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Roleplay Boards => Archived Roleplays => Supercard Archives => Topic started by: Mark Ward on January 09, 2022, 03:38:16 AM

Title: World Bombshell Championship: Amber Ryan (c) v Johanna Krieger
Post by: Mark Ward on January 09, 2022, 03:38:16 AM
Post all roleplays for this match in this thread.
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Title: Re: World Bombshell Championship: Amber Ryan (c) v Johanna Krieger
Post by: Dreamkiller on January 09, 2022, 11:16:58 PM
Momento Mori

How did we get here?

That is a very complicated question. I suppose, we’d have to go back to the beginning.

Silence

Of all the things to fear in this life, there is one above all else, much more horrifying than your conventional phobias. And that is the loss of fear itself, and the ability to simply feel  Living through a circumstance or chain of events and finding no catharsis or no meaning in anything or any place that you are in.

Now that, is something to fear

A person with no fear, well, that is just ignorance. Everyone is afraid of something. Every single person on this planet should have a calling. And most people do, they just don’t know how to listen. It takes a certain type of event to spark something. A pursuit of progress, a goal, a purpose.

Is my only purpose to conduct violence, as a means of provoking suffering?

The answer to these questions began to elude me.My abilities to feel are fading. They needed to be re-engaged. And distance was necessary to find perspective. And it works in all facets of life. But the greater questions became distance from where? From whom? To What? This was not a journey to destinations. This was a journey introspectively. To feel, to know, to find.

The answers certainly reinforced philosophies, always showing new weapons.

But your mind is the greatest weapon of all.

Then they say the mind needs peace.. And with the mind, the body follows. But, what does a woman do, when peace isn’t an option? When it’s not in her nature?

Now you’re beginning to understand the dilemma. I never lived in the same world as everybody else. Never did, never could. When a womans mind can find no peace, that woman will surely go mad in due time. And I have to tell you…

…I’m not very comfortable with that notion.

Because I personally feel I have a very good grasp on reality. But I’m trying, I’m trying real hard to find it.

Peace

Just for those emergency situations. But then again, I am what I am. And a  woman who wishes for inner peace, who is incapable or unwilling to fight for it, is a woman undeserving to find what she seeks. This is the plight of the human race, our great paradox. And how very tragic, every so often, we exceed our own step walking, over a line that no one should ever cross….

Some women, they just don’t come back. Not because they can’t. But because deep down, they don’t really want to….

Part One: Violence-

Have you ever been so angry that it makes you uncomfortable?

Not the regular angry, where you can let it out and people may agree that you have a right to be angry. But that irrational anger. That anger where you feel it boiling through your entire being. It courses through your veins turning your blood to lava. It makes your head ache and your joints and muscles feel stiff as ever step you take feels like a barrier of rage.That is the type of anger she felt.

And anger was not an unfamiliar feeling, an emotion that was almost always present in the heart and mind of Johanna Krieger.

But this anger was one she felt deep down in the pit of her soul, her stomach, her very being. Everything made it worse, everything and everyone she looked at, talked to, stood near. Every word, every moment. Every breath. She tried to go about her life, her day to day routine. Wake up, go for a run, work hard. Go to the gym. But she could feel herself slipping., She could feel it rising and she was losing control.

Her arms folded over her chest as she scanned the room. Her jaw clenched as her bright blue eyes that had faded to a dull grey centered on Bella Madison. A woman who a few weeks ago she had felt bad for. A woman who she supported and helped. But now, well now all she felt was anger and pity. Frustration that Bella had failed. And now here she was, preparing for her next match with a nobody. From challenging for a world title, having a chance to shock the world to having a match with a wet behind the ears rookie that Johanna had destroyed.

Oh the mighty fallen and squandered chances.

It wasn’t true, but its how Johanna felt in this moment. Sick to her stomach looking at her fellow member of Wolfslair. Steel was supposed to sharpen steel. But right now, Johanna felt she was being sharpened against a feather pillow. And she couldn’t hide it. Her stare heating up as her lip sneered. Bella looking away as Johanna heard a voice.

Kallie.

Kalisto Keznik was one of the only people who could get passed Johannas hardened exterior and see something resembling the woman Johanna once was before the world beat her down. She laughed, she smiled, she was being her regular self. And normally this would be a comfort to Johanna. But not today. Not right now. She swallowed, her anger turning inward as she hated the fact she was finding her best friend, someone she thought of as a baby sister, annoying. Her hands, hidden under her arms clenched as hard as her jaw, her knuckles and joints popping as she stiffened her back. She needed to do something…anything.

”Hey…come on…let’s get you ready…” The southern drawl of Alicia Lukas snapped Jo out of it. The former world champion paced back and forth on the grappling mats. Alicia has come back from the christmas break refocused and rejuvenated. But insulted that she was being forced to face Candy of all people. But that wasn’t Johanna's story to tell. She swallowed hard and stepped onto the mats, the two women staring at each other as the rest oif the gym seemed to quiet down and watch.

Johanna tilted her head and gave a small nod. It was on. Johanna slid on one knee, grabbing Alicia by the legs, but Johanna was angry, wreckless. She was trying to use her anger and her brute strength. Alicia turned her hips, pushing her knee under Johannas stomach and threw her own leg up flipping Johanna over her and scrambling to her feet. Johanna growled and charged in again, sliding in lower, Alicia pushed her hips forward, catching Johanna as she came in and dropped down sprawling across her back, Alicia then hooked her arm around Johanna and slid over her back hooking her legs around Johannas hips.

They flipped to the side, Alicia put her arm under Johannas neck and her other arm over her head moving for a choke. Johanna tilted her head putting her chin against her own shoulder to block it. ”Nice Jo, but you’re still better than this…” Her heart beat faster, she felt the anger rise up in her chest from her stomach. Johanna turned and got out of it, her body moving to be parallel with Alicias. But Alicia stayed calm, a smile came on her face.

And it was over.

Before Johanna knew it Alicia had grabbed Johanna by the arm, pulling it behind her own back and yanking it upward. Johanna growled in pain, she refused to give up. But, Alicia knew. She let go of the hold and moved her hips sliding from under Johanna to get to her feet.

It was only a moment but time seemed to slow down. Alicia was up, Johanna was on all fours as it played through her head. And that damn smile. Her hands pressed against the grappling mats and it all came back. Johannas failures, her losses, Bellas loss, the fact she was being thrown at Amber and no one was giving her a chance in hell. Her father, her past, the betrayals. All of it rose up in her stomach.

Before Johanna could stop herself she was on her feet, and a right hand was thrown. It connected with Alicia flush on the jaw, hitting the right spot as Johanna threw it like a MLB pitcher would throw a fast ball. Alicia took it, Johannas fist cracking against her jaw as that sound of bone and skin hitting bone and skin echoed through the gym, Alicia dropped to the mats. The gym was silent. Johanna knew what she had done as the red that blinded her started to fade and slip away. She wasn’t blind with anger now. But it was still there. Her chest heaved, her breathing laboured and she could feel everyone's eyes on her.

Bella, Sierra, Aiden, Austin, Lachlan, Miles. They all looked on, shocked. Their jaws on the floor. Kallie however had a different reaction. She looked sad….

Jo looked away, her hand trembling as Sonya came out to tend to Alicia. Everyone went muted. Every sound, ever motion. It all felt like Johanna was surrounded by quicksand and was feeling resistance. It hurt, the anger. It had progressed to a point where she felt physical pain. It surged through her body, through her veins, her heart, her mind. All she felt was a blinding anger that was causing her entire body to burn and twist from the inside out. She clenched her jaw again and felt tears well up in her eyes.

Tears

”I didn’t-”

She lost her voice, her way of communicating, her head turning as Alex looked over at her, a look of concern and disappointment on his face. Jo swallowed hard, and before she could try and say anything Alex just shook his head, his eyes turning and looking toward the door. ”Just go…take a break…..we’ll talk later…but now you can’t be here….” Johanna swallowed again, moving forward toward Alicia, she was still angry but she wanted to help. Alex snapped and shook his head. ”NO!...just go Jo…”

The walls were closing in, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think. She couldn’t talk. She slowly backed up toward the wall as the entire gym, her friends, her family stood and stared, judging, whispering. Her hand moved down gripping her backpack as she moved toward the door. As she hit the outside, the cold air smacked her in the face, she felt the tears, she got to the corner before stopping, her hands finding her knees as she felt it all come out, but it wasn’t sadness, it was still anger. It was that blinding rage that was still causing pain.

And she just wanted it to be over.

Then, it broke. It all faded away. The anger, the frustration. The pain. It was all gone. But….all of it was.

Every feeling.

She was now numb. Void. Empty. And maybe this is how it was always meant to be…

Si vis pacem, para bellum






The Ideology of Mayhem

[color=yellow}”Well now, look at the situation we’ve found ourselves in…”[/color]

Johanna steps forward, her hands wrapping around the top of an old wooden chair. Her fingers move and interlace across the back and slide in between the wooden dowels and ornamental back. She steps forward, moving around and sitting down before leaning forward. Her arms resting against her knees as she smiles, an unnerving smile showing her teeth, baring them in a threatening manner.

”You’re a disappointment. You know that right? You’ve lost who you are, what you were about. You have forsaken it all in an effort to be accepted. In an effort to be looked at as “one of them” And why? You’re not one of them, you’ve never been. You have always been different and in an effort to be accepted and successful you changed what made you special. And the worst part, it worked. Look at you now. Look at the opportunities that have been handed to you. A shot at greatness. A shot at something everyone craves and wants. And not because you were dominant, not because you were the best but simply because you were a face in the crowd.”

“A new face that had never been challenged before. You got rewarded for mediocrity. Congratulations.”

She takes a deep breath in, relaxing her upper body as she stares to the side, tilting her head as if trying to understand something. Trying to come to terms with it. Then, she laughs. Shaking her head and sitting back in a more relaxed pose.

”I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh. I just, I’ve never seen you look this pathetic before. And we have been through alot together. Haven’t we? But being picked out for simply being there is one of the worst things to happen and I can’t say I like to see it. Because I don’t. And when you turned your back non me, well…I had alot of time to think…while you were out pretending…”

Her eyes narrow, her legs sit wide as she leans her arm over the back of the chair, nodding slowly as her eyes widen again and as wry smile comes across her lips. Her black painted lips.

”I think this….laughing is like a self defence mechanism. A way for you to come to terms with failures and my own disappointment and apathy. The smile, the attitude, the “just happy to be here” pageantry. Despite the venom that you occasionally spit when you let me poke through a window. But, I will say that you know I love the pageantry. The theatrics. But the difference is that I’m…a little more myself about it. And I’m not criticizing. I get it, I understand. Even in spite of the whole thing you found some form of success, just not what was expected. Not that was needed….”

“And believe it or not, I didn’t come here to fight. I didn’t come here to say “I told you so” I came here to help you. Because…you really need it.”

“You need the focus, you need the anger and you need to remember what you have always been capable of in the face of adversity and the pain you are able to cause and manipulate. And I feel like maybe we need to approach the subject of closure. Something that most people never get. The idea of closure, the idea of putting a story to bed and an end to a moment in time and moving on.”

“You need to move on….it’s the best thing for all of us. For you, for your career. And for the people you have let yourself care about and trust me…you can’t hide the fact you care about them…and if you want that feeling to return and the promises you made to be lept then you need to do what comes naturally and just be the fucking catalyst for pain and siffering you know you can be….”

“So, while you think about that. While you let it play out…I have things I need to take care of…things more important than this little…parlay…”

She leans forward and laughs again, shaking her head before pushing up to her feet and moving around the chair.

”Amber Ryan. Just the name evokes a reaction. The name of a champion. Actually, let me rephrase to give you the proper respect. Not a champion, no. THE champion. You have become a name that is held in high esteem and regard along with Mikah and Alicia Lukas. You and them are what I would like to call, the champion collective. Three women who have done so much for the bombshells championship and the division as well as the company that you will forever be known as the best. No one can take that away from you, and why should they? Why would they even try? Why would people attack you on social media or try and belittle what you’ve done and accomplished?”

“Hell Amber, you have cleaned out the division to the point where you are now looking outside the sphere of the Sin city wrestling main event scene to find your next opponent. Which has settled on me. But, how did I get here? How did I end up stepping up aside from simply being there and meeting you backstage? You see I have never been one to try and take what is unearned. I have never been one like Jessie Salco, or Ruby Steele. I have never been the type to stomp my feet and ask for title opportunities. I have always wanted to earn them and this…well this feels…unearned…”

“It feels…..random…”

“It feels like chaos, mayhem. And I like that aspect of it. Don’t misconstrued this, I will be taking the opportunity with both hands. And while I have been successful in SCW, and don’t think I am disregarding my own accomplishments. I know I am going into this match as the underdog. Which is strange to me. See, most matches I go in as an even odds type of gal or a favorite. It’s just the nature of who I am really. Everyone can admit, win or lose, against me they know they have been in a fight. But against you…everyone is the underdog. You’re a fucking dynasty Amber…”

She pauses, looking over in the direction of the last conversation she had. Letting out a deep sigh, a disappointed, almost forlorn look in her eye.

”I got here and destroyed Chloe Benton on the way and so many of you jumped on me for it. You being the most vocal. And why? Because I beat the hell out of her? Because I treated her the same way I will treat you? Cause, that’s funny. I was being chastised for showing her the same respect I will show you. The respect of not backing down and giving you my best. And you? You turned back the challenge of someone I train with. And trust me when I say this, my feelings on the Bella situation are…complicated.”

“To say the least”

“But yuou gave Bella everything, you made damn sure at the end of that match she knew just who the fuck she was messing with. And that is all I ask of you. Ms Ryan. Mrs Bane. Whatever people wish to call you. That is all I have ever asked from anyone. No matter what I’m doing. Whether that is being in the mixed tag team division, or the Roulette. All I have ever wanted is the respect of people to come at me with everything they have. To not back down. To not give me any type of opening.”

“And against you? Well. I can see that is what I’ll be getting. I’m that new blood you wanted so desperately to face but, my goal, my ultimate goal. Isn’t just about shocking the world and becoming the champion, it’s also about showing you that you made the wrong choice. With everyone else back there who you could have faced you and SCW chose me. You allowed me to have this championship match at Inception. And every single other woman back their, with thewir fragile fucking egos refuse to admit the simple truth.”

Johanna pauses and smiles, shaking her head as she pushes out a deep sigh, her shoulders relax as she puts her hand in her front pockets.

”You are as good as you say you are. And that is so rare of so many people. Everyone has weaknesses but yours are hard to find, hard to see. And I have watched women I respect and admire, women that I know are talented and touch throw themselves at you in some vain attempt to beat you and “expose” you. Hell, you’ve even started getting comments from those who have started calling your title reign astale. Thinking that somehow that will make it easier to beat you or to get your attention. But that, well Amber, that is just jealousy. And people should be jealous of you.”

“I am…and I admit it. You’re the champion, you have the eyes of the wrestling world on you and with you comes a certain amount of legitimacy that very few people can match. However all of this, every single moment and part of it cycles back around to one simple moment in time. One simple explanation.”

“I will give you everything I have and I will take time off your career.”

“You have faced amazing wrestlers and fighters. You have beaten some handedly, you have gone to war with others and shown the world what you can do and how tough you are. No one can deny it, no one can take it away. But with me you will get a war. You will get someone willing to go to great violent lengths to beat you that very few others will. And that is my lot in life, my great skill. I know ways to hurt people and I know ways to make sure those who face me hate life and hate what they will have to go through. At Inception, you will be celebrated as a champion, and rightly so. But I will do all OI can to take that title from you, to shock the world and the system and give everyone the new champion they so badly want….”

“But, not for them, not because I think they’re right or I want to discredit you as a competitor or champion. Not to0 add to the gym or the stables joint accomplishments. Not even to avenge Bella and Alicia…. No sweet Amber no. I want to take that championship for one reason…”

She turns, revealing behind her, the direction she was talking earlier. To reveal…no one…Johanna is alone…

“For me…”
Title: ... The Subtle Art Of No Longer Giving A Fuck ...
Post by: DistortedAngel on January 14, 2022, 01:02:00 AM
“Pain is strange. A cat killing a bird, a car accident, a fire.... Pain arrives, BANG, and there it is, it sits on you. It's real. And to anybody watching, you look foolish. Like you've suddenly become an idiot. There's no cure for it unless you know somebody who understands how you feel, and knows how to help.”
― Charles Bukowski





Undisclosed Warehouse
Somewhere In New York
20.12.2009
9:04pm



Winter in New York never quite looked like the movies.

Far from the crystalline, glistening snow laden trees masterfully decorated and lit up the point that the night sky above cowered in shame of its overwhelming brilliance, Amber kicked a chuck of murky brown ‘snow’ off the pavement and into the gutter where the frigid slush seemed to carry it out of sight.
Where she was tonight- there were no shop windows embellished with seasonal regalia, the towering displays of seasonality back where the tourists might gasp and awe at their magnificence. Nevermind the waste and ruin that might be left behind once the lights shuddered out and the finery was shuffled back into a warehouse just like one of these till Thanksgiving fell into the rearview once more.

Places like this didn’t celebrate frivolities, they celebrated survival. They celebrated the ability to outlast the gentrification that seemed to run unchecked, the underlying toxicity of places that didn’t want to change. Industry had tainted this place and abandoned much of it in favour of the bigger and bolder, the remnants of what was reflected in every broken window.
Pulling the edges of her jacket in tighter, as though it did little more than draw the ire of the breeze that nipped at the edges of exposed skin, it didn’t take long to figure which one of these building Alistair McCrae had set up temporary shop in- which one had been touched by a higher power, if only in his own head.

It was the only one with the lights on.

Smarter women would never have come here. Braver women wouldn’t have cared, charging in with demands on why they were being ‘summoned’. Prettier women would have done themselves up for the occasion in hopes that their physical attributes and an eyelash flutter might go away towards world peace.
Amber wasn’t really much of any of those- or she’d been continually told. Too much nothing, not enough of anything else. 21 years old with a big gold target, ten foot tall and emotionally too immature to be bulletproof.

Ducking through a fence topped with barbed wire always gave her a certain untold amusement, as though somehow skirting an unseen system. Restricted and out of bounds, like she didn’t belong- mostly for the fact she didn’t. No one saw though, and fewer people would’ve cared. Footsteps in grimy snow betrayed presences long given away by lights, the voices beyond the door muted behind brick and metal yet still reverberated in her soul.
That's what should have driven her away… instead, stubborn and prideful to a fault, it's the same thing that forced her through the door.

“I was worried, Miss Ryan…”

Cavernous spaces always reminded Amber of churches, although given the way the pious spoke of sacrifice and charity- she expected far more of them to resemble places like this instead of the resplendent castles they worshipped. Open concrete dampened in places where the weather seeped through, those dark patches sucking in what little light they might from the faulty fluorescent tubes dangling from wires overhead.

“For a moment there I thought you might not show. I’m glad to admit now that I was mistaken, considering you’ve only ever lived up to expectations to date.”

Alistair McCrae wasn’t a physically intimidating man, though even in his simple clergyman basics he still commanded a room. Being flanked by three others far more… stereotypically… masculine figures though, that gave Amber a certain pause for thought until the last figure turned to catch her gaze.
Swarthy. Dark hair and a smile that used to make the butterflies dance instead of writhe as they seemed to now…

“You didn’t tell me we were coming here to dump our garbage, McCrae. If I’d have known, I’d have brought a shovel…”

Dominic Del Gado frowned disappointedly as her stare moved from his, she wasn’t going to test fate knowing the way his abrasive charm had kept her at his beck and call for far too long. She’d sworn she was done with his shit… McCrae had gone a good way towards making that happen, so why reunite?

“Seeing you both before me, such young and virulent children of the Lord- it brings forth a verse that I think you’ll both find poignant…”

Amber kept her distance, beyond reach of Dominic. Within sightline of McCrae- although he closed the distance and laid a firm hand on her leather clad shoulder as he preached resonantly.

“Let no one deceive you with empty words, for because of these things the wrath of God comes upon the sons of disobedience… Ephesians 5:6.”

McCrae’s hand clamped a little harder as he gave Amber an sad smile, the kind a parent might before telling them they weren’t mad, just…

“I’m disappointed, Miss Ryan. I thought you and I had an understanding… and appreciation that while the Lord might be forgiving, he might be understanding… he is also vengeful and unwilling to accept that his children might become traitorous to his wills.”

Tapping her gently on the shoulder, almost patronisingly, Alistair shook his head sadly and stepped back from the redhead, her confused glances less subtle than she intended as Dominic shrugged nervously at the corner of her periphery. Mournfully yet matter of factly, his tone carried as though pronouncing the eulogy for a long lost friend- enunciating to a crowd when less than a handful hung upon his words.

“I gave you every opportunity Miss Ryan, you showed me something I thought I could invest in. That I could trust. That is what successful partnerships are built on- an ability to share honesty, respect and a common decency that our word is truly our bond.
I hope perhaps one day, you might find yourself happily married so that those words along with the idea of eternal partnership take on a new meaning… Perhaps I’ve been overly brash, expecting too much from an otherwise blossoming young mind. Perhaps it is my fault in some way that we find ourselves at an impasse…”

Clicking his tongue, Alistair buried his hands into unseen pockets at his side. Still the expression bordered on parental disappointment underlined with pretentious religious arrogance. Those otherwise nameless figures stepped forward as Alistair seemed to melt between them, a short wall of humanity that spanned the space between Amber and Dominic.

“Consequence has its place, even in the Lord’s heart. Regardless of whom or what you might think you are… Consider this a lesson, children. Disobedience is a sin, after all and such transgressions cannot go unpunished.”

Everyone seemed to move all at once, the slow motion capture of a movie as every sense heightened at the expense of lateral movement and rational thought. A small snick of metal releasing from a mechanism echoed as footfalls thundered on the cement floor, no one said much of anything as bodies seemed to writhe and contort in an effort to be the first to make a connection.
Amber could only silently muse as Dominic’s hand firmly gripped her wrist, violently yanking her towards where he had previously stood while stepping back as she fought to find her balance. A little redhead meat shield in the face of an impending wall of musculature and godly intention- she couldn’t even breathe a word of protest before Dominic’s hand left her wrist and nestled in the centre of her back.

A gentle shove into oncoming oblivion.

Hands grasped and pushed as Amber found herself briefly albeit forcefully jostled aside, Dominic’s expensively bound footsteps pattering wildly back towards the door as Amber’s frame seemed to thunder into the concrete amidst a stampede of feet and frustrated murmurs about cowardly rats and judgement being served. Everything seemed over in less than a second- shooting pain remembering what flesh and bone against concrete was supposed to feel like now racing through every available synapse in a sensory overload that left her shockingly, blissfully numb.

Even McCrae seemed to have dissipated among the scuffle, his waning interest perhaps sated enough with sermonizing or the further disappointment of his prevailing justice not being fulfilled that he’d taken a silent leave. Amber groped around the floor for a moment, in hopes she might find where she left her bearings in all of this- shock settling in as the haze of disorientation took hold of her senses.
Searing pains radiated from places she couldn’t pinpoint- the inside edge of a forearm maybe, somewhere just below the ribs just above where the edge of her hip started to curve…

… why was the ground wet?

Dark. Viscose, the way it seemed to cling to her skin… trailing down the inside of her arm… pooling at the front of her…

Oh…

Oh shit.

Scrambling with as much coordination as her form might have allowed her, Amber rolled onto her back prodding through the thickly dampened edge of her torso where the beginning curve of her hip seemed to jut out, where the fabric of her t-shirt parted unexpectedly… and the soft flesh beneath it.

Oh shit indeed.

Amber swore at Dominic’s name between panicked breaths.

… She was supposed to be defending her title in two days.



******




“I remember once, as a young girl… I got a nosebleed.

That in itself Johanna, isn’t the most interesting thing. Probably not even the most exciting thing you’ll hear within the hour. It's not revolutionary or groundbreaking, but sometimes it's easy for people like us to forget that not everything has to be.
Sometimes a nosebleed is just exactly that…

Was it because I got into a fight or did I, in infinite child like wisdom, go and do something stupid like I’m so prone to bringing upon myself. Of course, it has to be something I did, right?
That's just how the universe works- cause and effect. Rhyme and reason can’t occur without reason and rhyme, Newton's third law dictating that every action causes an equal and opposite reaction…

Really though?

I was just a young girl in a pretty new summer dress.

That’s it. There was no rhyme, no reason in sight cause sometimes shitty fucking things happen to people simply for the fact that they exist. Cause we subconsciously keep breathing and blinking, the universe takes it upon itself to take a steaming shit in our laps and expect us to appreciate it cause we’re still alive and that's worth celebrating.
Shitty things happen because we keep living, we keep breathing and speaking through our asshoels like consequences don’t occur until we incur them. It's never anyone's fault- it just happens

Really though… we look to blame. We put it down to coincidence and bad luck, trying to justify an unjust world around us.

Shitty things happen to good people every fucking day, except most of those good people are never nearly as good as they make themselves out to be. You though Johanna, you absolutely pride yourself on being the shitty thing that happens to good people. You take honor and privilege in acting as an unspoken consequence in this industry- cause everyones elses dreams have to be shattered and stomped into dust cause yours have drifted just a little further beyond your reach.
You’ve taken it upon yourself to be justice and judgement around here- making statements at the expense of anyone thrown into your path just to satiate the blood lust so that no more crew members mysteriously vanish in blood sacrifice circles.

You and I, Johanna, we aren't good people. We’re the terrible things… We’re the monsters calling the shots cause everyone keeps forgetting to bring their silver bullets on the night of a full moon. We walk around here like there isn’t a middle ground - but heres the difference between us and the one I have no doubt you’ll tell me I’m wrong for despite the fact I’m the bitch carrying the fucking belt.

Not everyone is a victim. Not everyone is prey cause you’re having a bad day. You keep going out there grinding rookies into the dirt like they don’t belong cause they didn’t come up bleeding for every dollar they earned, like they aren’t the same reason that this industry keeps getting better and that we are precisely where we are now.
You take them, threaten to tear their fingernails off, kick them in the ass and expect to be thanked for the opportunity… at least I pick them up and dust them off a little after I’ve put my boot through their face.

It's hard not to see the similarities - I might be a monster, I might be a manifestation of everything people think is wrong with this industry. Too much of something, not enough of anything worth having. I’m a lot of things and most aren’t flattering- but I’m not an asshole for the sake of being an asshole. I don’t springboard off others' backs just to land back in the same puddle of mediocrity and I have treated every opponent the same despite the threat I might believe they pose.
You, Johanna darling, you treat everyone like scum then wonder why they’ll smile so wide when I beat you. You walk around looking at everyone who isn’t Wolfslair like they’re afterbirth splattered on your shoe, when you’ve barely earned the right to do more than show up and glare in catering.

I don’t need to rattle off everything I’ve done, I trust you’ll do enough of that for me.

My reputation precedes any cheap insult and every small-minded observation you’re claiming is groundbreaking, kinda like the shovel it sounds like you got hit with one too many times based on the originality of what you’ve got to spew.
Everything I’ve done to build this division- the Agent of Mayhem, the German Wrecking Machine comes knocking to tear it down brick by bloody brick cause really… What else have you really got going for you? Mindless destruction anywhere else might make you a badass, around here though? It just makes you fucking ungrateful for the roof I’ve maintained over your head.

They’ve called this ‘new blood rising’ and that's precisely what you’re coming for, gotta make sure I’m dead and gone by throwing my head at the feet of the hierarchy. Of course, if it were ever that easy, it would never have gotten around to you having your shot…
By all means though, tell the world it's my blood that's getting spilled and that I haven’t faced anyone like you cause really- I haven’t… not honestly. Have you started to consider why that might be?
Maybe, although the truth is always far harder to swallow than a chunk of your own tongue I suppose… I haven’t faced anyone like you, cause I’ve always been the predator. I’m the one tearing out throats and leaving you to scrounge my carcasses like a hyena following a lionesses trail of destruction.

I haven’t faced anyone like you, cause I’ve always been you… except better.

Not that it needs saying, not that there isn’t enough proof to quantify that you’re the dime store angel of death trying to carve a niche when I’ve already taken a pound of flesh. New blood rising isn’t about death to the old, it's not about triumph for the new- it's about a clash between unstoppable and immovable and the cost of the clean up efforts when it's all over.
By all means Johanna, I welcome you to come and spill my blood… go out there and remind everyone that I still bleed just as red as any Bombshell that graces this roster just be prepared to do the same, to leave the very best you have as a sacrifice at my altar. I beg and plead for you to do as you promise instead of threatening me with the good time I’ve been promised by so many…

After all, 300 days is a long time to accrue bodies, Johanna, and it's a long time to sit upon a throne of dreams and decay.

I’ve earned every single minute I’ve stood atop that mountain- so by all means you keep baying at the moon until it pays attention to your cries for something better, you keep trying to convince the world that you aren’t smacking around pretty girls cause you realize you dug yourself into an unavoidable ‘triggered sociopath’ niche that's grown a little too comfortable to step out from. Keep telling everyone that Johanna Krieger really is still an ‘agent of chaos’ instead of a middling bull searching for red flags and china shops if only so you feel important for a little while.

See, Inception isn’t about changing the SCW bubble. It's not about finding method in madness or righting what you might deem to be the greatest wrong- the fact that I still have a stupid smile on my face, a head on my neck and a World title on my shoulder.
No, it's about taking all that ‘new blood’ that's bubbling under the surface and proving that putting mentos into your veins isn’t a long term solution to what might ail this division. Let's be honest, you aren’t the solution… hell, you aren’t even the problem.

You’re another terrible thing trying to masquerade as a ‘good person’, a nosebleed on a girl's summer dress. A happening that perhaps cannot be explained away, but doesn’t pose a question that needs to be answered either.
Like a nosebleed- you aren’t exciting, you barely qualify as interesting and there's nothing that you’ve achieved that I’d consider more groundbreaking than the fact you’re still actively employed.

I don’t need to justify my existence, I don’t need to explain the reason that I'm still the Bombshells World Champion and why I’ll continue to be as long as my body holds enough breath to last a three count. You’ve seen it, you’ve watched it on tapes and yet I’m still a fucking riddle that has you absolutely stumped.
Of course you’ll tell me you have me all figured out- I mean, everyone else did and look just how far it got them… You’re different though, cause you have to be.
I don’t need to be figured out, I don’t need rhyme or reason to continue to be the most dominant World Bombshells champion in this company's predicated history- I function beyond justification, there's no method that can explain away the utter madness of why what I do seems to just work…

What you need to understand before you come stalking into Inception like you aren’t just another deer stepping onto the train tracks, is that monsters don’t have a reason to fear other monsters, darling.

… they fear the nosebleeds they can’t explain.”





******




Amber’s Apartment
Atlantic City, NJ
03.01.2022
06:18am




Amber swore that the World Bombshells title didn’t own her…

That was impossible right, an inanimate object couldn’t claim possession in the same way that Hayley Halsey couldn’t walk past a mirror without talking shit cause she didn’t understand what reflections were. No, Amber was most certainly in control of this relationship- symbiotic and mutually serving. Each side bettering the other simply by proximity.
She’d said it a thousand times by now, akin to a classy mantra from an overpriced meditative mountain retreat- it was just pride, that was all.
A proud champion who had dutifully earned and sacrificed for everything she still had the honour of carrying- records falling like dominoes as the accolades started piling higher than the trail of challengers she’d left in her wake just to get to this point.

Leaning back into the rickety plastic chair on her balcony, the one she’d constantly berated and threatened to throw off the fucking balcony if she nearly fell off the side of the busted arm once more, Amber pulled her knees in closer to her chest. Morning sun captured the distinct scarlet glow of her tangled mess of hair, and the glint of gold and glory that sat at her side, in typical pride of place right beside the steaming cup of coffee resembling an interstellar void and the ashtray she’d periodically threatened to catapult off the edge after the chair.
Neither of which ever seemed to happen.

There was nothing wrong with being proud, Amber mused as the bitterness of the coffee wrinkled her nose slightly. A little self-gratification in the face of achievement was healthy- although if she were to say such a thing aloud, she might have been labelled as conceited and egocentric and to say nothing made her seem ungrateful for the opportunity.
It was hers, that had become her right to claim, and there would be no one else on this roster who would ever want it more…not in the same way she needed it, like a sane person might need air.

It wasn’t beyond her comprehension though, as her reflection seemed to disfigure and distort among the ridges tracing the belts main plate, to realize that it wouldn’t last forever. Inevitability would eventually come calling, but she could revel for now. She wasn’t dumb, but she wasn’t going to give up in the face of eventuality simply because it came begging.
In almost every defense- she’d come closer than anyone realized to losing it all, scrambling and scraping with all her might to claw back enough ground that she might stand victorious once more. A split second, that's all it had taken… all it would take…
A stumble. A mistime.  A distraction. A moment that might cost her three wasn’t outside the realm of possibility, that alone had been proven each and every time she laced up her Converses.

That's where Masque had come in. Amber couldn’t quantify their relationship, if it could be labelled as anything more than violent gratuities disguised as life lessons, and even now the redhead cringed deeply at the thought of admitting that maybe… Masque had been right all along.
Drinking deeply, Amber allowed the bitterness to disguise the disdain she tasted like the aftertaste of an insufferable thought. They’d met in Boardwalk under violent circumstances- an old… *acquaintance* had ended up in Masques firing line with the promise of betterment. Nothing had come of it but radio silence and the first night Amber had met Masque was the last time she’d seen the Man in the Hat…

Shaking her head as though trying to dislodge something that lingered far too long, another draw of coffee soothed wounds that peeked open at their edges. Lessons in cruelty, after all, were the ones that stuck in the most meaningful way.
One could have compared it to the way Johanna Kreiger hustled rookies, using them like stepping stones to bolster a flagging reputation of half-hearted violence and flailing dream pursuits leading to a constant nowhere in particular. Far too busy trying to prop up what remained of a ‘dangerous’ reputation with bodies still trying to figure the most effective way to lace their boots, to remember that a far greater and hard won prize had viability if only she just gave a fuck…

A gentle breeze tickled at the little exposed skin she allowed, the fingertips peeking from a hoodie she’d stolen from Mac and the sliver between the edge of her pants and the top of her socks slightly dampened from the slickened balcony surface below. A small sigh escaped as the coffee cup was abandoned once more, the golden mirror further fracturing an image she force fed the wrestling world into believing was still virulent and whole.
Mac didn’t believe it for a second, nor should he have. Although between his continued absences overlapping with her avoidances, they’d barely spent more than a few hours at a time trying to ignore the lingering elephants in the room. Like a consummate professional, he was out forging relationships and networking with his hard won World title while in the background Amber was fighting to keep hers by trying to sever all ties that might turn to anchors if she blinked too many times.

It would just be for a little while… Liar.

Just until she could clear her head… Liar.

Level herself out and find some solid ground that didn’t feel as though gravity had it in for her.

Hell, even the gold seemed to be calling her on her bullshit now- ridges creating a strangely distorted web like the lies she’d been feeding in order to keep the desperation at bay. Fingertips curled at the edges of the belt as Amber gently pulled it into her lap- like a child to be cradled and nurtured, to be told that the cruelties of the world around them would only serve to make them better in the end.
That everything would be better in the end. Softly, as though wiping away an unseen smudge, Amber crossed the edge of her thumb over the name plate bearing the name of the woman whose reflection no longer resembled that of the one who’d won the belt back in March last year.

Fondly, Amber caressed the cruel ridges that left her visage fragmented, knowing that there would come a day that she'd wake up and not see herself reflected back in gold. That on that fateful day, she would still continue to breathe and function as she had done a year prior… that she’d be fine if the unthinkable were to occur.

It wouldn’t though, Amber quickly reminded herself as an involuntary shudder raced through her body, it just couldn’t be.

Not this time.

Not yet.

That was the desperation talking now, the voice that told her anything was within reason if only to stay champion for a little longer. That action could be justified and that undeniable cruelty and violence were viable options for a woman growing more and more desperate to hold something that her broken fingers were fast losing their grip on.
Whether that was her sense of self or the World Bombshells title was yet to be seen, however.

No, being champion wasn’t without sacrifice. She’d given everything she had till now, for those precious 300 days and for just a few more… she’d willingly thrown to the wolves whatever else she had left. That's what champions did after all, that was the reason she’d stayed atop the mountain for so long.
She had given more than anyone else was willing to, and would continue to do so until the shambling remains of a woman with too many pieces lost to everyone demanding their share would fall… disgracefully and alone from her mountain perch.

Nothing else mattered in quite the same way these days, as hard a truth as it might have been to swallow.

 … and besides, who the fuck would she even be now without it?






******




"Have you ever thought too much about where your tongue is in your mouth?

Maybe you are now, subconscious becoming critically forward. An automatic aspect suddenly disturbingly manual- I mean, imagine if you had to think about breathing or the rate at which your heart thumped in your chest. A moment left lingering too long elsewhere and you flatline out of ignorance, a second distracted by something minor and distinctly unimportant and you’re face has gone blue and your gasping trying to force that next breath through your gullet.
Hell, if we weren’t already out of our goddamn fucking minds, one might go insane from the thought of it all… Overthinking to death, huh. How startlingly ordinary in a world full of the extraordinary and extravagant.

Seems almost ludicrous really, cause after all- no one looks that far into things and makes a lick of progress… Yet, every single person who has stepped up thinking that they are the one to slay the princess and rescue the dragon from it's hoard has done precisely that.
Overthought themselves to certain demise. Trying to pick apart something on a molecular level that has it's riddles answer written all across it's surface. Fission and fusion on a personality level, dividing the little red atom as though the incurred explosion is worth the radiating fallout.
Tell me Johanna, am I really such a paradox?
A puzzle to be solved, with the key in such plain sight it almost seems a little too good to be true, maybe that's why no one seizes on it… like a spring loaded trap when really, I just like to see everyone fucking sweat.

I’m not that complex, I’m not trying to feign being an enigma to be interesting. I’m the fucking World Champion so it's not as though I can simply be ignored, as hard as many might try. I’d like to think if you thought laterally enough that you might just solve this little red riddle that plagues the Sin City- however that’s just not you, and be damned if I ask you to be anything other than what you’ve pigeonholed yourself into.
Stick with the tried and true Johanna, what brought you to this precious dance, Brute force your way to a solution like it owed you something,  keep hitting it till you get the outcome you desire like a pinata begging to be brought down from a tree cause the candy is just really bees…

Problem is though, you can't possibly hit me harder than I already have or do anything that hasn’t already been done- your advantage is that you’ve seen almost everyone else step up and fail doing the same fucking thing every time, following like sheep in hopes that luck might somehow shine brighter than the lack of originality and slippery slope of redemptive vengeance.
Dare to be different Johanna, that's what they should have told you, dare to be different just like everyone else said they were…

That's the beautiful thing with you I suppose, theres no pretentious bullshit… no pretending that you’re anything except what's presented. No flash and fancy, no bells and whistles- you step in the ring with Johanna Kreiger and you know you’re getting punched in the face. No need for 16 backflips to get there first, no need for pyrotechnics spelling out names and an accolades list to be read out in honour of your presence… you come out, you fight and in this case you tumble straight back from where I dragged you up from with a story to tell and a reason to grind.
Predictable, definable. Get what you’re fucking given or go without. Smash mouth smashing mouths- it's just a shame that you’ve had no reason before now to get any better- and now with the chance to seize, it's too late and you’re already thinking of ways to turn this opportunity into an excuse.

I’m not unstoppable. I’m not God just in the same way I’m not Satan nor would I be egocentric enough to claim it. I tend not to consider myself with such levels of grandeur considering how dirty my hands still get. No, you see I’m the Ferryman of this division coming to claim my fucking toll from all those who dare stand and shout for paradise from the shore.
See, this title has become pay to play and I’m not accepting IOU’s for the effort anymore. No, you want your shot, I want something from you in return… Exposure doesn’t defend this title and money doesn't buy me days on the clock.
I want a reason to care, I want to see this fucking division improve instead of rest on the gilded laurels that others before me laid and proceeded to defile. I’m not coming for souls, but maybe I should cause there are those out there who still think I’m fucking around.

No, these 300+ days hasn’t come without cost. I can’t stand here and act as though the Bombshells World title isn’t intrinsically linked into my anatomy by now. I've given more than anyone and far beyond what I’ll ever get back. Hell, it could be argued that really.. I’ve got nowhere left to go but down…
You won’t be the one to put me there though, as much as you’ll claim to defy the trend. Keep in mind Johanna, that I’m the reason that you have this belief that you can do better, that you deserve better. I’m the reason for this ‘new blood rising’- the same that continually threaten to tear the title from my stony grasp.

Different doesn’t make you better. Talking louder doesn’t make me notice you.
Show me something I’ve been missing, something I’ve been looking for… give me a reason to fear for my reign. Tell me something about myself that I haven’t already heard… I don’t want the tough talk generic bad bitch 2.0 seminar, I want Johanna Kreiger to come and tell me all the ways she’s gonna leave me a bloody wreck…

… before she too, overthinks paying my fucking toll.”





******



Oblivion Garage
Las Vegas, ND
08.01.2022
9:03pm




No one ever said love was easy.

No one especially had ever claimed Amber was easy to love, and yet it was a choice that Mac continued to make in spite of the redhead giving him every reason to otherwise. Maybe that's why the lies and the secrets she held so tightly seemed to scratch and claw at the insides of her throat as she swallowed another bitter truth in favour of shielding from something far more unpleasant… realization that she couldn’t just be changed, that forcing the sharpened edges of her being back together would only leave them both bloodstained.

Lies. Secrets. Amber forced herself to believe she was doing the right thing… For them. Although a sideways glance at the World Title sitting on the edge of the desk continued to suggest otherwise, a constant reminder and validation to everything she’d built.
Just like all the paperwork and invoices strewn across the surface, at various points of being filed and filled out accordingly, were a constant reminder that being a World Champion did little to shirk responsibility.
After all, they’d bought this place together… built a selective client base and allowed their mutual appreciation of mechanics and severe anti-social skills shine in a way that didn’t leave them so lopsided.

Another argument with Mac had driven her here under the guise of paperwork, the Bombshells world title like a security blanket that couldn’t tell her that she was simply being irrational. Of course she was fucking irrational, that came with the territory.
Between the lingering doubt about her ability to continually outperform and remain flawless under mounting pressure, the ever-present ‘lessons’ from Masque talking about creating a ‘hurricane resplendent’ once more as though Amber had really lost her edge and the general background paranoia that she’d inherited… Yeah, Amber Bane-Ryan could have been considered a little flaky.

Trying to focus back in on the papers, Amber roughly leaned back in the office’s swivel chair. That crush of leather combined with the faint waft of Mac’s cologne, yeah that wasn't helping much with the focus problem as the pang of guilt ricocheted.
Too much stimuli, too much going on- this was supposed to help her focus and put things back into perspective, instead it felt as though she’d fallen into a blur of meaningless words and smudged ink.
All she wanted to do was disconnect… cut away all the ties that bound her to this reality and drift mindlessly for a while on an unconscious river of emptiness. Scrape out all the toxic build up she’d allowed to accrue. Easier said than done, Amber contemplated as she rolled her tongue through her cheek.

“... telling you man, it’ll be fine.”

Hushed voices just beyond the window pricked Amber’s attention, nerves set on edge as though firing on hair triggers. Male, probably two unless they were hyping themselves, attempting nuance and forgetting the way sound carried in the stillness of the night air.
Fight or flight. Neither seemed like a reasonable option- besides, there was nothing of value to steal,  they’d deliberately not taken on clients over the holidays due to their schedules and anything remotely useful or of intrinsic value had already been secured.
Amber emerged from the office to find the door already swung open, the movement at her periphery stumbling with surprise while the two from beyond the window lazily strolled into the space as though expected.

It was the fourth figure though that made Amber wish she had snatched up a crowbar, just in case.

“Ah, Bambi… You’ll have to forgive my intrusion at this hour, but you’re a difficult woman to pin down.”

Dominic Del Gado peacocked before the nameless entourage for a moment whilst reveling in his own perceived grandeur, the flourish seemingly enough of a signal for the men to examine the ‘finer’ details of Amber and Mac’s proposed ‘exit strategy’. That was always the plan, on the day they’d disappear into an outlaw's sunset, Oblivion Garage would be their way out… the gateway drug to a new life, a better life. A less violent life.

“You don’t answer my calls, you don’t respond to my emails. I just wanted to say…”

Dominic stepped closer as a metallic clang against the concrete floor cut him off, the contents of something viscose seeping out across the floor. Another clang elsewhere triggered Amber’s heart rate to spike again… this time bottle of turpentine, the acrid sterile fumes quickly spreading like a fog. Another can, automotive paint… some left over brake fluid… spilled across the floor, the combination of noxious vapors leaving Amber furiously lightheaded.

“I forgive you Bambi. Granted you acted immaturely and humiliated me in such a way…”

Dominic trailed off as he drew a handkerchief to cough into, clasping it over his face although unable to mask the growing distant smile. All too quickly, the intent was becoming clear and all too slowly Amber’s body finally started to react. Boots sloshing through a shallow puddle of something clear, Amber whipped around to pull the closest man from some metal shelving that he skewed like a pretentious cat on a countertop. With the jerking of his body, the shelving came crashing towards them both, sending them stumbling and creating far more liquid debris than intended.
Another tried to grasp at her wrist as Amber tried to straighten, her efforts growing more and more desperate as Dominic continued to chastise as he backed towards the door.

“... that has yet to cease causing me difficulties. See, no one trusts a man who cannot hold his own, who allows himself to be treated as though lesser without consequence. I’ve made it clear in the past, but perhaps you’ve grown careless and forgotten…”

Within a fraction of a second Amber realized the intent, the rigid plastic of a cable tie looped and biting at her skin. A voice far less subtle than that of the Del Gado prodigy leaned in, as she tried to leverage her other wrist out of reach, gravelly and husky between wretched gasps.

“It's for your own good, sweetheart.”

To hell it was, as Amber wriggled free just far enough to almost explode into the one stretched into her direct path. Fumbling fingers did their best to tighten the draw as her own sunk in at her own throat, knocking the crusted scabs of a prior wound free as the seep of red dribbled, scrambling to leave some slack while she tried to shift her body in hopes of twisting an arm uncomfortably out of joint.
Precious seconds passed far too slowly as the tussle raged, more liquids sloshing across the floor… across every surface that might have happily fed a flame… Dominic silhouetted himself in the doorway proudly as Amber staggered and leveraged the would-be assailant over her shoulder with a heavy thud into mercifully dry concrete. Benches soaked in the myriad of solvents, the wooden beams splashed with paint and polish alike…

“You always knew there would be consequences cause there always are, I’m a believer of karma… of being true to your word. Time after time, my darling, you turned on me and I forgave you. I forgive you and I built you up into what you’ve become… Perhaps that was my mistake, perhaps I was wrong to believe beauty might overcome the beast.
You don’t get to decide how this ends, there is no walking away from what you’re wrought… You had an opportunity to be done, to leave when you said you would, still you pursued cause you justified yourself in a new reality. In truth, I never wanted things to be this way Bambi… but now I can’t picture a more fitting tribute.”

He was right, like a figure of martyrdom glowing in the doorway. Amber hadn’t even noticed the minions slip by until the first wave of heat swept through, the fumes leaving her woozy to the point that the blood trying to get back to her brain couldn’t figure which way was up.
Mac. He’d never forgive her… for the raze and ruin she’d so carelessly brought down on them, for the secrets and destruction. Of course this was never going to end peacefully, she swore internally, furious for ever believing such a futile dream.
Everything they’d built, the structural paradigm of their relationship… She’d gotten so caught up with her World title that she’d blissfully overlooked Dominic’s spite and determination to be considered ‘worthy’ of his supposed empire title.

An epitome of their marriage it seemed… quickly going up in flames.

Flames.

Fire.

Oh god.

… her Bombshells World Title was still in the office.
Title: Re: World Bombshell Championship: Amber Ryan (c) v Johanna Krieger
Post by: Dreamkiller on January 20, 2022, 08:49:27 PM
The left turn on life.

I walk for miles and miles and miles.

Searching for something, anything.

Something more than what goes through my head on a day to day basis. Hoping that there’s something else to figure out about myself. The world. And my place in it. But, the result is the same every time. I find broken pieces.

And I try to put them back together.

I try to attach them to things

And no matter how hard I try they just don’t feel good. Nothing fits. The result is always the same, in the end I find out there is nothing new to figure out about myself. I know everything I need to know.

How to hurt people….better than anybody else.

The problem with humanity in general is that everyone wants a little more. Everyone wants to be something else and the difference between me and you is that I have seen those broken pieces and understood their meaning. I have looked into the face and the eye of what is chasing me and I know I have been devoured by it. But the rest of you?

The rest of you run from who you are.

Acceptance doesn’t mean submission. Acceptance doesn’t mean failure. Not when you can mold it, take it in your hands and fit it to your needs, your wants and your future.

Stop fighting what you are. And instead……

Accept that you are broken….

Part 2: Acceptance

It was quiet.

Too quiet for someone like Johanna. The problem with her being who she was is a simple one. When the silence falls and she has moments of solitude. The silence becomes a deafening roar. But therein lies the great paradox. How can someone who craves silence, solitude and generally dislikes most people and the thought of human contact also despise being alone with her thoughts?

It had been days since the incident at Wolfslair. Days since Johanna felt that rage overcome everything inside her. But the moment played over in her mind, a memory that was so vivid that each time she thought of it she could almost feel Alicia's skin and bone connecting with her fist. She could see Alicia’s eyes roll in the back of her head as her limp, lifeless body hit the mat with a thud. And she could hear the audible gasp of those watching, she could see the look in everyone's eyes. The shock, the awe. And the disappointment.

Most of whom Johanna didn’t care about. Save for two people. Alex and Kallie.

Alex because of what he represented: the leader of the gym and the group. The man who had come into her life and gave her a focus and direction for her hatred, her anger and her life. The guy who had helped her become a force in this business, who had held her hand into SCW and had taken her from a talented ball of violence to a focused, concentrated killer. She let Alex down…

And then there was Kallie. Her best friend, someone who Johanna had let in. The look in her eyes is what killed Johanna most of all. The look of disappointment was bad enough, but there was something else. A spark in the corner that made Johanna’s heart explode and break to pieces right to the pit of her stomach.

The look of fear.

That is what Johanna hated the most. Knowing that someone she considered a friend – her only friend – was scared of her. Scared of what she was. Not what she has become, this was Johanna. This was always Johanna. She stepped through her apartment, passed the workout gear left on the floor and toward the balcony. She had no idea where she was at when it came to the gym. She had ignored calls, texts and any form of communication.

I’m such an idiot.

It ran through her mind over and over. She had finally found a place she belonged. A place she could call home. A feeling of brotherhood and respect she had not felt since her early days in the police force back home in Germany. Things were so simple then, Johanna was a bright eyed bushy tailed kid, excited and eager to do her job. It was all a lie, it was all a facade that broke her heart. That wasn’t Wolfslair. Wolfslair was home, it was a shining beacon that she had now ruined for herself. She felt the walls closing in, she needed to get out.

The glass door slid sideways and she stepped into the cold air, covering up in a large black hoodie. One that Kallie had actually got her for her birthday. She swallowed hard and looked at the small cardboard box in her hand. Johanna had given up smoking when she joined Wolfslair in an effort to be healthier, to be the best she could be. It was a filthy habit she picked up from her days in the force. A time when she needed to destress herself. Smoking, drinking. It was all just distractions.

But right now, Johanna needed a distraction.

”Fuck it.” She tore the plastic wrapping, opening the end of it and taking out a cigarette. The second she lit the end and took a breath in it all felt so familiar. The taste of the tobacco, the heat and burn of the smoke sliding passed her tongue and down into her lungs. She didn’t let it out, keeping it there. She didn’t let anything out. Maybe the burning was similar to the fire that destroyed the gym Mac and Amber had. The gym they put so much love and effort into. Just like Alex had with Wolfslair. Those two were so similar it was a shame they hated one another.

Johanna had lit a fire in Wolfslair her own way. It wasn’t a physical one that destroyed Amber and Mac’s place, but it was just as destructive, just as damaging. And it was her rash actions that allowed it to happen. And now, in a twisted sense of ironic stupidity. She was filling her lungs with fire. Full circle stupidity at its finest.

She closed her eyes, allowing herself to exhale. For a moment she was able to breathe. The smoke cleared from her lungs so a new appreciation for fresh air could manifest. But, a knock disturbed the momentary tranquility. Her head turned sideways as she stareed at the door; another knock. She turned to ignore it. A third knock – whoever it was clearly was stubborn and not going to go away. She let out an annoyed and frustrated growl, putting out the cigarette and flicking the butt down onto the street.

Johanna got to the door and unlocked it, pulling it open slightly to see Alex standing there. She shook her head, this was it. She closed the door, undoing the chain and letting him in, turning to walk back into the apartment as Alex followed and closed the door behind him. ”You haven’t been returning my calls or replying to my messages, you just left them on “read”; not cool, Jo.”

A joke

She just turned and sat down shaking her head, Alex sat across from her, clasping his hands together and staring across the glass coffee table. ”So….you know why I’m here right?” She did. Her heart sank as Alex continued. ”Your actions at the gym…we-”

”I know….and I understand.” Alex paused as Johanna interrupted. She looked down and her hands closed into fists as she felt the tips of her nails dig into her palms and shake. ”I’ll clean out my locker and get my things tomorrow before everyone arrives…that way it won’t cause a scene…”

There was silence between them, Johanna guessed that Alex understood and nothing else would need to be said between them.

A laugh broke the silence, Alex shook his head and sat back . ”You think I came here to kick you out?” Johanna looked up, confused as Alex sighed heavily. ”You have to keep your anger in check, and I want you to talk to me every single day after training…..but we’re not kicking you out, Jo…” Alex pushed up to his feet looking down at her, Johanna had no idea what to say. “Just be back at 6am tomorrow, you’ve wasted enough time sitting on your ass with such a huge match coming up. And we don’t turn our backs on family…” Johanna swallowed and looked down before giving him a small nod. Alex shook his head with a lighthearted laugh as he moved to the door. Johanna swallowed hard and was able to mutter out a few words, loud enough for Alex to hear but quiet enough that he could get away with not responding. For her sake.

”Thank you…”


Filters

“Stories from our past make us who we are. It’s a defining statement, isn’t it? Others have been so generous to grace us with stories as a way to reason their attitudes and try to expose some sort of weakness in my framework. Or weakness in my way of thinking and philosophies. The truth is that what I think and feel and what I do are never too far removed from each other. The truth is that no one really knows what anyone else is thinking or what their motives are. And it is all just...mindless guesswork.”

Her voice is deep, deep for a woman. Her accent cuts through any doubt as to who it is. The familiar German-tinged English of Johanna Krieger.

“I could sit here and tell you all a story of myself in my youth to justify how I think or what I’ve done. I could even tell you one that would counteract the reasons that other people have for spewing stupidity against me. Anyone can twist facts and moments to explain their own narrative. I have always tried to be honest when it comes to my motives and my emotions. If I don’t like somebody – and let’s be honest here, I dislike almost everybody – I give my reasons. Now, whether or not you agree with those reasons is beyond me. That isn’t my job.”

“My job is to hurt and beat other competitors for the morbid amusement of others. And I am very, very good at my job.”

“It seems that Amber Ryan took issue with how well I do my job. Poking me on Twitter, chastising me and wagging her finger like some kind of angry mother figure. A pattern that continued in her promo against me last week. It seems as if Amber has taken issue with my treatment of ‘rookies’ in this business and my hard nosed attitude when it comes to how they can learn and better themselves. And, that is her opinion. She seems to have a lot of those and I need to make myself very clear.”

“I am under no illusions as to who and what I am. I know I’m a monster, I know I’m a horrible person and I know I should be ashamed of some of the things I’ve done…”

“I also know we are more similar than others would care to admit…I even said as much, so I suppose you and I are on similar thought patterns, eh Amber? Not shocking.”

Her lips twist upward into a smirk, chuckling at the thought of it and the revelations that aren’t really surprising or new.

”It’s clear to me where I stand here. As I said, I’m the underdog no matter how many ways you cut this cake. I’m the smaller piece. And I’m ok with that. I understand it and I know you won’t see it that way or underestimate me and that makes you a great champion. I’m not going to try and tear you down. That has never been my goal. It has never been my style either. I’m not going to sit here and show respect to everyone though. Some people do not deserve to be looked at as a threat, but you and I do, don’t we? For three hundred days you have faced and beaten the best and, in some cases, worst of this company and this division.”

“Legends, rookies, present day stars. They have all felt your wrath, your skills, and your amazing title reign rolled on. Now, I previously said something on Twitter that might get some people riled up and angry. I said that if I beat you, it creates a new star; yet if I lose, it just adds brightness to an existing one.”

“Some already consider me a star.”

“A Mixed Tag Team Title reign with Alex, two Roulette Title reigns and wins over some of the best to ever step foot in SCW. How could I not be considered up there, huh? And I get that way of thinking. But being a World Champion is the ultimate moment. The ultimate goal. If you’re not in this business to be able to call yourself the best, then why are you even here? So, until I can break through that barrier and hold that title, well – I don’t consider myself to be on that level. And shit, that’s what professional wrestling is right? You can forget the crazy stipulations, the multi-person madness. The mixed tag tournaments to crown contenders. You can have it all but the biggest matches…the best matches…the most meaningful ones are like this.”

She smiles wider, Johanna clearly loving the feeling of speaking directly to a peer who she doesn’t know she can best and step over. This is what she lives for.

”Two women, one title. We have you, the damn near unstoppable, unbeatable champion who has run through everybody on the roster to the point where management has no idea who to throw at her. And the challenger. A talented, yet flawed woman who certainly has the drive and ability to be champion but still has to overcome someone who is essentially a legend. And that might be the truth, or it might be a facade parading around to hide something you feel about yourself. That is what the general public believes though, Amber. Hell, you said it yourself. New blood rising, right? I hate that so much.”

“I have been here longer than you. For two years, I have been flying SCW’s flag and have been standing proud with my Wolfslair brothers and sisters. I have dragged myself up through the ranks and I have gone to war with everyone that Christian and Mark have put me in the ring against. And through it all, I have never complained. I have never whined or begged for championship opportunities. You came along months after I did, you destroyed everyone and took that championship because NO ONE was able to stop you. I respect that. But this myth that I am somehow a “new” challenge?”

“I have been here. The whole time.”

“It isn’t my fault it has taken them this long to see it. And the worst part is I don’t need to prove anything I have said to you, cause the most infuriating part of who you are, aside from the dominance and just how good you are is the simple fact that you aren’t stupid. Stupid is something I can deal with, take advantage of and use to my advantage. But that is a weakness I can’t exploit, I can’t beat and use. You’re not going to look at me as a nobody, you’re not going to think you can walk over me because I have failed to reach the same heights as you and others have.”

“Shit, you haven’t even made the mistake of comparing me to Alicia….”

Johanna throws her arms in the air, almost disappointed that Amber hasn’t fallen into the same trap others have.

”However. The mistakes you have made are glaring, sweetheart. Thinking that somehow, I have been insulting you, or that I look down on you when everything, EVERYTHING I have said and done shows something to the contrary. I respect those who have earned it and I hold people to a higher standard. I respect you. I respect Krystal Wolfe, I respect Andrea Hernandez and Myra Rivers. I don’t particularly LIKE any of you, but I respect you. I respect Tempest and Kat Jones….I don’t look at everyone like they’re beneath me. Just the ones that are.”

“And that is a mistake on your part in thinking my disdain for them is rooted in some kind of arrogance for myself. I want SCW’s Bombshells division to be a division of Killers. I want it to be a place where every single match is a fifty-fifty on who will win instead of it being predictable as the sunrise.”

“I am not going to get drawn into an insult fest with you. I am not going to pick on your hubris, Amber. Because it is arrogance that is earned. You have beaten everyone of note, except me, and have been the shining light of this division and instead of getting thanked for it, you have had jealous little girls stomping their feet and throwing their little tantrums because you won’t let them play with your toy.”

“But, as you have pointed out, I’m a monster and a bully. So if anyone can walk up to you, and just take your toy. It’s me. And Amber, if it makes it easier…I’ll be damn sure to give you a bloody nose that leaks all over your pretty summer dress…”
Title: ... The Less Than Subtle Art Of Still Not Giving A Fuck ...
Post by: DistortedAngel on January 21, 2022, 07:57:22 PM
“It was funny how little justice seemed to come in the wake of justice being done. It was funny how often the word “funny” described horrors that couldn’t be screamed away.”
― S.R. Hughes, The War Beneath





Undisclosed Arena Parking Lot
New York City, NY
22.12.2009
11:37pm



Amber Ryan wasn’t a legacy wrestler.

There wasn’t a heritage at her back, generations of venerated names propping up her formative professional years. She didn’t have sponsorship offers or promoters absolutely tripping over themselves to associate in hopes of getting a rub. No legacy to speak of beyond the untitled swathes she’d drawn through drunken bar fights only to be awkwardly blamed on falls and devoted alcoholism to embittered spouses.
There were never any guarantees… nothing to keep her head above water beyond her own frantic flailing beneath the crashing waves. Vividly, she recalled signing on the dotted line, writing so fast her fingers might have caught alight for fear it might be somehow torn out from under her at the last moment. Suits giving each other side eye as though to say ‘this is the girl they picked?’ as though they were qualified to speak on anything more violent than a poorly made frappuccino.

No, in reality she’d been little more than another concept on paper that didn’t translate the way it was anticipated. As violent as she was pretty, and almost as personable as a cheesegrater to the fingertips.
Even now, with her duffel bag hanging limply as she made her way gingerly across the parking lot, it was difficult to contemplate how far she’d come when the infernal weight of loss still lingered so vividly on the edge of her tongue.
That title had been her proverbial lifeline in the shark infested waters, keeping the door open for her just enough so that she might jam her foot in before they shut her out completely. It had given the wrestling world a reason to view her as more than just an almost pretty face that could bleed on demand, and now… well, that was yet to be seen.

Had she done enough?

Was there ever a time when it could be enough?

It felt as though being champion eternally was impossible, but how else was she supposed to prove that she belonged outside of bleeding to death on a sweat soaked canvas in front of an apathetic crowd who just wanted to indulge the worst of their humanity.
As the stitches in her side pulled painfully, the same ones that had just cost her seemingly everything, she could feel the faint weeping of blood soaking through the edge of her shirt. Briefly thankful that she wore almost exclusively black for that exact reason, she swallowed the grimace while someone in the background gave her a brief wave- probably mistaking her for someone far more important.

No, she mused silently as her shitty rental car came into view, there was no such thing as ‘enough’ in wrestling. There would never be a time she could rest on her laurels or assume her limited reputation as a former champion could carry her beyond a shrug as she was left to waste away in catering.
Generic and far too expensive for what little it offered in terms of comfort and drivability, Amber slung her duffel into the back seat with a thud, even the seats seeming to sigh with disappointment with the sudden change of weight.

Most people would have been thrilled to lose ten pounds in three seconds…

That was worth a brief chuckle, or perhaps Amber was just fooling herself into thinking that things would be fine. That the sun would rise tomorrow, the breath in her lungs would continue and that this seemingly impossible dream… This unlikely turn of fortunes that had flipped 180 back to it's status quo wouldn’t hurt quite so much in the cold light of morning.
Flopping into the driver's seat, Amber paused with her hands resting against the wheel, realization of reality sinking below the surface like a proverbial kick in the ass.
It wasn’t ever just about being the champion, as much as she would never have admitted otherwise, it was a fucking length of rebar to her reputation, a reassurance that all her hard work actually meant something. A backbone to a resume that otherwise consisted of patchy references from people who didn’t like unexpected phone calls. With that title- she couldn't simply be overlooked cause she didn’t happen to wear the right shade of blowjob on her lips.

Although, she never expected to take the loss this hard either.

Being beaten was a given, it had to happen eventually.

However the fact that it wasn’t entirely her fault… that stung.

It would have been easy to blame McCrae for leading a lamb to the slaughter under false pretenses of peace. It would have been even easier for her to blame Dominic, and that certainly had never stopped her before… Problem was, it wouldn’t have changed anything either.
Reality was that she had failed under pressure, regardless of circumstance and that's what would be remembered, etched into the annals of time. Of course, making excuses didn’t alter the events and reminiscing didn’t reverse the fates. Acceptance always seemed to hurt worse than the loss, only because the idea that ‘everything happened for a reason’ permeated so deep that nothing else seemed to hold water.

Gratitude was hard to accept when the timeline could have been so different

Amber’s fingers found the bumps of the stitches, painful and raw to the touch as the redness only seemed exacerbated with the beating she’d taken. She came in wearing a target, a big red fucking bullseye saying ‘aim here’ and expected that she could just pretend it didn’t exist.
Now that was humorous, as the chuckle escaped her lips dryly. Just the idea that she could manage to keep her personal and professional lives separated, that the consequences wouldn’t eventually catch up in such a way as to leave her sitting in a stupid rental car at the end of the night laughing at the absurdity of it all.

She’d already heard enough of the allegory from others about ‘having nothing to lose’, a favorite for garnering sympathy and justifying the shittiness of their actions before they committed to doing them. A spoiler warning for their terrible decision making as though telling someone you were about to spit on everything they’d worked for could be excused cause you warned them you were going to do it first.
Of course, those people always had successes to fall back on and multiple high profile reigns that couldn’t be denied, they spoke as though their periodic trysts with contendership and main event spotlights weren’t worth consideration.

They spoke as people who presumed that losing everything was a minor inconvenience when things didn’t go their way. A bad night, a rough decision… a loss that should have been a win, otherwise irrelevant in the grander scheme.
Amber swallowed hard again at the idea of those assholes doing their interviews under the pretense that they understood what nothing really was… what the idea of unrequited loss could do to someone. What being utterly shafted by consequences seemingly beyond reason or control could turn someone into…

Monsters didn’t stand in front of cameras spewing propaganda and catch phrases, drumming up support while reaching down with latex hands to grasp at commonality. They didn’t put on suits to hide the blood, showing up at a day job caked in makeup as though the bruises beneath weren’t that much darker under the supermarket fluorescence.
No, the real monsters were the ones getting told they weren’t good enough for a match. The ones that bled for every moment they could be in a ring, giving more than what their bodies had cause some higher profile piece of shit had an allergic reaction to something their opponent said about them. Monsters had origin stories, but no one seemed to notice until things went a little too far…

Monsters sat behind the wheel of a shitty rental car, trying to make sense of whether they’d done enough to keep their head above water while they tasted salt in their lungs.

Of course, Amber Ryan wasn’t a monster.

Not really.

Not yet.




******



“I’ve lived a thousand lives wondering when the next one is gonna end.

Everytime I hear a threat against me I wonder if they really mean it, whether they have the capability and the sheer force of will to endure and cease the rampant machine gun fire of bullshit I have a tendency of spewing. I look forward to that day Johanna, the day that someone somewhere fulfills the promise that they can be the one to stop me.
Not because I want to be stopped, oh lord no, I’m having way too much fun sitting up at the top of the mountain kicking at those trying to pull me down by my ankles. No, it's because I’m so tired of being fucking disappointed…

Honestly, it's more exhausting listening to the utter nonsense that's getting people onto my doorstep than the effort it takes to send them crashing back down where they came from. Time after time, it's a constant cycle of derisive respect followed by idle threats.
If you wanna see the end of me- then just fucking do it kids… Don’t wave a proverbial gun in my face if you don’t plan on taking the fucking safety off. I’d gladly do it myself, almost just to prove it could be done, if I didn’t think all the assholes looking to scarf up my scraps wouldn’t profit so heavily from my eventual downfall.

Let’s be real here Johanna, you have the capacity to do what everyone else is thinking. I’m not gonna sit here and sugar coat the fact that you are one of the few people on this roster that might straight up out-physical and out-aggressive me. I have no doubts that on your best day- you’re taking more than just a couple years off my career.
I can sit here and tell you all the derogatory things I think, but I also know that it's not going to matter to you- and there's a very simple reason why.

You don’t think you can beat me. You have already stood up and declared yourself defeated before we ever stepped foot into the ring- and if that doesn’t make me wanna start throwing things in frustration then I don’t know what will.
It was called new blood for a reason, you were supposed to light a fire and instead I’m stepping across your ashes. This was supposed to be a wake up call and you’d rather press snooze to fight another day, you were supposed to be the catalyst and instead all you’ve done is resign yourself to the fact that you’re still the perennial placeholder of a faction struggling to maintain relevance in a place they claimed to have built.

You took the opportunity you were handed and you threw it in the fucking trash cause you didn’t think you were worthy. Washing your hands before you ever even tried. Here’s the thing though Johanna, and something you very clearly haven’t considered- it was never about being worthy, it was never about having ‘earned’ it. If I wanted ‘worthy’ I’d have faced Myra or Roxi for the umpteenth time and everyone would have been bored to death by the sheer inevitably of the result. If I wanted ‘earned’ then I’d have thrown down the gauntlet to Krystal or Andrea and goaded them into putting their titles on the line for the sake of something greater…

What I wanted, Johanna, was a spark.

A reason for every other Bombshell on this roster to stand up and pay attention. To believe that they stood a goddamn chance of seeing an opportunity if they just made a fucking effort to do more, to be more…
I wanted to see an inferno of spirit rage through this division, to empower and engage those who’d decidedly lost their will to compete for the crown jewel cause they didn’t ‘measure up’. It's not about that anymore though, the people that should have beaten me- they haven’t done it, so now they can wait their turn and reminiscence about how badly they fucked up and why I told them they would all along.

Stagnant waters don’t breed anything but suffocation- I wanted to breathe life into this division and instead your choice to allow insecurity and selfish pride to overtake the common decency to show up and throw the fuck down, threatening to undo everything I’ve worked for.
You were supposed to represent a new beginning, a new perspective… now I’m standing here wondering why the fuck I bothered.

I never wanted it to be easy. I never wanted safe- my whole damn career has been built on how many ways I can kill myself without actually dying.

That's the thing, isn’t it? Despite everything we try to do and what we claim to be, we aren’t immortal. Our legacies aren’t infallible, our bodies crumble a little further with every match,  we can inscribe our names all over the annals of time, but paper and stone eventually tear and erode away- everything we’ve done lost to memories that no longer speak our names.
Everything I’ve built as a cornerstone of this division will eventually be lost, someone will come along one day and obliterate everything I’ve done like it was nothing. Maybe it is nothing, in the grander scheme of things. I’m infinitely aware that I can’t continue on like this forever… Losing is eventual and inevitable.

To you though, it simply won’t happen.

You already made that decision. Now it's up to me to enforce it.

It's not that I take you lightly, far from it. I have no doubt this match will have me complaining for days afterwards, that I’ll be feeling everything you’ve thrown at me for weeks on end. However it won’t be your best, you’ve already admitted and ensured that.
It won’t be what you’re capable of cause you’re terrified that maybe you’ll win, that maybe you’ll be forced to step up and assume a role that wasn’t really meant to be yours- a usurper to the throne perhaps.
Now that's an interesting thought, Johanna Krieger-  the most successful member of Wolfslair within the last three months. An oxymoron that can’t decide how much it hates itself. An agent of mayhem ruling as queen over a kingdom she has no stake in nor desire to rule.

It's a good thing I won’t let it come to that.

Of course, that's not being cocky. That's a harsh truth to be misconstrued as something far more personal, like declining to frame a child's fridge drawing cause it's only highly thought of when brought up in the right context. Let's be honest though, who else right now is going to be the one to lead Wolfslair onto the greatness it's foretold for years on end?
Alicia is in the process of self-destructing, Alex cannot for the life of him decide if he’s coming or going, Bella has already dismissed her world title aspirations as a phase and Mercer is trying to convince everyone that he’s more than an Alex Jones facsimile.

Let's be honest, you’ve put a lot of faith into something that's lost a lot of prestige… so believe me, with all the sincerity that I might be able to muster, that you are far better off going this one alone. If only for the sake of saying that it was you and you alone that cost yourself this match, instead of the excuses that come with tag-a-longs and trysts interfering in the matters of warriors.

When it comes down to it- I’m coming into Inception with the belt, begging for you to show me something, wanting more… expecting more… you promised me war Johanna, and have shown up brandishing a misshapen butter knife while still expecting that I’m going to take you seriously.

I will, but not nearly for the reasons you intended.

I never wanted this to become a message, but it seems like it's the only thing you’ve really got left to offer.”





******




Unnamed Studio
Las Vegas, ND
08.01.2022
3:29pm




“Thank you so much for speaking with us. I think we got everything…”

Amber smiled politely, a curt nod following as society deemed necessary while she hoped the blankness and lack of anything resembling sincerity didn’t happen to shine through. There was never such a thing as having gotten ‘everything’, journalism dictated boundaries being pushed for the sake of accuracy, however there were also unspoken lines that required careful skirting. Avenues of discussion were like doors, the opening of one being predicated on the closing of another, the treading carefully across creaky floorboards in hopes that the demons laying dormant weren't upset by the incorrect use of adjective and adverb.
Poisoning the well, after all, was only useful if you had no reason left to draw from it.

“It's really quite a shame that Mac wasn’t able to join us as well.”

Framed as an aside, Amber found herself agreeing automatically as though any hesitation might create an unwanted discourse, startling even herself briefly with how readily the semi-transparent lie fell across her tongue.
Besides, it wasn’t as though they weren’t fine, cause they were. Happily married despite some minor disagreements in private, both of their iron wills clashing while carefully sidestepping revelations of their own secrets and subterfuges. Behind closed doors was entirely their own business after all, in front of cameras it was all smiles for the promotional material, giving everyone what they thought they wanted as images of love and hope were splashed out into a world so severely lacking in it otherwise.

No, if Amber had her way- the public eye would see that everything was absolutely fine with the proverbial ‘golden couple’ and she wouldn’t have anyone speak a word otherwise.

In spite of the facades and falsities they were feeding, Amber knew that Mac was far from oblivious. He’d fake it for the sake of the peace, knowing that she had a tendency to react while she did so only to continue to fuel the need to keep him at an arm's length. Mac was holding back, but even his indeterminable patience would hold out for so long, eventually all their dirty laundry would come to light and the skeletons rattling in their closets could no longer be blamed on the wind.
Still, at least for now, total denial was a far lesser evil than derision. Speak softly and carry a big stick cause no one ever questioned the integrity of what you were saying when all they could focus on was the fact that you were armed.

Even in the immediate aftermath, Amber couldn’t recall much of the conversation. She’d been the cordial, gracious champion with the belt set upon her shoulder. Humble in victory, while a realist in the face of inevitability. She was sure something had come up about Inception, rounding the corner towards the parking lot where her shitty rental car had been parked up, and how much she fancied her chances against a woman that arguably could have been compared to having similar style and attitude.
Even after all this time, the rental cars didn’t seem to improve. Moreso by choice now, as though the lack of decent AC and a suspension that she was sure hadn’t been tightened since the late 90’s kept her grounded. Mac had insisted she take their custom truck, however the thought of bringing it here only to potentially discuss the levels of discord starting to show in their marriage felt disingenuous.

Still, Johanna Kreiger… Amber managed to stifle a chuckle at the time, disguising it as clearing her throat. It was difficult not to outwardly disagree with the sentiment at first, the obliviousness startling considering their approaches to life and wrestling. Johanna had surrounded herself with like-minded individuals, a circle jerk of supposed excellence and potential being fuelled by competitive spirit and flagging insecurities.
Amber, on the other hand, had mostly shunned the idea of the group mentality even in spite of her husband heading up a group looking to salvage the worst of the company and bolster the potential of what was left. She’d won the title alone, retained alone,  there was little sense left of interference now… Distractions though, now that was becoming more of a pressing issue.

Comparing Amber and Johanna had been a distinct error on their part, however she’d reflected it back with gratitude despite the fact the comparison was only ever flattering when you were on the supposed lower side of the equation. After all, no one ever said you couldn’t compare a Honda Civic with a Jaguar…
Just because you could, never meant you actually should.
It wasn’t as though it were offensive, the intention had been reasonable and the swathes to which both women had made through the division respectively over their times could certainly be put side by side… However Amber’s sheer dominance in recent memory set against the moments of indiscriminate violence against rookies and rats alike, almost seemed like sending out an errand boy to get diamonds and them coming back with dollar store glass beads and expecting them to fulfill the same purpose.

Relative, but otherwise completely laughable in context.

Amber had replied to them as deftly as she could despite the landmines of indignation scattered beneath her feet. Polite gratitude but otherwise brutal honesty veiled as confidence. Besides, she had little reason not to be confident if the otherwise uneventful passing of her 300 day mark had anything to say about it. An achievement in itself, even Amber continually found herself astounded by the reality of it. Resting the belt in the passenger seat as she loosely flopped in behind the wheel, a sideways glance and a glint of gold were enough to bring a brief smile across her lips.

She should have smiled more, she had every reason to after all. Running her tongue through the side of her cheek- Amber couldn’t help but drag the Bombshells World title across and into her lap, folding the side plated underneath so that the face captured the full brunt of the afternoon sun streaming through the watermarked windows.
Everything she’d worked for, right there in her hands… all the hurt, the heartache, the suffering and subterfuge. Everything that kept her awake at night and drove her to the edge during the day was all for this. She’d sworn in the beginning that she’d never be one of those people who said they needed their title- however now… she couldn’t imagine walking through an SCW curtain and into a ring without it. She couldn’t imagine waking up after a match and not seeing it staring back from the dresser. She couldn’t imagine the weight not sitting upon her shoulder as though she’d been void without it.

Allowing the held sigh to escape into the dry Vegas afternoon, Amber knew that Mac wasn’t expecting her back for a while yet. She knew he’d be home, he’d told her as much that morning before she’d left, maybe that's why she felt that sudden urge of reluctance to swallow her tongue when he looked at her through the lens of determined disappointment.
None of this was easy on either of them. Neither of them had done anything to make it less so either.
Both of them were World Champions facing down challengers with more ambition than they knew what to reasonably do with, and not enough willpower or willingness to follow through. Both of them stood in opposition to forces that would have rather seen them splattered across the canvas for their continued hubris than celebrated for their achievements.

Alienated together, only more so by each other.

Maybe she’d go to the garage for a while, bury herself in paperwork in hopes that a death by a thousand cuts would be slightly less painful than whatever else might be yet to come. Anything to clear her mind, sanctuary from the self-made storm.
Freedom and clarity, that's all Amber really desired, a way to remove distractions so that her path to remaining champion might be a little less… rocky. Masque had promised such things if only she could sever the vital connections that kept Amber humane… reasonable… more friend than force of nature. However the strained nature of their relationship prior had left Amber a little less trusting than to simply be overtaken by rapture. No, in the meantime Masque would have to settle for digging through Amber’s continually fracturing psyche in hopes that she might trigger something irreparable.

If only she could be so lucky.

If she were going to get past Johanna at Inception, if she were going to keep the threads of her marriage from fraying any further… even at the cost of total isolation and losing everything else she’d built.

For the sake of still being champion after all this time…

Everything else could wait.

Clear thinking. Clear focus.

No more distractions.




******



“It's funny Johanna.

It's funny how long in this industry I’ve spent justifying my existence, my place on the totem pole. Even now there are those on social media who think that I’m some second rate nobody from some backwoods bullshit company trying to talk a big game on someone else's times.
I tell them I’m a world champion, and they say that I’m sheltered. That I can only perform when I recognize the smile of the lights… I’ve been a premier world champion in the industry for longer than most of these assholes have held a contract and still, I find myself trying to justify my place.

I don’t need to, of course. Most of them still have enough teeth that losing a couple wouldn’t necessarily be the end of the world and yet I find myself on the defensive when I should have no reason. I’m proven, I cannot possibly have done more in the last 300 days to command respect than what I already have… yet it doesn’t seem to satiate cause it wasn’t on ‘their terms’, cause I didn’t do it for ‘their benefit’ or simply because I haven’t been there long enough to have earned it.

Your mistake wasn’t to try and call me out for having been here less time than you, Johanna, your mistake was not committing to your stance. If you’re going to try and come for me in any way, shape or form… then just do it, don’t fluff yourself up all pretty and strut right on by like it's not my belt you’re eyeing off.
Of course, that's not to say you aren’t right to a degree- I have been in this company less time, if only by months. I haven’t pottled around in hopes that my levels of gratuitous violence towards absolute nothings would garner me a sideways glance.

You’re right that you didn't come begging for an opportunity, that you weren’t among those groveling for scraps at the table. Maybe you should have though, maybe you should have lined up for your meal instead of trying to make a statement of intent by doing the complete opposite of what you wanted- like giving up smoking cigarettes only to take up crack cocaine as a hobby.
It's easy to lament that they never ‘saw’ you, that you were always there just waiting in the wings- that begs the question though, how much longer were you willing to wait. Maybe you’ve been around the block a few times but you’re as new to this title shot as anyone cause it's still in my fucking hands.
Was it a case of simply biding your time, maybe the itch never seemed to bite that deep… when was it going to be the moment that you chose to strike exactly, or were you hoping it’d just be another lump on coal towards the raging inferno of spite.

Fact is though, it's not my job to know or care…

Not in this case.

I can’t take away what you’ve achieved, I won;t sit here and shit on them as easily as I might choose to- as you’ve so dutifully said, I’m not stupid. Frankly in my position I can’t afford to be, everyone wants to think they are the ones being overlooked as though I don’t take my work as World Champion seriously enough to consider everyone at least the smallest shred of a threat.
Unfortunately your self-awareness does little to bolster the flagging arguments you’ve made about having never been ‘seen’. Lets be real Johanna Kreiger, I see you… I have since I walked through that door, but that doesn’t mean I have to acknowledge that you’re little better than the same pissants kicking and screaming on the floor cause they don’t get to be flavour of the month.

You stand there on your high horse saying you never needed to be told how good you were, but immediately deride those who sought validation for their efforts even when they had no place to. That's not higher ground, that's resignation to your position.
That's what I’m trying to stamp out of this division…
I say let them scream- let all those Bombshells have their tantrums, let them stamp their feet and swing their fists, let them rattle off their achievements and why they think their limited scope of perspective makes them the most likely to knock my head off my shoulders.

At least they’re passionate, Johanna.

Apathy doesn’t make you cool, cynicism doesn’t promote you being any kind of badass. It's easy to stand there and talk about respect when you haven’t got a leg to stand on otherwise, I mean honestly what are you going to say about me otherwise…
I’ve been in this position long enough that I can no longer be accused of ignorance, I can no longer be told that I’m a fluke or that I’m just skating by on my laurels. I’m a proven commodity regardless what you want to say- and so instead, you say nothing.
Nothing of significance, nothing of importance. You show up, you do your little verbal dump of sweet fuck alls, you throw down and put on a good show and then you saunter back the way you came feeling a little less sure of yourself.

Everyone thinks there's this secret to beating me, like I’m a mythical creature looking for their silver bullet. Really though, I’ve left the keys to the kingdom on the doorstep however everyone continually insists they have to break the door down.
I’m intimately aware I can be beaten, the problem is everyone only things theres one way to do it… Promising they’re going to take a different approach and then doing the EXACT same thing time and time again as though because they’re doing it, it must be different.
I could stand here and lay it out on the line… spell it out piece by piece instead of leaving breadcrumbs in the wake of the destruction I’ve caused, but what good will it do when time after time everyone has had their chance and they refuse to accept it's as easy as I’m allowing it to be.

Inception is supposed to be about new beginnings… about a sunrise on a division plagued by the moon's malevolent  influence. It's supposed to be the dawning of something different, something better- and yet the person who should be most adamantly against change is the one who wants to see it the most. I should be content with simply allowing the status quo to stand, I should stop giving a fuck about plotting a path to my own demise…

Truth is though, I’ll make this division better.

Even if it means razing the whole fucking thing to the ground in the process."





******



Oblivion Garage
Las Vegas, ND
08.01.2022
9:27pm



Amber had always presumed she was going to hell.

If anything, the idea that the redhead would spend eternity crowned by fire and brimstone had been common knowledge for a longer time than she was willing to admit. All the times she’d been told to ‘go to hell’ never felt quite so fitting as it did now… all those who wished to see her virulent light extinguished closer to getting their wish than they ever intended.
Thick haze swallowed her in the few precious minutes she’d stolen to contemplate what should have been an otherwise easy decision, Dominic’s silhouette had long since disappeared from the doorway as she pulled herself on instinct towards the office door whilst trying to shield her face from the noxious fumes.

A simple decision, simple and usually horrifically wrong.

Groping wildly for the doorway, Amber’s throat burned as she coughed instinctively. All manner of logical thought or thinking lost in the flood of adrenaline that dulled her sensibilities into a mushy pulp of good intentions. Spluttering and grasping for purchase, Amber’s fingertips found the edge where leather met metal, the heat starting to fill the room with a suffocating humidity.
Pulling the title as close as she could into her chest, she pushed away for the door again only to be met with a sudden wall of flame captured on a gust that had swept in through the roof. Shielding her face as best as she could with her free hand, the panic started to settle into her nerves…

Was she really so fucking stupid as to believe there would be no consequences for her actions?

That she could go and kick the proverbial hornets nest so gleefully before prancing away as though the universe had forgotten about the exacting of karma. She’d sent a message, so why was it such a surprise to have received one in return… That was supposed to be the end, goodbye to a chapter in her life that she could no longer bring herself to keep re-reading in hopes the ending might change.

Dominic Del Gado had always been a man of words. A man who delegated actionable offense to those with lesser moral fiber and greater expendability. A man who had only ever laid hands when provoked, and even then it had been little more than reaction without intent to maim, a man infuriated to the point of minor assault by the world not bending over backwards to satisfy his whims.
Petty violence. That had always been his worst… God, she never imagined he would go this far…

Imagination was the least of her concerns now though, smoke billowed around her as she tried to shield herself with her free arm from the flames that licked greedily at the exposed skin on her hands and forearms. Above, she could hear the ceiling beams start to crack under the duress, the walls groaning under the pressure of the fearsome heat- even the bottom edge of the leather that slipped out from under her arm was blistering at it's edges as she staggered towards where she hoped the door was.
Disoriented, it took far too long for her to realize that her left boot had caught alight from being splashed with accelerants, the heat absolutely agonizing as she stomped at it to quell the flames.

Amber knew the place like the back of her hand, she’d spent more hours here than anyone, on a normal day she could walk through with her eyes closed down to dodging the occasional wrench carelessly left scattered- however through choking breaths she found herself thrown off and blinded with the rising panic…

She wasn’t going to get out of here.

Furiously, she shook the thought from her head. Heart racing faster than her brain could process, the heat was becoming unbearable as though her lungs had inhaled the embers and she was burning from the inside out. Forcing herself forward, legs starting to buckle beneath her, she realized with absolute horror how much smoke and fumes she was inhaling… the flames weren’t going to be what would get her… she’d collapse in a heap and feed the flames with her lungs full of soot.

MOVE.

… Not this way.

… Oh god, not this way.

Another stumble as the ceiling beams creaked ominously overhead, she couldn;t even bring herself to look up for fear she might lose her bearings entirely. Tripping forwards, her left hand slipped into the flames before she could steady herself, pulling it back she found herself met with the collapse of a ceiling beam stopping mere feet above where she’d fallen… Had she been standing… No doubt, that was well within head height…

MOVE.

Scrambling to her feet, ducking away from the collapsed beam and ceiling it had brought down with it, the doorways brilliantly lit silhouette taunted her.
So close… but she couldn’t breathe… her mouth tasted like ash and fumes… around her metal groaned and contorted, another ceiling beam cracked into the concrete floor somewhere behind her… her skin felt as though it might simply slough from the bone… her left hand was already blistering while her right still clutched at the World Title against her chest.

… Mac.

He’d never forgive her. Not for bringing this upon them. She’d done this, she’d failed to handle business, failed to uphold the promises they’d made in their vows of always being truthful and open-minded, she’d failed him over and over… and over again.

… He’d never forgive her if she didn’t get out alive.

Oh god, this was all her fault.

She couldn’t even bring herself to muster tears now, evaporated before they could roll across her burning skin as the screams of despair and fury died long before they reached her lips. Legs barely holding her any semblance of upright…

GET OUT.

Lunging forth, the billow of smoke spat her out into the dirt outside, knees scraped across rocks and dirt as the stones cut painfully at her already blistered hand. Crawling desperately with one hand, Amber heard the collapse of one of the metal walls with a sickening scraping sound that cut through her soul while the ceiling slowly seemed to fold in on itself with an angry orange glow, hungry flames grasping at the inky starlit sky as though not satiated by the sacrifice it had been offered.
Desperately trying to draw breath, Amber dragged herself up onto her knees- only now aware that she still held the Bombshells World title against her chest with a death grip that had left her knuckles in porcelain white.

Maybe she could have even caught up to Dominic if she’d just…

No, she couldn’t possibly have left it behind.

Even though it had nearly cost her everything. As though it hadn’t already…

Sirens screamed in the distance, their lights would soon dull the brilliant orange with their crime scene red and accident blue while the billowing smoke blotted out the stars that winked in promise of her deciets and destructive failures staying secret among them.
Slightly loosening her grip on the leather edge, she pried the belt from her body just long enough to capture her own reflection in the ruinous glow- soot covered, burned and bloodied with the faint beginnings of a bruise around her throat to nearly match the cut Masque had left her with prior…

She’d gotten out, against what felt like all odds…

Much to her horror- although she’d never admit it- most importantly in her mind she’d gotten out with her Bombshells World title…

Was it worth it?

Collapsing back into the dirt exhaustively as the sound of tires crunching across gravel and dirt dragged her attention from the belt she still cradled in her arms while her trembling fingers traced the faceplate where her name, her achievement remained intact… as though it somehow validated her near-death decision, her sacrifice.

How could it ever be worth it?

Numb from the inside out, the sound of voices felt all too distant despite the approach of footsteps. Coughing violently before spitting black saliva into the dust, as the embers danced in the night around her tauntingly, Amber allowed herself to fall deeper into the creeping numbness that overtook her senses.

How could she ever look Mac in the eyes, tell him what happened here without him turning on his heel and walking out… it's what she deserved.
She had done this. She had taken everything they’d built and thrown it to the flames and for what… petty vengeance? A score that she had no right or reason to seek to settle. Revenge for failures she couldn’t rectify, for a past she couldn’t change.
No, she couldn’t look him in the eyes and justify anything that had happened here… nor would she. Not while she stood on the brink of her dishonesties costing them everything.

For the sake of their marriage.

For the sake of their love.

For everything they’d done, everything they’d built.

For everything she’d been willing to sacrifice to keep their facade as the golden couple alive, just a little longer.

No, she could never tell him what happened here.

… But, of course it was worth it, it had to be.