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Lacklan · (12-28-2019)

Dear Sir,

I hope that this letter finds you in good health. As athletes of the highest level, we are nothing without that health, after all. Health of body, so that we might kick and punch. Health of mind, so that we may be analytical and conniving. Health of spirits, so that we may have the tenacity and strength so as to persevere in the darkest of times. I hope that this letter finds you as hale and hearty as possible, so that you may enjoy Christmas in a few days, so that you may

“SE-LE-NA!”

Sarah’s entire body freezes at the screamed cry from down below. While once used as a term of affection, of a sign of their closeness, the sound of her middle name coming from what seemed the depths of hell was far from a lover’s embrace. Sarah sets down the long pen tipped with a feather, careful to not let the red ink drip from the pointed nub and to her strong parchment before her, and turns in her chair away from her desk at the sound of the thudding footsteps. No sooner had she prepared her self in her best like, making sure that her hair sat just right and that her legs were crossed in a way that would suggest sensuality and, she hoped, disarm the ire that was coming, than the door had swung open to admit Medusa herself. Thin microbraids flailing about her head as she stormed in, Kenzi’s stern expression and angry eyes made her seem the Gorgon of legend.

“Your FRIEND is driving me INSANE!”

Kenzi holds up her phone in her hand and shakes it about.

“WHY did you give her your social media accounts?!”

Sarah shoots a quick glance to her work, the letter upon the table beside her, and then quickly back to her wife.

“Because I’m busy, Beloved!”

“Busy? BUSY?!”

She shakes her phone all the harder.

“She’s driving EVERYONE nuts with her cult nonsense!”

Sarah narrows her odd red eyes at Kenzi.

“Our church is NOT a cult, Wife.”

Chocolate eyes narrow to match the red.

“I know a thing or two about cults, Sar, and-”

Dear Sir,

Christmas week is upon us, meaning that our battle for far more than just the right to brag, is now less than seven days away. I am eager to step foot in the ring with you, as you can imagine, as I have previously stated the importance of our unsanctioned match. For you, it is the opportunity to right the wrong of the Tag Team Tournament. For you, it is the chance for Noah to erase the acrid taste of failure. For you, it is the moment in which your family, such as it is, takes ahold the bridle of the wild horse that is mine, and tame your way to some modicum of victory for only the second time in the various combinations of your camp and mine.

But for me?

For me, Sir?

The chance to eradicate a cult.

My wife likes to bandy around that phrase, or title, if you will, ad nausiem when members of our House displease her. For instance, and you may have seen this at some point, I allowed one of my oldest friends to “take over” the social media accounts associated with “CoolTube,” the service which, among other things, used to house my former “PrincessTwilightSexyFang” podcast. And in doing so, my old friend, who herself dabbled a touch in XWF promotional programming several months ago, let loose a series of tweets which raised the anxiety levels of Kenzi to an untold amount. While I admit that Ax’s positions on some things are a touch too conservative, much like those held by my Step-Mumsie, they are relatively sound. Yes, she needs to see the Light when it comes to those various issues, like homosexuality, for one, but she understands the importance of what God ultimately wants. He wants professional wrestling to reign supreme. He wants the world to see us wrestlers as the pinnacles of mankind, as His greatest children. He wants the world to flock to us, to be their heroes and role models, to see us channel His divinity through body and spirit. That is no cult, Sir. That is honest. Pure.

What Shane

wishes to give unto the world is different.

I will not stand by and watch Corey be taken advantage of. I will not stand by and allow that young man, really no more than a child, to be used by the wills of a madman. I will not allow

, and Madison, and Lord Above knows who or what else, abuse that emotionally unstable child into becoming the Engineer. I will not stand by and allow our glorious sport to be made such mockery.

That is why I MUST win our fight, Fuzz! Because this is MORE than just you and I! This is MORE than just

“Your MOTHER is driving me NUTS, babe!”

Sarah sighs again as she sets down her quill. She looks up from her desk and takes in her room...her old room...as Kenzi stomps back and forth in long yet tight lines, her arms waving wildly. She is smart enough to bite her lip and not mention that Kenzi is pacing in the way she does, clearly picked up from their nearly four years of being together, and instead kept her eyes on the old room. Old pictures on her walls, pictures of her and Ashley in their cheer uniforms when she was crowned Homecoming Queen. Pictures of her accepting her gold medal at the CIF swim meet, with her the woman who would later become her step-mother beaming proudly behind her. Pictures of her in the gym deep in the basement at the manor, wearing embarrassingly little, bend down and about to lift 135 for the first time with the sharp and critical eye of her father watching.

“She just. Won’t. STOP!”

Sarah turns her eyes back to Kenzi just as the caramel-skinned starlet speaks in her terrible French accent.

“Daughter, you really should open your mouth wider when you speak. Daughter, you really should cover more of your skin. Daughter, you really should stop saying ‘Tom Cruise’ when you really mean ‘the One Lord God.’ Daughter, can I interest you two girls in my new ‘Born Again Virgin’ program?”

Sarah narrows her eyes a bit at how bad Kenzi’s accent is, knowing the actress likely does it on purpose to show her disdain for her step-mother, Aveline Lacklan. Sarah’s body moves back an inch in her chair when Kenzi suddenly whirls on her.

“We’ve only been here ONE DAY, Sar! ONE DAY! And we’re supposed to be here for half a week? I’m going to end up wringing her neck! Or Ashley’s! Or BOTH! Why, I-”

“BOSS!”

Sarah bites her lip in order to hide the sigh of relief that wanted to come out over Kenzi’s tired being cut short. One of the women in question, their personal assistant Ashley Allen, bounded into the room with a face full of worry. Sarah’s bite turns into a grimace as she sees Ashley’s attire: Covered in neck to toe in conservative clothing. It was cold in Maine, to be sure, but “Ax” had been that way in California last week, too. Her friend had always enjoyed subtly flaunting her unnecessarily large chest, but something had changed in the girl in the last few months while back at school, and that external view of something even extreme for a Mormon was matched with some views that had found themselves on the wrong side of the conservative/liberal line for her liking.

“Bosses,” she amended when seeing Kenzi. Sarah did her best to ignore the way Kenzi’s dark eyes turned to daggers at the site of her. “There’s a problem back at the Egg?”

Sarah freezes and feels a coldness deep in her stomach.

“...the Hooded…”

Relief fills her when the brunette shakes her head.

“No! It’s something else!”

She pulls out her phone and shows them a picture of their back yard. It was flooded.

“What the-”

“What did you do, Ashley?!”

“What? It wasn’t me!”

Sarah ignores Kenzi’s immediate assumption that Ax did something wrong and instead zooms in on the picture. Nods to herself when she sees the source of the flood.

“Shane must be crying again.”

She looks up to see the questioning look in Kenzi’s eyes, so she shows her the zoomed in image. Indeed, the life-size and highly detailed bust of Shane

’s face, including the permanent 5-o’clock shadow and dead eyes of a man-child living in the basement of a house he doesn’t own. She’ll never be sure how the lapidist was able to enrapture the feeling of dread that is “I spent so much time jerking off to hentai tentacle porn that I’m now late for my two-hour shift at Jack in the Box” into the gemstones of Shane’s eyes, but it was quite remarkable.

“See? There’s so many tears that the pool has flooded over!”

Kenzi can only sigh.

Dear Sir,

I hope that you have had a nice Christmas among your family. My attempts to finish this blasted letter have found many obstacles, and my own Christmas vacation with family has been the cause! Did you know I have a family? I would excuse you, should you not, for so many people are wrapped up in “ERMAHGERD YOU IZ LESBIAN” that they may miss it.

You disappoint me in that regard, Fuzz, but I will get to that later.

I have gone on at length about my Beloved numerous times in the prior fourty-nine promotional videos I have produced for this company. I never expected to find someone like Kenzi, and indeed, meeting her changed my entire world view. But, again, I have gone on at length about her, and a bit about my father, as well. My father, now sitting at the side of the One Lord God, was a powerful man, both in and outside the ring, though he spent much of his life being filled with hate. He was all I had growing up, though, and he loved me. My mother died during childbirth...something which is a significant risk for me, as well...and I had no siblings.

Until now.

Did you know that I have a sister? Father did not. My sister’s mother fled in the night...for reasons I will not get into...but we found one another through the grand designs of God. She is my (non-spouse) best friend, Angelica. I will not bore you with the details of how she, and eventually I, found out about our shared parentage, but we are now in a place where we have to deal with one another. We have a brother, as we recently found out, though literally only the Lord Above knows how he factors into life.

I have a step-mother who hates my life-style...and a mother-in-law who ALSO hates my life-style.

In the end, while the “Lacklan” household was lonely...albeit within a castle of “old” money...the “Grey-Lacklan” household is turning out to be massive! I quipped the other day that I have a wife I don’t deserve and a family I would rather not have...and Kenzi got all UP on me about that...but I understand that I have a responsibility to that family. I have a responsibility to that name and house.

How is your family, Fuzz?

Much of my time here has been filled with fighting that family. After initially staking my place in the fallout of March Madness, I found myself dueling both in barbs and wristlocks with both Noah and Vita. And unfortunately for them, regardless of how they feel or how they wish the narrative would read, I bested both. But then you came around and, in the midst of your excellent run, turned them into something MORE. Before, Noah was a one-note sideshow act good for a chuckle or two. Before, Vita was held to a fake persona that only found traction in being Corey’s Girl. But NOW, but WITH you, they are MORE. I have never been the best at math, but I understand that one and one make two, and that IS all that Noah and Vita make together, but with YOU they make and ARE more. Somehow, one and one and one make four. Maybe even five.

I have made the importance of this match known, at least from my perspective. It is about taking away the beast that Shane and Maddison wish to unleash. It is about saving Corey from a life of being used. It is about what is RIGHT. But it is ALSO about my family and yours. It is about the Grey-Lacklans versus the Sick Cunts. It is about the true life blood of the XWF, the work horses, coming together and bringing a measure of legitimacy to a company focused on “spooky shit,” if I may paraphrase you. It is about our two groups fighting for supremacy so that one may rise to challenge Corey and

“Ma fille! Ma fille!”

Sarah sighs as she...again...sets down her quill. Sitting in the Great Room, the fireplace before her roaring in life on a cold day after Christmas, Sarah’s eyes roll back in her head. The heavy french accent heading her way made her want to sigh heavier than ever than at any time in her life, but her odd red eyes catch the series of portraits on the wall above the fireplace and they force her to hold it in. Several portraits lined the wall, each intimately detailed. A man, with muscles bulging, wearing the white mask that was tattooed into her right shoulder. A woman of bright hair and dark eyes, her mother. Portraits of a pale woman with red eyes and another of a dark woman with a mass of braids, the Grey-Lacklans. Another of a woman in a headscarf with wild green eyes.

”Bonjour, Step-Mumsie.”

Aveline Lacklan, dressed in a sleeveless black dress with purple trim, including the conservative headscarf, stomped towards her. The scars on her arms, lines of both neat and jagged slashes, catch the light of the fireplace with a shine, and they wave in the air with agitation.

“What is this PROFANITY that I see! What is this ABOMINATION!”

Sarah sighs as her hand slips to the “profane abomination” she knew was being referenced. Her fingers run along the piece of jewelry attached to her stomach, a diamond-encrusted black spider, dangling from her navel. She had immediately had her belly button pierced by the Official Lacklanland Tattoo and Piercing Artist as soon as Kenzi had given her this special Christmas gift, of course. They man did excellent work and, along with many of her father’s tattoos, had added much of the shade and color to her own tattoos and pierced her years when she was twelve.

“It’s just a piercing, and I-”

“God ABHORS this kind of thing, Sarah! The ONLY person who was EVER allowed to alter his body this way was your father, Il est ressuscité, and HE was different because-”

Sarah sighs as she settles in for yet another lecture about how imperfect she was.

Dear Sir,

You disappoint me, Fuzz.

Please note that my disappointment is not in your record or accomplishments. Indeed, few are the returning legends or veterans who are able to be more than a passing fancy in the modern world, and you have excelled beyond measure. Fourteen and three since your return, with great impact. Championships, valor, strength in the face of your detractors, and an admirable, if unhealthy, demand to “see the brackets.” But it is BECAUSE of those successes, and your ability as a warrior, that I find disappointment.

To be smitten with my games so, Sir? A pity.

I had the opportunity to enjoy your initial promotional salvo during this Christmas vacation as I relaxed next to my aforementioned undeserved wife and unwanted family, and in doing so, discovered that you, like so many before, fell for the “trick” that was the simplistic girl obsessed with clothing and amorous adventures. To remark so much about how my “personality” is simply being a woman married to a woman is the hallmark of the simplistically minded, the Carvers and Gilmores of the world.

You are better than that, Sir.

YOU should be able to recognize strategy when you see it! YOU should be able to see through the veil of mystery and misdirection. YOU should be able to determine a true strike from the feint that sets up the killing blow. YOU should be able to deal with the distractions of media, posturing, and mind games, and get to the heart of the threat in front of you. YOU should be able to see MY shine.

Or perhaps you are not better? Perhaps you feel the need to use the easy reach of “hey, look at the

” because you are, indeed, at the level of those bottom feeders? Perhaps you are, after all, just as big of a waste of time as a member of the T.H.U.G.S. And if that is the case, then the result of this match, so important to me and so unimportant to you, is already determined.

I am younger than you, Sir, but do not lack in experience.

I am smaller than you, Sir, but do not lack in tenacity.

I am faster, possess more guile, and, unlike you, understand the importance of this match.

You may sling mud in hopes of being praised for your “shit-talking” skills, but I will not do that. I am invested in this match in a way that no insult or chiding could dare compete.

While you make deals to have Corey leave you alone, I instead rush into the mouth of the beast.

Yours,

-Sarah Selena Grey-Lacklan
The Pillar of Light

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