“The eye of a hurricane is a real Cyclops, and confusing a blink with a wink can be deadly. Sometimes I flirt at 100 miles per hour.”
― Jarod Kintz, This Book is Not FOR SALE
Undisclosed Fairgrounds
Somewhere in Arizona
12.02.2004
8:17pm
“A quarter for extra sprinkles?!?”Amber had never seen a 13 year old so incredulous as she barely restrained her own grin, the sheer defiance that radiated off Cassidy Parker in this moment would have been far more astounding had she not also been pouting stroppily.
“Come on, that's a rip off.”With an easy smile, the young local charged with minding the ice-cream van leaned further into the makeshift window, clearly finding greater purchase in these negotiations than his opponent, even now the edges of the soft serve started to dribble down the edge of the waffle cone- however Cassidy was less than moved.
Stubborn was an understatement, maybe that's why Amber had come to love the younger girl- a willingness to fight, to scratch and claw for what she felt was deserved… even if they were only a goddamn quarter.
“Maybe so, but it's half of what I’m charging anyone else who doesn’t have their last name plastered all over this shit show.”Amber shook her head slightly in reaction, he wasn’t exactly wrong- from the moment they’d rolled into town it seemed as though the universe had conspired to force them to leave again. There was that damn stubbornness again though, this time Grizz and his ‘show must go on’ mentality that would just as easily see them all in jail as it would under the accursed glow of neon.
Everywhere they went- Grizz believed the people wanted to be entertained, they wanted to be amused and amazed, they wanted to be dazzled and most importantly- they wanted to empty their wallets, even if they didn’t know it yet.
“We pick our own poisons, Bambi. We take what we’re given and we drink to the last drop cause anything less is taking it for granted. Maybe we don’t like the taste, maybe we know it’ll be the death of us- but we drink it down all the same.
Burning the lot used to be a rarity, now it's more commonplace than a welcome back.”
Even now, Amber could recall the times when locals gave them sideways snarls and furtive glances as though eye contact might be infectious-
Burning the lot… Grizz had mentioned the term a couple times, mostly in the context of when the law enforcement showed up on arrival into town with the strongly worded urge that they carnival should keep moving instead.
Thinly veiled threats did little for hostilities and less for peaceful reconciliations.
“It's when a carnival cheats a town so badly that they won’t allow anyone back for a long while. Little attempt to conceal the cons, brazen shenanigans with planted marks- think of it as socially and professionally salting the Earth…”
“How about… a dime.”With some indistinct rummaging, Cassidy pulled a lint covered dime from the pocket of her jeans as though she might have just found the key to perpetual energy or world peace.
With a raised eyebrow, the surprised glance travelled from Cassidy to Amber and back again with a certain comedic slowness.
“Let's put it this way sweetheart... Even the Queen of fucking England ain’t getting extra sprinkles for a dime.”Petulant but determined, Cassidy straightened up and reflexively fixed the ponytail of boundless curls that fell like tendrils at the base of her neck. Amber tuned out slightly, her mind wandering and distant as the negotiations continued heatedly- besides, Amber knew Cassidy had at least five dollars strewn between pockets and socks.
Perhaps being surrounded by scum and pickpockets had made her paranoid, even though no one would ever dare try it.
“Thought I might find you sweet things near something sugary and delightful.”Sticky sidled up beside Amber, hell even his presence made her itch uncomfortably. With his baseball cap slightly tilted as though he saw it once on a rap video, Sticky gave Amber a very obvious up and down look before turning his eye to Cassidy…
“... Don’t you dare even think about it.”Amber's low growl resonated from deep within dredged from somewhere beneath her diaphragm, slathered in bile and venom and audible only between them as it reverberated through both their souls simultaneously. Sticky shuddered with a soft groan as though subtly and single-mindedly trying to make literally every interaction as disagreeable and galling as humanly possible.
Leaning in, he lowered his tone to match only finding something more guttural and insincere crossing his lips.
“Ooohhh, I like that. Do that again, but say my name....”Amber edged closer with a look that stopped even his advances col- whilst the thought passed between them whether looks truly could kill. Sticky brushed a few tresses that had almost matted into dreadlocks away as his face regained some semblance of colour.
“I’m serious”“So am I, you should talk to me like that all the time”“I’d rather put you in a hole and piss in it.”“If I knew that's what it would take to get you to piss on me, Red I’d have dropped dead years ago.”Amber recoiled violently, the back of her tongue caked in bitter bile as she swallowed hard, just in time to watch Cassidy secede in neotionations and dig into her pockets to pull out the remainder of the quarter she owed- making sure it was in as much small currency as possible. Most would have considered the act petty and impolite, but that mattered less than ever as her hand became quickly stained with ice-cream and wayward sprinkles.
“Let me be clear Sticky, I hope you live forever- only cause I think death is far too good for you. Given the opportunity I’d reincarnate you as a fucking ant if only so I could have the distinct pleasure of crushing you into the dirt and no one caring.”Sticky contemplated for a moment, his gaze travelling over towards Cassidy as she approached then back to Amber before falling somewhere in between.
{color=orange]“Y’know Red, one day… she ain’t gonna listen to you anymore.”[/color]
Amber said nothing as they both watched as Cassidy happily licked away at the diminishing soft serve while, perhaps thankfully, still out of earshot by the time Sticky murmured something under his breath that made Amber see white.
“... and I can only hope that when that day comes, she’s gonna be sucking up my cream like that.”Sickened to her stomach, Amber turned on a dime and drove her left fist through Sticky’s jaw- woefully unhinged, she wanted to vomit just as badly as she wanted to put his face through the centre of the Earth. Cassidy was her little sister, maybe not by blood, but by heart… by spirit… by sheer goddamn force of fucking will… and if Amber could help it, Sticky would never get within 5 feet of her ever again.
It took a few moments to reconnect with her body, but in those missing seconds she could only presume that she’d driven her knee into his chest and tried to swing wildly at his face as Sticky pitifully tried to cover up.
Whether she was hitting or not seemed irrelevant- she just wanted him to understand in no uncertain terms just how far he’d chosen to cross the line, and that a simple sheepish grin wasn't gonna make that go away.
“Fucking hell Amber, whats gotten into you?!”Small hands gripped at her shoulders, trying to drag the raging redhead from a quarry that might have resembled Sticky under a bloodied and beaten facade. Only now did her fists ache- a cut from one of his teeth coming loose had sliced into one of her knuckles while her jaw throbbed from having been clenched to the point her teeth might turn to dust.
Shocked and dismayed, completely oblivious to everything beforehand, Cassidy managed to pry Amber off and into the dirt where she skidded slightly- blood and sand mingling across her half-clenched fists.
“Have you lost your goddamn mind?”Amber stuttered slightly, unable to articulate her fury. Somehow it was the waffle cone now sideways in the dirt and melting fast and the multitude of sprinkles now disappearing into the grassy like crappy sugared confetti, that drew her eyes first… A sudden wave of guilt followed by a renewed sense of indignation.
Cassidy, clearly shaken, eyed them both warily as Amber tried to straighten herself up.
Perhaps it was the universe or just her eyes playing tricks on her- but behind the bloody bubbles in the corner of his mouth and the fast rising swelling of his right eye, Amber could have sworn she saw Sticky fucking smile.
******
“I do love me some irony kiddies.
Not the irony of 10,000 spoons and no knives, but the kind where we take names in this business that we have no justification towards- but be damned if we don’t cause they sound cool.
I’ve been doing this a long time, probably far too long according to my doctor and likely everyone who’s ever had the known misfortune of sharing a ring with me when I’m having a rather shit day.
Spoilers, for those inclined, that's more often than not these days.
Stay off fucking social media, that's your tidbit of advice for the day.
Fact is, I’ve thrown hands with leviathans and living legends, spat thumbtacks into the eyes of beasts and beauties- maybe that's all made me a little blase, a little embittered beyond reason cause I’m so sick of everyone thinking that their name means more than what they do in that ring.
We take up our mantles as representation- that's the appetizer, that's what gets everyone enthused and excited but so many think they have to sound ‘cool’ as though that changes the fact they exude as much determination as a toddler doing a sudoku.
Don’t laugh, those things are hard.
Here’s the thing though Krystal… I never gave myself my own names, I didn’t decide that this was going to define my existence. I used my real name cause I take responsibility for my actions and suck up the consequences regardless of how they might burn on the way down.
I didn’t get called a hurricane cause I hit like a gentle autumnal breeze, I didn’t earn the mantle of a distorted angel cause I’m the type of girl you bring home to mom and dad in the fucking suburbs.
I could have been anything in this industry- I could have walked in calling myself ‘BitchFace McBadass’ from day dot and still done everything I have, but it wouldn’t nearly have meant as much cause Amber Ryan… she’d have been the second best face I wore.
Wolfe. Apex predator. Alpha.
Not the worst choice you could have made- I mean plenty have been worse, there are those out there who change their identity on a weekly basis I can’t even tell if I’m fucking dissing the right person when I try to @ them.
Hey Christina Crystal Rose Disappointment Hilton Zdunich, hey yeah… Go shine up my title real nice and then fuck yourself.
Seriously though, it's just a shame that such a defiant and hard hitting name now refers to, what is essentially, a goddamn rookie.
That's not your fault of course, everyone has to start somewhere.
We all need to have that match in the beginning of our careers that tests us to our limits, that sets the bar for what comes next and possibly unleashes an unseen potential that will carry you on for months, maybe even years to come…
This match is not that match. This match is the one where you learn that some people aren’t meant to be beaten at this time, that you’re allowed to be woefully out of your depth while still swinging for the skies in hopes of striking lucky with god’s pinky toe.
This match is a fucking exhibition, it's the match that either makes or breaks your career cause the fact is- if you can survive a match with me at the moment, then you’ve got something inside worth bottling and selling on the dark web.
You’ll lose, but you’ll do it with your head held high, right? Cause optimism… Yeah, optimism is fucking toxic and I don’t want you to get any of it on me.
Don’t think any of this is cause I don’t like you- obviously the name Krystal might need a little work given the shared company, and frankly I think you deserve a little better than that association, if anything I’m pretty indifferent to your whole existence.
Despayre trained you. Mark Cross is teaming with you. I should feel a little more intimidated considering I’m the proverbial odd man out- but the truth is, when we step in that ring… Everything you’ve learned, everything you’ve soaked up from GO Gym like a precious little rookie sponge- it's getting tested against battle hardened, no nonsense, hard hitting reality.
I might be known for my hardcore antics, but I can throw down wiht the best of them- you don’t have to dig far into my records to see that having weapons is just a plesant bonus.
I handle my shit and I do it on a level that you’re aspiring too…
Instead of being inspired though, you’re absolutely fucking terrified.
Hell, I mean you’re running scared before you ever come face to face- all those cute gifs on Twitter, the passive anxiety ridden tweets and the fact you’re literally advertising the fact that you’re terrified before I’ve ever thrown a punch- which, by the way, is very flattering however I’m still gonna make you swallow a few teeth just as a memento.
You’re turned me into the goddamn boogeyman, the monster under your bed and a disappointed parent all in one… while that's highly amusing and increasingly irregular, it doesn’t make me pity you, it certainly doesn’t make me change my outlook.
Tournaments have always been a favourite of mine, and I’m known to be pretty damn good at them.
Whether it was you, whether it was that ineffectual excuse for a bombshells champion or even any other woman who signed up for this absolute shit show- I’d approach this match the same way. With the mentality that I’m winning this whole damn thing.
I’m not taking you lightly Krystal so let's not get that idea all twisted- I’ll deal with Christina when the time comes and when I decide it's worth doing, she’s not a factor in this match and if she tries to be then she won’t fucking make it to Blaze Of Glory. No, I’m laying out the facts as you’ve presented them sweetheart- and you’ve lost this match before my music ever hits…
That's not disrespect though, that's the most honest I’ve ever had an opponent be with me.
Frank. Harsh. I like it.
You’re taking a swing at the reaper hoping that you don’t hit, that I’m gonna take this with a grain of salt and you might sneak out with your life- reputation is one thing but it's not everything.
When it comes down to it Krystal, you’re dead weight before the match ever starts- and maybe concrete boots don’t bother dragons all that much, but you gotta think it becomes a hindrance on that rise to completing the double.
I mean it’d certainly be impressive, wouldn’t it?
Dragging the dark horse into the light of success only to watch her flounder under the pressure. You’re not above taking that weight on yourself, at least you certainly strike me that way- problem is, you also strike me as someone who uses blunt humour to dissuade his insecurities.
Maybe it’d be triumphant even, a story to be regaling across the bar for years to come- yeah that's all well and good until you wake up and realize that you’re somehow missing a chunk of your dignity and also a pant leg cause wrestling is weird.
Call it a trial by fire if you want a little wordplay, a test for the great Mark Cross to see if he can defy the odds and drag a determined bright spark through the mire without her pristine attitude getting stained by all the fucking assholes who’d rather see her fall within their ranks.
I just wanna see what happens when you start tearing away the layers, all those defensive mechanisms and defeatist attitude- maybe there's something underneath or maybe you’re far more fucked than when we first started this little dance.
In the end, I don’t need a knight to slay this dragon- your partners gonna do that well enough by herself. Cross, sweetheart, you’re already chained to the mountain of expectation and your partner has openly admitted to tightening the collar.
Despayre isn’t some goddamn schmuck in all this, it's a team effort and I might be a fucking piece of shit down to my bones, but I’m gonna stand by my partner until the end- whether that's now, which it won’t be, or at the end of this tournament with our hands being raised side by side.
Loyalty is a lost art, and I’m a lot of things but a traitor sure isn’t one.
Don’t get me wrong, in the end we’re all gonna tear this fucking roof down, but the problem is that you’re getting left under the rubble and we’re crawling out with a little dust on our t-shirts ready to face the next pair of whoevers trying to avoid us in the brackets.
I get Despayre might be different, hell he might be out of his goddamn mind and off his rocker- but that little bragging right achievement you keep waving around trying to overcompensate Cross? Yeah, you’re not the only one looking for the extra notch in the belt…
Only difference is that he managed to do it with a far worse partner against better opponents- whereas you’re about to trip at the first hurdle cause your partner tied your fucking shoelaces together. Face down in the dirt ain’t so bad at first darl, after awhile you get used to it and never wanna leave- hell, I’ll even come back around and kick a little dust in your face after the final just so you can say you got a taste of victory off the bottom of my sneakers.
Despayre. Amber.
Yeah, it turns out that your esteemed partner had it right all along, Cross.
Cause it’s not up to Despayre and I to win, that's just the most beautiful thing about this all, it's up to everyone else to stop us.”******
Undisclosed Diner
Reno, ND
17.02.2021
8:33pm
“... and both with extra sprinkles?”For a moment, Amber seemed to have lost herself in a haze. Everything recently had become far more blurred at the edges, her perspective on the world in a constant flux that she couldn’t quite pinpoint the source of- it seemed like everything in her head was moving and she was starting to get a little seasick.
“Yeah, as much as you can manage. If they’re not drowning in them, it's not enough.”Amber shot the woman a smile and hoped that it didn’t come across as false as it felt, maybe she was just overtired these days. Planning a wedding had been one thing, the travel another and then trying to wade through the growing fog between her ears left her a little more irritable than she dared to admit.
Shrill, it was just another night she might have to simply grit her teeth through the discomfort of simply living and accept that some things… and some people… were just a little more important.
They must have seemed like something out of a movie well passed it’s meagre budget- a hard boiled, relatively attractive redhead in an oversized hoodie with what looked like a resting bitch face that had voluntarily swallowed razor blades and a young, pale and borderline emaciated man with facial piercings and a demeanor more commonly seen in a 6 year old on ecstacy talking rather animatedly to a large stuffed teddy.
It surely couldn’t be scripted any better.
When they had arrived, Amber caught a glimpse of the waitress behind the counter making the sign- something that Amber had never felt so giddily in the place she was sure used to hold either a soul or caffeine reserves. Reseating herself at the table, whilst making very brief eye contact with a less than conspicuous man watching the proceedings from three booths down- like Despayre’s father, if research had done her true justice, Amber watched Despy and Angel fall silent… as though Angel had contributed much to the conversation to begin with.
Yeah, there was that judgemental teddy bear side eye again.
Moments passed as the ever fidgeting Despayre looked to Amber, back to Angel, waved at a random stranger who’d taken the wrong moment to glance up from a newspaper and then back to Amber with an almost concerned smile.
Amber barely restrained herself as Despayre, in a not so quiet whisper, leaned into Angel.
“Quick! Say something smooth! This is awkward!”Maintaining composure as much as one could in this situation, Amber cleared her throat slightly while trying to find something relevant to say.
“So… Blast from the past.”Yeah, well done Amber. Not clumsy at all.In truth, she wasn't really used to dealing with many people outside her rapidly shrinking social circle. Most of the time she relied on those around her, Mac especially found greater purchase in social interactions whereas Amber simply smiled and pretended like she didn’t hate it. It wasn’t as though she hated them per se- unless she did which was usually entirely valid- it was the fact that she’d spent so long deliberately disconnecting from people in hopes that maybe she’d simply fall off the face of the Earth. When that hadn’t happened, or when someone had found enough reason to drag her back from the edge of the void, she’d found it difficult to reconnect in a way that didn’t feel hollow or forced.
Smiles were feigned and interests dismissed the moment they didn’t resonate. Fact was, at least to Amber- she’d have rathered be alone if only cause she knew she could trust herself.
Except more recently, she couldn’t seem to do that either.
“So I’ve got two ice cream sundaes…”Amber flashed another smile, the kind she’d seen others use with ease all the time, as the glass sundae bowls chinked against the coated chipboard surface.
“... extra sprinkles. Coffee won’t be long.”Extra sprinkles was a damn understatement, Amber was almost sure there was more cheap, coloured sugar confetti than there was ice-cream. God, even the look of it made her want to throw her stomach out of the nearest window…
Subtly, not that Despayre noticed as he ferociously dived into his own, Amber shifted the glass bowl in front of Angel whom she was sure gave her the first semi-approving look since they’d first met. God, what the fuck was she thinking… it was a bear. It wasn’t like it was real.
Between mouthfuls, Amber was vaguely aware of Despayre trying to communicate back, a dribble of ice-cream falling from the corner of his lips as the waitress arrived back with coffee for the redhead. In spite of professional instinct, the waitress did little to hide her confusion about a full sundae sitting in front of an idle teddy bear while the young man shovelled ice cream like a six year old being rewarded for a good report card that absolutely wasn’t faked. Nonetheless, she left the mug of coffee along with cream and sugar that would be shoved aside the moment she turned away.
“Yeah. So… I mean do we have a strategy going into this? Still kinda wrapping my head around this whole ‘not intergender’ thing admittedly, I’m used to just throwing hands at whoever stood in the way. Man woman… or teddy bear I suppose.”A flash of panic crossed Despayre’s eyes as Amber followed up as quickly yet calmly as she could get the words out- almost as if she always intended on doing so.
“Not Angel of course. I doubt I’d last a minute…”Typical, Amber mused silently as she sipped away at coffee barely warm enough to still be satisfying. In a few minutes it’d be damn near undrinkable, and yet she’d down every drop if only to get through the night without finding herself in a psych ward or jail cell.
Without a word, and before she could even catch herself doing so, Amber had unfolded a poorly aligned napkin and reached across the table to catch the dribble of ice-cream that had now become a small stream at the corner of Despayre’s lips.
It was difficult to tell if Despayre was surprised or scared as Amber settled back into her seat, scrunching up the napkin half-heartedly and tossing it onto the table.
“Look, I get all of this is probably a goddamn nightmare. I won’t lie and pretend like my heart didn’t skip half a beat when I got paired with you- mostly for the fact that I didn’t really know what to expect. I just...
I know what Christina did, and if she didn’t already have an anvil of karma hanging over her head then I’d love to drop one on her just for that.
You probably still have no idea of anything about me- and that's fine. Maybe it's better than fine. I just want you to know, as weird as it probably is, I’m not like her. I’ve got your back whether we win or lose- if only for the fact that you didn’t immediately dismiss me cause of my reputation from the get go.”Another silence, although less awkward than the last. Amber was sure she caught Synn shifting in his seat as she spoke, however Despayre seemed a little less moved- after all, there was still a lot of ice cream there. Still, if nothing else it was nice not to be spoken down to or demeaned cause her reputation had poisoned the proverbial well…
Like a shot, Despayre’s head shot up
“Is that… Is that a Cher impersonator?!”Whether it was or not was irrelevant it seemed, as within seconds he had disappeared to the other side of the diner with an ungainly spring in his step and renewed ice-cream trail tracing down his chin- leaving Amber and Angel alone at the table.
Angel wasn’t
‘real’, yet something about it…
“Let's be blunt here, shall we?”Amber sighed as she lowered her voice, as though talking in the direction of a stuffed animal wasn’t conspicuous enough to begin with.
“You definitely don’t like me, and that's fair. I’ve probably earned that distinction. I mean you’re a fucking teddy bear so I’m honestly pretty indifferent but Despayre, well he seems to hold you in the highest regard and I guess that means I should too.”Amber raised an eyebrow as though expecting something back, though finding only dead air, a little bit of dust and the fast melting remains of an icecream sundae between them.
“You’re looking out for him, but in this tournament- so am I, hell- he might be the only person I’ve met in a long time that didn’t outright dismiss everything I’ve done or shit all over it for the sake of some hype. That means a lot, and maybe I’m just a body in that ring to him, a partner to get through a match or two… but I dunno, there's something about him, reminds me of someone I used to care about a lot.
Not that you care, you’re a goddamn teddy bear, you know?”Returning with less pep in his step, Despayre flopped back into his seat whilst looking wistfully into the last dregs pooling in his bowl.
“What’s wrong? Wasn’t it a Cher impersonator after all?”An almost mournful, disappointed sigh followed as Amber leaned in closer with a distant attempt at comfort.
“No… It was Cher.”If disappointment had a definable facial expression, you’d have been sure this was it. Leaning back into her own seat, Amber took a few moments to compute everything although strangely less than surprised at the turn of events. Sure enough, the coffee had gone cold enough that the bitterness clung to her tongue and that faintly acrid burnt taste became it's best attribute.
Perhaps sensing that there was nothing really left to achieve from the ‘meeting’ as such, Synn approached the table quietly- a sight which immediately perked up Despayre who practically scrambled to his feet. Leaving an assorted jumble of notes and coins on the table, Synn gave Amber a knowing nod as Despayre took Angel up into a tightly clutched hug.
“Thanks for the ice-cream Flamin’ Hot Cheetos chick!”How it was only then that Amber found Angel’s bowl to also be empty, not even so much that- but practically licked clean, was almost as confusing in itself as was the smear of ice-cream staining Angel’s fuzzy muzzle.
“Yeah, sure. Anytime… I think?”Maybe this was finally it.
Maybe she’d finally gone mad
Maybe she’d finally and verily lost it completely.
Bring on the white jacket and padded walls, she silently mused, as she too gingerly exited the confines of the booth- still nursing confusion and doubt in her eyes and an oddly serene smile across her caffeinated lips.
… Maybe, and most oddly, she realized she’d never been so
goddamn happy about it.
