of martial art. It’s insanity."
"I guess bad decisions followed by worse luck and stubbornness are inherent traits of Ahriman’s. Heh."
I don’t bother looking at her. I know what face she’s wearing, and I can’t look because I can’t afford to lose focus. Or worse, resolve, because of a pained mother.
I DO, however, put my arm around her tight and kiss the top of her head. Sometimes I wonder who’s the parent, and who’s the child when I’m alone with either one of them. But then I remember I only ever show up anymore when I need or want something. My life is in Tempe now. Roots are never to be forgotten, but they absolutely have been transplanted to allow for my continued growth.
That is just long form for I’m a selfish b*tch, even to a worried mother and a father I can’t look in the eye anymore because he can’t see straight himself, and that I’m the kid. At least back home in Tempe, I’m on even footing with Scarlett and Penny. Vanessa and Wayne treat me the same as they do Scar and 1-Cent, and it’s never treatment that would be unbecoming of what I am. A young woman wise beyond her years, but still childlike at heart with a hodgepodge mash-up of Napoleonic, Peter Pan, and God complexes rolled into one giant ball of f*cked up sh*t known as Anastasia Annalise Ahriman.
…in all of that, I realized that I called Tempe home, not Ira…
"I love you, no matter what, you know that, right mom?"
She seems taken aback by this sudden vocal display of affection.
"Uhh…oh sweetie. Yes. I know that. So does Sam, even if the guy is right up there with you in stubbornness."
"Good."
She points to the smaller dojo with the foam mats peeking out from behind the opening to the room.
"He’s in there. But heads up…
"Heads up for what?"
She hesitates for a moment, looks at the floor, then back up at me.
"You’ll see when you’re in there. Tell him he needs to come to the office and finish off some of the new Iaido sign-up forms so I can post them."
"‘ight. I was gonna talk to him in there anyways. Have a favor…well, more like a request."
She squints then opens wide, the puzzle pieces have fit into place. No, her daughter didn’t come home for a family gathering. She just wants the f*cking Sakabato.
Maybe I’m not just the Wicked Bitch of the WFWF…maybe I’m just a bitch in general. Think she’s also putting together the other reason I came in person for it, rather than flying the out for the show.
This is the last time I’m ever coming back to Ira. My way home is through Tempe.
And when I ‘round the corner into the smaller dojo room, I understand what she was trying to warn me of. And what I was afraid to see. And why I’m never coming back.
"DAD!"
I run over to the corner of the room, dad propped up against the corner, his head leaning forward onto something I never thought I’d ever see him wield. A quad cane.
Keep this in mind. Dad’s got severe vertigo that is basically incurable. He used one the first few weeks of therapy then tossed it aside till recently, I presume. It’s not like he’s dying. But I can’t see the man I idolized both as a parent and an athlete degenerating any further. Not when he’s still this young. I know what happened with….but that was a disease that took him from me. Us. This is no different than someone in a bad car accident. Shouldn’t be a problem other than sad, right?
…I can’t come back here because I can’t constantly see my future self. This will be me sooner than later, choosing to live the exact same lifestyle and occupation. I don’t need a daily f*cking reminder of that via daily breakfast with my depressed, secretly pill popping mother and more crippled-by-the-day-because-of-our-mutual-career-choice father.
"Can I help you? Here, take my hand."
He looks up at me and smiles, shaking his head.
"All good. Just lost my balance after doing those damn exercises. Still hasn’t fully come back to me yet since…that night. BUT! It IS a work in progress!"
"Then why the cane?"
"Doctor’s orders."
Yeah. Because you’ve ever listened to them before.
"Besides, even when my balance is back at top performance, the vertigo is chronic. Never gonna go away. So it’s good to have a buffer if I have an attack, just to be safe."
"That is…surprisingly honest, coming from you."
"Hey, I can be honest in front of only those I trust fully. A lesson to carry with you, hear?"
I nod and close my eyes, the image of Scarlett in my mind. I smile. Perfect timing.
"I hear ya. Now get up. We need to have a chat. And mom wants you to finish some registration forms."
"Phoe, ever the busybody. Alright. Let’s go to the office."
I extend my right arm and hand to him and he looks at it, then at me, and I am instantly humiliated and dying inside. I switch to my left arm and help him and he balances himself out with the cane.
I’ve been away so long I completely forgot about his right hand. Aside from the scar over his eye, the black, full hand brer and glove is his telltale card. I’ve been away so long, I forgot my own father hasn’t been able to use his right hand since before I was even born, let alone his whole f*cking career I watched play out on TV.
I could really use that house falling on me right now.
On his feet, I see eye to eye with him for the first time in over a year. I examine his face. My face, just…well…
"You’ve gotten older looking since I was here last."
"I’d hope so. I’ve even had to start dying my hair a little bit on the sides. I’m proud of where I am, but I’m still a little vain."
I can’t help but let out a chuckle. They always say never meet your idols, but when your idol is your father, it’s kind of a hard concept to live by. That said, his whole aura is still as strong as I can ever remember. Partially blind. Partially deaf. Acute vertigo. Grey. Still Samael Ahriman.
"I really hope that when I reach your age, I’m half as spry, or youthful in spirit, as you."
"You’re making it sound like I’m in my golden years. I’m in my forties. You’re also my daughter, meaning literally half my age. Chill it."
"You know w…"
He butts in.
"You make it sound like you’re taking a final mental snapshot, like you’re never coming back or something."
"Dunno when."
"Hmm."
Well, THAT cover is broken.
We get to the office and he takes his seat, and as soon as he is planted, before I sit…just over his head…I see why I am here. Ok Anna…chill. Keep it cool.
"And when were you planning on telling your mother that you’re only here for what’s behind me, and that I was dead f*cking on about you not coming back here, at least if you can humanly avoid it?"
I forgot what I was up against. Old man probably heard the car pulling in, knew it was me, and knew everything. Always two steps ahead.
"I’ve always been two steps ahead of the game. That’s how I’m still alive. Still fighting, even if my battle is not technically visible. You stroll on in here for the first time in over a year in a beater, try desperately to avoid Phoe at all costs and take Sakabato behind me, with no intention on looking back unless one of us croaks, because your home is with your new family. Sound about right?"
"Hey, that’s not f…"
"You’re making the right choice, my love."
…wait what?
"Look. I hope at this point, after all of these years, you don’t look at me as an absentee father."
"NO! Of course not! Hell, you didn’t even know for quite a long time, and at that point you were in the thick of it. And when…he…was going, you made sure I was with you as much as possible. Sure, hindsight being what it is, I was probably as good for him as he was for me, but still."
He sighs in what I can only assume is relief.
"Then I know we made the right choice."
"In?"
"Signing your custody over to Wayne and Vanessa."
"…excuse me?"
"Well…kind of. Legally, no. But it’s still a similar point I am trying to make. When you first left for Tempe…you remember me having a hard time signing the papers agreeing to let you start training with them down there, right?"
"Well yeah. You were sending your daughter away across the country to do something VERY stupid, in hindsight."
"We were sending you to Tempe in hopes you’d acclimate in with Wayne’s family, a man I trust more than anyone one else on this planet, your mom excluded of course. You were nearing you eighteenth birthday, so it was really no difference than if you would have sought emancipation, but the end game was hopes that even if you were never told you’d acclimate to a REAL family. A loving husband and wife. Two girls, well, young women, under their roof just a bit older than you with the exact same interests and career goals as yourself…it might as well have been a transference, because this day was going to come sooner or later, anyways."
"But why?"
"Look at me. Look at Phoe. Are we really the type of people to help guide a young adult through the hardest years of their life? When I was a few years younger than you, I got my face slashed up and a blade put through my right hand because of some outdated sense of chivalry. Not that you’re as dumb as I was…but I wanted you to be in a position where you could succeed no matter what path you chose. Wrestling. Fitness. Academia. Whatever. I would have been good for wrestling. That’s it. Wayne is a lover and a fighter, as great a scholar as he was a wrestler. They had the ability to provide to you the support you needed at that time in your life, and still need now…and may always need. It’s not something I ever was good at or would have been good about keeping up with. Little did I know, that little clan down there in Arizona did more for you than we ever could have. And I’m so proud of what you’ve become."
"Dad…"
"And beyond that, I cannot wait to see what becomes of you moving forward. This sh*t with Mesh, it’s not you just being a brutal c***, is it."
"Was that a question, or a statement of fact?"
"You decide. Enlighten me."
I do as he requests. I tell him the whole story. My thought process in following Penny back to the WFWF as a way to confront Mesh, then I tell him about my conversation with Scarlett during our training break when I realized the role that I have to play in my Vanguard Championship match. The corner I’ve backed myself into, and the corner I beat Mesh into. And how I am going to make things right, for better or worse.
"…so…whatcha think, Dad?"
"Come around the desk, Anna."
I do as he requests. When I am on his side, he rolls his chair back and picks up Sakabato from its display.
"This sword is unique. You know that, right? Of course you do. The blade is on the wrong side, and it is on the wrong side purposely. When it was passed on to me from my old Sensei, he told me there’s a reason for this quirk other than being a unique talking point. This blade is intended to be for the defense of others. That’s the whole reason I entered Iaido to begin with, after the attack. I had someone I had to protect. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that this dull blade would come to the defense of more than your mother. I’ve lost count how many times I took Sakabato out of the hilt in the name of defense of my friends while I was in the WFWF. And I could use it freely because being hit with it absolutely would hurt the other person like hell, but it would never cause irrevocable damage that a regular sword would."
"It also has the ability and distinction of being used in anger or revenge by simply changing your hand positioning and flipping the blade from the dull side to the blade. And the key to using Sakabato is to never, ever flip the blade unless there is absolutely no other option to protect yourself or someone else, and you are absolutely positive that you can live with the consequences of the harm you are about to cause. It is both a perfect first line of defense, and a fatal last resort weapon all in one two foot, thin piece of tempered steel."
"You remembered what I taught the first batch of students I had when we first got this place off the ground?"
"Verbatim."
"Well I’ll be heaven sent."
"Certainly can’t be damned, being a Satanist and all, can ya?"
I have not seen THAT smile on my father in…honestly? Ever.
"Anastasia Annaliese Ahriman, if I give this to you…pass it down…is your immediate purpose of use to defend yourself? Or cause harm to Mesh?"
"Neither. My immediate purpose with Sakabato…and whatever the hell else is littering ringside, is to protect Mesh before she does something she’s going to regret and never be able to live with for the rest of her life. Even if it means flipping the blade to get that point across."
He smiles, but his eyes are empty. I can tell the moment I walk out of this room, he’s going to bawl his eyes out. Just like I did with Scarlett.
"It’s yours, now, Anna. Just do your old man three final favors."
"Anything."
"Take care of Sakabato as if it were your own child. Never let it fall into the hands of those who seek to do ill. And never forget why this sword exists."
"What? No ‘promise to return it’ or ‘let me see it once in a while’ or even a ‘come home some time’?"
He pulls himself up from his seat and stands toe to toe with me in the office. His tone is hushed.
"You will always be my daughter, the one I love more than anything. The one I would die for. But, especially now that you own THAT…don’t you dare ever look back. I don’t relish the thought of having to meet you part way, but I understand your desire to never return to Ira. I understand you don’t want to see what you are going to become with this career path every time you see me. But I also know you’re not cold-hearted. I have a feeling you’ll call occasionally now, among other things. That sword are your ruby red slippers. There will always be that connection with home, no matter how far away you run from here."
For the first time in my life, I have no words. Not even an umm or ahh. I am at a total loss for words. I came in here expecting to have to Sparta kick the ol’ bastard and steal this thing…and here I am…both of us are…waiting for the other to break and cry first, knowing that this is not necessarily goodbye forever, but it absolutely is a farewell.
I wrap my arms around his neck very lightly as to not hurt him any more, but I bury my face into the crook of his neck. This way, neither of us will see the other crying.
_______
Dallas, TX: T-Minus Three Hours Before SuperBrawl X
__
"Christ almighty, how does that girl do it? F*cking tripod. Work already. UUUUGH. PUUUULLLLLL OK! Now for the lock….and….well would you look at that. It almost looks professional. Ish."
**knock knock**
"Anna, you in there?"
"Yeah, hold a second."
I move the tripod to the corner of the room, hoping it’ll somehow blend in with the scenery. Don’t bother with my bracers, I know who’s there. I walk over and pop the lock, and as expected, it’s the SECOND best Canadian export, Cam.
"How goes it brotha?"
"Thank you for sending me the text where to meet you. I’m glad you’re a level down from all the chaos upstairs."
"What? Afraid you’ll run into Kenshin?" I ask, knowing full well the response I’m about to get.
"F*ck off."
Ahhhhh yeah baybay.
"Now get in here before anyone sees you," I pull Cam into the basement locker room and close the door, locking it behind us.
"Why do you have a tripod in here? Copying Mesh?"
Sh*t.
"How do you know it isn’t a spare for a Cowboys worker?"
Cam points down at the box I so stupidly forgot to hide on the floor.
"In my defense, I’m returning it tomorrow."
"Why? Broken? I can take a look…."
"No, you idiot. I’m cheap. Think of it as a very expensive rental, a rental in which I plan on getting my down-payment back for."
Cam raises his arms in the air and sits, signaling fair game, none of his business, or someone just scored a touchdown. Unsure.
"So, what did you want to talk about that you couldn’t do over the phone? I don’t like it…but I already know the deal. Call quicker for you. It goes against everything I’m about, but I owed you a huge favor after all."
"Actually, I can make it quick. I actually have one more favor to ask of you."
"Anna…"
"Look, you’ll like this one. I want you to call it straight tonight. Let us do whatever we have to do, but call for her the same as you’d call for me."
Stone looks absolutely bewildered, like he just saw the Flames win the World Series.
And yes, I f*cked that one up on purpose.
"In fairness, I never actually asked you to call it any other way, now did I? I only asked that you call the match."
"Why me then?"
"Because I wanted that favor you owed me to be repaid. I know you want nothing to do with the WFWF, and this is your swan song night with the company. Hell, I wouldn’t even be surprised if Lila refuses to pay you for your duties tonight. But I don’t want any loose ends after tonight. I want a fresh slate. That way, when I wake up tomorrow, no matter how f*cked up my body is, my mind will be at ease."
Cam puts his hand to his chin, almost as if the lug is in thought.
"That last bit…you sound like you’re staying win, lose, or draw."
"Surprise!"
"For once in your life, you actually have surprised me. What brought about the change of heart regarding this as a one off?"
"You’ll see soon, my little lion man."
"Not sure I like the nickname, but if you’re staying…you know this is goodbye from me after this match."
Yeah, I know that you lug. That’s why you’re here. One final time under the lights, then you’re back to the land of maple syrup and moose as government officials.
"Yep," is all I can bring out of my mouth though. "Hey, toss me my bracers."
Stone delivers, as usual, a dead center toss. I undo the two purple ribbons in my hair and start to lace the bracer holes, but I can’t get it in the hole to save my life.
Then I remember Aaron was the same way our first time. HAH!
Little lion man notices the shaking in my hands, however. And, as usual, he can’t keep his trap shut about anything he sees, like a walking, talking f*cking seeing eye dog with a slightly better vocabulary set.
"You’re nervous."
I’m about to become one of the most hated people in WFWF history, on the largest stage my profession has to offer. I’m also probably going to be impaled with just about anything Mesh can think of sticking me with at ringside. No sh*t I’m nervous as a fly just milliseconds before the swatter catches them.
"A little. Big night, ya know. A lot at stake."
"Vanguard Championship. I don’t know its luster, but I certainly know the desire."
I hadn’t really even thought about the title, being completely honest. This match is above the title, it just happens to be for it. That’s the last thing on my list of reservations tonight.
"Yeah, title match. I’m antsy."
"Allow me?"
"Please…"
Little lion man pops from his seat and walks over to me, using my ribbons to loop through the holes in my bracers. Once through, he ties the bottoms off at the middle of my forearms and pats the final product as if admiring a job well done. Then he does something I NEVER would have expected the little lion man capable of.
He wraps his arms around me tight, reminiscent of my encounters with Scarlett and dad these last few days. I guess the lug has had more courage than I ever would have guessed.
"You’re going to do great tonight, kid," he whispers in my ear and, for some reason, the tension in my body melts away. I don’t know if it’s the assurance or adulation, but it feels good, if only for a moment.
Cam backs away, grabbing the tripod from the corner and setting it up with ease in front of me.
"Camera or phone?"
"Phone."
"Do you have a power pack?"
"Yeah."
"Gimme."
I hand over my phone, and grab the power pack and USC cord from my bag and hand them over as well. Almost effortlessly, he has the whole rig set up.
"Password?"
"Why?"
"Did you bother thinking how you were going to hit record?"
Nope.
"I had a few ideas, but I guess your help would be nice. It’s 0526."
Cam punches in the numbers and goes to the camera on my phone, then looks at me.
"You still think about him."
"Was that a question or a statement?"
"That’s his birthday. You decide. Oh, and nice background photo by the way. Looks just like his dad. Just a younger version, anyways."
Ah, the photo of Aron and myself after dad cut the ribbon at the studio. Come to think of it, yeah, Aron does resemble that guy who looks like Thunder.
Great. Assuming I don’t spend it all in the hospital, I’m crawling into bed tonight next to Aron with that image of him being a picture of Thunder in my mind. Thanks, ass.
"You ready, Anna?"
"Not in the slightest."
"Perfect. Mind if I listen in? I’ll keep quiet, and hit end when you’re ready. Add to the mystique…or something."
"I guess. I’m better in front of an audience, anyways."
He laughs that off and puts his finger on the screen from behind the tripod. He looks me directly in the eyes, smiles, and raises his other hand, palm out. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1. Point to me. Here we go, better or worse.
"I bet this is the last thing that any of you expected to see pop up on social media right before SuperBrawl. With all the hoopla surrounding so much of the card, and my well known inability to use something as basic as Twitter without royally f*cking up…who would have thought?"
I prop myself up onto a luggage case, hands in-between my legs, trying to hide the tremble from view.
"There’s a lot going on tonight. The International Championship is up for grabs in a triple threat. Billy Broom is making his SuperBrawl debut. Former WFWF Champion One-Cent Shannon has an open challenge, and speaking of THAT title, Kyzer and Drakz. Loser leaves town forever. As a fan, this is a pretty damn good card. As much as I hate giving the bitch any credit, Lila put together one hell of a show.
But.
I know the real reason you are all watching this right now. You all care about those matches, and rightfully so. But regarding MY match, social media has been just as buzzy, but it’s been a very once sided discussion. I’ve seen the tweets. I saw the signs from the early fans when I pulled in. ‘BURN THE WITCH’ so many read. So many images on blue construction paper of fire, or my face exed out. Or, more heretically, my body upside down on a crucifix. Oddly, that one was my favorite. At least one person showed some creativity."
I’ve calmed down now. Cross my arms across my chest.
"So you’re probably asking yourself two things right now. One, why am I copying Mesh’s vlogs, and why did I wait till right before showtime to issue a statement of any kind? To answer the first question, I am clearly not copying Ramona Flowers. I don’t have the rig to do that justice, just a phone and a quiet room. That said, There are many negative things I can say about Mesh, but one positive thing I can say is that she has the right idea when it comes to methods of getting your attention. It’s clever, Blue has that much going for her."
I put out a hand signaling number two.
"And for the other question, the answer is much, much more in depth. Now, many of you…if not all of you, claim that I am a thoughtless, heartless bitch. The latter part is, sadly, occasionally true. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree on that one. But thoughtless, I am not. In fact, this entire week has been filled with introspection. I’m sure if a camera filmed my everyday actions, someone could make a nice montage and plug some sweet music over the images and hit a million views on YouTube with it.
This past week has been one of reverence, which is why I am waiting till the bell sounds for the first match of the night to even post this. That way, Mesh won’t see it until after the fact. God knows she’s already geared up and watching the celebrity analysists try and break down what’s going to happen tonight…and she certainly will be too glued to the screen once Billy’s theme hits and the show starts. Hell, she’ll have to be dragged from wherever she’s rooted herself just for our match. Trust me, I’ve seen it before. I was her manager for one week, remember?
But back to the reverence bit. Like many others tonight, this is my first time on the grandest stage the business has to offer. I’m a professional wrestler, whether you all like that or not. But I AM human…again, whether you like that or not. I spent the early part of the week down in Tempe, getting back into the proper mindset of a wrestler. I had a match with Kat a little while back, but that was hardly a wrestling match. That was a fight for survival, as is tonight, appropriately enough. But at least she was as rusty as I was. Mesh isn’t. And even with all the toys, bells, and whistles that’ll be out there tonight…I would assume there will be some ‘wrestling’ occurring before things take a turn for the worst. Or best, if you’re one of the millions hoping to see Phillip Schneider’s railroad spikes make a one night return in Mesh’s hands…into my hands."
I reach down and pull out a bag from within my bag and undo the tie to reveal my treasure to the world.
"Say hi, Sakabato."
I tilt the sheath from side to side, letting out a little chuckle. This thing has some stories of its own to tell. Maybe some day.
"Before flying down to Dallas, I went back to Ira. Anyone who thought I WASN’T bringing Sakabato with me, you’re just as dumb as One-Cent Shannon for inventing this match type in the first place. Buuuuuuut while I was there, I saw something I never wanted to see. My future. All of you remember what happened the last time an Ahriman stepped into the ring at SuperBrawl. It didn’t end well, and the effects are still lingering. Congratulations, Michael Kyzer and Isaac Cray, you got what you wanted out of that deal. My dad…he’s gotten old looking. In truth, I’ve been a very bad daughter and have not given my parents so much as a voicemail in almost a year, till I showed up. And when I got there…Sakabato was all I wanted to see. But God had other plans for me that day, and I saw my father. The great Samael Ahriman, who lives in the minds of so many of you…crippled. Turns out that attack, and subsequent surgeries left a permanent mark. Man can’t go from place to place without a cane now. And his hair is grey on the sides, his eyes as tired as I can ever remember. And that is my future. Crippled, grey, and tired.
Because tonight, I’m not just having a one night stand with little Mesh. I’m thinking I may stick around a while, regardless of the outcome. I’m certainly a big enough jerk to win and rub the Vanguard Championship in all of your faces week to week. But I am not to small a woman to tuck tail and run should I lose. Or even if I win, to take my new belt and go home.
I’m not going anywhere. Sorry, folks. After seeing my dad, I realized what my heart wanted. And it’s the punishment only WFWF can provide.
Then there’s today. My final puzzle piece needing aligned. I have recently spoken with the special referee for tonight’s match, Cameron Stone. And much to his surprise, and what will be the surprise for all of you…I asked him to forgo what he thought was the insinuation within the favor I asked of him when I brought him back for this one final match, even if it is only as the ref.
I want this match called right down the middle. Let Mesh and myself tear each other to shreds. Just count like a normal person when a cover is made. The fact that Cam would have even agreed to come to SuperBrawl after the way he was so unceremoniously removed from the company the last time he walked through those ropes, let alone call a match that already had the reputation of being rigged? That’s courage if I’ve ever seen it. Wherever you are when you see this, Cam, thank you for having the courage to come out to the ring tonight and make sure the match is even."
I look away from the tripod and at Sakabato again.
"Mesh has taken to calling me a witch. And with Scarlett Quinn’s brains, Samael Ahriman’s heart, and Cameron Stone’s courage…this almost sounds as if this match is a fairy tale. The Wizard of Oz. But if I’m the witch, then who’s Dorothy? Mesh? Don’t make me laugh. Ramona Flowers couldn’t get a happy ending tonight if she paid for it at a Chinese spa.
But in this week of reflection, I’ve realized something. And I have to tell you guys. And Mesh, though after the fact for her. When I attacked her, getting the ball rolling on this SuperBrawl showdown, I was not doing so to end her career or anything of the sort. Even tonight, the tendencies inside me, an Ahriman, will have to be somewhat suppressed.
Mesh, my love, you’re too naïve. My intention was never to attack you, take your title, and bail the f*ck out. Hell, until Cam mentioned it earlier I had almost completely forgotten that this match was technically for your title. Rather, my intentions were purer than you’d expect.
I didn’t want you to turn out like me. Like Scarlett Quinn. Like Penny Shannon. Like Meg. Like Black Widow. Like Valorie Evans. Like Kat Burton. The WFWF has a way of changing people, and it is never for the best. However, it has an even more unique toll that it takes on women. You grew up idolizing the same women I did. And I know for a fact you had your own heart to heart with Penny this week, though I doubt she was smart enough to understand what I’m really trying to do here. Scarlett’s silence when I even brought up the idea of you two talking told me all I needed to know about that matter, and I’ll deal with Penny when we get home. It is perfectly fine to be a fan and a wrestler at the same time. I am very much looking forward to seeing who rips Penny’s head off, for example. I saw an old face wandering the halls on my way in, with a gear bag in hand…I can’t wait to see him take out my housemate, if I’m right.
However, you’ve taken being a fan too far. You should have realized during your match with Daphne that meeting your idols isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. Not always, anyways. If you have any intention on being a long term roster member, you have to learn that there is a time and a place for everything. You think my first time walking through those ropes I didn’t want to bear hug Christa Adina or Alecia Matthews? Of course I did. But I knew to keep my fandom internalized, and to act live I’ve been there before. And here we are, all that time later."
I look down completely.
"I f*cked up though. I do not regret my actions. I do not regret taking you out. And I will not regret taking you out tonight. But I f*cked up. I did not go about it the wrong way, but rather I jumped the gun in my efforts to bring your head back down from the clouds. Instead of teaching you the lesson of knowing a time and a place, I brought you into the fold as one of us now. Instead of saving you from the break that will eventually crack you as a woman in the WFWF and to keep you as pure as possible under the most impure of circumstances that befall anyone who takes up this career.
I turned you into what me and Scarlett and Penny have become. And I have to make that right."
I finally work the nerve to look into the phone lens.
"Mesh. I saw your vlog. In fact, I’ve watched every single one. After tonight, no matter the outcome, I will proudly wear my Mesh t-shirt I picked up not long after you debuted. I’m a fan. That may surprise you, hearing this after the fact…after what I’m about to do to you. But remember always that what I am doing to you is for you. That said, your vlog gave me the same idea Scarlett had put into my head a few days back. You see me as a witch, so I will play that role. One time. Tonight. Tonight, I, Anna Ahriman, am the Wicked Bitch of the WFWF…that has a nice ring to it, given the circumstances. I will play that role, the role you are so desperate to see me fill the ruby red slippers of, to the best of my ability.
What I do tonight though has little malice behind it. What I do tonight also has no regret. When I take you down, I want to see the light behind your eyes dissipate, only to see it shine brighter than ever before the next time I see you. F*ck Kat. F*ck Daphne. F*ck anyone who would rather see this end the other way including the fans.
In a little bit, your phone is going to start blowing up. But you’ll ignore it, awestruck with your own first SuperBrawl as a competitor. Write it off as more ‘Burn the Witch’ propaganda, when in reality you’re about to walk out to that ring along the Yellow Brick Road; but, instead of meeting the Wizard of Oz in the Emerald City, you’ll be forced to pay attention to the man, or woman, behind the curtain, and get a front row seat to the Penitence Ball of Anna Ahriman. And for you, come to think of it.
Never meet your heroes, kids. A wolf in sheep’s clothing is more than a warning. The death of the illusion is as heart breaking as the death of a childhood dream, up in flames in front of you. This is what you get for being TOO….Mesh-y. But know that while I am not sorry for what I am about to do, I am sorry for what will befall your poor, rainbow colored heart when you finally get this message and realize that all I’ve been trying to do this whole time is help, just through unconventional methods.
So, I’ll see you at the gates to the Playground inside the Emerald City in the event you DO see this before the show. Not hell, like you insinuated in your last vlog. And, sorry to disappoint you…but Shawn Malakai will not be there to tend the gate and accept OUR tolls like you insinuated. I buried him with two golden dollars in his hands to pay for his ferry across the river Styx, and the other for his admittance…though I doubt he ever needed either coin, so he’s likely the richest person upstairs right now. And if I’m wrong, well, it’s not like either of us are going to be able to live long enough to tell anyone either way.
I’ll forgive you just once for that transgression. But know that one, just one, of the strikes from Sakabato to your spine is me breaking character as the Wicked Bitch of the WFWF and is coming from Anastasia Annaliese Ahriman, for trying to play my emotions, religion, surprisingly love-filled heart, and the greatest man you’ll never know against me.
Everything else will be the façade I have to continue with till the final bell tolls, literally beating my message and my apologies into you. But for that one strike in particular…
I’ll get you, and your precious little title too. Go f*ck yourself, you blue haired, pixie c***."
And on cue, Cam silently gets up from his seat and ends the recording. Then he just looks at me, blank.
"Wow," is all he is able to muster. Not that I blame him. No one’s ever seen this side of me, the side that lives within a house of wolves.
"So, what do you think? Am I redeemable? Or even worthy of it? Will my message reach her?"
Cam gives me another hug, this one with much more gusto. I can feel my ribs shifting.
"You made a mistake in all of that."
"WHAT?! DID I FUMBLE SOMETHING?!"
"Ahaha no. Relax. You kept calling yourself the Wicked Bitch of the WFWF, and that’s how you think this story will close."
"Well that’s the moniker she’s dubbed me with, so I might as well play the role she’s left wide open for me."
"Maybe for one night. But knowing you as well as I think that I do, and knowing what’s about to happen out there…love, you’re nothing of the sort in this story."
"Oh? What am I then? Dorothy? Toto? The flying monkey?"
"Nah, Mesh IS Dorothy, at least to me. You’re Glinda. The good witch."
He kisses my forehead softly, not unlike a father to their daughter. I can feel my eyes melting. He pats my shoulders with both hands, pats my head, undoes the tripod and rig for me, hands me my phone and power pack and walks towards the door. All in silence. He finally breaks it.
"Show her that she’s always had the power, my dear. And take her home."
He pops the lock on the door and looks back at me.
"Best wishes. See you."
Cam walks out of the room, closing the door behind him. I am now left all alone in this room, I have nothing but my thoughts, cross, and Sakabato. I fall from the box to the floor, on my knees. Sakabato in hand, I am slightly propped up and I wail. I just wail and scream, letting all of the emotions I have had to keep repressed for months flood out of my mouth and eyes in a visceral, guttural call for salvation. I am rescuing Mesh, but who’s gonna help save a bitch like me?
_______
