The pool felt good on her battered body. She had been, for all intents and purposes, a punching bag for the last few weeks. Everything in her body ached. As she scooted closer to the jet, she tried to talk to Chris, who had ear buds in.

He wasn't paying attention.

She splashed a little water on him. He took the ear buds out and gave her an inquisitive look.

"Can I help you, princess?"

"Well, I have been thinking about our match. I don't know if my body can take Brock Lesnar right now, but I know my heart can. I am ready to fight. I am ready to be taken seriously around here. But it won't be easy, I mean he is huge."

"You tell me like them huge."

"Shut up" she splashed him again with a red faced smile.

"But for real. This could be a big break for us."

She felt the jet hit hit legs and nether region. A satisfied face came over her.

"I mean, what is he trying to prove? I have seen tramp stamps with more class than Brock Lesnar. Do you think maybe this whole Brock thing could be bad for Nixon?"

"I'd say so."

She splashed a little, moving into position so the jet is blasting her right in her happy spot.

"For real though, Thomas's mother must be disappointed in him. He isn't half the man his mother is. Not even close."

Chris laughs a little to himself and shakes his head. "How much would it embarrass them if YOU made the pin? Especially if you pinned Brock."

She smiled to herself.

"I can imagine that. It is a tall task, but I can give it the old college try!"

Chris put his headphones back in. Jenny turned around and let the jets hit her back. She sighed with relief at the warm water hitting an aching spot.

*****************************
"Offf" she hit the floor in a heap. She could swear she tasted blood, though at this point, the taste of it blended in with other flavors on her palet.

"I thought I made my instructions very clear. Bring back the entire amount! What is it with you whores."

"Aeeeeaauughhhooofff" A kick to the side came next. Yep, definitely blood.

She tried to say through ragged breaths "I---I g--I got rob---I got robbed".

Another kick.

"Always an excuse, always the same story."

The man walked away. Respite. She silently thanked a God she didn't truly believe in.

But her respite was short lived. He soon returned with a the biggest knife she had ever seen. Pinning both of his heavy knees on her shoulders he brought the shiny metal down onto her neck and pressed it in a small amount.

"You do it again, and I will kill you. Do you understand? I will slit that pretty little throat and bury you out in the desert. Do you understand me?!"

She tried to nod but was worried that moving her neck would result in getting cut. She stammered out a "yes" as quickly as she could. He sat there for a few more minutes before getting off. It felt like someone took an entire 18 wheeler off her chest. He lit a cigarette and grabbed a bottle of vodka off the table and walked into the other room counting the cash, his boots and spurs clicking on the wooden floor.

**

"I need you to come get me", she said through the grainy phone connection, "please."

"You know I can't do that, Jen. I am sorry."

"But they are going to kill me, don't you understand---"

"HEY! What did I say about using the phone!"

The boots on hardwood were audible again. "NO! HELP! DAD THEY ARE GOING TO KILL ME! HELLP!" There was a scuffle on the line as the 19 year old was obviously battling for possession of the phone. After about 10 seconds the line went dead.

Jenny would stay there for another two years before her meeting in the desert. Always coming back, always taking beatings, but always staying alive.

---

---

His earbuds were in. Through sunglassed eyes he could see the reflection of the California sun. After his battle with Caedus on Warfare, his body ached too, but he refused to let Jenny know it. He had a lot on his mind too. He just didn't feel like himself.

He felt in his heart of hearts that he was still the best on this roster, but he had fallen on hard times. No title, no respect, no consideration for any of the top spots here. All of the ground work he laid out over the past 9 months. What was it worth? He had blazed a path of destruction that had shaped the current landscape of this roster for the better. Everyone had to step their game up to keep up with him.

If it weren't for Vinnie Lane, he would STILL be Universal Champion.

If it weren't for Vinnie Lane, he would still be unemployed.

******************************************
Walking out of the building in Phoenix, he looked back, his bag over his shoulder. As far as he could tell, his wrestling career was over. He had been humiliated at the hands of Slaine Rodderick and William Bateman. He went from being the Freestyle Champion to an outcast. He went from being a 5 time Tag Team Champion to having to collect government checks. All in the snap of a finger and the blink of an eye.

He walked to his Jeep where Bruce was waiting for him. The old man was shaking his head

Karma caught up to him.

Now, life as he knew it was over. He had never been World Champion, and now he never would be........

He would go back to East Tampa the same way he left, a loser.

**

Gabe Reno held the belt up. Chris saw it through sweat stung eyes. He tasted blood and his head pounded from being driven into the steps. Vinnie Lane was in the ring, he could make out his blonde mane. Reno' stupid music was playing and his stupid grin was ear to stupid ear.

If it wasn't for Vinnie lane getting involved......god his head hurt. His world had crashed down around him and he wasn't even exactly sure what happened. The entire last five minutes were a haze. If it weren't for Vinnie Lane he would be standing there....DIE MF DIE would be playing......The Era of Chaos would continue.

If it weren't for Vinnie Lane......











He wouldn't have a job at all.



----His thoughts were broken by Jenny. "HEY! Look, it is the new Thomas Nixon promo!"

She pulled it up on her phone.

"Kids and their technology these days."

"You're only a few years older than me!"

"Mentally or physically?"

"Shush it mister," she said with a playful smile. "But for real, you're gonna wanna see this."

"Aha, I see the Fuck-Up Fairy has visited us again! So who is twisting words now?! Who is making up erroneous claims and living in a fantasy world? Is your ass jealous of the amount of shit that just came out of your mouth? I mean, holy jumping fucking shitballs, Thomas Nixon has to be the most delusional motherfucker on this roster.......and I've promo'd against Micheal Graves!"

He takes a deep breath, letting out an audible exhale.

"Okay.....let me elaborate on my point about bottom of the barrell nobodies becoming somebodies I mentioned before. Since Nixon wants to hang on every word I said and take it literally like trying to explaining something to a 4 year old, I feel the need to do this. So, Nixon, here goes....try to follow along. The guys I was talking about were those jagoffs who come in, cut a paragraph long promo every week for a couple months and get thrown to the sharks by the booking department. Those are the guys I write off. Then every once and a while they pop up again with some shit title like the Federweight or the Heavymetalweight and eventually, possibly, work their way up to being a TV champion. It seems like anybody can be one of those these days. Most fail, some make a name for themselves. You, Nixon, you don't qualify. You are an interesting case. You haven't risen or fizzled. You have hit a plateau and stayed there. You're content with being "okay", with no drive to be "great". The Television Title is your crowing achievement, it is your ace in the hole. It gives you purpose. It is your ceiling. It is all you have been and all you will ever be. I am proud of you, I truly am. You picked a career path and you are giving it your all. But you want to throw names around like you have some kind of trophy case? Gilmour? Cadryn? Mezian? Really? Imperial. Cain? This laundry list of cock gobblers isn't a prize, Nixon. Gilmour, I beat him. Cadryn, beat him too. Mezian.....I haven't faced him yet but if we ever step into the ring together I will beat him like a senators wife when the breakfast is served cold. I have taken I-95 rest stop bathroom shits tougher than Mezian. Imperial? Oh yeah, I beat him too. I put him out of action. Cain, I haven't faced him yet either but if we ever did battle he would be what all others have been---another victim. Just do me a favor and don't EVER compare yourself to Jim Caedus. Hate it or love it--and trust me I hate it--Jim is one of the best in the world and he is the only one who has given the TV Title any relevancy lately. You're actually lucky that Caedus has done something with his life and is no longer the TV Champion because Thomas, he would rip your guts out and feed them to you. Don't think he wouldn't. I have no love for the cocksucker but I know a tough son of a bitch when I see one.

And speaking of Cadryn......do you remember this?


Sure, you kept your belt, but you kept it ONLY because Theo was trying to stick it to AX3. Cadryn pinned you in the middle of that ring, 1-2-3. It is national television, Thomas. Everyone saw it. But the record book says this:


But we all know who won that match.

"Quite frankly, Thomas, I don't know you're relationship is. I don't care what you're relationship is with Brock Lesnar, if I could be honest. You can be his good buddy, you can hate his guts, you can be simply business associates or you could be milking his over-sized prostate backstage for a small fee, it doesn't matter. As far as I am concerned, when you step into that ring, you are partners. You are one in the same. You're both just another notch on the belt of Chaos. You're both........victims.

So go ahead, Thomas, bore us all with some crazy political bullshit again. You're no different than Bill O'Reily and Sean Hannity on FOX who tried to convince the world that Obama was a Muslim plant, put here by terrorist groups to screw America for 8 years. You want to get into a political discussion, Nixon? Why don't you look in the mirror. The president you share a name with was a liar, a crook, and was paranoid about losing an election he had in the bag. He was discharged with shame and dishonor. You are paranoid, also, Thomas. Why else would you spend the first 10 minutes of your promo rambling on about someone on CNN that only conservatives hate? It's your way or the highway Nixon. You are blind to anyone's views but your own. Yet I need to be more open minded? Go fuck a landmine. At least then you will have something to remember you by."


"Can I get in on this?!"

"Get 'em, girl."

" You spent an entire promo talking about Chris, and even in your first one you barely mentioned me at all. It's okay though, I don’t hate you. I don’t care enough about you to hate you. I find you amusing, truthfully. The same way a 2 year old finds Spongebob amusing. Your little lizards thing is cute. It is a cause, a dumb cause, but a cause nonetheless. You go for it! And your big buffoon boyfriend that has been unleashed on the XWF, he can get it too. I mean, Brock, seriously....I gotta give it up for you."

She claps to herself.

“I'm not offended by what you say. I'm just glad that you're stringing words into sentences now. Or at least trying to. That's entry level, but you need to start somewhere, right? It must be difficult for you, exhausting your entire vocabulary in one sentence. Well, you're going all out. Proud of you."

She rolls her eyes.

"So bring your Jimmy Johns. Get your beer. I will make you choke on that sandwich and crush that can on your big ugly forehead. The most must see tag team in the history of this business will put a quick end to this flame, and move on to round 2. Speaking of flames, Your face looks like someone tried to put out a forest fire with a screwdriver. For real, I know a guy, he can fix it all for you. I'll put a word in, he may give you a discount."

"Have you ever considered suing your mother for drinking while she was pregnant with you? And I don't mean stupid clone Lesnar, I mean the Lesnar he was conceived from. And the worst case of fetal alcohol syndrome in an adult that was conceived from her. I am sure you could get some money, Brock. And you, Thomas, you're like Thomas the Tank Engine. 'I think I can, I think I can, I think I can', but you never do and always seem to find yourself in a less than ideal situation. That is where Brock comes in handy. He is the work horse, and you are just riding the saddle. Totally pathetic. For real, Thomas, and not making a joke here......Chris and I are the ying and the yang. We go so well together they should write a book and make a movie about us. We are going to not just beat you and your sad excuse of an advantage but we are going to win this whole damn tournament. Bank on that, big boy---and little boy."

She laughs a bit, flipping her hair and getting out of the warm pool.

"If I said anything to offend you, don't worry, it was purely intentional. Thomas, I'd tell you to go eat a dick, but I don't want to tell you how to do your job. That would be rude of me."