The flag outside the Canadian embassy flutters in the light breeze in the Gombe Commune in Kinshasa. Standing in front of the building, Vixen slowly pushes the sunglasses covering her eyes upward to push back the two toned curls limply hanging on her shoulders. Looking around at the commune, Vixen takes a deep breath and moves into the reception area of the embassy.
“Hello, can we help you,” says the young woman behind what looks like safety glass.
Vixen moves closer and nods. “You certainly can, I am here to talk to Major Guertin,” she says with a smile.
“Major Guertin?” says the receptionist. “I don’t know this Major man.”
“Is there any Canada based staff here I could talk to?” asks Vixen. “They could tell me if he is here.” Holding her purse open, she begins to dig into it and then pulls out her telephone. “I could call someone,” she offers. “Can you show me the telephone listing for the embassy?”
“Oh no, we cannot tell you who works here. We don’t know you,” she says. “You show me your passport please.”
Vixen growls slightly as her eyes narrow. Placing her purse on the counter, she begins to paw through it and pulls out a small blue booklet that she holds up to the window. “Here you go, says I am Canadian and I’m a friendly,” Vixen replies back with soft sarcastic chuckle.
“Vixie, you gotta let em do their job,” says a voice from behind the woman making her turn on her heel quickly dropping her passport as she charges towards the speaker and jumps at him.
“GUERTIN!” Vixen exclaims as she wraps her arms around his neck and hugs him as he grunts from the impact. “Man you are getting soft,” adds Vixen as she pulls back.
Coughing as he tries to get his dignity back, Guertin holds up a hand. “You aren’t getting any softer it would seem,” he replies as he rubs at his stomach. “I heard that you and that company you are working for now are in town for the wrestling show coming up.”
“Yes we are and I am headlining it,” Vixen boasts as she tucks her fingers into the straps of her tank top under the light cotton blouse. “Defending my title no less and doing what I do best. It is going to be a hard fight I am sure,” she adds. “But that is for Sunday night. I am here to take my favourite friend for lunch.”
“Vixie I would like nothing better but the situation isn’t the best. If I had been able to talk to you before your company booked into the Stade,” he says as one of his hands wipes at the back of his neck where a trickle of sweat stands out damply. “There’s a GD travel advisory to the country little fox. Don’t you think you should be back home and wrestling in that sinbin that is Vegas?”
“Guertin, I have been in worse places, hell you were there with me remember. And between the two of us we kept ourselves safe. Trust me, I can handle it,” vows Vixen. “And with NXT here, I will keep Spike and the others safe as well.”
“IF you think that you can, more power to you. But Vixie, lunch might not be a good thing out in the market. Tell you what, come back to my SQ and I will make you something to eat,” offers Guertin before once again wiping at the sweat. “At least my housekeeper will.”
“Thank god, I thought you were threatening me with poisoning,” teases Vixen as she walks over to her bag and picks up her passport to tuck it inside. “Ok, let’s compromise, why don’t you come to the hotel and meet Spike and we get something there.”
“Done,” Guertin agrees as he nods to the receptionist. The pair exit the embassy and head towards the cars parked to the side of the guard hut. Guertin waves to one of the embassy drivers who holds open the door of a beat up embassy car. Giving her friend a look, Vixen climbs inside to be joined by the soldier. Closing the door, the driver walks around the vehicle and climbs inside. The car revs to life and pulls away from the curb and disappears into traffic.
“She really did that?” questions an amused Spike Staggs as Vixen blushes a brighter red from the comment. On one side, Spike leans forward and puts his elbows on the table, his hands steepled as his lip curls in amusement.
“Oh yeah, swore up and down that she could keep up. Little lady can’t hold her alcohol when the chips are down,” replies Guertin as he brings a bottle to his lips, the cold Red Castle beer slopping against his lips as he pulls a long swig from it. “We proved her wrong and the resulting strip poker game will go down in history as the worst ever trouncing the rest of us ever had. No one told us she was a cardshark.”
“What can I say, my upbringing made me,” she teases. “I learned all my bad habits before getting in the army. Now I just keep them up for fun.”
“From what I hear, that isn’t the only thing you are keeping up,” adds Guertin with a wink. “So Spike, you worried about the half of the population that basically probably see your girl here with lust in their hearts?” demands the soldier, leaning forward himself. “Was a time that I might have tapped that ass myself.”
“Guertin! You are going to die for saying that. Spike has nothing to worry about when it comes to me. And only way you tapped this ass was when you were dreaming,” snarls Vixen, the redness of her cheeks now flaring with anger, not blushes of embarrassment.
Before Vixen could lunge over the table at her friend, Spike takes her hand that is clenched on the table and opening it, plants a soft kiss on the palm before smiling at Guertin. “I trust MY girl with my life,” he states, a slight menace on the emphasis of ‘my’. Guertin recognizes the warning and nods with a smile as he leans back.
“That’s what I wanted to hear,” says the soldier. “Vixie here is special and only a special man deserves her. Looks like you are him.”
“Glad to hear,” replies Spike.
Before anything further can be said, Connor and Devlin rush into the restaurant, glancing around frantically looking for Spike and Vixen. Spying them, the pair amble over or try to look like they have no worries but suddenly broke and rushed the table.
“Vixen, you have ta see what your opponent’s mouthpiece had to say. Friend of ours sent it to us,” says Connor, the lilt in his voice emphasized by his excitement.
Devlin pulls out his IPad mini and calls up the complimentary wifi of the hotel and presses play on the video in the email he opened. Avidly the group watches as Cyrus does his commentary. When it finishes, Connor looks at Vixen with a raised eyebrow. “Well?” he demands.
“Hate to dine and dash Guertin but I have some work to do with Vixen here,” says Spike as he slides out of the seat and stands beside Vixen.
She also gets to her feet with a smile. “Come to the Stade on Sunday Guertin and I’ll have them leave you a ticket. It will give you the chance to see just how much I have improved since you last saw me.”
Turning distractedly, Vixen gives him a quick peck on the cheek before joining her fingers with Spike’s and heading towards the doors of the restaurant. Guertin watches them go, his head shaking slightly as he takes another pull from the beer bottle.
“Are you ready for this my love?” asks Spike as the pair are being prepared by camera crew for their promo time that Spike had arranged after seeing the video provided by Cyrus that talked about the main event of Climax Control.
“Ok Spike, ready to film in three…two..” says the cameraman who then silently counts one then points at the pair.
Spike offers his usual cocky smile at the camera. “Oh how the mighty have fallen,” he begins only to have Vixen softly place her hand over his mouth.
“Spike, let me do this,” she whispers before turning to the camera, shaking her head sadly. “Cyrus, I don’t know you nor do I care to. You aren’t even a blip on my radar and haven’t been since you entered Sin City Wrestling with an agenda of some kind. But what gets me is how you came in and since you could not win on your own, you attached yourself to Roxi like a leech wanting to draw everything that made Roxi the person that deserved respect out of her and left her a broken woman. And Roxi, I don’t know what to say to you that would even register.”
Spike watches her as Vixen gets out of her seat and begins to pace slightly, one hand at her lips as she tries to collect her thoughts. “I get it Cyrus I really do. And I guess Roxi is just a victim of the Stockholm syndrome. You have turned her from a vibrant Bombshell that could and did for a time carry the Bombshell division when no one else could into nothing but a shell.”
Emotion chokes Vixen for a moment and it makes her nibble on her fingernail as if wondering what to say. “Roxi, do you even realize what this man is doing to you? What happened to you?”
Spike holds out his hand for Vixen who moves back to his side and takes the comfort he is offering, leaning against the arm of the chair where he is sitting.
“I hear him talking and it sickens me to realize the Bombshell I respected is no more. He makes your slide into his puppet his soapbox where he can claim his fifteen minutes of fame by using you. He can’t do anything on his own so he is using someone that everyone respected to make him seem to be the main event. Cyrus, how does it feel to know that the only thing your dominance of Roxi has done is make her nothing but someone to be pitied and scorned.”
“That’s harsh Vix,” offers Spike only to have him surprised by Vixen’s sudden turn towards him.
“IT’S THE TRUTH!” snarls Vixen. “You saw just what he said in that video. You saw her like some kind of lapdog that is forced to the dogfight and prodded with violence to perform. He makes her a sideshow but claims that she is the hot topic. The only reason people are talking Spike is because he is…”
Spike rises to his feet and pulls Vixen towards him, hugging her as emotion finally chokes her up. Shaking her head, she pulls away and then once again faces the camera. “Roxi, I don’t care about the title in our match or the fact that it is up for grabs. I don’t care about the fact that you are the hot button topic in the federation. All I care about is making you realize that you are better than Cyrus. You are letting him hurt and humiliate you and for what? What can he do for you that you haven’t done for yourself in the past.”
Vixen smiles as she continues, “Was he there when you won the title? No he wasn’t, it was you that did that. Was he there when you faced the best in Sin city and beat them night after night? No he wasn’t. Now you let him be your mouthpiece when you have the ability to speak for yourself. Don’t tell me that you enjoy being a puppet...You, who were a hero to everyone, even me. So what if I have done things she hasn’t like beat Gothika or won every bombshell title in the federation. The only thing that Roxi has done in the past few weeks has been to disappear. I don’t know who you are Roxi but you aren’t the Bombshell I thought you were.”
Spike puts an arm around the shoulders of Vixen as she motions the camera closer. “So you want to come to Climax Control and take my title. All because your ‘MASTER’ says you are his and you will beat me for my title. Let me remind you of one little thing Roxi. I am my own mistress and that means I call my shots and I control ME. So when push comes to shove, I won’t hesitate to push aside my pity for you when I beat you in that match. Or will your darling MASTER help you get over the big obstacle that is my drive to remain the Bombshell champion?”
Vixen stops and takes a long slow breath. Releasing it slowly, Vixen closes her eyes as she gathers her last thoughts.
“Roxi, on Sunday we will step into the main event and the title will be on the line,” begins Vixen. “But when the end of the match happens and you are lying there in the dust of the Stade, I want you to think long and hard about Cyrus King and the nothing he has made of you. Sadly, you DID have my respect but not anymore. And that is the saddest part of it all. Maybe you might win the Bombshell title but all you will do to the title is tarnish it with your pathetic dependence on Cyrus King.”
With that, Vixen turns violently and stomps away from the camera muttering to herself as she goes. Spike waits only a moment before he follows her sending the scene to black.
