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Jenny Myst · (07-09-2022)

"Are you going to complain every time you get an opponent?"

Ash's words burned into her mind as she sat there, looking at the floor. There were small drops of blood on the floor from where she had punched the mirror in frustration. There were small pieces of glass strewn about as well, clearly from her mirror-punching episode.

When she was informed that it would be Bobby Bourbon trying to take Goldi from her this week, and knowing her margin is razor thin and a re-match again is slim to none, she felt her blood pressure rise. She began to quiver with unadulterated hatred. Bobby Bourbon won the March Madness tournament, and was on a bit of a hot streak as of late. She didn't pick Bobby for her War Games team, despite him being first on her prospect list. She hated those lists. SO MUCH PRESSURE. But she felt like she made the right choice with Raion.

OF COURSE they would give her Bobby.

They didn't want her to have Goldi anymore.

To make herself feel better, she knew she had to bleed a little. Staring in the mirror she began to see the Jenny Myst of old. She began to see everything she hated about herself, staring back at her with a pearly white smile encased in black lipstick. She needed to get out of this hotel, she needed to get some fresh air.

Trapped.

So grabbing the old stroller she found at the church donation bin, she put Goldi inside and strapped the buckle.

There were a couple Internet Cafe's around Portland. That was about all there was to do. Maybe she would get a nice crepe and some black coffee, check out the nerds. Portland, Oregon was so much different than Las Vegas. No flashy lights, no entertainment venue on every corner. You had to make your own entertainment here.

She wheeled the stroller into the café and parked it next to a window seat. There were people sitting around, all typing on laptops. Some had headphones in, some didn't. Some had coffee, others had herbal teas. All had at least one pastry. All were skating the line between male and female and had more piercings than a pagoda. These people were free, they were living the way they wanted. They knew who they were, and didn't care if anyone cared. Before she knew it, there was a server at her table. Blue hair, tatoos up the wazoo, a septum piercing.

Beautiful.

"Thanks for coming to the Red Square. I'm Siren. What can I getcha?"

Jenny ordered a croissant, and a black coffee. Apple juice for Goldi.

The server looked down at the stroller with a smile. "Aww, Goldi. Unique name. How old?"

"About a month" Jenny said, "About a month, but I didn't have her for two weeks" Jenny said that in a cold, very matter of fact tone.

"Isn't she adorable?"

Jenny moved the swaddling blanket to reveal the XWF TV TItle. It was wearing a baby onesie, turned sideways to fit. White with pink elephants on it. Siren raised an eyebrow.

"Oh...I....yeah....she's a little cutie for sure. I'll uh...I'll get your order in right away."

"Apple juice, remember. She's picky about her breakfast beverages."

Siren the server walked away and Jenny turned her attention back to the frantic typers.

Sitting among them was a clearly stressed younger dude. He had big glasses, a comic book tee, was a litte overweight with shaggy hair, and wore sweat pants with pro-ked sneakers--or so thats what she could tell by the one leg sticking out from under the table. He was sighing audibly, running a hand through his longish hair. He would type a few things, then every so often slap the coffee table, sometimes disturbing those around him. Jenny, interested, made he way over to the man. What could possibly have him so upset?

"Whatcha doin?!" she said, more excitedly than was warranted. It clearly startled the man, as he jumped a little. Noticing it was a small woman who was looking over his shoulder, he had a sense of relief.

"I...uh....."

She stood there smiling. It took him a moment to stammer it out.

"I am working on my roleplay."

Her eyes lit up.

"Your what?"

"Roleplay. Or, RP. You will probably think its silly, but, I am part of what is called an E-Fed. It's a wrestling thing where you make a character and have to write promos against other members, and the best one wins."

"Sounds fascinating," Jenny said, pulling up a stool and plopping down. "Show me more."

The guy, clearly having limited interactions with females he wasn't related to, nervously explained it. Everything from creating your character, to how to craft an interesting story, to shoot promos. Jenny soaked it all in. Her crossaint sat at her table, her coffee was getting lukewarm.

".....and I have an opponent this week who is really good. The e-fed loves him, and he wins a lot. I am a champion, and I know it is going to be a challenge. So, if you don't mind, I am on a deadline and have to get this in on time."

Disregarding this, Jenny smiled.

"So...like, you can create your own character?"

"Yes"

"And yours is....like.....you?"

"No. Mine actually has supernatural powers and the strength of ten men. He is a bit silly but also can be serious. He is from Europe but currenty resides in New York City."

As he explained his character, her thoughts drifted.

It reminded her of being a young girl and playing with her dollies. She used to make them be whoever she wanted, and set up entire stories around them.

She loved brushing their hair.

"So, like.....I can make my character be an over the top, obnoxious fuckboi who is morbidly obese, wears a spandex jumper and face mask, and goes on adventures as an anti-hero with a witty charm but morally ambiguous?"

He looked at her, raising an eyebrow.

"Literally, anything. You can be whoever you want, that is the beauty of the internet."

"And then I can change that characters entire image on a whim and be totally different while keeping the same name and likeness?"

"Yes...I thought I made it clear anything is possible"

The man sighed.

"But my opponent this week is really good. I don't want to lose my title but I am not entirely sure how to beat him."

Jenny looked at the man, and a lightbulb went off in her head. It was time for her to, for once, not be the vulnerable one.

"Are you going to complain every time you have an opponent?"

He looked at her. The smile never broke her face.

"I....I mean....I guess not.."

"Go beat him. You can do it killer."

She pats the man on the shoulder before walking back to her table, grabbing Goldi's stroller and leaving the cafe. She left a $20 on the table for Siren.

Back at the hotel, Jenny had two chairs pulled up to the desk in the room. One, for her, and the other for Goldi. She had now glued googly eyes onto the belt so Goldi could see what she was doing.

She had gotten the information on the E-Fed from the cafe man. She logged on. Thank god for free Wi-Fi.

"Okay Goldi, here we go. We are going to create a whole 'nother world. Are you ready?"

She assumed that Goldi nodded, emphatically.

She opened the "Log-In" page, and then clicked "Sign Up".

"Here we go."

CHARACTER NAME:

The dolls came screaming back into her head. Their plastic faces melting, their round black eyes burning holes white hot into the back of her skull. Her hands began to shake. She has wanted this for so long, but she was nervous!

So much pressure!

Shaky hands typed in the letters, slowly.

J E N N Y M Y S T

She had all the freedom in the world to be literally anything in her mind that she wanted to be. She could create anything, there were no rules.

She always wanted to be someone else.

Sometimes, finding yourself is enough.

She hit enter and closed the laptop, sighing with a smile.

"I never used to like blood. I used to be grossed out by it. Hell, everything used to gross me out. Gawd, I was such a diva! But I was guilty. Guilty as sin, Bobbert. I was guilty of being someone I am not, all because I cared about my image. I cared what other people thought of me. How they viewed me. I actually cared about my hair and makeup. I had to make sure my outfit was point. I let myself be swayed by the opinions of people I thought I cared about, and as much as it pains me to say, I let myself go sour. I was so desperate to be liked, looked up to, revered, that I refused to change, even when I should have. I dug my heels in and told everyone that they have to like me, I shoved the me that I wanted to portray down their throats until the point where I had a nervous breakdown.

We aren't so different Bobbybear. We are cut from the same cloth, we just have some different threads. You want people to like you just as much as I wanted them to like me. You crave it like an addict craves their vice. Attention is your muse, and you'll do anything for it. You're a funny guy, a comedy act. You're carrot top with a beer gut. The world is your prop, Bobert. The fatal faw that I made was that I stuck to one thing too long, but you don't stick to anything, do ya? You have the attention span of a toddler. You are always looking for the next big pop, the next thrill. You want to align yourself with whatever is cool and popular at the time, whatever faction will help get you ahead without doing the work yourself. The bastards are you crutch, you lean on them for an angle because you aren't confident enough in yourself to do something unique. Hell, you aligned yourself with B.O.B back in the day, though never officially joined, because you knew they were taking over the ratings and you had to be a part of that. I aligned with B.O.B because deep down inside I was desperate for someone to like me, to make new friends, to feel normal. You did it for the cake and juice at the stable meetings. You got involved with the "Bastards" because you needed that back up, knowing you'd be eaten alive alone, and you shove your over-the-top persona in all of our faces like it was your own original idea. Your passion project.

You're a sham, Bob.

I shoved my mean girl image down everyone's esophagus because I didn't have a crutch, I didn't have a fall back, I didn't have back up. I was alone on an island and that island sat in shark infested waters. You've always been linked up with someone, and adopted their gimmick as your own. Ever since I broke off from Empire and Chris Chaos, I've been solo dolo. I have accomplished what I have on my own, with the entire world on my shoulders, and my face on everyone's dartboard. The reason you've been able to coast the way you have is because when someone starts something with you, they have to start something with all of your butt-buddies as well. The pressure has always been off of you, and you've been able to be a comedy act while throwing integrity of competition completely out the window. You could sit back and be a prick to everyone, inside and outside the ring, and you've always gotten a pass because of your affiliations. And you're funny. Everyone here likes funny. They like to listen to a promo, see the shenanigans, and chuckle to themselves. They like to be entertained. I am sorry that I don't entertain the way you do. I am sorry that I tell a story about depression, a broken childhood, mental illness. I am sorry my stories are a little darker. I am sorry I don't have the luxury of being as carefree as you do. I am sorry that I can't be everything they want me to be.

I have spent enough time just trying to figure out who I want to be. I am still not even sure, but for the first time in my life I don't feel like I am trying to impress anyone. I can be what I feel. I can go about life the way I want to, react how I feel I want to react, do the things I want to do. I don't have to pull my hair out every night and cry into the mirror worrying about fitting a mold that I hate just so that people will like me.

Because I don't like them.

I don't like you, Bobby. I don't like anything about you, never have. I know the feeling is mutual, and you don't have to like me. You have your support, you have your shoulder patting, you have your clique of supports. I have me. I have Artie. I have Goldi. That is all I need. I can have my own tea party while you shave your beard one week, grow it out the next, gain some weight, lose some weight, wear a suit, wear spandex. Whatever they want. Whatever makes you funny, whatever makes you entertaining.

Jenny grips Lance's ear--which is starting to look more worse for wear--in her palm. She brings it to her mouth and closes her eyes. Goldi sits on the chair next to her in front of the computer screen. She breathes heavily a few times, then opens her eyes.

"I never used to like blood. I used to be grossed out by it. Funny how things change in life, huh? Now I could drink it. I could put it on my Taco Bell like hot sauce, and not bat an eyelash. I like blood because it makes me feel more human. It makes me feel alive. My blood, your blood, their blood. As long as its red. So I put my dear friend Goldi on the line, and once again I get to pick the stipulation. You probably think I am going to choose a first blood match, don't ya? It would only make sense since I just talked about how much I love blood. But no, Booberry, that is something that you would do. It is what the fans want to see, it is what management wants to see because it is what the fans want to see. You're the guinea pig who would do that for them, I am not.

The match stip worked out so well for me last time, didn't it? GaRRy was able to overcome my plan and take Goldi from me, albeit temporarily. Now, he is laying in a cabin somewhere in Nelson County, nursing that lump on his head. This time, there won't be a loophole. This time, you are going to have to play my game the way I want it played. Champs advantage, right?"

*she giggles, twirling her hair*

Dollhouse match.

What does that mean? Well, put it this way, we aren't playing with dolls Boberto. We ARE the dolls. Sounds fun, right?!

One of the things I used to love the most about dolls as a little girl, was you could make them be whatever you want. Dress them up however, and use your imagination to create an advanture all yor own. I figured this would be right up your ally also! Aren't I generous?! What that means is that I am going to dress up like the XWF member of my choosing. It'll be so fun. But what is even more fun, is you get to dress up as the XWF roster member of my choosing, too!

MEEEEEEEEEEE!

Hehehehehehehehehehehe, yes Bob-tart, YOU have to dress LIKE ME. Lavendar shirt, paint stained overalls, knee-high fishnets, converse. Blonde wig, white makeup with black accents. Hell, you even need the pink highlights.

Yes, Bobby. You have to dress like me in the dollhouse.

But wait.......theeerrrreeee's moooorrrreeeeee......

You have to use my move-sets as well. You can't use the Bobbybomb, the Flying Circus, or any moves you have become accustomed to. They have to be MY moves, or you'll be disqualified.

But oh, don't worry, I have to dress like and use the moves of who I choose as well. But I guess you won't know that until I get out there. Sucks to suck, eh Bobbino? I'd get watching the tape and practicing, or not even bother showing up.

I've always wanted to be someone else, but never could. Now, we get to play dress up. I've invited Goldi but she may have to cover her eyes. I don't play nice."

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