10-07-2019, 05:39 PM
“You ready?”
Kenzi’s face was darker than normal, the Bahama sun giving her caramel skin a chocolate look that helped bring out her freckles, but the look of intent brought a brightness to it that filled Sarah’s body with barely-contained eagerness. The “holiday” to the Bahamas had been for three-fold purpose: A little alone time to enjoy themselves in the surf, to be a part of a charitable event not unlike their own recent Gayla, and this moment right here.
“Always.”
Sarah puts her hand forward in a fist and Kenzi returns the gesture, the two bumping their fists together. They then slip through the crowd towards the back of the ring, where the two people in it were busy looking at a person talking at the top of the ramp.
Palm trees and light posts fly by as the black car drives down Hollywood Boulevard, the Knight Industries replica zipping by with a roar. Behind the wheel, Sarah Grey-Lacklan’s expression is tight and dark, the eyes behind her glasses lined with red in a sign of exhaustion. Next to her, Kenzi Grey-Lacklan slumps in her own seat, her head resting on Sarah’s bare shoulder, lost in a light sleep. Both were darker than they were just a few days previous, with Sarah’s pale skin showing a small tint of pink, as even her pharmaceutical-strength sunblock can only do so much during an island weekend. But as Sarah loses herself in recent memories, not even her exhaustion can keep the smirk off her face.
The crunch of Noah’s head being smashed between the twin punches fills Sarah’s ear as fully as the fire of being in action. Noah crumbles to the mat at her feet, the victim of a sneak attack Falcon Punch, and lays motionless. Her red eyes, constrained as they were behind the thick contact lenses, light up with satisfaction as she turns her eyes to the center of the ring, where Centurian has propped up Vita Valenteen. She gives the older man a quick nod of her head, the “price” of the infamous Grey-Lacklans attending his event being paid in full, and she and Kenzi hit the ropes. They rebound, leap into the air, and connect with another Falcon punch, the impact giving her Anarchy rival no choice but to join her partner on the mat.
Sarah’s fingers dance on the wheel of her car. It had been a couple of days since the Bahamas, but she could still feel the tingle in her hands from the satisfying impacts. The thud of Vita’s head and body had brought a smile to her face then, and the memory of it turns her grin into a wide smile now. A hard twist of the wheel sends the car screeching into a turn, and she can see the familiar image of the odd egg-shaped house Kenzi had recklessly bought with ill-spent gambling winnings rapidly approaching.
Sarah’s jacket was too large for the weather of the Bahamas, but it had served its purpose of giving her a measure of anonymity while she snuck through the crowd. Now, she reaches down and unbuttons the light blue number and pushes it away to reveal her Anarchy Heavyweight Championship title. She looks down at Vita, unbuttons the belt’s straps, and hoists the title into the air. And in an even greater show of a plan coming to fruition, she places a single foot onto Vita’s stomach and flashes her Billion $$$ Smile to the audience.
Sarah’s body fills with warmth as they approach the large gate leading to their house. Built of wrought iron and featuring an ornate “G-L” in the center, the construct provided beauty to go with the security. A quick flash of her Billion $$$ Smile to the lone guard in the small room on the side of the road had the gates opening wide and the car driving through. But her breath catches as they approach and find that a car is waiting for them, parked in the middle of the round-about drive and in front of their door.
“Babe?” asks Kenzi, the sudden change in Sarah’s demeanor causing her to awaken. A slight shake comes to Sarah’s hands on the wheel, her lips lose some of their soft rose color, and the beginnings of a sheen of sweat come to her brow. “What’s wrong?!”
Sarah points a shaking hand, the freshly-painted nail helping Kenzi’s gaze focus on the car before them.
“He’s here…” Sarah’s voice shakes with an even great timber than her hands. “...the Hooded Man...he’s here.”
She stops the car with a jerk, causing them both to push forward and slam backward in their seats.
“He...he follows me...watches me...he knew where we were. He knew we were in the Bahamas. He KNEW, Beloved! And now he’s...The guards! I’ll go get-”
“No.”
The finality in Kenzi’s voice makes Sarah look at her and she sees a stern expression on Kenzi’s dark face. An expression she had seen in times right before someone got hurt. Kenzi takes Sarah’s hand and gives her a nod.
“Not in OUR house. He’s OURS.”
Sarah’s breath comes in staccato bursts, tiny rapids inhales and exhalations, but she returns the nod. Out of the car they go and silently up the small set of stairs to their front door. Kenzi turns the handle, finding it unlocked, and gives another nod. Sarah grimaces as her hands shake even more, feelings of dread and worry running through her unchecked, but she tries her best to match Kenzi’s expression of cold and focused anger. They nod to one another again and Kenzi slowly pushes open the door, careful to not cause a squeak, and the Grey-Lacklans slip into their home.
Prepared for anything, they are surprised to find darkness and an undisturbed foyer. The left side holds three racks of shoes, all organized by color and in place, with a dozen parasols of varying colors hanging on the wall. On the right, carelessly discarded shoes, jackets, and empty candy wrappers and bags of chips. Everything seems normal. The two move forward through the foyer but then stop after a few steps as they see a pale light to their right.
“...kitchen…” mouths Kenzi.
Sarah nods and takes a moment to pull back towards the door. Reaching up, she unhooks two of her parasols, one green and one blue, and hands one to Kenzi. Kenzi raises her eyebrow and Sarah swings the parasol like a baseball bat. Kenzi looks at the frail item in her hand and gives Sarah a flat look. Sarah shrugs her shoulders in response and Kenzi shakes her head. The two stand on either side of the hallway leading to the kitchen and then, with a nod to one another, run in side by side, holding the parasols high into the air.
“AHHHHHH!!!!”
“GET HIM!!!!!”
The two run screaming into the kitchen but come to a sudden stop as they see a thin man with graying hair look up at them from the refrigerator, a slice of bologna in his mouth, and surprise in his eyes. Sarah’s own eyes fill with confusion as Kenzi gives voice to her own surprise.
“Steve?!”
“Hey, guys,” says Steve Sayors, as he takes the piece of Kenzi’s cheap lunch meat from his mouth. He closes the refrigerator door and regards the two. “How was the Bahamas? You two left before I-”
“Steve!” Kenzi’s angry voice makes the wrestling journalist jump slightly. “What are you doing HERE?!”
Steve blinks a few times and takes another bite of his bologna.
“Well, you invite me over for interviews so often that I figured I have a standing invitation. And you guys are the new Tag Team Champions, and there’s the Anarchy thing, and I figured you could use some interview time, and-”
“BABY JESUS’ SWEET APPLE BOTTOM!”
Sarah screams up into the heavens before walking over to a chair and plopping her full weight down into it. Her red-hued eyes are full of rage behind her glasses as she looks up at him.
“You nearly gave me a fucking HEART ATTACK! I thought you were HIM, you...you...GAH!”
Her entire body shivers and she throws her parasol to the floor with a clatter. Kenzi walks over to her and places a hand on her shoulder and Steve gives them both a curious look.
“Him? Who did you-”
“THE HOODED MAN, FUCKBRAIN!”
Steve visibly recoils from Sarah’s scream.
“I...um...but you are always so...uh...nonchalant about him whenever anyone asks? I’m-”
“That is my JOB, Fuckbrain! Which is abs your name now, bee-tee-dubs.”
She opens and closes her gloved hands a few times and grimaces at them, as if mentally willing them to end their shake. They do not listen.
“That camera turns on and BLAM! Blood Princess. Mean Girl Overlord. Mistress of Typos. Verbally berate my opponents. Accentuate their weaknesses, bury their strengths. That’s my JOB. But off the clock?”
She shakes her head and looks back up at him.
“Two years ago, I was stalked and kidnapped by a delusional boy I grew up with. Did you know that, Steve?”
Steve starts to give a shake of his head and Sarah growls.
“Of course not. OF FUCKING COURSE NOT. The DARKEST time in my life and not a single FUCKING PERSON in the XWF, including their star reporter, knows that. And not because I hide or bury it. That shit’s on YOU PEOPLE.”
She looks back down as Kenzi slips behind her and rubs her shoulders over the puffy dress.
“Some of you know about the accident...that I was out of commission...but no one bothered to look into the context. I was drugged. Taken. And as he fled with me...he crashed...changed our lives.”
She shakes her head again as her hands finally begin to end their shake.
“He’s still in a coma, Fuckbrain. And I hope dies that way. Me? Six months in a wheelchair. A couple more in rehab with my Beloved and our friends helping me along. And then another six months of part-time competition to get me back up to where I wanted to be. Back to full-time work this year and that’s how you guys were introduced to me.”
She takes off her gloves to reveal her pale hands, then removes her glasses and pinches the bridge of her nose and eyes in an effort to relieve stress.
“And then the Hooded Bastard comes into play. For a moment there, I thought it was Jacob. I even checked. Went to the hospital. Saw him still hooked up to wires. Nurses said that there was no change. So the Hooded Fuck couldn’t be him. Just what I need...another stalker...another puppy nipping at my heels.”
She lets out a deep breath as Kenzi slips her hands under the neck of Sarah’s dress to give skin-on-skin contact. Sarah looks up at Steve, blinking several times in vain to see him without a blur.
“What do you want, Fuckbrain?”
Steve narrows his eyes a bit at the repeated usage of the name, but then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone.
“Interview?”
Sarah sighs but then Kenzi laughs as she turns the rub of shoulders into a pat on the head.
“Your turn, babe. I’m going to bed."
She looks up at Steve.
“Not too long, okay? Been a lot of travel. Oh! And don’t be surprised.”
Before Sarah can stop her, Kenzi kisses the top of her head, waves at Steve, and is out of the kitchen. Sarah sighs again as she hears Kenzi’s “dainty” footsteps going up the stairs and then looks at the interviewer.
“Three questions. And that’s it.”
Steve nods his head and turns on his phone. As he does so, his eyes open wide as Sarah visibly changes. She sits up straight in the seat, her back like a plank and her chin slightly above the horizon. Her face fills with a confident and icy stare as she puts her glasses back on, and Steve can see that the shake in her hands has fully gone.
“You may proceed.”
The confidence in her voice matches her posture, and Steve understands Kenzi’s warning to not be surprised. The Blood Princess was before him. He clears his throat and then pushes the start button on his phone.
“First, I have to say congratulations to you and Kenzi for winning the Tag Team Tournament...which may or may not have had an official name...and becoming the champions on the final day of Relentless. What does that win mean to you?”
Sarah smiles at the question and a softness comes to her eyes.
“The world, Fuckbrain. The entire world. Kenzi was in my very first promotional video as a wrestler, dating back to my debut for FSociety in January of 2017. She was with me for my first title win, tag team gold in Canda, later that year, and she was by my side as I won my first singles championship. She has been with me every step of the way, my partner in not just this business, but in life. And when I told everyone in this company that they were FUUUUUUUUUCKED when she agreed to join me in this tournament, people mocked me and made fun of me. They scoffed! ‘Oh how...how...HOW...could two little bitty teeny tiny girls EVER defeat FULLY GROWN MEN?!’ cried the keyboard warriors!”
She lets out a giggle.
“By doing what we ALWAYS do. Outsmarting. Outwitting. Outpreparing. Three teams, each with two ‘fully grown men,’ three victories. From scoundrels and veterans to legendary clowns to two guys who COMPLETELY shit the bed when they had a chance to prove that their own success was NOT a fluke, everyone fell to our superior tactics and skills. And because of that, I have a VERY special addition to Lacklanland West being unveiled next week. Can’t wait for you all to see it!”
Steve nods as he presses a few buttons on his phone.
“Staying with Relentless, what about Vita? And the controversy over-”
“Bitch, please!”
Steve’s eyes go wide as the heat in Sarah’s voice cuts him off.
“There is no ‘controversy,’ Fuckbrain. There is no ‘OMG WE HAZ TWO CHAMPS’ nonsense. Here is the reality, though CERTAIN PEOPLE have a LOT riding on the hopes and dreams of fools: Vita put on her Big Girl Panties. He woman’d up. She cashed in that briefcase and shot her shot. And what happened?”
She pauses for a second.
“She got beat.”
She gives a small shake of her head.
“All of this nonsense after? I’m not mad about it. You’re not going to see me getting mad online and crying out to the world ‘NUH UH! I IZ TEH REAL CHAMP!’ like those neckbeard warriors want me to. Because I know the truth. I know reality. No matter what some random GM that has nothing to do with Anarchy has to say, no matter how bad former owners and their Universal/World/Global/Undisputed/TheNameLiterallyOnlyMattersToCryingPissbabiesWithAgendas Champion butt buddies wish it were otherwise, no matter how many times Vita posts it on some form of social media. Just like every other person on Anarchy, Vita faced the Queen, one-on-one, no way out of it, and got Sarah'd.”
“I see. But what about the idea of a unif-”
“There IS no need for a unification, Fuckbrain! There is ONE champion. And I know that SHE wants another shot at me, SHE wants an opportunity to redeem herself, but I have ZERO interest or intent on boring EVERYONE by letting her go ZERO AND FOUR against me. That being said, there IS ONE chance for her to get another shot at me. Exactly one.”
Steve raises an eyebrow.
“And that is…”
“She has to beg me.”
Steve blinks.
“She-”
“SHE HAS TO FUCKING BEG ME, FUCKBRAIN!”
Sarah stands up out of her chair, her eyes full of fire.
“That little wannabe has to crawl to me, on her GODDAMN HANDS AND KNEES, look up into MY eyes, and cry out ‘Oh, Queen of Anarchy! Oh, Anarchy Champion! Queen of the Ring! Tag Team Champion! Please! PLEASE! I beseech you! I am not worthy, but PLEASE give me ONE MORE CHANCE to lose to you!”
She calms after a few seconds, the fire leaving her eyes, then gives Steve a smile.
“Last question!”
Steve thinks for a moment.
“Griffin M-”
“Has a chance to NOT be the same buffoon as everyone else.”
Steve raises his eyes and motions for her to go on.
“This entire company is a rollercoaster on how they view me. They praise me when they hope to gain my graces, they slander me when they face me. They switch sides faster than Corey switches between boxers and panties depending on what they believe will be most convenient for them. Annoyingly inconsistent, if you ask me. MacAlister has the opportunity to show me that he is something different.
“A couple of months ago, he likened me to the Terminator due to my overwhelming and unyielding success. As well he should! I have WON four TIMES the amount of matches that he has even HAD in this company this year, and if he was smart, he would stay consistent with his view of me and prepare to fight a machine. Will he recognize the fact that I have won so much gold in such a short time, or will he fall back to this idiotic idea that I’m a child who does not know the science and art of fighting? What WILL the gunslinger do?”
She gives a shake of her head.
“For his sake, he had better do the former. Because if he does the latter? I am going to WRECK him. Now, if you’ll excuse me...I would like to get some real sleep for once.”
“Can I stay-”
She shuts off the light and walks off.
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