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Lacklan · (03-20-2019)

~~2013~~

“And ANOTHER thing!”

The Vampire of Lacklanland screamed at the servants and made them scatter. Men and women in black livery, slashes of purple and silver signifying rank, ran with faces full of fear. They ran from the tiny woman, ran from the voice akin to the keen of a banshee, ran from the pain.

Dressed in a black robe with red lining which hung to the floor. Sarah Selena Lacklan was fury incarnate. With platinum hair loose and swinging about her head as she shook her fist, the red eyes of the girl blazed out of a field of black eye makeup that spread into pointed wings out to the side of her face, and her lips were painted a deep red. Teeth whiter than even her moonlight skin flashed in contrast to the dark lipstick as she roared at them, and she clenches her hand so hard into a fist that her nails dig into her palm.

“When I say a NUMBER 2 PENCIL...I MEAN A GODDAMN NUMBER 2 PENCIL!”

She raises up her other hand to show a several pencils clutched within, each snapped into two.

“Do these LOOK like NUMBER 2 PENCILS?!”

She throws them at the fleeing servants, and we clearly see the number 3 written on them. Most clatter to the ground harmlessly, but a few pieces find the legs of fleeing men and woman.

“WHY IS MY LIFE SO HARD?!”

The girl twirls, sending her robe flying, and slams the door behind her.

~~2019~~

“...and WHY are you bringing this up? We took care of this years ago.”

“I have this opponent, you see, and-”

“Mrs. Grey-Lacklan…”

“Shit up! Trust me, it will make sense!”

“........”

“Sorry….didn’t mean to yell at you, Dr. Reznik. I apologize. Now, as I was saying…”

~~2013~~

The vampire growls as she stalks away from her door, her feet clacking loudly against the hardwood floor in her boots. She stops before her desk, the cherrywood buffed by servants until it shone in the dim light from her purple-colored light stand, and plops down into her chair. She bites her lips in consternation, feeling that fangs which were TOTES going to grow out someday, and eventually slams her fist down onto the desk.

“Fie, these servants! Fie, these guards! FIE, THESE FOOL HUMANS!”

The vampire stands up and pushes her chair back, knocking it behind her. She begins to pace back and forth in front of her desk, her hands clenching and unclenching over and again, replicating the beating of her black heart that was no longer there.

“How many times MUST I THREATEN TO EAT THEM?! How many times MUST I THREATEN TO SUCK OUT THEIR BLOOD? How many times MUST I THREATEN TO FLOG THEM WITH MY WHIP?!”

She stops before her desk and pulls open a drawer to reveal a cat o’ nine tails whip. She pulls out the thing of black leather and waves it in the air, the strips flapping and slapping against on another.

“I am the Blood Princess! I am the GREAT SARHA! They should FEAR me! They should COWER before me! I AM the VAMPIRE OF LACKLANLAND!”

A knock on her door cuts her off. She turns towards the door and positions herself so that she is in the shadows, hidden from the eyes of unworthy mortal men.

“...who is it…?”

Her voice is soft, akin to the purr of a cat, both welcoming and warning.

“Sar? You in there?”

Red eyes roll in the darkness.

“Oh, its just you. Come in Ax. Quickly! Before any DREADED and DEADLY sunlight touches my skin and makes it burn to ASH!”

Her door opens and in walks a brunette of her age. Red eyes lock onto her chest for a reason she cannot seem to puzzle out, and then drift downward to her rear as she turns to close the door. Sarah has never worn a pair of bluejeans in her eternal life, demanding the soft velvets and silks of her robes, but her friend looked amazing in them. Not that she noticed those things.

“...sigh...are you staring at my butt again, Sar?”

Skin the color of a full moon set against the blackest of black nights turns slightly pink at the cheeks.

“No! I don't even like girls!”

Ax turns around and shakes her head at the vampire.

“Sure.”

Sarah narrows her face in anger at her friend and tried to find annoyance in her voice. Whereas Sarah had a British accent with perfect diction, absolute appropriate for a Daughter of Eternal Night like she was, her friend sounded like every other Mainite she knew. Ugh. Maine. She just HAD to figure out a better name for her hometown other than Bangor!

“I have a HUMAN boyfriend, ya know! He's all KINDS of mortal and everything!”

The brunette shakes her head again.

“Whatever. You ready for cheer practice? Car’s waiting downstairs.”

Sarah throws up her hands into the sky and raises her head to follow them.

“But how?! How, I ask you?! How am I, a vampire with the CRUELEST of fangs, fangs which pierce SO DEEP into mortal HUMAN flesh as to suck out the SOUL, ever going to be able to practice our tosses and cartwheels in the EVIL sun?! My skin...my BEAUTIFUL SKIN...would sparkle until it CRACKED!”

Another suffering sigh.

“We both know that you have that smelly sun block from your doctor. Listen, Sarah-”

“Sarha!”

“...whatever...maybe it's time you-”

Another knock on the door stopped what the brunette was going to say. Sarah pushes herself back into her corner and allows her voice to turn into that of the cunning feline once more.

“...who is it…?”

“Daughter.”

The gruff voice behind the door brings a bright smile to Sarah’s face and an earnest excitement to her voice.

“Come in, Daddy! I-”

She shuts her eyes hard and silently whispers ”...fuck…” to herself. She stands tall and opens her eyes once more, still staying in the relative shadows of her corner.

“...I mean...enter, should it please you, Sire.”

The door opens and the doorway becomes a wall of black with a spot of white. Jean-Paul Lacklan surveys the scene, his white mask like a pillar of light against his black suit, his bald head full of angry red and purple burn scars shining dully. Sarah does her best not to smile, to keep her face severe, but she can’t help but feel warm inside as she sees the light of awe and devotion in her friend’s eyes. Good. She SHOULD feel nothing but awe and devotion when looking at her father.

“Ms. Allen.”

His deep voice as he addressed her friend made her want to shiver, and it DID make Ax shiver.

“My...my...my Lord.”

Her father gave her friend a small nod before turning his grey eyes onto her.

“I must speak with you, Daughter.”

She gives him a deep nod.

“Of course, Sire.”

His grey eyes look at her blankly, which makes her want to give him the rough side of her tongue. He didn’t like her referring to him as her sire, but she WAS a vampire, and so he WAS her sire. Obvs. She steps out of the corner to meet him as he walks into the room. He towered over her, of course. She was barely five feet tall, though she hoped to reach upwards to at least five foot ten, and he was over six feet, himself. And broad. So broad! He had been letting her train with him in their gym in the basement for over a year, and while was seeing great progress, his sheer muscled girth took her breath away.

“I wish for you to meet someone.”

Sarah growled low and menacing. Probably another one of her father’s WHORES.

“Her name is Ava Quinn. We work together.”

“Oh, I know who she is…”

Sarah’s voice is full of spite. She had indeed seen this Ava woman from afar. Some drunken slut who didn’t wear enough clothes. NOT the kind of person who should be making moon eyes at her father!

“Not like I do, Daughter. She wishes to spend time with you. Wishes to know you. I have arranged for her to drive you and Ms. Allen to your practice.”

Sarah scowls up at her father but he places a large hand on her shoulder.

“I believe that the two of you will be very kind to one another. Have faith.”

Those two words, maternal advice passed down through the years from the mother who sacrificed her soul to give her daughter eternal youth and beauty, was enough to silence her objections.

“Fine!”

She turns to face her friend.

“Grab my pom poms for me?”

Ax rolls her eyes and smirks.

“In your dreams. Literally!”

Sarah sighs as her friend takes her arm and leads her away from her dear father and towards the unknown of his latest whore, Ava.

~~2019~~

Sarah Selena Grey-Lacklan looks at Dr. Reznik with hope, but the aged man does as he usually does, writing notes onto legal pads, the scritch! of his pen filling the room. She rolls her eyes after finishing her story, knowing it might be a minute or two before he turns his attention to her in the here and now, and instead focuses on her surroundings. She had been inside his Maine office many times over the years, particularly in the last two, and nothing ever seemed to change. His degree in psychiatry on the wall. The plant that was always replaced with an exact same breed in the corner every few years. The desk that never seemed to age. Even the chair she sat in had been replaced numerous times over the years, always the same style and colors of grey and brown. Finally, the sound of the pen stopped and she looked across the desk at him, though the bald head looked back, the wisps of grey hair seeming to be particularly wild today.

“...and you brought this up today...because…?”

Sarah fights hard to keep her deep sigh inside.

“I have an opponent coming up who...well…”

She chews on her lips a little.

“He thinks he’s embodied by a woman from the future who is trying to stop the apocalypse.”

Dr. Reznik looks up at Sarah, his thin spectacles taking in her own thick glasses.

“Excuse me?”

She nods at him.

“Right?! Listen, its supes weird, and horrendously stupid on its surface, but things get even DUMBER recently.”

The psychiatrist puts his head back into his pad of paper and begins to write again.

“Like, this dude...his name is Lux bee tee dubs...has been going on and on in these never-ending videos that are WAY too long...probs in order to overwhelm the viewer because, lets face it, what he actually DOES have to say is only, like, three minutes worth of material but holy SHIT he needs to fill up an hour, ya know...about this crazy-ass backstory, right? But, just a couple days ago, he got all KINDS of triggered with me!”

The doctor’s pen stops for a moment.

“Oh! Um. Triggered means upset. Like, as in, #TriggerWarning? Like, Gilmore got #Triggered because he lost his one thousandth match? Like, Graves got #Triggered because Coppertone took out that little girls’ buttcrack from their ad? Like, Chaos got #Triggered because EVERYONE is laughing their ass off over how he has ZERO CHANCE of beating Omega for the Universal Title? Get it?”

Reznik gives a small nod and continues with his writing.

“So, like, this Lux dude? He LEAPED onto the scene for our match, right? His hands were shaking and his voice was cracking and he was totes about to puke, right? And he’s all ‘NO NO NO NO NO! EVERYTHING I HAVE SAID FOR THE LAST SIX WEEKS HAS BEEN FAAAAAKE! I’M A BIG FAAAAAAKEEERRRRRRR’ and stuff, right? See, he KNOWS what I did to the Fucktard Bros, ya know? I exposed their carny bullshit. And he KNOWS what I did to E-Jam, ya know? I exposed his bullshit rebirth. And he’s, like, tabs afraid that I’m going to make an absolute joke out of him like the rest, right? Because once I rightfully explose his horseshit in my kickass way and everyone sees him for the dipshit he is? His career is sunk! So INSTEAD of letting ME do it, HE did it HIMSELF so as to take away my weapon, right?

“But! Oh, holy hell BUT! This masterbating dude I know? His wife totes, like, already called Lux out on his dumb shit, right? Already was all ‘If you’re from the future, then what’s the future?!’ which is kinda smart, right? Kinda like asking the psychic why they didn’t see their own accident coming, ya know? And in response, Lux...or maybe the chick? It’s confusing...n-e-ways, in response? He busts out this list of Super Bowl winners! Its a shitty list, obvs, because the Pats didn’t win every year, and my boy Brady retired, and we ALL know that he uses stem cells from black market babies to stay young forever, dubs, ya know? But still, he busts out this list, right? Because he’s all ‘NOOOOOO! MY BULLSHIT IS THE REALZ.’ But the problem with that is...well…”

She scrunches up her lips in thought, the motion making her award-winning dimples pop to the surface.

“Was he lying THEN...or is he lying NOW? Like, was it ALWAYS bullshit and he simply doubled down on said bullshit with the masterbater dude? Or is he lying NOW, and his bullshit IS real but he DESPERATELY doesn’t want me to turn him into next week’s jobber by making sure everyone sees him for the moron he is? Which leads me to my story!”

Sarah sits up even straighter in her chair, denying physics that such a feat was even possible, and turns her thoughtful expression to a pleased smile.

“HE believes his fantasy SO MUCH that it HAS become REAL for HIM!”

The doctor looks up as his scratching stops.

“...just like…”

“Just like ME!”

Sarah points to herself with one of her perfectly manicured fingers.

“When I was fifteen, I wanted so DESPERATELY to have some kind of reason for my albinism, right? My hair? My skin? My fucking EYES!”

Those red eyes fill with fire but then cool in embarrassment at the look on the doctor’s face.

“Er...um...sorry...I mean, my eyes...without the swear. I wanted DESPERATELY to understand why I burned so easily, ya know? Only SIX PERCENT of the people in America have my disease, Dr. Reznik, and I was so freakin’ lonely. I mean, YOU know. All the therapy, and such. But all the stares? All the pointing? All the snickering? Just IMAGINE what it would have been like if I had been in a public school! And after a lifetime of that, after going through middle school and getting into high school, I needed SOMETHING. A being a vampire? That was perfect.”

Her fingers point at various parts of her body.

“Bright white hair? Totes could be a vampire. Pale skin that burns like a MOTHER in the sun and thus I have to stay protected, like, ALL the time? Check. Eyes that look like they are freakin’ RED because they ALSO don’t have melanin? SUPER check! Hell, I even have a KILLER bite!”

She snickers suddenly.

“Just ask Kenzi!”

The doctor sighs and looks back down at his pad as he starts writing again.

“N-E-Ways, I wanted it SO BAD...I spent SO MUCH TIME telling everyone...that I started to believe. I stayed up all night and slept deep into the day whenever I could. I had some of my old guards keep me shaded by following me around with big umbrellas. I started eating my meat more and more rare. Developed an allergic reaction to garlic. Lots of little things like that. Hell, there was a few days in there where I even thought I couldn’t see myself in the mirror!

“It was all fake, though. You helped me with that. It took...what...a year of psychotherapy? More? But you got me to realize that it was just fantasy. You got me to realize that it was all in my head. Super important! Super REAL to me! And that mind-body connection MADE me feel the things I was thinking. But once you got my head right? Once you got me to REALIZE that I was NOT a vampire? That I was just a kid...an incredibly beautiful and rich kid, obvs...with a genetic disorder? It all went away. Well, except for the garlic allergy. That stuck, for some reason.”

“And you think this Lux boy…”

“Has the same thing! I think that he really DOES thing that ALL of his Terminator bullshit is REAL! Like, this chick in him? I think it’s just a seventeen year old boy’s shitty Rule Sixty-Three Matrix/Terminator crossover, ya know? But it is SO REAL to him that he even MOVES and TALKS like the chick in his head! And this chick...I don’t know her name...let’s go Ripley...comes out in him when he fights. Like, he has ZERO reason to be any kind of athlete, right? He’s legit just this dude who watched Zoolander too many times and thought that the Derelicte line of clothes was real, right? Just some dirty kid living on the streets. But! Oh crap, BUT! Then Ripley gets in his head and BLAMO!”

She punches the air in front of her, the “sick right hook” which, according to legend, once “knocked a pig out” nearly creating a thunderclap before the doctor.

“Its El Flippingstien becomes the Mayor KO City. It’s that nuts? A CLEAR case of a histrionic personality disorder! And believe you me, outside of my OWN issues when I was a teenager, I have PLENTY of exposure to personality disorders, ya know?”

“And where is your other half today, anyway?”

Sarah’s face tightens at the mention of her wife. Kenzi Grey-Lacklan’s own battle with Borderline Personality Disorder, while not previously well known, was beginning to come to light on a very public stage.

“Busy.”

The pen stops at the sudden coldness in Sarah’s voice, but then it begins again.

“And what do you intend to do about this diagnosis of this Lux boy, Mrs. Grey-Lacklan?”

“Same thing you did for me: Shatter the glass. Break the illusion. Only for him, he won’t have many...many…sessions with a trusted...and ubes expensive...family psychiatrist. He’ll just have me dropping him into the Abyss.”

“You sound confident.”

“I AM confident! But I always am, ya know? Big part of sports psychology! I mean, I’m not taking him COMPLETELY light, or anything, obvs, because that would just be silly. But he is so outmatched that even his psychosomatic belief in Ripley won’t be enough to stop me. See, a couple days ago, I brought up how he’s this one-trick pony, right? Because, like, he does this videos, ya know, like how we all have to make? But his are just the same thing over and OVER again. Same metre, same pace, same structure. Everything! And his fighting style is just like his promo style: One note. One punch. And unfortunately for him, Lux is the kind of guy who nuts in seventeen seconds and is DONE for the night, whereas I’m just getting my engines revved!”

The doctor’s pen stops at the crass analogy but then continues.

“I have all KINDS of tricks in my bag! I followed Daddy’s honor and travelled the world, ya know? I fought all these different styles, learned little tips and tricks from people on how to fight them off, lots of things. Legit, being a freelancer is a HUGE asset in this business! And fighting a pure striker, like Lux is when Ripley's pulling a Ghost and getting up in his taint for a pottery session? I’ve done that. Hell, I’ve fought Sasha Foote, and she was an undefeated kickboxer! Well, that’s what she called herself. Daddy whooped her ass, too.

“So, yeah, I’m prepared for him. Between his repetitive videos and his reliance on doing nothing but mashing the buttons on his controller like a three year old fighting his older sibling, he’s not TOO much. Well, besides a potential stalker! Legit, he’s all OVER what I’m doing! I mean, like, ya know how I have TONS of cameras around me all the time, right? Between all the wrestling promotional videos, underwear football, movies, and such? Welp, I think he has seen ALL of my stuff lately! Hasn’t helped him learn a thing or two about my career, of course, but he’s ALL caught up on how I am OUTSIDE of the ring! A pity for his...well, ‘research’ isn’t quite the right word for ‘jerking off to the sexy-as-fuck albino vlogger, but you get the gist...that ALL he has figured out is who I am when I’m busting out the jewels and NOT when I’m making joints go POP! But, hey, if he thinks that getting me, who I am on camera and in life outside of work COMPLETELY WRONG is going to get him the DUB in Florida...well...we’ll just see how well THAT works out for him.

“Oh! I should have Dolly get him an autograph!”

Sarah busts out her SWEET Windows phone, the clunky device that makes all the heads scratch, and lets her fingers fly across the surface of the keyboard at a speed in which to cause ravenous jealousy in lightening, and the doctor stops his note-taking for a moment.

“Yes. Ms. Waters. Is she not a...liability?”

Sarah pauses for a moment.

“Kinda. Like, Kenzi was all worried about her, since she’s a kid, ya know? But now she has this MASSIVE crush on her, I think, and Ax basically quit over it. Yeah, my Beloved is going to hear an EARFUL about that situation from me, let me tell you! But Dolly...well…”

She sets her phone down on the desk.

“Its not that she reminds me of me. I mean, she KINDA does? I guess? Like, she SOUNDS like me when I was her age. Well, minus the perfect diction and...lets face it...Goth nonsense coming from me at the time...but what she REALLY reminds me of is...Nikita.”

The doctor’s pen begins scratching anew.

“Nikita Dolore? Your trainer?”

Sarah nods her head emphatically.

“Yeah! Nikita started out SUPER young and fighting in these illegal pits, right? And Dolly reminds me of that. Whereas I’m a second generation wrestler with a legit world champ as a father, and ANOTHER legit world champ as my OTHER trainer, SHE had nothing but, from what I can tell, a shit father. Like, I always knew that there would be something like ten or so deadbeats for every one of Daddy, but from what I have looked into, Mister Waters might be worth three or four of those combined. And whereas I had Nikita to teach me how to navigate the waters of a male-dominated sport like wrestling, Dolly hasn’t had ANYONE to show her how to be a woman. She just scraps, ya know? Which is ubes rare in America, let me tell you! You see kids just starting into their teens wrestling under a mask in Lucha, a style that I am undefeated in, as you know, but here? Illegal. Which is why she needs me. Which is why I need to teach her what Nikita taught me.

“See, she’s had a TON of success thus far, but that has been in back alleys, pubs, and human cock-fighting circles. Extreme this, hardcore that, ya know? Fighting the dregs of society. But I can show her so much MORE! I can show here how to fight in arenas! I can show her how to be a star! I can show her how to get out of the muck and mire of the bear scat-filled halls that Lux loses in the opening match for and into the lights and glamour. And how to dance. And comb her hair. And brush her teeth. I can teach her ALL of that!”

“And if she makes it to the final round with you?”

Sarah pauses, her odd red eyes seeming to look inward. She licks her lips slowly, then looks back up at the bald head of her psychiatrist.

“Then I’ll put her down into the Abyss. And perhaps THAT is the best lesson I can give her of them ALL! She got hurt a couple years ago...I know how that is...but has been nearly unstoppable since she’s come back. So she needs to learn that, for all of the scrapping and clawing she’s done against masterbaters, Jedi Knights, and child molesters, she’s still just a kid when standing next to me, the very FACE and DIRECTION of the business. So, taking her down and showing her how to lose? How to let go? How to give in to her superiors? She’s going to THANK ME for it. And then book the after-party that I’ll sneak her in to and get her liquored up! It’ll be GREAT!”

The doctor shakes his head.

“Any plans, Mrs. Grey-Lacklan?”

Sarah rolls her eyes.

“Just Step-Mumsie’s twenty-ninth birthday party on Saturday. I’m LOATHE to go, obvs, but I would like to visit friends. And Daddy’s grave, obvs.”

“And the OTHER Mrs. Grey-Lacklan is okay with this?”

The incredulity in the psychiatrist’s voice is clear, but no more so than the look in Sarah’s eyes.

“Shockingly, she seems to WANT to go! She didn’t put up a fight, or anything? But its probably because she just wants to give Step-Mumsie a shitty gift, or something. My Beloved has that weird humor of hers, ya know.”

The doctor nods his head. He certainly had run afoul of Kenzi Grey-Lacklan’s odd sense of humor. His head snaps up as a chime goes off.

“It seems our time is done. Until next time, Mrs. Grey-Lacklan?”

Sarah stands up and smiles. She spreads her skirts and lowers herself into a well-practiced curtsy.

“Until next time, Dr. Reznik.”

Collecting her purse, she turns to go, but is stopped by his voice.

“And perhaps next time you won’t avoid my question about how you feel about your inability to have children?”

She freezes, her face losing the little color it normally possesses. She swallows with difficulty.

“Perhaps.”

The doctor’s pen continues to scratch.

“Perhaps, indeed.”

The scratching follows her as she leaves.

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