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Lacklan · (09-07-2020)

“Quite the sight, isn’t it, Peter?”

Sarah Lacklan leans against a railing, the darkened Paris landscape before her, the night filled with lights from houses and shops down below. Dressed in a red gown lined with black spider webs, sleeves puffy enough to rise up to her ears, and a hat full of feathers, a breeze makes the petticoats of her skirt rustle around her legs and the tall flowers on her hat sway. Even with the XWF Universal Championship strapped around her waist, taking up most of her torso, she seems the picture of a woman looking down upon the World’s Faire before the end of the 19th century.

“You know why they built this thing? In what is something which should not be too surprising, I do. I research everything, after all. My opponents and how well they have fared, both recently and historically. The locations of my matches, and whether or not I have fought there before.”

A small smirk comes to her face.

“Climbing this tower to retain my Universal Championship will make venue number one hundred and twelve, by the way. This successful title defense against you is match number one hundred and ninety-eight. All those matches and my first fight in France. Interesting.”

She gives a small shrug of her shoulders and the puffy sleeves rustle against the swept sides of her hair beneath her hat.

“The Tower was built as a showcase of both art and engineering, a sign of the progression of France since the Revolution. Some saw it as a monstrosity, others a beauty. Both were correct, I would wager. There’s a military base down below, did you know that? Just used for tours now, of course. As is Effiel’s apartment up top. Relics of a previous time, their intended use long since forgotten, and having found themselves repurposed. Sounds like you, huh, Pete?”

Sarah turns towards the camera and leans her back against the railing, jutting her elbows backward in repose.

“Everything you do, everything you are, is for a time long past. Yes yes, you have notoriety. Yes yes, you are a name which everyone in this company, from our peers to our fans, know. You even get a reaction whenever your name is said. A visceral one, at that! The name ‘Peter Gilmour’ is uttered and everyone within hearing range shutters, throws up in their mouth a little bit, searches for the closest bottle of mouthwash, and pulls out their hand sanitizer. And then, after rolling their eyes at whatever dumb thing you repeat that you came up with a decade ago, they sigh and look for literally anything else to pay attention to.

“Our job is to talk people into the building, to get them to care about our fights with one another as we strive to become the Universal Champion, and then make good on our boasts and promises. But your entire process, from preparation to outcome, is as outdated and useless as the military base below our feet and Eiffel’s apartment before me. The constant, neverending, never changing, never evolving process of yours, of failing to come to grips with our own lack of success to your assertions that you’ll walk away with even a sliver of success and respect, is as tiresome as Fuzz’s broken-hearted tweets, Centurion name-dropping me in every promotional video, Madison's Xtreme Title pinfall attempts, and the embodiment of a poop emoji’s desperate attempts to get me to validate him. They are, in short, better forgotten and the energy used for something worthwhile.

“But I am worried that such an idea is beyond your comprehension, Pete. After all, I asked for your best, man! I asked for THE Peter Gilmour, ya know? I asked for the personification of the XWF, for the man of no boundaries, for the face of extremities. I pleaded for the person who not only identifies with the worst this business has to offer, but regularly fights for it. I said, quite literally, ‘Give it to me, Peter!’ I promotionally busted out of my corset with breasts heaving in desire and anticipation for the very voice of sadistic digression with my cry of ‘I want it ALL.’ And what did I get? What did I receive? Did you pull down the rest of my brazier, rip away my petticoats, throw me to the ground, and ravage me?”

She shakes her head slowly.

“No. To be honest, that would have been interesting. A hungry Peter, erect and full of bloodlust, who would force the Universal Champion to her knees, jam his Super Dick into her money-maker, and skullfuck her until she tapped out and submitted to his masterhood, and then filled her with his sadistic seed? That would have been different. Instead, I got the usual from you, Pete. I got what everyone knows you are. I got what everyone constantly reminds you of. I got what Chaos and Hanari sigh and shake their heads about. I got what not even Vinnie, the ultimate apologist, can support.

“I got the Pete who is tired, flaccid, and limp-dicked, who doesn’t even have enough spunk in the sac to coat the bottom of a thimble.”

Sarah sighs and turns back around, her eyes looking up into the sky.

“You did say one thing that interested me, though. Mind you, I have literally already talked about it...no, really, literally covered this during the build-up to Leap of Faith...but you ARE you, so I imagine you didn’t understand what I had to say. To paraphrase Steve Allen when asked if people in some places ‘got’ his show, you likely heard what I said but didn’t ‘get’ it:

“You asked ‘why.’

“Why, when I was red hot, would I leave the XWF in February? One could say that you have a point. Now, I don't wanna rehash everything I've done in the XWF...I did that a LOT during the build up of Leap of Faith, after all...but if you look at who I was at the beginning of this year, you would see someone that only lost a couple of matches, was a tag champion, the former Anarchy Champion, and with two tournaments on my belt. So, why would I leave? And the answer to that is...focus.”

She pauses and motions towards the sky with her hands.

“I was focused on a championship which had nothing to do with the XWF. Now, I know some of you don't understand that there are multiple leagues out there of comparable size and prestige, but there are. I have spent the majority of my career, that is the last three and a half years, traveling those different leagues as a freelancer. I haven't won gold in all of them of course...that would just be silly...but I have thirteen championships to my name, as well as six tournament victories...and nearly a year ago, I won a multi-stage elimination tournament, not unlike our own War Games. When I walked out of it, I pinned XWF’s own Roxy Cotton to win the World Championship. While I was still the Anarchy Champion here, I was spending most of my professional time in Chicago in all sorts of matches, from singles to tag to clusters, and it all put me in a very dark space.”

She lowers her hands back to the railing and licks her lips.

“It was bad, Pete. I didn’t get along with anyone. I fought with my Beloved. I fought with my sister. I fought with Roxy. I even learned of a brother I didn’t know about...and fought with him! I gave the people I loved, and who loved me, the absolute worst version of me there can be. I was scattered, unable to gather my thoughts, and took it out on everyone. I needed to focus.

“Over Christmas, I took steps to make amends. I apologized to my sister. I reached out to Roxy. I got to know my brother. All of this helped my position with my Beloved. I began the year with my head in a better place. But, there were still too many distractions. I could not represent that company in Chicago as their champion while I had all of the other contracts. And so, I made the choice to focus on one. When it came time for the 5’2” Mafia to end their reign as the XWF Tag Champions...a distinction we actually won on accident, since all we did initially was want to enter a random tournament...I left to be with the one. Yeah, I upset some people when I left, both friends and foes. But it didn’t matter, because I knew I was doing the right thing. I focused on what I thought was important and defended my position as World Champion every single week in Chicago. But that, too, came to an end eventually.

“What about you, Peter?”

She turns back around to face the camera.

“Where's your focus? What are you focused on? When Leap of Faith came around, I was focused on one thing: Walking out with the Universal Championship. Focused on shocking the world of wrestling. Focused on shaking up this entire company. I knew that I had to win the briefcase as soon as possible, so I prepared for Ruby and Page, my best competition, who would otherwise be split in focus for the night. I could basically ignore the skills of a woman who believes getting high is a personality, or the walking poop emoji, or whatever the hell Gage Gannon was supposed to be, but my focus had to be on Ruby and Page. I was prepared for them, excelled, and did everything I set out to do.

“And you? You were, shockingly, focused on those tag titles and bringing an end to Cataclysm. As I mentioned before, you were at your very best in Tokyo! Your failure, shockingly, wasn’t because of that focus. In fact, that focus propelled you to something almost passably close to a contender! Your skills are what ended the night early for you. No matter the scenario, Peter Gilmour vs. Robert Main ends in nothing but a loss for you. But that focus, man! So close!

“But where is it now?”

Sarah’s hands run over the faceplate of the Universal Championship.

“Where is that Extreme Icon I begged for? Where is the Extreme God? Where is your focus, Pete? I asked for YOU in all of your glory. YOU, super dick erect, covered in skat, with a demon chick on your arm. YOU, looking to make good on the promise of superiority. YOU, looking to hoist the Universal Championship above your head. Instead, all I have gotten from you is focus on little more than silence and the same boasting from a decade before. I’ve made the joke...numerous times now...that this match was a foregone conclusion before it was even signed, and all you have done is put focus on the inevitable reality of that. You, with your endless posturing, the face of what was the XWF, have fallen so far behind in the lead-up to this match against the face of what is the XWF that it has become comical.

“I am the epitome of the modern wrestler and you are the last vestige of the garbage and nonsense that this place embodied for so long. And you have made my desire to scrub it clean, to wipe away the grim, to sweep away the smut, so overwhelmingly one-sided that it demands the consent of any of your generation. Now, you're not the only one who was supposed to be more than what I charge you, who had a chance and blew it when it came to me. There are other people who talk their little talks and jerk their little circles, both as the fluffer and the target, who had the opportunity to shut me up and put me down. They failed to back up their own assertions of my position as a lower-tier fighter, and now so will you. I have given you the opportunity to be more than what you are, given you the opportunity to PROVE that you are the God you’ve always wanted to be. And, ten days later, your focus is scattered and off what it is supposed to be on.”

She taps the faceplate with her middle finger.

“Because of that lack of focus, this chance for you to be the face of the XWF and usher in a new world of extremities and class is but the dust of life. Gone. Swept away in the breeze.”

She raises her hand and motions off-camera. Two men, each wearing striped shirts with the XWF symbol etched into the sleeves, walk up to Sarah, one holding a hooked wire in his hand. Sarah reaches around behind her back and unbuttons the leather strap of the Universal Championship, letting it loose. She holds it in front of her, admiring her shining reflection in the plate, and then hands it to one of the men. Together, the two hook the title around the hook.

“Another interesting fact about the Eiffel Tower: They have a champagne room!”

With the clicking and clacking of heels, Kenzi Grey walks into the camera shot with two glasses in her hands. She gives one to Sarah and, as the Universal Championship is raised into the air on the hook by a crane, the two clink their glasses together.

“This is it, Pete. Your chance, not just at relevance, but at conformation. Your chance to prove that what YOU want in the wrestling world, which might well be the equivalent of monkeys throwing their own bowel movements at one another, is better than what I want. Your chance to prove that little girls MUST lose to big, strong men. Your chance to prove that nonsensical bullshit is not only preferable, but superior, to the real world in which I live.”

She motions towards the title being raised up to the spire of the Eiffel Tower with her glass of champagne.

“It’s right up there, Pete. Come get it.”

The camera pulls away from Sarah, her face stern and bright against the darkness, but then she raises her other hand.

“Un instant s'il vous plaît.”

The camera holds still as Sarah slowly lowers her hand back to her side. She keeps her gaze up, her eyes locking on the Universal Championship being raised into the air by the crane, and gives a small nod.

“For all intent and purpose, this promotional video is finished. You may all go about your evenings, enjoy your meals, find personal times with your romantic interests, whatever it may be. These final few words are for one.”

She grows silent again, her eyes still on the rising title belt.

“Bonjour, Monsieur Nickles.”

She lowers her head from the view of the crane, takes a drink of her champagne, and looks back to the camera.

“Everyone in your life...including your newfound peers...knows about the help you need…”

She raises her hand and taps her temple with her middle finger.

“...here.”

She licks her lips.

“But I see the pain…”

She taps the corner of her eye.

“...here...and know that you need help…”

Her hand lowers and she taps her breast.

“...here.”

She licks her lips again and gives a small nod.

“You are far off the path. Lost in the brambles. Caught up in the rough. But I can help you, Charlie. No one is too far gone, no one too off the Path, to not be brought back to the Light. I can take you, with all of your pain, and worry, and loss, and heal you with the Light’s grace. All it takes is for you to ask for help. I am the Pillar of Light. And I am here.”

She gives a wink to the camera.

“See ya around.”

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