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Messages - Frankie Holliday

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Supercard Roleplays / Chapter 8: L.A. Woman (Part 2/4)
« on: November 07, 2025, 11:55:45 PM »
I didn’t want to have to do this, you know.

I didn’t want to be the one to have to do this.

I mean, don’t get me wrong. I am going to enjoy the fuck out of it. But I thought that someone else would just do it first and we wouldn’t be in this mess. But I suppose there is no one more qualified at this point, is there? You all had your chances and you failed. So now, the burden falls on me.

Fine.

But I want all of you to cheer for me. I want all of you to sing my praises. I want all of you, who are sick of Crystal, to thank me for what I’m about to do to her.

I will do exactly what you all have been wanting someone to do to Crystal for a very long time. And I’m going to do it because it needs to be done.

But what you don’t get to do is question my methods. You don’t get to question the end result. You have lost that privilege. You had your chance to prevent this and didn’t do it. So now I will. I will do what needs to be done.

I’m doing this for all of you.

You are making me do this.

All of you are as guilty as Crystal. You could have prevented this, but you didn’t. Now I’m taking the action you want me to.

Remember that.

I will do what is necessary.

I am good at that.

Trust me.




Before I left, I had to do late night shopping and find a dress and heels.

I had to look professional.

I hadn’t ever really worn heels and I always found them uncomfortable when I did. I didn’t go to my prom, I didn’t really have boyfriends outside of Eddie. And Eddie never really gave a shit what I looked like. I didn’t even wear heels at the strip club. I always wore boots. High heels were a different thing.

Nothing I saw looked appealing to me. I didn’t want to dress like a stripper, despite that being my actual job, but really, dresses were not my thing. I had to try and find something. Heather helped me look and would constantly press dresses against me and tell me it looked cute, but I never saw the appeal. I had no desire for this, but then I remembered that being a stripper meant I knew what people liked to see.

So if I couldn’t be naked, I needed to accentuate my body to where it was nice to look at.

The dress had to be about thigh level. It needed to seem accessible. I didn’t want a deep cut, but one tight enough to push my chest out. Gotta use what you got. The heels just had to match, and not kill my feet to walk in. Hair down, but back.

This was so much work, but what the hell, if it worked, then it worked.

I woke up very early and packed a few things, in case of a long stay. You always plan for shit like that. I hugged Heather and then, boom, I was on the road. Driving in… whoever’s car this was. It had been a few days and wasn’t reported as stolen. At least I never saw anything about it. It was like 1am when I left, because it was a 7 hour drive to Los Angeles. I had never driven this distance before and it sucks the life right out of you. I had gotten enough sleep but, I decided to stop off at a gas station and get some coffee to keep myself going. I had to be there by 10am. I just drove and kept up with traffic. Sure it was late, or early, whichever you want to call it, but the sun was above the horizon, I know that much.

I took the most direct route which was driving through the parks and forest region of central California. I amused myself with wondering if I would see bigfoot or something. But then I also began to wonder what the hell this Glen dude actually did or wanted. Because the truth was I did not remember even speaking to him or him giving me the card because I was too drunk, or drugged, or both to remember any of it.

But he seemed to remember.
Or did he?

Thinking about it as I drove I felt that sense of foreboding. I can’t imagine that I did or said anything that would impress this man to the point where he would want to hire me. Like… for anything. He said he could make use of my talents. Or could use someone like me. What the hell did that even mean?

The drive was long, but at least it looked kinda pretty. But after 6 and a half hours I arrived. I had made pretty good time. It was 9am and I was now in LA. I drove around, trying to find this building and finally, I made it.

Mica Studios

I walked into the place and it was pretty packed. I looked around and realized that this wasn’t just a movie studio. It was an event venue. It hosted all kinds of things. There were people from all over, and a lot of tourists since the building was an attraction. I needed to change, so I brought my dress and shoes into the bathroom and changed. The dress rode up even higher than I anticipated, but it could be useful. I clumsily walked through in heels but it didn’t matter. I was about to speak to reception when my phone buzzed.

A text from Glenn

“Are you here?’

I replied “Yes. Waiting in the lobby.”

A few moments later he responded with “change on plans. Can you meet me outside? I’m in the Audi.”

I shrugged and went outside. Sure enough, a few moments later, a black Audi pulled up. The rear window went down and a smiling man waved.

“You must be Franchesca.”

“Yeah.”

“Great. Uh, where your car?” 

“In the lot. The blue Subaru.”

“Do you have the keys?”

Yeah… why?

“I’ll have my guy take it to my lot. It’s right where we’ll be today.”

Another guy got out of the car and approached me, hands out, expecting my keys. My stomach began to knot up. Why would he want to meet here and then go somewhere else? Isn’t this his office? What was happening? I did not feel good about this at all. Glen clearly saw that.

“It’s very busy at the office. I figured we’d do a lunch meeting. No need to worry.”

Usually when someone says that, you should absolutely worry. I didn’t know how to feel about this. What if this was a bad thing? What if something happens? I could die right here and no one would know.

But, this was a chance. I mean, the whole car thing may have been a huge mistake and maybe I was worrying too much. The guy answered the phone. He texted me. He made it sound like he was in control of a lot. My gut still said that I should not do this.

“I can just follow you if that’s okay?” I finally said. Glen looked confused and sad.

“I swear this is legit. I know, it might look weird, but I’ve got to scout some locations after this, so I won’t be coming back around to this area. My guy will bring it to you when we’re done. Promise.”

It still sounded weird. But I had my knife. I had my phone. I was prepared should something happen. At least I wouldn’t go down without a fight. I had my spare clothes in my backpack. Plus… it really wasn’t my car.

I finally sighed and handed over the keys. I went to take a seat on the side opposite Glen, but he gestured for me to get in the front seat.

“You can ride shotgun.”

I finally shrugged again and entered the passenger seat. This was so odd. Every alarm bell in my head was going off. Glenn was right behind me. I wasn’t too thrilled, but I wasn’t thinking anything of it. Glen was looking down at his phone as we pulled off.

We drove for what seemed like a really long time. Glen was making small talk, asking how I liked LA, where I was from, things like that. And I noticed we were getting to a more and more remote area. This did not look good.

There was a small diner that I noticed. I guessed that was where we were going.

But we drove past it.

That’s when all the alarm bells went off.

Glen wasn’t really speaking to me much. So. I needed to make a move.

The car finally came to a stop at a red light. I pretended to sneeze multiple times, causing the driver and Glen to lower their guard. In a flash, I unbuckled the seatbelt and pushed the car door open. I flung myself out much to their surprise. I ran, kicking off my heels to run faster.

“COME BACK!”

I heard the shout and then the sounds of footsteps rapidly chasing me. I looked back and the driver was in hot pursuit. I reached into my pocket and found my knife as I continued. I was running for my life and suddenly, my phone flew out of my pocket and smashed to the ground.

“Shit.”

I couldn’t stop for it. I turned and hit an alley and there weren’t people around. I turned into an alley with a fence. In one motion, I tossed my bag over there and jumped the fence. I was pretty athletic from the stripping and dancing, so I made it over with that, and the adrenaline. I saw the driver turn and look down the alley and give up. I hid in the alley and watched as he eventually gave up and started walking away.

I sat down, catching my breath as I looked down at my dirty feet, which had some blood coming from it. In my haste, I must have stepped in something sharp. But I didn’t care. I was safe. At least for the moment.

After a long time with no sign of anyone. I changed back into my normal clothes and used the dress to tend to my wounds, ripping and stripping pieces off to serve as bandaids. I finally emerged from the alley, and tried re-tracing my steps, and the Audi was nowhere in sight. I began looking for my phone, but I could not find it. Most likely, the driver backtracked first and took it.

The Audi was now gone. I was alone. I had my backpack which at least had my purse and my money and whatnot in it. But now I had no phone, no car, and no way back. I could at least feed myself, but I had nothing to my name outside of some of the money.

I was on my own again.

What the hell was I going to do?

The only thing I could do.

I walked back the way I came.

I didn’t know why. I mean, really, any spot was as good as the other at this point. There was no difference between where I was and just Los Angeles. I had no idea where I was. I just knew following the sun would move me west, and I couldn’t stay there, just in case they came back. I walked and it wasn’t long before I found actual civilization. There were shops, busy streets, food and lodging.

I walked into a coffee shop and walked up to the woman behind the counter.

“Excuse me, I’m a little lost… where am I?”

The woman looked at me like I was dumb.

“It’s Sherman Oaks.”

“Thanks. Can I get a large iced coffee?”

“Cream and Sugar?’

“Yes.”

A few moments later, I got my coffee and sat down, taking a sip with a sigh.

I had a couple options of trying to call Heather to come and get me. I could have called the police maybe. But I told Heather I didn’t want anything bad on her head, and this… this was bad. And I was unsure what the Police could even do. Give me a ride back to Reno? Then again, I could start… all over again here.

And dammit that actually seemed like the best option.

 I needed to figure this out.

How do I survive the concrete jungle of Los Angeles?


It just needs to be said at this point.

I’m sorry Crystal.

It’s not that we don’t like you. Well, we hate you, but that’s beside the point.

But I have the duty to inform you that your role is being re-cast.

You won’t be getting the part.

Look, it’s nothing you di- well, no. It's exactly what you did. It’s what you bring to the table. It’s not what we’re looking for anymore. You’ve been great, no doubt about it. But the fact is, this is a young woman’s game and you have basically been aged out of the role. We really have no choice. It’s just not going to be a believable story for you to come back for the 97th time and succeed. Because you know where we go from here. You’ve done it a lot. You’ve played this role so many times, and quite frankly the fans are just tired of it. They need something fresh, new, and exciting.

This is just something that happens. You know? James Bond, Batman, Robin Hood. All these characters have to get new people to portray them. Either through performance or age. Or death I suppose. But at the end of the day, changes have to be made. I know you had your heart set on this because, apparently, you want to do this whole thing as many times as humanly possible.. And look, I know it’s been a long time. 5 years since you played this role. And there is a good reason for that.

Your time is up.

Look, I’m trying to let you know in a language you can understand. You have been an out-of-work actor for a long time. You’re not making Hollywood blockbusters anymore. You’re not having grand premiers or attending film festivals as the guest of honor. You’re not making the headlines, and you don’t have the paparazzi following you anymore. And you only get some many comeback specials before it’s not special anymore, and believe me, the comeback well has run fucking dry.

I’m telling you this now, because I’m a big believer in just ripping off the band-aid instead of letting someone down gently. There's a reason that you haven’t had a title match or been relevant in 5 years. It’s because your time is over. Time has passed you by. It passes all of us by sooner or later. You’re just going to have to come to terms with this. You can hang and play in the Roulette division, get a last hurrah there. Or maybe grow a spine and go after the Internet title. But that’s it. The Bombshell’s Champion just isn’t the role we need from you anymore.

Sin City Wrestling does not want, or need you to be in the starring role again. The role has to go to someone younger, and who is genuinely interesting. A person who hasn’t hit their peak yet. I can safely say that you peaked a long, long time ago. I was a fucking teenager when you were ruling the roost. That was a decade ago. It’s just time for you to move on, and do so with… well, let’s face it, you don’t have any dignity or self-respect left. That’s why we have to move you out. The public doesn’t want to see you anymore. Not in this role. Not on top, not as champion. You had that, and it’s now my time.

It’s just time that we shake everything up. That’s what I’m trying to do, Crystal. I’m trying to change things. I will apparently have to drag this company kicking and screaming to a goddamn utopia, but in order for me to do that, I can’t have you walk in off the street and just try and take this away from me when I’m just getting started. You’ve done this to so many your entire career. It’s time for that to come to an end. I cannot have you attempting to re-capture some long-lost flame for your own self-preservation. There is a vision, Crystal. A clear plan and path for this company to be great.

Nobody, and I mean nobody is going to want to take a peak at Sin City Wrestling and see what the future looks like and tune in to see you, yet again.

That’s a turn off.
That’s a channel changer.
That’s every single bombshell rolling their eyes and wondering when this will ever end.

We just don’t need this anymore. We have been due for change and it just doesn’t include nostalgia acts trying to re-capture the magic of many moons ago. That’s why I’m here. That’s what I have done since I got here. I have sunk my teeth into making this place more lively and less boring. I’ve systematically rid this company of old acts that don’t need to be here and needed to make way for the future. I’ve changed people, infected them to make them move how I need them to move. And my grand vision is slowly coming to fruition.

You are not about to fuck it up for me.

This change is going to make everything better. It’s going to be the most worthwhile change to ever come to this company. It’s already started turning for the better and getting away from the same boring, repetitive names all trying to stay on top or cling to their spots or rest on their laurels for the better part of the last what… 5 years? You are part of the problem Crystal.

You were the first domino to really fall by the waste side and now you want to hop back into the spotlight simply because you haven’t been there in a long time. No. We’re done with that. We’re done with “legends” coming back and trying to jump to the top spot based on their history. We’re done with the random. We’re done with the nonsense.

And we’re done with you.

Think about it this way: You escaped the killer in the original. Do you want to sign on for the sequel?

What do you think is going to happen, Crystal?

We were going to just kill your character off in the first 5 minutes. That’s how this works and you know that. Do you really want that? I’m trying to give you the out here. You know you don’t want that, and so, you should not be here, trying to mess this up for me, and chase stupid ass records.

But… I get it. I know what I have to do.

I know you’re not going to go quietly. I know you’re going to fight me on this. You’re going to fight me and not just accept the vision I have planned. You will have to be shown the way. I understand it. I know you. I watched you. Your manipulation tactics inspired me to sucker people for myself and see how much I could get away with. You, and all the terrible things you have done to further your own career? They were fuel for my fire. They helped me in my life. I looked up to you.

If I could end this any other way, I would, Crystal. I don’t want you to stop being a terrible human being on my account. I don’t want you to stop loving and leaving, using and abusing. No. Far from it. I want it to continue. I want Crystal multiple-last-names lasting legacy of manipulation and desperation to continue to live on forever.

I just want it on a smaller scale. Not at the top, not anymore.

I need it in smaller doses. It’s not top of the marquee material anymore. It’s old news, and that’s why we’re going in a different direction.

I’m sure you understand.

…

Actually, no you fucking don’t.

You clearly don’t. You continue to talk about how this journey was different. This journey is the one that changes people’s perception of you. When you win the title a SIXTH time, then everyone will forget about all the shitty things you’ve done and this one will be authentic and you’ve fought so long and hard to get back to this spot and blahblahblah fucking blah.

I’ve heard this speech so many times, and so has everyone else. You cannot seriously be standing in front of a Sin City Wrestling camera and blurting out that tired bullshit like anyone could ever possibly take it seriously. Like… you really did that shit. Hilariously you’re trying to tell everyone how difficult every opponent was, and how you’re lucky and so grateful to get back to challenging for the Bombshell’s championship, but then in the next breath telling me and everyone else you’re just better than us anyway.

This is what I love about you.

Your complete inability to pick a lane and stick in it.

I mean, I have to ask now. Were they hard matches? Or were you not trying? Were they quality opponents? Or not in your league? You speak out of both sides of your mouth that it’s hard to tell what the hell you actually mean. If you were a little smarter you’d realize how stupid you sound. Then maybe you’d understand fully why so many people hate you.

You say you are so thankful and fortunate to be in this spot. But also you’re so good that I’m going to understand I’ve never wrestled someone like you.

Well no shit.

I’ve had like 10 matches in my career and I’m at the fucking top. I understand there are challenges I have yet to overcome.

But do you see me worried?
Do you hear the fear and uncertainty in my voice, Crystal?

No. You do not. I’ve told Bombshells better than you I wasn’t impressed by them, and the same holds true for you. Nothing you do in the ring impresses me. Outside the ring? That's where all the impressive stuff is.

Inside the ring? I have no reason to be intimidated or to be afraid of you. You’re too busy talking about how you haven’t been important for 5 years, but you’re the best in the world. You’re too busy scraping by and getting your ass put in the hospital, but you’re the best in the world. Your image is so tarnished that this really is bringing me no joy.

I, like everyone else… has had enough of you.

That’s why I have to end this.

But I will be generous.

Because this is High Stakes. This is the biggest night in the company. It’s the most unintentionally ironic setting for this. This is where the lights will be on brightest. Just like you want. Just like you crave. This is the biggest stage. And it is where this all comes to an end for you. You do not get the fairytale ending, yet again. You will fail. You will be disposed of.

I have put the spotlight on you like you wanted. You wanted it so bad, no you have it. When you lose Crystal, I want you to finally, finally comprehend that this is my division now. You’re one of the last of the previous generation. One of the last of a dying breed. And fitting, you’re the most delusional of all of them.

High Stakes is where I end your dream, stop your ridiculous “redemption” and turn off your goddamn spotlight.

Trust me.

2
Supercard Roleplays / Chapter 8: L.A. Woman (Part 1/4)
« on: November 01, 2025, 11:43:41 PM »
Well shit.

I was hoping for something different, but the predictable came true.

Bella Madison opened the door for Crystal whoever to get yet another chance at glory.

Why are you guys making my job harder than it needs to be? I’m trying to help you. I’m trying to save you. You all got an opportunity to beat the shit out of each other and enjoy yourselves and be rewarded with all your malice and ill-will for a chance to wrestle for this championship you all want so very badly.

And you let… Crystal win?

I am disappointed.

But, no matter. I will lead by example. I will show you what you all have to do. I will show you why I am the only one capable of changing this place. Crystal is the last of her kind, and this is the end of her road. And when I end this, say thank you.

And do better.

I'm always watching.

Trust me.



I finally felt for the first time in my life that I was stable. I had a job, and finally, some money to really have a solid foothold. I was still missing a car, and a home of my own. If there was a life that really was starting from the bottom, this was it. I used my bike, but it was still a chore to go anywhere and do anything.  I was still crashing at Heather’s apartment, but again, the idea of moving into an apartment was out of the question, I didn’t make enough money, as a stripper and… basically a prostitute, to sustain living in a place with rent. But I didn’t want to stay there any longer than I needed to.

Heather was not really against me staying there, but I didn’t want to feel like a leech. At least for the first few months. As time wore on, I got comfortable and I wasn’t really concerned with the rent at that point. Heather was being nice, but I could tell her patience was wearing thin. I was living there, eating their food, using their water, and I would only occasionally buy groceries. I mean, I didn’t have a car. And we all… pretty much shared their car, but I couldn’t just take it whenever I wanted.

I obviously needed an actual vehicle. But again, taking on payments on a limited budget is not it.

Heather agreed to help me look for a place. But nothing really popped up that I could either afford or stay for any reasonable length of time. The only real plus side was that I didn’t have a lot. I mean, I didn’t even have a bed. I ended up buying an inflatable twin size bed from Wal-Mart. It wasn’t much but it worked.

It was around November that Ryan and Heather were going to head out to Sacramento for some kind of party with friends. I wasn’t really interested, nor did I really even want to go, but Heather insisted I tag along. It was going to be awkward. I didn’t know these friends, I can do fine in the apartment by myself, but Heather would not let me say no. She just kept going with it.

So, the day came and I went. I was only 19 at the time, and I knew no one. I brought my phone, and because I was always taught by Charlie, despite everything, to bring something to protect myself. No matter what, I always carried a 2 inch pocket knife, and a leatherman multi-tool.

Just in case.

The party was just like… any party you’d see. Everyone outside in the backyard of this house. Smoking, drinking, probably doing some kind of drugs, but hey, whatever floats their boat, I guess.

Ryan and Heather encouraged me to mingle and say hello to a few people. I remember meeting the owner of the house, Teddy. He just had the look of a douchebag, so I kept my distance. After doing so, and not really being a social butterfly I was offered booze for really the first time. I couldn’t get one at work, being too young, and I never really had an interest in it. But wanting to fit in, I drank.

The world spun and became a foggy haze. I had never tasted alcohol before so I had no idea what happened. The world was so blurry. It never cleared. I had obviously had too much to drink, but it still felt weird. I remember leaning against the house in the backyard to support myself.

And then… black.

I slowly came to, and I was in the back of a car. But I was laying in the backseat. I didn’t make any noise right away, but a groan escaped me. My vision was still blurry and I couldn’t make out anything right away. I was in a car, and the car was moving. The flashing of lights every so often lit up the car.

“Okay” I thought to myself. “Ryan and Heather clearly are driving us back home. No problem.”

I started to stir when I saw a head turn to look at me from the front seat.

“Is she awake?” A voice said.

My first thought was that the voice was Ryan, but the voice… it was different. I laid still as the person in the passenger seat reached back and touched my back. I pretended to still be asleep or… unconscious and the person in the passenger seat moved my arm and hand to check. I let it sway limply. They returned to their normal position.

“No.” They said, But that certainly wasn’t Heather’s voice. It was a man’s voice, which meant there were two men driving me around. A million questions raced through my mind.

Was I being kidnapped?
Had I been raped?
Where were these men taking me?
Who even were they?
What did they even want?

The two guys made casual conversation about work, sports, and music. But I trusted my gut that whatever was going on, wasn’t going to be good. I looked around from what I could see, and on either side of the car, was woods. So we had to be on a highway of some sort. I had my head facing the passenger side of the backseat, so I was able to slowly move my hands. I felt in my jacket pocket, my phone was still there. And my knife was still in my pants pocket.

I needed to make a move.

I pretended like I was stirring and fully waking up. We hit a speed bump and the man in the passenger seat looked back and saw me moving.

“I think she’s waking up!”

The vision was still a bit blurry but the adrenaline of the situation helped clear it. I looked up and shook my head, I covered my mouth and pretended to gag.

“Can… you pull over Ryan, I need to throw up.” I said in a pretend, but still somewhat real groggy voice.

Whoever was driving, actually listened without saying anything. No one wants puke all over their backseat, obviously. I sat up and put on a hell of an acting job, still being clumsy and nearly falling out of the car. The guy in the passenger seat actually helped me. He took me about 20 yards into the woods. I clutched at my pocket knife in my pants and held it in my hand. He stood to my left, hands on his hips as I knelt down and took a breath before sticking my finger down my throat to trigger my gag reflex. I had to make this as real as possible. I coughed, gagged and spit.

“You good?” He said.

I nodded and started to get up. He turned away from me.

I flicked open my knife.

*Slitk*

I stabbed the man in the thigh.

He howled and fell down. “OW! WHAT THE FUCK?!” He screamed and I stabbed him again, this time in the back of the calf. He screamed again, and I pulled on the knife, slicing down his calf. I stood up and moved. The driver must have heard the screams and rushed out of the car, jumping over the guardrail. He rushed to his buddy’s aid.

“WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?!”

“SHE STABBED ME!”

I sprung out from behind a tree, jamming the knife into the driver’s shoulder, and three more times in his back. He fell onto his side as he held onto his shoulder. The passenger was immobilized from his two wounds. In the dark, I fumbled around, and found the keys to the car. Those men were not about to victimize me. I turned and headed back to the car.

“WAIT! WAIT A MINUTE! STOP!”
“COME BACK!”

They continued to yell for me to return, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I got in the car, started it, and drove off. I needed a moment to get away from the situation and pulled over. My hands were shaking, my whole body was trembling. I stepped out of the car and actually did vomit. Whether or not it was from the booze or the blood, I can’t tell for sure. I needed to figure out where I was and what was happening.

I pulled out my phone to use Google GPS to figure out where I was.

Highway 80, in Baxter, California.

I was an hour away from home, and weirdly, headed in the correct direction.

I didn’t think twice about it. I got back in the car and kept driving. It was 4AM so at about 5:15, I arrived at Heather’s apartment. I pulled in and Heather there to meet me, a concerned look on her face.

“Franchesca? What the hell happened? Who’s car is this?”

I took a moment when I fully got out of the car, still with blood spattered on my clothes. Heather’s eyes widened.

“What the fuck happened?”

“ I … I don’t know. I woke up in the back of this car and these two guys were driving and I panicked!” I answered, speaking 100 miles an hour and getting all that out in one jumbled sentence. It was slurred and my head was aching and ringing. I fell to my knees as Ryan came out and they brought me inside.

I sat on their couch and was in a daze. Everything happened all at once, but at the same time, all in slow motion. I took a shower and Heather helped me lay on the couch. She even called in and said she and I would not be into work at the club. The adrenaline finally wore off and I went back to sleep.

I woke up with Heather literally watching me. I groaned as my head was no longer pounding, and for a moment, I thought that maybe I dreamt the whole thing.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. What happened?”

“You tell me.”

“ I don’t remember what happened. It’s all a blur.”

“Last time we saw you, you were shitfaced and clinging onto some guy.”

“Where were you guys?” I asked.

“You told us you were good there. You met that guy and you were all over him. Making out and everything. You said you have a ride back.”

“I don’t remember that. I was too drunk.”

“That still doesn’t explain how you ended up with a car and blood all over you.”

That, I did remember.

“ I… must have passed out, I was drugged. I woke up in the back seat of this car. These two guys were driving. I didn’t know who they were, and when I realized it wasn’t you.” I said.

“But they were talking about what they were going to do and I had to do something.”

That part was a lie.

I still don’t know to this day if I was drugged. I was also unsure of what they were going to do and not once did they even seem to mention me. In fact, if they were going to do something with me, perhaps violate me, why would they drive all that way? Why not keep me there, or at least close by? I wasn’t tied up, or tied down in any way. And they were even helpful…

Now I was starting to think they weren’t bad people. But it sure felt that way.

“Did they try anything?”

“I pretended like I was going to throw up and then they let me out of the car and… then it was all clear. They were going to do something. I pretended to throw up and I saw the guy un-doing his pants and… I panicked.”

He did not. But it was clear that I was the victim.
I had to be.
Obviously.

“Oh shit.”

“So, I… I stabbed them. I always carry my knife on me. I took the keys and I… I came here.”

“Are they…”

“I don’t know. I mean… I don’t think so. I stabbed them in the leg and the other guy in the back.”

I held my head in my hands. I shook his head and felt like crying. Everything was a whirlwind of emotions.

On the outside at least.

In my head, I was more just… numb. I didn’t really feel one way or the other. Maybe they were going to do something to me, maybe they were driving me home. Maybe I was just some crazy bitch who stabbed them and stole their car, and left them to bleed to death. Either way, I was safe.

And… on the extreme bright side of this… I now had a car!

Ryan came home after his work was done and told me he would report the car and try to find the men who tried to do something horrible to me. I was annoyed at this, because I feared the worst for me. I might have just attacked two people who were trying to help me.

There was an intense argument about it. It lasted a couple of days as we tried to decide what the next move would be. And I would have lost the argument if I hadn’t searched my stuff.

Inside my jacket pocket was a business card.

Some place called Mica Studios in Los Angeles. I had no idea how I got it or who gave it to me. But there was a number and name written on the back in pen “Glen Lantz 213-480-3231”  I was so confused, but obviously, either Glen or someone who knew Glen gave it to me.

I called Glen a few days later.

“This is Glen.”

“Yeah, um… hi, my name is Franchesca and… I got this number the other night at a party.”

“A party? Where?”

“Um, Sacramento?”

The line was dead for a few moments.

“Oh. Yes. Yes. right. Franchesca. Okay, yeah, Okay. Uh, are you free right now?”

“I… I can be.”

“Yeah, Okay, we talked at the party, and you expressed an interest in coming here. We might have something for you, and someone with your talents. Where are you right now?”

“I’m… in Reno.”

“Okay, can you make it down here by tomorrow?”

“Uh… yeah, I think so.”

“Great. I’ll have my secretary schedule you. I’ll put it down for 10am. Is that good?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t really recall the party.”

“Oh, it was fabulous. Trust me. I can really help you out, but you gotta get down here tomorrow.”

“I… I will.”

“Good. Talk to ya then,”

And then… he hung up.

I explained all this to Heather and Ryan, who were more concerned with me after what happened and settling that matter.

“You’re just going to leave?”

“It’s only for a day. This… this could be huge. Let me at least look into this. If nothing comes of it, I’ll come back, and we’ll settle all this. Please.”

Heather and Ryan were upset that I was just going to leave with this whole car thing unsettled. It took a lot of haggling.

“Look, if this gets out of hand, I don’t want you two to be part of it. You’re good people. You helped me. I don’t want any of the blood on you. Please.”


They finally let me leave. I packed some things, and took the car. I had seen enough in the first 48 hours of a crime that they usually would know what happened. It had been about 48 hours, and I left.

Headed for Los Angeles.

I was on the road again.


The spotlight.

I know you love it so much, Crystal.

This is it. You’ve put down and stepped on more promising talent and now you’re here again. I know you are so proud and you feel accomplished. What would this be, championship number 6? 7? 11? 34? You really want it don’t you? You know, I almost feel like I should just give it to you. We’ve got to do something to keep you around don’t we? God knows when you’ll fall into a funk and disappear again. And we can’t have that, can we?

If you want the spotlight that badly Crystal, I will shine it as bright as possible on you.

You want the spotlight? Here you go:

Are you ready? Let’s put the focus and the spotlight on your words and actions, shall we?

I have to begin with you saying, and I’m quoting you here, you “NEED this moment.”

You need this moment…
Huh.
YOU need this moment?...

What the fuck are you talking about? YOU need this moment? Get the fuck outta here! You need this moment, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!

You’ve been wrestling for 35 years and you’re still only like 35 somehow. You’ve won a million championships, you’re in the god damn hall of fame of like 12 different companies. You sign your name on every company's dotted line that either tolerates you or doesn’t know how toxic you are. You’ve had your moments. You’ve had every opportunity to have your moment for the past 15 fucking years, at least.

You know how many people work hard and never get close to what you’ve accomplished? Do you know how many people would give their right eye for half of what you’ve done? But, you don’t really give a shit about them, they aren’t you.

Which is, to be fair, something I appreciate.

So tell me why, Crystal, why do you need this moment? Is it simply because you haven’t had a shiny title belt in a couple of years, you need this moment? No, you don’t fucking need this moment. You are tied for the most Bombshell’s title reigns ever. How many moments do you fucking need?  You’ve had moments out the ass in your career Crystal. That is not good enough for you? No, I will not accept that as an answer.

Why? Because you need to complete redemption run #4562? We have all seen this movie before. Like holy shit this hasn’t changed, like ever. You treat everyone else that has ever tried to help you like a piece of tissue, you use them and then dispose of them when you get what you want. Then, you give them nothing. Then they get mad, you get mad, and you find yourself alienated and hated. Then you spiral out of control and lose everything.

And then begin the same god damn redemption run where you apologize and tell everyone they are right and you were wrong for doing all the stuff you did.

Then you win a belt.

And the whole fucking thing starts over all over again.

And this has been going on for over a decade.

At this point I just wish you owned it and accepted being a terrible person. Why even bother flip-flopping? You are a shitty person. Embrace it. Own it. I know it helped me a lot! Unless it’s really like… a turn on for you. Scamming people. I mean, no kink-shaming or anything.

That’s the spotlight alright! That’s a good start, but we need more. Let’s shine some more spotlight on you!

It’s amazing. You’re like a vampire, sucking the life out of company after company to sustain yourself. And now you come for this championship.

Again.

Is that what you want? Will it make you feel good inside? Will it fill you with the fuel that will keep that flicking spark going just a little while longer? Will it add a few more fleeting seconds to your well past 15 minutes of fame? I wish I knew that level of desperation Crystal, I really do.

I wish I had enough people in my life who trusted me enough to use them for my own personal gain more than once. I wish enough people gave me the benefit of the doubt as many times as your “friends” do. I wish I had a wife, husband, daughter or son like you do to use and manipulate in order to achieve success. And the best part is it’s not even like you just lean on them when you’re down. No, you go a step beyond and squeeze every ounce of energy and good will out of them. And it’s all worth it because in the end, you get a silly championship belt.

One would think that at this stage of your career, when it should have been over long ago, that you would have finally just realized that this championship isn't everything. It does not cure all or give you any sort of redemption or justification for your shitty behavior and then ends have never justified the means. Or that the whole “redemption run” thing has been so overdone that it’s lost any and all meaning. Winning this championship doesn’t mean you were correct or noble in your efforts.

All it means to you is a little longer under the spotlight.

You are just a leech.

People give you chance after chance after chance when you do not deserve them. And then you work somewhat hard for two whole matches and you are rewarded.. You talk about not getting your chance...

HOW MANY FUCKING CHANCES DID YOU ALREADY HAVE?

They give, and give and give and give.

And you take and take and take and take.

And then you inevitably fuck it up.

It’s what I admire most about you.

But yet, this is the formula. Until recently, where it has finally changed.

My goodness, I don’t think you have anyone else to exploit right now! This can’t be right… Oh wait, no, you latched yourself onto the other has-been still clinging to relevancy in this company, Mercedes Vargas. The only other person would brag about just sticking around so long she’s achieved records by fucking default.

I wonder at this point who will turn on who first? If I was Mercedes I would have dropped you long ago. I wouldn’t want that baggage around me. I got my own and taking on someone else’s is just stupid. I wonder if you will have this epiphany and turn around and say “Mercedes was just pretending to be my friend, she never wanted anything to do with me!’ Which… newsflash, no one, wants anything to do with you.

Which is kind of wild when you consider that someone of your experience and stature should be revered! You should be able to just walk away, and let other people have their moment, and you can be looked at in the same light as other people who walked away with their head held high, and their dignity and self-respect intact.

But you want the spotlight so badly, you threw away every shred of either of those things to achieve a meager championship for a few months.

But you love the spotlight right? You’re enjoying this right? Let’s keep it going!

I would be remiss if I didn’t listen to you and hear you say that when you’re focused, when you’re on your game, nobody can beat you. When you try, nobody is better. Does this include Mercedes? Does this include everyone else in the 5 year title drought that achieved something? Were you just not trying? I wish I could make such a backhanded compliment that smoothly. You are so fucking tone dear and unable to read the room it’s amazing. Someone could mention the Manhattan Project and you’d be talking about a video game. I would actually feel sorry for you, but it’s much more fun to point and laugh at you because you deserve every bit of the shit you get from everyone else.

It’s like you read "How To Lose Friends and Alienate People"and took it as a personal challenge.

OH.
OH MY GOD.
Hang on.

You know, if you wrote a book and gave away the secret of how easy it is to leech off people and stay successful, you’d be an even bigger star! You’ll have another moment! Look, I just gave you your next character arc.

Follow me on this.

Okay, You write the book, see, and then you tell-all and go on a book tour and make a ton of money, and do speeches and give TED talks and the whole thing. And then of course, you have the fallout from the book where people say mean things about you and reveal how terrible of a person you are, but you won’t care because you already have their money! It's a win-win situation for you Crystal. You have a future right there.

And then, hang on,it gets even better! You can then write a second book, retract and change everything from the first book. And repeat the cycle over again! This is a fool-proof plan Crystal! You get to travel more, ignore loved ones and friends and be with your favorite person in the world: you. How have you not done this already? This seems right up your alley!  You’ve got so much material!

Think about it, Crystal.

Now… Look, I’m not scolding you for ignoring and abandoning people. Go ahead and watch this back. At no point did I say that what you do is wrong per say. No, It’s fucking fun! You have to step on people to get where you need to go. You’ve been doing it for years! Obviously you enjoy it! Who has time for family and friends? They are pests, Crystal. You’ve shown everyone that. Look at Seleana. You know why she’s a former Bombshell’s champion? Because of you! And has she ever really thanked you? Has she ever really done anything like that...for you? All she’s done is nag and complain about how you, you, the hardest worker in the family, don’t do enough! That’s crazy talk if you ask me!

I mean…
Loyalty?
Devotion?
Love?

These things aren’t really helping you, are they Crystal?

And all Diamond did was bring you down. She’s a failure, and I suppose you kept her around for sex and whatever. Pussy must have been good, because otherwise she’s fucking useless. I’m happy to see you seem to have ditched her pretty damn quick.

And now you have Mercedes with you. You and I both know this won’t last. She’s not really on your level, is she? Look, if I was you, I’d drop her before she drops you. Because you know what’s about to happen. I’m going to beat you, and she’ll probably maybe win her match, and then you’re the sidekick again. You are nobody’s sidekick. You know that’s the end result. I’m not telling you things you don’t already know. You’re the star of the show, right? Lights camera action, all that, right. Why are you sidekicking for Mercedes Vargas? That should not be you! You are the one in the spotlight.

Speaking of which… How are you enjoying this?

Now, here’s where I’m really going to blow your mind.

I’m only saying all these things, because it’s what you taught me.

Yes, you inspired me, Crystal.

 A lot of what I learned came from watching you do what you do. I am what you helped create. Your manipulation, toxic attitude and extreme ego, are all a part of me. As a young, impressionable youth, I needed people to emulate. This is what you would be doing, Crystal. I’m like a mirror image of what you are, just younger, hungrier and in the middle of some important shit so I can’t be dealing with you anymore. It used to be humorous, but at this point, I’ve learned all I can from you about how to twist and spin every situation. I’ve learned how to spot the suckers and most importantly, just how useful family and friends can be when used properly like the tools they are.

Aren’t you proud of me, Crystal?

Aren’t you happy with seeing what I’ve done already?
Aren’t you pleased I am continuing where you should be leaving off?
Aren’t you proud that this is going to be your legacy?

Well fine. Be that way. The spotlight is one you, glowing brightly. I want you to enjoy these next couple of weeks and all the attention I’m going to give you. Because at High Stakes, I am officially turning it off, for fucking good. No more moments, no more chances, no more runs, no more spotlight. Your time has passed. This is the last time you get any spotlight.

I will take it from here. It’s what needs to happen.

Trust me.


3
Climax Control Archives / Chapter 7: What Do You Do For Money, Honey? (Part 2/2)
« on: October 03, 2025, 11:55:01 PM »
I am your champion, Sin City Wrestling.

Now do you believe me?
Now do you trust me?
Now do you understand what I am trying to do?

This is important! I am changing lives and I need you to get on board with me so that I can inf- I mean affect lives. Careers even! But what I don’t need is you doing the same thing over and over again. We are done with the cycle of random championship matches and random contenders on random shows. It’s OVER. This should be the last goddamn time that any champion has to go through this.

I should be celebrating, and I did for a couple of weeks. I drank and smoked and fucked. I had a good time. Because I am at the top. I am on top. And I will stay there because this company NEEDS me. You understand, it needs me. There is no need to pussyfoot around and have some kind of peaceful transfer of power.

No. I am in charge, and I am changing things. There is a vision here.

So, I’m going to let this one slide. But this is the last time.

The very last time.




“We’ve got some hot girls for you, we’ve got some great drinks. So sit back, and relax. Coming to the stage at this time… Get seduced by … Sin.”

That was my name. I suppose it fit me at the time. Or… really, it still does today. But that’s not the point.

I was one of the more popular girls, but there were girls who were better dancers, looked trashier, had a bigger ass, bigger tits and whatever, but I made due with what I had.

I had come pretty far using my assets, so I felt a sense of pride dancing on that stage and taking my clothes off. Pretty far indeed.

I danced on that stage and I felt good about myself. I didn’t really enjoy myself though. I understood that this was a business and these dudes, and some girls, were paying customers. We gave them naked women and booze. I learned during this time that the weirdos were the ones without a vice. We all have skeletons,

They just have more.


One of the things I actually bought for myself was a bike. I was able to get around. I really had enough for a small car, but the whole idea of having a car didn’t appeal to me. A bike wasn’t the greatest thing in the world, but it would enable me to be more vigilant when it came to the road.

I used the bike to get to and from work without a hassle, and just putting it in Barry’s office ensured nobody was going to steal it. It helped me get around and I was then able to enroll in pole dancing classes to get better at my job. The pole left so many burns and scrapes on my body I looked like I had fallen off a fucking mountain sometimes. I fell a lot. Bruised my body up pretty bad, but after some hard work, I was pretty good at it.

Anyway, as “Sin” I was able to just play the role and have fun. Frankie’s problems were forgotten for a few hours. Sin did things for people. She got people off. Let their imaginations run wild. It was easy money to be “Sin.” It was fine. It was a living. But, even at 20, I understood that this couldn’t be a career. I needed to change things around.

I was still living with Heather, but at the same time, I was trying to find a place to live on my own. An apartment was going to eat into my money at an absurd rate. I paid Heather like $200 a month and bought some groceries from time to time. An apartment was going to be like $600 a month at bare minimum, and that was for the shitty ones. A decent apartment would have been over a thousand dollars a month. That was going to take my money faster than I could make it. It really wasn’t worthwhile.

But I couldn’t live with Heather forever.

I biked around several neighborhoods and scoped out nice places to possibly live. I had like… maybe $8-9,000 with me. And I realized that this was a huge problem. I had some money in my account from home, but that was a local bank which… obviously wasn’t in Reno. I had to open a second account and so, I biked to Chase and put all my money into an account. It obviously looked a bit crazy that I was depositing so much cash into the bank, but I took all my money as cash. My pay from Barry, tips and the $200 bucks I charged the John’s for sex was all cash.

I didn’t know how the hell strippers did their taxes.

I did eventually get a W-2 from the IRS with all the stuff on it, and it matched so… I guess it’s fine. The IRS has yet to come after me for tax evasion, so… whatever.

Anyway, I kept looking at houses like I could actually afford one. That whole process was draining to even think about. The fact was I needed a proper place to stay, but I couldn’t really afford to live there long, nor could I continue to just live with Heather and Ryan with it being kind of awkward after Ryan and I hooked up.

I was making good money, just not a lot of it. And it goes fast, especially in a place like Reno.

One night, I decided to walk around and there was a house party going on. Some dude was having a fun get together with some friends. I decided to invite myself. His door was closed, but his backyard was wide open. There were people outside, drinking, laughing and having a good time. I let myself in and not one person questioned who I was or why I was there. I assume they all figured I knew the homeowner in some capacity.

A few I even recognized from trips to the strip club.

I had a couple of drinks, despite being underaged, but it wasn’t like someone was carding people. A guy I knew from the club came up and starting talking to me, I blended right in.

“Do I know you from somewhere?”

“I don’t know. Depends on how many trips you’ve made to Fantasy Girls.”

“Oh yeah. You work there? Yeah, yeah that’s right. How do you know Trent?”

I now knew the Homeowner’s name.

“The same way I know you.” I smoothly lied with a sly wink.

“Nice.”

It was around 2am, when the party began dying down. I made my way into the house where people were playing beer pong among other things. I explored Trent’s house. It was fine. Nice carpets, some hardwood floors and nice furniture which really tied the room together. People were leaving, and I found a spare room which was clearly used for storage. There were plastic bins with heaps of clothes and other items neatly stacked.

I figured by this point, I would just crash there for a bit.

I felt like I finally found a nice place to stay.

The only problem was there was already someone else living here. I was technically trespassing and squatting in his house, But… as long as he didn’t know, it wasn’t going to hurt him, or me.

I hid in the closet for a little bit until Trent, or… I guess it was Trent, turned down for the night. Once I was sure he was asleep, I got out of the closet. I couldn’t crash in a bed, that would be too obvious. I also didn’t want to eat his food, since that would be another giveaway. I wanted to be close to a door in case something happened, and I found I could climb into a little nook in his pantry. I got in there, and used some packages of cookies, Oatmeal and other stuff to hide myself from view. I spent the night cramped in that little hole. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked.

Trent left in the morning, making himself some eggs and coffee before skipping off to work. I watched him pull out of the driveway, and I now had the house to myself. I explored further, seeing where Trent actually lived. He had a home office, a nice living room and a nice bed. As far as I could tell, he was single. The toilet seat being up was a dead giveaway. That morning, I relaxed on his couch and watched some TV and took a nap on his couch. I went through his keys, and found the spare house key after testing it on some doors. So, because I hid in the storage room closet, I knew he never went in there. I went back, and unlocked the window to leave, and left it unlocked so that I could return later.

 I took it, and quickly went to a local hardware store and had a replica made. I now had keys to Trent’s house.

Not really knowing how long Trent would be gone, I made sure that I would be gone before he came back. I also had to work so I couldn’t just stay there forever. But I did want to come back. There was just something thrilling about the idea of staying in this man’s house without his knowledge. How long could I keep it up? What would he do if he found me?

It was very exciting to me.

I would stay with Heather after that on days I worked. Days I didn’t, I would return to Trent’s house. I always ensured I didn’t still have glitter or anything on me. I would always eat out so that when I arrived, I wasn’t bringing anything with me. No traces.

I was chilling in his house one day and saw his car pull into the driveway.

“Shit.”

I turned off the TV, and made my way to the storage closet as quickly and quietly as possible. I hid there until I heard him open and close the door again and the car started up. He must have forgotten something. I crept out and watched him pull away again.

A close call for sure.

It was fun, but at the same time, I understood that I needed more. I did need a permanent place to stay. But nothing here was going to work. Living in Trent’s home was a crime. Heather’s place was awkward. Everything else was too expensive. I had to find some kind of way to make a lot of money fast and large enough to sustain me.
 
Tough choices were ahead.


Congratulations, Cassie Wolfe.

You are an extremely lucky girl.

You are the last beneficiary of the previous way of doing things. You will serve as the final example of everything that was wrong with it, and why it’s going away. There won’t be anyone who undeservingly receives a championship match after you have this one.

I know you may think that winning your previous match gives you some kind of momentum, or some kind of fuel to possibly pull off this upset and fulfill all your dreams and become the Bombshell’s champion.

Sadly for you, it will be utterly meaningless.

Winning a match by basically default means you received this gift. You in your heart and soul know you do not belong here. You do not deserve to stand across the ring from me and try to beat me. Much less trying to beat me for this championship.

As I said, change takes a while, but slowly, over time, you will get used to them. So what I want you to do Cassie, is explain this to all your friends. Savor your one big chance to be in the ring with the Bombshell’s champion, because quite frankly, you do not possess the skills or talent to ever do so again.

And I am going to see to it. 

I will find the place for you, and it’s somewhere in the Roulette or maybe, just maybe the Internet division. You should never again even sniff at an opportunity for my championship. This is from what I remember, your first, and it should certainly be your last time in this position. You know this, I know this. Let’s not stand on ceremony and pretend that you have done anything worthy of being here.

You are wasting everyone’s time. Yours included. Because you don’t try to get better. You settle. You have at least the potential to be so much more than you really are, and yet, every time you are handed chances, you fail. Elimination chamber? Failure. Battle Royal? Failure. Please do not sit there and believe that because your last victory was against Seleana that it means anything. Defeating the absolute bottom of this division means zero. All it means is that you are a sentient being.

You’ve accomplished nothing. So much nothing that you were a fucking spectator at Violent Conduct. That is what you, a self-proclaimed “Wrestling Prodigy” was reduced to. You are nothing more than an extra body that this company throws out there from time to time just so that they can justify paying you.

And you have allowed that to happen.

Do you think that PTA gym or Hero Academy are proud of your laziness? Do you feel proud of your complacency? You should be apologizing to everyone and anyone who ever lifted a finger to try and train you because you are embarrassing them, and yourself by simply floating along and being nothing more than a body.

Maybe, just maybe it got through to you that you should take some goddamn initiative. You demanded a match, and you won. And for that, you deserve nothing but a pat on the back. And then maybe you can finally get the proper motivation to actually get better, so I don’t have to have this conversation with you. Because I’m telling you the truth. I’m telling you bluntly what others have probably, or should have if they were true friends, have hinted at for some time. I’m just relaying the message directly.

You. Are. Not. Good. Enough.

And really, I’m giving you too much credit by adding the “enough” at the end of those words. You are a sad sack, who will never amount to anything unless you make the drastic change, or embrace what I am offering.

But hey, you don’t have to.

You can do exactly what you’ve been doing all this time and float along aimlessly and assume that you will fall ass-backwards into matches like this. You can. The only thing that will happen is that you will find those opportunities will dry up. And once they dry up, you will continue to float along aimlessly and just be put into popcorn match after popcorn match because you didn’t actually make any progress.

You can stay on the hamster wheel forever if you like.  You don’t have to listen to me. What do I know?

But here’s the other side, Cassie:

You actually hone your craft. You put your focus on the right place and then you can actually compete and actually make strides. And then you can proudly walk around with an Internet or Roulette championship belt and you can actually hold your head up with some kind of dignity and respect because you will have actually earned it. You can stop looking for praise from your trainers because they aren’t going to give it to you. Stop fighting for their approval, and approval of yourself.. You can actually be something more to your skillset and talent level.

Is it a ceiling? Yes, Cassie it is. But it is a ceiling for a reason. It shows you just how far you can go.

No more relying on dumb luck to get where you need to go or to get an opportunity you don’t deserve. Those days are over. You fit right there in that little bubble, and within that bubble, you can go nuts. Do all the things you want to do. It allows you to live your best life. You can do anything you want, inside that bubble. It is, in my opinion, the best way to use you. It works for you.

You can make an easy choice, Cassie.  You can just do the same shit you’ve been doing and get the same results, which is none. You can continue to rest on the non-existent laurels you think you have. And just be another face in the crowd. Another name on the roster.

Or…

You can abandon what has gotten you to this point, and start anew. Do you really need the approval of people? Do you need your friends coddling you? Because it is those same people who have put you in the position you are in. You are only in this match because of dumb luck. After this? After you lose? You’ll be right back where you started. And those same people will hype you up once again. You’ll get right back on the hamster wheel and run run run until what? Because the days of falling ass-backwards into title matches are over. This is the last one.

And you’ll never earn another shot at anything without making a drastic change.

I can change you for the better. I will change you for the better, Cassie. You obviously want to live up to the ridiculous “Prodigy” standard, and although that’s just a nice pipe dream, you can still achieve a level of greatness on par with your abilities. I can do that for you. But this match? This match is to show you the level at which I have risen to, and it is one you will never achieve.

There is something there, Cassie. It’s not much, but it’s there.

And I can help you bring that something out of you. If you take my advice, that is.

But if you wish to be stubborn and hard-headed, you will suffer the consequences. I can scar you for life, Cassie. I can break bones, I can tear tendons and ligaments. I have had a few years of studying the human body and understanding how to manipulate it to where it causes you unimaginable pain. I can make you wish that you had never stepped into a ring at all. I can do all those things.

But I don’t want to.
So don’t make me. 

I mean, did you know that most bones in the arm can break with only 100 pounds of pressure?
Science is super fun!

You want this.
You don’t deserve this
But you do need this.

Trust me.

4
Supercard Archives / Chapter 7: What Do You Do For Money, Honey? (Part 1/2)
« on: September 12, 2025, 11:39:48 PM »

Time draws near again.

Time to battle once again.

Time to put an end to this silly game.

I want to thank Andrea Hernandez for being a coward and making up an excuse to back out of her chance. I want to thank her for blocking me on twitter when I hadn’t said or done anything to her. Perhaps it’s because she knows what’s about to happen.

And I know Kayla Richards knows. I’m sure she’s been training and preparing, having said what she needed, made her counters and pithy comebacks. This is a world about have you done lately, and all the captain has done is sit around and tell you she’s great.

I have shown you.

And I will continue to show you.

The sacrifices I have made?
The depths I have gone to?

You will fully understand why I am prepared to be the leader I told you I would be, and make the changes that are required.

Prepare for the next chapter.



I was in Reno.

I walked the strip with what little money I had, backpack and duffle bag with me. I looked suspicious as all hell, but then again, this was a city that was pretending to be Las Vegas, with its own strip and casinos.

The money I had probably wouldn’t afford me a stay in any hotel on the strip, but a cheap motel would work. I wasn’t old enough to rent a car, since you have to be 25, and I barely had a license as it was.

But, I was here. And I could at least settle down for a little while. I could maybe even win some money. But I wasn’t entirely broke. I did have a bank card and some money from my old job at Burger King. It was a couple thousand dollars since I really only worked there for a couple of months. And between what I kept from Eddie and I’s crime spree and the truckers, I had about another $2,000 cash. So, in total, I wasn’t going into this with nothing, but I didn’t have a lot.

I used my phone's GPS to find a motel for cheap and set all my stuff in it. This is where I would be staying for a little bit, but I needed to find some kind of work or way to make money. Thankfully, this motel wasn’t too far from the Reno strip and I was able to walk there. There were all the bright lights and more tourists than you’d think, but it wasn’t bustling like the actual Vegas strip. This is where people who think they are clever and saving a buck or two go.

I walked and there was plenty to gamble my money away on. But not what I needed. I couldn’t gamble anyway. But, there was something I could do.

I walked until I happened upon Fantasy Girls. A strip club. I figured in my head that I had already lowered myself to using sex for favors and money, but this was a chance to reduce the amount of sex, but increase the money. It was win-win.

I did feel a little bit of shame thinking about working at a strip club, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I walked in and the girls were flirty and working me just as hard as they would work any man who came in the club.

“Can I talk to the owner about… working here?” I asked the girl with the smallest bikini I’d ever seen on a person.

“You trying to get a job, babygirl?” She asked.

“Yeah.”

She looked me up and down, I wasn’t dressed in the attire, but she was also looking at my body. I was mostly covered, but hey, my boobs do stick out a bit.

“I don’t know if you’re what we’re looking for, but he’s around the back through the double doors, second door on the right. Knock first.”

“Thanks.”

“Good luck, baby girl.” She whispered, quickly turning her attention from me and to the next guy to pop in the door.

I walked through the double doors and found the second door on the right. The sign was posted on the door.

Barry Simms

I knocked.

“Yeah? Come in.”

I slowly entered the room, somewhat nervous as this was essentially an on the spot job interview.

Barry looked confused as I stood before him, saying nothing as he shrugged and shook his head, eyes widened, non-verbally asking who I was.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, um… I was hoping that maybe I could work here?”

Barry stood up and walked over to me, giving me another once over up and down. He circled me and then once in front of me again, leaned against his desk, hand rubbing his chin in thought.

“How old are you, babycakes?”

“19.”

“Well, some of our guests like them young. But… I gotta tell ya, you got a nice set of tits but no ass.”

I looked behind myself and, I mean… it wasn’t the big butt that was all the rage or whatever.

“It gets the job done.” I replied.

He seemed to like my feistiness and willingness to spar with him verbally. He nodded and held his hands up.

“Well… let me see”

I wasn’t quite sure what he was asking right away, and then it dawned on me. I took my shirt and bra off and dropped my pants. He didn’t say anything right away, He inspected my body, looking at me like I was a piece of meat. Once satisfied, he gestured for me to put my clothes back on.

“Okay, fine. Can you dance?”

“Yes.” I lied.

“Really?” He asked, not quite believing me.

“I may not have a lot of ass to shake, but I can shake it and make it work.” I was getting a bit more confident in my voice and actions.

“Okay, a little spitfire. You know what? I’ll give you a shot. When can you start?”

“Today.” I said almost immediately.

“Okay, look, I need to get you on the schedule, so I need you to fill out some information first, considering I don’t even know your name.”

“Franchesca.”

“That’s… that’s a lot, don’t you think? We have to get you a new name.”

“Most… Most people call me “Frankie.” I said with a shrug

He still shook his head.

“We’ll figure that out. Just, go out this door and turn left, my secretary Lindsey will take care of you.”

He gestured for me to leave and I spent the rest of the night filling out application forms and giving my home address felt a little weird. Because I didn’t live there, I wasn’t going to live there anymore so, what was the point? Whatever the information had to go out and so I filled it out. I told Lindsey to just call me on my cell phone when she needed me.

I spent a couple of days in the motel, and I realized I needed to learn how to lap dance and pole dance because I didn’t know how to do either of them. I spent the nights watching twerking videos and other presumably sexy moves to use when I danced. The thing was I was doing this to no music or anything. So I was missing a part. But after about 3 days, I figured I could make it look like I knew what I was doing.

Finally, Lindsey called me and requested I show up the next day early for some training and to get to know everyone. It was a good thing too, because I was running out of money. You’d be surprised how quickly 4 thousand disappears when you need to buy everything, and you have no way of getting a large amount of stuff anywhere.

I showed up in regular clothes with my backpack now housing skimpy bikinis, stiletto heels, and lingerie. I met most of the girls working there and they seemed nice enough. I was asked what music I wanted to dance to and with only really a limited knowledge of music given I really relied on Mark and Eddie, I didn’t really know what worked.

The house music was grating and I didn’t like it. My white girl rhythm really kept me from vibing with most of the rap and pop music, but the videos I watched led me to a few selections, from the ‘80’s as it were. I re-watched the videos and realized I needed to hear the music in order to really get the vibe of everything. So, I chose some Prince songs and tried to lose myself in the music.

Turns out, I was a natural at sensual dancing and shaking my ass non-stop wasn’t really required. I practiced with a few of the girls, but I could not do pole dancing. Doing my best to avoid the pole as much as possible, but I understood the physics of it, and I was able to use the pole like it was a person, so I sort of bullshitted my way through.

I was officially on the team.

And so I began working at Fantasy Girls, and the money wasn’t bad. When you dance topless and eye fuck the customers, it becomes easy. They called me “Destiny” for whatever reason, but I felt like it fit. It sounded sexy enough, I suppose.

I made some good money, and it kept me at the motel a while longer. I usually didn’t speak to the girls much, but one of them, her stage name was “Luna” struck up multiple conversations with me. She was from out of town too. She moved from a town in Kansas. Her real name was Heather Miller. She was very kind and seemed like a genuine person.

I really didn’t say much to her most of the time as I wasn’t really into sharing a lot of information. But I did tell her I moved from Wisconsin and I didn’t know where I was going to end up. She was… being friendly to me and seemingly didn’t want anything. It was still strange to me.


One day, Heather sat next to me and shrugged before finally asking a question.

“So… where are you staying?”

I didn’t know how to answer that question, telling her a motel felt like she was going to think less of me. I didn’t really care if she did, but the initial thought was not to tell her that.

“Oh, right outside downtown.” I said.

“Yeah, but like… where?” 

“Not far from here.” I was hoping my two vague answers would suffice but they did not. Heather pressed me until I finally said I was living in a motel.

“Oh, baby, do you need a place to stay?”

“No. I’m good.”  I lied again.

Heather pressed me repeatedly to stay with her and stop paying money to a motel and save it. While she made a valid point, I didn’t want to be a burden. I was fully capable of doing this on my own. I rejected her time and time again, but it was adding off, I wasn’t always making great money, but the price of the motel kept the same. 

It was time to find somewhere else to go.

Heather let me stay with her and her boyfriend Ryan for a little while. It was nice to stay somewhere and not have to worry about paying for it, at least not financially right away. I cleaned and did laundry most times. I paid her gas money for rides to work. It was convenient and useful.

There were some days where Heather would work and I wouldn’t, so I would be home alone if Ryan went out, or sometimes he would stay and we’d be alone together. I never really saw Ryan in that light and he never really said much to me outside of a few conversations when Heather was around.

But, as the weeks went by, Ryan and I warmed up to each other, and… and then it happened.

We fucked. It was good.

Ryan was seemingly upset about this for a while, his conscience eating at him. But I never said anything to Heather and neither did he. It was a one time thing and these things happen. I mean, it wasn’t like Heather was better than me. She was fucking stripper too so… what was he going to say?

And for that matter, what was she going to say?
“You fucked a stripper?”
“Yeah. Two of them.”

And more and more when Heather was gone, Ryan and I hooked up. I could carry on without really feeling bad about it, and I could look Heather in her eye and stay her friend. She never knew about it.

Eventually, Ryan called it off and that was that. He realized he loved Heather, and she was a good person.

I was fine with it, since I had made some pretty good money at the strip club. I also made some on the side fucking the customers off the clock. I never did it while I was working, but if guys wanted to pay extra, why the fuck not?

But I still didn’t have a lot of money to really do much with, but I announced to Heather I was leaving as I was going to find a place to stay. I told her I had a lot of work to do and stuff to buy, so I would be busy, but as soon as I was set up, I’d invite her over.

Now I had to actually go through with that…


There are just parts of this game that I don’t enjoy Kayla.

You know, you had all these things you could say. You have options, you’re in control of this situation, right? So many things you could do, but instead you chose to do this nonsense. You chose to just tell me what I said and tell me that I’m wrong.

Let me ask you a question, Kayla. If I sat here and said your mother was a whore, would you come out and say “Um, actually, my mom is NOT a whore!” and think it really showed me up?

That’s what you chose to do. I asked you to give me zingers, and you gave me a book report.
On me.

You could have chosen to talk about yourself, your reign, what you have done to actually lead this division except that just have the title. And you didn’t. But I mean, I understand why that is. You haven’t done anything worth mentioning. I know, because I’ve combed through the past few months of history and found all of nothing pertaining to you doing anything noteworthy. Wait, no, you have said “I’m the champion and the leader” a bunch. But that’s lame, because you are lame. You’re fucking white bread. I used to think that you knew how this all worked and whatnot, but now I see the truth.

You are so flustered you can’t think of anything else.

I am deep inside you, Kayla. So deep. Making a nice home under your skin. You know how I know this? Because you hang on my every word. You are trying so hard to find some kind of flaw, when there’s plenty in front of you. I’m a fucked up person, Kayla. But I’ve got your panties in such a bunch you don’t even know what’s happening. So, I’ll make it really simple for you.

I don’t even want to do this, but I need to get it through your thick skull.

After all this, and everything you want to argue and debate about, you chose the title belt.

You are a bigger buffoon than I gave you credit for.

It’s not about the title itself. The gold and jewels on a leather strap is just a trinket. The title belt is nice to put in a trophy case so that when I’m old and grey, I can think about how it was a catalyst for what I’m truly after.

Because I’m not after the title belt.

I am after your title.

Do you get it?

I’m after your position. I am after your spot at the top of the roster. You can keep the spot below me. You can even carry your own replica title if you want. I’ve said it multiple times now, and you keep digging at this like I’m obsessed with the title belt itself. I am not. I said to you and everyone else, it’s a trinket, and a symbol of power. That’s the way I plan on using it. Nothing more. You can go back and watch, and maybe upon a second or third viewing you may actually understand it.

As I have already said, at the end of the day, you can win a million titles, but eventually you won’t have them anymore. Winning a bunch of titles is great, but does it mean you are the best? Because by that logic, you cannot call yourself the best. You haven’t won that title the most times, nor have you won the most titles. So how does that work?

You are making my point for me that you are defined by titles by being extra about cheating and doing everything to hold onto it. You’re putting everything on you having won titles. You think winning titles is everything there is in wrestling. You do not see the forest for the trees, Kayla. It’s not about beating you for the championship belt. It’s about beating you. That’s worth way more than anything else. The only reason you are saying these things, is because you know what I said about you is true:

Without that title, nobody cares about Kayla Richards.

Your name doesn’t have the value you think it does. Without a title, you would just be… really good wrestler Kayla Richards. You have zero defining traits.

You can sit here and lie to yourself and say your career is defined by wins, so go ahead and tell me the last significant, career-making win you had that wasn’t a title win. While we’re at it, go ahead and tell me the last significant non-title feud you’ve had. Who is the person you’ve had the most intense rivalry with and what was it over? If the answer is a championship, then it does not count. I have plenty of time for this, Kayla. I can wait all day for you to spew out a bullshit answer that you’ll have to dig deep in your archives for, and it will be something nobody remembers or cares about.

I don’t want to, but I can play that game all day Kayla. Your argument is flawed at best, and outright nonsense at worst. There I am done addressing that and I don’t care enough about whatever other key points you may have made in your presentation. The cliff notes version is you think I’m not as good as you.

I’m close, right?
Thought so.

Meanwhile, I made people give a shit about Seleana again for a couple of weeks. Do you know how hard that is? Was that over a championship? No. I raised her almost non-existent stock by being who I am. You couldn’t do that on your best day. I said things about Mikah that drove her up a wall and that wasn’t over a title. I’m making everyone remember my name, while you sit there and just hold a championship belt and think it makes you something special.

It just means you’re in the way of true progress.

I have sunk my claws into this company and division and I will change things for the betterment of… who I see fit. I came here to inject a little chaos and it has worked wonders, people are changing. You see them, sitting up a little straighter, trying a little harder. I have affected this company right under your nose. Because as far as you are concerned, you have that title belt, so it’s all good.

If you cared that much about being a leader or the figurehead of this division, you would have spoken up months ago.

I’ve done this in a little under 5 months, Kayla. You’ve been here for years, you’ve had your chance to make it better, and you have failed. Miserably.

And I have pointed this out to you and that makes you angry and upset. You are simply in denial about it, so much so that you are going out of your way to tell me how much you don’t care because you beat me already. That’s how much I have infected you. I have burrowed deep in your psyche and that’s why you want to beat me up so badly.

And that’s why I welcome it. Because I’ve mentally beaten you. After all the manipulation and poking and prodding at what you thought was an impenetrable aura, I have gotten so upset you want to tear me apart. And you will have your chance at Violent Conduct. I know you think hurting me physically will deter me, but it won’t. I welcome your abuse. I’m comfortable with it.

Are you?

Are you willing to do what needs to be done? I know that I’m willing, Kayla. I am more than happy to smash you with chairs, put you through tables and do whatever else it takes, because I’ve been doing shit like this my whole life. Learning to survive and thrive by any means necessary. Understanding what I need to do, and whom I need to step on to get where I need to go. Carrying the scars of life with me wherever I go. This is why you cannot and will not break me, and why I will beat you.

I will be the leader you could only dream of being. Your title belt will serve its purpose and it will be better used by me. There is a new order coming and I am destined to take my place as the leader of that order. The change is coming and there is nothing you can do to stop it, Kayla. You had your opportunity at Summer XXXtreme and you didn’t get the job done, because you didn’t see the bigger picture.

For you, it was about a title defense and nothing more. I told you, practically begged you to do something, anything to stop it, you were the last line of defense, and you held your ground, but you just cared about the title belt itself. Clinging to it like a security blanket. It becomes more enticing to have that title belt, just so you don’t. That becomes an additional perk to winning.

The bottom line is this, after all that’s been said and done. We meet again, and you will have those same advantages. But they mean even less now. I don’t have to be the best wrestler in the world to beat you, just willing to go further than you. Do more than you. Sacrifice more than you. And I’ve sacrificed a lot in my life to get where I need to go, and I will have no problem putting my entire body at risk to do so. I will fight you to the bitter end, Kayla. I will not hesitate to put you down for good.

I am willing to do whatever it takes to win.

So when you try to tear me apart, when you make me bleed and open me up, just know that you will have to deal with what’s inside, and what’s inside is all your failures and shortcomings. What’s inside is all your transgressions. You will come face to face with the monster you helped create.

And for those of you who are cheering me, hoping I win and see me as an underdog or some kind of role model. Trust me, I am not. When I defeat Kayla Richards, I plan on putting far more controlled chaos into this company, and many of you will not like the way it looks. I will alter this company and shape it as I see fit. Your cheers have fallen on deaf ears. I do not need them, I do not want them. In fact, save them for someone else. At the beginning of this change, many of you will hate it, and you will long for the days of free-wheeling champions who only care to help themselves.

I will help you, whether you want me to or not.

And by the time I am finished, you will thank me for it.

Trust me.

5
Supercard Archives / Chapter 6: Going My Way?
« on: September 06, 2025, 11:47:57 PM »
Here we are again.

Now, I hope that after all this, we finally make the changes necessary around here. Stop giving people chances who don’t deserve them. And now, I’m going to finally take those reins and ensure those changes are enforced.

And win the Bombshell’s title too, but that’s not the most important part.

The time is drawing near for true changes. And an era that will be defined by me. I told you I was the future, I told you I was going to change you, Sin City Wrestling.

The time is drawing near.

I need to live up to what I say I am, don’t I?

Well, as I think about how to best show you, I suppose I need to think about what makes me different.

And you know what it is? My willingness to do what is necessary. I think I need to let you know how I survived to get her, and why I do not fear Kayla Richards and I am excited to fight her again and this time with no rules.

I might be getting a little wet thinking about it.

But when I think about the things I went through, and how it has shaped me? It’s a lot to get excited about.

Let’s keep the story going, shall we?



I stood on the side of the road, watching as his tail lights disappeared in the distance.

“Fuck.”

I said it out loud and there was a wave of disbelief and incredulousness. This had to be a mistake, right? There’s no way Eddie just did this. No way he threw me out of the car. No way he threw my belongings off the interstate. And there’s certainly no way he drove off and left me in the middle of the bum fuck nowhere.

I was actually offended.

How dare he do this to me!  What the hell is going on here?

I sat there on the guardrail with the misguided hope that this was just a blow up. Eventually, Eddie would come to his senses and he would turn around and come back, and he would apologize and things would go back to normal. Cooler heads would prevail and we’d get back to figuring this whole thing out.

I gave it 10 minutes.
Then an hour.
That turned into 2.

Suddenly, it hit me: Eddie wasn’t coming back. It was the middle of the night and the roads were dead. The right side of my brain decided to wake up once the delusional thought of Eddie returning drifted away. All of sudden the emotions came pouring out in a series of statements and questions.

I have no idea where I am.
I have no way to get back home or anywhere else.
I don’t know anyone anywhere close to me.
I am lost.
Where the hell am I?
What am I going to do now?

And that’s when the left side of my brain finally chimed in.

“Well… it’s too fucking late now. We need to get going.”

I used the phone’s flashlight function and gathered my backpack, purse and duffle bag with clothes in it. And there wasn’t any other option but to walk. I didn’t have much battery left, but I turned on the GPS and found my location. In Nebraska, there was a truck stop about 13 miles away west. I had to download a compass app, and then…

I headed west.

I walked for about a mile, and maybe 3 cars were on the road at this time of night. All of them passed on the other side of the road. I didn’t have much food or water. I had a small bag or doritos and a ¾ empty water bottle and I began to realize that I didn’t have the means to really make this journey.

But I didn’t have much of a choice but to continue. I was on the highway side of the guardrail, just hoping against hope at this point that someone would come along. I began to think that I might just die out here. I was walking and it felt like I was making no progress. I wasn’t much of an athlete, and I had never walked this much in my life. My feet hurt and it began to be incredibly painful being on my feet for basically an hour straight.

Maybe 2 cars passed me as I made it to the 4 mile mark. I had 9 more miles to go but my feet were cramped and in pain. Was it 2 cars? 3? My mind was playing tricks on me. I began to think that I just needed to stop and make camp or something off the highway. I was more likely to get a ride in the morning, and rest sounded like a better option than continuing to walk into nothing. Besides, however many cars it was, they didn't seem too keen to stop and help me.

I pulled off the interstate and there was a wooded area where I stopped. I could still see the interstate, but I was far enough away that it was not going to draw much attention. I searched my backpack and one of the things I stole from one of the corner stores was a 3-pack of lighters. I gathered some leaves and sticks and lit up a fire. I put on a few layers and laid down. It didn’t take long for me to pass out.

I woke up and munched two doritos and the journey began again. Lugging a backpack, and duffle bag wasn’t the best, and I was rapidly losing strength from lack of food and water. I made the decision to finish the doritos, banking on the fact that I would find someone to give me a ride.

I at least didn’t look intimidating.

I put out what was left of the fire and began the trek. 9 miles was still a long ass walk. I stayed on the outside of the guardrail and I made it one more mile before I heard the beeping of a car horn. I turned my head as an SUV pulled to the guardrail, four-ways flashing. A younger couple got out.

“Hey, are you okay?” The man asked.

“Yeah. Just headed to the truck stop.” I answered. It was true. Partially anyway.

“Where are you headed? Why are you walking on the interstate?” The woman questioned, in a far more serious tone.

“I… I don’t know. I figure if I can make it to the truck stop, I can find a way.”

“Come on, we’ll give you a lift.” The man said, motioning to me and nodding to his … wife…girlfriend…whatever she was.

“Thank you.”

He put my duffle bag in the backseat and I got in, the SUV was roomy, and it felt so good to be off my feet and just sitting down.

“What happened to you?” The woman asked, looking back at me.

“I… I uh… broke up with my boyfriend.” I shrugged.

“And he left you on the side of the road?!” She asked incredulously.

“Yes.”

“What kind of person would do that?!” I assumed this question was rhetorical since she looked at me and the man, who also didn’t answer.

“I’m really sorry that happened to you, honey. Nobody deserves that.” She added.

“Yeah.” I said, now tiring of the conversation.

It was like 5 minutes and then he pulled into the truck stop and parked.

“Thank you for the ride. Um… I don’t really have any money really…”

“Oh, no sweetheart, you don’t need to do that.”

“So… where are you planning to go?”

“I don’t know. But here I can at least figure it out.” I said as I exited the car. They followed for a couple of seconds before the woman nudged the man, who reached into his wallet and pulled out money.

“Here. Just… stay safe?”

There were 4 $20 bills in his hand and I looked up and accepted it.

“Thank you. Really.”

The woman hugged me and I was a little weirded out. The man put his hand on my shoulder and then they waved good-bye like we were friends. I guess some people are good people. I just didn’t know how to take it, to be honest. I was so used to shitty people that genuinely good people… I thought it was fake.

I watched them drive away and headed inside. There was an outlet and thankfully, I left my charger in my backpack so I was able to charge my phone for a little bit, and then it was time for a little revenge.

I called the Nebraska anonymous tip line.

“There was a series of small robberies in your area. You are looking for a grey Chevy Camaro, Wisconsin license plate XRD-81C2. Possibly driving towards Missouri and Kansas.”


I left that, understanding that maybe I would be questioned if the police ever caught up to Eddie, but it would be a while, if ever, that something came up. I’m sure I left hair and… other bodily fluids in that car, but I was prepared for the consequences.

I used the money to buy myself some food and sat down to enjoy my food while charging my phone and weighing my options. I saw a few of the truckers wonder if, get food and eat. I knew that eventually I would have to leave this place and move on. But where would I go? What would I do when I got there? I was 18, but I didn’t have a place to stay so that was a huge problem. But this is what I was after anyway. A fresh start. That’s what this whole thing was supposed to be.

I gathered my things and went outside after my phone was charged. Like a stalker I followed a trucker to his rig and cleared my throat to get his attention.

“Can I help you?” He asked with his gruffest voice.

“I’m sorry to bother you sir, but I’m trying to get…get to… California. I was wondering if I could get a ride?”

He paused, because obviously, this was something out of a bad movie. I don't even know why I said California, but it sounded good at that moment. He looked me up and down and shook his head.

“I’m not headed to California. I’m actually headed to Denver for a delivery. Then headed back this way. I’m afraid I can’t get you to California.” He said, his tone easing and feeling a bit sorry for me.

“That’s okay. That’ll work.” I said almost too quickly.

He sighed and studied me again.

“It’s against company regulations to pick up a hitchhiker.”

“Please, sir. I’ve come so far and I will do anything. Please.”

He sighed heavily as he walked around his rig. He kept looking at me, and looking back.

“I’m on a schedule. That’s money out of my pocket if I’m off. You gonna pay me for that?” He said, hands on hips.

“I… I don’t have much money.” I said with a shrug. “But… I mean… Maybe I can do something for you? We can... work it out?”

He took a few seconds, sighing and shook his head. He opened the door and looked at me.

“Come on.” He said and I hopped up into the rig. We took off shortly thereafter.

“Why are you out here anyway?” He began after a period of silence and getting back on the highway.

“I don’t know. I’m trying to start over, I guess.”

He left it at that for a minute and then turned to continue his journey toward Denver.

“My name is Enos. Enos Parker.”

“My name is Franchesca.” I answered.

It was a 4 hour drive to Denver, and as I had learned from Earl, truck drivers are quite lonely and surly people. You spent long hours on the road, driving and nothing else. Nobody talks to you, nobody asks how your day is or if you need anything. You just drive. Some people are just built for it, but I knew Earl wasn’t and Enos was just as talkative as we drove. We talked about his family and how he drove from Nebraska to Colorado almost every week. That was his time. Same roads, same traffic, same delivery, same everything. It was monotonous, so I’m sure he appreciated the company, and I didn’t do anything but listen. That made him feel important.

Because we made some good time with traffic, he hit another truck stop about 5 miles outside of Denver. He pulled it over and unbuckled himself.

“I appreciate the ride, really.” I said, touching his shoulder and then leg.

“But I get it. I need to pay up.”

Enos was older, a bit chubby and didn’t smell the greatest. But I imagine I didn’t look like a million bucks either.

But I paid up my fee for the ride. I fucked and sucked Enos and we parted ways at the truck stop. I kissed him on the cheek as I left, thanking him for the ride and the good time. Now I had to repeat this process with a new person.

Ted was the next. He got me to Sante Fe. Sucked and fucked.
Charles brought me back up to Salt Lake City. He only wanted a blowjob, so… less work for me.
Ralph was the final man for a little while, as he got me to Reno. Sucked and fucked. Twice.

I was now in the biggest little city in the world. My experience with Earl really helped me get pretty far. And at the end of the day, I was given a few hundred dollars between them. They all thought they were doing the right thing and sending me on my way at least with something.

I had enough for a hotel and for the first time in probably 2 weeks at that point, I got a good night’s sleep in a bed, and a hot shower to go along with it. But the money wasn’t going to last forever. It wasn’t much. But I was in Reno, the next best thing to Vegas.

But technically, Reno is closer to California than Las Vegas is. Was I really going to go to Vegas first?

No. Reno would do for now.

Now, I needed to make some money.


Just when I think I’m out…

I realize that I’m better than what was in front of me and put myself back in.

I know there will be this big speech by Kayla about how she anticipated this and that’s fine. A little white lie never hurt anybody, right? No, you see truthfully, in her heart of hearts, Kayla Richards was hoping and praying that I didn’t win that disco ball battle royal thing because that meant she’d have to put on her big girl pants and have to face me again.

But unfortunately, the captain has to do a little work around here to justify her position. And she obviously didn’t want to put in that type of effort again.

Let us look back, The captain felt so threatened that she told everyone she would cheat if she needed to. She told all of you that she would outshine me. And at the end of the day, the captain threw everything she had at me and it was not enough. She knows it, and I know it. It’s one of those special things that two fighters can sense. She tried to outshine me, and show how much better she was, but… it wasn’t anything that she did that won her the match. Let’s face facts: It was thanks to my mistake, a… rookie mistake you might say, she won. I was right there, step for step move for move, cheat for cheat, with the woman who calls herself the best. But she had to try and make up for it, and hit me with her move 3 times.

You can say that you were proving a point, Kayla, but you and I know the truth. You were desperate and you knew that one would not be enough. You fucking knew it in your soul, Kayla. You had to make that shit count, more out of embarrassment than anything else.

You wanted to make sure I stayed down, and that perhaps I would be so hurt and devastated, physically and mentally by this loss that I wouldn’t want to try again so soon. You felt justified in your celebration. You had proven your point and stopped me. You thwarted my plan and I would never be able to recover and challenge you again. I was humbled! Humbled I say!

And while I wallowed in misery for oh, 30 seconds or so, I realized that I took your best shot, and I was ready to go again. And you were ready to get as far away from me as possible, thinking you had done something, and I realized what you really tried to do.

You tried to break me.

But I did not break. I was beat up, and I felt disappointed, but that was fine. But giving up and walking away because it got a little harder for me?

Who do you think I am, Andrea Hernandez?

I was not stopped, I was delayed. Only slightly.

Do you think you hurt me? Do you think you scarred me? Do you think you scared me? I have been beat up, and scarred far worse by some pretty shitty people in my life, Kayla. You kneed me in the face and you thought that was going to do it? Did you think your victory would be the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back for me?

All you did Kayla, was delay things.

Because I am inevitable.

I already showed that you are obviously worried and desperate when it comes to me, you will try and take any little advantage you can get. You will take any shortcut you can to win.

And while in most cases, that would be a quality I admire in a person, you think it makes you different and special. It does not. It just makes you more troublesome. But that’s okay, I’ve already gotten under your skin and it was far easier than even I anticipated. I gave you everything on a silver platter last time and you needed me to fuck up. And that burns you more than anything I can do or say.

You are studying me as I speak, taking copious notes, listening to me and trying to anticipate what I would say as if you have some foolproof argument that you’re going to throw out there. Do you need a gotcha moment, Kayla? Is that what this has boiled down to? This isn’t a debate. You can take all the notes you want, my message of change has always been the same. So whatever zingers you have, give me all of them. You want so badly to shut me up and send me away because it’s not fun for you anymore.

So, you want to separate already?

I have to tell you… I’m devastated. I really thought we had something, Kayla.

But I see it now. I see that you want me to go away forever because you think I’m trying to replace you. Mainly because I can do your shtick better than you ever could, but no, I don’t want to replace you. I get off knowing I piss you off and get under your skin by simply existing.

I can hear you now.
“What? I don’t care about you!”
“I’m too busy being the champion!”
“I’m too important!”

You know how I know? How many times do you want to call me a smug little shit? You know why you say that? Because you are upset by it. You’re angry at how confident I am. You’re pissed at the fact I don’t fucking sweat you. How many times do I need to hear condescendingly scold me for my actions like you are my mother? About how I could have done this one way, but instead I do it another, and it rubs you the wrong way.

I don’t even have to try.

I push your buttons and get you out of your comfort zone because I am apparently the only one in this company who won’t hesitate to call you on your bullshit and slap you upside the head and not think twice about it. And now that I know for a fact that I live rent free in your head and you want nothing more than to be rid of me…. Why would I want to replace you?

No, I want to keep you around forever. I want you right below me when I’m at the top, knowing in your heart of hearts that I took this shit from you.

Because for me, all it takes is once.

Just once and then, it doesn’t really matter anymore. If I beat you, then that’s it. You can focus all your energy, you can burn me in effigy, curse my name and swear up and down that you are still the best and then? And then, you can kick my ass all you want. Beat me within an inch of my life and show everyone how much better you are than me.

It won’t change the fact that I beat you.

That’s actually more exciting for me than winning the title. That drives me more than what you hold most dear. Just to hold that over you at any point. To rub your fucking nose in it for all times. That’s why this is so fun for me. Just once and it’s etched there forever. And taking your championship is just the icing on the cake.

At Summer XXXtreme, it was about the chance to make history, and about breaking a record. To become champion faster than anyone. That was the appeal for me in addition to beating you. But now, that is gone. And that’s okay, what I learned that day has helped tremendously. So now, the idea that I beat you and do so even this quickly is the appealing part. What it does to you. You’ve become like a science experiment now. I need to see what happens.

Perhaps you will do the stoic unaffected thing you’ve done every other time?
Perhaps there will be a crash out? Though I believe this to be highly unlikely.
Perhaps you will begrudgingly give me respect?
Perhaps you will do nothing and carry on like it didn’t happen at all?

There are so many possible outcomes and combinations, that is the big thing for me, Kayla. Your reaction to this loss. That’s why I want to beat you now. Not history, but for science!

That’s the exciting part. And it was made even better, Kayla. Because now, neither one of us have to have some sort of ladies agreement about cheating and using weapons and beating each other senseless. Nope! We get to do it and have a street fight! No rules! Anything goes! And I am fucking here for it! Whew, just thinking about it makes me all hot and bothered, So I might get a little flush in the next few moments. Just the mere thought of us fighting like that? Beating each other with sticks and chairs and all kinds of other items, man that shit gets me going!

Because that’s what I know. Pain. Been going through it my whole god damned life, Kayla.

They told me that you’ve ruled with brutality and ruthlessness. Merciless and intimidating. Oh fuck that’s good. That shit excites me. I want that in my life again, Kayla. I need you to be that way. Because that shit? That shit right there? That made me what I am today.

A survivor.

And I’m sure all this has pissed you off and you’ll be cutting through this to fire back, and that’s what I want, but I need you to listen to me.

Fuck I’m flushed.

I need you to try and fucking break me.

I need you to show me that brutality and cruelty that you have. I need that shit like an addict needs a fix. Just fucking hurt me, Kayla! Choke me! Cut me! Give me all that shit. Because  you can’t break me with pain. I am pain. I need you to give me all the pain. I need you to try and hurt me, Kayla. No rules, no disqualifications, all the god damn toys we could ever want to play with!

Fuck that’s good…

Until Violent Conduct Kayla… I will be laying awake, thinking about all that. I need you to be there for me. I want all the pain and suffering you can muster. I get off on that shit, Kayla. I will be dreaming of it. The visions of what I will do.

Beating you…
Hurting you…
Embarrassing you…

And I can do all that…

Just by winning the match.

The physical part is just an added bonus. It’s the foreplay to the climax.

And there’s gonna be a big fucking climax Kayla.

Trust me.


I say god damn that was good. I’m going to have to pet the kitty after that.

6
Climax Control Archives / Chapter 5: Run (Part 2/2)
« on: August 29, 2025, 11:57:31 PM »
I know I asked nicely.

I know I begged and pleaded for this to not continue.

But I suppose this is how things are now.

So be it.

I won a couple of weeks ago and I am being rewarded with this opportunity.

But now, I am through suggesting, or threatening or cajoling or anything like that.

I have to take charge and do this myself. I have to be the change first, in order to make it better.

I am doing this for your own good, Sin City Wrestling.

I tried to be nice. Now… we’re doing it my way.

Because sometimes in life, you make the choice, other times, the choice is made for you.



For a few good weeks, we completed “The great Nebraska random corner store crime spree” as it were. But we never gained any national headlines or anything. Not that I would think that it would have, but Eddie did see kind of bummed about it, but the fact was we were making a living doing this.

But it wasn’t going to be enough to last forever. Taking $400 on a good night from a 7-11 really wasn’t the money you think it is. It was enough to buy some food, temporary lodging, changes of clothes, and different outfits, but that was about it. We were not savvy with the money by any stretch of the imagination. What we didn’t buy, we stole. But it still wasn’t enough to really live on.

But more importantly, our relationship was hitting a very rocky stretch.

Eddie was pretty uptight and began blaming me when things didn’t always go to plan, even though he would botch the robbery sometimes, or I wouldn’t run out of the store with the right items. It became a crisis every time. Everything had to be perfect, otherwise it wasn’t good enough. Even the sex that we would have to make up for it wasn’t good enough all of a sudden.

He was changing.

Now he wanted to experiment, try new things I wasn’t comfortable with. He wanted to tie me up to the bed in the hotel rooms. Roleplay that he was a burglar coming to take advantage of me and steal my stuff. At first it was weird, then I sort of got it as it was a kink thing, and I wasn’t one to kink shame. But it soon became the only way we could do things. It wasn’t fun anymore, now it was work.

I remember when it finally came to a head.

He came into the hotel room after moving the car with the handcuffs he had purchased somewhere along the line. He tossed them at me on the bed.

“Again?” I said, rolling my eyes.

“What’s the matter?” He asked, looking disappointed I wasn’t super into this at the time.

“Why can’t we just do it normally?”

“What, you don’t like this anymore? Where’s your sense of fun and danger?”

“Babe, it’s not really dangerous if I know it’s you, it’s fun to pretend sometimes, but come on, I think we’re good now, right? Does it always have to be this way?”

Eddie looked at me, and I have never seen that level of anger in someone’s eyes. Like he was offended that I wasn’t down for this type of foreplay right at that moment.

He walked up and sat on the bed without saying a word. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the gun he used for all the robberies.

“Dude… calm down.”

He looked at, and then pointed the gun right at my face.

I backed up instinctively, but I wasn’t taking it that serious.

“Put that away.” I said, almost scolding him.

Eddie coked his head to the side, and then grabbed me by the hair and jerked me to the floor. It was so fast and strong, and it fucking hurt.

“Eddie, what the fuck that hurt!”

Eddie pointed the gun at my face and kept a hold of my hair. He spoke in a low, teeth clenched snarl.

“Shut up.”

Then he raised up the gun and made sure I could see it, high over his head and prepared to slam it down on my head. I held up my hands to try and block it, but he was acting like a fucking lunatic.

“You scared now? Huh?” He snarled at me and resumed pointing the gun at me.

“Suck my dick.” He commanded, pointing the gun and still with an extremely tight grip on my hair. I was pretty sure he pulled some out by the roots he was pulling it so hard.

“Okay, Jesus, relax.”

He kept the gun on me the entire time. Multiple times my head butted against the barrel as he kept it steady.

Afterward he attempted to spoon with me but obviously I wasn’t in the mood. He apologized and acted remorseful. Maybe he was, I wasn’t sure, it was very confusing.

The violence lust didn’t stop there though. He wanted to rob multiple places in a day. I was highly against this action, because it increased our chances of being caught. If people knew we were in the area, what little attention we had drawn would grow larger, and the last thing we both needed was more heat to have to dodge.

Then Eddie made what I believe to be a huge mistake at the time, but now that I think about it, it was a calculated choice.

After I wasn’t too keen on the idea of multiple robberies, Eddie began to backtrack and head back in an eastern direction instead of west. Why would we run back into the places we were leaving? We went back through Nebraska and then south to Kansas and then Missouri to continue, because we could hop back and forth to Kansas and Missouri via their state line quickly. He believed this would make it easier to do multiple robberies.

The first time we did this, it worked like a charm. We did one in Kansas, drove across the state line and did it in Missouri. Now we had done this in 3 states and still, it wasn’t like we were making a killing doing this. It was more of a chore than anything.

But the second time, they caught Eddie’s license plate. Now they had a lead and there wasn’t a way to really get away with it. We drove north to Iowa where we laid low for a bit, sleeping in the car and walking to places to get fast food that were within an easy walking distance to avoid being spotted in the car.

There weren’t a lot of places to go, so now Eddie devised another plan: Rob truck stops.

This plan was also incredibly risky, because the truck stops usually had truckers who were armed. Charlie’s friend Earl showed me the inside of his truck a time or two, and he had multiple handguns and a shotgun in case anyone tried to rob his truck or run him off the road.

I advised that this wasn’t the best idea and Eddie again got frustrated with me, implying that I never wanted to go with his plans and I never came up with one myself.

“You know what we should do? Rest stops. Not truck stops.”

Eddie seemed to like the idea and demanded I told him more.

“Well, I mean, think about it, there’s going to be a Popeye’s, Dunkin’ Donuts and a BK all the same spot. That’s three robberies, and because they jack up the prices on the food, there’s presumably more money.”

This seemed to make sense in Eddie’s head, so we commenced to doing just that.

Along the highway, traveling between the four states and then back into Illinois, we hit up 3 rest stops and made about $5000. Eddie was so pleased with this.

But now things were getting out of hand.

He wanted to go all cowboy and go in with no mask or anything. He would brandish his weapon and get caught on camera all the time at this point. Now he was making himself famous, by getting incredibly sloppy. We had to have a talk and get things back on track. I made him pull the car over on the side of the road one faithful night.

“Eddie, what the hell are we supposed to do now?”

“What? This was your idea!”

“Eddie, you’re not even bothering trying to hide anymore. You want to go full Bonnie and Clyde on this? We have to figure something out more permanent. We cannot keep going like this, or we’re both gonna end up dead or in jail!”

Eddie was again angry and frustrated. He knew that he fucked up but he didn’t want to admit it.

“This was your idea, you wanted to do this. Don’t go backing out now, Jelly! You can’t do that. You don’t want to do that. This was us. This was OUR thing. Don’t mess it up now! We’re having the time of our lives, right?”

“No. Eddie, YOU are having the time of your live. We cannot continue to do this. The cops are going to be after us and all it takes it one of us walking into the wrong place or getting spotted by the wrong person and the cops will be at our door and we’ll be fucking done.”

Eddie started laughing, it wasn’t a comforting laugh either. It was sinister. Malice filled his eyes as he exited the car and walked around to my side. He opened the door and just as quickly pulled me out, nearly tossing me on the ground.

“What are you doing?”

Eddie said nothing and began taking all my belongings and tossing them over the guardrail into the field on the side of the car. He launched my backpack and other clothes, scattering them everywhere.

“What the fuck, Eddie!”

He pointed the gun at me, and held it on me as he walked back around and got inside, he pulled the passenger door shut and locked it.

“I should have done this a long time ago and left your ass in Wisconsin. We’re done!”

“Eddie! Wait!”

It was all I could get out before he drove all, peeling out and leaving me on the side of the road, in the dark with just my stuff.

It took hours with no light, but I gathered all my stuff, a suitcase and backpack were all I had now.

I was on my own.

I was on the run.

Maybe I should have been from the very start.



Let me see if I understand this correctly.

A coward walks away from her match. So, we have to scramble to give the people a Bombshell’s title match. And what we come up with is the following.

Seleana Zdunich, the biggest lost cause on the roster.
Cassie Wolfe, perhaps the most NPC wrestler in this company other than Seleana.
Victoria Lyons and Alexandra Calaway, two women who not two weeks ago, received a contendership match and lost.
Crystal Caldwell, who hasn’t wrestled a match in over a month.

And then there’s me.

Thanks for throwing me a bone, I guess.

I mean, I’m just very confused and this entire lineup is hard to swallow as credible and viable for our captain. Aside from me of course. I have asked, ney, demanded over and over again that we stop rewarding mediocrity with things like this. Seleana is a waste of everyone’s time and energy. She fucking sucks. Cassie Wolfe also sucks and hasn’t done anything of value her entire time in this company, and just lost to Alicia Lukas.

Crystal Whatever-her-last-name-is-this-week hasn’t wrestled since Summer XXXtreme in a match, where she also lost. But sure, let’s just reward her based on shit she did like a decade ago. No, I’m sorry, two years ago. Crystal is a human cockroach who continues to come back, time and time again, and then ditches this place, ditches her fans, friends and, lovers over and over and over, and like you have fucking battered wife syndrome, you keep taking her back. And not only do you take her back, you reward her, simply for existing.

STOP. IT.

Victoria Lyons and Alexandra Calaway just lost a contender’s match two weeks ago. This, for all intents and purposes, should push them to the back of the line, yes? Is that not how contendership works around here? I wasn’t given a rematch against Kayla Richards, nor did I deserve one. So why do Alexandra and Victoria deserve one? The simple answer is, they don’t. If you lost your last match, you should not be in this match at all. So it should really just… be me.

My last match was a victory. Over Seleana, who for some reason is in this fucking match. Do you see how this doesn’t make any god damn sense? Why isn’t Kate Steele in this match? Why not Alicia Lukas. You know, people who actually win?

Why are rewarding consistent failures? I need this explained in like a full TED talk or something, because it boggles my fucking mind. I am the only recent winner here. You might think it’s a flimsy rationale, but it has more weight to it than anyone else’s argument here.

Obviously, Seleana has no argument for being involved in this match. None. When was the last time she even won a match? Like ever? I mean, we have to roll back the clock something like over 2 years, don’t we? Maybe longer. I have asked, practically begged you to stop giving Seleana anything resembling chances like this. You are only enabling her to not put in any effort because she is well aware you feel bad for her being treated like a piece of trash by Crystal. It’s time we all just fucking get over it. Stop placating her. She’s never going to make the change if you don’t. Stop letting her try and re-live her 5 minutes in the spotlight that was for a couple of weeks 5 years ago. If you really want that back so badly, then go watch it on demand on the SCW archive channel. This is the last time it should be said.

Stop. Giving. Seleana. Chances.

Cassie’s argument might just be that she got in the match by mistake. For a little bit there, I was unaware of what to actually make of Cassie Wolfe, because she’s so generic that it’s almost impossible to get anything to work with. Look at me, I’m Cassie Wolfe, I smoke weed! I’m… Australian? I could make several jokes about dingos, babies and shrimps on the barby and all that, but it’s just not worth it. Everything about Cassie Wolfe just makes me disinterested. If people walked past Cassie Wolfe on the street, It’s not even that they wouldn’t look twice, it’s that they would look, and wait for something interesting or exciting to happen, but then… nothing. Nothing but bitter disappointment. It’s literally her whole career so far. So when you have an entirely forgettable person hanging around, sometimes they get so lost in the shuffle then end up on the top of the deck from time to time. 

But please let’s not confuse things here Cassie, just because you wind up in these spots by complete happenstance, doesn’t mean you deserve them. You’re going to lose this one too, and then float around aimlessly until someone else throws you a bone and then you’ll lose that too, and the cycle will repeat. It will always repeat because you are not good enough to break out of it. If you were, you’d be able to beat people consistently instead of falling ass-backwards into opportunities.


When you lose to fucking Bella Madison, you can’t say shit to me. You have no argument. You had your chance, you blew it. Your planning and scheming and all the things you thought you were going to do, blew up in your face. I mean, let’s just hypothetically say that Victoria or Alexandra had won two weeks ago. And then they lost to the Captain. Then obviously you wouldn’t give them this chance. But they didn’t even fucking make it that far!  So no, neither Alexandra or Victoria have any sort of argument on this. They had their chance, and failed. They should both be thanking their lucky stars or whatever god they prey to that they were lumped in here.

Again, we appear to be rewarding people for the past. Victoria had one year as Roulette champion, and it’s over. She gets a chance to move up, and fails. And now, we’re… doing it again? Why? On the strength of that Roulette title reign?

I mean, if we’re going to argue this shit, I beat her prior to my own title match, and I won the Blast from the Past.

Neither of which should hold any bearing on this, right? So let’s not put on the front like Victoria deserves this in any way more than me. She does not, and never will. She was ahead of me, and now she is not. The reality is, she shouldn’t be on the same level as me at this point. I am going to prove to her once and for all that the past doesn’t shape the future. I told you all I was the future and I meant that shit. And when I finally do change things the way they should be, for the betterment of everyone… she will see that trying to stop the inevitable was a waste of her time and that where I place her will be the best spot for her.

Alexandra is in the same boat. Except she doesn’t have a random title reign in the past 6 months to brag about. She’s been doing her best Lilth Locke impersonation because everybody is just a dark, twisted soul because it’s just so cool and mysterious and fun, right? Every woman’s fantasy of just being this kick ass femme fatale while playing the coy little woman who wouldn’t hurt a fly. Because you can just pretend. Pretending is fun. And when the mood strikes, you can be that ass-kicker and talk tough about the things you will do and what you are capable of, and it’s okay, because it’s pretend.

Only when Alexandra says those things, nobody believes her because she has never been able to back them up at any point.

Her title wins can basically be called a fluke since there has been nothing for an entire year since then, despite chance after chance, opportunity after opportunity. No matter what has happened, Alexandra has been on the outside looking in. So now, I have to ask, what the hell happened to the ass kicking femme fatale? What happened to the twisted bitch who plays with fire? Where did her balls go? It’s so disappointing to see people build themselves up so much, only to fail time and time again and expect to be taken seriously. Again, when I get what I need, things will change. And people like Alexandra will be put in the place that they belong. I’m going to give her a prime example by tossing her out of my club for whatever silly thing we’re doing here on Sunday. And then she will be able to play pretend all she wants, in the confines of where it’s best for her and everyone else.

And for damn sure, Crystal whoever has no argument. You know, when I first thought about this, I was annoyed. O-M-G It’s Crystal whatever back again, and she’s suddenly trying again after months, if not years of the same lax disposition. Crystal only tries when there’s something to gain. Only when she thinks she can rebuild her image and somehow untarnish her legacy. It’s the same cycle that has been repeated for what… the last… 8-10 years? It’s a waste of my time and energy.

But.. Then I had an epiphany.

I did. I realized that I shouldn’t be angry at having you do this. I shouldn’t feel annoyed.

She is… Crystal… What is it this week? Caldwell. Yes. Billion time world champion in companies all over the globe. She has done it all, and practically everyone with a pulse, to get where she is today. I mean, right now, I am honored.

I don’t think in the history of the world, not just wrestling, the entire world, there has been a bigger two-faced, backstabbing cunt than her.

I admire her. I really do.

The trail of bodies she has left in your wake will give some infectious diseases a run for their money. The fucking black plague has nothing on that girl. That’s fucking amazing. I wish I was at that level.

Much like Kayla, she is obsessed with the leather and gold that title belts have. It’s really what she cares about. You can talk about “Stealing the show” or being the “silver screen queen”  or whatever the new tag line is as you leech off of… Mercedes Vargas? Wait, really? Leeching off another leech? You know something? I think Crystal may have done my job for me. Because let’s face it, nobody wants Crystal to even be in this company at this point. She, at times, appears to be self-aware that she is unpopular, and the only thing we have to wonder about is which side of the coin she will play. Will she come out and tell all of us that she’s sorry and build our trust just to do the same shit again, or say that she deserves this because of her past accomplishments and justify her words and actions.

Because that’s how that works.

You see, if you call Crystal out for being the narcissistic, hypocritical, uncaring, shallow, hollow, shell of a person she is, and then she beats you in a match, then all the things you said, no matter how true, can simply be dismissed. It’s weird. Does that work in other ways too? If I wrestled Crystal, and she had a broken hand, and then she beat me, does that mean her hand isn’t broken? I don’t know, it just seems weird.

How do you apologize one time and then try and own it the second time? Bitch, just fucking own it and never go back to it. You either go big or go home. Because at the end, the circle always completes and she is outed one way or another.

The flip-flopping shit was cute at one point, but now it’s old and tired, like her.

It is time to make the change before this type of shit happens again. I am going to take all these bitches and chuck them to the floor, and then I have a special date with my captain one more time.

Sin City Wrestling we cannot afford to continue to reward mediocrity anymore. This is why I must be allowed to take control. Things must be standardized and everything will be so much better. Isn’t that what you want? My order will be so much better for everyone. I am the only one capable of doing this. I am in this match because I deserve to be, and not one of the other cunts do. It’s that simple.

I will take this victory, and then I will take my right spot at the top of the mountain.

And then a new order will begin, and it will be glorious.

Trust me.

7
Climax Control Archives / Chapter 5: Run (Part 1/2)
« on: August 15, 2025, 11:57:50 PM »
What is this? Two losses in a row?

Maybe I should just pack it in.

This isn’t as fun as it used to be.

But this week just feels wrong. It feels sad. I don’t feel like this is a week for a rebound, I feel like I’m being thrown a bone while other people just get random championship matches. This needs to stop. That is why I’m not packing it in and quitting. I could have, but I realize now this place needs me more than ever! I cannot sit idly by while this place continues its nonsense and the directionless float along longer.

I promise you, Sin City Wrestling, I’m going to change you. Obviously the fast track part didn’t succeed, but more and more this place becomes orderless and our champion, our leader, the captain, just goes about her business. This is just unacceptable.

Sometimes, you have to make some drastic changes.

I know from experience.

Trust me.



We had been gone for a week.

Eddie and I had a little bit of money between us, but without a plan and no real direction, the money was only going to last so long. We ate at little diners and only stopped for gas. We had no idea where we were even going. We just knew that so long as we were headed in a direction, it was the correct one. We drove through Wisconsin, into Iowa. Gas was still expensive, as was food, water and other essentials. We had to get off the highway and use truck stops and their showers to bathe ourselves. We clearly didn’t plan this properly.

We continued to drive through Iowa and eventually hit Nebraska. We were certainly in the rural area of the country. Just long stretches of road. Also Eddie’s Camaro wasn’t the best travel vehicle when it came to gas mileage. It became increasingly desperate that we find somewhere to stop and actually figure things out.

We made the choice to finally get a motel room since we hadn’t slept in a bed since we ran away. It felt strange to be sleeping in a bed that wasn’t mine, but at the same time, I just loved having a bed period. Sleeping in a car was awkward and clunky. But as nice as this was, it was only temporary. We had to have that conversation.

“What do we do now, Eddie?”

Eddie was looking outside, lost in thought, presumably trying to answer that very question himself.

“We can’t keep going like this forever.” I added, which was a useless statement, I’m sure Eddie was well aware of that. I felt stupid for saying that as soon as it left my mouth. “I.. I’m sorry.”

Eddie didn’t saying anything and then finally turned back to me and hugged me.

“I got it figured out.” He said with a sly grin.

“You do?”

“Yup. You stay here and relax. I’ll be back in a little bit.”

Eddie kissed me and then, just like that, before my brain could form the next sentence, he was out of the room, down the hall and getting into his car. I watched him from the window just… speed off and into the night.

He was gone for over an hour and I had no clue where he was. I played on my phone for a little while to pass the time, but as the time kept going, I began to worry, What in the world could he be doing at this point?

Finally, I saw the headlights turn into the motel again and he pulled into the same spot. He got out and moved his seat and came out with a big grocery bag. My initial thought was, there wasn’t a need for the dramatic exit if he was just going to a local supermarket or something. I then noticed his walk in a way I hadn’t before. He looked like he was walking on his tip toes. A very pronounced lean. I kind of noticed it before, but didn’t really pay attention to it. He walked with a hurried pace and came in the room. He was sweating and still breathing heavier than normal.

“What was that about? Where did you go?”

“I got us some stuff.”

He emptied the bag and there was food, some charging cables, air fresheners, body wash and other odds and ends, and at the bottom, money which was loose fluttered out.

“Where did you get this stuff?”

“Gas station.”

I figured as much, but that didn’t explain the cash. Then I noticed there was something on the money, and the bag itself.

Little red splotches.
Drying but still moist.
Blood. Clearly blood.

“Did… did you rob the gas station?” I said in a whisper as I had put two and two together.

He looked at me and his eyes then darted all over the room, looking for an answer, or to find the words.

“I didn’t have a choice.”  He finally admitted.

“Eddie, there was probably security cameras all over that place!” I scolded.

He shook his head.

“Took care of them, and the backup tapes.” He nodded with an accomplished grin.

“Shit. We’ve gotta get out of here.” I whispered and began to pack up my things.

“We’ll be fine.” Eddie said, now coming down off his adrenaline rush. “Nobody’s gonna know.”

I looked at Eddie when it hit me as to what that statement actually meant.

“Did you kill the guy?” I needed confirmation.

“Like I said, didn’t have a choice.” He said, very matter of factly.

I sat down in the bed to try and compute all this and what the risks now were. I had never seen this side of Eddie. He now had this… aura of bad ass about him. And maybe I’m a little sick in the head for feeling the way I did, but it turned me on. Eddie would do anything to ensure we got what we needed. It was re-assuring and for at least a little bit, we would not need to worry about money. We were desperate, we needed drastic action and Eddie had provided it.

Eddie was staring at me as I was going over everything in my head. His unwavering gaze finally broke my concentration.

“What?” I asked.

“You’re not… freaking out.”

‘Not externally.”

“But I’m saying, you don’t seem too.. Messed up about it. Like you’re kinda chill.”

“One of us has to keep a clear head, Eddie. Especially since you probably killed a dude just now.”

“But like… you’re not… mad at me?”

“I’m fucking furious at you, Eddie! You could have been spotted, noticed or hell, the dude may have even killed you! The cops may be on their way here! That’s why I think we need to go! I just have to keep my head before this gets out of hand."

“We’re good. I promise. At least for a little while. Let’s just sleep on it and then tomorrow, we’ll get outta here. We should be good for that long.” He said, comforting me as he sat down on the bed, rubbing my shoulders and kissing my head.

“We have to keep going though. We can’t stop now.” He said, whispering it in my ear, but it was not a comforting tone.

 In fact, it really even wasn’t a suggestion, more like a command.

 I understood how he meant it though. We had crossed a line. I was an accomplice at this point. My hands had blood on them. But we needed it. And now, we had it.

“I know. Just do me a favor next time.” I said, looking up at him.

“Yeah?”

“Take me with you.”

We lusted after each other and that was a great fuck. There’s many I’m not proud of for one reason or another, but that one was fucking great.

The next day, I woke up early and peeked out of the window, just to make sure cops weren’t surrounding the motel. Perhaps Eddie did get away with it. I walked over to where Eddie was and knocked over his boots. A rattle from the boots woke Eddie up. I looked down at the boots and there were crushed soda cans on the floor. They spilled out of the boot along with some tissues.

You see, Eddie wasn’t the tallest guy in the world, he was only like 5’11” or something. So he used the tissues and crushed cans to make himself appear taller. I didn’t understand it at first, but it was… something.

We packed up, and left, heading further west into Nebraska and really just thinking about the next time we would need to rob somebody or someplace, and what we could do to make it easier.

But Eddie began to change even more. He drove recklessly at times, I never knew he had a pistol in his car, but he did. He kept it under his seat and would often pull it out and stare at it if I drove. He would get very defensive and almost paranoid if I brought up that first job. He became demanding of me and it began to rub me the wrong way. I realized that we needed to do another job soon, because that seemed to mellow him out.

We came up with a strategy. Eddie would drop me off across the road or further down in the parking area if there was a plaza or something. I would walk in first, act like a normal customer, and bring things we needed, like a first aid kid, and other stuff up front and if there was a line, I stood in it, texting him to come in in 30 seconds or so, if not, we would have it timed. If there was a camera, I made sure to crouch, kneel, and generally keep out of the sight of the lens if I could.

Eddie would burst into the storm, ski mask and hoodie and demand money. If it was just me, I would dash out of the store “panicked” and run off with items. I’d wait in a nearby alley or maybe run a block away and hide, or since Eddie had a second key, I would run to the car and drive off.. Eddie would get the money, since a 7-11 cashier isn’t about to die for their job. And Eddie would run out, and I’d pick him up and we’d get out of there.

It was a great team effort. Our own little crime spree.

But the team was quickly falling apart…



Really?

Do you really want me to do this again?

More importantly, why are you subjecting poor Seleana to this level of abuse? She gets enough of that from her own relationships. This just seems cruel at this point. It’s a waste of my time and really her time for me to subject her to more spoonfuls of the truth. They are all things she already knows and cannot change.

Seleana is a sad, pathetic soul trapped in this never ending cycle of fear and failure. No matter what you do, no matter how many times you let her step up the plate, she’s going to strike out, and most of the time, she’s going to strike out looking. Won’t even take the bat off her fucking shoulder. She is resigned to the fact that her peak was with someone else helping her. And now that person, also saw her as dead weight and moved on. I would feel bad for her, but at this point, I think she’s just comfortable wallowing in self-pity and misery.

She is going to lay back and take the abuse that anyone, myself included will hurl in her direction. Fuck guys, everybody knows this by now. She will never achieve success on her own. When was the last time any of you were impressed by anything done by Seleana? When she smacked Christian Underwood? Again, that was in defense of a person who later left her for dead and put her in the state she’s in now. That’s where we have stood for… how many years at this point? She continues to assume that Crystal will come back and be a part of her life again. She holds out hope that Crystal will see the error of her ways and have this massive epiphany and go “I threw away something special with Seleana. Let me get back with her!”

That’s just never going to happen. Unless for some reason Crystal sees another way to try and manipulate and abuse Seleana before doing it yet again. Which would be just as hilarious as it is sad.

And given the state that Seleana is in, why would Crystal come back to her? Crystal needs someone to prop her up so she looks better than she is. Seleana is not going to provide that, since she cannot even provide for herself. Seleana can’t even make Seleana look presentable at this point. She cries and has pity parties for herself, hoping against hope that it will change things, when deep down, she knows it won’t.

Seleana is a victim. Now and for all intents and purposes… forever.

There isn’t a match, or an opponent that appears able to snap her out of this, though you can create quite the list of people that have tried. I am already on that list. I just didn’t pussyfoot around the issue. And now the exact same thing is happening to Diamond Caldwell, and nobody gives a shit about that either.

And now, you want to parade Seleana out here again? What do you expect to be different this time? What do you think she’s going to do? You think that because I’ve lost a couple of matches that Seleana will pounce on that fact and beat me? Just so… what? You grant her another opportunity and she strikes out again? So she marches to a championship match and fails and starts all over again?

Let me make this perfectly clear so that everyone understands this: Seleana is a lost cause. It is over for her. Stop doing this to her. You are doing her more harm than good.

Seleana, listen to me.

You’re going to walk out to the ring on Sunday, and I’m going to beat you. I’ve already done it once, the only difference will be, there won’t be anyone for you to tag out to, to also get their ass kicked. I will do my best to make this quick. Not painless, but very quick. You and I both know this is not your game anymore, not that it ever was. But this should, hopefully, spell it out for you in a way that even you can understand.

You are stuck on this hamster wheel, and everybody and their mother has tried to get you to see this, some have encouraged you, some have scolded you. At this point, you have chosen to be like this. You have chosen to be the victim and lament your past. I don’t have the time or the patience to explain this shit to you any further. I, much like Crystal, will be leaving you behind and moving forward.

You have many opportunities, more than you deserve to change your status. You have made the most out of none of these chances. You will continue to flounder and be a stepping stone for people like me who are far more important to the future than you are. You are just… here. Like I told you before. You don’t live, you exist. You simply consume oxygen and get paid to do a job that you aren’t good enough to succeed in. That’s who you are. You are perpetually trapped and I for one, no longer care to see you in chains, because no one is holding you in those chains but you. I refuse to help someone who cannot help themselves.

You will carry my message that we stop giving chances to people who do not deserve them. We stop catering to people who do one thing one time and get rewarded while the rest suffer. Those who are unworthy will no longer get such chances after this. Times are changing around this company and in the end, it will be for the betterment of it. We need to cut dead weight. We need to move you to your proper place. I’ve done this already multiple times, and I can assure you, I am quite efficient at it.

Therefore, destroying you and moving on, is the most humane thing I can do. And it is what I will do. And then with any luck, Sin City Wrestling will stop giving you chances and understand that it’s not worth it.

You just aren’t worth it. This, for the last time, will be for your own good.

Trust me.

8
Climax Control Archives / Chapter 4: The Chains Of Love (Part 2/2)
« on: August 01, 2025, 11:47:21 PM »
Oh no. I lost. Everything I have worked for in 5 matches is now gone.
Whatever shall I do?

It took me 3 matches to gain a Bombshell’s championship match.
I have had 5 matches in my pro career.

Correct me if I’m wrong, because goodness knows I can be, but I believe losing that match is the result of a “rookie mistake.”

Make no mistake about it, I’m a rookie. Again, the whole 5 match thing should have been a dead giveaway, but I suppose I am just so wise and skilled beyond my level of experience that people mistook me for some savvy veteran. I am a rookie wrestler. This is my first year of actively competing., I made a mistake, and I will more than likely make others along my journey. So, I’m not disheartened by losing. In fact, I almost expected it. I figured I had done enough to push Kayla Richards buttons, but in the back of my head, I took into account that yes, this could backfire.

Is it frustrating? Sure. I wanted to set a record, but at the end of the day, it’s a learning experience. I understand now that Kayla knows I have her number and can compete with her. She didn’t outshine me. She didn’t outclass me. She won because I made a mistake. She simply wanted to cement the win and now is acting like she kicked my ass. Which is fine. She knows the truth, and so do I.

But the question becomes where do I go from here after such a devastating loss?! How will I ever recover from this? I am at the back of the line.

Simple. Just win more matches. I like to think I’m pretty good at this thus far.

But I had to learn a lot of things the hard way.



“You made the right decision, Jelly.” 

Eddie’s words hung in the air as I sat silently as we drove away from the only home I’d ever known. Eddie always called me “Jelly’ because he said we went together like peanut butter and jelly. I found it strange at first, but the more he used it, the more it stuck. We were a team and we had just faced a huge obstacle, and now I was free. It was April, and I still had to go to school, but that felt completely insignificant at that moment. Why bother? I wasn’t happy there and I needed time to absorb everything I was now facing.

I was kicked out of my home with very few possessions. The things I threw in a backpack.

“We can maybe come back some other time and get the rest of your stuff.” He added, but I never felt up to responding.

Weirdly, while I was emotionally torn, I didn’t cry, I didn’t really feel anything. I know I should have, given what happened. My own father pointed a gun at me. Telling me to get out of his house, leaving my pill-popping mother to her own devices. I was on my own. But I felt nothing.

We pulled up to Eddie’s house and he had to break the news to his mother that I was going to be staying a while. I had met his mother a couple of times, but only in passing. I never had any sort of lengthy conversation with her. It was “Hi” and “Bye” most of the time.

“You are more than welcome to stay with us.” She said warmly and sincerely.

“Thanks.” I just replied with a shrug.

Eddie’s folks had a spare bedroom they were pretty much just using for some extra storage, but I made it my own. It felt very awkward and almost wrong to sleep in that bed for like the first week. I was still in shock and mostly numb, but Eddie’s mom would always check on me. At first, it felt weird, and then it felt kind of normal. She bought me new clothes so I wasn’t sitting there in the same 4 shirts and 2 pairs of jeans.

We never actually went back to pick up anything else. I didn’t think I could return to the house. And Charlie didn’t really know Eddie, and neither did my mother. It was more of a risk for anyone to go back there. It was best left alone.

I eventually just stopped going to school. I would get dressed and Eddie would drive me to school on his way to his dad’s garage, but I would just find somewhere else to go. This freedom was odd to me, but I just started exploring. I went to dog parks and the library and things like that. It didn’t matter, the school sent things to my old house, and they knew I was gone.

Eddie would stay long hours with his dad. He was doing something he loved. He loved cars. He loved working on them, and talking about them. He would pick me up from school and he would chat my ear off about his day and the cars and what was wrong with them. I sort of learned through just listening to the basics of auto repair how to do it. Eddie loved that I took an interest in it, though I don’t think it would have mattered if I wasn’t listening anyway. Eddie just loved cars.

But I wasn’t really accomplishing much sitting in my room and sulking after I stopped going. Eventually I had to let Eddie know that I just wasn’t interested in school anymore. He at first didn’t seem to like it, but he eventually supported it. I just found myself trying to find stuff to do, and I would always just come back to watching wrestling and finding my favorites and living vicariously through them.

Eddie’s mom walked in one day and sat down on the bed.

“So, Franchesca, how long are you planning to stay?” She asked, more pointedly than anything she’d ever asked me.

“I… I don’t know. I don’t have much.” I replied.

“I know that. I said you were welcome to stay, but what do you plan to do?”

“I don’t know. I’m trying to figure that out.”

[color=fae7b5]“We can call your parents and see if they will take -

“NO.” I knew what she was getting at. “I don’t want to go back.” I added, as sternly as possible.

“Well, I’m just saying you can’t stay here forever. At some point you’re going to have to figure something out.”

“I know.” I acknowledged with a nod. She wasn’t trying to get rid of me, at least not directly. This was a gentle shove in that direction though.

Eddie and I grew pretty close, but his mom was really beginning to short of try and drive me away. I had to talk to Eddie about the whole thing.

I did some work to help Eddie’s mom keep the house clean, just to make it feel like I was pulling my own weight. I helped with dishes and did laundry and whatever else I could to help. But it began to just annoy me that his mom was so impatient. It had been barely 2 months and she was pushing me out. I also began to notice Eddie was constantly checking on me, even when I wasn’t even doing anything. I’d look up and he’d be there. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. He was being extremely generous and I guessed he was just that worried about me. But when I’d see him, he’d just wave or say hi and that would be the end of it.

Finally I had to have a talk with Eddie.

“So, your mom is being super pushy lately.” I began. “She’s trying to get me to leave.”

“Nah, she’s just making sure you’re good. I mean, you don’t have school anymore, and you don’t have a job so… You know, you gotta do something.”

“I don’t know what I want to do. But your mom is making it very uncomfortable. I feel like I’m not welcome at this point. This is a very confusing time for me.”

“I know that.” Eddie said, rubbing my shoulder. “We just want to make sure that you have something.”

It felt strange that Eddie was taking his mom’s side in this, when it was clear to me that she wanted me out of the house. I guess I just didn’t understand family loyalty, even at 18. Because nothing in my life ever lasted, and now this was about to go away too.

So, I began to try and find a job.

Eddie’s mom bought me a dress to go to interviews with, and I began walking around when there would be a local job fair. And as it turns out, job fairs are entirely useless. There’s people there, and all they do is give you a pamphlet, or an application which they printed out and tell you it’s easier to just apply online. But there wasn’t anything of worth on my resume. I had done nothing, and I had literally no degrees or even a high school diploma.

Finally, I just started saying I had a diploma. Nobody was going to check that shit anyway. I even applied to work at Wal-mart’s and 7-11’s just so I had something. I got one, finally at a Burger King, so yes, for a little while, I did put the fries in the bag. I always came home smelling like BK. I hated it. This wasn’t what I meant to do. I just didn’t know how to change it.

The issue then became just how Eddie and I never saw each other. It was a big pain. We lived together, but we never actually were together at any point to even act like we were in a relationship. We lived with his parents. And so I began to feel suffocated in this relationship. We had nothing. Eddie was working with his dad, so he wasn’t really around, and it was only in the car that we ever got to talk amongst ourselves.

“How much longer can we do this?” I asked one night as he was driving me home.

“Do what?”

“Live with your parents. This was supposed to be about us, Eddie. Not your family.”

Eddie looked at me, confused and a bit angry.

“What more do you want me to do, Jelly? Leave? You want me to just leave my family and go who-knows-where with you?”

“Yes.”

Eddie was silenced for a minute. He just looked at me, not believing that I had said it out loud. He didn’t know how to respond.

“This is the life we need, Eddie. Do you really want to be stuck working for your dad your whole life? We can do so much better.”

Eddie was listening to me. He didn’t want to, and didn’t really see the issue that I had

“Every day, we do the same thing. This isn’t us. We can be so much more.”

“Like what?” He finally asked.

“I don’t know, but it’s better than this.”  I answered. “It has to be.”

Eddie really didn’t want to go there. We drove back to his house and he didn’t really talk to me for the next few days. I tried to give him space, since that’s all we really had. 

I was in my room, just messing around on my laptop and I heard the argument happening. Eddie was standing up for me to his parents. A little joy filled my heart. Maybe it was manipulation, but Eddie seemed to be the only person who cared about me without some string attached. Eddie repeatedly told his parents they didn’t understand me. How I needed time and I was different and all that. He really understood me. It was hot.

The fight was loud and I pretended like I didn’t hear it. It spanned quite a long time. Too long for me to act like I didn’t hear it by that point. I walked out into the living room, and was met with deafening silence.

“I’ll just… get my stuff.” I said.

Eddie and his mother stared at me, and then at each other, both angry and annoyed.

“Franchesca, I.. “

“No. It’s fine. I get it.” I stopped her.

I walked in and began gathering my things, now with even more stuff thanks to Eddie’s mom, and Eddie himself. Eddie’s mom came in and tried to stop me.

[color=fae7b5]“You don’t have to go anywhere. I’m sorry.”[/color]

I ignored her and kept packing. Eddie came in a few moments later.

“Frankie, come on. We -”

“We’re all good, Eddie. I’m sorry I did this.”

“Franchesca, it’s okay. Really.”

I finished, my backpack and a box in my arms as I exited the house. Eddie’s dad hadn’t said a word about this, so he and Eddie’s mom got into an argument. I heard it start up as I walked down the street.

I had no idea where I was going to go, but I realized I didn’t want to work at BK, and I wanted Eddie to be with me. But now, all of that was gone.
Or so I thought.

I had been walking for about an hour give or take when I heard the roar of the engine of Eddie’s car. He came hauling ass up the road and stopped beside me.

“Frankie, come on.”

“I’m not going back, Eddie.”

“You don’t have to. Neither am I.”

I turned and eyed him.

“Really?”

“Yes. I promise. We’ll go wherever you wanna go.”

For a long time I didn’t trust that. He opened the door, and I saw a box in his backseat. I knew then, he meant it. Eddie was leaving with me. I got in the car, excited for what was next.

“So… where are we going?” I asked?

“I don’t know. We’ll get there when we get there.”

And then, we drove off. I had to admit, now I was turned on. It was incredible what he had done for me. I wanted him so bad. I reached my hand between his legs and he got the point. We drove off somewhere, I don’t know where, nor did I care at that point. Clothes were pulled of, the car got really steamy and Eddie took me right then and there.

And I got a glimpse of the red flags that awaited me…

Yes, indeed, the chains of love are heavy.
[/color]

Kate Steele.
Kath-lyn Steele.
Diamond Steele.
Ruby Steele.
Real Steele.


Those are all you, right? Was one of them not you? I feel like one of them wasn’t. Yeah, now I remember, like Ruby was somebody different, right? I have to tell you, I don’t quite remember there have been so many changes.

Anyway, you know Kate, I love a good identity crisis story. I really do. Have you ever seen “Split?” It’s this movie about a guy who has 23 different personalities. Is that your thing? No, wait, no. It’s not that. You don’t have an identity crisis Kath-lyn. You don’t even have an identity at all.

But, to be fair, that’s what makes you so unique. The whole thing you do where you just adjust your whole persona to be something else when the mood strikes? It’s so cool. You are an inspiration in that department to people like me. You know, people who struggle to fit in, people who just have too strong of a sense of pride or dignity to just change who they are to fit in. You have shown them the way. You have told everyone “Fuck all that!” and I’m here for it. You are a great influence to a whole generation of posers.

Some people may not like it, and see it as a flaw, but I think it’s great. You are an amazing chameleon who has changed whenever you have come back or taken a break or just when you feel like it, and do this to achieve… whatever it is you’re going for, which, at this point nobody knows and honestly nobody cares. But me? I see the genius in it.

Who can forget your very obviously beneficial partnership with Courtney Pierce. She wins the title and you immediately try to get in with her. I see what you’re doing. I, for one, completely understand it. You had to suck the life out of Courtney, and now, she’s gone. That’s how parasocial relationships work. I understand the plan. The only issue has been, this has never worked out to your benefit.

Oh yeah, when there’s a rock and roll dude like Griffin Hawkins in SCW, you become a rockstar and you form a band and you play guitar, just like him. That way, you can become friends and use him to get…something out of him, I don’t know what. But, okay, I see the plan. When Griffin is gone, just cozy up next to Amy Marshall and Jessie Salco. Music lovers! You were in the Metal and Punk connection kinda-sorta! I love that for you!

Of course now you’ve switched from Rock and Punk to Pop, but hey… you have to constantly be evolving in this business right? This is what I’ve always heard. “Change with the times” I think you’ve probably misinterpreted that saying and gone with “Change at any time” But again, I applaud the effort and commitment to make these changes. You went through a lot to buddy up to every single person you could. And when the time was right, BAM! You dropped them so fast and moved onto the next hot thing.

I don’t think people understand how much work you put in Kate. Or… Diamond, or whatever you want to be now. You had to go to some extreme lengths and change your entire look, persona and attitude at times. And that takes a lot of commitment. You have to just tear down all the stuff you built in a matter of seconds. You have to be on the ball with that. You have to remember which sportsball teams you’re supposed to like and dislike and I’m sure that can be confusing. So I applaud your efforts, Real Steele.

You have inspired me to try and emulate that in my normal life. And it has worked like a charm at times.

It is quite exciting to try and schmooze my way to everything in life. Just dropping all pretense and just going for it like you have done. The amount of people you have manipulated, used and abused is pretty high, so I don’t think I’m quite at that level just yet. But I understand the thrill of it all. I had to learn to ditch the fear of being exposed like you have so many times though. So this is a very difficult learning curve.

And then when I thought I knew it all, and I was looking to try and be an equal to you… you changed the whole game, Diamond.

You actually went and altered your physical appearance. You changed your whole look for this role. It’s like “whoa.” Now that is the level of commitment that very few can touch. You have to be so deep into it that you’re willing to throw your entire way of life away and never go back. You have to be so ready and willing to make a change to this level that very few people are willing to even attempt it.

I suppose when it’s basically multiple choice at this point, it makes it a little easier.

But still, I applaud that. Maybe you didn’t like who you were, you know? Like a noble choice to really make a change. Let’s change everything about Kate Steele so she’s a completely different person. That’s what you were going for right? It’s a bold move. Drop everything and start fresh. Then you can reveal the “True” Kath-Lyn Steele. One that has never been seen! A new, improved version of you!

Except you didn’t.

Instead you’ve just… done what you always do. Tell everyone how great you are while calling back to things basically a decade old like they mean something today, and giving yourself like 30 nicknames.

I must ask the question:
Why so many?
Did you tell people to call you those nicknames?
Do you have them written down somewhere?

Wait… did you give yourself all those nicknames?

You know that’s not how that works, right? That’s been a rule for a long time. You can’t just give yourself a nickname. Nicknames are given out by your  friends. They’re endearing, they mean something. You earn a nickname. You can’t just make one up. That’s lame.

Though, now that I think about it. You probably had to because you…don’t seem to have many friends.

I get it, it’s the downside of playing so many angles and changing sides so often in life. You have to abandon your friends as quickly as your principles. I feel you on that Kate. There’s just so many other things you can do with your time, so sticking to one thing is really, really hard.

The point is, yeah, you can’t give yourself a nickname.

Anyway, that brings me to where we are now. I wasn’t going to really ever mention you because it’s not really worth my time at this point, but here I was, minding my own business, getting tagged into stupid twitter back and forths and low and behold what happened.

You, Kate Steele… tweeted me!

I mean, my heart was all a flutter for a hot second. Seeing that blue “1” on my screen under notifications made me curious. I was so quick to check it.

And then I saw it was you. And I felt almost flattered.

Because you were singing my praises you were encouraging and it meant so much. You were looking forward to seeing me as the Bombshell’s champion and I would be someone you would respect! Oh my god it was like fucking Christmas around here!

But then I realized something ever cooler.

You were trying to run your game on me! 

Again, at first, very flattered. And then, I was insulted. How dare you try and play this game with me. Not Kath-Lyn, we are not friends. I don’t need anything from you at this point in time outside of the ring. I don’t need to be your friend, because you have zero uses. What do I gain from being your friend, knowing full well who you are, and what you do? You see how that doesn’t really work for me? You clearly have a use for me, you want to suck my life force like you do everyone else’s. I don’t need that right now. And I can’t even suck any from you, seeing as you don’t have any real relevancy to take from.

I mean, neither do I at this point, and I’m sure you’ll try and play it off like now you’re disappointed, but for hot second there, you were trying to cozy up to me in order to use me just in case I won, and you somehow were gifted a Bombshell’s title match. But alas, cannot leech of me.

So, what needs to be done is very clear. Until further notice, when I can use you, I’m afraid you have to be dealt with, Diamond.

After this, you can continue your 58th comeback and do whatever it is you want. I don’t really care. Until you do something interesting, then we have talk, and maybe even be besties for a little while. Who knows. But right now, I just have to take what’s left of your name value that you haven’t tarnished and use it to boost my own standing. I mean, I’m at the back of the line Kate. You can win a couple of matches here and there and someone will inevitably throw you a bone. It happens all the time. This one, I need.

I will do more with it than you ever would.

Trust me.

9
Supercard Archives / Chapter Break: People Watching Is Fun!
« on: July 18, 2025, 10:43:28 PM »
Good Evening, Sin City Wrestling.

My target is Bombshell’s Champion Kayla Richards. world renowned wrestler and world class athlete.

She sees herself as the best wrestler in the world and has shown disdain for anyone who has sought to be better or believes they already are. Which has earned the ire of many in the wrestling community.

Having earned my chance to defeat her, I now have the perfect change to engage and make the wrestling community very happy and set her back for some time. We are aboard the Sun Princess cruise, so this elimination will have to take place on the open ocean.

A perfect place to remove a captain as head of the ship, wouldn’t you agree?

The clock is ticking.

I will leave you, to prepare.





Day 1.

I arrived on time. No thanks to the horror show that is LAX. Crazy… I never thought I would be back here. So many people that helped me along the way, but I wasn’t really in the position for visits. The port of Los Angeles has a cruise center and I took an uber to get here. I packed all the essentials and they were placed in my cabin before the ship ever took off aside from what I brought in my backpack. I had never been on a cruise before but, there was a first time for everything, right? Before the boat took off, there was a celebratory shot for a safe voyage. Some kind of tradition. I did not partake in this shot, though many of my co-workers did. The majority of fans also did the shot, though most of them were already pretty buzzed without it. So many drunk, overweight fans who paid thousands of dollars to go on a cruise and watch a wrestling show.

Wrestling fans are strange.

It felt like it took hours for this cruise to start. Leaving the dock and people just waved. Like, don’t wave at me. You don’t know me. You know me from TV. After doing my usual and checking the room for hidden cameras (you can’t be too careful these days) I spent the first couple of hours just staring out at the open ocean, watching as Los Angeles faded over the horizon. There was so much noise, people walking, chatting loudly, drinking and carrying on like idiots. I decided I did not like this cruise, and perhaps I should spend every moment I could just in my cabin, watching Kayla Richards matches to ensure my mental preparedness was at its peak.

But, where would the fun in that be? I can have fun. I can enjoy myself on this cruise. I don’t need to be a debbie downer. No, there was always something going on, and seeing or hearing about it made sense.

I left my room and began wandering. A few fans walked past me, not bothering to ask for an autograph or picture, considering there’s a whole day for that shit. But very few people wanted to bother me, which was nice for me. I didn’t want to engage with them, so I simply walked out into the open areas of the cruise.

It was time for reconnaissance.

One of the easiest ways to learn things, especially when people are drunk, is to just be in the area. Just… blend in.

I brought a copy of “Play It As It Lays” and put my sunglasses on, pretending to read and sunbathe while watching everyone walk by. People walked by and some stopped to see if I was really me, and then a subtle wave as no one wants to be disturbed while reading. But there were plenty of conversations. One where a dude and this girl were talking, complete strangers brought together by this cruise. The conversation was light, but just studying him for a second gave me all I needed. Sweaty, stuttering and trying way too hard to be funny. The girl was kind enough to give him the time of day and they went on about people they knew. The girl’s dad, uncle and brother were all cops. The guy said he was a security guard back at home. The girl’s friend came to get her about getting another drink. The guy said she looked like she could be an actress, certainly shooting his shot. Then he said his friend was a stunt man and said he didn’t like the job because “Once you’ve fallen down a flight of stairs once, you’ve fallen down them all.”

The joke fell flat. It wasn’t good. The girl left shortly thereafter and the guy cursed at himself under his breath. I doubt he’ll be getting lucky on this cruise.

There was a conversation about who had a better body between Brooke and Marissa Shields, which struck me as odd considering they’re basically the same person, but whatever. On the flip side there was a better ass debate between Carter and Miles Casey, also between two guys, so… also whatever. There were more debates and small talk, this party was extremely unlively.

Dinner went by without too much issue. There were question and answer sessions with various wrestlers, none that were interesting to hear. Then music and dancing, and when a bunch of uncoordinated white people get together and try and dance, it’s a fucking mess. There was also karaoke and I could have gone the rest of my life without hearing Bobbie and Artie attempt to sing a duet. Fucking Christ.

Strangely, I don’t think I saw Kayla anywhere. I will have to look for her now.

I swung by her cabin and just attempted to open the door, knowing it was locked. I moved out of view and watched as the door never opened. Perhaps Kayla was out. Oh well, I must have missed her.

Interesting.

Day 2

More of the same. I got a tour of the boat and all the inner workings on how a cruise ship functions. I asked several questions about the lifeboats and what our survival odds were on the open ocean, which were met with stares of confusion and perhaps suspicion. I assured them I wasn’t going to sabotage the liner, since I had a title to win, but they appeared wary of me from that point on.

But then, I struck gold. There she was.

Kayla was walking around the open area. I spotted her casually strolling. I began to follow her. I wanted to see if she would actually look behind herself at any point, but she did not. I just walked with her, staying a good distance behind her, just to observe. I didn’t want any trouble just yet. If she caught me, then I’d just walk past her like I didn’t see her. But I was watching. The thrill of this little cat and mouse game was exciting. I watched her get her lunch. I saw what she ate. I watched how she ate. All from a comfortable distance away. She laughed and joked with the people she was with. She looked like she didn’t have a care in the world.

Good. Just the way I want her to be.

She followed her routine. Many of my co-workers had open workouts throughout the day. She did hers that day. I would do one later, but I wanted to see how she trained. She trained hard, hair matted with sweat as she pushed harder and faster than most anyone. There were no days off for Kayla when it came to training.

Even better.

Mercedes Vargas had a Q&A that night. She told old road stories about things from over a decade ago and went through a list of facts and figures that sounded impressive, but longevity has a way of skewing your perception of times and dates. She boasted about her various title wins and it was just a chore to sit though if you weren’t a history buff, but only a history buff about Mercedes Vargas. She ended it by claiming she was still going strong and the best was yet to come, and holy fuck this woman needs to shut up.

I ventured out later, a deck above and low and behold, there she was again. Kayla was eating again. I felt like a hitman or something just observing my target. Soon enough, the time to be right, to strike.

Day 3.

Autograph and signing day. I found myself on the end of a long row with Harper Mason nearest me and kiddie-cornered with Guy with a cape. I was more interested in watching how animated he was. The way he just sounded out his signature.

“Guy. With. Cape.”
“Guy. With. Cape.”
“Guy. With. Cape.”

Over and over. It became stuck in my head after a while.  He made faces at people, and did small things like looking in a different direction when posing for photos. He certainly was a character. 

Harper was in my other ear, telling everyone who would listen about her views on various things and even striking up conversations with fans about music or movies or whatever else. She seemed to be genuinely enjoying the experience.

My line was pretty short, but that was to be expected. I signed about 100 autographs each with “next world champ” above my name. I happened to have my D.A.R.E t-shirt (which stood for Drugs Are Really Excellent) which may have rubbed a few parents the wrong way, but I found it funny. Only the people who loved the irony wanted a picture. I would always stand there and stare into the camera straight faced and unblinking as best I could. Some dude actually wanted me to step on him, because wrestling fans are also weirdos. I did not do any special requests like that. Even though there were complaints.

Maybe don’t be a weirdo. Just saying.

I very much enjoyed dinner alone, yet again. It’s almost like my co-workers don’t want to get to know me or anything. I got to see a bunch of them, laughing and joking, enjoying their dinners. I took note of who ate what, but nothing seemed shocking. But I would file that information away for later use. Perhaps it wouldn’t be necessary, but you can never be too careful.

There was a late night pool party. I watched from the deck above and that’s when I began to realize just how much the division needed me. These people needed me. They all wanted to do the same thing every time, And yet, they all wanted to act like they deserve a title match or reward simply for existing.

Now don’t get me wrong. I am a cheerleader for foolishness of course. I like it when things aren’t on a schedule or anything like that. I came here to bring a little chaos. I walked right through this company in record time and it was because everyone was so uncoordinated. But that’s become the norm. Everyone is just happy to be here. Everyone is enjoying themselves.

I understood now that this was the reason Kayla was even successful in the first place. She succeeded because no one was focused. Everyone accepts their spot and they just sit there. They look up, they see the new champion, they shrug and they move on, and then occasionally, someone will complain about not getting an opportunity, instead of taking it.

Look at them. Look how they are content.

I have so much work to do.


Day 4.

I worked out. It was early and most fans were not in attendance. It was almost 5am when I started. There were a few night owls who watched me do some in-ring drills, the usual tackle drop-down leapfrog hiptoss generic nonsense that everyone else did. I was never going to be as strong or as physically imposing as Diamond Caldwell. I was never going to be as fast as Kate Steele is. I just needed to be good enough. And so far, I was.

I wasn’t stupidly thinking I was going to go in there with Kayla and not take my lumps. Kayla was going to kick my ass. She was going to test me, she was going to wear me out.

I just wasn’t afraid of it.

That’s the difference. I’ve weathered storms my whole life. This wasn’t going to be much different. The only change was at the end, I wasn’t going to survive another day, I was going to be rewarded with championship gold. That is just one reward

The bigger reward was opening the door to so much more. Just the thought of it makes me giddy.

Anyway, I spent the majority of this day doing more reconnaissance.

But it turned into more people watching.

I plopped down in a little yellow two-piece into the smaller wading pool, book in hand, sunglasses on and more watching.

At the bar closest to me, I could see a man and woman on one side of a table facing me, talking to another gentleman whose back was to me. They were fans, having some kind of conversation, but I could also clearly see that the man and woman who were facing me were doing a little more. His hand was under the woman’s skirt.

Like he was up in there pretty far. Even from as far away as I was, I could see it.  He was going to town and she was just sitting there, straight faced. Now I became curious. Is his technique no good? Is she that good at holding it in? Have they fucking practiced this so that they can do it that discreetly? How long does that take? There were so many questions! But hey, you never turn down a free show, right?

Another couple got into an argument over a sandwich. The guy had a sub and presented one half to the girl. The girl rejected it, asking why he was giving her that exact piece. The guy lamented and offered the other half, trying to stop this from escalating. The girl again refused. But the girl continued, asking why she was not offered her choice. The dude explained they were the same thing, but the argument continued, until the dude just ended up taking a huge bite out of both halves, clearly frustrated.

I was really beginning to like this cruise. There was so much going on. I will have to do this more often.

People watching is always fun.

Day 5.

There isn’t much happening.

I guess all the fun is over as people are now getting serious. I spent the day watching videos of Kayla. We are just two days away and now, there’s less wrestler shenanigans. The fans are starting to want to get restless as well.

I wasn’t nervous, just anxious. I wanted to get this over and done with. There was so much at stake for me, and so much I needed to do. The faster I could do this, the easier it would be.

There is going to be so much chaos, so much more life pumped into this company.

Big plans. Big dreams.

I have seen my target. I have studied her movements and tendencies.

I know what I must do.

And then, it’s history maker.
Record breaker.

And champion.


The clock continues to tick. Time is constant. And soon enough, I will be the Bombshell’s champion.

I know this, because I have given and said so much, given so much for you Kayla, and you present next to nothing to me. Why did you choose to go down this path? Maybe it’s because you feel it in the air like I do. You feel the winds changing. Oh yes, I saw you on the cruise this week, looking out longingly at the ocean, lost in thought about what’s going to happen.

I don’t need to wonder, I have seen this moment coming since I signed with this company. Since I observed all the vanilla trash wandering around aimlessly. I realized my job and I need to give these people purpose. And I know that you are really thinking about beating me and stopping me, because you, my captain, are the last line of defense. You’re supposed to be the best. You’re the one destined to do what no one else has done so far, right?

But, instead you have already conceded and it’s disappointing.

Oh wait, no. Sorry I’m jumping the gun here.

No, this is the part where we try to act like we’re both too cool to be intimidated. Where we look back and go “what you said about me, it didn’t affect me!”

Let me start again.

So, let me see if I get this straight.

Our leader, our champion, and more importantly, my Captain, you, Kayla Richards, you could have very easily taken the opportunity to ditch me in the tag match, a match that really meant nothing besides a scouting report, and used that to show me the tough love to see if I was ready, and all that. It could have been a lesson for a rookie. Classic. But instead, you were crowing about how you didn’t do that and showed what a true champion she is…

Only to now tell me that you’re going to cheat if you have to? And be happy about it?

I don’t get it, and I’m not quite sure who that says more about quite frankly. Do you see me as that much of a threat to you that you need to resort to this when you have been so much better than me and everyone else? You’re the best, right? I am literally a rookie. I’ve already explained this to you, Kayla. This should be an ass kicking of a lifetime for me! This should be belt-to-ass for you!

Actually, I do get it.

And it makes it even more hilarious.

I made you do that.

I manipulated you into that. You were never in control of that tag match. I figured if I appealed to your ego, you’d stay and help the team. I tempted your pride by suggesting that you could leave me high and dry. So, whatever choice you made, it would be wrong. If you left me, I’d have ammo. If you stayed, you were playing into my hands. I put you in a lose-lose situation and you went headfirst into it. Now you sound dumb for saying you did it to be a true champion.

Sorry, let’s get back to the whole “unfazed” thing.

All this does is make what I have already said about you ring more truthful than ever. You are defined by the championship you currently have. You think you are the best because of it. And from what I can tell, from what I have seen, you are worried.

No, actually, you’re not just worried, you are fucking terrified.

You can feel your control slipping away. You can feel that you don’t have much time remaining as champion. This is why you’re resorting to a fucking scare tactic of saying you will cheat if you need to in order to keep that title. Why not just tell me you’re cool with getting yourself disqualified or counted out?

Probably because you know how pathetic that sounds.

I laid out your damn cards for you. I gave you everything you needed. And because you realize that this is pretty much the end of your reign, you’re resorting to this?

The stench of your desperation is palpable. And you feel entitled to do these things because it makes you feel justified.

“I had to work twice as hard as you did!”
“I didn’t get things handed to me!”
“You don’t know what hard work is like!”

Cry me a fucking river.

First of all, you don’t know me. You know what I’ve told you. And I haven’t even gotten to the good stuff yet.

Second of all, I really didn’t need to hear about how you fought, scratched and clawed your way to your position, or how you whined and cried when you weren’t given matches. It says so much about you that everyone here thought so little of you that you had to beg to be thrown a bone and given a match. That sounds like a “you” problem. But it does make more sense now why you are so desperate to keep the title. You fear what I already called you out for.

Without it, you are irrelevant.

But yeah, sure. Cheat. I don’t really care if you do. I’m sure as shit down to cheat as well. Why not? If my Captain says it’s okay, then it’s okay. So yes, let’s cheat. Let’s use every underhanded tactic there is. I’ll bring some powder, right? You can tape something up and put it on your fist to punch me. Let’s see… We have to be sure and pull each other’s hair and grab the tights on pinfalls, and use the ropes for leverage. Yeah, it’ll be cool! Let’s have the dirtiest fight in the history of wrestling!

I’m down if you are Captain!

See, if you were listening to me, you would understand that I just need the title to get my point across. This whole thing has zero to do with you Kayla. Not in the slightest. You just happen to be the one who has the title. You just happen to symbolize the malaise that has come over Sin City Wrestling. And it’s just the icing on the cake that the title means so much to you.

It makes taking it from you all the most enjoyable.

To me, all that is, is an admission that you know that the Bombshell’s title is going to be mine, and you are just in denial about what it means for you. Without the title, you become a face in the crowd and that terrifies you. You don’t want to admit that harsh truth about yourself. You want to be somebody, be a name, a face people recognize. And you need a championship belt for that to happen. That is the truth.

Nobody cares about Kayla Richards if she’s not a champion. Those aren’t just my words, they’re yours.

Your words betray you Kayla. You telling me the story of fighting to get booked tells me everything I said is true. You don’t want to go back to the days of begging to get a spot on the show. And that’s what you think is going to happen when you lose. I’m sure that the company will throw you a bone at that point and perhaps give you a rematch. But by that point, it won’t matter. Your power will have evaporated.

And no, it’s not me trying to evaluate you. I’ve done enough in the medical and scientific fields to know, but I don’t need a degree to see it. This is how experience works. We went over this. When you see and hear something enough, you know it when you see it and hear it. It’s not hard. I see it in your face, I hear it in your voice. You want me to respect you, you want me to fear you and change who I am, for you. You expect it. You feel entitled to it.

And even though you aren’t, I still gave it to you.

I told you how great you were. I told you how accomplished you were. What more do you want from me, Kayla? How many more ways do you want me to tell you that you’re better than me? I have been nothing but respectful! I respect your skills and abilities! I told you as much! You are my Captain! Why don’t you believe me, Kayla?

What did I ever do in this world to deserve an empty-headed dumb fuck like you to come out and call me a smug little shit? You mad, bro? Why must you be this way, Captain? What exactly do you want me to be, Kayla? Should I be biting my nails, trembling with fear because the great Kayla Richards is looking across from me? I beat people better than you already. More accomplished. More experienced. Hall of Famers. I have no reason to fear you.

I haven’t heard a single person on any roster say they fear you. The only person I’ve heard this from is you. Which really just means you are pretending to be important when you really aren’t. You just want to be. And that title gives you the confidence to pretend that hard.

It feels like you are trying to play the “Do you know who I am?” card right now. Which… no, you can’t play that card because you already have your cards. They are already presented. It’s not my fault that you don’t like them. That’s the hand you were dealt.

So, now that we have all that out of the way, what shall I do with you once I am champion becomes the question.

I am on a quest for change and that means I have to be at the top. It is simply a matter of time when that will happen. All along my journey, I have changed everyone I have come across. You don’t see or hear Mikah or Laura clamoring to get back in the ring? Melissa has realized she’s done. Julianna has since departed as well. Lilith has looked in the mirror and now perhaps understands her role better. Seleana and Diamond both got the truth and soon they’ll realize that I am right.

So now it comes to you. Because it was so easy to manipulate you, and get under your skin, all while standing right beside you, why on earth would I want to change you? I like you just the way you are. Easily controlled. I say one thing and you will make a mountain out of it. You will fly on the handle, trying to cover all your bases in an effort to prove you are not affected, when we all can see you are.

No, I will very much enjoy pushing your buttons for the foreseeable future.

There are only two changes I need to make with you, Kayla.

One, will be the most painful for you, and that is relieving you of the Bombshell’s championship. No more power for you. It will be mine. I will have the power, because I need to make the changes, and through that title, they will come easier. You fade into the background, but I will keep you close. Give you just enough so that you believe that you are still what you think you should be.

The second, is subtle. You won’t even know it’s gone because you didn’t even know you had it.

I have to relieve you of the title of “My Captain”

I know, you didn’t ask for it. But as champion of the Bombshell’s division, you were the captain. You led us to victory. You have led the division for some time now. But you can’t be the captain anymore. Your time as captain is up. I know you enjoyed it, but in order to really change things, you must be removed. I have to be the captain. I have to lead this division. You clearly haven’t done a good enough job. I’m just telling you what everyone else already knows, and more importantly, what you already know.

So, there’s a cruel and amazing irony that this title in particular will be removed from you, on a cruise ship.

Now, normally, this would be a mutiny and then you’d be sent off the plank or perhaps given a lifeboat and left on an island somewhere. But here? You will simply be cast aside while I take my rightful place at the top.

This is how it has to be.

I will be the Bombshell’s champion. I will beat you for it, Kayla. And I will make you a believer.
It’s for the best.

History maker.
Record breaker.

Trust me.

10
Supercard Archives / Chapter 4: The Chains Of Love (Part 1/2)
« on: July 07, 2025, 07:59:20 PM »
Well, here we are!

Headed out on the ocean, and headed for history.

I know, you never imagined this. I certainly didn’t. But here we are anyway.

And look, just like I said, I didn’t walk out on Kayla, and she didn’t walk out on me. We won. We were the winners. So, I must thank my captain yet again for carrying me to a huge victory in a tag match that will soon be forgotten aside from a footnote of what my 4th official match was before I won the Bombshell’s title in my 5th.

I have spoken of change, I have spoken of revolution and evolution because it needs to happen here. The champion, Kayla Richards is the prime example of the rut we’re in. She’s our Bombshell’s champion, I would hope she defeated a lesser, and well past-her-prime Mercedes Vargas, and she did. But… the only reason that this is the true main event, is that I am in it, as I said.

I’m sure Kayla is happy someone else is doing the heavy lifting since she’s incapable of it, but that’s just going to be one of many things she thanks for in the end after I am champion. She might not see it now, but she’ll learn to appreciate it.

I know I had to have the same thing happen.

There’s a lot you learn from the chains of love.

Let us begin a new chapter.

You’ll learn a lot.

Trust me.



I almost hate to admit this, but Charlie is one of the reasons I’m even in the wrestling business.

I can blame him for a lot of things, but yes, my journey into pro wrestling started with him. If it wasn’t for him, I don’t know if my journey would have led me to re-discover pro wrestling. He has lived rent free in my head for so long, that when that option became available, I immediately thought of him. For better or for worse, he has always been there, just not consistently.

Charlie never really had any interest in anything I did as a child. So long as I didn’t get in trouble at school, so long as I didn’t get arrested for stealing or some kind of crime, Charlie couldn’t have cared less about my life or hobbies or interests. So long as they weren’t illegal, I was free to do as I pleased. My mother really was the one who tried to teach me things, Charlie just… provided material things I suppose. He got me everything I ever really needed that was material. I got Barbie’s and a big wheel, and a bike, and all the things I asked for. But once I got them, I was left to my own devices as to how to make any of it work.

Charlie didn’t really “teach” me to ride a bike. I got on, and he would shout one word instructions to me.

I remember getting on, after he took my training wheels off, and finding the petals and holding onto the handlebars. We were in the driveway and he pointed towards the backyard.

“Pedal.” He said.

So, I pedalled back to the backyard. There was a small downward slope in our yard, and suddenly, I was going faster than anticipated. Without the training wheels to guide me, I felt like I was going out of control.

“TURN!” he shouted.

Without the wheels, I was scared that I would dip down, fall over and crash. So I slammed on the brakes. I skidded to a halt, and looked back up. Charlie was shaking his head in disappointment. I realized I had to learn to do this, to get over my fear of crashing. So what if I crashed? All I had to do was turn.

Finally, after a few tries, I turned and, low and behold, I did not fall over. My weight counterbalanced the dip of the bike to an extent. All I had to do was turn. I just had to figure out how.

Charlie was correct, despite not actually explaining anything.

That was probably the most parenting he ever really gave me, until one day.

One day, when I was 14, Charlie began to take interest in me. I was so weirded out by it. After years of “yeah” and “that’s great” delivered so sarcastically every single time, to have him suddenly interested in me and my studies was jarring. I never imagined that he would ever want to do anything with me, much less be in my life. He gave me no advice or wisdom, he just let me do things on my own. Maybe it’s because he was taking care of my mother, but I don’t know for sure what exactly sparked this interest.

Just one day, I had to stay after school and do a science project my freshman year, and he needed to pick me up. This happened regularly, but normally we went straight home. But on this day, we didn’t take the route I had become accustomed to.

“Where are we going?” I asked, looking out the window to an unfamiliar part of town for me.

“Mickey’s” Was all he said.

Again, Charlie just acted like I knew things when I did not. I had no idea who or what “Mickey’s” was, but I also knew it probably didn’t have anything to do with the mouse.

And sure enough, we pulled up to a bar. I had no idea why my dad was taking me to a bar when I was not old enough to drink, or drive for that matter. But he walked in, and it was like he became a completely different person.

“Hey Mickey!” He shouted at the man behind the bar. Mickey turned and had a huge grin on his face.

“Hey, Charlie! How are ya?!”

Mickey made his way down the bar and shook Charlie’s hand. Charlie then turned to me, and motioned to Mickey.

“Mickey, this is Franchesca, my daughter. Franchesca, this is Mr. Altieri”

“How are ya, kiddo?” Mickey asked, his voice pretty gentle and jovial.

“Fine.” I responded.

“Good to meet ya, and… you can call me Mickey.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Mickey turned to Charlie and patted him on the shoulder.

“The usual, Charlie?”

“You got it.”

We walked to the bar, sitting on the old stools. For one of the first times since I was a small child, Charlie looked at me with seemingly care in his eyes.

“You want something to eat? Drink? He asked.

I was shocked by this behavior.

“I’m not old enough to drink.” I replied.

“I know that. I meant like a coke or something.” He said, rolling his eyes.

“Oh… yeah, I guess.” I said with a shrug.

“Mickey, give me a coke and uh…a plate of nachos.”

“You got it, Charlie.”

Charlie smiled at me, and then it disappeared.

“You like nachos, right?” He asked, genuinely not knowing.

“Yeah, it’s fine dad.” I said in response.

We got the nachos, I got my coke and Charlie got his beer. Several of them in fact. And when the booze hit, he was far more friendly then I had ever seen. He was the life of the party. He somehow knew everyone that came into the bar and introduced me to so many people I lost count. I just ate my nachos while Charlie socialized.

I had never seen this side of him before. Charlie was doing this whole thing and it felt so fake. It had to be the booze doing this. But there he was. Smiling, laughing and joking. He seemed pretty happy. I don’t remember the last time Charlie smiled at anything that wasn’t a comedy movie or show on TV.

Mickey came over with another plate of nachos for me, smiling gently.

“Your dad’s a good guy.” He said.

I turned and looked at him.
“What the hell are you on, man?”
“You can’t be talking about my dad.”
“My dad is certainly NOT a good person.”

Those responses were the first to pop into my head. Mickey clearly only knew the Charlie that walked into this bar.

“Yeah.” I said.

There was a pause as he slid the nachos towards me, when another man walked in and sat down next to me. To be fair, it was the only seat at the bar, and Charlie was occupied.

“Hey Earl.” Mickey said to the man.

“Mick.”  he responded, and flashed two fingers at Mickey.

“Double Whiskey sour, Mick.”

“You got it.”

Mickey turned, but saw that Earl turned to me and didn’t know what to make of me right away. I don’t know if he felt a certain way, but Earl was clearly interested.

“Who’s this?” He asked nobody in particular.

“That’s Franchesca. That’s Charlie’s daughter.” Mickey said, his eyes not really leaving our area.

Earl smiled and extended his hand to me.

“I’m Earl. I work for your dad sometimes.” He said, waiting for me  to shake his hand.

I certainly didn’t want to, but I did.

“Cool.” I said. Hoping for this conversation to end there, but it did not.

Earl spoke to me for nearly an hour. I tried not to pay attention to him, but he just kept talking. Even when Charlie came over to where we were, it was simply to get more beer. He saw no problem with this, and Mickey was… at least watching over me, and feeding me nachos without charging Charlie.

Finally, Charlie returned and slapped Earl playfully on the back and shared a couple laughs with him. It felt like forever, but we finally we’re going home. Charlie wasn’t drunk, but he for sure was feeling good. He drove us home and never really said anything about why we went there or why I had to go, but we did it and… that was that.

This became a regular thing for me, at 14 to take trips to the bar with Charlie and eat nachos while he drank. Soon enough, I was the hit of the bar, with Mickey always being very kind to me and said hello, and I slowly, with no other option, opened up socially. Little did I know, but I was being taught life lessons in the bar.

Charlie would socialize, and Earl would always find a way to talk to me, no matter what. But what I learned early on is that Earl was a long-distance truck driver. So really, Earl just wanted someone to listen to him talk. Someone to talk to him, because he was all alone, almost all the time. He needed companionship and for a couple of years there, I was it. Charlie only said a few things to Earl, and they were mostly work related. Earl talked to me about his drives, the long roads, his wife and their marital issues, his eating habits, everything he thought was interesting. And all I really had to do was act interested.

I slowly turned it into hustling Earl into giving me money every now and again. He bought me earrings. He bought me clothes. All for my attention, and occasionally a hug or some sweet talking to his bad flirting. It was a small price to pay. Earl never really tried to touch me, but he did rub my back a lot. Charlie didn’t seem to care, and he never really asked what I did at Mickey’s or question where the gifts came from. He was too shit-faced to really care anyway, as many times I would end up driving him home. Thankfully, Eddie had taught me to drive by then, but it wasn’t an issue.

Still the bonding we were doing was still strange to me.

One day when I happened to be walking by the living room. I was 13 years old and Charlie was sitting at the television watching wrestling. And all of a sudden, I was transfixed. Two grown men in clothes were beating the heck out of each other, slamming themselves through tables, barbed wire and the like. I believed that this was horrible. There was no reason to be doing this. It looked barbaric and disgusting. But I couldn’t stop watching it.

“What are you watching” I asked.

“Wrestling.” Charlie said, again matter-of-factly like I knew off hand what that was.

I watched more and more with Charlie. I was… I was bonding with him over wrestling. It was weird. Charlie would just sit and watch and occasionally laugh at a joke or a move that looked bad. He would cringe at bad landings and things that looked really painful. I was just… taken with all this stuff. I started to gain favorites and people I preferred to see.

My favorite for a long time was Jason Cashe.

Cashe was ruthless, but he was hilarious. He looked funny, he talked funny, but he would kick you in the face without a second thought and never backed down from a fight. I once saw him in a cage match with his girlfriend, on-air or not, and several other wrestlers and without hesitation, he smashed her face in with several elbows. He did them so brutally, and so quickly, that the referee stopped the match and Cashe retained a title. He would go to any lengths to keep it.

I saw Cashe lose a nipple in the ring. He bled, he would hurt himself and his opponent. He was crazy. He was cool.

Soon, I wasn’t just watching wrestling with Charlie. I was watching it on my own. I sought out wrestling from all over the country and across the world on the internet. I followed Cashe doing cool shit and got to see a whole host of new wrestling and different styles. I got to see so much, and a lot of it, I enjoyed.

I saw the women do it just as good, and just as brutally as the men.

And that’s when I saw Amber Ryan.

She was the coolest person on the planet in my eyes. Everything she did was cool. The way she walked, the way she talked, and all the things she did in the ring. I saw her spit thumbtacks out of her mouth, throw and spit fire, and spit poison mist. She was so cool. I was mesmerized by her. She was everything I wanted to be.

There were others, but they all seemed fake, phony and just playing a role. Especially the “good guys” I didn’t really have time for many of them, but every story needs a good guy and a bad guy. But the bad guys, the people who took what they wanted, did what they wanted and never sought remorse or redemption for their actions? They were the good guys to me.

And some of the “Good guys” turned out to be shitty people out of the ring. I respected that more than anything, but if you were shitty inside and out? That was amazing. Maybe it was because of how I saw the world, or how the world presented itself to me. Everyone was a let down, everyone will disappoint you and nobody really gives a shit at the end of the day, so why pretend to care?

And then I found them wrestling together on the same shows and still doing that same stuff, and they were friends as well! It was like the coolest thing in the world.

Jason Cashe and Amber Ryan became my heroes.

I didn’t have any before them. And now, I had people to watch and emulate. Maybe they weren’t the best choices, but you couldn’t convince me otherwise. And you still can’t. They, more than my own parents, raised.

That's why I called them mom and dad.

I certainly wasn’t getting anyone to look up to in my family.

But as I look back on it, I learned so much from Charlie, without him ever really explaining anything.

I suppose at the end of this, I owe him more than I realize. He is one of the reasons I am where I am today, and why I am who I am today. Without Charlie, who knows how I would have turned out. He did a lot for me. A lot more than I knew.

But then I remember he neglected me for basically half my life, Never told me he loved or cared for me, and pulled a gun on me that made me leave the only home and family I’ve ever known.

Yes, The chains of love are heavy.


This is now the time where we lay our cards on the table, Kayla.

If this was a high-stakes poker game, we’d both have gone all in and this would be a showdown.

But as I sit here and look at this whole situation, I am not holding strong cards at all. You are holding those big, powerful cards and I’m sitting here with an off-suit couple of cards that at a glance, look awful if we were still at the betting stage. Everyone would be calling me a fool for even betting with this hand.

There’s plenty you have that I simply do not. I won’t try and act like I have some kind of ace up my sleeve at this point in our journey. Our cards are on the table, there is no hiding what we both have, and don’t have.

I will concede several points to you right now, ones I am sure you will love to hear in fact. I have no problem admitting these things because in the long run, they don’t really matter that much to me. It’s not like I have any sort of argument that I somehow hold the power in this showdown. I will give you all the points you deserve.

Point one: You are a better wrestler than I am.

That much is plainly evident. You’ve won championships and held onto them for a long time. You can do amazingly spectacular things in the ring. You have been doing this longer than perhaps I’ve even been alive. You have trained and dedicated yourself to being the best of the best. The killer of killers. There might not be anyone in Sin City Wrestling, or more so the planet that is at your level of skill. You have me beat in every category when it comes to wrestling acumen. It’s just simply something I don’t have that much of, and you have it in spades.

You know the ins and out of the ring and I am not on that level, nor would I claim to be. You have me beat, Kayla. I concede this to you.

The only thing I wonder is just how much better you can become. Is this your peak? Is this the best Kayla Richards? Because I’ve heard you say time and again that you lose, and you learn from the loss. You train harder and come back stronger so that you can avenge those losses. It is your mantra, so to speak. Your code. You will always strive to get better.

But how much better can you really be? Because you’ve lost. A lot. There comes a point where it becomes redundant to think like this because you’re already at the top. You have the Bombshell’s title, and you have now convinced yourself that you are the best and have the title to prove it, so when you so clearly have this advantage over most people, it seems silly to use it as some kind of ace in the hole. I’m not trying to be a better wrestler than you, Kayla. I have no illusions that even beating you will give me any right to that kind of claim.

The point is, I don’t have to be a better wrestler than you.I don’t have to be “on your level.” You have convinced yourself that no one is on your level when it comes to that, so I don’t even need to go into that space. You can have it. What I am seeing is that you only know of one way to reassure yourself of it. After a loss, you train harder, you do more reps, lift more weights, and do twice as many drills. Get bigger, stronger and faster than before.

But what happens when it doesn’t matter? You already have this advantage over me. How much stronger do you need to be? How many more reps do you need to do? Is there a number, or a certain point that you reach that you can accurately gauge it? I mean, I beat you, despite this advantage, and you just want to make that advantage bigger when it didn’t help you in the first place?

Moreso, we are not having a track meet. You can run faster, jump higher and farther, anything you wish athletically. It means zero if you are on your back for 3 seconds and I am pinning your shoulders to the mat. Nothing. All that work, all that training? It’s useless. And you have convinced yourself that it means everything. You can be a better wrestler than me, but if I pin you, that is a moot point. All your training will be for nothing if my hand is raised at the end of the match. You can still retain that fictional title of “best in the world” all you like. If I have the win, and the physical title, you can have that one.

But still, you have me beat in skill.

Point two: You are more experienced than me.

There is no substitute for experience. You have a wealth of experience. You have more than likely forgotten more about this business than I will ever learn. I cannot compete with you in this space. Nor would I ever try to. I see all the videos and whatnot about youth vs. experience and all the time, the experience, knowing how to do things, but more importantly, when to do those things, always beats youth that thinks they have a better way to do it.

I have had 4 matches in SCW. You have had 4 in about 2 months. Probably more I don’t know about. You will always have the experience edge over me. No matter how long I wrestle at this point, as long as you are here, you will have that edge. There is nothing I can really do about that.

But, I would argue, I have gained a world of experience in those 4 matches, simply by both participating and watching. I watched Lilith and Melissa make the mistakes of youth, and I took advantage. I outsmarted and outmaneuvered Julianna, a former world champion. And I saw two “legends” give it their all, use everything they had learned with their literal decades of experience, and I still beat them both.

It’s why I am here. Where were you after 4 matches? Were you competing for a world title?

I have basically blitzed my way to the top and it worked without much problem. I am a very quick learner, and so, I am gaining on you when it comes to experience. Soon, I will have as much as you do now, even though you will always have more. But how much more experience do you really have, Kayla? Because once you learn how something works, it’s not like you gain any more new knowledge of that thing, object, whathaveyou.

For example, did you know that when you die, your body releases all the fluids you have in you? This is because your muscles no longer receive energy so they relax. It’s called primary flaccidity. See, now you know that, and that’s the end of that chapter of death.

The point is, I understand how this works, and it’s basically up to you at this point, Kayla. It’s up to you to figure me out. You have to reach into your bag of tricks. You have to pull out the oldest old school thing in order to try and keep that title around your waist. Everything I have done has worked so far. So now, it is your job to try and “solve the Frankie Holliday puzzle” as I talked about before. Though, I have already given you the answer.

The point is, I don’t have to try that with you. You have literally a decade’s worth of footage to study. Possibly more to see exactly how to break you down, what makes you tick, what drives you, motivates you and every little detail I can find. I have everything I need, while you, with all your experience, all your savvy and wit, you have to sit down and work off of four matches, one where we were partners and see if there’s anything that can help you.

I just have to continue to do what I’ve always done. Watch, study, adapt and overcome.

But, you still have that experience edge.

Good for you.

You cards… they don’t look as strong now, do they?

Are you still confident in those cards Kayla?

Because you’ve already pushed your title to the center.

The thing that defines you, hangs in the balance.

Yes. I said it, and you know it’s the truth. You are defined by titles. I never understood this logic, because titles can come and go. You have hold them for 10 hours, 10 days, 10 weeks, fuck it, 10 years. And at the end of the day, you eventually lose it. Do we all get prizes at the end? Is this like Pokemon where you have to catch ‘em all? For you, the title currently in your possession is your entire world. It justifies your entire existence in wrestling. And without it, you’re just another wrestler. Just the run-of-the-mill wrestler. Tights, boots, cool-girl kick pads. Probably got some dragon or flame design too to be extra generic.

Without a title, you know you are irrelevant.

Nothing about you stands out. A title around your waist gives you the confidence and power you so desperately seek. A title around your waist gives your entire wrestling career meaning. You feel invincible with it. It lets you act like you are in control of things.

But do you feel like you’re in control?

Sure. Sure you do. You’re not concerned, right? You’re on social media “thotting” and all that, so clearly you aren’t really concerned about me. You’re concerned about people who don’t even work here. So clearly, you don’t sweat me, right?

And that’s cool. You should continue to do that. Don’t worry about me. What can I do? You’ll figure everything out. You just keep doing you.

I just find it kind of strange that a supposed sociopath who is only out for herself, is now entertaining people, laughing and joking and socializing. Things that a sociopath sort of struggles with. You’ve done it quite well. If I were to actually label you, I’d just say you’re a narcissist. But hey, that’s my science nerd coming out. I’m just trying to help you.

Oh, I’m sorry no, no. Again, you are in control of the situation. I just told you you have those super strong cards for this all-in bet. Skill and experience. That’s all you. I gave you all the power because of that title around your waist. The only thing that matters to you, right? You will use these things. You have to. You must!  You are the force of nature. You are the champion. You are the best wrestler! This is what you do! You have everything you need!

And it will mean fuck all when I rip the Bombshell’s championship from hands.

I would say I’m sorry that I have to take the one thing you truly love from you.

But, as they say, the chains of love are heavy.

…

Someday,  you will look back on this, this moment in time. And realize it was the best thing to ever happen to you.
And you’ll thank me for it.

Trust me.

11
Climax Control Archives / Chapter 3: The Children Are Our Future (Part 6/6)
« on: June 20, 2025, 09:11:57 AM »
I suppose people are actually starting to listen to me when I speak.
At least I hope so.

The fact that now I’m being spoken about with a cautious respect is indeed flattering. I’ve heard some of the greats now utter my name as their equal. They understand the threat that I am and I have become in 4 simple matches. There is no dismissing me at this point. Even our champion knows that now. The doubting whispers have quieted and the fearful ones have begun.

Everything I have said I would do, I have done. By hook or by crook. At the end, I have what I earned, and I am going to get what I want very soon.

I wish everything was this easy.

But if you think that I’m not ready to make the tough choices, if I’m not ready for the responsibility of what I’m aiming for, you just haven’t understood my story.

Don’t worry, this is where school is out.

And I made the toughest choice of all.

Let me tell you a story…





Junior year and what I did with my senior year felt like it went by in a flash. I spent almost all of my time with Eddie. Trying to hang out and talk to Eddie. Get him to do stuff. I just needed Eddie around and everything was great.

Mostly because the rest of school wasn’t fun. I almost enjoyed U.S. history, but unfortunately, it was the case I mentioned before. All the good shit is in other books. You miss out on so much because you just have to speed through everything. You’re talking about, in 9 months, trying to do 200 years plus of American history. You just don’t have the time to really learn the important and more interesting stuff. Math will always suck, and English was more of the same “write a report on this book and what you took out of it and it had better match the teacher’s interpretation otherwise you clearly didn’t get it.

 Even Science, the subject I loved the most, took a hit because it was Chemistry my junior year. Chemistry can get fun, but my teacher, Dr. Crews wasn’t a very good teacher. He would read out of the textbook, word for word, and then at the end of a sentence or long paragraph, look up and say “Okay?” as if we all understood what was just said. Maybe some people did actually understand, but I was certainly not one of them. And of course, because high school is about being cool and really this happens after as well, people don’t want to look uncool so after that “Okay?” There was silence. And Dr. Crews took that as a sign that everyone, in fact, understood. When the exact opposite was true. And because nobody wanted to look dumb or uncool, it just went on like this.

My parents of course, never really paid enough attention to actually care about my grades. As long as the school didn’t call to say I wasn’t there or I was failing, they were fine with it. Chemistry I did struggle and ended up with a B+ at the end of the year, but I got through it. But it was so unpleasant to even be there. It felt like a job. A job I really wasn’t interested in doing. I did it because I was supposed to, but it wasn’t the same. I was now more interested in other things.

Mainly Eddie.

Eddie was a year ahead of me, and so I was able to see what the future held, and Physics at least looked interesting. Another U.S. history course, which… again… nothing good. Pre-calculus looked abysmal and I would be more interested in reading Shakespeare for English if it didn’t feel like I had to. More of the same.

When Eddie and I were first dating, we had that weird phase where we had to get to know each other. First dates in high school are some cringe shit. Imagine seeing your Tinder date 5 days a week and you aren’t even getting laid. Just a lot of work. Eddie always had the impish grin and sexy smirk. He tried to play it cool with everything. Again, it was the tattoos. They were everything.

Anyway, Eddie wasn’t book smart, per say. Eddie could do the work, and he most of the time did, but Eddie would fail classes and just do the summer school route to get to the next grade. He really didn’t care. He was interested in school, clearly, but he was interested in me. Maybe as much as I was.

“So, like… what do you like to do?” He asked me when this was happening.

“I don’t know… I like… to read, listen to music, and I like science stuff.” I replied with a shrug. Those were the extent of my hobbies, outside of one other thing.

“You don’t like… watch TV? Or movies?

“I mean… I do, but… you’ll think it’s stupid.” I said, opening myself to the follow up question for no reason. All I had to say there was “yes” and I could have listed movies or shows on TV in 2017, even if I hadn’t watched them.

“No, I won’t. What is it?” He said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. He even crossed his heart to emphasize the point.

“Yes, you will.” I shot back.

“No. I won’t. I promise. You just saw me cross my heart.”

This moment could have made or broken the relationship. I wasn’t really prepared for this to come already, we hadn’t even gotten anywhere and we’d already hit our first hurdle.

“ I like… wrestling.” As soon it escaped my lips it felt like a mistake. It was out there now, hanging nauseously in the air.

Without skipping a beat, Eddie shrugged.

“Cool.”

And just like that, the moment passed. I wasn’t being judged. I… no we got past it. Okay. Cool.

Eddie did not dig deeper into that and then looked at me.

“What kind of music do you like?”

“Oh, like… all kinds. Mostly just rock music.”

“Cool. Who is your favorite band?”

I didn’t have one. The reality was my music knowledge really came from Spencer and he was mostly into ‘80’s and 90’s bands. I only heard some other songs on the radio or in a movie that maybe caught my interest.

“Uh… I don’t know. Stone Sour, I guess.”

“Cool.”

“What do you like to listen to?” I asked, hoping to get off of me and onto him.

“Punk.” He said confidently.

“Oh, you mean like Green Day or The Offspring?”

Eddie looked at me like I had 3 heads. Then he laughed.

“You think that’s punk?” He said, almost incredulous.

“I don’t know, I don’t listen to Punk really.”

“No, no, I will have to have you listen to real punk music.

“Oh, okay.”

As we got closer, Eddie got himself a car. A 2012 Chevy Camaro. Eddie would come and pick me up for school, so I no longer had to ride the bus. He loved working on cars, which is one of the reasons he didn’t care about school. He loved working on cars and did it in his spare time and got a job after finishing school at a garage. He took extra special care of that car. He loved it.

And it was sexy.

Black with red stripes on the hood. It had a soft top and looked even better with the top down. I learned to drive in that car. The only thing that I didn’t like was that it was a stick shift but Eddie was patient and taught me how to drive it. I loved that car, and Eddie promised that when I graduated, if there was one around, he’d fix one up for me.

I had a goal headed into my senior year.

But, that’s when it all fell apart.

When I was 14, Charlie had begun taking an interest in me again. He all of a sudden wanted to be a dad after basically 13 years of nothing. Now he was interested in things I was doing. He didn’t really care, but he pretended to. I had Eddie meet him once and only once, and Charlie wasn’t sober enough to even remember this. He was borderline passed out when I did.

“Dad, this is Eddie, he’s my boyfriend.”

“Pleased to meet you, sir.” Eddie said, extending his hand.

Charlie stared for a long time. He said nothing, he did nothing. It was like he didn’t hear it at all. Eddie kept his hand extended for an embarrassingly long time before retracting it. Charlie finally looked up.

“Just remember to wear a rubber.”

I was mortified. That was my dad. That’s what he said the first time meeting my boyfriend. I was just completely done.

“Uh.. yeah… sure will.” Eddie stumbled out with.

“Let’s go.” I said to Eddie, as Charlie seemed to doze off to sleep.

We walked out and I was apologizing profusely. I had never been so embarrassed in my life. I was nearly in tears.

“Hey, it’s cool. Your dad is… uh… yeah, he’s whatever. It’s not your fault.”

Eddie and I grew closer after that and maybe in some weird way Charlie helped with that. I don’t know. I don’t want to give him too much credit.

But that’s when Charlie began to request I accompany him after work to bars. I was shown off to his co-workers like I was some kind of prize. I didn’t want to be there, but Charlie kept insisting that I needed to mingle with people. I was 14 when it started so being in a bar felt uncomfortable anyway, and then it was a bunch of drunk, lonely men who were now eyeing me like this.

I was 18 now, and it became increasingly uncomfortable because I had known these men who were in their ‘40’s and 50’s and now it was like… they were giving me gifts and hitting on me.

And with Eddie out of school and working full time, there wasn’t a way out of this on my own. I had to endure it and my school work began to suffer as a result. Senior year was a slog because I was exhausted all the time being out til 2am some nights and having school at 7am. I was so smothered and trapped and I just didn’t want to do this anymore.

Eddie finally came back around in April 2018. He would come by occasionally, but he wasn’t going to stop Charlie from doing anything. So I was trapped with him as long as he wanted it to be. But Eddie was the one to finally get me to face my enemy. We sat in his car late one night, and we had that talk.

“Listen, Frankie… It’s been so long since I saw you and I think you… I think you need to get out of that house.” He said, serious as a heart attack.

“What?”

“Listen, Jelly, this is getting out of hand.” He said shaking his head before stroking my cheek.

“I can’t just leave, Eddie.” I shot back.

“Yes. You can. I’m just worried about what might happen to you.”

“I still have so much to do, Eddie. I don’t want to pick up and start over.”

“You should, before you can’t.” He said, staring me dead in the face. “It’s not too early to start over.”

I looked at him and he saw the tears rolling down my face.

“My mom was 18 when she made that mistake. I don’t want to make the same one.”

“This is different, Jelly. You NEED to get out of there. This is toxic.”

This went on for a long time, but the more he talked, the more I listened, and the more I knew he was right. I needed to leave. But how do I do this?

Eddie accompanied me into the house where Charlie was asleep in his chair, several beer cans taking their usual spot around him. My mother was of course asleep upstairs on her pills.

“Dad?” I said.

No response, as usual.

“Sir. I think we need to talk.”

Eddie’s voice was unfamiliar to Charlie, who stirred from sleep, and when his eyes focused, he didn’t recognize Eddie, and in his drunken stupor, didn’t recognize me. He reached down and pulled a pistol from under his chair and aimed it straight at us.

“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

There was a moment, I thought that maybe, just maybe, my dad would snap out of it and see that it was his daughter that he was pointing a gun at...

but he did not. The gun was aimed, shaking and waving back and forth.

“Let me get my stuff and we’ll go.” I whispered. Eddie turned and left the house as I walked away to my room. I grabbed only a few things, like toiletries and a few changes of clothes. I found a few plastic bags and put them in. I grabbed my laptop and other essential electronics, chargers, batteries and the like. I didn’t really know what to pack or bring with me because I wasn’t planning on coming back.

I grabbed what I felt I needed and walked past my mother’s room. I didn’t know what to think of this woman at this point. Or how she would react or even notice. I stood there for a moment, and then… that was it. Charlie was already passed out again and I threw the stuff into the backseat of Eddie’s car. I got it, and I had no choice but to accept it.

“Let’s go” I said, staring straight ahead.

“Alright.”

And just like that… I left the chains of love behind.

And got different ones.


Are we good now?

Any more “Queens” hanging around the roster? Can we move on from that? Please let that be the end of it.
And now we get everyone’s favorite.

Two people having a one on one match soon become a tag team! Yay! Are you excited to see how Kayla and I get along before we fight each other? Do you care? Not really, and it’s against two charity cases to boot. Oh boy!

Fine, if you wish, that’s what will happen. Not that it will matter. We’ve got this match in the bag, folks.

Because I am teaming with the Bombshell’s world champion and she’s better than everybody! That’s right, I’m not worried about anything because Kayla Richards is leading the team! I’m set!

Well aye-aye captain! Why don’t you just go ahead and show me how good of a leader you are. I mean, clearly you don’t need me to do much of anything because you are so good and they are so very bad. This should be a piece of cake with you leading the charge, right? You really shouldn’t need me at all. You’re the best in the world at this stuff, right?

Oh, I’m just fucking with ya, Kayla. I know you probably after hearing that expect me to stand on the apron and not tag in and let you do all the work in some devious attempt to wear you down before Summer XXXtreme. It’s classic, it’s how it would normally go too. I mean, if I was going to do something like that, this is the best opportunity to do it. I could sit on the steps and not even watch. Because I mean, you should be able to handle this by yourself anyway.

But I wouldn’t do that to you. No, no, that’d be too easy. Then you’d have an excuse to fall back on. No, no, I am 100% committed to this team. You and I in this one match are going to make them wish they never retired the bombshell’s tag team titles! That’s how great of a team we can be! I will be there, hand outstretched for the tag should you need me. I mean, you shouldn’t… but if you do, I will be there.

But let’s not act like there’s going be an anchor tied to your ass either.

I know full well you can walk out on me, just as easily as I can walk out on you. But let’s be honest, we both just want to get this match over with, and an unnecessary loss over something like that is conduct unbecoming of a champion and number one contender. We should be better than that. And for those few precious minutes that we have to team, we will be.

But let’s just move on here.

Seleana Zdunich and Diamond Caldwell.

Well let’s just state the obvious here and congratulate both of them for remembering to do their interviews and promos for this match in the first place. I know, first time jitters got me too, but this is kind of our job, so it’s nice to hear from you when the time is at hand.

Well, no, I’d rather not hear from either of you at this point considering that you two are literally connected by Crystal both-of-your-last-names. Think about that for a second ladies. Why are you even still pretending like Crystal gives a flying fuck about either of you?

Especially you, Seleana. Crystal has stomped on your heart right in front of your face and laughed afterwards she’s caused you so much emotional damage. And you, just stand there and take it. I know the feeling of feeling like you should stand up for yourself, but when I needed to, I did it. You on the other hand, continue to drown in your own Crystal related swamp.

And at this point, I’m tired of hearing about it, or seeing it written on your face each and every time you have to come on screen. Why would you continue to do this to yourself? I guess maybe that somewhere deep down, you still “love” her, but it’s pretty clear to me that you need to drop that and move on with your life because your career has suffered the entire time since.

You are such a strange case, because despite being a former Bombshell’s world champion, you are viewed as a joke. I don’t know if we can class you as an underachiever or an overachiever. Because you’ve somehow managed to be both at the same time. Wrestling fans and internet trolls alike are all wondering if you being a world champion is a complete fluke, or a hint of what you are capable of. Of course that was like 3 or 4 years ago and I’m here to render the verdict.

Seleana Zdunich, you’re just… there.

You’re neither over or under achieving. You exist and that’s about as good as you can hope for at this point. Part of me wishes that when I’ve changed everything around here that I could do something with you, but at this point, it’s like a potted plant on the steps. I could keep it, I could remove it, but will anyone actually notice? So many people have tried so hard to get you to do more than you do, and it’s unfortunate the stench of Crystal just permeates through you. No one would want to touch you. She has made you toxic.

And so, you will continue to simply be here. Show up, do your duty and fight for the lost cause of your love life instead of yourself, and you will continue to be just… one of the bombshells hanging on the roster. I don’t know if there’s anything I can really do with you to make you stand out. You had the chance to do that so many times that it’s a waste of my time and frankly your time to even bother.

I would say I’m sorry Seleana, but I can’t be when you can’t see the forest for the trees.

Diamond, you on the other hand, you have potential.

There’s still time for you to also get away from that toxicity. You have the chance before it’s too late. You see what happened two weeks ago, you thought perhaps Crystal would protect you or make your landing in a new place easy. But that didn’t happen, did it? She watched you fall flat on your face right out of the gate and did nothing to help you. The only thing she was concerned with was then getting the name correct for your next huge embarrassing failure.

She’s not coaching you up, preparing you anything is she? And you are married to this woman? Why on earth would you do something so dumb? Was this like a pity thing? You still have the chance to start over, and be your own person, Diamond. You can be a diamond, but hey, you hear your own wife talk don’t you? You hear and see how your own wife is now more concerned with teaming with another person, a champion, instead of you? Why is SHE not in this match, Diamond? Why is your wife not teaming with you?  Why is she sticking you with her baggage? You have seen what Crystal has done to Seleana, so you have to be aware that the same fate awaits you, right?

I just want you to pay attention and understand the obvious. And if you do, and you make the correct move, when I change this place, you will be ready to take the spot that you should have that Crystal is occupying. You know that as long as she’s around, she’s going to put herself first. She’s going to rob you of all your opportunities and throw you to the wolves every chance she gets. You can do yourself and the world a favor and just take her out of the picture, and stand on your own.

You know you want to.

You would instantly be a hero around here. Instantly. You can make that choice, Diamond.

Or, you can choose to be exactly like your partner and suffer greatly for it.

Let’s face it, you’re cannon fodder again this week. If you don’t make the move after this, if you don’t consider this a wake-up call, you’re going to be doomed to the level of mediocrity that Seleana has fallen to and that Crystal has fallen to. She’s going to bring you down with her if you continue to stand with her. You still have the chance to make a true name for yourself, other than Crystal’s “other wife.”

And no, I don’t really care how your relationship works, I just know you clearly have a terrible person as the connection between you.

And this is coming from me. I know I’m a terrible person. I’m actively trying to break up three people in a dead-end relationship. I’ve told people to do some horrible things, said and done horrible things. I am a piece of shit person. But you are married to far worse person.

The only person who doesn’t see it, is you.

So, Seleana and Diamond, I have laid out the truth in front of you both.

You two are just not going to win this match, but there’s at least a good thing, a positive thing you can take from it.

Remove the cancer from your lives and maybe you can enjoy what’s out there.

It’s a pretty easy choice to make if you ask me.

But, I know you won’t listen to me, you think I’m just fucking with you to drive a wedge between you. You think I’m just talking shit to get in your head.

I don’t need to. Not this week, I have the champ on my team. I’m good.

I’m just giving you information. Just telling you the truth. A choice you can make to make your life better.
Everyone else who has failed to listen to me has lost.
it will be much easier if you listen.

Trust me.

12
Climax Control Archives / Chapter 3: The Children Are Our Future (Part 5/6)
« on: June 06, 2025, 09:06:06 PM »
I told you to believe me.
I told you I would do exactly what I said I would.
I am the Blast From the Past winner.

Boy it’s really quiet all of a sudden. I was a pretender. I wasn’t ready. I was manufactured chaos. I was all bark and no bite. I was just a rookie.

Where did all that noise go?

Because I didn’t just sneak out a win, I didn’t roll someone up from behind, I didn’t steal a pin after someone else did the damage. Oh. no. I dropped Mikah with the Ode to Amber Ryan, and gave Laura the Black River Falls and pinned Laura in the middle of the ring. No excuses, no ifs ands or buts.

And now, I have a date at Summer XXXtreme on a cruise ship. A dance partner for that evening. Kayla Richards.

But, that comes in due time.

Because I have some pointless busy work to do until then.

Just like my high school days.

Oh yes, we’re just getting started on my journey.

Shall I continue?

You’ll love this next part.


The worst part about High school is that it just doesn’t end.

It all starts there. A life-long stigma can be attached to you there. You are judged there, labeled there. And it just keeps going. Long after you graduate or leave school, people remember you. We don’t do middle school or elementary school reunions, we do high school ones. Why? There’s no difference, except for literally pettiness. Do you really care about people from your high school? No. No you don’t.

And why?

Because no matter who you are, or where you went to school, you meet and have to deal with the same like 8 people from high school all through life.

I like to label people.

The One-upper. You know, that person that when you tell a story, they have to top your story for no reason? They always have to do one better?
The Two-face. The ones that smile in your face and the moment you are out of sight, they shit on you to everyone in earshot.
The Brown-noser.
The person who never mentally leaves high school.

The list goes on and on. The names, faces, and sometimes genders of these people swap. But… they never go away. You just become more perceptive of them in high school. They persist throughout your life.

Forget the whole thing with the classes being even worse. Because I don’t know about you, but pre-calculus can suck a dick. And I’m never going to write anything and use feminine lens. Why? Because it’s just busy work. It’s impractical. Useless. All the while, you are dealing with the drama of high school classmates whose brains don’t understand risk/reward. This is why we are fucking lunatics as teenagers.

That's because, by design, the teenage brain is built in such a way that impressing other people is more or less the prime imperative, and when you combine this with the thrill of risk-taking, their brains are flooded with excitement. They literally get high off it. In general, this is a good thing for the continuation of the species since, you know, otherwise kids would never move out of their parents' basements and into the real world full of STDs and paperwork.

Know the right people, get ahead in life. Nothing else, just know them. And occasionally, do something ridiculous to get ahead.

And it just goes on like this. High School never ends.
It’s why I didn’t finish it until I understood that lesson.




When Middle school ended, The school was still in mourning over Spencer. He even got a memorial with his class picture on it outside the school.

I had to walk by it everyday. It sucked to have to look at his smiling face and know that, perhaps I had something to do with why he wasn’t here anymore, but I certainly didn’t need a reminder of it.

From all the stories I read about things on Reddit about terrible high school first days and all these awful things that would happen to a freshman, I expected the worst to hit me and I was going to be bullied and shoved in a locker and have my lunch money taken and stuff like that.

None of it happened.

Nobody cared that I was in the high school building. Nobody even noticed me. Those who were sophomores or higher paid me little to no attention. I did have a bit of a reputation as being smart, or a “nerd” but… this was a charter school that called itself an “Academy of Science” So, pretentiousness was already running pretty rampant here anyway.

No, most days went off without any issues. It was the same people from before who knew me, but now we were in the high school building. I just did the things I always did. As anxious as I was about high school, my freshman year was a breeze. I never really had trouble with any class, other than staying awake because most of the shit was boring.

But I also encountered teachers who really… they really stopped giving a shit. Elementary and middle school had teachers who were bright eyed and bushy-tailed about teaching and helping students and relating to them. The teachers in the high school building really just stopped caring, mostly because, I mean, this is 2015, everybody has a phone and people just up and quit the school because they can make money on Youtube and not have to do anything. Anything you really needed to know, you could just look up anyway.  We’re in the era where “Google that shit” became a rational answer to asking a question.

We destroyed knowledge.

So why would the teachers care?

I got my taste of that when I sat down in my freshman Global history class. My teacher, Ms. Stevens, who shared that fake smile that so many people share. The one where we’re polite to the person we dislike until they are out of earshot. It was snarky. It was sassy.

The bell rang, she closed the door and sat down.

Good afternoon class, this is Global history 1. I’m Ms. Stevens. We’re going to be more in depth on the early civilizations and we’re going to cover a wide range of history across the world.” She had clearly given the speech a time or twenty.

"This course is broken into 10 units. The stone and bronze age, the iron age, post-classical and middle ages, the crusades, the ottoman empire, the ming dynasty, the transformations of Europe, Africa, the pre-1600 US, and global conflict. There will be a unit test at the end covering the important topics.”

The indifference from most hit hard.

“I will be honest with you, the information in this class will only interest a few of you. While it is important, it’s not relevant to most of you. In fact, it would not surprise me if most of you skipped this class. And I honestly wouldn’t blame you.” She said with a shrug.

“You have to pass the class, so I suggest showing up and trying. But, if you skip, it’s no skin off my back.” she added.

There she was, actively encouraging skipping the class like it wasn’t a big deal. But in a way, she was giving everyone the option and telling them the truth. History can be fun, but it isn’t until you get to the holy wars and explorers and how batshit crazy was in medieval times that it gets that way. And it takes a long time to get there.

So, it was a trek through for like 5 months until it got actually interesting.

Math was Algebra and some Geometry. Nobody likes algebra. It just isn’t fun and is just a huge pain in the ass. Nobody enjoys adding and subtracting fucking fractions. The less said about it, the better.

English class suffers the most in the school system. You really don’t get a lot out of it. Book reports, interpreting the same way a teacher interprets it or you are wrong. Everybody reads “To Kill A Mockingbird”, “1984” or “Lord of the Flies”, but there isn’t much in the way of discussion and actively going over the important things and knowing why things happen. It makes us, as people, not want to read.

Even if your school assigns a hilarious and subversive book like Catch-22, it's going to be hard for you to really fall in love with it, because you're not thinking, "Let's check out this book!" You're thinking, "Shit, I have to read three chapters by Wednesday and there's gonna be a quiz about it." School puts reading three chapters of an amazing book in the same mental category of memorizing history dates and trying to crack calculus problems.

And that’s really because school, and high school especially, makes everything feel like you need it. “You don’t need to understand it, you just need to know the answers to this quiz.”

The one saving grace I had was science. Biology was fun. Labs were interesting.

I remember being in Biology and learning about human anatomy and how things evolve and it was super interesting. Labs were always fun, playing with bunsen burners always drew my excitement. I mean, I got to look at bacteria and learn how antibiotics work. I got to learn how to figure out a person’s blood type. The shit was interesting to me. It made me want to learn more.

And then, our lab was dissecting a frog.

Pop culture always has this one, and yes, I did it.

I remember that day well.

My lab partner for all these was a girl named Jennifer Jolie and she was kind of a stoner. She really didn’t contribute much in any way and many times wasn’t even there. But I was there. I was ready for it.

My teacher, Mr. Riley, was quirky. He was older and spent many, many classes talking about his Military service and how he didn’t like it. He was a hippie at heart and hated wearing a dress shirt and tie, but he did it, because that was his job.

“Oh, but the way, I know some of you may be adverse to doing this. So, this is entirely voluntary. There will be another lab next week that will count as this lab. And if you are doing this lab and still want to do the lab next week, it will be extra credit.”

He passed out the frogs in our lab with a smile.

This was one of the days I worked alone. I looked at my frog as we began. Step by step, I cut up that frog and I was maybe enjoying it too much. I wanted to see everything inside of the frog. I wanted to go ahead of the steps. I wanted to just go to town and cut this frog up, but there was a process. I followed along and before I knew it, I was pulling the skin off and cutting through the abdomen and finding all the organs and muscles and it just hooked me.

Little did I know just how much it would be with me in the future.

But yeah, freshman year was a breeze.

Sophomore year was where I encountered my first real hiccup when it came to learning.

Maybe it’s because I don’t like math, but all of a sudden radicals and exponential forms confused me. I could not understand this, and my general disdain for math clearly was affecting how I went about trying to figure it out. It was one of those things that I knew I had to learn, but didn’t want to. But the trouble was annoying.

I went to my teacher, Mr. Hodder after a class.

“I’m just not getting this.” I said, pointing at the paper with the homework questions on it.

Mr. Hodder would assign homework and give you 5 questions. He would then ask at the beginning of class each day if anyone had any questions about any of the problems as he wrote the answers on the chalkboard. Most students would simply take advantage of this and write his answers before handing their homework in. Mr. Hodder appeared to not really care.

“You know, you can just copy my answers.” He said with a completely deadpan reaction.

“Yes, I could, but I don’t learn anything that way.” I answered.

Mr. Hodder looked at me for a second, and then laughed. Like, full out loud belly laugh. He thought I was joking. He stopped after I stared at him in disbelief.

“You know you don’t really need to know this stuff, right?” He said, again dead serious.

I continued to stare at this man who was my teacher, just so done with everything. I walked away and from that moment, I really stopped giving a shit about school outside of science. English was lame, Math sucked, and I found out when it came to History classes that the best shit was in all the books that weren’t my history book.

I became interested in other things, and finally, my hormones really kicked into high gear and I got my boobs to grow. Without my mother being able to help me, I again turned to the internet to figure out the development stages of life. I developed an interest in boys, though as I observed most high school relationships were strained at best and cringe-worthy at worst.

Until I found myself attracted to a boy.

He was tall, but not too tall. He had long hair and tattoos. I think that’s what did it for me, the tattoos. It made him look cool, and dangerous. He was a junior. I was smitten.

His name was Eddie.

The only problem was, Eddie had a girlfriend. Missy Egan. They seemed to be in love and care for each other. I saw them over and over walking the hallways, holding hands, and even kissing. It made me very upset. I don’t know why I was like this, I knew only that this wasn’t going to do. No, this wouldn’t do at all.

I came up with a plan to break them up. I got Missy’s socials, and created multiple fake accounts, all following each other to create a network of people. I created fake screenshots of DM’s displaying Eddie messaging other girls and trying to hook up with them. I sent them to Missy and I backed myself up with all my accounts.

And then they broke up.

Eddie was caught off guard because Missy brought these screenshots to school, and confronted him in front of everyone. Crying and acting hysterical. Eddie got angry, constantly denying the accusations, and they got into a huge fight. Everything went according to plan. Eddie was angry and hurt, and Missy went on slandering his name to everyone, making Eddie a pariah.

And that’s when I made my move.

I found Eddie outside the school at lunch, smoking in a corner where there was no camera. I sat near him as he paid me no mind. I looked over at him and smiled.

“I don’t think you’re a bad guy. I think Missy is crazy.”

He looked at me, unsure if I was serious, but perked up when he say I was.

“Yeah, thanks I guess.”

“I’m Frankie.”

“I’m Eddie.”

I love it when a plan comes together.



You know, I should be on top of the world right now.
But instead, I just feel like this is more busy work.

Victoria Lyons.

I thought this was over and done with?

Why are we still doing this whole “queen” thing?

It’s like a terrible video game where you only have a set amount of archetypes to choose from. Is “Queen” like the default one? Or it is "Crazy"? Why are people still on this? Do you have a crown too Victoria? Jesus Christ, Is this just like some kind of sick joke that I’m just not in on? I don’t understand this. At all.

So, Victoria, you were queen or you are queen and that’s just dumb. You are dumb. I still can't believe that this is a thing still. How many more queens do I have to go through before this just ends? I can’t even begin to tell you how disappointing this is.

This is just like a DLC or something, because you also fancy yourself crazy? You also talk to yourself, and weirdly call your brother “dear brother”. You are just a mis-mash of things hoping that something somewhere makes somebody pay attention to you. But hey, you do you, I guess. Not that it will matter in a few weeks time anyway.

Yes, Victoria, at the end of all this, I’m going to change you too. I will slap you so hard upside the head that maybe the voices will come back in your head, but the only voice you really need to listen to is mine. You do understand that no matter what you have accomplished, or will accomplish, what you represent, is failure. The Lyon’s Den will always just be a group of people, trying to prop up something that doesn’t even deserve to be propped up. You understand that no one really takes the Lyon’s den seriously, right?

I mean, I’ve only been in Sin City Wrestling for like a month, and I have heard so many people mocking the Lyon’s Den, and some of them will even do it to your face. At the end of the day, the Lyon’s Den is a lost cause and if you were smart, you would leave it all behind. You would stand on your own and make your own name instead of trying to build up this failing entity.

The only successful members are you, and Eddie. You two could stand alone and still be the Lyon’s Den, because the rest of them are dragging you down. That’s the real issue. Everything you do, it’s all in the name of the group. But I mean, it looks like nobody else is pulling their weight. This is why you should leave. Get away from that group and maybe, just maybe someone might care. You know that you’re giving these people every opportunity you can, and they have given you zero in Sin City Wrestling. They are taking up space when you are on camera. The focus becomes whatever the hell your brother is talking about because you give him that power. You give him that space.

Too bad he sucks too.

Anyway, You, Victoria, should be able to stand on your own and be somebody. But instead, you’re just… part of the Lyon’s den.

It’s supposed to be all for one and one for all or something, isn’t it? Instead it just feels like it’s you, dragging this failed group as far as you can, and it’s weighing you down. You need to be set free, Victoria.

But if you want to hang around with losers, you will be labeled a loser.

Oh, I know, I know, you are the Roulette champion. You’ve been champion for almost a year! You should be respected! I should respect you!

News flash: I don’t respect many people. Especially if they are standing across from me in the ring and trying to stop me from doing what needs to be done.

But more importantly, that should garner respect. It is an accomplishment worth talking about. It is something you should be proud of and people should be acknowledging. You would be correct in assuming all of those things, because they are true. No one has done what you have done and no one has been able to take that  title off you. You should be a big deal.

But nobody cares.

You’re just the chick in the Lyon’s den who thinks she’s a queen and might be crazy and some other stuff.

Weren’t you supposed to be leading a “new generation” of people and “waking up the masses”? What happened to that? I mean, if you just wanted to win a championship and call that “leading” that leaves a lot to be desired. No one is “waking up” to Lyon's Den, Victoria. They just don’t care.

I mean, I walked into this company a month ago, and beat champions, hall of farmers and legends. I hold victories over 7 people in 3 different matches. I came in and rose straight to the top. I am the winner of the Blast from the Past. In 3 matches, I am further along than you. I have a guaranteed world Bombshell’s championship match at Summer XXXtreme, and you will probably be in some match where you’re dangling over a pool to keep your title, if you still have it by then.

We are not the same, Victoria.

And you know why that is? Because I stand on my own, and you have several anchors tied to your ass dragging you down.

The Lyon’s Den is a joke. You should walk away before you turn into a total caricature of a person.

Which isn't far off from what I’ve seen.

You’re going around thinking you’re a queen and have total authority over people.
You had a throne and everything.
People openly defied this, because they didn’t take you seriously.
And you are… upset about it. Like really mad that someone broke your throne which is a decoration at best.

This is just me, with my own eyes, observing you. Most queens, or kings, if they know what they’re doing, rule with an iron fist. You haven’t. Nobody respects your fictitious authority. No matter how long you have held or will hold the Roulette championship. And they never will.

Now, this is where I could have stepped in and helped you. In fact, I am helping you right now! I’m opening your eyes to the truth. You need to stand alone and ditch the Lyon’s den before it ruins everything more than it has.

Of course, why would you listen to me, right? What do I know?

I could be just filling your head with nonsense to distract you.

But am I?

You seem distracted as it is.

The mere fact that you have some weird obsession with the whole queen thing to the point where you think I’m some kind of mercenary working for Alexandra Callaway is laughable at best. I don’t work for anybody. I wasn’t going to really bother with you, but the fact that you think this way has now changed the whole dynamic. Now I’m actually glad I was picked for this match. Now you aren’t the pointless busy work that I thought. You are now just lucky that this isn’t a championship match. Because I would be taking the Roulette title from you. Alexandra made the match, and made it a street fight, allowing me the freedom to beat you with whatever I see fit. Alexandra just knows I’m going to do so and would very much like to see you in pain, which I find quite humorous.

You see how doing this made you so many enemies, Victoria? And who from the Lyon’s Den is going to help you in this match? None of them. You can say all you want that you don’t need them, because you’re going to “kill my momentum” all by yourself, right?

The truth is… you can’t.

All a win does for you is give you a check mark in a column. It means zero to the overall picture. You can’t take away my championship match with Kayla. You can’t stop anything besides an undefeated record of 3-0. And really, that’s not all that impressive. What I have earned, you cannot take away. But that part is irrelevant anyway, because I'm going to beat you, just like I beat Mikah, Just like I beat Julianna, just like I did Lilith and Laura. You are no different. Another person to move out of the way.

In the grand scheme of things I’m just, really another piece on the table in your game with Alexandra. But I’m not a knight, bishop or rook on this chessboard. I’m just a pawn.

But you see, the pawn can become any piece it wants to be, provided it makes it to the other side of the board. And I’m only a couple of moves away from it. And there’s nothing you can do to stop that. I will make that next move and become a more powerful piece. You just have to watch as it’s done. You're a queen piece and you are in danger. You didn’t see the move that’s going to take you off the board because you were too busy looking to see what you could take.

A classic mistake.

And so, on Sunday, I will make the move and take you off the board. Because that’s how this works, Victoria. You will be removed, no longer a threat to me, and I will leave you to wonder what happened. And the reality is, I’m doing you a favor by doing so. You wanted to lead a new generation and wake up the masses, right? It’s safe to say that you failed at that, and you need to be replaced.

And that’s what I’m here to do.

I’m going to change you, and free you of that burden. You are no longer fit to lead anything. This is my job. It’s my mission. It’s what I’m doing. That’s the truth. I am the leader. You have shown you can’t lead. You are much better off being a follower. And who better to follow than me! I am the future!

I have a plan. I’m changing this whole place and at the end of the day, I will re-shape you and everyone else to how I see fit. You will no longer have to worry about any of it, because it is clearly too much for you to handle. You can’t even be queen correctly. Leading everyone is not the task for you. It will be better this way.

And then I will relieve you of the burden of your group. You can freely leave the Lyon’s Den ship before it sinks, and stand on your own. Because the alternative is not an option you really want to explore. Because it will just make you a victim of repeating history.

Kings and Queens who don’t rule with an iron fist, and ensure they are in charge and have all their bases covered? Eventually, revolution happens and those in authority are deposed. They are overthrown and then exiled. Or… they are executed. Happens all the time. Consider this your show trail, Victoria. You’re already guilty of the crimes committed, and we will all go through the motions, and then… you will be dealt with.

Is that what you want, Victoria? I don’t think it is. You have options. But I know, your pride will cause you to be a fool and try and stop me.

You can’t stop a revolution. You can’t stop evolution.

And Sunday, that point will be made painfully clear to you.

Just think about what I said. Think about what you could be.
Or don’t. And suffer the consequences. I don’t mind a little blood on my hands. It wouldn’t be the first time.

The choice is yours. It’s not hard. It will be better if you just listen.

Trust me.

13
Supercard Archives / Re: FRANKIE HOLLIDAY v MIKAH v LAURA PHOENIX - 2025 BFTP FINALS
« on: May 23, 2025, 07:07:27 AM »
Stockholm, Denmark, and now… Paris.

Not the three places I would have expected to wrestle for my debut, but here we are.

Beating Melissa, Lilith Locke and Julianna DiMaria? Also not on the people I would have expected to face and beat to get to the finals. But here we are.

Beating Mikah and Laura Phoenix to win the whole fucking thing? Unexpected, for sure.

But I am the unknown. I am the unexpected.

I am full of surprises.

Ready for more?

Paris is going to be something else.

I am going to win the blast from the past tournament.

A change is coming, and sacrifices will be made.

But it will all be worth it.



Trust me.



My morning routine had been quite extensive once my mother lost her license. She was relegated to the house, and it made her very claustrophobic. I had to get myself up and ensure my mother was first, alive, and then awake. I ensured she took her Zofolt, the upper to get her day started along with coffee. Without those two things, I don’t know if she could function. All before getting myself ready and at the bus stop on time.

Charlie would occasionally be awake when I left the house. It all depended on if he had some job to do. But no matter what, it was up to me to get myself ready and prepared for school. It became like a job. More like an internship or volunteering thing, because it wasn’t like I was getting paid. The point being that my mother basically became a non-factor in my development. Things were happening to me and I didn’t understand them and there was no one to teach me. But when I think about it, what could my mother teach me? She was plucked away from her life before she understood it either.

So, you know, when blood started coming out of my vagina, it was a strange and scary experience. I mean, I was 13, and now, I’m just bleeding. Luckily, I had the internet to show me what the hell was going on with my body. My mother was in no condition to actually help me. I got through it, but it’s a bit much to bleed for 5 days without explanation.

The point is, I was the head of my house when I was 13. I did these things because they needed to be done, and no one else was going to do them. But when I needed help? There was no person to guide me. Only strangers on the internet.

But rather than fold, I just kept going.

And that made me better than most of the other children.

I spent most of 7th grade really trying to find some method to get revenge on Melissa for something she hadn’t done yet and never would. And all she ever did was be nice to me. I hated it. I hated her. Like, I spent way too much time really thinking about how I didn’t like her. I could have done a number of things, but all of them seemed too risky. Although people fought all the time in middle school. For the smallest, dumbest things. I could’ve just thrown food on her, or something like this. Claimed it was an accident. These were my real thoughts at the time.

Then, I just sort of dropped it, because of a boy.

Not a boyfriend or anything, because middle school relationships are weird. But just… a friend. Kind of.

His name was Spencer. I had art class with him. Spencer was a talented artist. He could draw landscapes like Bob Ross. He could draw people, places, animals, anything he wanted. He was also quiet and rarely said anything. I don’t know why I got this connection, but I felt it. I was just infatuated with him. I wanted to know about him.

Then I saw him in the cafeteria. For some reason, I was nervous and I walked over to where he was sitting. No one else was there, just him. I sat down and Spencer was drawing something and looked up at me. He seemed confused as to why I would be sitting there, but he didn’t say anything. I had my ear buds in and sat there, watching him draw, and eating. He was meticulous in his work. After a few minutes, he looked up again and we made eye contact.

“Hey.” I said, pulling my ear buds out.

It took him a second, but he finally spoke up. “Hey.”

It felt like forever again, but I finally spoke again “I like your drawing. You’re really good at it.”

He just nodded. I figured that was the end of the conversation, but he looked back at me, and gestured to my phone.

“What are you listening to?” He asked.

“Oh, just some music.” I said. Yeah, of course I was. That was a stupid answer.

“I know. What music?”

“Oh. Um… Stone Sour.” I finally came back.

“Cool.” He answered, before returning to his drawing.

And that was the end of the conversation.

It went on for a few days, I would come and sit with him, he was always alone and always drawing. But gradually, we started having longer conversations. But the ice was broken and we both saw that the one wasn’t out to get the other.

There was a point where we both ended up staying after school. It was late, so Charlie, if he wasn’t hammered by then, would have to pick me up. But I would have to wait. Spencer saw me and we sat on this little school bench.

“Why did you stay after school?” he asked, sitting down

“I had an extra science lab I volunteered to do.” I said.

“Oh.” He replied. Then a beat. “Do you like it here?”

“I… guess.” I said, not really knowing how to answer the question.

“I hate it here.” He said sharply. “Everybody just sucks.”

“Yeah, some people are really shitty.”

“You mean you like the people too?” He questioned.

“I mean, they aren’t all bad.”

“There has to be someone you don’t like.” He said, now genuinely curious.

“I.. I don’t like Melissa.” I answered.

“Really? Why?”

“ I… I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I just… don’t like her. That’s really it. What about you? You said you don’t like anybody.”

“Because they pick on me.” He said. His tone was lowering and sounding morose.

“Oh. Yeah, that sucks.”

“Does Melissa pick on you?”

“No. She’s actually really nice.” I answered with a shrug.

“Then, why do you hate her?” He was extremely confused.

“I don’t know. I just do.”

“Oh.”

He pulled out his sketch pad and started doodling.

“You said everybody sucks. Do… do I suck?” I asked.

He looked up at me and shrugged.

“No. I think you’re cool, actually. You don’t judge me.”

The reason why anybody judged Spencer was because he looked like he rolled out of bed with his clothes on everyday. He wore glasses and ratty shoes. When we were sharing our miserable life stories, he told me his parents were divorced and  his mom was on disability. He wasn’t really poor but he wasn’t doing well from that standpoint. He also had pretty bad acne when I met him. But he was in a pretty shitty situation, just like me.

I felt a sense of pride that Spencer didn’t think I sucked. We had a pretty nice thing going from art class and lunch. We would talk all the time and eventually, I found out that Spencer only lived like a mile away from me. So, we started foregoing the bus and walking home together. We didn’t really talk unless we were alone, or at lunch. In which, nobody sat with us anyway, so we could talk about anything.

We started talking about music, pop culture, and the music we liked. We stopped walking one day and he pulled out a big black booklet from his backpack. It contained CD’s which I thought weren’t even a thing anymore. Any music I found was on the internet.

We found a bench and he handed me the booklet.

“This is the music I like.” He said, pretty proud of himself.

Most of the music was older than I was. Stuff from the ‘80’s and ‘90’s. Some early 2000’s stuff was there too. I pulled out my phone and used the notes feature to write the names of bands and songs that Spencer found to be good. As he had often critiqued my music style.

“I will give some of these a listen.” I said.

“Cool. I know you will like it.” He said, still very proud of himself.

I went home, and began searching up the bands, firing up youtube and my eyes were opened to so many actually good bands and songs. The only real music was what my mom listened to on the radio when she would sit and read. But all of a sudden, I was hearing Nirvana, Alice in Chains, & The Smashing Pumpkins. But also Metallica, Anthrax, Pantera & Cannibal Corpse. Like my mind exploded with these new avenues of music.

I began listening and getting as much as I could. And things progressed and Spencer and I were talking music, movies and art all the time. It… it was nice.

In 8th grade, Spencer was in some of my main classes, but we kept our little secret of not talking to each other in front of people. We both went about our business until we were alone.

But then, something else started to happen, where people started just… talking to me after a couple of years of saying nothing. I was still killing classes and tests, even though it was just getting less and less interesting except for science, which started to talk about life sciences and physical sciences, and that was interesting to me. But the kids started talking to me, asking me things, being friendly to me. People genuinely started to like me.

At first I didn’t know how to take it. It felt weird and sudden that these kids, who were popular, all of sudden found me interesting enough to talk to and hang out with. I was just included in conversations before school and in the hallways. I had forgotten all about not liking Melissa because she wasn’t around and these new kids were and they seemed to raise me up on some kind of pedestal.

Suddenly I was popular.

And I liked it.

They needed me. They relied on me. I was like a god-king to them because I was so intelligent. My superiority complex reared its head again and I was on top of the world.

Spencer was not so fortunate.

I was spending less and less time with him, but we still walked home together. But I could tell he was distant. It wasn’t the same as it once was. I had to say something.

“You got any new… or… old music still? Do you have that booklet?”

He stopped, and stared at me.

“No.”

“Oh. Okay.”

We kept walking and I didn’t know what to say to him. He was obviously mad that I wasn’t talking to him as much. I realized that how upset he was and I needed to say something to smooth things over, but what?

“So…” I started “Do you need any help with the homework and stuff?”

“No.”

Again. Sharp, and cold.

“I bet your other friends do though!” He said with another sharp bite.

“You are my friend too though, Spencer.” I said, trying to think of something.

“Yeah, but you like them more than me, Frankie! You are always talking to them and not me!” 

He was right, but our thing was different.

“We never talk in class, we always talk at lunch or like we are now though. That’s our thing.”

He stopped again, looking at me and trying to still be mad at me. But I was right, this was our thing. I talked to him at lunch, and I talked to him walking home, but we rarely if ever spoke in class. But the truth was, even lunch wasn’t the same, I had to almost find an excuse to go and sit with him, as he was almost always alone at his table. And even then, it was only for a few minutes. It wasn’t fair to him. I know that now.

But middle school is a confusing time for us all, and my confusion led to a choice.

Spencer would get picked on, but he usually just moved on and ignored it. But there was a day that it persisted. I had finished gym and was headed to our last class of the day, Science. I was with some of my other classmates who were asking me about the upcoming test and how to do certain math problems, But there was a commotion and there were a large number of kids all crowded around a spot. I walked towards it, the others not really wanting to get close, parted ways with me.

And there he was.

Spencer was on the ground, kids were laughing and three boys were keeping him there. Shouting at him that he was a loser and had no friends. He looked around and he spotted me. I had been looking long enough to know it was him, but I turned away before he saw me. 

“FRANKIE!”

He shouted at the top of his lungs. He screamed it as loud as humanly possible.

It felt like all the heads and eyes turned to me at that point. I could feel them. I had to make a choice.

I acted like I didn’t hear it, and when someone asked if I heard it, I said no. I acted like I couldn't hear through my ear buds.

I marched right out of his sight, ignoring his cries for help.

Sacrifices have to be made when you are a leader.

He confronted me after school on our walk home. I acted shocked and surprised when I saw his face and how torn his clothes were.

“What happened?”

“You saw it! I saw you!” He said, pointing his finger, extremely angry.

“What? Where? I didn’t see anything happen to you. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I lied.

“I. SAW. YOU.”

“I’m telling you Spencer, I didn’t see you. If I did I would have helped.”

“I YELLED YOUR NAME!”

“I didn’t hear you. I must have had my earbuds in maybe. I swear, I don’t know what happened!”

Spencer was silent as we walked home. His pace was far quicker than mine. I nearly had to run to keep up with him. When we reached the spot we would normally split and say good-bye, he just turned. He power walked away, and I sighed and continued on my way home.

Then, after a few days of silence and not talking at all despite my efforts to continue as if nothing happened…

Spencer stopped coming to school. I had his number and I texted him, but the messages remained on sent.

Then we all got the news that Spencer was reported missing. And after 3 weeks, they found him.

Spencer had taken his own life in the woods near his home.

The police interviewed me after they searched his home and found his sketch pad. He drew a number of drawings, and some were of me. He regarded me as a friend. I was his only friend. He wrote it in a journal. He very much enjoyed that I didn’t judge him, and I was there. Because he didn’t have anybody else. Until that day. Though he never mentioned it in his journal. Perhaps he accepted my excuse of not seeing him.

I don’t know, and I’ll never know now.

All I could do was move on.


I must ask this question of you Mikah.
 Actually, several.

Did you really buy yourself a crown?
Did you really put that crown on your head like you were a queen or deserving of wearing a crown?
Did you think this was a cool thing? Like a physical metaphor?
Did you not think that was silly?
Do you use that crown for other things? Is it like a costume party thing?

I mean, obviously you thought it was cool, and made you look like a badass. You’re the queen! You wear the crown because nobody else can wear it!

That is… really the most insecure thing I may have ever seen.

I just want you to stop and think for a second and understand that you went out of your way to buy a crown to wear to talk to people. Like, you really did that. You are really trying to live up to how good you think you are when you know it’s not true. I respect the determination to go with the whole “If I say if enough, people will believe me” thing. Right on.

You piss and moan about being forgotten one week, and then the next you throw on an actual crown like you, after beating Cassie Wolf mind you, have accomplished the goal of being back. How does that work? What makes a person worthy of wearing a crown? You clearly don’t have any royal blood in you, and hold no authority. So, it was symbolism, but again, there just aren’t many people who put you in the list of great bombshells, and even less that would put you at top. In fact, the only person who would, is you.

I for one, was howling with laughter when you put that thing on your head. “I’m the queen, I’m the mountain. I am the crown”  It was a laugh riot to hear you exclaim these things and be so confidently wrong. And what’s even more hilarious is that you don’t even believe the words when you say them. You put an actual crown on your head and said out loud you were the crown. You know that’s so stupid, right? But that’s right, you didn’t come back to chase glory, even though that’s… literally what you are doing, but no, you came back to dominate!

I understand you have to convince yourself of that, and you need a very wide and loose definition of “dominate” in order to do so. You just aren't convincing, Mikah.

If you were truly secure in your legacy, truly able to let it stand on its own, you wouldn’t need to be entering this tournament in the first place. You want to make people your name because you get pushed aside because, let’s face it, others have more important, and more impressive legacies than you do. And we know this, because you keep calling Amber Ryan back to team with you. You really want to just rub elbows with people who outclassed you. T

If Amber Ryan did as you have practically begged her to do, and returned to Sin City Wrestling, what on earth would she need you for? Why would she team with you? There’s no Bombshell’s tag titles anymore, so what’s the point of teaming with you? She can easily win any title she wants. Having you there makes little to no difference. You would be entirely useless to her if she came back.

Amber Ryan does not need you. You need her.

Besides, she likes me more than you, anyway.

She would get no benefit from propping you up, and dragging you along in this nostalgia act. Why do you think she just humors you by politely telling you she’s busy but she’s watching. It’s like you are a child who needs the approval of their mother. Yes Mikah, she’s watching you, you slide down that slide! Good for you!

Wait… do you… do you really think Amber is your friend? Wait… no seriously, you want to have a friend?! Oh my god that’s so precious! Mikah needs a friend. Holy shit.

This fits you a “T” anyway. A desperate, attention whore, who is all “I don’t need anybody’s approval and I’m a bad bitch…” And so on so forth, you know, you say these things all the time. Yet, you continue to need Mark Ward’s approval. You need Amber’s approval. You need Simon Jones’s approval. I mean, you sat there and tried to say that everybody’s attention was on you when it was announced that you were participating in this tournament. But if this were true, you wouldn’t need to reserve your name. This would be something like I would do. I did that, in fact. Because who the hell would know or care about me? You are Mikah, right? You’re supposed to be able to come in and dominate. I mean, if you were that badass, everybody would have just flaked out and canceled and you would have been the automatic winner. But… they didn’t. You hid your entry to try and draw interest when your name was called.

I certainly didn’t see anybody go “Oh no, Mikah is in this!”  It was more “Oh, Mikah’s in this? I thought she was retired?”

No one is afraid of you, or your name anymore. If this was 2016? Maybe. But no matter how bad you want it, it’s just not happening anymore.

On the contrary, it is you, who doesn’t seem to know me. It is you who is afraid of me.

I would assume this is why you threw out wild random ass accusations hoping that one sticks.

I am afraid of you?
I am seeking redemption?
I want to go viral?

What are you even blathering about? Why would I be afraid of you? I’ve studied you for a long time, I have no reason to fear you. You wore a crown on camera like it meant something. Stop it.

Also, I can assure you, I don’t ask, or seek redemption. I am terrible and I know that, and I embrace that. Trust me, you will find that out very soon.

I want to go viral? I don’t even know what you’re on about. I tweet some things I find entertaining for fucks sake, I guess I’m wrong for that?

No, Mikah, I don’t think you know me at all.

So when this is all over, and you lose, I will remind you that this will be your biggest failure. You’re Mikah, you’re supposed to dominate and be the end all be all and that happy horseshit, but at the end of this, you will be an “also took part.” You will be another name I came straight out of the gate and beat. I will be at the top, right away, and I will have the right to say I beat Mikah and exposed her for the fraud she really is. I will snatch her stupid crown from her hands, and I will toss it away.

No, Mikah, I don’t seek redemption.

I seek revolution.

And for any revolution to work, sacrifices have to be made. And you will be one of them.

I am the future.

And I will make you believe.

Trust me.

Moving on to Laura…

Laura, I just want you to understand that this isn’t personal.

It probably felt that way since, you know, I said what I said about Bella and all, but it’s not personal. I don’t really care if you hate my guts now because I said those things, what matters is I am after a prize, and you stand in my way. And I don’t intend on losing to you or Mikah as part of a feel-good storybook ending for you, or whatever Mikah wants to call her nostalgia run. This isn’t about you, or her. It’s about me.

I was simply demonstrating that I will go to any depths, and say the things I need to say to ensure I get the best out of you. And right now, you’re kind of failing in that department. I need you focused, I need you motivated, because I don’t want any excuses from either of you when I win. I want you at your best, because I want you to realize that even at your best, it wasn’t good enough.

The things I said about you and Bella? They were the truth, and I hope they upset you. I hoped they made you mad. I wanted to start a fire in you, I want it to consume you. And just to plant a little bit of fear in you. Because when that fear grows, when it takes hold, I’ll know it. I’ll look into your eyes and then when you look back at me, you will know that I know.

Because I want to think about something here, Laura: If I am willing to slag you, your legacy, and your family, just to get a rise out of you, what am I willing to do in order to beat you in the ring? That’s the truly scary part, isn’t it? You don’t know. And you’ll always fear what you don’t know. The unknown. And truthfully, I don’t even know. And that’s half the fun of this Laura. I just want you to know, I’m willing to stoop to depths that are pretty goddamn low. 

Because I have a job to do. A mission to accomplish. And it means beating you and beating Mikah. You two have to be the sacrifices, so that the goal can be reached. The only good part for you, is that once this is over, you don’t have to take part in what’s coming. You and Mikah can stay on the sidelines and watch. And breathe a sigh of relief that it’s where you are, and it’s where you’re going to stay.

The same cannot be said for your daughter, but that’s just how this has to work.

I know you may be worried or nervous about my takeover, but trust me, it’s for the best. I am remaking this company in my image and you, and Mikah are the last couple of pawns that need to be sacrificed. It’s just that simple. Had you not decided for one last run and really, not decided to try and call me “kid” and give me the verbal condescending pat on the back you did, this wouldn’t be happening to you.

You will just have to live with the fact that you helped cause all this.

But again, you could have been anybody. Had you not beaten Sam Marlowe, this would have been the same speech I gave here. Because you both are interchangeable. You and Mikah are just different sides of the same coin, the only difference really is the fact that she’s living in denial and you have accepted this as one last run.

But the run is over in Paris.

It all comes to crashing down and it ends in utter failure. But hey, you had fun right? You enjoyed that last look in the spotlight. I know, you’ll want to deny it, but that’s the first step, you know? You didn’t know what would happen. Now you’re feeling guilt, which you certainly should feel. And then we hit anger and bargaining. Depression and loneliness, so on and so forth.

I am going to cure your addiction to the spotlight and ensure that you do not want to come back. Then you can sit at home, and enjoy life. I will take good care of Bella, you don’t need to worry about that. Just understand that you could have prevented this, but you weren’t strong enough. Your time is over, and my time is now.

This is a revolution Laura, and when the old stand in the way of the future, they have to be removed from the picture. You standing across from me, is the worst place you can be, because as the leader of this revolution, I will have to personally see to it that you aren’t in the way anymore. I don’t want to hear the argument in Paris, Laura. It’s too late now. You had a chance to not be the example, but you chose to enter this tournament. You made a mistake, and for that, you have to be punished. I don’t make the rules.

I mean, I will eventually, but at this moment I do not. So I’m following the rules set forth. You have to be put down, and if necessary, I will make you stay down. It’s not that I want to do that to you, Laura, but you’re making me do this. You’re making this harder on me then it should be. All you have to do is stay down Laura, I’m giving you the option right here and now. It’s not hard, don’t make it hard.

But, then again, I know you will do the opposite. Older generations always go for the hardest path. “Builds character” they say. The reality is, it’s a losing battle and you’re not built for it. But yet, you will try. I know you will. You would rather die on your shield as they say, rather than do things the easiest and least painful way. Fine, I can’t stop you, but I want you to remember this whole thing when it’s over.

I want you to remember that I gave you the chance and opportunity to do the right thing. So, when it’s all said and done, and you lose, it will be all your fault. You will have no one to blame but yourself. Because by hook, or by crook, I’m going to win this tournament. I will do anything and everything to do so.

Just remember I gave you fair warning.

Revolution requires sacrifice.

Through your pain, will come what needs to happen.

It’s for the best.

Trust me.

14
Supercard Archives / Re: FRANKIE HOLLIDAY v MIKAH v LAURA PHOENIX - 2025 BFTP FINALS
« on: May 14, 2025, 10:31:45 AM »
Here we are.

Actually, here I am.

I will tell you, I don’t belong here. I’m not supposed to be here.

The blast from the past tournament was not meant for someone like me to win is it?

Think about it. I’m having my third match in my life in two weeks. In my first match, I had to win a triple threat match, the only one of this tournament. Then I had to beat a former world champion.

And I did both of those things. You may not like how I did it. You may think it was cheap and taking the shortcut. And you’d be correct. But there’s never been a person who didn’t take a shortcut or cut a corner or two. This is results based. It doesn’t matter “how” you get there, just that you do. And I have.

And now, the deck is now stacked against me like never before. Two “legends” seek to take what they believe is already theirs anyway. They both have done it all in wrestling multiple times over and I have… a couple of wins to my name. They are multi-time champions, hall of farmers. I’m just getting started. They are greats! I… am just… here.

No man, I don’t belong here at all.

But my goal is to shake things up. It’s too static around here. Too familiar. I have to change things.

Winning this when no one truly believes that I can? That’s a good spark. And it all takes one spark.

And then it all burns.

You will believe.

Trust me.





Middle school might just be the worst of all three phases.

Hormones take over and they mess with our brains. The standards of everything changes. All of a sudden you are tasked with being responsible, while also having to deal with your peers who now judge you even harsher than usual.

And let’s face it, pre-teens, and teens in general, are assholes. I was, you were, everyone is an asshole when they’re 12-14. We do things that are just out of nowhere random, and cruel. We fight over dumb shit. We decide that we need to pull the fire alarm for no good reason when it’s cold as fuck outside. Just because we can. We start judging the fuck out of others for what they wear, because if you don’t have the latest fashions, you’re obviously a poor. And man, the fashions of the 2010’s were weird as fuck.

Everyone had those stupid skinny jeans. Everyone was wearing button up shirts with suspenders and bowties? And the goddamn handlebar mustache came back for no discernible reason?

But, I digress.

And to top it all off, you then have to learn a bunch of boring, uninteresting shit, and then you can be scolded and told by your teachers that the shit is actually useful. Do you spend your days dealing with converting decimals into fractions or mixed numbers? No. No you don’t.  Unless you’re an engineer I suppose. But, if you’re an engineer and you’re watching this… well… right on. But I’m sure you don’t enjoy converting decimals into mixed numbers.

The point is, most of middle school is spent with the students being given an oddly large amount of responsibility. There is no more hand-holding for the most part. All the while, you’re experiencing the changes in your mind and body and you have to just deal with that shit. It’s a confusing time, and it causes people to lash out in anger because we’re all fucking lost.

And it doesn’t get any better from here.


1:36am

*Bangbangbangbangbangbang*

I could hear it, and it stirred me from sleep. What the hell is making that noise? I rubbed the sleep from my eyes as it came again.

*Bangbangbangbangbangbang*

I sat up. It was coming from downstairs. I looked over at the clock and I saw it’s 1:36am. I was now awake as I was unsure of what in the world was happening. Once again it happened.

*Bangbangbangbangbangbang*

I was now fully aware of what’s going on, and it was someone knocking on the door. Who the hell is knocking in the door at this hour? Why hadn’t my mom or Charlie answered it? What is going on?

I got up out of bed and staggered my way downstairs. Once again, before I get there.

*Bangbangbangbangbangbang*

“Who is it?” I call out. Obviously, you don’t open the door for strangers. But as I round the bend to see the door, through the curtains I can see a police officer. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere than here. Which wasn’t great. I cautiously opened the door.

“Hello sweetheart, my name is Officer Pappas. Is your dad home?” He said, his tone was polite but firm.

“Yeah.”  I answered.

“Could you get him for me?”

“What’s going on?” I asked, since it was odd that the cops would be at the door this early in the morning.

He sighed and pointed behind him, where there were more cops and they had my mother in handcuffs, sitting on the ground.”

“Is that your mom?” He asked.

“Yeah.” I answered.

“Your mom was driving under the influence.” He explained. “We need to talk to your dad.”

“Okay.” I said with a shrug and marched away. I went up the stairs to my parents bedroom where Charlie was still sound asleep. Another day where he drank himself to this point.

I walked into the room and tugged at his arm.

“Dad. The cops are here.”

No response. He was laying on his back, and after seeing his stomach go up and down, I knew he was alive. I tugged and pulled a little harder to try and stir him as gently as possible.

“Dad. Wake up.”

Still nothing.

Finally, I walked into the bathroom and got a small cup and filled it with water. It was my only recourse. I went back into their room and flung the light switch and lit up the room, before splashing the water on him. His eyes flung open and he groaned, taking a minute to collect himself and obviously he was pissed about being woken up.

“WHAT THE FUCK!”  He shouted.

“Dad. The cops are here.”

Charlie looked down for a moment, internalizing what I said to him.

“Why?” He finally asked. “Did you do something?”

“No. It’s mom.”

He sighed, leaning over and putting his feet on the floor, before rubbing his face and eyes.

“Fuck.” He mumbled to himself before getting up, and stomping down the stairs to the door. I followed him and kept a safe distance.

“This better be good, assholes.” He said, still very angry.

“Sir, my name is officer Pappas and I’m with the Milwaukee police department. Is that your wife?” The officer again pointed at my mom, handcuffed and sitting on the ground.

“Yes.” Charlie replied, now sobering up.

“We found her on route 18 a few blocks from here, she was driving and swerving all over the road. We pulled her over and she was slurring her words and passed out in the car before we finished questioning her. ”

“Shit.” was Charlie’s only response.

“Do you know if your wife drinks?”

“No. It must be the pills.” Charlie replied.

“Pills?”

“She took a pill for sleeping. It’s.. shit…"

“It’s Ambien, dad.” I helped answer.

“Yeah, that’s it. Ambien.”

“Okay, well, just so you know, she’s going to be placed under arrest for DUI and she’s gonna spend the night in jail. She’ll be at the district 2 station. We’ve gone ahead and called for a tow of the car, and it’s going to be impounded. Is it in your name, sir?”

“Yeah.. Fuck.”

“Okay, So, once we get all the particulars and everything, she’ll be free to go, and we’ll give you a call to come get her, and the car, and we’ll go from there.”

“Fine.”

Charlie and officer Pappas exchanged information, and just like that, my mother was taken to jail. Once they drove off, Charlie was more annoyed than anything. He didn’t say anything to my mom, he just sat at the dinner table, and began going through papers which had the car’s information. He laid it out, and then turned to me.

“You can go back to bed.” He just coldly stated without any hint of feeling. There was no comfort in his voice.

I went back to bed shortly thereafter.

Luckily this was the summertime, so I didn’t have school.

Following this, my mother’s license was suspended and she could no longer drive me to school. Charlie wasn’t happy about that at all. His resentment towards my mother only grew. I don’t know if he ever cared at all that she could have died that day. Or that she needed serious help.

My mom ended up filing the paperwork so that I could then catch the bus to school instead.

It was 6th grade. Sheila was gone, and Mark wasn’t really even talking to me anymore. My life was a mess.

I was alone. The only things I had were music and the internet.

I remember that first bus ride and seeing all the kids and feeling…dirty. There was something just less accommodating about riding the bus like this. This is middle school, but there’s still small children on the bus, since MAS is one big school. It’s just separated into different parts. But the bus was awful. I could smell the people going through puberty. I remember kids trying to mask their funk with anything. One kid I had to sit next to smelled like peppermint so much I wanted to gag. I didn’t want this. At all. This was just the beginning of my middle school journey too. Ugh.

I had a lot of advantages in school, and one was the fact that I was a year older than most in my grades, because the cutoff for registration is September 1st. So therefore, because I was born on the 11th, I had to wait a whole other year. So I had a year of extra preparation. That came in handy. I was already learning so much, so for me, most of school from a difficulty standpoint was non-existent.

The real problem for me was that everything was boring. Everything but science, that was at least somewhat interesting. I did everything else, but a great deal of the time I was off somewhere else. I’d daydream a lot. I was just so far ahead that I really just stopped caring. I didn’t really need to apply myself at this point. It took a minimal amount of effort for me to ace most tests, quizzes and exams. I just wasn’t interested in anything other than science. Because it was practical.

Sure, I could talk about plural pronouns or ancient civilizations like Mesopotamia, but it’s really not that serious.

My new classes were filled with the kids from the other classes I would see in the hallway from time to time, but I didn’t know any of them, nor did I care to. I was still pretty upset that Sheila was gone. I just tried to move through this section of school as quickly and painlessly as possible. Just get it over with.

But pain is inevitable in middle school.

I started to get stares as I walked through the hallway. Boys were checking me out. Girls would mutter under their breath. Because I didn’t feel the need to talk to anyone, nor did I have a boyfriend, or girlfriend… Again, at the age of 12, I was an outcast. I was weird. I was a loser. But, I just did my work. The one person I could stand being around, was gone. I didn’t want to deal with any of it. It was all pain.

The body grows and changes. I, like any other adolescent, experienced these changes. All of a sudden, I had to get bras and hair was growing in strange places. I had zits and sometimes they were massive and stuck out like a sore thumb. My voice would crack  I also developed this strange sensation. I don’t know why, but I began to just automatically dislike other girls. Like, seething, burning hatred for no reason. I have heard and read that this is something women do. And I know it’s true because I ended up really disliking this one girl.

Melissa Paur.

Even saying her name now makes me annoyed.

Melissa didn’t really ever do anything to me. She was just in my class for the four main subjects and gym. I got away from her in home economics, which was nice, and art. But for some reason, I didn’t like her. She rubbed me the wrong way. I wasn’t jealous or envious of her. I just… didn’t like her. She was normal looking I guess. But she was overly cheery, and she was popular.

And I hated her guts.

Every day I saw her, I hated her more. It drove me crazy. I was in this weird competition with her and she didn’t even know it. I wanted to beat her at everything. I was smarter than her, prettier than her, I was better than her. Melissa was always nice to me as well. Even though I was the “quiet girl” in the classes. She would see me getting my stuff and just say “Hi Franchesca” to me.

And I hated it.

“Shut up!”
“Don’t talk to me, you don’t know me!”
“Who the hell do you think you are!”
“You are not the future, I am! I will be the president! I will be an astronaut! Not you!”
“You’re not even smart! Or pretty!”


These were things I shouted to her in my head.

I needed to do something about her. And I didn’t even know why.

Yeah… middle school started just so terribly from a social standpoint.

My parents had their own issues, and I had no one to help me understand these changes, and curb the angst.

Until I did, oddly enough in 7th grade art class.

And then I messed that up too…


Let’s get started, shall we? Let’s spark a little fire.

Laura Phoenix.

What in the world is going on with these old folks trying to reclaim their old glory?

Laura, what are you doing?
Laura, it’s not worth it.
Laura, you had your time. It has passed.
Laura, stop trying to steal the spotlight from your own family.
Laura, your daughter is literally a champion in Sin City Wrestling. Why aren’t you supporting her?
Laura, why are you doing this to your daughter?

You do realize that even participating in this just overshadows your daughter, because she could never reach the heights you set? Why would you do that? You set this bar for your daughter, and now, you’re just trying to make it more and more difficult for her to clear it. Why hurt your daughter in such a way?

Look at the card for Into the Void, Laura, you, you are higher on the card than your own daughter. Why steal her shine like that?

Greed? Envy? Jealousy?

Or, maybe you just didn’t think about it. Maybe you’re just selfish. Or, perhaps you are an addict. Yes. that’s it. You have all the telltale signs.

You crave the spotlight, just like Mikah does. You want so bad to hear your name called just one more time. One more run. One last dance with the big time. And you let it get into your head. That’s why you entered, isn’t it? That’s why you did this to poor Bella. Because you lack the willpower and self-control to stop yourself. You’re probably not even aware you are doing it until now, huh? You are hurting your daughter and you don’t even realize it.

It’s how addicts work. They can’t see past the next fix.

You beat Sam Marlowe and the first thing you do is pat yourself on the back. You want it from everyone else don’t you? So, here, let me say, congratulations. Keep up the good work. Keep pushing your daughter’s career aside for your own moment. I for one, am all for it. I just wonder how she feels about it? I’m sure on the outside, she’s happy for you and wanting you to have one last day in the sun. But you?  You just made her an afterthought and you don’t even care.

“She’s doing her own thing” you’ll say in defense. But… she’s still always trying to live up to your standards, you are her mother, after all. And I think the best irony of the whole thing is, you won on Mother’s day. Just a little extra knife twist into her back there. I love it. That’s a really great touch I didn’t see coming, but hey, life is full of surprises isn’t it?

Bella can do her own thing, but it’s not the level you achieved, is it? You’re a multi-time champion, a hall of famer, and now, out to prove you still got it. The fact is, Bella will always be compared to you, and every time you step between the ropes, you do her more harm than good, and you magnify just how far behind you she is. I mean, that’s a cruel thing to do to somebody. Especially your own daughter.

But you know, I kind of dig it. I didn’t think you had that kind of thing in you, Laura!
You’ve got full “fuck them kids” with this and I’m here for it. 

But, again, you can’t help it. You need this. Retirement can and should be permanent. Just sit back, relax and enjoy life. Live vicariously through your daughter. But no, you selfishly parade yourself out here, yet again, when it is completely unnecessary. Because you need a fix, Laura. You’re a junkie, hooked on the rush of adrenaline. You need it hooked into your veins. You crave the spotlight, you would cast anyone and everyone aside to get it.

And the sad truth is, most addicts don’t know what they’re doing, because they are only focused on what they need. It isn’t until they are told, and given an intervention that they can finally come to terms with it. Consider this our intervention, Laura.

You are hurting your daughter, Laura.
She doesn’t need you doing this to her, Laura.
It is time to STOP, Laura.

I know you haven’t liked what you have heard. You’re insulted and offended that I said the things I’ve said. Good. That’s the point. Because deep down, as you think about it, you’ll realize I’m correct and you need to make a change.

Because as much as greedy junkie Laura works for me as an observer, it doesn’t work for anyone else. If it was up to me, I’d love for you to move on after I win this match, and you would actually face Bella for her title and then take it from her. I mean, that would just be the ultimate. Show that kid how it’s done! Show your daughter what a real champion looks like!

Oh, that would be a dream.

But, no. I have bigger ambitions other than helping you get some perspective. I have an entire company to change, and well… I don’t have the time to focus on you enough. You’re temporary. Part-time. I don’t need you around and you are not in the long-term plans I have.  So you, along with Mikah, will be brushed aside to make room for those that are required for this to work.

You cannot stand in the way of progress, Ms. Phoenix. The machine will roll on. But, I will in fact do you a huge favor and actually show Bella the respect she deserves and not rob her of her just due like you have done. I will put you on the other side of the barricade where you should have stayed. We all will be must better off when this is accomplished. Obviously, it will benefit Bella the most, since she won’t have to deal with her mother stealing the spotlight from her ever again.

Think of it in terms of quitting cold turkey. You’ll be in the ring one more time at Into the Void, and then… you just won’t be anymore. Just like that. Done. Finished. And you get back to exactly where you should be considering all you have waiting for you.

Of course, you could not heed my warning. You can, and you will, rush headlong, angry at me for days like today. And then, you will find out that it’s a fight you aren’t going to win. And then, when you return home, crushed and a failure, you can look at yourself in the mirror and realize just how right I was.

In the immortal words of Kevin O’Shea:

“You’ll thank me tomorrow.”

And you will.

Trust me.


Now let’s turn up the heat, and really light things up!

The great Mikah.

After all the time spent on this build up, I expected more, and I must say: I find myself unimpressed.

Yes, I don’t think you are that good. At all.

I know, what do I know, right? I’m just some child and you are the great Mikah and you’re all like “Look at me, I’m Mikah, I think everyone else should bend the knee and recognize my greatness…” and  oh my god I’m already bored of this. Yadda yadda yadda, you think you’re good. I nailed that impression by the way.

Again, what is it with “legends” of this company who refuse to get out of the way and let the future take hold like it’s supposed to? Why do people like you always feel the need to come back and try and take the spotlight in this desperate attempt to reclaim former glory? It is maddening to see this. And also very sad. You had your time and that time is now over. You’re not going to bring it back. And really, you shouldn’t want to.

Think about it for a second. When you, the great Mikah, when you were at the height of your abilities, your prime if you will, you still couldn’t and didn’t dominate like you think you did. You had a respectable run and now, it’s all been eclipsed. 3 time champion? Eclipsed. Longest reigning champion? Eclipsed. And let’s just be real, the people you beat for the title? Raynin? Mercedes Vargas? Crystal whatever-her-last-name-is-this-week? Bombshells of a bygone era. And the same Crystal beat you as well. I don’t know about anyone else here, but that doesn’t scream domination. The people you beat during that historic reign? Rayin again, Amanda Cortez? Mercedes and Crystal? Melanie Gabriele? The proverbial “‘member berries”

Come on now, Mikah, you can’t seriously think this is good. Like, you just can’t.

What I found interesting is that you hand-picked Samantha Marlowe and then she ended that historic reign. So, whoops that doesn’t scream domination either. It screams “I was very fortunate, and I’m parlaying that into a legacy of being great. You’re great by default from where I stand. You were a champion when the champions weren’t around.

Luckily for you, Sam didn’t make the finals. That certainly would have been embarrassing to lose to her again. No, it is truly a blessing from above for you that she didn’t make it. Falling on your face again? That would just be the worst, wouldn’t it?

No, wait, it would be the worst, if you lose to me.

I mean, come on, you’re Mikah, you’re not supposed to lose to somebody like me.
“I’m new, I’m beneath you.”
“I don’t belong in the same ring with you.”
“Other typical generic bitchy thing that you would say about anyone else.”

I know, I know, your whole thing is, you come in, you win some stuff, you get bored, and then you leave before you can really be exposed and then you sit on the top of the mountain and claim superiority. You’re the best, when the rest of the competition isn’t really good. When it is, you scurry away and retire. Literally the best you’ve faced for that title is Crystal, and she doesn’t even bother anymore.

This whole thing was a fucking decade ago by the way.  Like… why bother?

When we really look at it, you are less and less impressive. What this signals is that you are still trying to justify your legacy, when it is hollow. It crumbles under scrutiny. Perhaps this is the reason you want Amber to come back. So you have someone to prop you up and make you look better than you actually are. You won other titles in unification matches for fucks sakes. If anything screams stat-padding, it’s that. And now, you enter the Blast From the Past. Just to prove you’re as good as you think you are.

This just reeks of desperation and a lack of confidence in your own legacy.

But hey, you are in the finals. You did beat… hold on… Cassie Wolfe? Christ. Oh, no, wait, you did beat Alicia Lukas. Like I said, you win some stuff and then you get bored. So kudos to you are in order aren’t they? I’m sure that if you win this tournament, everyone will just look at the people in the tournament and think… “Yeah, that sounds about right.” Then you can crow about it all day. It still won’t change how you are viewed.

I will also opine that this is why you continue to want Mark Ward’s attention as his favorite and you just call yourself the best bombshell, when the reality is, nobody thinks of you when they think of all-time greats.

Misty? Set the bar.
Amy Marshall? Done it all.
Roxi Johnson? Ditto.
Amber Ryan: Completely overshadowed you.

Hell, even Alicia Lukas, Evie Jordan, Crystal Whotever and Sam Marlowe have carved their names in history here.

You’re the one everyone forgets about. You are a shooting star, Mikah. Here one moment, gone the next. And people move on. They forget. And I know you really can’t stand that, can you? You want so bad to be in that class, but you… you just aren’t, and you never, ever will be.

You said it yourself, you just want to remind people you are good. Ney, great! You don’t care about the championship, you just want to win a tournament that you, in all honesty probably should, and then… you’ll leave again and feel good about it. I love that for you, you have created the best win-win scenario.

You win, and then you’re like “I’m so good, I won this tournament!”
You lose, and it’s “Tee-hee this was all a gag, I really don’t care. Retired again!”
 
I know, I’ve seen this movie before.

But there is good news for you, Mikah! There is a silver lining in all this. You, Mikah, have been given a very important task. You have a chance to be the savior you always wanted to be. You have a chance to make the biggest impact in Sin City Wrestling, maybe of all time. Doesn’t that sound appealing? It should be to someone like you. It’s extremely important that you accomplish this task.

Do you know what it is?

You have to win this match. You have to stop me.

You are the last hope for this place to stop me from going straight to the top right away. The last “great” “legend” to stop me before I get truly started in changing this company. Now, mind you, I don’t really count you in this changing. I will put you in the “Retired” list and that will be less work for me.

Besides, why would I want to change you? You’re perfect just the way you are. Insecure and proud of it. I love that about you. I love it for you. You can’t really find too many desperate, insecure, attention-whores in this day and age.

Wait, nevermind, Twitter, Onlyfans and Tik-Tok exist.

Okay, so you’re not that special. Still, Sin City Wrestling only has… like three of those too.

Come to think of it, we have too many Mikah’s around here. Well shit. This… this won’t do at all.

Yeah, see, this is why I have to move you to the “retired” section. There’s just… no room for you here anymore. Your spot? Your position? It’s already been filled. We have no need for you. We have upgraded models of you. You’re just obsolete Mikah.

I have big plans for changing and re-shaping this company, and the sooner you are out of it, the better. Don’t worry, you won’t be the only one I have to remove. There’s plenty this company doesn’t need. You’ll get your own section, like I said, and then you can observe from afar and make pithy comments and stuff. That’s your thing. But moving forward, there’s just no need for you to be part of this.

As with any athlete or worker in any company whose work isn’t up to snuff, there just comes a point where we have to let them go. It will be my time at some point as well, hell, it probably should have been in some cases sooner, but that’s not the point. I’m going to send you where you can have a permanent vacation away from all this and you don’t have to worry your pretty little head about it anymore. Your time, Mikah is up, and this is where we have to part ways.

After Into the Void, your services will no longer be required.

And you can fuck right off back to Hawaii. Again.

And we’ll forget all about you. Again.

But don’t worry, everything will be much better off without you.

Trust me.

15
Climax Control Archives / Chapter 3: The Children Are Our Future (Part 2/6)
« on: May 02, 2025, 09:42:37 AM »
Well now, would you look at that. I’m a big winner in my debut match against not one, but two, opponents. The only opening round triple threat match and now, I am on to the semi-finals.

As I said, change takes a while. Fortunately for all of you, I have a LOT of time.

Now, I don’t have a plan at the moment. I’m still working on it. I find it best to just let whatever happens, happen. I know what I have to do, and that’s all I’m worried about. There’s all these things going on and people trying to get other people to come back and run divisions and people talking about the good old days and oh, there’s so many happy couples.

So there’s a lot to account for and an actual plan is really hard to formulate at this point. I didn’t know who I was even facing this week for a day or so. I couldn’t plan on it being Julianna, it could have been Samantha, or Laura Jackson, or Mikah, or Alicia Lukas. But… it’s Julianna, and I’ll get to her in due time.

But I haven’t even really started to tell my story, so we have another fun time recollecting about the past.

It’s funny, the past is a running theme around here. If you stop and think about it, I am pretty much the only new crop of talent that is in this tournament still. We have Alicia, Julianna, and Mikah, trying to reclaim recent past glories. And Samantha and Laura have even further past glories. It’s like the fresh, young talent has all but dried up.

And that just won’t do.

The past is supposed to help shape the future, not block it out. The future is inevitable.

I am it.

But I’ll tell you about my past, so that you understand what the future of Sin City Wrestling is going to look like.

Let's introduce a little chaos. It will make it all clear.

Join me. Believe me. Trust me.





The school year wore on and I felt more and more comfortable there and it led to research more things. I developed an interest in animals, but more importantly, anatomy. I was now curious how it all worked. For the first time in my short life, I was shown how open the world was and all the things in it. I was curious about everything. This continued for pretty much my whole life.

But more importantly, I found that Sheila was just as curious. We talked almost daily and shared food and toys at recess. We swung on the swings and did all the little kid stuff you probably remember. This is when kids still went outside, but I mean, this is 2006 we’re talking about, that time was coming to an end. But when I was smaller, I didn’t really have friends that were my age. Our neighbors didn’t have children. Charlie knew a bunch of people and they came to the house frequently, so most of the people I talked to were adults.

Sheila was the first who just talked to me, sounded like me, and had interests similar to mine. I found more things to look up and to talk with Sheila about, as I forged this relationship with her. We spent the first 3 years of school in the same class. Sheila and I were I guess… friends. We said “hi” and “bye” to each other everyday if that qualifies us as such.

Until there was this one time where we took a test in 2nd grade.

I believed that Sheila and I were the two smartest kids in our classes. We always got the highest grades, and it always got to the point that Mrs. Myers, Ms. Prescott, our 1st grade teacher, and Mr. Price, our 2nd grade teacher, would tell us we couldn’t answer questions to give the other children a chance.

This of course fed into my superiority complex. In addition, in my head, I believed I was smarter than Sheila. A little egotistical, I’ll grant that the notion is ridiculous to have in elementary school, but this is how children are wired sometimes. It was also my way of standing out in school because I still wanted to be seen as someone who was worth something. I wasn’t tall, or some beauty pageant material girl. I didn’t dress in expensive clothing, but it wasn’t like I was shopping at the thrift store for clothes.

Anyway, that whole feeling was shattered when we took that Social Studies test on U.S. States and their capitals. I was certain I had gotten them all, but my test came back with a 98% instead of 100%. And Sheila had gotten them all. This had to be a mistake. Could Sheila actually be smarter than me? I couldn’t rationalize this in my brain.

I missed Georgia. For some reason, I was so sure that Augusta was the capital, instead of Atlanta. Augusta is actually the capital of Maine. For some reason I marked Augusta twice.

I wouldn’t live this down in my own head for a long time. It’s preposterous when you think about it, but I held onto this. Sheila was able to match me in everything else, I wasn’t able to get a higher grade than her on anything. This… this would not do.

My mother didn’t set play dates or anything, so the only time Sheila and I ever got together was at school. And then, one day, Sheila came up to me with a big grin on her face.

“Hey, do you wanna come play at my house after school?” She asked, grinning and hoping I would say yes.

“I have to ask my mom.”

Once the day ended, my mother was there to pick me up and I approached her, with Sheila by my side.

“Mom, can I play at Sheila’s house after school?” I asked, not wanting to launch into the puppy dog eyes, just yet.

My mother seemed rather surprised and intrigued that this was happening. She looked around as Sheila’s mother wasn’t there just yet.

“Let’s see if her mom is okay with it.”

“She is.” Sheila replied with a big grin.

Finally, Sheila’s mom appeared and she and my mother had a small conversation and my mother nodded to me.

“Okay, you can go. Sheila’s mom is going to bring you back home at 7.”

“Thanks, mom.” I said, smiling and excited that this was happening.

We arrived at Sheila’s house and it was huge. I had never seen a house as big as hers. She even had a swing set in her backyard. I was so jealous of this. Her mom and dad talked and seemed to have a happy relationship, something else I didn’t have. Why couldn’t I be here? I wanted this for me, but I didn’t have it.

We played with dolls for a little while, then played some games on the internet before heading outside and swinging on her swing set.

“Take it easy, Sheila!” Her mom shouted from the window. I understood that Sheila didn’t have the lung capacity to exert a lot of energy.

Sheila and I played and laughed and giggled and then, out of nowhere, The same labored breathing began in Sheila. She was having an asthma attack. I knew exactly what to do and sat her upright. I reached and felt around her outfit and found her inhaler. I looked at it and then a sudden strange thought crossed my mind.

“What if I don’t give this to her?”

Depending on severity, asthma can be fatal. I don’t know why I thought this was a viable option, but I did. Perhaps this was a little bit of revenge for that test. It had to be. Even though she had nothing to do with it, and it was my mistake. I blamed her. I was still jealous, angry and bitter.

I looked at her face, desperate for the inhaler and I hesitated for a moment, only a brief one, but it felt like forever. There was this feeling of now having Sheila’s life in my hands, and I very much enjoyed it. I looked her dead in the eyes, holding the inhaler and that feeling finally shook from my head. I gave her the inhaler just as her mother rushed outside. I used the technique and her mother stopped, observing me doing this, before her maternal instincts came back and she rushed over. She continued what I started and soon enough, Sheila was her normal self again. Sheila’s mom turned to me, a sigh of relief escaping her as she rubbed my shoulder.

“Thank you, Franchesca.”

I shrugged. “You’re welcome.”

In my head, I had won some kind of battle. Sheila may or may not have been smarter than me, but I had full use of my lungs. And that made me superior.

We went inside, had dinner and we got to play a little longer, just talking about animals and things we found on the internet. I honestly don’t think that Sheila knew what went on in my head and why I hesitated at that moment. I believe that she thought that maybe I didn’t know what to do. Maybe. I’m not sure.

Sheila never really said anything other than “Thank you” to me after that and she and her mother dropped me off at my house. 7pm, right on time. I explained to my mother about all the things I saw at Sheila’s house and how it made me feel. I never told her about the asthma attack thing though.

Charlie had very little interest, he just was concerned that I didn’t get into trouble, because then he would have to come down to the school and have to deal with it. And for the most part, I didn’t get into trouble. I never did much of anything besides my work. I really only talked to Sheila, but occasionally I had to work with Mark on things, or we would be grouped together.

I didn’t really have much to talk about with Mark, but he made it a point to speak to me every day. Mark would talk to me, but it was mostly about stuff he liked, like cartoons or TV shows and stuff like that. He would occasionally be aware of what Sheila and I would talk about seeing on the internet.

And then, one day, out of the blue, he wrote me a love letter and hid it in my desk. I found it, but he hadn’t put his name on it. I knew it was his based on his handwriting, but he also was very curious from then on about how I was feeling and whether or not I liked anybody. Mark really liked me, and thought I was cool. He wanted to hang out with me. A schoolboy crush by the time we hit 2nd grade.

I was clearly too young for dating or even a remote interest in boys or girls, much less romantically. I was interested in Sheila because I spent the most time with her. Mark was… okay I guess?

In fact, Mark was the one gave me the name “Frankie”

Mark had an interdental lisp. So he could never say “Franchesca.” It always came out “FranchTHca” So, one day after many, many times of being unable to say it, he just asked.

“Can I call you Frankie?”

“Frankie is a boy’s name.”  I replied, correcting his despite the fact he probably knew this.

“I know, but it’s really hard for me to say FrancheTHca”

I cringed at hearing my name mispronounced. I hated it, and he was the only one who couldn’t. I know he couldn’t help it, but it just bugged me. But heaven forbid I let the kid struggle. Oh my god, let's make it easier for this kid. So…I just conceded this to make it easier for him.

“You can call me Frankie.” I answered.

Relief washed over Mark’s face as from then on, he called me Frankie whenever he needed to talk to me or ask me something. Soon Sheila started doing it too. It didn’t really bother me as much as I thought it would. It wasn’t any easier to hear Mark talk, but I dealt with it. I just went with it and at the end, almost every person I encountered during my formative years called me “Frankie” instead of “Franchesca”. 

Once we hit 4th grade, Mark just sort of dropped his schoolboy crush and I just became a girl he knew and talked to. I suppose it also was helped that once we hit 4th grade, Mark was no longer in my class.  He would see me in
the hall, smile, wave and occasionally talk to me.

And… for some reason, I felt almost offended. Like… am I not good enough now? Not that I was actually interested in him or even the concept of dating at the age of 10, but the idea that I could be dropped like that was kind of insulting.

Nonetheless, I let it go. I now had more important things to worry about.

Because this was around the time my mother started taking pills to help her get through the day.  So I had to grow and mature a lot faster than most 10 year olds. It felt like working two jobs and not getting paid for either of them, and basically getting no help. Charlie did the bare minimum, if that. Charlie worked at his job, came home and that was the end. So outside of occasionally buying dinner on his way home, or running to the store, he didn’t do much of anything. I was mowing the grass, the dishes, and the laundry as my mother would often forget in her stupor.

But I could take solace in the fact that at school, I had Sheila. I always hate Sheila.

Until I didn’t.

5th grade.

She wasn’t in my class.

My best friend was now not in the same class as me. I was devastated. How did this happen? We were inseparable for 5 years and now she wasn’t there. I was more upset about that than pretty much anything else. Sheila was my escape. My one true friend. Even though years earlier I irrationally hated her for a stupid test, but now, she was gone. In some other class.

I had to find her. Talk to her. Get to the bottom of this situation.

I eventually ran into Sheila in the hallway when I was coming back from lunch and Sheila was going to take hers.

“Hi Sheila!” I announced excitedly.

“Hi Frankie!” She said, with a smile on her face as well. At least she was happy to see me.

“What class are you in now?” I asked, eager to know what happened to my friend.

“I have Mr. Bates now. He’s really fun. What about you?" She replied.

“I have Mr. Rendell now.” I answered. “He’s okay.”

“That’s good. Do you want to talk after school?” She asked.

“Yeah, that’s fine. I have to go now.” I said, hurrying to catch up with my classmates.

“See you later!” She shouted as I was walking away.

Crisis. Averted.

It did feel strange to not have my friend around. She helped me feel normal. I missed my friend. But it did make me hands down the smartest person in my class. So that was a plus, and my sense of superiority returned yet again. I was a born leader and this was just more evidence I was the future.

I aced everything, but by this point, it wasn’t fun anymore. School was now just a thing that I did and I was good at. There was no competition for me. Without a real rival in Sheila, everything just felt half as important. I made the honor roll time and time again. I got awards and plaques and ribbons for 1st place all the time. They are probably in a box somewhere in my former home.

Yeah, life was looking pretty great the first 5 years.

But… as it has a habit of doing, life changes things.

The last conversation I had with Sheila, was over the summer. And that's when I found out she was moving away. Her dad was in the Marines as a reservist, but had gotten promoted and was actually in line to command his own unit in Washington state.

She was moving. And then... she was gone.

She never even said good-bye. She just left me.

Just when I needed her most.


I have to say I am intrigued.

I am never really faced off against a robot or android or whatever you are, Julianna DiMaria. But that’s how you sound. It’s just weird to me to hear someone so obsessed with facts and figures, to the point that that’s all they talk about. You sound like the human equivalent of Chat GPT when you speak. So much so that it’s hard to really know who you actually are. What do you actually stand for? What are your thoughts on the economy? Does pineapple belong on pizza? These are the burning questions that are being asked and yet, all you can say is a version of when you click the speaker button on google.

“Did you know that Bea Barnheart has lost 87% of her matches? That means she must suck! I have not lost as many, therefore I am superior to her in our upcoming wrestling bout!”

It’s just that. Boring stat after boring stat.

Pardon me for being rude here. I didn’t even introduce myself to you. I’m Frankie, I’m the future of Sin City Wrestling and I need to re-shape it in my image. We are facing each other on Sunday and I am going to kick your ass and then win. It’s nice to meet you.

So Julianna, what happens when the person you are facing has no such stats for you to spew? What happens when you face someone who has a clean record? Does the computer have any sort of answer to that? Because that time is now for you, Julianna.

Well, I will tell you a normal person would speak about themselves and their personality or motives or something along those lines. That’s how wrestling works. But I have seldom heard you speak about these things the entire time you’ve been in Sin City Wrestling. The best you can do is talk about facts and figures because you have no personality to speak of. It is your defining trait.

That and the whole “I don’t care what you think about me” thing that you cling to like a binky. But we both know you do care.

Seriously, until literally last week, the last time anyone saw you, you were streaming for fuck’s sake. And it wasn’t even a titty stream. It was you fighting with internet trolls. Do you know how silly that is? You must. If you are famous in any way, there’s just going to be a section of people who dislike and hate everything you do. And you, like a complete buffoon, chose to engage them. You, the same person who claims to not care what people think, went to your haters for an opinion. These two things seem diametrically opposed, but you do you. Now, hilariously, after you, as you are one to do, “laid out of the facts” because that’s… you know… that’s your thing. Facts and figures. Numbers. Men lie, women lie, but numbers don’t, right? So after you laid those out, those haters, those trolls, you convinced them that you were right. You shut them all down and laid down the law and all of a sudden everybody was on your side.

So, this begs the question: How much did you pay those people to make you look good?

It’s okay, you can tell the truth. Was it like 3 people at like 5-6 laptops all with usernames to make it look legit? Different browsers and everything, right? Wait, I bet it was family members. Brothers and sisters and whatnot? And no, I’m not going to bother fact-checking you having siblings, because it’s not really important enough to me. If it was, I would. But the fact that you just outsmarted, out-witted, and were just so right about things and every single one of those people turned in your favor? It’s highly suspect.

But, let’s roll with the whole idea that those were all very real people. All of them. And you brought them all on side. That is impressive!

So, one can help but wonder how they all felt after you did all that, you talked about all the facts, and then… then you lost anyway.

So is it safe for those people to now feel stupid for supporting you? Can they go and just piss off back to Bella Madison fandom? Do you care? I know, you don’t care about these things, which then begs the question why you bothered to do a stream in the first place? You clearly enjoyed making those people look dumb for supporting Bella, right? But… now you’re not going to give a shit about them still liking you, are you?

Or… was the whole thing a sham? 

I mean, we haven’t seen or heard another meet and greet from you. So, where did you run off too, Julianna?

Did you hit rock bottom? Again?

You’re the only one allowed to do it, right? No one else knows what rock bottom is, do they?

You keep telling people that they don’t know what it is, they have never had it as bad as you. You are aware that not everyone experiences the same rock bottom, correct? There is no standard “rock bottom” so to speak. Just because you’ve had it rough for a period, doesn’t mean other people can’t, you twat.

You really want to play the game of “who has had a shittier life?”  You have no idea what a shitty life is. You just present these things in a sad, pathetic attempt at gaining pity from people you allegedly don’t give two fucks about. “My life is so hard, nobody takes me seriously!” “Respect me because I rose above the self-imposed and self-created problems I have!”

I suppose everyone is the hero of their own story. And every good hero goes through the hero’s journey. Even if they have to invent obstacles.

You throw these things out there all the time like a shield. You just think you know what rock bottom is, because you want your problems to be pitied. This is why you spout the facts and figures, when in your favor. You don’t know what a person goes through to experience their own rock bottom. I’ve had it way worse than you ever could.

Have you been homeless, Julianna?
Have you ever been penniless, Julianna?
Have you had to use your body to survive the night, Julianna?

Fuck. No. You haven’t.

So does this make me the authority on rock bottom? No. Because that’s MY personal low point. You can have yours, but I’m going to mock the shit out of it until you stop using it to judge everyone else. And then, then you’ll actually be able to post about not running away from your problems and actually have it be something other than ironically hilarious.

So, I eagerly await when you have to talk about yourself, instead of me. I mean, you can call me a cheater, and say my win wasn’t impressive. You can, I don’t mind. I did cheat, and well, for the first match, beating two people? Maybe it was a fluke. But outside of that, you… what can you say? I’m forcing you to talk about yourself, the one thing you stink at. You have nothing.

Actually. Yes. Yes you do. You do have something to talk about. I’m telling a lie. I just thought of it.

I spent all this time talking about facts and figures being what you do, and I’ve overlooked the obvious. I’ve actually been talking about your personality. You do have a defining personality trait:

Victim.

Now, before you fly off the handle and curse my name and possibly subtweet me… this is the part where I empathize a small amount with you. As a person who loves science, one of the things I studied was people. How the brain works, how it functions. The brain has this bizarre mechanism where it will choose what is comfortable, over something that is objectively better. I understand that is the case with you, Julianna. Because you are in an abusive relationship.

You are in an abusive relationship with yourself.

It’s why you do what you do. It’s why you jump head-first into the lion’s den with steaks tied to your legs. Metaphorically of course. Because you have copy-pasted your father’s voice in your own head, in your own mind. Because you are subconsciously trying to show him all the good things you have done, all the things that give you pride, all the things that make you feel accomplished, hoping that it will change his opinion.

And in your own head, you can hear the “I don’t care” from your father.

This is also why you constantly spew facts, numbers, statistics. It's why you fight trolls, it’s why you attack and prey on their shortcomings. Because You want to be viewed as better. Because you want the evidence to prove your father’s voice in your head wrong.

“Look dad, there’s someone worse than me!”

I will tell you the same thing that his voice does.

“We don’t care.”

And do you know why we don’t care?

Because you insist on reminding us.

You won two championships in Sin City Wrestling. You have probably won championships elsewhere. Good for you. You should be happy. Celebrate those accomplishments. But reminding everyone every time you’re on our screens is just the most annoying shit ever. And guess what? Your father’s voice, the one in your head, will never care.

You may think I’m destroying you right now, which, yes… I am. But at the same time, I’m telling you what nobody else will.

And that’s about as far as I’m going to go with empathizing with you, it’s not really your fault.

Actually, yes it is.

 Because at this point in your life, if you haven’t dealt with this by therapy, then you never will. I am on the mission to change this entire company, but honestly, I believe you to be a lost cause. I don’t want to change you at all. Because you have accepted the abuse.

You love it. You need it. You crave it. You want to try and make the negativity in your life into positivity, but you fail.  No, I don’t want to change you. I want you just the way you are. In a constant battle you will always lose. Because subconsciously, you want to anyway.

Maybe this will change you anyway. Maybe it won’t. At this point, I don’t really care that much. It was cathartic for me to tell you, more than anything.

The only reason I care this week is because you are my opponent, and beating you ups my stock in Sin City Wrestling. Beating a former Roulette and Internet champion week one, and then beating a former Internet and world champion week 2? That is perfect. That would be perhaps the most impressive start for any wrestler in Sin City Wrestling history.

Which includes you.

I just thought I’d point that out.

Anyway, I hope that you have enjoyed our little chat today. Perhaps you will remember it, you will think long and hard about it and it really opens your eyes. And then you can thank me, after the match is over and I make it to the finals.

Or don’t. I don’t care.

Either way, I’m going to beat you and go to the finals.

See you real, real soon, Julianna. Sweet dreams!

16
Character Building Roleplays / Chapter 3: The Children Are Our Future (Part 1/6)
« on: May 02, 2025, 02:00:42 AM »
Greetings and Salutations, Sin City Wrestling.

I believe a proper introduction is owed to you. My name is Franchesca Holliday. Most people call me Frankie. It’s a lot easier to say for most people. Just rolls right off the tongue, I think. You know, I never liked it, but it eventually grew on me. Oh, I’m sorry, where are my manners? This is an introduction.

I have signed with Sin City Wrestling in an effort to compete at something I find very enjoyable. And I feel that this is an excellent release for some pent up emotions. If you have been following my journey, I’m simply telling you my story and how I came to be the person I am today. Today, we continue that journey, but there is an added bonus.

You see, I have followed Sin City Wrestling for some time. And like many companies, businesses or enterprises, there are ebbs and flows. Ups and downs if you will. And SCW has certainly hit the down part. And I don’t want the company I grew up enjoying to have this kind of problem when I am in a position to fix things. So that’s what I’m going to do.

Wait… no. No no no. “Fix” isn’t the right word. That implies that it’s simple and won’t take me time. I am allotting for quite a long amount of time, because there is much work to do. You know what the word is?

Change.

I’m going to change you, Sin City Wrestling.

I have been tasked with my first match, since I have signed up to compete in the Blast From the Past tournament. And I find it very fitting that my first match in a tournament, stands out as the only triple threat match of the whole deal, on either side. I will say I did miss the random mixed tag team format, but I find this to also be a much simpler design. And there is such beauty in simplicity.

I find myself traveling to Sweden of all places to make my debut. And this being a triple threat match, means chaos. It means the unknown, it means the unpredictable. And I like it. I like it a lot. Fitting for the new girl to have to prove herself by beating not one, but two opponents.

Very well.

As I said, I am here to change SCW, and remake it in my image. And that begins by taking on Lilith Locke, and Melissa. This will take time. But, as I also said, I have allotted a lot of time to this process. When I am done, this will be an extremely different place. I will lead you to the future, Sin City Wrestling.

Take my hand, won’t you? You can trust me.

Can’t you?

Let us begin.




School is strange.

What you do in school is supposed to have some kind of impact on your life. It’s supposed to help shape you. To help you make career choices and find what you are good at, what you like and dislike. And a tiny portion of that is true. It’s miniscule, really.

The reality is that school is a glorified popularity contest that parents send their children through with the most unpopular people on the planet. And then it gets awkward and a group of basically strangers get to see how uncool you are while they are also uncool. It’s the world’s lamest fashion show, and then we learn how to properly use skills and emotions. Mostly pettiness, bitterness, jealousy and envy.

It’s a lot to manage but we all just do it.

You may think I’m just taking this wildly contrarian opinion or just being an edgelord or something, but it’s the truth. Nobody at any level of school is “cool”

Go ahead, think back on what you did in school. You wore ugly, uncomfortable clothing to impress people you don’t give two shits about. You said and did stupid shit. You tried your best to “fit in” with people that today, you probably don’t care to remember or have long since forgotten. You listened to teachers and educators that taught you to a standard of a test and really didn’t care otherwise. You made judgments. You bullied or you were bullied. You were judged. You were an asshole to somebody. You were a bitch to somebody you didn’t like. Or you received that abuse. Children don’t allow other children to walk away unscathed.

 And then you have regurgitate a fuck ton of useless and impractical information, all so you can receive a piece of paper which basically states “I’m not the village idiot.”

School is strange.

Elementary school is probably the most civil of all, because we’re all just learning how to be students. Because for the most part, it is an enormous skill in everything we do. Still, we judged others on their appearance, what kind of clothes they wore, what they were into, and we decided whether or not we liked them like that really fucking matters at the end of the day.

But we were and are the future. We are part of one generation or the next.

But it is a complete shitshow getting there isn’t it?


I can remember my first day of school.

The Milwaukee Academy of Science. A pretty nice charter school that doesn’t have a history of crime or embezzlement that a lot of charter schools do. I was chosen by lottery, so I guess I can thank my mother for at least investing in my education. She told me I was a naturally inquisitive child so she wanted me to have a good education.

MAS treats PK-12 so I wouldn’t ever have to go anywhere else. And I would be with the same people for the entire school life. Which sounds great at first, but it really isn’t. But specializing in science made it appealing to me and I took to it with great excitement.

My mother did the job of teaching me to read, write, count, and spell before I ever entered MAS. I could have, if given the option, skipped Kindergarten altogether. Some of these kids were not as advanced as I was and I could tell. I was already forming opinions and the ability to just bluntly blurt out all the things kid say because kids are fucking subtle.

Anyway, my mother brought me to the door to meet the teacher, Mrs. Myers. I had previously met Mrs. Myers at orientation the week prior. She smiled brightly as she waved at me.

“Hello Franchesca!” Her voice was really cheery.

I smiled and waved back. “Are you ready for class today?”

I nodded and Mrs. Myers smiled again and nodded as she looked up at the clock before beginning to greet other students.

 Some children were already crying about the fact that their parents were leaving them with pretty much a complete stranger. We are taught at an early age we should have a healthy fear of strangers, but this one was okay, I suppose. But this just goes against everything we learn before this moment, so some were apprehensive and nervous, and some downright scared.

My mother looked at me, kneeling down and clutching my shoulders and that same pained smile she wore like a glove.

“Are you going to cry when I leave?” She asked.

“No.” I replied with a shake of my head for emphasis. “You’re coming back to get me, right Mommy?” I asked.

“Of course. I’ll be right here when school is out.”  Was her reply.

“Okay.” I responded.

That’s all I needed to hear. I found my name on the desk taped with some fancy and colorful label and sat down. Behind me was a little girl named Sheila Kopecky. In front of me, a boy named Mark Grey. We were listed alphabetically by last name, so they were the closest to me.

I looked back over where my mother was standing when I sat down and she smiled with that empty grin once more, blew me a kiss and I could see the tears welling up in her eyes. I got up and walked over to her. She knelt down and hugged me tightly.

“I love you.” She whispered in my ear, as I felt my shirt becoming wet from her tears. I smiled as I looked her in the face.

“I love you too.”

My mother was taking pride in me. I walked back over and sat down, turning to look again, and she was gone. I looked ahead and Mark was still clinging to his mother and hoping she wasn’t going to leave. But she had to, and Mark sniffled his way to accepting this. I looked back at Shiela,and her parents or whoever had long since left, and Sheila was laying out pencils and a notebook. She also had a weird white thing on her desk I had never seen before. I turned completely around to see her.

“What’s that thing?” I asked, pointing at it.

Sheila looked up at me and picked up the small white object.

“My inhaler.”

“What’s it for?”

“I have asthma.”

I was confused. I had heard the word before but only because my doctor checked me for it when I was a bit younger than I was. All I knew was that I didn’t have asthma, whatever it was. Sheila could see I was lost.

“It helps me breathe when I don’t feel good.” She finally brought me up to speed.

“Oh. Okay.” Was my only response. I didn’t really know what else to say. I wanted to question her further, but even then it felt weird. Like, why am I interrogating this girl? I don’t even know her. I hadn’t even introduced myself.

I turned back around and got my own pencil and notebook prepared. All the parents had finally gone and it was time to learn. But very quickly I learned that I was already ahead. Some of those kids couldn’t read or write.

And thus began my superiority complex. I was better than these other children.

I was superior, I could do these things with ease and they were struggling. Part of me wondered why this was happening. We learned to count and spell and all that fun stuff. It was odd to be away from my family, but it felt more positive than anything. My mother could do things she wanted and well.. Charlie was going to do whatever he wanted anyway.

Once the first day ended, I was even curious about asthma and what it was about. I did a bunch of research, even at 5 years old, I knew what I was looking for. I learned about the 4x4x4 rule and how to care for someone with it. I got as much information as my tiny brain could remember and was eager to share my findings with Sheila, but obviously, she would have already known.

Sheila was pretty much the only person that I talked to consistently. I would occasionally talk with other children in my class, but I don’t remember the vast majority of them with any sort of specific memory, with the exception of Andy Beltrami. Andy was a bigger child, and thus, a bully. He was pretty aggressive when it came to toys and acted out quite a bit.

It was fascinating to see him just be perfectly normal at one moment, and then when something didn’t go his way or, even if nothing actually happened, he just had an impulse to abuse and torment everyone in class. Why are some little kids such assholes to everybody for no reason? You wouldn’t think that a charter school would tolerate this, but it was excused by Andy just being a child. Andy’s mom was called a few times, but this behavior continued.

Until Andy threw a football at my head. It dinged me slightly, but still hurt. I told my mother about it through tears.

“Don’t worry about it sweetie. You have to ignore bullies. Once they see they can’t hurt you, they will leave you alone.”

This seemed like the correct answer so, at first, I chose to heed my mother’s advice and ignore Andy. But the rude behavior continued. So, after the second football was thrown at my head, I decided that this wasn’t going to stand anymore. I searched on how to best get revenge on a bully. And most agreed with my mother that ignoring the bullying makes the bully lose interest. This, as it turns out, is a load of horseshit. Bullies will try even harder to get a rise out of you and Andy made sure I was annoyed. He never really demanded money or anything. He just… acted like a little asshole the majority of the time. So, actions needed to be taken. 

I noticed Andy loved action figures. He brought them for show and tell, he played with them at recess and wouldn’t let anyone touch them. I now knew what I needed to do.

So, one day after show and tell, and while we were having some quiet time, I made my move.

“Mrs. Myers, Can I get paper from my backpack?”

“Go ahead, Franchesca.”

You see, our backpacks and coats were in a separate room. I went out, and found Andy’s backpack and grabbed his Spider-man action figure. I put it in my bag, and returned in no time with paper. At the end of the day, Andy was none the wiser. I took it home, and  Spider-Man became a patient on my make-shift operating table.

Yes, stealing things is wrong, but… meh.

Andy spent the next few days angrily searching for his action figure and swearing up and down it was in his bag. Mrs. Myers helpfully suggested that perhaps they fell out of his backpack. Andy stopped bullying for a while, but it all came to a head when he pushed me off a swing at recess. I finally got my chance.

“Don’t ever touch me ever again!” I shouted in the most shrill voice I could.

Andy just laughed.

“You can’t do anything to me, you ugly toad!”

I don’t know why he went with “toad” but he did. I opened my coat and pulled out the torso of his Spider-Man action figure. It still had the “AB” initials that Andy’s mom most likely put on it to signify it belonged to him. I held it in my hand and showed it to Andy, who got very upset upon seeing it.

“If you ever bully me again, you won’t get ANY of this back.”

Andy became enraged and demanded I give him the torso. He came forward, and one of the very few pieces of advice Charlie ever gave me, came to me.

“If boys try to grab you, you kick ‘em in the nuts.”

So, I did.

Andy went down like a sack of potatoes and screamed in pain. He told Mrs. Myers shortly thereafter, but due to his bullying and nasty behavior, Mrs. Myers took my side. Andy of course then told them I stole his action figure, which I denied. I know lying is wrong, but in this case… meh. My bag and pockets were searched, but while Andy was crying his eyes out, I hid the torso in the sandbox on the playground, so they never found anything.

And after that, Andy hated my guts, but he never bullied me ever again. And I never gave him that action figure back, just in case. I figure his mom bought him a new one or something. My mission was accomplished either way.

Andy did continue to act out and bully other children the rest of kindergarten, but… I’m no hero.

They can figure it out.

I have the weight of the world on my shoulders. I am the future after all.


Wasn't that fun?

Anyway, I suppose I shall speak to both Melissa and Lilith. First, Melissa.

It is an honor and a privilege to be able to welcome you back Melissa.

I have followed your career here in Sin City Wrestling and I have to say I am… I am underwhelmed to be honest with you. I think everyone really is. I expected more, and so did everyone else. You have been wildly inconsistent, coming and going and disappearing for months to years at a time. You said you were looking to make your mark on the company, and yet, you make a small indent and just as soon, it’s fixed and your mark is gone.

Yes, you won some championships and that’s nothing to scoff at. But at this point, it feels more like this is a desperate attempt to remain relevant. You know good and well you’re not cut out for this anymore. You know it’s been far too long and you should just stay away. You know deep down in your soul that this isn’t worth it anymore. The game has passed you by, as it has pretty much everyone that you competed against. Surely you must be aware of this. Mercedes Vargas and Kat Jones? Has-beens and Ariana Angelos is about the closest thing to a never-was as can be and she has as many title victories as you do.

So, it makes me believe that you have tried to make a mark, and got a little bit of success, but it was fleeting. So the odds really don’t favor you right now Melissa. You’re going to come back and fail again. That’s where we stand. If we’re being honest with each other right now, and hey, I know, you don’t know me, I’m the new girl here but I’m still going to give you the helpful advice you need. So let’s be honest with each other right away. I was always taught that it is the best building block to a healthy relationship. The honest truth is, I’m torn.

On one hand, I need to beat someone like you. Even with the miniscule amount of credibility you have, you still have more than I do. So, I need you to show up and do your thing and dance around and feel that middling reception you’re going to get, come to the ring and wrestle me, and then I need to beat you. It’s really a simple thing.

But on the other hand, you know good and well you showing up is only going to lead to that outcome. Deep down in your heart, you are aware that this isn’t your time anymore. It’s my time. I am the future, or as it was, the present. This whole thing is about me. I am the person whom Sin City Wrestling has tasked with changing the whole game, not you. You are irrelevant at this point and really there is no need for you to show up and suffer the embarrassment of losing to me and then going back into hiatus for the foreseeable future. Because if you are sticking around, it means I have to change you too.

And honestly, again, I don’t have the time or patience to really change you when you don’t matter.

I have a grand plan and you are just the stepping stone that I step on and then I don’t think about afterwards. It’s really that simple. The plan doesn’t require you to try and reclaim lost momentum or the tiny amount of faded glory you once had. I want you out of the way. I need you out of the way.

But you can clearly see my dilemma here, correct? It’s not lost on you? I need you to just do me a solid here and just accept what this is and let me get on with my work. Because my work going to be a long, arduous process and you gunking it up would be really fucking rude and I haven’t said anything rude to you, have I? I’ve been nothing but cordial. I have not raised my voice, I haven’t lied about you. I was very polite if I do say so myself. I started this whole thing by telling you what an honor it is to face you.

And yet, I can sense this growing hostility. And I don’t like it, Melissa.

I might have said some things about you that you perhaps find offensive or rude, but they were not intended that way. If you took them that way, then that really says more about you than it does about me. I am merely stating the truth and the shared consensus of your contemporaries. You haven’t lived up to expectations, I think we can both agree on this topic. You haven’t competed, nor won a championship in Sin City Wrestling in over 2 years. You have been absent, and long since forgotten. I have been trying this entire time to give you the respect you deserve and I just keep getting the sense that you are going to be very ungrateful about this and treat me as if I know nothing and I’m just some little girl who knows nothing.

I know more than you think Melissa. I believe I have shown this with this little chat we are having. I could lie about you, but what’s the point? I’ve demonstrated all there is to care about with you, and I’m trying to make that count for something, and I’m doing it for you. But if you insist on all of the hostility and being ungrateful, I will oblige you. I will put you right back into obscurity on Sunday. I will take you out and if you persist I will ensure that you do not return to the ring for a very long time, if ever again.

That’s the game we’re playing Melissa. It can be very easy, and I can beat you and then, hey… you can say you played a part in the biggest game-changing event in Sin City Wrestling history.

Or you can be wiped out.

You can be a good soldier and play the part I need you to play, or I can break you like a toy and put you in the scrap pile.

The choice is really yours Melissa.

Do yourself and your peers a huge favor and make way for the future. Please?


Moving on, it is always fascinating to me to try and figure out what makes a person tick. I believed once this match was announced that I was being given a very tough nut to crack as it were, when it came to Lilith Locke. I took a look, I stared into that abyss and I saw what was ahead of me.

I am scared, Lilith. Terrified, even. Quaking in my boots, as it were.

Okay, no. I don’t want to disrespect you like that. It’s an insult to both mine and your intelligence. On with this.

Does this whole scary-girl spooky bitch thing like… supposed to be that way? Are you really going with that? Do you think that sounds scary or intimidating? 

I hate… Well, no, this has to be said: You really don’t have the first clue about what evil actually is. You just think you do. You put on a mask, you use voice distortion and that is what you think evil or something crazy is. It’s just showing a lack of imagination and creativity to me.

Come on, show me something Lilith. Show me how evil you are. Show me how crazy you are. Because all I’m getting now is the same type of jump scares that people think passes for horror today. Let me explain this to you: I can jump out of the bushes and startle you. Will you be scared of me? No. Of course not. You’ll jump and recoil, but you don’t really have a fear of me. That’s what you’re doing. You jumped out of the bushes and yelled “boo” and I’m more annoyed than anything else. Because it’s cheap. You’re like… 2000’s CGI monster effects. It looks bad, it sounds bad, it’s just bad.

Your words are just hollow, you understand this, right? You don’t scare anybody with them. “I’m going to crush your windpipe oooh boogie boogie boogie.” That’s you. Have you crushed a windpipe yet, Lilith? Have you felt the last bit of air escape a person’s lungs? Because if you have… first of all, that’s awesome, but if you truly had, you really wouldn’t be bragging about it, or threatening people with it. Tell me Lilith, are you really going to do all those horrible things you say to me too? I have yet to see you gouge an eye out or anything like it. I don’t want you to threaten me with that if you’re not going to do it. If you’re going to actually choke me, I need your tiny hands flexing for all their worth. Tense, white-fucking-knuckled. I don’t want you to say it unless you mean it!

No Lilith, I want to FEEL that shit. You will have to try much, much harder than that to really make me feel the fear you want me to feel. Because I’ve felt true fear and you, you are not giving it to me. The psycho babble doesn’t make me feel intimidated. It just feels rehearsed. You can tilt your head to the side like a dog, because you think it makes you look strange. You can ramble on and on about crushing things and digging your fingers into eye sockets and whatever you think makes you sound threatening, but it’s just not gonna work for me.

You see, as I said, I need to feel it. That’s the key to a good sense of horror and dread. Horror isn’t a look, it isn’t a word, it isn’t a voice. Horror is an atmosphere. It is the unknown. It’s what I don’t see, that makes me afraid. It’s not knowing what’s actually there. You’re giving away all your secrets without even trying, Lilith. You’re not going to make me squirm or have that sense of apprehension if you just give me all the blood, guts and gore right away.

Besides, even if you did it the right way, it’s still not going to really bother me.

I used to fucking cut people open for a living, Lilith.

Well, I guess in the proper sense they weren’t people. They were cadavers. I don’t know, do we class cadavers as people? They’re just a corpse, right? Anyway, I had them laying on the slab. I cut them open with a scalpel, and then had to use bolt cutters to break their ribs. I’ve had all kinds of human pus, blood and all kinds of others fluids explode in a big juicy fucking fountain on my table. So no, Lilith, I am not going to be worried about anything you have to say.

No Lilith, I will take you and Melissa and I will beat you both and then, I will move on. I will force you to be who you really are at the end of the day. You will have to look at the woman in the glass and know that you’re cheating her. The role you’re playing isn’t working anymore. Some people may be afraid of you, but I can assure you, I am not. I have dealt with the horrors of the world and I can come out the other side with the knowledge of what’s real. You, Lilith, clearly haven’t.

You just need some therapy. Or to grow up and stop pretending that you are as dangerous as others make you out to be. They may build you up, but I will break you down. In fact, I already have. Just like that.

You call yourself chaos, you call yourself twisted, but right now, your blood boils with rage as I didn’t even need to try that hard. I have turned the chaos on you. Because you just think you understand chaos, you haven’t lived it. You’re angry right now, partly because of what I said, but more so because what I’ve said is the truth. It’s your dirty little secret. And with these words, I will change you.

Can you fathom the depths I will go to change everyone? Especially when I start with you?

Just something for you to consider, Lilith. Think about it for the next few days. And while you do that, just remember to look at that woman in the glass. Because she is clearly very disappointed in you. I will change you Lilith. I’m going to make it a goal of mine. Or maybe not. Maybe I’ll just get bored after I beat you and move on to another toy to play with.

Maybe. Maybe not.

But you won’t know until after Sunday.

See? That’s the atmosphere I love. Uncertainty.

Enjoy it, Lilith.



Ladies, I will see you soon. I just know we're going to be good friends.


17
Character Building Roleplays / Chapter 2: Sarah's Folly
« on: May 02, 2025, 01:59:01 AM »

I have told you about my mom, and while I should, and in some ways do feel bad for her, she was complicit in everything that happened to me, even if she didn’t really have much to do with it.

Sarah was born in 1982. She met an awful man in 1999, married him in 2000 and had me in 2001.

From there, despite being the ripe old age of 20, Sarah was a mom. She did the best she could, but she really had no frame of reference and no one to lean on. And it took its toll obviously. When someone just essentially legally kidnaps you, it’s kind of hard. And I would suggest that it just became too much for her.

My mother was there for the majority of my childhood. She tried to teach me things, but when you barely know how the world even works, it becomes rather difficult. She gave me a tablet and let me just learn on my own. My teacher was the internet itself. And not even the awful cesspool the internet is now. Like the infantile days of youtube. Nothing but 10 minute videos of people posting random nonsense. Before anyone really wanted to be youtube famous.

My mother did, when I was young, care for me. She tried her best, I suppose, to raise me. I learned how to read, write, speak and spell without issue. Charlie? I know once I was able to walk, left me to my own devices, but did, a time or two, actually reach out, hold me and comfort me when something was wrong. But most of that was my mother.

Again, it’s not like my mother has some elaborate backstory to really talk about. She was 17 years into her young life, and then boom, you get fucking uprooted, and given a false promise of an easy life. And she lamented it the day she found out she was pregnant. Again, you have to grow up almost instantly when this happens. You just are a parent. I don’t know if my mother ever thought about other options, but then again, I never asked. All I know is that I’m here, and it seemed to suck the soul out of my mother.

I know all too well, just how much having no time to grow up and mature can strain a person. Imagine just being removed from everything you know and you love and being put in a different place, and having to essentially start your life all over again. And with a person who doesn’t really even love or care about you. I don’t think Charlie really cared about anything but himself. He gave my mother money, and just stepped aside after that. He trapped her in a way that I wouldn’t wish on anybody. She was utterly dependent on him, and he essentially used my infancy and early childhood to help handcuff my mother to him.

I don’t believe that Charlie ever really loved my mother. He loved things about her, sure. But truly loved and cared for? No. And what lesson does that teach a woman? To Charlie my mother’s only value was what she could give him when he needed or wanted it. Getting pregnant with me obviously wasn’t what he wanted and only briefly made him act at least… decently, I guess towards my mother. She was a piece of meat, with no real way out of the situation.

Until she found it. Or rather… it was given to her.

I will say that my mother did everything she could have done, all things considered, to raise me. I was fed, clothed, and had a roof over my head. I was taught how to function properly. I had a small sense of right and wrong, good and evil, as it were. My formative years were spent as most any other child’s were. Essentially, it was a 9-5 for my mother. Because after 5, usually dinner time, I was pretty much left to my own devices.

But it became too much for my mother.

Again, you are a straight A student, you have your whole life ahead of you, and then boom, it’s all gone. Like, fucking GONE. You have this new life, and you have to raise a child and you are getting nothing from your partner. It’s a parasitic relationship and eventually, you run out of energy to give. No matter who you are, or how strong you think you are. We all have our breaking points. I often saw my mother crying, no doubt wondering how she fucked up this badly. When I was 8, she suffered a mental breakdown and spent several weeks in the hospital. She came home after that and it did not get any better.

 When I was 9, my mother finally succumbed to medication to help her get through the day. Something to take the pain away. The stress of life is crazy. And sometimes, you need a little help to get you through the day. And she got it.

Alprazolam.

Or, as you probably know it, Xanax.

I don’t know if normal antidepressants would have done any better or worse. Actually, yes I do.

You see, Xanax is usually prescribed for stress, and it relaxes people. But, oddly, or perhaps, not so oddly, one of the side effects of Xanax is actually difficulty sleeping. So, the mood was helped for a little bit, but then it wasn’t enough. This went on for a couple of years. Finally, my mother had to have something to help her sleep. And she got it.

Zolpidem.

Or, as you may know it, Ambien.

Combining Ambien and Xanax together isn’t recommended. They are both antidepressants. They both cause fatigue, drowsiness, and more importantly, slow down breathing. Once the doctor found out about this possible combination, he no longer gave her Xanax and instead, prescribed Sertraline. Which is Zoloft.
Zoloft in the morning enabled my mother to power through and mask the horrible feelings she had. Perhaps I was able to give her some joy early on, but everyone has their limits.

The Ambien was a different story. 

I watched many times as a child as she took those pills and would literally be comatose about 30 minutes later. Completely unresponsive and unable to do anything even if she wanted to. But, she did have a sleepwalking issue which then resulted in multiple times her sleepwalking to the kitchen, opening bottles and retrieving food from the refrigerator, and walking away, back to the couch or even her bedroom and laying down again. I had to ensure a lot of the time that my mother actually slept on her side or stomach, because she would vomit and it would get stuck in her mouth. I distinctly remember fishing chunks of food from her mouth with my finger, and Charlie doing the same once I told him about it. I suppose at least, he cared for her in that he didn’t want her to die.

Perhaps more so that he would be the prime suspect in her death investigation than anything else.

There was even a time when my mother took Ambien, and then went to sleep, only to get up, grab her keys, get in the car and drive down the highway.This is rare, but it did happen. She was pulled over and arrested and Charlie had to bail her out. Perhaps she was mentally trying to escape without even realizing it. But she was trapped.

This incident caused my mother to lose her license and so she couldn’t really go anywhere, further trapping her. Surrounded by the same walls, the same floors, the same things, all day, everyday. I know why my mother took pills. To escape this existence. Perhaps it was just my presence that prevented her from ultimately taking all of them.

It forced me to grow up and mature faster than normal. I basically ran the house when I was 10. I learned through osmosis for some things, but a lot of things I had to look up on the internet. I suppose I should be thankful that it was there. If there was one thing my parents did give me, it was exceptional intelligence. I probably wasted it on dumb shit if I’m being honest, but I was able to essentially cook and clean, and do many household related activities very early in life. My mother had a hand in it, as did Charlie. But when your father has no interest in you and your mother can’t take care of herself much less a child, what more can you really do?

I honestly don’t know if my mother is even aware I left the house. I won’t say that our relationship is broken, or even strained. She raised me, sure. But that only lasted for the first 10-11 years of my life. Once my mother was caught up in pills, once she was finally broken, there wasn’t anything there. She became more or less a zombie who barely spoke, just went through her routine like a robot. She was a husk of a person. She had been on autopilot for basically my entire middle to high school life. It is why she didn’t object to Charlie finding a renewed interest in me.

My mother never reached out to me, she never attempted to contact me in any way once I was gone. She sat there, when Charlie told me to leave. She sat there, on the couch blissfully unaware. Part of me in that moment hoped that it was a permanent one for her. I hoped it was the end for her. More of a mercy killing than anything.

So I can’t really be mad at her, other than putting an incredible strain on me, through no fault of her own.

The end result is that Charlie ruined my mother, which caused my mother to be unable to properly raise me.

I’m not from a broken home, my home was DESTROYED.

And it has made me who I am.

18
Character Building Roleplays / Chapter 1: The Ballad Of Charlie Holliday
« on: May 02, 2025, 01:58:19 AM »

My father is a predator and a deviant.

But I cannot tell my story, without telling his story first. Because we’re a lot alike.

No, I’m not a predator. Well, I am. But at least not in that same sense. And I’m not nearly on his level of being a deviant, but we are both products of the home and time we grew up in.

But this is the prequel, if you will, as to how I became the agent of chaos.

Charlie was born in 1960 in Ann Arbor, Michigan. Charlie was a product of the late ‘60’s and into the ‘70’s and like all teens do I guess, he rebelled against his parents, who were products of the 1940’s. Shit was crazy back then. World War II, into the Cold War, Red scare, everybody suspicious of everybody. Rock and Roll coming into its own and being scary as FUCK. Dudes just shaking their hips scared old people and made it devil music. And then you got people going into space, The President of the United States getting shot. Shit was WILD back then.

And then here comes Charlie, who grows up and more people get shot, the hippies show up, and everybody is on drugs. But by all accounts Charlie was a square. A nerd that got swirlies I guess. But boy when he hit the late ‘70’s he fell in love with punk rock. And that fueled his rebellion. He was about anarchy, fighting the man. He was going to concerts, hanging out at bars and clubs and probably doing some shady shit.

I mean, he was. He said so during a drunken rant a time or two.

But then something happened and all of a sudden he was 25 and realized dying his hair and spiking it into a mohawk wasn’t going to be the best option. Because shit changes when you’re 18. There’s no test or anything that says “You’re an adult now.”
You just…are.

 And suddenly, Charlie had to figure life out after a few years of still being carefree despite not actually being able to be as carefree as he was. And so, Charlie grew up and finally tried to get his life together, but those 7 years of drinking, smoking, doing copious amounts of drugs, fucking, and being a punk rocker had left him 7 years behind.

He wasn’t good at anything. Those times where you’re supposed to learn a skill or trade or… anything useful, he had pissed away starting to start a band and an anti-government coup. Probably both at the same time. But once that faded, he had to try and fucking do something.

So he spent the ‘80’s and ‘90’s trying to find something. To become something. All the while still maintaining the rebellious spirit he had. He was still anti-government, but that shit doesn’t pay bills. He spent the better part of two decades landing odd jobs and getting fired because he was a functioning alcoholic and drug addict. Finally, he became a contractor, working for himself and doing roofing, landscaping, shit like that. And he found himself wanting to settle down.

And so, this being the ‘90’s, he found the internet, a fancy new thing to try and get himself a girlfriend and wife. And he set his eyes on a woman named Sarah Clyde. Only, by this point, he wasn’t looking for the girlfriend or wife type. He wasn’t trying to find that at all. What he thought was settling down wasn’t even that.
He was simply looking for a permanent hookup.   

And Charlie took advantage of Sarah, who was only 17 at the time.
In the year 1999… Charlie was 38.

He wined and dined her, and I mean, Sarah was captivated and probably had a thing for older men. Some people are like that. And she thought she was going to live a life that sounded pretty good to a teenager.

“You don’t have to work, you can stay at home, you have money so you don’t need to worry about anything like that. He’s got the job, the car, the career, the house. He knows what he’s doing. He’s got life figured out.”

That sounds pretty great for someone who isn’t even out of fucking high school.

And for the record, nobody has life figured out even at 38. When you’re trying to have a relationship with a person half your age, you have NOTHING figured out.

Charlie set this relationship up and they kept it a secret for six months. He groomed her. And then Sarah turned 18 and now, like I said before, she was an adult. Again, you just are one day. Shit is weird like that. So, Charlie, who had money, bought a house and moved himself and Sarah out of Michigan entirely and settled in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

This was part of his manipulation and control. He moved her away from everyone she knew. He convinced her this was the right thing to do because he was going to make her life easy. But Charlie wasn’t looking for a loving relationship. Simply, one of dependence. She would be dependent on him, and without him, she would have nothing, and be somewhere where she would be well behind if she attempted to leave.

And the dream scenario turned into her nightmare, because that’s what always happens.

Charlie never went anywhere with Sarah. She may have gone out on her own from time to time, but she had no social life. She didn’t know the neighbors, didn’t work, didn’t drive, she had the bare minimum, and she slowly began to realize that maybe this wasn’t what she wanted. Because, again, she was FUCKING 18. I cannot imagine how batshit crazy the life she was living was then, but I think I have a pretty good idea.

And maybe Charlie sensed that was what was happening, because in 2000, on October 31st, they were married. A 40 year old man married a 19 year old girl. Answering the question “Who the fuck gets married on Halloween?”.

Timing is everything in life I guess, right?

And then, to ring in the new year, Sarah got pregnant. And Charlie was not happy about it. He realized what it meant for him. He now had an extra mouth to feed, and not one that could give him any personal benefits. Sarah was nothing but a concubine for Charlie. And with her pregnant, sex was… less of an option, not that he didn’t try. But now she had less uses. And seeing this as a big negative instead of life being created…

Charlie kicked Sarah out of the house with nothing.

And for two months, Sarah had to stay at a shelter, having no money to do anything for herself.

After those two months, Charlie came back. Perhaps coming to his senses, or more likely, perhaps sobering up for a short period. Charlie poured his heart out to Sarah who, not having any other options, took him back and moved back into the house. And for that short period? Life was as she thought it might be.

And 9 months later, out popped little Francesca Denise Holliday.
September 10th, 2001.
Yes, if you ever had any doubt, I AM a harbinger of world-changing events.

Charlie, at that point, thought about actually settling down. He took care of me, from what my mother told me. He played with me, carried me, bought me things, changed my diaper and all that stuff that dads are supposed to do. Perhaps I gave him some kind of purpose, a reason to not be a complete shithead.

But, turns out, that wasn’t true either.

As soon as I could walk, talk and move about a house of my own volition, Charlie pretty much tagged out on actually being a parent and left that up to Sarah. I became just another mouth to feed, and not one that he was personally interested in feeding if he could help it. Charlie was 40 and wondering what the hell happened to his life.

I became a burden.

I suppose that being a parent isn’t something you just can do without actually wanting to do it. And I know Charlie didn’t want to do that, mainly because of how I was treated.

Now, Charlie was never abusive to me. He never physically harmed me. No, that was too much effort. He may have had some actual disdain for me as a person. I cramped his style, I had to be taken care of. But once I hit the age of 14, I was paraded in front of Charlie’s friends and co-workers. Several times, I was hit on my men nearly 3 times my age, and Charlie didn’t really care. I found it terrible at first. I wasn’t even fully into my body, not developed as a person, and so while I thought this was terrible at first, I became used to it. But I couldn’t become my mother. So that’s why I say at first, because I began to understand and figure out that these men would give me anything I asked for. So, I began using them instead. And I amassed quite a bit of money, gifts and clothes, simply by flirting with 40 year old men, and never giving them anything in return other than a compliment, and most of the time, my time to listen or simply be objectified. It was a small price to pay for becoming a hustler at the age of 15 with literally no consequences.

But Charlie wasn’t impressed by this. I don’t know if he really cared about me at all. He never told me he loved me. Every request was a huge burden, every holiday a complete fiasco. More or less, I got presents and other material things so I would shut up and leave him alone, unless I could do something for him.

The only other real use I had was drunken therapy sessions, which is pretty much where I learned all the information I know. Now, it IS entirely possible that Charlie was gaslighting me, so there’s that aspect as well.

I suppose that was enough, since I did manage to become a fully functioning adult, so there’s that. Not that Charlie is or was interested in that in the first place. I was, and always will be a burden to him, I could never please him, or make him proud or even happy for me. He believed he did his job. And to an extent, I suppose he did.

I have not seen Charlie since I left. That night, Charlie has no idea who I was, and assumed I was either A) A hooker, or B) There to rob him. So he pulled a gun on me, and told me to get out of his house.

So I did.

And I’ve been on my own ever since.

 I don’t know if he’s still alive. I will assume he is though. If I know anything about him, it’s that all the years of drugs and alcohol probably gave him a death tolerance. Death has been coming for him for a long time, and he has persisted for this long.

That’s what I know of my father. I suppose it’s cliche that a girl would have daddy issues.

 But I’m different.

 I don’t JUST have daddy issues.

I have mommy issues too.

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