The mirror of Kimmy's locker room is shown, with Kimmy in front of it. In the mirror, her "reflection" laughs.

ʎɯɯıʞ: You mean to tell me, Kimmy, that you've befriended Hunter Payne? Are you moronic? The guy's spent enough time around that psycho Joy bitch to know plenty about manipulating people. And you just fell for his tricks. You do realise, he's the damn captain of the team you're up against on Warfare? He just wants to make sure his little team makes it through to round two of the Lethal Lottery tournament. And he'll bulldoze right through you without a second thought if that's what it takes. You wouldn't do the same, though. He'll crush your heart if that's what it takes. You'll hold back and go easy on him, and then, it's lights out, sweetie.

Kimmy: But, we both respect and like each other. We'll both give our best on Wednesday night... We'll put our friendship aside, but nothing will change no matter who wins.

ʎɯɯıʞ: That's what you think. But you can't trust him. Joy may be a bitch, but that forgettable group surely ditched him for a reason.

Kimmy: I... I don't know. I have to go. I have interview time.

ʎɯɯıʞ: Trash talk airtime, more like.

Kimmy: I don't really want to trash talk anyone. I don't want to hurt their feelings.

ʎɯɯıʞ: It's fine. Everyone does it, right? And if you say something that offends someone, just apologise later. They'll understand.

Kimmy: I guess. So... I trash talk the other team, then?

ʎɯɯıʞ: Yeah, mostly them. My concern is that you won't know what to say. I do, though. Let me take over for the interview.

Kimmy: How? I can't bring Sayors in here to talk to you about my match.

ʎɯɯıʞ: You forget that I'm not quite the same as just a person. I can speak through you. Ignore the stupid demonic posession clichés. All I'll do is make the trash-talk a little more interesting, and then come back and return to the mirror. Promise. Now, place your hand on the mirror and shut your eyes.

Kimmy nervously places her hand on the mirror, inhales slowly and closes her eyes. The reflection seeps in through Kimmy's hand, into her body, in the form of a red and grey smoke. When Kimmy's eyes open again, she smiles and walks to the door.


A camera flicks on in a room set up for and interview. Two red armchairs sit in front of a white curtain. It's not much, but it's sufficient. Steve Sayors leads Kimmy-K over to one of the chairs and she sits down. Sayors sits in the chair opposite hers.

Sayors: Alright, Kimmy. You'll be competing on Team Smoke Man against Team Payne in the first round of the second Lethal Lottery Tournament here in the XWF. Your match, is in fact the main event of the night. If there's a time to shine, Kimmy, it's now.

Kimmy has her head lowered with a smirk on her face.

Kimmy: Oh, how right you are, Steve. I certainly plan to make the best of this match.

Sayors: Of course. After the attack--

Kimmy: Yeah, you saw how I was after that psycho attacked me. But I've finally picked myself up from it. It won't be long before I prove my worth in this company. And trust me, I certainly have plenty of worth. I'm not scared. I realise now that my little friendly approach got me nowhere. I held a "big title" a couple of times, but only in a small company with indy-level wrestlers. This time, though, my gold will mean something.

Sayors: So, you have plenty of reason to win the tournament, I see.

Kimmy: I sure do. And honestly, winning is all that matters.

Sayors: Are you okay? Last I heard, you were saying that the experience of competing was what mattered. Didn't you say you loved everyone in the XWF? Have you given up on making friends around here?

Kimmy: Given up seems like an unclear term. I've moved on from it. People don't respect each other for being nice and caring. That's what I've discovered. I would have done anything to help a friend, but that should go both ways. And it never really has. You can't rely on people around you, because they will always let you down.

Sayors: But plenty of people like you already. The majority of the people I've spoken to say that when things are getting tense around the locker room, you're like a breath of fresh air. You bring a cheeriness about that they don't get to experience much.

Kimmy: And you think I care?... Like is not a synonym for respect or trust. All I wanted was respect and trust. Respect for trying to make them happy. Trust that I wouldn't go behind their back like they do to me.

Sayors: Who goes behind your back?

Kimmy: All of them. They talk about me. You'd know. You do it too.

Sayors: No, I don't!

Kimmy: All I care about now is the tournament. And I'll take everyone out to win. And if that hurts their little feelings, that's their problem!

Sayors: Wow, you have changed.

Kimmy: Damn right I've changed. Let me address everyone on my mind right here. Right now.

Sayors: Well, this can only go badly... Go ahead, though.


Kimmy: Let's start with my number one issue. Egyptian Snow Pharaoh. You see, contrary to the belief of , I want to meet her in this tournament. Hell, I dare the bitch to make it far enough to face me. She knows how that would end. She had her little band of thugs assaulted me before choking and threatening me. And you think I'll put up with that kind of shit? She better hope she doesn't make it past round one, because I sure as hell will. And at this point, I'm about as ready as anybody is to snap her neck. And now Hunter Payne. Hunter tried to bullshit me. I gave my little fake smile back to him but I know what the fuck he's doing. Trying to use me as a tool to get his lousy team through round one. Yeah, buddy. That'll totally work. Why don't you go back to kneeling down for a mouthful of Joy's big purple strap-on? Don't lie, kiddo. You like being used like that. You can't cover that up, Hunter. Stop crying on my shoulder about it, because I really don't give a shit. Speaking of his team, what about that Juan Madison chick. Ahaha..... Pathetic. Who am I? You think in two weeks time, nobody will know who I am? Wrong. While you've been in an orgy with all sixteen of your cousins, I've been training. And you talk up John Madison like he's some kind of god. Well, that's not true at all. He makes shows more boring than an Alexandra Callaway trash-talk... Oooh, don't go there, Kimmy! Too late, I am.

Kimmy stands up, and faces the camera as she talks. Sayors stands up next to her, and tries a few different hand signals to make her stop, but she ignores them.

Kimmy: With careful consideration, I realised that your little box of two dollar "gifts" to me was really just to get back at Rebel. I'm not blind, bitch. I know you inside out. I know that if I serve a purpose, you'll help me. But if I don't you won't. And why is that? Because you're not a friend. You're Eli James IV's mindless lapdog. I know Eli's on my team. Big fucking deal, he can still go literally bash himself repeatedly with his bible. Couldn't make him any more delusional, could it? Now, the McBrides... Michael McBride, Ex-IRA, but I guess that doesn't say much. Oooh, you're trained with guns and know how to snap a guy's arms when he comes at you with a knife. Anyone in XWF can take down a guy with a knife, assuming they have a few brain cells. And Connor... Who exactly is Connor? The less notable McBride, that's who. And the first one wasn't even that special. Who else... Peter Gilmour, I guess. Who doesn't mention that guy in their trash-talk? I think it may actually be a requirement to include him, in order for it to count for trash-talk. Because he's a giant ball of trash... And blubber. Everyone throws fat jokes at the guy, and mentions his inability to form a decent insult. But, what about his wrestling ability? Seriously, guys. It's an issue. It's a damn meatball running around the ring bouncing off the ropes and knocking down skinny guys who resemble pieces of spaghetti. Wa-lah! You have dinner in however long it takes them to make their entrances. Now, speaking of fat idiots, what about Barney Green? He's huge. But you know what's even more amusing? He's called the... What is it? All-Night Tranny Thriller? Wow, that's just disgusting. So he likes tits and dicks? Hmmm... Lemme see. Why don't you go talk to Liz Hathaway? I believe that "girl" packs sausage. Or, if you are a bug chaser and want to get yourself a nice dose of chlamydia, I think that Silver girl, whatever her name is does some decent bulk deals. And if you think that's bad--

Sayors: Oh my god, Kimmy! I think that's enou--

Kimmy spins around and backhands Steve Sayors, sending him stumbling back. He falls into his chair which tips back and Sayors rolls across the floor and doesn't get up. Kimmy ignores Sayors' groans of pain and continues her rant.

Kimmy: Do you all get that I'm serious now? Not one of you intimidate me! Nobody I've mentioned or haven't mentioned! Duke, MacAlister, Diaz, Nova, Wild, Thraxx, Arzegotti, Mystica, Radio, , Administrator, Charlotte, Van Dam, Lang, McGovern, Zero, Dyson, Bute, Santos or any of the GMs who I...... And that's all I'm going to say on the matter. Not even everyone I've mentioned is in the tournament, and I don't care. It's not just the tournament. It's the company! XWF! Fuck XWF! Hopefully I've pissed enough people off to make things interesting around here...

Sayors finally gets up, and as he turns around he gets Kimmy's K.I.K kick to the face. A bicycle kick that busts Sayors' face up a bit and leaves him unconscious on the floor.



Kimmy gets back to her locker room and closes the door behind her. The walks up to the mirror and places her hand up against it. The red and grey smoke comes back out of her hand again and enters the mirror, reforming as Kimmy's reflection.

ʎɯɯıʞ: See? That wasn't so hard.

Kimmy drops down to her knees.

Kimmy: NO!.... You lied to me. Why would you do something like this. You've gone and started issues with about half of the company!

ʎɯɯıʞ: So I beefed up your trash-talk. Big deal. Sue me... Oh, wait. You can't.

Kimmy: You're supposed to be helping me.

ʎɯɯıʞ: And I am. I'm making your purpose known to everyone in XWF.

Kimmy: That was NOT my purpose. I don't WANT these people mad at me. I rmember everything you said. That was horrible.

ʎɯɯıʞ: You'll never make it anywhere if you try to piggy-back off your "friends". Now, I've solved that problem for you.

Kimmy: By taking my friends away from me? Oh my gosh, what am I going to do?... Where's Steve Sayors now?

ʎɯɯıʞ: Probably not where you left him.

Kimmy: No! You left him there.

ʎɯɯıʞ: Really? That's not how he remembers it. Kimmy-K hurt him. Twice. I don't think he'll be wanting to talk to you for a while, now.

Kimmy: So now I'm stuck with all these people mad at me?

ʎɯɯıʞ: 'Fraid so!

Kimmy: But... They'll come after me.

ʎɯɯıʞ: Sure. But you have some serious leg strengh. A good K.I.K Kick to the face will make them sorry they even approached you.

Kimmy: Look! I don't need your help! You've made me look a horrible person out there. You've made me everything I don't want to be. People cared about me, but now I bet they just want to kill me.

ʎɯɯıʞ: Well, take this into consideration. What would a real friend to you do? They should be able to tell that you weren't acting like yourself. If they're going to attack you without giving you a chance to explain what went on, they probably never cared about you in the first place.

Kimmy: But what do I tell them? My reflection took control of my body and talked shit about them? I'd be lucky if they didn't drag me to an asylum after beating me to death. That's not what I want.

ʎɯɯıʞ: So, I guess you have a few enemies. Makes things more interesting. Now take them out one by one. In the ring or by attack. When everybody sees that they can't beat you, they'll cower. You will have control. You will beat John Madison and be XWF's first Queen. Doesn't that sound like a cute little title to have? One hell of an accolade!

Kimmy: I guess winning would be fine, but why do I have to hurt all these poor people in my path. That's not like me.

ʎɯɯıʞ: Why not? They hurt you. Underneath it all, you're hurt by them. And they need to understand that.

Kimmy nods slowly in response as she looks up at the reflection.

...................
Who says, who says you're not perfect?
Who says you're not worth it?
Who says you're the only one that's hurtin'?
Trust me, that's the price of beauty
Who says you're not pretty?
Who says you're not beautiful?
Who says?