“I think this is the end for me, Lu.” Alex’s voice was soft, sitting there on the edge of the bed.

It was the first time they’d been together in the same place for a while. Their schedules hadn’t really matched up for weeks, and for better or worse. She was going to take the moment to just be there. What she saw, however, scared her. She knew he’d been slowing down for a while. She knew that his body had been slowly falling apart for a while. But now that it seemed like his mind was going too?

Luna wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing up against his back. Sitting up on her knees, she placed a gentle kiss on the top of his head. He placed a hand on one of her forearms, and leaned back into her. He was warm in her arms, but she could feel the weakness in his shoulders. He’d been suffering from a headache for the most of the day, so they hadn’t really done much. She wasn’t upset at it though.

“You’ve needed a break for a while. Maybe you’ll finally get it. I hope we do. Both of us.” Luna spoke softly, tightening her grip on his shoulders. He nodded a little, then sat up a bit straighter. His shoulders were tense, but the concern part was his breathing. She could hear the shakiness. He hid it well for the most part, but in moments like these. Moments when it was just them, alone, in the quiet. He couldn’t hide it from her.

“High Stakes. That’s the end of it. Win or lose. Doesn’t matter. I’m done. I don’t want this anymore.” Alex said softly, slowly moving her arms away from his neck. Standing up slowly. Standing and stretching his arms out. He’d shaved his head again recently. Shorter than normal. It was the first time she’d really seen the scars on his skull.

She’d always known they were there. He’d taken his lumps early in his career. Lauren had convinced him to give it up all those years ago, when he was lying in hospital with swelling on the brain. The simple truth of it was that he was never going to have a super long career. He’d taken too much damage too early. But seeing the scars, they made that more real for her. It also made her wonder how much of his mental collapse was lingering effects from the attacks to the head.

The more she thought about it, the more worried she became. The more she was aware that James’ collapse wasn’t simply an unfortunate fate. It was a reality of what happens to those who push themselves too far. It was something that was possibly in line for her own husband. It was something she needed to be entirely aware of. That trauma like that? It would be enough to ruin everything.

And then she watched as his knees gave out, and he fell. Watched as he collapsed to the floor clutching at his head. Digging his fingers into his skull. Luna felt like she was watching it all in slow motion. Then she realised the world around her was slipping away. Disappearing. She remembered she’d seen this before. She remembered…

She woke up.
Sitting bolt upright in bed, drenched in a cold sweat, she placed a hand to her chest. Breathing heavily, as she scanned the room. She knew she’d seen that before. A memory of an event that didn’t exist. A memory of an event that she’d only been shown in a dream. An event that…

“I heard you weren’t entirely happy with the way I conducted business. I must apologise, that was… unbecoming of me. I’m still unfortunately fully adapting to being… human? To being, different, I suppose.” Mors voice came through, although, it wasn’t truly his own voice. It was that of Sullivan Pleasant. She should have been more concerned about this person suddenly appearing in her bedroom, in the middle of the night. If there hadn’t been so many strange goings-ons these last couple years, it probably would’ve resulted in her screaming.

“Your head of relations is a fucking cunt.” Luna said sharply, pulling her blanket around her, sitting up a little straighter in bed. The spot where Alex had been, empty. She never heard him get up. She never felt him leave. Had he ever really been there? She was certain of it.

“Mr Mire has been under a lot of stress. Please forgive him. It proved difficult to get the charges against this shell to… disappear. Nevertheless, I’m here to make the deal. The deal with the devil you were so concerned about. I like you, Mrs Pasilno. I truly do. As such, consider this pro bono. Mr Rabenschwarz has simply stepped out for a cigarette. Alas, I cannot fix the issue here tonight.” Mors said, sitting in the armchair in the corner of their bedroom. His face was obscured by shadows. She was thankful for that, really.

“Why are you here then? To piss me off? To give me nightmares?” Luna snapped at him, staring daggers at where his eyes would be, masked in the darkness. She could hear him laugh a little, and he sat forward just slightly. Not enough to show his face, but enough to show some level of disdain. He was far less… threatening in this way though. No longer an obnoxiously large creature.

“As a warning. What you saw? That’s not a possibility. That’s inevitable. You are both headed down a dark path, and I need you to understand. When we seal that part of his mind, you may lose him forever. Is that really worth the risk? I wonder. Do you adore him as he is, or do you adore him for what you wish he was? The walls were broken, but I did not cause anything to happen that wasn’t always going to.” Mors said, yet there was no threat in his voice. He just seemed truthful. Like this was… honesty.

“What do you mean?” Luna asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“This loss? That’s all Mr Rabenschwarz. Something he tucked away, sure. But not something I made. You risk losing him, if you want it fixed. You risk the inevitable that I have shown you. That’s all. I thought you should know. Unfortunately, plans are in place. It’s too late now. I hope you tell him how much you care.” Mors said, standing slowly. Finally his face hit the moonlight coming through the window.

His features are obscured by the mask. The mask she knew belonged to Mors. The mask she knew covered the face of her brother’s killer. The mask she knew ruined everything. She was not thankful for it. She hated that she was trapped in life like this.

And then with a blink, he was gone. There was nothing to even suggest he had been there. She heard the balcony door sliding. She heard it close and Alex’s bare feet thudding on the floor back to the room. He looked drained, but he still managed to smile at her.

“What are you doing up? Bad dream?” Alex asked, and Luna did her best to try and smile. But she couldn’t. Not today. Not tonight.

So she cried.


“Disappointment. I was a disappointment to our illustrious queen. I was a disappointment to the woman who spends more time talking about how lacking others are, rather than focusing inward. Rather than focusing on what she has to offer. Rather than focusing on what she could be doing to make herself anything other than the rampant joke and the detestable filth that wallows at the bottom of people’s boots. Victoria Lyons wants to talk to me about being a disappointment? Oh, honey. We’re going to see what a fucking disappointment looks like.”

“The woman who has done nothing, was expecting better from me. How sweet. She had such high hopes for me, and because I didn’t live up to her fantasy, thus disappointment. Disappointment because she’s already been shown what happens when she steps in the ring with me. Disappointment because I didn’t simply give into her tiny little warped view of the world. Disappointment because, forbid it, I didn’t do exactly what she wanted. Oh sweet, sweet angel. Let me fucking tell you what a disappointment is. Let me make it real fucking clear for you.”

“Disappointment is the woman has done everything she actively could to upset people, but being less than a fucking afterthought at the best of times. The woman who thinks so lowly of her own tag partner, that she constantly belittles him by comparing him to my own husband. The woman who thinks so poorly of those she surrounds herself with, that she has to envision herself in positions that belong to others. Belongs to others because at the end of the day, the delusional queen is nothing more than that. Delusional. Unable to step to the plate. Unable to actively do anything she claims. A woman who has been protected by dwindling at the bottom of the card. That’s the truth of it.”

“Whilst Victoria Lyons has been opening shows, I’ve been closing them. Whilst Victoria Lyons has been fucking begging for attention, I have been showstopping. I have been career ending. I have been breaking, and hurting and bleeding every single woman who dares even look at me wrong. Whilst I’ve been doing things to ensure that nobody could forget me, you’ve been desperately doing everything so that people will just see you. Open their eyes to Victoria Lyons and try to see her beyond anything else than a desperate little girl, who is wallowing in her own pitiable self-image.”

“Disappointment. That’s what you fucking called me. You have the audacity to call me a fucking disappointment, when you’ve done nothing to show that any of the faith placed in you is worth a damn. Distracted by Bella Madison, because you underestimated me. Losing to Kayla Richards, because you just aren’t quite good enough. Soon to be a former Bombshell Roulette Champion, because girl, you aren’t fucking holding onto that belt when I’ve got my sights on it. You’re not going to get out of that ring with the championship, because  I fucking deem it. I will not let you simply overlook this.”

“You want to talk about disappointment? Disappointment is the girl I thought had fucking moxie, turning out to be nothing but another catty, mouthy little cunt. A fluke victory? You want to talk a fucking fluke? You want to talk about tests? Who the fuck have you tested yourself against? You’ve beaten a cavalcade of nobodies and never-wills. You’ve been scraping by on nothing but pure delusion, and now. Now you actually have to step up. Now you actually have to prove yourself. Now you actually have to step to the plate, and the pressure? The pressure isn’t on me. Like you said. I lost to Cassie Wolfe, so I am the disappointment.”

“So what is the excuse going to be when you’re gasping for breath, because you can’t breathe through your nose anymore? What is the excuse going to be when you’re tapping out because you can’t take the pain anymore? What is the excuse going to be when you’re down and out for a ten count? It doesn’t matter the stipulation, it doesn’t matter where fate takes us. The end will always be the same when it comes down to you and me, Victoria. You’re going to lose, and I’m going to relish in the tears. I’m going to relish in knowing you’ll be wallowing in your own self-pity. Your own self-doubt. Your own self-hatred. I’m going to drink in the tears and pain, and know.”

“I’m going to know that every bitchy little word out of you. Every nasty action and behaviour. Every choice you’ve ever made to be in my fucking orbit is going to crush you. See that’s the part that gets me, Victoria. Since day dot, you’ve made it your mission to be fucking involved in my life. Involved in the life of those I love. The more and more I look at it, the more I see. You fantasise about being attached to a group like that of which my husband was part of. You tried to punish Aiden Reynolds by throwing him at Alex after he embarrassed your cousin. Except that one day of power just did not get you the outcomes you needed. You wanted to cosy up to me, paint me up with nice words and love, in hopes that we could be what? Fucking friends?”

“You’re never going to have any fucking friends.”

“You’re an insipid slithering little cow of a pixie bitch. Let me say that again for you. A fucking insipid slithering little cow of a fucking pixie bitch. You’re going to get your face smashed in. Your nose busted, and your pretty little face left a bloodied fucking mess. You’re going to lose everything in the blink of an eye, and then. Then you’ll remember why it happened. Why you can’t breathe, and why you can no longer see straight. You’re going to ask for help to wobble your way backstage, and then you’ll twist and twist the outcome in your mind. To justify it. To claim you lit a fire under me. To try and turn what is a losing situation for you, into something positive.”

“But it’s not true, Victoria. It’ll never be fucking true.”

“You did say something that really gets under my skin. Something that seems to be the same horseshit that gets thrown at both Alex and I. This idea that each of us are lesser than the other. The idea that each of us is the hanger-on to the other. Despite us being two of the most active people in this place all year. Despite us being two of the most fucking successful people in this company, all fucking year. Diminishing is all people fucking have. Diminishing and continuing to tear it all down. You wanted me to emerge? I don’t think so.”

“I think you’re jealous of everything I have, Victoria. I think, as much as you want to focus on the few things you have, you’re jealous of what others have that you don’t. Someone who loves me for who I am. People who respect me. I’m sure it boils your fucking blood that Kayla Richards respects me, and detests you. I’m almost certain it boils your fucking blood that your cousin is a perpetual failure, and my husband is the constant focal point. The true workhorse of Sin City. You can’t trust in your own family to do what you need them to do, and it upsets you to no end. It upsets you to no end that you are the disappointment that you see in everyone else. The disappointment that you want me to be. Projection is an ugly, ugly fucking thing, sweet angel. Yet projection is all I see from you.”

“Ultimate test, that’s what you’re calling this right? You’re calling this the ultimate test, because in your mind the only thing that could truly matter is if I have my eyes set on you. No, the ultimate test for me was picking myself up after the loss of my brother. The ultimate test for me was taking all the upset, rage and hatred. Taking it all the way with me, and proving that I am one of the best here. Samantha Marlowe, Kim Pain, Kat Jones, Eiley. Ask any fucking one of them, and you’ll know. You aren’t fucking ready for what I am going to bring. You aren’t fucking ready for what is in store for you. These aren’t idle threats, these are fucking promises from The Idol.”

“You’re no fucking queen, Victoria. You weren’t chosen by the grace of god, or given the right by anything other than dumb fucking luck. You want to talk about holding onto something? You’ve spent your whole time here holding onto that one success. Holding onto the idea that you did anything of note, because you happened to slap a match together that got a few people riled up. You’re a walking fucking hypocrite, Victoria. The worst part of it? You can’t see the truth of what is right before you. People wanted to compare us at one point. Compare your delusional fucking ass to my ‘crazy’ one. But I’m not crazy, and I’m sure as hell not fucking delusional.”

“I’m just angry. I’m tired, and I’m upset. I’m full of this unending anger for you, for this place, for the fickle fucking fans and for everything that is trying to tear me down every single day. I’m tired of it all, and I only have you to focus that on. I only have you to blame for it all. I only have you to destroy. So I’m going to do that, Victoria. No amount of being ‘disappointed’ is going to change that. No amount of poking and prodding is going to change that. You want me focused, Victoria? You’ve got me fucking focused. You’ve got me locked in. You’ve got me angry and prepared for what is to come.”

“I’m going to hurt you, and I’m going to be fucking happy about it. I’m going to stand over your limp body and hold the championship high. I’m going to place my foot on your chest and hold up the championship you hold so dearly. In such high regard and esteem. I’m going to look down and smile. Smile at the damage I’ve done, knowing that not only are you going to be broken physically. Your mind will be shattering at the mere image of it. That looking up and knowing you weren’t good enough. That the woman who lost to Cassie Wolfe, beat your fucking ass from pillar to post. I’m looking forward to your mind falling the fuck apart.”

“A Queen, that’s what you want to be. I can understand that. So let me let you down gently. For the Mad Queen? There is no happy ending. For the craziest will always be usurped, and if holy retribution is fucking needed than so be it. For there is a God, and she is me. I am the Idol, and the Masochist. If you’re the Mad Queen? I’m the one true fucking Queen. The Queen of the Conspiracy, and the Queen of Sin City. I am your motherfucking god. Don’t you forget it, bitch.”

“The Conspiracy is here. And we’re coming for your fucking head.”

There was part of her that really enjoyed being in the UK. They’d been doing day trips and running around to whatever places they could find whilst they were there. Alex had found a few old monasteries that still had bootleg breweries going in their basements to sample. Luna had forced them to go and visit the various locations of Jack the Ripper’s killings, and a few other iconic places associated with different serial killers of England’s storied past.

Today however, it was almost another work day. The documentary that Dick Hammering had been working on for Alexander Raven, was in need of some more interview footage. Which meant Luna had to spend the day with the seedy little man, whilst Alex was off filming some B-Roll and going through historical footage from his UECW and uXw days.

This time there was no Adrienne for her to bounce off, so she was feeling a little bit more out of sorts than she had in the past. Instead of being cooped up in a make-shift warehouse this time however, they were in a far more comfortable environment for her. A classic feeling pub, one that reminded her somewhat of James’ bar back home. They’d somehow managed to rent the place out for the day, so only crew members, Richard Hammering and Luna were on site. She wasn’t quite sure what was going to be the rundown for the day, but she’d been asked to think about what the future holds for the both of them.

“Okay, t-minus five minutes until we get started. Luna I’m gonna get you sitting in that booth over there. Beer, wine, spirits or something else?” Dick’s whiny voice carried through the air. Everyone seemingly shuddered at the shrill sound. At least she wasn’t alone in not particularly liking the man.

“A pint probably makes the most sense. Location-wise, and… us wise.” Luna said, sighing a little as she plopped herself down in the booth seats. Taking a deep breath as one of the assistants put a pint down in front of her. She suspected it had been poured a little while ago, because the head had mostly gone and it seemed a bit warmer than usual.

Dick pulled up another seat, as he placed himself down to the side of the camera. One of the people went over a few details with her as Dick went through a few notes with another of the crew. A few nods, a few acknowledgements and then they were straight into the swing of things.

“Things have changed dramatically since we last spoke. Championships, feuds and battles. The defeat of streaks, and the looming threat of retirement from your husband, Alexander. But as interesting as what has come, we’d all love to know. What does the future hold for Luna and Alexander?” Dick asked, flying straight into things. Luna nodded a little as she took a sip of her beer, looking down the barrel of the camera.

“You know, it’s a good question. We’ve been asking ourselves that for a little while now. This year has been hard, you know? After losing James, the both of us have sort of been treading water. We’ve been throwing ourselves into our work so hard attempting to find some peace, some purity. Something different to keep ourselves going. Alex seems pretty intent on retiring soon, and I can’t blame him. He’s wrestled harder than most people do in thirty years, in just the decade he’s actually been in the ring. I’m not ready to hang it up, not even close. I was late into this, and there’s this part of me. This part that wants to do this, to be successful for my brother. To make Jimmy proud.”

“I think about it a lot, you know. I’d love for us to be able to go back to Australia. To leave James’ bar in Adrienne’s hands and just… be away from it all. To be closer to the place that had so many happy memories. Give Alex that ability to go and visit the grave of his ex-wife. As happy as we are, I know part of him feels regret for not being able to go and talk to her. He beats himself up for it, you know?” Luna continued on, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. She took a deep breath as she took another deep drink of her beer.

“For a long time, we’d convinced ourselves we didn’t want any kids. Alex has had the snip, and I’d never really wanted to be pregnant. But I think priorities change a little. There’s this part of us that wouldn’t mind it so much. I’m not sure what the change came from, but the conversation has come up a few times.” Luna said, furrowing her brow a little as she thought more on it.

“So, a move across the world and the potential for an adopted little one running around. That seems like an interesting turn after a career of violence, blood and seemingly endless aggression. A pure end to the career some might say.” Dick said, more a conversation point than any questions.

“Like I said, I don’t really think I’m ready to give it up. I don’t really think Alex is either. I suspect that come October, there’ll be some closed door meetings. That’s the thing with this business, you know? Leaving is always a pipe dream, because the feeling of being in the ring? There is nothing quite like it. The adrenaline, the adulation. Even when the world hates you, there is something pure to it all. There’s a future for us, but I don’t fully know what it holds.”

“One day, we’ll work it all out. When the loss of James isn’t so fresh, and we’re more certain on whether or not a little one in our lives is a good idea or not. There’s just a lot to consider, and I think the future is never really clear.” Luna stated, nodding a little to herself as she sat there.

Dick nodded. There were numerous more questions, things about the past, the present and the future. The interview felt all over the place. But for a moment, there was clarity. Each day there felt like there were vaguely more reasons to live. To keep going on. To be alive.

Little did she know, the peace she had been finding in dreams of potential were about to be taken away forever. Little did she know that at that very moment, Alex was dealing with choices we made. That they were losing another friend, forever. Even if they held no love for that man anymore.

Life was never simple.


“I’ve sat here for the last week. Trying to think about what is to come. About who is in my way. About the women they’ve put in my path once again, trying to force me to prove that I belong here. I’ve been thinking about how it is going to feel putting each and every one of these useless fucking women through a table. Proving beyond a doubt that Bella Madison doesn’t deserve to be in the championship match. Proving that once again, I am better than almost every fucking woman on this roster. Proving that I should have been in the Proving Grounds.”

“See for me, success comes when I put each and every one of them through a table. Eliminating each and every one of them to prove that not only am I better, but I am the best. That I am the future, I am the present and the past has nothing on me. But the more I sit there and think about it. The more I start to wonder. I start to wonder why things are the way they are. The more I start to wonder if this is truly the world I live in. Cause I must be going crazy.”

“I must be going out of my mind. Truly, I may actually be insane. It has to be me that’s lost my marbles, because the absolute dribble that I had to listen to from Cassie Wolfe and Alexandra Calaway? It defies belief. There is no way the shit that they tried to throw not just at each other, but at me could actually be what they said.”

“Let’s just sit on this for a minute. Cassie Wolfe hasn’t even managed to get a win yet. Has done nothing but abuse other people, gets given an opportunity she doesn’t deserve in a match with women who in the very least have shown up to be somewhat interesting. She has over a year worth of tape to look at, a year worth of things I’ve said, I’ve acknowledged, I’ve done. She’s got all this to work with, and the fucking best she can throw my way? Complaining about her shit-hole state, with its shit-hole capital, and how she is going to ‘pop my ego’.”

“The woman who has been consistently knocked flat on her ass, who couldn’t get a single person to take her open challenge, has the audacity, the fucking stupidity to question me? You want to talk about getting a clean win, Cassie? You want to tell me to come and talk to you when I can ‘beat the champ’ on my own? How about you come and talk to me, when you do anything worthy of being in this situation, lover. I thought Krystal was dense, but at least she showed up now and then. You Cassie? You’re the absolute epitome of why I have such disdain for your home state. The absolute epitome of why I detest your bogan backwater oversized country town of a city.”

“Every little thing that comes out of your mouth Cassie just reinforces this image of uselessness. Yeah, you do have the most to gain from winning here sweetheart. You’re absolutely right, you delusional little angel. You have the most to gain, but you also have so much to lose. Another failure, another loss? What does that do for your image? Does it reinforce the idea of you being any level of a good signing for Sin City? No, I think you’ll find that our sweet surrogate corporate daddies will have to re-evaluate just how giving they are with their contracts. The worst part of it all, Cassie? You clearly are hiding behind these jokes, which… I don’t think anyone has ever laughed at. But you hide behind this image of carefree rebellion.”

“A carefree rebellion which just doesn’t match up at all. The rebellious little girl, who sat by the sidelines and let the world pass her by, because nobody cared to take your challenge. Instead of doing something, instead of making movements, taking action? You just cried about it. Like Krystal would. Like your friends constantly do. The Conspiracy is often accused of saying things against us are part of a conspiracy. There is a certain irony in it all, but at least when we feel like the world is bearing down on us, we change our speed. We change our tact. We do something about it. We don’t sit by and let the world pass us by.”

“You want to see rebellion, little girl? You want to see people do something different, be their authentic selves? All you have to do is look at me. Understand that I am a motherfucking king. I am THE IDOL of Sin City. When I fell and felt like I was losing my way. We went and ruined Samantha Marlowe and Ben Jordan. When I was resentful of the bureaucracy of this place. For the overt power mongering that the Corporate fathers put on us? I made myself in-fucking-dispensable. I became untouchable because they needed me. They needed their workhorse. They needed the woman who was making others elevate. They need me, but Cassie? They’ll never need you.”

“Truthfully, this is just consolation for what should have been mine. A journey back to the top, with the ability to reconcile my past mistakes. After Violent Conduct? I’ll be the number one contender to the Roulette Championship. My sweet loving husband will be the reigning Roulette Champion, and after I rip that pixie nosed bitch’s face off? We’ll be the King and Queen of the Roulette division. Violence incarnate, and the true fucking rebels of this business. Succeeding even when they didn’t want it. Succeeding when they do everything to ensure failure.”

“You’re here to get a chance, sure. More than that however, you’re here to skew the odds. To make it harder for Luna Pasilno to get the leg up and be the future contender that I know I am. That they know I am. That every single fucking woman in this company knows that I am. So when you fall apart in the match, I want you to understand something. You’re nothing compared to me, you’ll never be in my league. You’re just another forgettable cunt in this division. Filled with so many women who are undeserving.”

“What I wish you had done, Cassie? Is take the route of Seleana. To shut your fucking face, and just let things be. Don’t think I didn’t notice your silence, Seleana. I wonder what it is that made you feel like you had to be the quiet little mouse. Hoping to fly under the radar maybe? See I have a bit of a bone to pick with you. Last year, at this very event? You got a sneaky little win over me. Granted, I was in a pit of despair and self-loathing. Funnily enough, I wouldn’t have expected to be in such a state in the future too, but c’est la vie.”

“I need you to remember, Seleana. Your success is a memory. Like everything in your life? A memory. You are the problem with this company right now. Another veteran trying to parasitically suckle at the success of your betters. Of women who are paving a path to the future. You are in the way of women like me. Your silence speaks volumes for you, Seleana. I can see it now, the despair. The disdain, the fear. I want you to think of the women whom I have put out to pasture. The list of women with your experience, your accolades, that I have torn down. I want you to look at the failing upcoming youth in women like Harper Mason and Cassie Wolfe. Forgettable nobodies like Georgie and Dawn. Your own fucking wife, who I beat for the Roulette Championship in the first place. I want you to look at everything I’ve done, and know.”

“You’re the next ragged bitch I’m going to take out. You’re the next cunt of yesteryear that I’m going to knock the fuck out. That I’m going to punch your face in so hard, your own family will refuse to acknowledge you. That’s what is waiting for you at Violent Conduct. That is what you’ve got to look forward to. Your silence is my pathway to being golden. But you’re not the only overused and rundown bitch in this match that needs to be put in their place. No, there is one other woman who continues to be a thorn in my fucking side.”


“Oh Ally, sweet baby girl. We have done this dance before. Over and over, and every single time? You come up short. Not because you had an off day. Not because you underestimated me. Hell, I think you’re even going to try and pull the ‘oh but I was injured, I was concussed, I was…” blah, blah fucking blah routine again. No, I need you to understand something you insipid fucking bitch. You couldn’t beat Victoria, I did. You’ve never been able to beat me, not in your own ‘playground’ of violence. You’ve consistently been short when it comes to the true future of this business. The rookie who beat your fucking ass, who continues to beat your ass, and walk you like the bitch you are.”

“You want to talk about being the woman who ushered in a new era? Who the fuck did you actually beat in your reign? Who the fuck did you come anywhere close to being remotely more interesting than? Whilst you were middling your way around the forgettable Bombshell Roulette division, I was getting my dues in. I was learning to be better, to be stronger. To wrestle harder, faster and quicker. It’s funny that the lady who has a new fling every other month has the audacity to comment on my marriage. On our successes in this business. On our journey. I won the Blast from the Past, and yeah. That denied Alex his win. A win he didn’t want. A path he took because they were literally begging for some internal talent to step up.”

“They threw Mark Cross and Peter Vaughn at you guys, and they couldn’t stop you. You won that championship back for a mere moment, and then failed to hold it. Failed to stop Victoria Lyons from humiliating you. Another young woman putting your weathered ass in its place. You did need The Conspiracy, that’s the simple fact. You’ve failed as a tag team partner over and over.You’ve failed to make any mark of merit in this business, because you are nothing but a hanger-on. A hanger-on to others in an attempt to be something more. The only difference right now, is you actually found someone even more useless than you to attach yourself to. Poor Lyle. Having to be the meat shield of your inferiority.”

“You want to talk about brittle? You want to talk about having blood on your hands? The only one of us that has ever successfully had any blood on their hands, is me. Your blood, every single fucking time. Your knees giving out, every single fucking time. You kept mentioning ‘if’ you could do these things. If you could beat me, you could take out three other women. If and if and fucking if. The thing is, lover? They are just fantasies. You can talk about what ifs until the cows come home, but you’ll never be better than me. You’ll never be at my level. You’ll never beat me, because the difference between you and I?”

“I’m just fucking better.”

“I don’t believe in higher powers, Ally. Everything I do in this world is my own choice, because the simple fact is this. There is a god, and she is me. So bow your head, and acknowledge your betters. For I am the Queen, and you are nothing but another begging peasant attempting to start a coup. The problem? You’re liked even less than the town drunk, and get even less respect. You want this to be the end? So be it. I’m sick of beating your ass. I’m sick of being forced to prove myself over you, and every other weathered hags in this business. You want to get personal? Lets get fucking personal, bitch.”

“I’m going to roll around in the pool of blood that you leave in the ring, and thrive because of it. After all is said and done, you have to watch as I get my hand raised in victory, again. I want you to go home, pack your bags and fucking leave. I want you to go away, because I never want to have to see your stupid fucking face ever again. Four and none, and that’ll be the stain on your life forever. A story that ends with you being unable to keep up, and stay relevant. The Cheeky Brat, the Sassy Princess and the Silent cow? The three of you, you’re just in my way. You’re just another obstacle for The Idol.”

“Pray to whatever deity you believe in Ally, come Violent Conduct. I’m fighting to put you to sleep. I’m fighting to remind you that the only woman worth anything in this company? You’re looking at her.”

It was a little surreal to be back in James’ bar. It was even more surreal to see it full of people again. To see people laughing, and talking. To see them experiencing life, and in turn experiencing another’s. Adrienne had deemed that James was purposefully keeping her from getting in the ring from beyond the grave, and that was a sign. A sign for her to pursue her more creative endeavours. To pursue her photography and be more true to the creative he saw.

Luna was less inclined, but she had to admit. Adrienne had an eye for it. Led strips were wrapped around fence trellis that had been slapped on the walls all around the bar, and out in the beer garden. Both inside and outside bars were flowing, people chatting, admiring the work. A fair few pieces had already sold, which meant they probably got paid rent this month from her. It was more a pay when you can style system with her. She’d uplifted her life to come over, the least they could do was try and make it a little more liveable for her.

It was just strange seeing this place so full of life again. Alex didn’t spend long. He’d done the niceties, even bought one of the prints, but she could see it on his face. This place was forever going to haunt him. Every time they’d come through, his eyes fixated on a part of the flooring that was a little discoloured. She knew that must have been where Alex had tried to stop the bleeding. Had done his best to keep her brother stable until the ambulances arrived.

But he was haunted, and this place he couldn’t be in. Not anymore. He said he was going to go for a few drinks elsewhere. To call him when she was finished and they could meet up and head home together. Which meant that she was getting drunk by herself as Adrienne was running around stressed about the whole exhibition. Sitting at a table by herself, she raised a beer to her mouth, knocking half of it back. A far too confident man decided he was going to shoot his shot. Ignoring the ring on her finger.

“Mind if I sit here? Can’t leave artwork as pretty as you all on their lonesome.” The guy said, met with a roll of the eyes from Luna. She waved a hand indicating the seat was free, but didn’t offer much beyond that.

“Not much of a talker? That’s okay. So what brought you here tonight?” The guy continued on, oblivious to her utter disdain.

“It’s my bar. It’s my friend’s show. That’s the short of it.” Luna said, taking another big mouthful of her beer, acutely aware of how low it was running. The guy cocked an eyebrow, seemingly surprised by her answer. To which part, she wasn’t quite sure.

“Well, I was going to offer to buy you a drink, but I guess that wouldn’t help you much would it? Adrienne’s got a great eye for this stuff, but now that I know she surrounds herself with such gorgeous people, I can understand why.” He said, shuffling over a little bit. Getting slightly too close for her comfort.

“Are you purposefully oblivious?” Luna asked incredulously, making a point to point at the band on her finger.

“Yeah, but I saw him leave earlier, and I can’t believe he’d simply leave someone like you on their own if things were going great.” The guy said, a twitch of frustration flickering across her features as he kept talking.

“Insecurity is not a flattering feature, nor is the possessiveness of women. Please leave me alone.” Luna said, downing the rest of her beer. She started to get up to move, before the guy's hand came down on her thigh. A terrible decision.

“Come on now, we can just talk can’t we? No need to run away.” He said, her eyes cutting straight into his soul. If he wasn’t so drunk, he might have actually noticed the visible anger in her eyes.

“Take your fucking hand off my leg, before I snap every fucking one of your fingers.” She went to lift and move his hand off her leg, but he in turn forced their fingers to be linked. She felt like she was going to be sick.

“I do like a feisty little minx.” He managed to say before there was the audible sound of flesh to flesh. Without thinking, she punched him straight in the nose with her other hand. He grunted for a moment before his nose started to gush with blood, pretty clearly having broken it. Her hand throbbed a little from the force of it, before the guy pulled himself away from her.

“We have a strict no bleeding policy, you’re going to have to leave.” Luna said, shaking out her hand. A few nearby patrons, friends of the guy she assumed came over. Dirty looks thrown her way as they moved him away. If she wasn’t so confident that the spindly baby soft arms that got thrown over shoulders and held her tightly were Adrienne’s, she’d probably have punched out a second person.

“Lulu, I love you, truly. But can we not punch out potential customers?” Adrienne said softly, resting her chin on Luna’s shoulder.

“Tell your potential customers not to get handsy with me then.” Luna said sharply in response. She really wasn’t in the mood.

“That was a good one though. I wish I had my camera. Maybe you can get me a media pass? Fly me around so I can take pretty pictures of you and Lexi. Plaster you up on the walls and sell your pretty mugs to everyone.” Adrienne said, her mind suddenly off and racing.

There was something sweet in her ability to see a positive in any scenario. Looking at the photos hanging on the walls, she wondered a little. What was it that Adrienne was trying to capture? What was it that she wanted the world to see in a way that she was able to through the lens of her camera?

“It feels weird, being here. Alex feels suffocated here. I don’t blame him.” Luna said softly, leaning her head to the side to rest gently against Adrienne.

“I’m sorry sweet pea. I would’ve done it somewhere else, but… I don’t really have the options right now. I wish I could do something for you both.” Adrienne said, pressing a gentle kiss against Luna’s cheek. One of her friends brought over a couple beers for them, smiling at Luna as she left them. Guess the sleaze wasn’t on many people’s good books.

“I’m just tired, lover. Tired of pretending I’m not. Tired of people like that guy. Tired of wishing things could have been different. I just want to sleep.” Luna said softly, reaching forward to grab one of the beers. Adrienne shook her head a little.

“I get it, chickie. I really do, but I don’t want to see you go away. I don’t want to see Alex go away. I don’t want to see any of you go away, you know? Not to sleep forever, not to disappear. I don’t want my photos to be the only thing I got of you guys. Got enough ghosts haunting the polaroids already.” Adrienne said gently. She wasn’t one to normally get so sentimental. It was touching, in a strange way.

“Take me for a walk. Tell me the story you’re telling here. Tell me what’s next. I want to hear it all.” Luna said, wiggling Adrienne off her shoulders as she slowly stood up. The two of them met each other's eyes and smiled. She didn’t have many friends left, and Adrienne had proven to be a problematic one in the past, but. Maybe she really did just need someone to talk to, to be around, to goof off with. To take selfies and be happy for a minute.

It made her realise how much happier and carefree she’d felt when she and Sean had been becoming friends. How much happier and focused she was in that whole lead-up to the championship match. To have the ability to be happy in her own life, even if she was a vengeful, angry and ‘crazy’ bitch in the ring. Adrienne picked up her beer in one hand, and linked her fingers with Luna with her other. A big beaming smile.

The Marigold herself.


“When I lost the Bombshell Internet Championship in my first defence. In my first defence against the woman who I had spent months uplifting, only for her to spit in my face and in turn ignore my existence ever after. I fell into this rut. I fell into this pit of self-loathing, self-hatred. Despair and disdain for myself. It took me a minute to come out of that fugue. Threw myself at the mercy of Tempest in an effort to feel something. Threw myself at the mousey little bitch Courtney Pierce, and like so many others. Lulled her into an understanding. I’m not sure what it is really.”

“I’m not a particularly likeable person. I’m foul-mouthed, I’m curt and aggressive. I call people snarky little things, and call them out on being the cunty little goblins that they are. Yet they still like me. Kayla, Tempest, Courtney, and even Alexandra Calaway. No matter how rude I am, they always find a way to like me. Be it respect for the tenacity, be it an understanding of the woman before them. I’m not sure, really. Whatever the reason, it reminds me that as much as people want to see me fail, they can’t help but root for me to win. So when I look at the state of things, I can only wonder.”

“What do they see in Victoria that makes them think we’re anything alike?”

“I think it comes down to visuals. The optics of it. They look at the delusional Victoria, prancing around calling herself queen. Attempting to get under people’s skin. Attempting to hurt others, and they think that makes us the same. They want to tar the ones that they see differently all with the same brush. Nothing exists on a spectrum when it doesn’t fit their rhetoric. I don’t agree, and I don’t like the accusation.”

“I don’t like that they want us to be seen the same, because the truth? We’re not even close to being the same. We’re not even close to resembling each other. I’m not fucking crazy, I’m just passionate. I’m not fucking delusional, I’m just confident. I’m not like Victoria Lyons, because the truth of it is she is nothing like me. Victoria is fucking batshit. She is what they think I am. She is what they think I have always been. But it’s not true, is it?”

“No, see I might be a little passionate. I might be a little ‘crazy’ when I need to be, but there’s a reason for the way that I am. There is a reason I talk about hurting and being hurt. See when I was in that fugue and wanting to feel alive, I learnt something about myself. I learnt that just because people love you, doesn’t mean that they like you. I learnt that just because I love someone, doesn’t mean I won’t call them out on being the cunty little cows that they are. I learnt that people will feign respect just in hopes that you will not succeed. So I’m not crazy for being angry. I’m not crazy for telling people I love them, and I am not fucking crazy for simply being me.”

“See, I know a thing or two about being called a Queen. I know a thing or two about prancing about calling oneself a Queen. I know, because that was me. I was the fucking Queen of Sin City. Or at least I thought I was. I thought I was the Queen of Vanity. I thought I was the Queen of the Conspiracy, because I had the One True King by my side, you know? I thought these things because I was delusional enough to think the words made it true. I was delusional enough to think that simply because I wished for something, that it had to come true.”

“I learnt the hard way that words just aren’t enough. I learnt that simply because I wanted to be Queen, didn’t make me one. That wearing a fake little crown wouldn’t change that. Simply pretending wouldn’t change that, no matter how much I tried to delude myself. That is something that you are going to learn, Victoria. You’re going to learn that simply wanting something to be true, doesn’t make it so. See I’ve earnt the right to be called The Idol of Sin City. I’ve fought, and bled, and beaten and broken everyone who wants to deny me that right. I have done my mileage because I deserve to be in this position. I deserved to be the one across the ring from Kayla Richards. I deserved to be in that Proving Grounds series. I deserved it, because I fucking worked for it.”

“You? You won a pretty little crown and in turn lost sight of yourself. Prancing about calling yourself the Queen, when in reality? You’re just a fucking lunatic wearing a piece of plastic and thinking that changes anything. I can respect you in some ways Victoria. You’re doing some tremendous things. You’re on a tear that most people wish for. You’re on a streak that puts you in the company of Kayla Richards, Juliana DiMaria, Amber Ryan and hell Masque if you really want to go back to it. You know what I’ve come to learn about streaks? They’re even more painful to bounce back from. They’re even harder to pull yourself back from. They’re not great for those of us who are just a little bit more akin to the divergence of our minds. Do I think you can beat me? Sure. I don’t think there is anyone that couldn’t if they tried.”

“Just like, I don’t think you’re untouchable. I don’t think you’re crazy enough to keep up what you’re doing. I don’t think you quite understand that looking at me like I’m Bella Madison, is the dumbest fucking thing you could do. You might be hating her right now. She may be the target of your ire, but let me tell you just a little bit of truth. Song thought she was stronger, faster and better, and I told her I’d punch my way through her fucking chest if I needed to. She fell. You might think it’s a benefit to you to see me through the lens of your disdain, but I promise you this. If you aren’t ready for Luna Pasilno, you’re going to get your pretty little nose punched through your fucking face.”

“If you aren’t ready to step into the ring with me, Victoria. I’m going to show you the difference between a false Queen and a fucking true one. If you don’t think about who you’re actually stepping into that ring with, you’re going to learn why I am the Idol and you are just the pixie little bitch that people can’t wait to see get her comeuppance. If that falls to me, so be it. I don’t care to be part of your little war with Bella Madison. I don’t give a fuck about what you have going on, but I do care that I’ve been sucked into it. You picked Kayla Richards and then Bella felt obligated to pick me. At least give me a little something to do before Violent Conduct.”

“But maybe, just maybe, you get a fucking taste of what is to come. Maybe, just maybe, you get a little bit of a taste of what true Violence is all about. See, I look across at my husband and I see the freedom in hurt and pain that comes with the Roulette Championship. I didn’t get to experience enough of it. A wet behind the ears, green as grass starter, I had a flash in the pan reign with the Bombshell Roulette Championship, but now. Now maybe when I leave you a whimpering little mess in the middle of that ring, they’ll think about what could be if they just give me the chance. Maybe my sweet surrogate fathers of abuse and disparity will see that the two women who walked into Violent Conduct to contest for the Bombshell Roulette Championship, couldn’t stand up against two of the best that this company has to offer.”

“Maybe, they’ll look at you and think that the gold would look so much better on me. A true power couple of violence. Maybe, just maybe, they’ll hope that you aren’t in any state to keep on defending that championship. Maybe Kayla breaks Bella’s body so badly that they just have to put the woman who left their champion a bloodied fucking mess in the ring in a position to win the big one. Maybe I get the fucking recognition I should be getting. Your stupid little battle cost me my chance to be in that number one contendership match, and I do not fucking appreciate it. I was denied the Proving Grounds, match-ups against Raine and Juliana. Matches people want to see. Instead, I have to deal with the delusional plastic crowned Queen of Sin City.”

“So whilst you might be seeing Bella Madison in me, I’m seeing everything fucking wrong in this place, with you. I’m seeing what The Conspiracy is actively working against, in my own treatment because of you and because of Bella. I’m seeing things I hate and I hate that I have to deal with them. So I’m going to have to punish you for it, because I am sick of people using me as a stepping stool. I’m sick of people using me, period. I’m sick of people thinking that simply because I exist, that I am a tool at their mercy. I am not anyone’s fucking tool. I am not anyone’s stepping stone. I am not anyone’s to do with what they want, because I am my own fucking person. I am Luna Pasilno, I am the Idol of Sin City, and at Climax Control?”

“You’re going to be calling me mother, as I walk you like a fucking dog all over that ring, and then? You’re going to thank me for it, Victoria. You’re going to thank me for making you see the difference between you and me. You’re going to thank me for showing you that being a snippy little cow isn’t enough to step toe to toe with an angry fucking bitch like me. You’re going to thank me for taking your win streak away, and then you’re going to thank me for the reality check. For putting you back in the box, and making you understand. You’re no fucking Queen. You’re just a crazy little bitch playing dress-up.”

“I’m not bitter by any means. I’m just tired. I’m tired of working my way up, just to be spat down to the dregs again and made to wonder why they simply use and abuse. I hate that I lose opportunities because of the fickle and hateful nature of cunty little fucks like you and Bella Madison. I’m just tired of it. So I’m going to punch your face in. I’m going to kick your throat shut, and I’m going to slice your calves so much you’ll be begging to never step into that ring again. Why? Because I fucking want to. I’ll see you at Climax Control.”

She wasn’t entirely sure how she had been roped into this one. She knew a bit of yoga. The idea that she was a screaming banshee had somehow become public knowledge, and she was originally just going to lounge around on the cruise, soak up the sunrays and think about better days. Instead, Alex had been given a bar takeover, and she was expected to run a 6AM Scream Yoga session. Part of her wondered if this was just an elaborate rib.

Regardless, the hungover lady rolled out her mat and set herself up in the allocated space on the deck. There was a surprisingly decent crowd who had turned out. Maybe a case of some people thinking it’d be funny. For others a good excuse to just let out some excess energy. Confessional for those who wouldn’t quite understand the scream part of scream therapy. Much to Alex’s disappointment, she had not in fact purchased a Grinch suit to wear.

Much to her sorrow, Alex had brought his giant bird outfit that he had worn to the Triad Draft Party, that she had first bumped into Sean at. Which meant, in the crowd of sunnily dressed, athleisure wearing ladies, and too many blokes in their speedos and briefs, there was her husband.

Dressed up in an outfit covered in feathers, a fake beak and a headpiece. Sweating up a storm in the clearly poorly aerated outfit. Sometimes she truly wondered what attracted her to him. She was certain that in the throng of gatherers that had also gotten up this early, there were a few other SCW talents. Scouting, looking and attempting to discern what it was that these crazy people were doing. None that she could discern from first glance. No time better than the present. She clapped her hands together, gathering people’s attention.

“Alright, ground rules. Keep your hands to yourself, stick to your mat. Don’t look at anyone else, don’t be a fucking creep. Please ignore the giant chicken man, and whilst I encourage you to be liberal with getting your inner turmoils out, be aware that everyone here can and will hear you.” Luna shouted out, looking around at people. Bringing attention to the giant chicken man, in turn made a lot more people notice him. Sitting front and centre.

She already needed a drink. Hair of the dog.

“Alright follow along. Be considerate. You don’t have to make noise, you don’t have to scream. If someone else is releasing, let them have their moment of peace. If I’m talking, you’re listening. If I am moving, you are following. If I tell you to fuck off, the big scary security guy over there is going to rough you up and then politely ask you to fuck off. Alright, stand with me.”

The group stood on their mats watching intently. Something soothing about being the centre of attention. She was more narcissistic than she let on. Even if she did currently look exactly how she felt. She took a deep breath in, holding her palms together, and slowly exhaling. Nobody was being a weirdo just yet. Well, just one. But that was understandable.

Fucking Alex.

She took in another deep breath and at the peak of her breath in…

“My husband is a fucking moron!” She shouted out at the peak of her breath. A few people were laughing, losing focus. A smile settled on her face. She was at least going to have a bit of fun herself.

What she didn’t realise was this was going to unleash the floodgates. Another deep breath, followed by a slow transition into a low lunge. This in turn resulted in a few people just letting out primordial screams. More laughter, and then more screams.

“My wife doesn’t know I know she’s having an affair and likes watching from our nanny cam!” A random person shouted out rapidly. Luna screwed her nose up a bit. A few people fell from the pose as they broke into laughter. The person looked instantly embarrassed.

“Not sure we needed to know that, but you do you.” Luna said, straightening up as she in turn transitioned to a Natarajasana, watching as a few people’s eyes bulged out of their heads. Clearly a lot had turned up to participate in the yelling, not realising that the yoga component was going to be a bigger part of it.

“My wife wouldn’t wear matching outfits, and it hurt my feelings!” Alex shouted out this time. Doing his absolutely best to try and match the pose. His pants had a surprising amount of stretch in them, even if he was going red in the face trying to do it.

“I don’t know who Song is, and at this point I’m too afraid to ask!” Another random voice. Luna was doing her best not to laugh as more and more people started yelling out random things. From the gratuitous and frankly borderline gross, to the dumb things and simple observations.

This continued on for the next thirty minutes or so. More and more people are joining in, non-attendees now standing at the edge of their little circle, listening and watching in. Fifteen or so minutes in, people seemed far more relaxed. Smiles on their faces. A genuine surprise it would seem at the humanity that The Conspiracy couple were capable of. A real split from the on-screen persona that people would be so akin to.

“My wife is going to be world champion, and I couldn’t be prouder.” Alex shouted. A few cheers, a few whoops. A moment of embarrassment for her. There was always going to be part of her that couldn’t handle hearing nice things. A few murmurs and nods, a few agreements. She knew that come showtime, she was going to be booed almost off the ship. She knew that in a scenario where she won the championship, the crowd might be muted.

That was her fear. The fear that if she won, nobody would care. Or they’d be so shocked that they just would reject her. Reject the idea of her as champion. Reject the idea that someone from The Conspiracy was going to be the world champion. That was her fear.

“I’m afraid of the reaction if I win.” She mumbled to herself. Nobody heard, but Alex could see the sudden wash of concern. No rest for the wicked. She went through the rest of the session, more strange admissions from people. More laughter, and by the end of it, most people seemed to be in good spirits. There were smiles all around, and people seemed to be in good spirits.

She was doubting herself. A camera crew were on their way over. She’d front loaded her morning, in order to ride out her hangover for the rest of the day. But she was feeling slightly too lucid for the moment. She had to flick that switch in her head. To turn it on for the cameras. To be slightly less raw than she had been. To be the fighter that people knew her to be.

“You made people like you today. You made an impression. You have a connection now. There won’t be silence when you win. They will cheer or they will boo, but either way. It’s going to be the loudest reaction you’ve ever heard. These waves are going to hold their voices, and you’ll know. You’ll know you’ve made it.” Alex said as he stepped up to her. Wrapping an arm around her waist, his yoga mat in his other hand. The smile, the happiness. The smell of sweat from the man that had been boiling inside his stupid chicken suit.

“You stink.” Luna said back, smiling at him. The words were kind, but the doubt was in her head. The doubt that she would be rejected. The woman desperately craved being idolised. The Idol and The Masochist. Conflicting and competing ideas.

“You need a drink. I’ll grab you one.” Alex said, rubbing her arm slightly, before pulling away from her.

“Grab my sunnies too. I can’t stand to look at that garish outfit in full colour.” Luna said in response, screwing her nose up as she looked at him. He just smiled and nodded. And she breathed out heavily.

This was really it.


Luna is sitting cross legged on a yoga mat. There are a few people milling about, but they appear to be leaving. Rolling up their own mats, talking about where they are going next. A few standing around gawping at Luna and the camera crew that had arrived.

“A poignant question. Can I do it? That’s the question you asked me to ask myself. To ask myself, if I do this can I handle the pressure? Can I handle putting the bombshell division on my back? Can I fight off the demons of my past and be the champion you want me to be? To be the champion that this place needs me to be. It’s a question I ask myself over and over. It’s a question that people constantly throw at me. The holding over my head of the bullshit expectation of perfection. To be more full of vanity than I ever was. That’s the expectation, and the insults that come from not matching them.”

“Krystal Wolfe was the queen of asking me to doubt myself. To try and throw my two short reigns in my face. To try and throw this idea that simply because I stumbled soon after picking up my first ever title wins, that I am somehow lesser. That my victory meant nothing. I don’t quite agree. I don’t quite agree with the idea that because someone didn’t hold it for the eons known and made a historic and record breaking run at the top, that their achievements are diminished. We can all have a bad day. We can all have an off day. We can all have a learning experience.”

“That’s what I chose to take from my failings, Kayla. I chose to take them as lessons. I chose to take them as ways for me to better understand what it takes to be champion. What it takes to hold up to that pressure. What it takes to be the one that people are watching and wanting to fail, because then it validates all their negative remarks. It validates every negative thing they’ve ever said. It validates the criticisms, it validates the hatred. See I think the telling thing here Kayla, is the way you talk about things.”

Another raw look at the woman. No make-up again, simple athleisure wear, her hair tied back in a messy and loose bun. The bulk of her hair swaying with the slightest movement, the sway of the ship swinging it about. She rubs a hand over her face, massaging under her tired looking eyes.

“You say you doubt that I can take the championship from you. You backtrack on what you’ve been saying for months, because now you have to play the adversary. You have to be on the same level as all the others that can’t admit that maybe someone can beat them. That maybe someone can be their better. Except… you do think I can beat you. You know why I know that?”

“It’s the words. You’re not asking if I can handle the pressure of being in the main event. You’re not asking if I can handle the pressure of standing across the ring from you. You’re not asking if I can do that. You’re asking if I can handle what comes after. You’re asking me, if I can handle the pressure of being the top bitch in the Bombshell division. You’re asking, because deep down. There’s this little part of you that doubts yourself. That doubts that you can stand up to Luna Pasilno. That doubts you can run it back again.”

“There’s this nagging feeling in the back of your mind. That this might be the end of two belts Kayla. I can hear it, I can feel it. All that confidence, bravado and arrogance. It means nothing when you’re already looking at if I can succeed in being the bearer of the weight. You can hide it with affirmations of belief, you can hide with claims of grandeur. You can hide behind your own protections all you want, but the truth is Kayla. You don’t just think I can win the championship.”


She raises a hand to her hair, slowly pulling it out from its bun, standing slowly. We momentarily see Alexander Raven, handing Luna a pair of sunglasses with a quick thumbs up before quickly jetting off and out of frame. A quizzical cocking of the eyebrows, followed by a head shake as she puts the sunglasses on. Hiding the growing irritation in her eyes. Scream yoga clearly not doing its job.

“This is more than just a possibility in your mind. This is more than a possibility in everyone’s minds. See I might have lost more in my journey to the top. I might have stumbled more, I might not have the stunning pearl white home and away record. But I do have the ability Kayla. I have the ability to be the upset. I have the ability, the fucking talent and the skill to be the top of the division. Going into that Blast from the Past, there isn’t a single person that would have believed Luna and Sean were going to win the whole thing. Why would they? Luna is just a loser, and Sean was an unknown here.”

“So we went out every fucking week and smashed it. We went out every week and worked in sync. Tandem pins, tandem wins and we proved that we are the danger team. I proved that when the pressure is on, I can fucking perform. I can stand on my own two feet and be the winner. I can stand on my own feet and pull anyone to a victory. I proved that I am the woman of this year. Truthfully? Alex and I are probably on track to be the winners of most hated this year. We’re on track to be the standouts this year, and we are fucking on track to be the two most powerful fucking people in Sin City, and that? That is because we haven’t sat back on laurels. We haven’t rested.”

“We are the workhorses. For better or worse, there is nobody that is here more than us. There is no one getting more reps in the ring. There is no one racking up more wins, and hell we’ll take the losses too. Nobody comes fucking close to us. So yeah, you might be pretty and pristine in your record. So few losses, but they’re always at the big events where it matters. You want to talk about pressure? You want to talk about not being able to handle it? Evidence points to you not being able to handle it when it matters the most. You dragged Juliana to the main event, due in part to her infernal and incessant squealing for recognition. The faux humility of the second most arrogant cunt in this company.”

“Who is number one?”


Another quick cameo. Raven hands her a glass, of what appears to be her new favourite, a mimosa. Another thumbs up and then he is gone again. A flicker of irritation jetting across her features, her lips curling into a scowl. Angry, angry lady.

“Unapologetically so, and I don’t blame you for it. I’d be an arrogant insufferable cunt too if I had the record to back it up. I’m already an arrogant, vainglorious insufferable fucking cunt, but that’s just part and parcel for who I am. You know what my issue is, Kayla? I’m too nice to those who I think deserve just a modicum of friendship. I’m too nice to those that I think deserve to have one friendly person in their purview. To have one respectful opponent. To have one person who gives a damn about the friendships that we can actually have in this business. I’m too nice.”

“I was too nice to Ariana, and that cost me. A point you made abundantly clear about your disdain for. A point I hold with vitriol in my heart. A woman who for better or worse, is a selfish and self-idolising bitch. But I’m learning my lesson. I’m learning that if I want to be champion, if I want to be the woman that all others lust after. If I want to be the number one, I have to be ruthless. I have to be hateful. I have to be angry. I have to tear down this semblance of kindness that I build up for those I thought deserved it, because the truth is, they fucking don’t. None of them deserve it. Not Ariana, not Tempest, not even fucking you.”

“My love for people is my greatest undoing, and I am tired of being doubted because I think myself worthy of being respected. Being hurt because I happen to care just a little bit about the woman across from me. I’m the bad guy, and I’m the crazy one. Just because I happen to be able to show love to people. Always love, and in return? Hatred. Doubt. Fear and accusations of being irrelevant. Tied to a shadow, tied to a person who I am soon going to exceed in success. I love Alex, but this is my fucking time.”

“So if I have to break you Kayla? I will. If I have to hold you under the water in a nearby pool, I will. If I have to throw your fucking limp body over the edge of the ship, I will. That’s not hyperbole, that’s fact. I will do anything I need to, to make sure you fail. To make sure that you stumble. To make sure that you fall. To make sure you understand that this wasn’t just another title defence. That this wasn’t just another match for me. That this was the be all and end all. See if I lose here? I don’t know what comes next. I get thrown back to the bottom of the pile. Have to crawl up and through Krystal Wolfe, Ariana Angelos, Alexandra Calaway and hell, probably even Juliana, who at this point probably has a bigger bone to pick with me than anyone else.”

She takes a long, deep drink of her mimosa, as she crosses over to a railing of the ship. Looking out into the sea. Out toward the rising sun. The light reflecting off the water’s surface. A gold and blue morning.

“What you need to remember Kayla, is I fought my fucking way here. I beat Kat Jones, Kallie Reznik. I have repeatedly beaten Alexandra Calaway. Samantha Marlowe hasn’t been seen since I beat her fucking ass. Kim Pain? Gone. I stepped up to Tempest, I got myself thrown about by Courtney Pierce, Krystal Wolfe and Tempest. I have spent this whole year fighting. Clawing and biting my way to this match. I didn’t drag anyone to a match, I made them do everything they could try and escape it. I’ve made every person I’ve fought understand that if they don’t care to show me respect? I’ll claw their fucking eyes out.”

“This is everything to me Kayla. Can I do it? You’re damn right I can do it. I can beat you, I can take the championship, and I can continue bringing the Bombshells of this company to the main event. I can beat the Kayla Richards of the world and remind everyone who the fuck Luna Pasilno is. Because I think everyone is quick to forget. I think you’ve been quick to forget what it took for me to get here. I’m not going to spout off a sob story about doing this for my brother. I’m not going to spout off more woe is mes, and pretend like I am owed the world because of it. I am owed this because I fucking worked for it. I deserve this, because there isn’t anyone who is putting in the work that I am. There isn’t a single person, yourself fucking included, that has done what I’ve done. I’m going to be a three time champion, and I’ll be a fucking grand slam champion. You can peddle about in the Mixed Tag division, and when Alex finally gets his way? Maybe we’ll come for those again.”

“See, this is about more than just proving I belong. This is about proving everything The Conspiracy has said over the last two years, true. About proving that we have been continuously overlooked. That we have been slighted at every turn. That people have done everything they can to deny us, because in accepting us? They lose all their power. They lose all control that they have had, because the Workhorses will not let them ignore it anymore. No one will be able to say I don’t deserve this. Nobody will be able to ignore me any longer. So I hope you’re ready Kayla.”

“I hope you’ve asked yourself can you do it? Can you stop the inevitability that is Luna Pasilno? Can you take another loss? Can you come back stronger next time, or have you achieved everything you can? Have you reached your zenith, and now the only way for you is down? I know what I’m putting my money on, bitch.”


She stretches her arms out wide, basking in the morning sun. Basking in her own arrogance. Basking in the idea of what is to come.

And then…

Darkness.

Silence.

Nothing.

It was a bad week. It had been a series of bad weeks. Some would say a bad year. Luna was one of those people. Today however? Today was one of the worst days. Today was one of those days where she wanted to hide from the world. Today was one of those days where she wished things were different.

It was just one of those days.

They’d been fighting all day. Well, more so, she’d been fighting with Alex who had been doing his best to be understanding. To be kind. To be nice. To understand that she was entitled to her grief, but taking it a step too far. She had never felt so alone as she did today. Surrounded by love, but not what she needed. Adrienne had flown home to see friends, Harry was completely off the grid and Sullivan wasn’t taking visitors at all at the moment. Granted, she’d only be going to scream and yell at him, and get asked politely to leave. It would be something different in the very least.

“I’ve put up with a lot today, Luna. I’ve let you be angry. I’ve let you be upset. I have let you yell, and abuse and scream. I want James too, but I’m not taking that out on you. I haven’t ever taken it out on you. So until you’re ready to stop yelling, I don’t want to see you.” Alex said bluntly. She simply stared at him from behind a teary veil.

And then he turned, walked out and closed the door behind him.

Her legs gave out from under her. Her body dropped to the floor. The earth itself seems to suck her up. Then she realised how apt that was. The floor itself was eating her up. A black sludge spewing from the floor itself crawled up and over her. Over her arms and legs. Pulling her into a void. Swallowing her up.

She struggled against it, but it was like thousands of hands holding her down, holding her hostage. Hundreds of voices echoing around her head, the world exploding in colours and images of Alex walking out the door. Leaving her to suffer. Leaving her to struggle in her own self-pity. She squeezed her eyes closed, feeling the ooze crawl up onto her face. Covering her entire body. Suffocating her, climbing into her body. Trying to force its way into her closed eyes, up her nostrils and into her mouth. To drown her from the inside, and crush everything within.

She opened her mouth to scream.

And then she woke up.

It was the middle of the night, the struggling breathing of Alex next to her sending an instant rush of relief through her. He was propped up, but the busted nose had made him sound like a backfiring muffler. She reached out and touched the bottom of her lamp, turning it on a low light setting. Sitting up in bed, pulling her knees up to her chest. Pulling her knees up to her chest, and wrapping her arms around them. Holding them tightly to herself.

She rested her head on her knees, looking at Alex sleeping next to her. Part of her wanted to cover his mouth just to see how he would wake up. At the same time, she was just momentarily content to watch him. To sit there and watch him. Knowing that it was just a dream. That he hadn’t left. That he wasn’t leaving. That the only torture of the dream was the dream itself. That and that she did feel so horrifically alone right now.

She had been so independent only a few years earlier. Before coming across the world with James. Before reconnecting with Alex. Nowadays, she felt like she was just hanging on. Becoming the thing that everyone had been accusing her of. Becoming attached at the hip. She used to have so many friends. The faces at the funeral, she knew so many of them. They were their friends, but now. Now she had no one. No but Alex, and loosely Adrienne. But Adrienne was still a child at heart. Too many instances of risk, not enough of understanding.

She adored that girl, but she wasn’t safe around her. Hell, she wasn’t really able to trust half the people she once knew. That might be why she had such infinite faith in her brother and Alex. The two people that actually had helped her. That had helped her stay clean. That held her hand in the hard times. That made her believe that she was good enough to break through.

It didn’t help that she felt so alone though. She didn’t have James anymore, and no matter how much she talked about it. No matter how many times she tried to deal with it, to grieve and mourn. To try to work through it. She was six months out from his death and she felt no closer to peace. No closer to acceptance. No closer to being better. No amount of success in the ring, no amount of trying to make new friends. None of it was helping.

But that didn’t stop her from wanting to hurt everyone else. From wanting to make everyone lose just like she did. The truth of it being that ever since she’d made the decision to hurt others so they felt the way she did. She hadn’t lost a mixed tag match this year, for the most part being the one to win the match too. She’d bounced back from the horseshit with the Internet championship at the start of the year with Courtney Pierce, Krystal Wolfe and Tempest. Part of her wondering why every other person seemed to have been given another chance at Tempest, and she had, yet again, been stopped.

Maybe Alex was right. Maybe they really were out to get them.

She lowered one of her arms from around her legs, and reached across the bed. Taking just a couple of Alex’s fingers into her own hand. Giving them a gentle squeeze. He snorted somewhat in his sleep, almost choking on his attempt to breathe, gently squeezing her hand in response. She didn’t even know if he was actually awake, but even in his sleep. He loved her.

Her dreams weren’t real, she knew that, but still. She needed to know he was there. To make sure he existed within her world. To know he was real. To know that despite all the fighting through the day, he was still there. That he would always be there, because god forbid she was ever truly alone again. She wouldn’t make it. That was the truth of it. She had become so dependent because she had nothing left. Nobody left.

“I want my brother back…” Luna mumbled to herself, leaning back a little. Nothing else mattered right now. There was a sweep of wind, and then she found herself standing in an infinite void. Darkness stretching every which way she looked. She was asleep again, but she was aware of it. She was never aware of her dreams.

And standing there, a few feet in front of her, a robed figure. His skin painted with an ashy grey colour, his robe hanging loose from his shoulders. A strikingly white mask covered with an array of red markings. She had never met the man, but she knew. This was Vita Mors.

“Where am I?” Luna asked, her voice echoing for what felt like forever.

“Would you believe it if I told you, we were inside Mr Rabenschwarz’s mind? A part of it anyway. A part that he doesn’t know exists. A place where I currently reside. Pulling strings, playing things out.” Mors said, raising a hand, and sweeping it out in front of him. An image appeared out of the darkness and then suddenly they were standing in Alex’s old family home.

Looking down on herself holding that small baby. Sean looking over her, and James standing behind her. A still image of a memory that was her own, a desire that was her own. That place, that… thing that Sean had shown her. Her breath caught in her throat.

“I’m not typically a sentimental one, but having spent as much time with Mr Parker and Mr Rabenschwarz. I can’t help but admit getting just the slightest bit choked up at this scene. I’m used to seeing such grandiose desires. I’m used to seeing people wishing for everything, and though this is your everything. It is… simple. It is… ordinary. I have been perpetually intrigued.” Mors said as he stood there, observing a private thing. Her desires.

“How the fuck are you here? How are you doing this?” Luna asked, struggling to comprehend what was happening. She had to be dreaming. She had to be asleep. She just needed to wake up.

“Alex intends to evict me, and I for one am happy with the idea. Though, a quick eviction seems unlikely. No, I expect it won’t be until sentencing of one Sullivan Pleasant, that I’ll get my new host. A person that… owes payment. In the interim, I am here. Trapped in his mind, though with that, I have the right to do as I wish. To plant the memories and the images that I want. To keep him enthralled. The payment he made.” Mors said.

“Why can’t you just leave us alone? He only came to you because he wanted my brother back. He only came to you because you promised to give him that. To give us my fucking brother back.” Luna yelled, attempting to step forward, but finding her legs unwilling to move.

“Until I have ultimate control, I cannot do these things. I could forcefully take Mr Rabenschwarz, though I suspect him a better attack dog than a muted servant. I could, in theory, have taken forceful control of the people who work for my company, but a mindless thrall does not a good vessel make. No, I am afraid that until he presents me with Mr Pleasant, he is stuck with my company. But it also means that here, in the world dreams. I can make desire come true. Let you live the world and times that you want, until they become a possibility. Until they became reality. He gives me my payment and I give him this. I give him your brother. I give you the opportunity at the child you can never have. I am not your enemy, I am your opportunity.” Mors continued on, before turning to face her. A smile plastered to his face.

She stared at him, staring at the man who spoke in honeyed words. Offered perfect things, but as of yet seemed to have given nothing. Except… Sean had that device. Sean had shown her exactly what she wanted, so what or who was to say that he was lying. She’d know deceitful types, and strangely. She did not sense deceit from him. Fancy words and false action, sure. But he did seem… truthful.

“How?” Luna asked quietly. Mors walked forward to place a hand on her shoulder.

“All in time. All in due time, dear Mrs Pasilno.” Mors said, leaning down to smile at her. The familiar jawline made her shudder. She missed when things were as simple as a beer, cigarette and a line.

Maybe she hadn’t grown up.


“You know, I didn’t think they’d be giving me such a long break after winning the Blast from the Past. I turned up, made a big claim, and then… nothing. The champion treatment is what I’m starting to call it. No matter how much work a person seems to put in around here, the moment there is a whiff of potential in them? Barely a phone call. I’m beginning to understand why people like Juliana and J2H had to turn up week after week and talk into the void. I’m beginning to understand the difficulty in staying on top around here. It’s not a case of being overworked. No it’s not a case of having too much expectation put upon someone. It’s a case of the superiors doing everything they can to ensure that the people on top. They’re as unprepared as possible.”

“I can hear the excuses for the last few weeks though. ‘Oh Luna, it was just because the cards were booked by the King and Queen for a day.’ Or maybe, ‘Alex was getting a chance to shine after you beat him at Into the Void.’ Perhaps even, ‘They were just giving the workhorse time to recover. Just a few things I can hear bubbling beneath the surface. If that was the truth, I’d smile, bat my eyes and say thank you daddies for your benevolence. It isn’t the truth though. You only have to fucking look at the horseshit that has been happening around here since the start of the year to know that.”

“Finn and Kayla said they were going to be fighting champions. To make a difference, to be here every week showing up. I believe them. I believe that that is exactly what they wanted to do. I believe it because they aren’t that different from us. Finn and Kayla? It’s like looking into a mirror. The cut-throat, sharp talking but somewhat reserved sweet little boy, and the mouthy and aggressive flashy lady at their sides. Powerful women backed by powerful men. Powerful men backed by powerful women. Parallels can be drawn and everyone can see the similarities. The truth of it? That cruise ship should’ve been headlined by these two teams. The Conspiracy and the Wolves of Gheimhridh. This Mixed Tag Team championship match? It’s a vision of what should have been. What could have been. What will be.”

“I think it convenient that we’ve been demanding a mixed tag championship opportunity for a whole fucking year at this point. We were the favourites going into the match last year, and then… nothing? We get overlooked time and time again. For the Barnharts, for Miles and Alexandra, who’ve done exactly fucking what to earn another opportunity? For fucking Ben Jordan and the bitch I put to sleep, Samantha Marlowe. Overlooked time and time again, and for what? We get called fucking crazy for calling this out, because nobody wants to actually acknowledge what is happening. Nobody wants to acknowledge the hypocrisy of it all. Nobody wants to acknowledge that the only two people that have done anything to earn an opportunity at those Mixed Tag Team championships are Alexander Raven and Luna Pasilno. Nobody except for you two.”

“Our mirror images. The only two people that actually listen. That paid attention to what we do and what we say. The only two people I’d say understand us. The mixed tag team champions, the World Champions of Sin City Wrestling. Kayla Richards and Finn Whelan. The woman who showed me the respect I showed her.”

“It’s a funny little situation we find ourselves in here. In a few short weeks, we’ll be facing each other one on one. Standing in that ring to determine who the best woman in all of Sin City Wrestling is. In a few weeks, the friendliness and the kindness goes out the window for just the night. Truthfully, I don’t quite know how to feel about it. See, in the past, I showed kindness to one other sweet girl. Ariana Angelos, a woman we both quite acquainted with. I gave her friendship, when the world wouldn’t. I gave her understanding, when everyone was telling her she was wrong. I gave her everything I could, and how the fuck did she repay me? She took my Internet Championship and forgot about me. She didn’t even send her condolences when my brother died. I offered her the world and she spat in my face.”

“Now we stand on the other end. Different, but similar. I stand to take everything from Kayla. To take the Mixed Tag Team Championship, to take the Bombshell World Championship, and leave her destitute. To take everything she holds dear, and leave her with nothing. Respect only goes so far in the end. This kindness, this pseudo friendship. That all starts to fall apart when the cattiness comes out. When it comes to blows. When it comes to throwing hands and getting up close and personal. When championships and success come into it. When records and consistency are changed forever. It all changes when we give the world the ability to change everything.”

“So from the bottom of my heart, I want to tell you this. I love you, Kayla. I love you, Finn. Love isn’t going to change what I need to do. What I need to do. I need to take everything you hold dear, because I cannot let them continue to abuse and use us the way they have. To throw us at every problem, week after week. The two most active wrestlers of the year. Nobody has wrestled more than us. Nobody had been more successful in the Mixed Tag division than us. Finn and Kayla are undefeated for the year, and was it not for the finals of the Blast from the Past? Alex and I would be undefeated in Mixed Tag Team matches. This may be the most important main event of Climax Control this year.”

“See no matter what happens here, it sets a precedent. It sets a precedent for what is to come. Do Luna and Alex come up short in the division that they’ve been dominating all year? Do Finn and Kayla have their first loss of the year, just before the biggest title defenses of the year? Who loses their undefeated streak? Who gets the momentum in the lead up to getting on that ship? These are the questions we get to answer, and I am looking forward to being the bitch on top of the pile.”

“I love you, Kayla, but don’t mistake that for kindness. For forgiveness. For acceptance. I am not a kind person. I am not a nice person. There is a fucking reason that when I walk out to the ring, I remind everyone that I am the motherfucking king. I remind everyone why I am the The Idol of Sin City. That this sweet little masochist is ready to fight tooth and nail and tear it all down. Kallie thought she could step to me, and stumbled. Aiden thought he could step to Alex, and walked like a dog from pillar to post. So the next inevitable step is to turn from the dogs to the masters of the house. That’s simple logistics, I think.”

“I’m not going to come out and say I’m going tear you to ribbons. I’m not going to prance about pretending like I’m superior. I’m not going to rant and rave and scream and swear… I might swear a little, but. I’m not going to sit there like it's some fluke of fate that you are where you are, Kayla. It’s not true. Juliana, that was a fluke. One of the easiest run of defences as champion, and when she finally faced some actual competition? She faltered. Then she acted like it was a one off, and faltered again. She faltered because you are that bitch. You are that damn good, you are the fucking queen of this company. For now.”

“See I wasn’t being hyperbolic or absurd when I said I’m going to take everything from you. It starts this week with the Mixed Tag Team championships, and it ends on that cruise ship, when I stand tall on the seas holding the Bombshell Women’s Championship high above my head. When I get my hand raised in victory and everyone has to finally admit what has been staring them in the face for too long. Boy, that Luna, she’s fucking crazy but she’s legit. She might be our little Harley Quinn of Sin, but she’s the woman atop the dog pile. Look at that, Luna with two championships wrapped around her waist. Fanciful day-dreaming, but that is what I need. I need to manifest what is to come, and what is to come, is an uncomfortable reality. That as good as you’ve become, you might not be able to stay atop that mountain.”

“This is just the beginning Kayla, and I really do want to see where it goes. I hope you’re ready to see a spoiler of the ending.”

“But it’s not just about her, is it Finn? There’s a real danger now for you. Rodrigo? I don’t think anyone ever thought there was a true risk of him using that briefcase on you. If he did? Well, that would’ve been a silly little waste. Now however? Peter Vaughn. He’s a little more scary, I think. He’s a little more dangerous. The current Internet Champion, the one man everyone really expects to be the one to dethrone Finn Whelan. Every week now becomes a dangerous one. Every week that you have a hard match, it becomes a dangerous one for you. Anytime, any place. He can hand it in, and get that one prize he wants. The Sin City World Championship.”

“I quiver at the thought, sugar. I feel for you, truly. I feel deeply for you. But we like you. We trust you. We see something in you because you see something in us. Kayla sees something in us. Hell, even Aiden and Kallie have to see something in us now. So even when we beat you guys this week, you can rest assured. We’ll at least be on hand to stop the big bad mechanic from ruining your day. Maybe a little bit of a guilty thing. See, the only person I want to see take that championship from you Finn? That’s Alex. I want to see him take the mixed tag team championship from you, and if the time calls for it. I want to see him lift that Roulette Championship, the Mixed Tag Team Championship and the World Championship all at the same time, and then? Walk out.”

“See, this is about more than just taking everything Kayla holds dear. It’s to take everything around her down too. To take your success, your undefeated streak and everything you’ve built up. It’s to ensure that we, The Conspiracy, are the most important fucking people in this company. It is to ensure that when our contracts roll around, we are in the best negotiating positions of our lives. To hold all the cards, and be ready to play our hands. I’m looking forward to finally getting our time in the sun, and to ruin everything that they’ve built. I love you Finn, but I want to see you fucking hurt too.”

“But beyond all that. Beyond the fear of what could be, I think this is what should worry you the most. See we’ve got this idea on what we have to do. This is about ruining perfection. About ruining the beauty of that without smearing. You and Kayla? You’re the perfection. Undefeated records, powerful and defining championship reigns. A mixed tag team run that has been put on the back burner because your focuses have been elsewhere. It is unfortunate that it took this long for them to give us our opportunity. Unfortunate because now? Now we have everything to take from you. You’re another part of the dismantling I intend to do. Our focus Finn? It’s not just on the championships. Our focus is on what I want. On what I need, and baby boy. I always get what I fucking need.”

“And what do I need right now? It is to take Kayla apart piece by piece. To put her to the boot and put her down. To take everything she holds dear and punish her for her hubris. That is what I need. That is what I fucking want, and you Finn. You are going to help me do that. You’re going to be another thing she grows to resent. To hate, to lack forgiveness for. I want her to put her faith in you. To put her love and care in the idea that you can do what she cannot. That you can beat us, because truthfully? I think Kayla is just a touch more concerned than she is letting on. I think she is a touch more worried about what awaits her this week. About what awaits her come Summer Xtreme. I take her undefeated streak for the year. I take her undefeated streak on Climax Control, and then, I take her championship, and then?”

“I leave her with fucking nothing. No successes, no accolades. Not even a relationship based on mutual understanding. Because you’re going to cost each other everything. We’re going to take everything. And then you will thank us. Thank us for showing you what true strength is. Thank us for showing you what reality is. For tearing down the veil of deceit that you have built around yourselves. Because we love you, and it is only in love that truth can be seen. The truth, that you are not as good as you think you are. The truth that you cannot beat Alex. The truth that when it comes to the most powerful mixed tag team in Sin City? Everyone has been fucking blessed that we have been denied for so long.”

“We take the championships, and then we hold them forever. The best part?”

“Alright then. Show me.” Luna said.

Sean nodded sombrely as he handed the device to Luna. Her eyes fixated on the swirling mist within. Her mind felt heavy almost instantly. Transfixed to the spot. She heard Sean say something to her. Instructions. The words to say. It was hard to really tell. Something about it all made her stomach feel sick. A part of her mind screams at her to throw the device back at Sean and leave.

Sean had been only sweet to her. She could trust him, right? He wouldn’t do anything to hurt her, or Alex. This was to protect him. She could feel his hand on her shoulder. His eyes too were locked upon the device. At least if this was going to ruin her mind, he was comforting her. There were small solaces in the smallest of actions. Her stomach twisted, but she repeated the words spoken to her.

“Mater et infans.”

She blinked and she was no longer sitting in that bar in Turkey. No, she was in a familiar place. The home she spent years growing up in. Alex’s family home. That hand-built slightly more than a shack building. There was something different about it though. It felt fresh, renewed. The stagnant air of grief and regret didn’t seem to be there anymore. The walls were freshly painted, the carpet new and clean. Out of the corner of her eye she spied the kitchen. It looked like it had been cleaned and cared for. Idyllic.

It was the home they had once spoken of, all those years ago. What Alex wanted for them. Things had changed since then. Cheating, marriages, dead friends and James. Alex’s parents had long since passed away at this point. Yet here she was, standing in this room. Standing in this place that was only ever a dream. Only ever spoken in warm moments of teenage innocence. She heard it then. The soft gurgling of a small child. Alex stepped out from the kitchen, a tiny little creature wrapped up in his arms.

He looked so much happier. His face wasn’t drawn heavy with fears and stress. Instead his eyes are full of life, full of happiness. His hair was long and grown out, the messy mane she adored. His beard shaved down tightly, but framing his face. As much as her brain was screaming at her that this was all wrong, she could barely move. Barely breathe.

In his arms, a tiny little baby. Ringlets of hair cascading down around its face. He smiled, lifting the sleepy little infant, pointing her face towards Luna. The tiny little balled up hands, the sleepy rubbing of the eyes. The goofy toothless smile as it recognised Luna. Recognised its… mother.

“Is that mama? Mama and her friend Sean are here. Violet, can you say hello?” Alex spoke softly. Even though the words were simple, he didn’t baby them up either. Even in an alternate time, space and world. Alex still talked to everyone the same, be they six months or sixty years old. She could feel the tears welling in her eyes. She could feel Sean’s hand slip from her shoulder. Letting her live in that moment. Letting her step towards Alex and the baby. To the daughter she wished with every part of her soul could be real.

Alex stepped into her, and they awkwardly shuffled Violet out his arms into hers. She so desperately wished right now that her mind wasn’t swimming. That she’d had a couple less drinks, and that she wasn’t on the borderline of being slightly too tipsy. She held the baby all the same, her eyes full of tears. She turned toward Sean, holding the small child.

“Violet, we always said if we had a girl. We’d call her Violet…” Luna managed to squeak out. She knew this couldn’t be real. Her mind was telling her that this was all an illusion. Some magic fuckery from that cultish creature Vita Mors. A distortion of the truth, playing on her deepest desires. Yet as much as she tried to validate it to herself. To try and tear down the scenario in her mind. To tell herself this couldn’t be. Not now, not ever. There was a part of her that wondered if this was something that could occur. What payment could one make to change their reality to that of what they want.

Would she even want to truly do that? This may have been her dream, but she married Alex as he is now. They’d long since deluded themselves into believing they didn’t want children. His vasectomy was a convenient cover. A cover for the truth that Alex had found out long ago with Lauren, that he was sterile. Nobody was more hurt at the idea than Alex. Anybody who asked, he was so certain that he didn’t want kids. That might even be the case now. Adoption didn’t resonate with him, and she was never certain why.

Seeing him in this moment, it made it somewhat clearer in her mind. It wasn’t that he was so against it. It was that he was so destroyed by the idea that he never would be able to have a kid of his own. Seeing his face, the life in him. The happiness in the man she loved. Or at least, a representation of that. She could instantly understand. What she would give to change everything. To fix the wrongs of their own world and universe. To make them a fucking family.

“I don’t want to leave.” Luna mumbled to herself, sitting in a nearby chair. Holding the baby, staring into her tiny gorgeous little face. Her own eyes looking back at her. She had Alex’s features, his nose, his jaw and even his hair. The eyes however? They were like staring into a mirror. Staring into her very own eyes. Her heart panged, and the waterworks fell. Alex had strolled off back to the kitchen. Maybe he was cooking? She didn’t know. She didn’t really care. She didn’t ever want to leave this moment.

She looked at Sean, and did her best to suppress the tears. To stop crying in front of this person she barely knew. This person who was making her see her biggest dreams. Making her live her biggest, most perfect and wonderful dream. The person she thought was her friend, who was showing her something she’d never have. It was then the anger began to bubble. To boil-over. Why did Sean do this to her? Why would he make her see something this impossible?

There was resentment in her eyes.

Her mind was struggling. Struggling to understand everything. It knew this wasn’t real, but the longer she stayed in the moment. The longer she spent sitting there, the quieter that part of her brain became. The harder it became to differentiate. A knock at the door. A shattering of the silence. Another moment in time, another thing to understand.

“I’ve got one of my arms elbow deep in a chicken’s ass in here, the doors open! Come in!” Alex yelled out from the kitchen. The front door opened a few seconds later, not far from them. Her back was to the door, but she broke her eyes away from Sean just for a moment. To see who it was. Her heart broke at that moment.

Leather jacket, skinny jeans, an incredibly out of style black deep cut v-neck, long unwieldy mane of dark brown hair, and the same eyes. The Pasilno eyes. The soul-piercing, water freezing and thousand yard stare of the Pasilno family. She’d buried her brother. She’d seen him slowly fade away into death. Yet here, here in this perfect place. In this world where she had a baby. Baby Violet, with a warm, alive and happy Alex. In this already perfect world, her brother. Her brother had never fucking died.

She was rooted to the spot, but that didn’t matter. The person wearing her brother’s face beamed a flashy smile at her. His eyes met with Sean’s for a moment. An extended smile, as he strolled over. Long gangly steps from the 6’8” man. He placed a kiss to the top of Luna’s head, gave a gentle caress of the cheek to the baby, and nodded at Sean. In this world, everything was perfect. In this world… she was happy, and life hadn’t fucked them over. Life hadn’t stolen their family from them. Life hadn’t dangled baby Violet in their face, and it hadn’t ripped her best friend away.

She looked at Sean once more, and shook her head slowly. The tears were still hanging in her eyes. She was broken. Despite all the happiness and peace, in that moment. She was broken.

“I want to go home now.” Luna mumbled. She looked down at the baby in her arms. Felt her brother’s hand on her shoulder. The gentle squeeze. His strong hands. His comforting hands. She looked at Sean and waited. Waited for them to go home.

“Veni domum.” Sean said.

It felt like only a second. Her head snapped back, tears hanging heavily on her face, her eyes wet. She looked away from the weird little device Sean had and sucked in a deep breath. She could still feel her brother’s hand on her shoulder. Feel the warmness of the kiss on the top of her head. The heaviness of the baby in her arms. Yet, she was sitting at some random bar in Turkey, with a half eaten chicken burger and an array of empty beer bottles and a hardly touched mimosa.

“Why the fuck would you do that to me?” Luna said shakily, her mind struggling to adjust to reality. Her mind was shaken. Her breathing heavy and her body hollow. What she had thought was going to be simple trickery, had done everything it could to taunt her. Taunt her with a world she would never fucking have.


“Might as well call me a psychic at this point. Day one, I said that this was going to be my year. Though it may have started off just a touch rocky, things are all coming up Luna. Ignoring the waste of space and enhancement filler that is Justin Smith, I am the hardest working bitch in all of Sin City. The first bombshell to reach double digits in matches for the year. After this week? I’ll be one step closer to Kayla Richards and that World Bombshell Title, and then. Nobody will be able to question Luna fucking Pasilno.”

“See, I’ve proven, week in and week out. That I am the bitch to watch. That I am the woman who is taking the reigns in Sin City Wrestling and showing everyone what it means to be a true fucking talent. First round it was Kat Jones, and we put her in her fucking place. Out to pasture like any other nobody hack who thinks they can stop me. This was right after ending little miss Marlowe’s goddamn career. Sending her to the glue factory and getting one last iota of use out of her nobody ass. Then, last week. The bad child Roux was put in front of me. The adopted nobody sibling of Courtney Pierce. The woman who was going to tell her story, except… oops. When it came to actually standing on her own two feet?”

“The bright lights were all she could see.”

“But it’s alright, you know? I get it. It’s hard to step up to people who have more experience. She wasn’t confident, she didn’t think this was going to take her places. This was just to shun the naysayers. To quiet those who wiggle and worm their way to the top to keep pretty little kiddies like her and me down here in the mucky muck. The most unfortunate thing for little Roux, was that she had to carry big old Billy boy. Except… Billy boy wasn’t the loser. That’s got to do wonders for her confidence. The late blooming lady, and her rising star partner put the boots to the ungrateful little bitch and the nostalgic bulldog. Which brings us here.”

“To sweet little Artie, and the woman with the ability to actually carry a nobody to the apex, Kallie Reznik. Unfortunately for Artie and Kallie, there weren't any good or safe options for them this week. If it wasn’t Sean and I, it was going to be Calaway and my sweet dear husband, Alexander Raven. Hell, I might not like them, but… Cross and Eiley? They’d have eaten you and Artie alive little miss Reznik. And as much as Artie wants to prove he can stand on his own two feet. As much as Artie wants to take the power of what this opportunity can give him. To be the next J2H of Sin City Wrestling, oh sweet baby angels. The dream ends here.”


“This journey of hope and discovery? Of being good enough in the eyes of your betters? It ends here. It ends with me. It ends with Sean. And I’ve got so many more things to say to you, dear Artie. But first. We need to pay attention to Kallie, don’t we? The other half of the Australian sweetheart, Aiden Reynolds. I actually think I quite like you, Kallie. You seem to be someone who gets tarred with the brush of association. Just like me. People hating on the woman who just wants to prove she can tango with the salsa dancers. Connected in nothing but association of the associated with our world champions, Finn Whelan and Kayla Richards.”

“I feel for you, darling. I feel for you because I know what it feels like. I know how it feels to be considered less than simply because of who you throw your lot in with. Simply because of a short-coming here or there. Oh, lover, I do so understand. I’m Loopy Luna, Alexander Raven’s hanger-on. The transition queen. The bipolar Harley Quinn of Sin City Wrestling. Mind you we’ve got literal fucking nutbags like Juliana DiMaria walking around having weekly mental breaks, but, I’m the crazy one? I’m the crazy one for wanting to stand on my own. To be the one with the eyes on her. To be seen for what I am, and not brought down because of who I am with.”

“So, I see you, Miss Reznik. Oh darling, I know exactly what it is like to be you. Championships? Ignored for the sake of an argument. Victories? Forgotten in the face of a seemingly embarrassing defeat. Acknowledgement? Never, because that would invalidate their vanity, and girl. I am quite fucking familiar with vanity. The sweet vainglorious, masochistic and delusional Luna Pasilno. She’s just fucking full of herself, right? But there’s a world of difference in what you’re stepping into now, compared to what you’ve done.”

“Konrad Raab and Bea Barnhart? That was a shoe-in. Could’ve thrown Artie and a random member of the audience, and they’d have walked their asses from corner to post. Justin and Cordy? The only thing threatening about that was the shrill voice of Cordelia, and the loss of brain cells that come with Justin every time he opens his fucking mouth. Easy street is what you’ve had so far, Kallie. Some easy wins to boost your confidence back up. Now? Now you’ve got some real teeth to contend with. Now you’ve got a real bitch in the fight. Someone who can match you for speed, for athleticism. Someone who doesn’t mind getting a little rough and tumble and messing up a cute little lady’s fucking face.”

“So maybe you go and talk to Finn. Maybe you even go and talk to whoever is trying to get Artie in ship shape for this match. Maybe you get Aiden to show him how to get beaten up and beaten down. Learn a few things, and maybe. Just maybe, you’ll be able to help each other walk out of the ring. Sean may not be the same killer, but he’s a fighter regardless. The fairy tale ends with us. The real future winners of this whole damn shebang. And then you can look at what Kayla and I go on to do. You can look at what we do in order to make sure that the Bombshell Women’s Championship means something.”

“Presumptuous that it’ll be Kayla, I know. I think both of us are of the same opinion though, aren’t we, Kallie? Juliana had her time, and she got shown the fucking door. Fizzle and sizzle, and she’ll fall apart. Lord forbid she actually wrestle from time to time. Outworking and outpacing everyone, not dropping a single mixed tag match this year, being the one to win them over and over. And Juliana thinks she can talk her way through things. Not on our watch, right Kallie?”

“I guess it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what your stance on it is at all, because at the end of the day. When it comes down to you or me. When it comes down to Sean or Artie. The answer is the same every single time. Here are your winners and advancing to the finals of the Blast from the Past tournament, Luna Pasilno and Sean Parker. The only opinion in the end that counts? Mine.”

“Which is why I need to address our sweet little amateur. Our boy with big dreams, and a heart of gold. The wimpy little stick of a husband to the perpetual gag relief that is Bobbie Dahl. It’s sweet little Artie. The boy who thinks he can. The boy who is going to learn that he most definitely can fucking not. The boy who is going to step to the plate, get knocked for fucking six and hopefully? Never gets back in the ring. Learns his place, learns his ability. Learn from this unfortunate mistake and fluke? It was always going to end poorly. I might like Kallie, but you Artie?”

“I don’t fucking like you.”

“I don’t like you because you don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve to be here. You don’t deserve to pretend like you belong. You didn’t earn anything. You didn’t work, you haven’t done a single fucking thing except sit there and support someone better than you. Hypocrisy I know, but at least in this case its fucking true. If Bobbie couldn’t get there with fucking Peter Vaughn, what chance do you have? Take your whipping, your bumps and your bruises. Take it all, and fucking walk away. Don’t ever disrespect me, Sean or any other person who works themselves to the bone for this business.”

“I end another story this week. Oh, and remember this.”



“Luna… I’m sorry.” Sean had said as she gathered her things. She didn’t want to be there anymore, and she had stormed off.

They had gone on to win that week. Nobody the wiser. Tandem finishers again, another win chalked up to her. An undefeated tear for The Conspiracy. Both herself and Alex hadn’t lost a tag team match all year. But she didn’t want to be there. Not that night. She didn’t want to have to tag with someone who she thought could so callously try and upend her life. The worst part? She thought she was finally making a new friend. Someone who didn’t hate her for simply existing. For simply being who she was.

She’d taken the trek out to see Alex after that. They’d been inseparable since. Post match they had just left. Found out where they were bound for next, and just up and left. She couldn’t push the images from her mind. The happier husband, the living brother and beautiful child. These were all just constant images now. The worst part of it? She knew it wasn’t real. That it couldn’t be. That this was a manipulation to get to Alex. Sean had at least been honest enough to be straight out with the truth.

“Do you think, one day, things will be normal again?” Alex asked. His voice pulled her out of her fugue. Pulling her out of the haze in her head. They’d made a trip home. Stopped off at Adrienne’s to pick up their dog. Half a bottle of whiskey deep each, and a half full of ash tray. It seemed tonight they were both living in their heads. Alex had kept things rather close to his chest lately. She wasn’t entirely sure why, until that day with Sean.

She could understand it now.

“Define normal.” Luna said back with a snort, as she poured herself another shot, and one for Alex. He’d been nursing a mixer for a little while by the looks of it. The ice had all but completely melted. Seems they were both messes this week.

“Say, circa 2015?” Alex said, nodding to himself a little. He knocked back the last little bit of his drink, pouring the shot into the now empty glass. Another coke and whiskey mixer, no ice this time. Probably for the best.

“The year you got your head bashed in so much in a match they thought they were going to have to remove a chunk of your skull?” Luna asked quizzically in response.

“Simpler times, really. That Syco girl was an interesting one. Weird priorities, but I could get behind it. Her girlfriend though? Batshit.” Alex said, placing another coke and whiskey in front of Luna this time. At the very least, they were going to sleep well tonight, tomorrow morning and then be insufferably grumpy for the next couple days.

“I don’t think your definition of normal is what most people would say is normal.” Luna said softly, knocking back the shot she had poured for herself. A fresh cigarette was placed to her lips. The flash of a lighter and a quick lighting. A long, sharp and harsh drag. Blowing it out her nose in a waterfall of smoke.

“Maybe not, but life was a little bit simpler. World champion, seen as a leader, fall, become the True and the False. If anything, there was some real growth. I’d say less magic men, but realistically? We had those wannabe Vampires running about, Corey Bull and Salazar were a bit off-kilter at the best of times. It was a strange time.” Alex rambled on. He was avoiding being in his own mind. Some kind of internal conflict. She could see the worry in his face. The stress in his eyes. The strain in his voice.

“I don’t think I’d go that far back. Maybe just last year. No Sullivan in prison, you and Harrison still butting heads and not somehow weirdly getting along like you do now. Jimmy freshly opening this place. Maybe we’ll keep Adrienne, because she’s good value. I think that’s what I’d define as normal.” Luna said, lowering her head to rest on the bar top.

“You mean you don’t want to be hiding away in Australia helping us run Raven’s? You’d get to meet little Adrienne all over again. I think that could be fun. Though, if I had it my way? I wouldn’t have sold the original bar. I would’ve stuck it out. Normal.” Alex said, and then his phone buzzed. He didn’t instantly recognise the number, but Luna did. She glowered. Why was phone number permanency a thing for her?

“Don’t answer that. It’s Sean.” Luna said, taking a long sip of her drink, and then another long and harsh drag of her cigarette. Alex cocked an eyebrow in response, and let it go to voicemail. They sat there for a moment, before it stopped ringing. The voicemail message coming through. She rolled her eyes as he unlocked it and pressed play.

“Hey, Raven…um it’s Sean, Sean Parker. Look, I know we haven’t talked a lot. Hell, I think the last time we were in the same room, you were trying to cleave my head in two in Cambodia… anyway… look, I really need to talk to you, it’s about Vita Mors… call me back, please.” The message played out. Alex and Luna simply looked at each other.

“You know, it’s funny. I remember going to see him. I remember being in his office. I remember how much he looked like James. But I don’t remember much else. Next thing I knew, I was just standing there. Standing in that ring. Taking Jamie Dean apart. Then we were in Vimy Ridge.” Alex said, lighting his own cigarette. He looked off into the empty bar, his mind working things over. She knew it wasn’t the full story, but he also wasn’t lying. That might be why he was in such a state. His mind was hiding things from him.

“Sean showed me this thing. I don’t know what it was. But it felt so real, you know? I saw us in that house. Like we used to talk about. Jimmy was still alive. Fuck, I can still feel his hand on my shoulder, you know? I could smell my brother again, for just a moment. But now it’s all I can think of. And…” Luna began to trail off.

“And there was a baby.” Alex said, like something clicked in his head. Puzzle pieces falling into place.

“How did you know that?” Luna asked. Alex looked at her, and shook his head a little.

“I put on his mask. I saw everything.”

And then…

It was kind of strange to think about. Luna and Sean had crossed paths a few times in the past. The TRIAD draft party, the finals of the Strength Tribulations. She was certain it had likely happened more than she even knew. But those were two she could remember. So colour her surprised when she didn’t somehow get screwed over with her pairing. Or at least, she assumed she hadn’t.

Part of her was expecting the Bill Barnharts of the world to be stuck with her, and as much as she loved the Barnharts… well. There’s some cruelty in this world best not thought of. Alex had somehow got stuck with Calaway again, and after she’d spent half the night cackling at the thought, she did feel somewhat sympathetic for him. As much as she disdains the woman, Alexander himself may have been quieter on it.

But boy was that woman not a pleasant thought in their household.

Duchess, their gorgeous short-legged Beagle, had decided today was a naughty day, and was making it an absolute agony for Luna to get herself put together. Her hair was half-brushed, and still slightly too wet to do anything nice with. She’d put on her primer and some foundation, but looked more like a ghost than a human being right now. Wrapped up in a dressing gown, and a cigarette hanging from her mouth she was about ready to give up on the phone call.

Alex was out on a walk. Why hadn't he taken the dog on the walk? Nobody could answer such questions. Clearly not the man who had decided to walk himself every day lately without the dog. But that meant that whilst she was trying to put her life together for the day, she had to deal with a decidedly naughty little hound. Did that mean she had lost track of time? Potentially.

But that would not stop her from attempting to get her life together, because if there was anything that Luna Pasilno was good at? It definitely wasn’t being a functional human being.

“What are you eating? Drop it! Drop it!” Luna started yelling as Duchess took off through the apartment, chewing away on something that she definitely was not meant to be eating. Chasing the animal through the apartment, she finally noticed the time. When had 10AM rolled around?

With her fingers halfway down the dog’s throat, attempting to pry whatever bit of food it had managed to find from her slobbering and excited jowls. She loved Duchess, but sometimes she really wished they hadn’t picked a fucking Hound.

So to say she was just the slightest bit spooked when her phone began to ring? That was an understatement. Successfully prying what was left of a lolly snake from the dog’s jaws, she went to pull her phone from her gown pocket. The dog took this as a moment of freedom, careening into Luna’s legs and sending her tumbling, and in the process? She accidentally answered that phone call.

Thankfully, assuming Sean wasn’t a foot guy, the only thing that would be visible on the call right now would be one of her feet as she had landed smack on her ass in the middle of the apartment. What she had not taken into account was now that she had to somehow have this conversation, after answering it with her feet being in view, and the sound of her going ass over tit.

“So, I didn’t realise the time. And… Do you have dogs, angel? We have this one crazy little demon. Duchess, named after Alex’s fuckin’ childhood farm creature. Anyway, we do not have an apartment big enough for this beastie, and she decided that this morning was THE day to run roughshod over us. So, if you do not mind a smidge, I’m going to need an extra… twenty minutes to put my life together. That fine with you, sugar? I can’t hear you, so I’m going to assume yes. Thank you! ” Luna started word vomiting, as she sprawled towards her phone. For emphasis she managed to hit the hang-up button with her toe.

Rolling over and pushing herself onto her feet, she grumbled. Duchess had decided that she was now all tuckered out and was going to lay down on the couch for an early morning nap.

“You naughty little bitch.” Luna said with a heavy sigh. Admitting defeat in this moment, she waddled her way back into the bedroom. Make-up being applied, hair dryer on and drying her hair. Nineteen minutes later, she was actually put together. The sniffling at her feet alerted her to the fact that Duchess had not continued her nap and was now wanting attention. Despite her earlier attempts to kill Luna.

Phone out, cigarette hanging from her lip again. Dressing gown off, simple white crop on, leather jacket over the top. Skinny black jeans, and she was a star in the making once again. Not the disheveled woman who previously answered the phone with only her foot.

“Come on sweetheart. We need to talk to the boy with the funny accent.” Luna cooed to the dog, playing with her ears and ruffling the fur on her head. Striding through the apartment, she stepped out onto the balcony. Twenty one minutes after the initial call, and she felt ready to be human once more.

Cigarette lit, a quick selfie camera check, and she was ready to go. Facetime may be one of the worst things ever invented. She was not a fan. Alas, the forsaking that one must make. She unlocked, hit the call history and held the phone out. Duchess clambering up into her lap. The goofy beagle, and the surprisingly put-together, sharp-featured lady. The call was answered, and there they were. Face-to-face once again for the first time in nearly seven months. Surely it couldn’t through a screen.

“Okay, once again. Apologies for earlier. This little creature is a menace until she’s had a morning lay down, and now she’s all better. But that’s enough about enough, lover. You’ve seen my dainty little piggies, so the least you can do is tell me a bit about yourself, Mr Brand New Daddio.”

Sean just looked mildly amused, as if he were still trying to get used to Luna’s nuances and personality. He waved a hand in a dismissive manner.

“It’s all good, Luna, it’s all good. I do find it slightly amusing though that you can go from German suplexing someone through a flaming table to getting bowled over by a beagle.”

Sean chuckled to himself. Luna smiled in response, ruffling the ears of the dopey little creature that was resting in her lap. A stark contrast to the violent woman Sean had noted.

 “Well, sometimes little baby angels like this one are the biggest trials and tribulations. People are easy, little doggies like this one? Now that’s hard, sugar. Alex wanted a cat, I wanted a dog. We compromised, and got a dog, and now she punishes me for my choices. She loves him, and mostly wants me to have an unfortunate accident. Don’t you sweet girl?” Luna spoke softly, the longer she drawled on, the more her accent reverted to home. Less of the world, and more of the south.

 “Well, I can’t speak for pets, although I am more of a dog guy myself. I do have a baby girl here though. She’s only a week old but she’s already proving to be quite the handful. If this is what she’s like in days I can only imagine what it’s going to be when she’s at school…”

Into view of the camera, was the image of a little baby girl. It was hard to see in a FaceTime conversation and Sean had clearly managed to do what most parents seem to and master the art of juggling two things at once. The baby’s face was smooshed up, buried into Sean’s neck as he leaned his cheek into hers.

“...but I’ll worry about that later.”

Luna swooned at the sight of the baby. The dog was a surrogate for a baby in her life. She’d never felt all that maternal, but there was something about the sight of children that warmed her inside. Though she’d never really want to put another Pasilno into this world.

“Animals fill that void. Raven got the snip many moons ago, and we can’t… we don’t want kids really. But I do love the smell of little ones.” Luna said softly, seemingly catching herself at one point.

She took a long drag on her cigarette, and exhaled a heavy cloud of smoke. Something in her eyes spoke differently than what her words did. Her heart didn’t seem to entirely match up with her words.

“But enough about things that can’t use the toilet right, and smell like corn chips. We got some working to do, don’t we, sugar? So I’m thinking, we should go on a little friend date, climb some castles and see how we mesh as people.” Luna said as Duchess decided she was done being on show and took off somewhere. Luna watched her for a moment, before bringing her attention back to the call. Moreso on the little one, than Sean. The next noise that was heard wasn’t the strange Scottish-American hybrid accent she’d heard before. It was softer, gargled. It dawned on Luna that the baby had started crying.

“Sshhh, it’s okay darling, you’re alright! Yes, you are! Daddy’s right here…uh-oh, I think we have a code brown situation! Did you go fill your nappy? Did you?”

Sean looked off-camera. It was times like this, that she was actively reminded as to why there was some peace in the world in not having the little stink machines.

“Babe! Can you take Amelia for a moment! She needs a clean nappy and I’m on the phone!”

Moments later and a whirl of sky blue hair came into view on screen. Her face couldn’t quite be made out fully but Luna took an educated guess this was Mrs Parker as Sean gently off-handed the little one to mum.

“Thanks, babe, I appreciate it. Bye-bye darling! Daddy will come give you loads of tummy kisses after he’s done speaking to his new friend!”

He turned back to the phone screen.

“Sorry about that… Meet-up? Yeah, I think that’s a great idea, actually. I’ve seen your ring-work, it speaks for itself but from my experience, two people who are great in the ring but don’t mesh as partners tend not to do so well. To be fair, Alex and I probably should get along better than we actually do but I know he’s a decent guy so if he trusts and loves you… I’m more than willing to make the effort to trust you as well. I have some promotional work SCW have requested I carry out, part of my one-off contract for the Blast From The Past in Hastings before the show. Y’know, Promote Climax Control! You’re from the UK! Hype it up, cut a promo! Perhaps we can have a little catch-up, see the sights?”

“Get your lawyers to double check the contracts. Mark and Christian are sneaky, heartless fuckers.” Luna said sternly. If there was anything that was consistent in the Rabenschwarz-Pasilno household, it was a fear of authority and an assumption that their bosses were out to get them.

“Lexi-baby is… Lexi-baby. A heart hurt by the sharpness of life. He’s just protective of himself. Protective of those he loves, too. And we’re all just a little bit sideways of normal on this side of the broken fence, baby. But we always have each other. Loyalty runs deep in our kingdom.” Luna continued on. The comfort settled in a little; and with it a bit of the mask slipping. The delusional kids of The Conspiracy.

And then…

There was a loud crash from inside the apartment, and the tell-tale sound of skittering feet. Luna stood up quickly, and shook her head.

“I have to go see what destruction is being caused before I end up like a screaming baby too. I’ll message you for details on the meet-up later. Unless the dog kills me. In which case. Lovely talking to you, lover.” Luna said quickly, and without even giving it a moment to settle, had hung up and taken off.

There was a surprising amount of rubbish on the floor, and a bin that should definitely not be on its side.

It was going to be a long fucking day.


“My first year here, there were ups and downs. Rocky starts, rocky finishes. Transitional title reigns, and a less than stellar ride. But in that year I did something that almost no other woman in this company can say they even came close to. I beat Crystal for the Roulette Championship, and gave Jessie the two best matches of the entirety of her time around that division. I took the Queen of Hardcore, Alexandra Calaway and showed that she couldn’t even come close to the dance when I’m across from her.”

“I stood as the Queen of Vanity, the Queen of The Conspiracy and in that? I found myself. I found The Masochist, I found The Idol, Luna Pasilno. Shedding ideas, gimmicks and pretence. Shedding that to find myself standing tall. To find myself being the person I can be happy with. I said that this was going to be the year that I prove that I can hang. That I prove, I’m not just another pretty face. I prove that I’m more than the side piece of Alexander Raven. This? This is the year of Luna fucking Pasilno, The Idol of Sin City Wrestling. And to put my mark on it? I reminded everyone just who the fuck I am at Blaze of Glory. I broke a goddamn kendo stick over Sam Marlowe. I put that mouthy little bitch who’s crocodile mouth was writing checks her candy ass couldn’t cash, straight through a table.”

“The Conspiracy, Alexander Raven and Luna Pasilno, we aren’t here to fuck around. Oh no, sweet baby angels. We are not here to be the pretty faces and the delusional kicking blocks. We are here to show that we mean fucking business. If we’re going to be stuck here at the whims and wishes of the surrogate daddies, Mark and Christian. Then we’re going to take everything they love and break it. We’re going to throw that tantrum and spit the dummy. All the toys out, and all the kids made to cry. But right now? The Blast from the Past tournament.”

“The tournament that exists to strap a rocket to the backside of the next big names. A man and woman who, at the end of it all are guaranteed an opportunity at the World Championships of both divisions. Poetically, it would have been perfect if The Conspiracy got to do this journey together. A journey to the paired crowns. Winner takes all, would’ve been an apt end to what would have been a storybook journey. Unfortunately, the powers that be continue to pretend that they are benevolent and forgiving. That this is a case of random luck and random chance.”

“There’s no random luck in the fact that they paired Alex up with the bitch who cost him everything last year. The bitch that was the fucking unlucky thirteen for my dear husband’s twenty twenty three. There’s no random luck in that Alex is getting screwed once again. But in a shimmering beam of light. It seems that the surrogate fathers have seen the error in their ways. Punishing their perfect little baby girl, Luna Pasilno. That was a bad idea. Trying to hurt their ideal was a terrible move. Trying to hurt me? I ain’t going to burn down in fucking ash and timber.”

“So they’ve given me what I believe is the golden opportunity. Not the golden opportunity. But an opportunity regardless. Sean Parker and Luna Pasilno. The oddball couple destined to take the whole damn thing and show the world. See, I’m actually somewhat familiar with Sean’s work. Something we preach and follow in The Conspiracy is having our fucking eyes open to the world. No blinders, no ignoring what happens outside these doors. Sean is a multi time champion. He was the guaranteed draft pick in the Wit Trials of TRIAD. A series that includes some of the best in the fucking world to do it.”

“A man who went toe to toe with Matt Knox, Peter Vaughn and hell even Alexander Raven. One of few men who can claim victory over the reigning and defending monarchs of Sin City Wrestling. Sean is one of them. So with Sean at my side? I’d say that Kayla Richards only needs worry about one woman coming for not just the Bombshell Women’s World Championship, but also that lofty Mixed Tag Team belt. And though I have immense love in my heart and soul, and think the only marquee match that Sin City truly needs is the rematch of Alexander Raven and Finn Whelan, I’ll settle for Sean Parker. Every kingdom needs to be undone from the base to make it collapse. And so, if Sean needs to take the place for the interim. Then so be it.”

“But this before us? This is even deeper than that for me. Hello Kat, it’s so nice to see you back again. I do apologise for pulling the plug on our last head to head. Broken ribs are a bitch to push through, I’m sure you understand. And, admittedly. There was just a little bit of egg on my face for losing the Bombshell Internet Championship to one, Ariana Angelos, right after I’d made a mockery of every other woman on that journey. In fact, you were one of those women too, weren’t you? Yes, my precious little typewriter.”

“I took extra special notice of you in the past, Kat. The woman riding the laurels of old achievements. Dancing and prancing your way forward, riding high on the coattails of your infinitely more successful brother. A woman who is all buddy buddy with the surrogate fathers of Sin City. A woman who stands there and fawns for the adulation of a people that no longer fucking care. Ah, dear sweet Kat. Six months after you failed to win the championship that I did win. Let's say five months? Five months since I had to delay our next foray due to unforeseen medical issues. Five months and you’ve done absolutely fuck all since. Miss Manners? A fucking warm-up match and you know it.”

“There was a golden opportunity for you to stay the fuck home. There was a golden opportunity for you to take your ball and leave, and stay out of the ring. There were all the chances in the world, but some part of you. Some part of your brain demands that you come back. Waltz in and out. Leave when things get too hard, and come back when you think the playing field has devolved to your standard once again. Paired up with another hack-eye from the past in Teddy Warren. A family I’m unfortunately familiar with. A funny little one called Dawn Warren being my debut match here, in fact. You baffle me, Kat. You baffle me in ways that I cannot eloquently explain. So eloquence is not that journey here, sweet angel. No, eloquence just isn’t my fucking thing. ‘Cause this dainty little southern, she’s shown that she can fucking fight. Be it barbwire wrapped bodies, flaming fucking tables or if I get my way, chairs and brass to the skull of every mouthy bitch that decides to stick her nose into my business.”

“Kat, I want you to listen closely. I want you to understand what I’m saying. I need you to pay attention to what is going on. You are a throwaway in a tournament filled with fucking heaters. You a throwaway in a tournament where for the first time in years there is a chance for an actual challenger to the fucking crowns. You are one half, and unfortunately, the better half, of a warm up team. A team filled with a nobody and a never was. Which are you? I wonder, I wonder. Which shoe fits a little bit better for the perpetual failure that is the project of Kat Jones?”

“But this isn’t all about us, no, no. No this is more than our little tête-à-tête. I haven’t forgotten about sweet little Teddy Warren. No, no, Teddy. Teddy come to mama darling, I have many things to talk to you about. How nice it is to see you again. The man who has to overcome so much to be here. Another member of the Warren family who has done absolutely fuck all to make their name mean a single fucking thing in this business. A former Roulette Champion and…. Well that’s about it, isn’t it, Teddy? Oh, poor sweet Tedward. I know how hard it must be for you. To come back and think that things are going to be any different for you. The Blast from the Past tournament, thinking you might get paired up with the likes of a Kallie Reznik or maybe even myself. Betting all your fucking chips on a big partner, and you end up with another wannabe nothing failure in Kat Jones.”

“Oh sweet angel, I do feel for you. Not only do you have possibly the worst partner in all of the tournament. Hell, I think even Bea Barnhart would’ve given you more chances than little ol’ Kat Jones. But then you draw, for my own money, and not to toot my own horn. I am humble after all. You draw the favourites. You draw the team that everyone has their eyes on because there is no doubt. There is no question. There is no other answer. The winners of the Blast from the Past tournament. You’re fucking looking at ‘em. Luna Pasilno and Sean Parker.”

“So, Teddy. I hope you signed for some good money. Though, maybe being able to pay this month’s rent was enough of a lure for you. Because this is a one and done for you both. A one and done and then you and Kat Jones. You can pack your bags and get back in the seats where you belong. Watching the rest of us go to fucking work. Watching those of us who can fucking fight.”



William the Conqueror, the invading Normans. The fall and failure of King Harold II, and all that was left of that iconic event in history, were these crumbling ruins. These privately owned, crumbling ruins. These ruins that looked like steps. These ruins that looked like they were begging to be climbed. There was a twinge of sadness. Being here and not being here with Alex. The King and Queen of The Conspiracy. There was a picture perfect example of that of which Alex had talked about for years here. The crumbling and decaying castles of the invisible hands that control them.

Or something like that.

The twinge of sadness was quickly overruled by the arrival of this innate desire. An innate desire to climb. An urge to cause chaos. To put the Sin City legal team to work, seeing as they had done their damndest to ensure Alex and Luna didn’t get a break. So here Luna was, looking over the green hills of the iconic sight. Her eyes fixated on a low wall, that led to a slightly higher wall, that led to the top of a doorway, and in turn the top of a crumbling battlement.

Sean was off doing his TV duties. Filming for whatever it was he was filming for. She was certain he had told her, but truth be told. She was mostly distracted by the baby. Both of the babies. The dog and the actual child. But she could see them some distance away. Filming on the battlefield itself. Which meant that all the attention was focused elsewhere. Which meant that Luna could become the conquering Queen of the ruins.

It was but a flash of movement. She ran up unto the low wall. Running the full length of it, as nearby tourists cast sideways glances. One person looked ready to say something, but decided against it after getting a proper look at Luna. Her athleticism was going to pay dividends. She leapt up onto the next wall, clearing a larger than it looked gap. Ignoring the crumbling of stones, she crawled her way up along the wall and on top of the doorway section. Staff taking note of her now.

“Excuse me miss! You can’t be up there. You need to get down!” One of them shouted, a few people now stopping to gawk and stare.

“Sorry, I don’t speak United Kingdomnian. Only American.” Luna mocked as she scrambled further up. If they wanted her down, they’d have to get her down themselves. Which from the looks of it, was unlikely to happen. What was the worst that could happen?

Springing further up, she climbed to the top of the wall, and sat on the L bend. Stones skittering and falling. The staff were conversing between themselves trying to work out what they could do to get her off the ruins without a big how-to-do. Luna, being pretty chuffed with herself, simply swung her legs and stared out into the distance. ‘Get a snap for Alex.’ she thought to herself quietly, taking her phone out.

A quick selfie, shot off to him. It seemed like Sean had finished up his obligations too as he was walking toward her.

With the camera crew.

Who were still recording.

She thought about quickly climbing down. Getting off the cameras as she wildly disrespected these protected ruins. But then decided against it as it would be a great little thing for the cameras to catch. What were Mark and Christian going to do about it? Fire her? They had yet to find a punishment that was actually going to work.

Luna! Fuck sake!” Sean shouted out at her. She simply smiled down at him, as he waved off the camera crew.

“Hi Sean, baby. Nice to see you again!” Luna shouted down, standing up slowly. Looking down she squared herself up, and took aim.

“Catch me.” Luna said and took a step forward. And then she was sailing down off the ruins and straight towards Sean. It was at this moment, she really thought some extra warning probably would have protected her. Too late for that now.

And then…

It had been fun having Adrienne around. Though it did a good job of dragging up old memories. It did a tremendous job of making her feel a little younger, a little more alive and a little happier too. But it reminded Luna of some terrible times and places in her life too. Addiction had been their lives, and though they had saved their sweet little Marigold from an abusive and overbearing partner. That had not saved Luna from the depths of her addictions.

So when she stumbled across that little bag of powder in their bathroom, it all came flooding back. Luna was vaguely impressed at the speed in which Adrienne had managed to find people pedalling stuff, but it also was a stark reminder of why she had distanced herself from the girl. It hadn’t been a pleasant conversation. Adrienne wasn’t much younger, but in behaviour and maturity. She was still a young party girl who didn’t understand the wrong she had committed.

She’d been asked to leave. Alex had to play the bad guy once again. Luna wasn’t in a state to be around her. She wasn’t in a state where that monkey called addiction wasn’t threatening to break her. She didn’t want to give up almost three years of sobriety for nothing. So Alex had asked Adrienne to leave. He’d given her the key to James’ bar and home, and had had a long talk with her. There were apology texts, and attempted phone calls. Maybe the verbal berating had gotten through to Adrienne.

Luna was a numb mess.

They were holed up on the couch for the night. Alex nestled in a pillow puddle in the deep corner of the L bend on the couch. Luna lay curled up on the short end, head in his lap, watching some mindless documentary that Alex had put on. They’d been better since that night. Since Adrienne had told her to go home. She suspected with Adrienne out of the house, they’d be better again. But there was still a need to talk about what happened. More than their car discussion allowed for.

But was tonight that night? No, not really. Tonight was to be… human for once. To not be the nasty and bitchy individuals that everyone seemed to see them as. To just be human for a minute. Not The Idol and The Napalm Kingslayer. To just be Luna and Alex, husband and wife, watching a crappy documentary, petting their obnoxiously cuddly beagle called ‘Duchess’.

“This show sucks.” Alex grunted, as he wiggled himself up a little. Reaching over her to grab the remote that was near her feet. She stuck her foot out in place of it, and made him grab a handful of her feet. The recoil in absolute horror that followed made it all worth it in that moment.

“I get to pick now.” He tickled the bottom of her foot briefly, making her body kick out. Sitting up as she did, lightly smacking him on the arm. The smile, the laugh, the flash of joy in his eyes. He leaned forward, and placed a kiss on her. A short, sweet and simple kiss. The kind that reminded her that even as she lay there, no make-up, messy haired and comfy clothes, she was the most gorgeous person in his world.

“I love you, idiot.” Luna said as she sat up a little. The dog takes this as a perfect time to crawl from being wedged into them, to being on Alex’s lap. Luna fake gasped, and Alex smiled, ruffling Duchess’s ears. She grabbed the remote, and sat upright, Alex’s arm draping over her shoulders.

She rested her head on his chest as she began to scroll, absent-mindedly scratching at the dog’s head. But in the moment of peace, there were flashes of that monkey on her shoulders. Had Adrienne remembered to take the bag from the bathroom? Had she remembered to clear out the drugs when she’d been asked to leave. What if the messages were her begging Luna not to go and check.

“I changed my mind, you pick. I need to pee.” Luna said, getting to her feet. Every part of her was screaming to tell Alex to go check the bathroom for her. The rational part of her mind begging her to not fall into the trap. To be free. To stay clean. But all the stress lately, the valium and the xanax prescriptions. The image of Alex with the gun pointed and held at Sullivan’s head. Her own screams echoing in her mind, as she played the thought over and over.

On the surface, a calm queen. Underneath, a struggling junkie who was looking for a fix. Alex eyed her with suspicion as he handed him the remote. The dog not moving, not deigning the need to follow her. Each step felt heavy, each step felt heavier than the last. What would she do if the ketamine was still there? Would she try and pretend that she was sober as she floated away into a world of happiness? Would she tip it down the drain and pat herself on the back? It wouldn’t even matter if Adrienne had remembered to…

It was gone. There was no little plastic bag on the bench. There were no lines, or glass. No cards and no notes rolled up. She smiled, but leaned against the doorway. Her mind racing. All these years later, and she was still a slave to it. Still a slave to the idea of floating away. There were no excuses that justified it, and yet. She just wanted to not feel like this for a minute. To not feel like the world hated her. To not be the bitch that everyone seemed to think she was.

She could feel the tears welling in her eyes. The anger, the frustration. The hatred for the world that continued to shun them, and made them out to be the bad guys. To be the bad guys for just trying to cope, to live. To move forward day to day. Every person needs to involve themselves. Every person having an opinion on who the fuck she was. Every which way she turned, there was just another person pushing her.

Krystal, Samantha, Mark, Christian, Ariana and hell, now even Harper. Everyone had an opinion on the actions they made, to keep themselves above water. To keep themselves from sinking, from just wanting to float. From just wanting to be alive, and to suffer in their own grief quietly. To suffer and bleed. To hurt in freedom. To mourn her fucking brother in peace.

An addict would run to the peace of their addiction. An addict had to fight every day just to be free of that monkey that sat on their shoulders. An addict had to be okay, and had to pretend that the world wasn’t forever attempting to push them down. To crush them under the heel of oppressive hate. She just wanted to be normal, just for a minute.

“Nothing fun to see in there, piss-pot.” Alex had somehow managed to come up behind her. Silent as a mouse. She jumped a little, but instantly relaxed as his arms slipped around her waist. Pulled her from the doorframe and onto him. Waddling them away from the bathroom. No judgement. There was never any judgement from him. How could there be? They were both addicts, just to different things. Cigarettes, alcohol, coffee. It just happened that her vice was downers, and his was… what was his addiction?

“I’ll be better one day, won’t I?” Luna asked, twisting around to face him. Arms up and wrapped around his neck, holding tightly to him. He tilted his head to rest against hers as she placed her chin on his shoulder, standing on the tips of her toes.

“You’re better today than you were yesterday, and you’re far better today than you were three years ago. We may never be fixed, Lu. But we’re better today than we were any other day.” Alex said gently, waddling them back to the couch slowly. Back into their little bubble of peace. The young couple, with their dog, watching shitty documentaries on Netflix. A bottle of wine, an ashtray with far too many cigarettes. Just them, being… normal.

“One day, you’ll be free, Lu. One day, we’ll all be free.” Alex said as he planted them back on the couch. She sat straddling his lap, much to the dismay of Duchess who tried valiantly to squeeze her way between the two of them. Nestling her body in between them. A hint of happiness.

“Tell me a story, Alex.” Luna asked, more a demand than a question. A soft demand. A gentle request. His arms tightened around her for a moment, feeling the warmth of Duchess pressed tightly against the both of them.

“There was once a boy named James.” Alex said softly.


“Dear Samantha, how beautiful it is that we are here again. I’d like to take a moment to talk to you. Dear Samantha, how wonderful it is to have you before me again, do you think we have a moment to talk? Hey Samantha, Luna again. I was just wondering if you’d take a moment to talk? Hey fuckface, it’s Luna. We’ve got some words to let loose, don’t we?”

“Dear Samantha, how’s the noggin’? Must be hurting after brass meets head. Hey Samantha, I’ve been thinking. What gave you the right to stick your nose into my business? Dear moron, I’ve got some ideas. Ideas on how we can save your career. Hey dickhead, it’s me again. Just wondering if you’ve got any idea of what you’ve started?”

Luna is sitting at a writing desk, her hair hanging loose around her neck and shoulders. Paper and pens are sprawled out all over the desk. Samantha’s name scrawled in different coloured inks in various erratic scratchings and sizings across the papers. The pen in her hand gripped tightly.

“I understand the resentment Samantha. There seems to be this theme. You come into my life, you lose, and I win. That’s the way it goes right? You come into my life, I win the Internet Championship, you don’t. I punch you in the back of the head, cost you a match, and then I go on to win later that night. Even with your attempts to break my face, and hurt my arm. Even with your attempts to batter my pretty little head, I went on to win my match. Funny how things like this seem to happen, over and over.”

“It’s funny to me, Samantha. That here you are again in my purview. An afterthought the first time, and again an afterthought now. Funny how you had to stick your fucking nose into my affairs. Did Ben go running to you, begging you to watch his back? No, I doubt he truly thought it was necessary. No, I think, you Samantha. Are a perpetual nobody. What was it you said? That you deserve to be here. That my ‘crocodile mouth  was writing cheques my canary rear end will have trouble cashing’. You learnt exactly what I was fucking capable of last time we banged heads Samantha. You learnt that in a pool of women your better, you came up short, and I stood as the victor. As much as women like Krystal Wolfe might want to try and take that away.”

“History says that Luna Pasilno is the superior woman. History says that Luna Pasilno is the lady to watch. History says that Luna Pasilno is the woman who will punch your fucking lights out, and you can’t even do enough to slow her down. How long has it been since you were fucking relevant? Three years? Four years? Seems like you fall into the same mouthy camp as the ratty Barossa Valley slag, Krystal Wolfe. Seems to me that you’re the one with a crocodile mouth, writing cheques that your canary rear end will have trouble cashing.”

Luna pushes a few of the pieces of paper aside. A chequebook hidden beneath the pile. She opens it, the first cheque stating it is payable to SAMANTHA MARLOWE, for ‘Medical Costs incurred for being a dumb fucking bitch.’

“So I wonder, Samantha. What possesses you to think that you deserve to be here? I’m just wondering because I haven’t seen anything to make me think you are worth a dime. I haven’t seen a word from you worth listening to. I haven’t seen a step from you that makes me think you could go toe to toe with The Troll, let alone anyone else in this current roster of Bombshells. I’d hazard that you, just like Ben, are finding this renewed fire as a result of us. The Conspiracy sets our sights on you two, and suddenly you’re full of bravado, vim and vigour. Suddenly you think that you’re worthy of the spotlight that you are so wholeheartedly hogging.”

“But no, Samantha. Just like Ben, you are not worthy of the spotlight hogging that you are getting. This wasn’t a journey into proving that you were worthwhile. This wasn’t a journey to shine light on those who are missing a step. This was to prove that you didn’t deserve the opportunities thrown your way. So I want you to remember the feeling of brass against bone. I want you to remember what steel against skin feels like. I want you to remember what it felt like to come up short against Luna Pasilno, because you’re going to have to get real familiar with that feeling.”

“But that’s not what this week is about. No, this week, Samantha. This is your week. The week for you to show the world that you’re a half-step better than Luna Pasilno. That you can out-wrestle and out-think her. That the pretty little face is nothing more than an empty headed bimbo hanging on to the better of her sweet dear husband. Isn’t that right? It seems to be what everyone else thinks of me. That I’m just coming along for the ride on the wings of the better. Except for when it means to say that Alex is the better. In which case he's nothing and deserves nothing, a failure. But only when it suits them. When it doesn’t, he’s a multi-time champion, a man to be feared. Because then Luna Pasilno is just his little hanger-on. Or as Samantha so eloquently put it ‘Raven’s sick little whatever she is’.”

She slams the pen down into the cheque book. Somehow managing to pierce straight through the entirety of it with one downward force. That iconic banshee scream rips from her throat, as she lifts and slams the penchequebook combination over and over onto the writing desk. The sheets of paper scrawled with Samantha’s name being thrown all over the place and knocked to the floor.

“I’m a fucking person, you dumb fucking bitch. Is that something that everyone seems to just magically forget? That beneath it all, I’m also my own fucking person. I’m a human being with a beating heart, and emotions. Fears, aspirations and everything in between. Clearly I’m not somebody to you, Samantha. I’m just ‘Raven’s sick little whatever she is.’ Just like I’m just Raven’s ‘hanger-on’ according to Krystal Wolfe. Sidekick, dropkick, whatever. It doesn’t matter as long as your attempts to dehumanise me work, right?”

“Doesn’t matter what you say about someone if they aren’t even a person in your fucking eyes. You want to know why I put my hands on Ben? So people would stop pretending that I am nothing. The only two people that ever saw me as more than just a piece of meat, a hanger-on, a bitch who needed protecting. The only two people were my fucking brother, and my husband. And I can’t hear my brother tell me that I matter anymore. I can’t ask my brother to remind me that I exist. No, I have to do it for myself now, and the more I try, the more people pretend like I don’t matter.”

“I’m in your sights now, right Samantha? I waved that red flag and made you come charging like a dog in heat. And now, you’re stuck with me. And I’m going to make sure you acknowledge me, Samantha. If it takes battering your pretty little brains all over the canvas, so be it. If it takes breaking the balls of your illegitimate partner, so be it. That’s the story, right? The married woman is having an illicit affair with her best friend. Oh, how juicy, Samantha.”

With one last slam, she leaves the penchequebook combination in the middle of the writing desk. She turns away from the table, running her hands up into her hair. The anger etched across her every feature. Fury bubbling behind her eyes. Hell hath no fury like Luna Pasilno slightly vexed. Pulling her hair back behind her with one hand, she extends the other out in front of her. A soothing calm washing over her face as her eyes lock upon the wedding band on her finger.

“Upsetting when people say things that aren’t really true, isn’t it? Upsetting when people make assumptions about you because that’s just how it seems to them. Upsetting that someone would go out of their way to take away your humanity. To take away your personality. To reduce you to nothing more than the cheating harlot. You have my sympathies, Samantha. You truly do. An afterthought you may be, but a woman and your own person, you still are.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing you again, dear Samantha. I’m looking forward to staring you right in the eye and telling you what I think of you. I’m looking forward to fighting you, Samantha. I’m looking forward to every step of the way, and you know why? Because then you can’t just think of me as the nothing that is only validated by the existence of someone else. I’m looking forward to making you see that Luna Pasilno is a human being. And that just like you, I bleed. That I cry. That I exist outside of the existence of someone else. Maybe it’s something you should try and do yourself. Maybe then, the world wouldn’t cast such aspersions on you.”

“Maybe temper your predictions this time, hey?”

Luna sighs heavily, and slowly stands up. Still holding all of her hair behind her with one hand. Lowering the free one to the desk, and tipping it. Surprisingly effortless for how heavy the desk looks. All the sheets of paper and pens falling to the floor.

“The Conspiracy thanks you for your time.”

On the floor, where all the pieces of paper had scattered. They’d fall in the shape of a large love heart. SAMANTHA and BENJAMIN scrawled across all the various papers. And in the centre, SM + BJ. The implication is quite clear.

And then…

Darkness.

Silence.

Nothing.

Luna’s scream echoed through the streets. Lights turning on in various nearby houses. The blood curdling scream enough to wake the dead themselves. But there was no gunshot. There was no bang, there was no muzzle flash. The gun wasn’t loaded.

Sullivan had collapsed to his knees, clearly thinking this would be his final night. A powerful enemy, but one Alex didn’t fear making. His eyes were still fixed on the man, the shivering whimpering mess of a man who had fallen to the floor. Luna’s arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him away. Pulled him away from the man he had just pulled the trigger on. It didn’t matter if the gun was loaded or not. He had done what he needed.

“I fucking own you, you stupid fucking cunt.” Alex spat venomous words, still fixated on Sullivan as Luna forcefully dragged him away. Forced him back towards the car. Forced him to be separated from the situation. Sullivan just knelt there, whimpering. Crying. Emotion from the skeleton himself. Seems even he was capable of feeling fear. Even he was capable of being broken.

“Alex, get in the fucking car.” Luna said coldly. She was burning inside, a rage that she would let him have every inch of once they were away. Away from the scene. Alex replaced the gun in an inner coat pocket, as he finally broke his eyes away from Sullivan. Eyes locking with Luna’s as she continued to pull him by the shoulders. The tiny little thing, pulling away the raging Raven himself. Every part of him burned, screamed to break eye contact. But he knew he had to keep eyes on her. For just the moment.

“That bastard should be dead, Lu. He should be dead, and James should be alive.” Alex said through gritted teeth. The adrenaline was pumping, flight or fight wanted him to fight. He knew the gun wasn’t loaded, but it didn’t change the fact that it was tugging at his soul, that in that moment, he knew he could have killed him. If that gun had been loaded, he would have put that bullet straight between Sullivan fucking Pleasant’s eyes.

“Get in the car.” Luna said, and then the sickening crack of her hand across his jaw. A deserved slap, but it shook him nonetheless. Shook and returned him to Earth. A few people had come out now, surveying what was going on. Sullivan could go to the police. Could have Alex charged. The past and the reality of the situation is that it wouldn't happen. No, Sullivan was far more the type to take things into his own hands. But would he? That was the real question.

Alex pulled open the passenger door, a hand rubbing at his blisteringly hot cheek. Rubbing at where a hand print was surely beginning to welt up. “He took everything from us. Everything.” Alex said the words as calmly as he could. A shake in his voice still. He could pull the trigger, but he couldn’t bear Luna hating him. He couldn’t bear the thought that she would resent him for making the decision he did. He didn’t want her to see that. He thought he had more time.

“You’re a fucking moron, Alex.” Luna said coldly again, as she turned the key in the ignition. Turning the engine over, and slamming her foot on the accelerator. Wanting to get away from the staring eyes, the curious persons. Away from the shuddering form of Sullivan Pleasant who was finally getting to his feet. Silence filled the air, as they drove through the still night. No music, no radio. No chatter. Just the heaviness of their breathing. Thoughts churning in their minds.

“Sul killed my brother.” Luna stated, more a fact than a question. Alex simply nodded a little in return, turning in his seat a little to face her more head on. Trying not to distract her from the road as she ripped through the night. Definitely over the speed limit.

“I didn’t catch a good look that night. Memory is kind of hazy. Trauma stuff, I guess. But… Harry found out. Harry told me. And then it all started to make sense. The man kept turning up wherever I went. Every which way I turned he was there.” Alex spoke, before Luna pulled aggressively off the road. Slamming on the breaks, whipping the both of them in their seats. Pulling the handbrake on she turned, staring daggers into him. Staring straight through him.

“What the fuck were you thinking Alex?” Luna asked, a tightened jaw, her eyes narrowed. Nothing in this world was scarier than the woman who was staring him down right now. No answer he had would be good enough. And no answer he could give was going to calm things down. The only difference with this fight? They didn’t have anywhere to escape, to leave. To disappear too. They were stuck in this fight, and that was something brand new for them.

“I wanted to hurt him, like he hurt us. I didn’t think I’d be able to pull that trigger. I thought I’d go, yell and scream. Threaten and then walk away. But I knew there was a possibility otherwise. It’s why I didn’t load the gun. It’s why I didn’t put that trust in myself.” Alex responded, staring out the windshield now, rubbing again at his slowly swelling cheek.

“James would’ve put you in the ground if he caught wind of this bullshit, and you fuckin’ know it, Alex.” Luna said with some finality, turning in her seat to look at him. Just the slightest bit of softness crossed her face as she lightly slapped his hand away. Her hands either side of his face and pulling him towards her a little.

“I’m a fucking mess, Luna.” Alex said softly, tilting his head forward a little. Resting his forehead lightly against the bridge of her nose. Luna frowning a little and shaking her head, lifting him off for a moment to tap him on the nose.

“It’s weird when you use my full name. You’re the one in trouble here, Lexi. Not me.” She said, soothingly. Placing a gentle kiss to his forehead before turning in her seat. Handbrake off, and slowly pull back onto the road. He settled himself back into his seat, and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Hey, you don’t know Ashton Mire, do you? I got this really weird text, it seemed… like a premonition.” Luna asked.

He’d heard the name before. Worked for a Vita Mors Co. He didn’t really know much about them, but this did seem somehow in their bizarre little wheelhouse. “I know of him. Nothing good to come from it. I wouldn’t engage. Seem like a bunch of cultists. Weird cats.” Alex said, trying to remain somewhat impartial. The whole idea of them being under the watch of Vita Mors was unnerving in itself.

He didn’t know it at the time. But things weren’t going to be as simple as ‘simply avoiding’ Ashton Mire and the illusive Vita Mors. Little did they know what was coming for them. Life was about to change for them, forever. Old friends, new friends and what could only be described as a mystical space cult fronting as a corporation.

The next morning, there was a knock at their door.


“I’m beginning to understand Jack Washington. That’s a scary thought in of itself, but I’m beginning to really understand what he was talking about. It feels like, the more I look, the smaller this ocean becomes. The more I stand here and think about it, the less I feel like a big fish in a gigantic ocean, and the more I feel like a shark in a fucking swimming pool. It’s funny how time makes idiots of us all, and yet in becoming the moron we become the understanding. The ignorance becomes a veil we cannot hide behind any longer and into the light we step. A light of understanding, a light of knowing. Seeing that the longer I stand here, the longer I swim in this ever shrinking bath tub of sticky waste, I begin to understand the minnows that nip and nibble at my fins.”

“I’m beginning to understand why Jack Washington has to disappear for six months a year, and then comes back screaming for attention. I’m beginning to understand why he complained so fervently every single week, and I understand it because now I feel like I’m becoming Jack Washington. Denied the very right to the championships I deserve, in place of undeserving scum sucking filth like Ben Jordan. Like Bill fucking Barnhart. And like you, Goth. The undeserving failed challenger who took my spot. Who took my opportunity from me and then squandered it. Threw it to the wayside and failed to capitalise. But that is our story isn’t it, Gerrit. Ooh, ahh. Let’s get personal with this one, shall we?”

“Let’s really get down into it, because I’m sick of the facades, the masks and the lies we tell ourselves. I’m tired of pretending to be someone I’m not, and I’m tired of you pretending to be someone you are not. The babbling god talk is, for sake of simplicity, horseshit. Bland, boring and uninspired. At least when your old friend, your fellow Savior would talk, there was substance to it, Gerrit. There was this certain power behind the words. There was this belief that I could have in that man. He wasn’t using godliness as an excuse, he wasn’t using it as a sled to the bottom of the hill. No, there was a power in Ken that you do not have. A power that I refuse to accept you even fully understand. But that’s okay, I’m here to show you the truth. I’m here to help all lost sheep be guided back to the truth of it all. That none of you fucking matter and in this puddle, I am the only fish that gets to eat.”

“I can hear it now. The numerous ways that people will talk about it. How Alexander Raven cannot get a win. How Alexander Raven continues to fall at the feet of Goth, how even now. When he was so close to being the one on top of that mountain he floundered at the feet of those who are better. Better? Nobody is fucking better than Alexander Raven. Bad luck and a bad run. A ticking engine that doesn’t allow for the motor to cool down. I haven’t had an extended break. I haven’t more than a few weeks off in the years that I’ve been back. I don’t take time off, I’m always working. Always trying to get better. I’m putting metal spikes in people’s heads, and having my arms ripped open on glass shards in foreign countries where nobody can understand me screaming for help.”

“I’m out there competing with the juggernauts of this industry. So you’ll have to forgive me, if I’m a half-step too slow when I come home to roost. You’ll have to forgive me that I’m just having a bad time of it lately. But the wheel of fate changes and in time, in turn and in reality. In all the facets of the life we live, there is a change in the wind. And the shrinking water droplet can only get so small before it can no longer hold all of us. I wonder, Gerrit, if you feel the noose tightening like I do? Do you think that they will take pity on you? Or will they hold you at knifepoint, blade pressed to your throat and demand that you continue to dance? To dance for the money, for the peanuts and for the applause. Do you think they like you more than they like me? I don’t think they like any of us anymore. I don’t think they actually care anymore. No, because if they cared, they wouldn’t be serving us up for the third time in less than six fucking months.”

“No, I think they might hate you just as much as they hate me. Pitting us against each other in the first round of that tournament in the hopes that it would break us. Pitting us against each other in hopes that one would take out the other, and then the betters, their favourites would make it all the way. They got there in the end, didn’t they, Goth? Finn Whelan stands at the peak of the mountain once more, and the golden child is the king. That’s what they wanted from us, and we gave it to them on a silver fucking platter. So whilst you were failing, in the same way you failed before. I was putting the nails in the coffin of the Cockney king himself, Ben Jordan. Oh, but oh, I hear you cry. Didn’t Ben make you pass out poor Alexander? Alexander the not great. The fallen king himself falling ever further to the British bastard himself.”

“No, no, dear Goth. No, that's not right. That’s not right at all. Ben may have left as the winner, but all it proved was that I am right. Those things I have been saying for months, for years now. That there is a whim from the higher ups to put me down. That there is this desire to stop and end Alexander Raven before he can make changes. Before he exposes us for the villains that we are. The invisible hands are not so invisible now that they are in broad daylight manipulating and controlling the outcomes to their whim and desire. There is no competition when the competition is rigged, Goth. And when it comes to me and you, its been rigged from day fucking one.”


The knocks, rapid and light. Demanding yet comforting. There was a knock knock knocking at the chamber door. He wasn’t really much of a poet in the mornings, but something about this day felt strange. The night before he’d had the gun held to Sullivan Pleasant’s head. The night before he learnt that if time really called for it, he could be that killer. It didn’t matter if it was leaving his father to burn in a flame of his own making, or by putting a bullet in those who deserved it. Alexander Raven was less than he was before James died, and would forever be plagued by the thoughts of what he was capable of.

Luna was surprisingly chipper that morning, which should have set off alarm bells. It should have made him realise that things were not going to be all hunky dory for the man who just wanted to hide from the world for a while. Luna opened the door, and there were squeals of delight. Notably, there were two sets of squeals. Most notably he recognised both sets of them. The loud and the obnoxious, and Luna was far from obnoxious. No, that second set belonged to an old friend. James’ little marigold princess. Adrienne.

Alex groaned as he rolled out of bed. For having been dead sober the night before, he was experiencing one hell of a hangover that morning. He slipped on a simple black tee, pulled on a pair of blue denim jeans, and sat on the edge of the bed. The two girls had shuffled into the apartment. There was the distinct muted sound of suitcase wheels on carpet. A conversation he was sure they would have had if he had not made the decisions he had made the night before.

“About time someone came around to show everyone what a true ginger looks like.” Alex shouted out from the bedroom, as the two girls laughed. Maybe a blessing in disguise. Luna wouldn’t be angry or distant with him today. At least, not as much as she could and would be in normal circumstances. Normal? What was normal anymore.

He opened the door of the bedroom and stepped out in the lounge area. Luna was in the kitchen, making coffee. Three cups. He was expected to be more sociable than he already had been. What a wonderful notion. He smiled at her softly, a polite if somewhat hollow one returned. The stunning orange mane of hair of Adrienne shone brightly in the morning light. She was planted on a seat near the kitchen island counter, her back to him. She turned to look over her shoulder and beamed at him. The bright smile, the happy-go-lucky colorful girl. They may not have always got along the best, but there was something about Adrienne. Something that had always made him want to make sure she was safe.

Something that the Pasilno siblings had always admired. Luna and Adrienne had been roommates for a while, after James and Alex had stepped in to protect her from an abusive partner. They’d become good friends. He knew James would never admit it, but he’d also spent that time teaching Adrienne the finer parts of being a terror in the ring. Another to add to the Pasilno-Rabenschwarz dynasty of broken kids who found solace in the pain of being in the ring.

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it over in time for the funeral. Apparently money doesn’t grow on trees, and I was the last one to be informed.” Adrienne said, a softness to her voice. Alex placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. She in turn rested her cheek on his hand for a second, lifting her shoulder to gently squeeze his hand in response between her shoulder and cheek.

“Hands off, she’s my friend buddy.” Luna said, a stupid smile plastered on her face. Maybe the sleep had done enough to make her not hate his guts. Maybe it was the presence of Adrienne so soon after that was creating a buffer, and a future fight was on the cards regardless. He didn’t know, he probably never really would. For as good as he was at reading people, Luna had always been an enigma. Probably why he had been drawn back to her after all this time.

“Well, I’ll just climb back in my box with all my imaginary friends then.” Alex quipped, as he took the mug of coffee handed to him. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his back pant pocket, offering one to each of the girls. Luna took one, Adrienne took one, and he put one to his own lips. Walking with his mug in hand out onto the balcony. Breathing in deeply as the two of them followed him out. Maybe he should have stayed in bed.

“So, I know it’s short notice but I’m sure you’ll have no problem with it, Lexi-baby. Adrienne needs somewhere to stay for a little bit until she can get her own place. She would have taken the apartment over the bar, but someone has yet to sign-off on the transfer.” Luna said, the implication being that it was Alex who had yet to sign. That was wrong, it was definitely Luna who needed to sign, but he would wear the damage for the day.

“Good thing I bought a comfortable couch, with how much I’ll be sleeping on it then.” Alex replied, lighting his cigarette as he plopped himself down onto one of the balcony seats. Adrienne sat in another, as Luna dropped into his lap. Had he fucking dreamed the events of last night? Things were too calm. Too surreal. Too… normal.

“Thanks Alex. I appreciate it, truly.” Adrienne said gently. Always a quiet girl, but there was a big personality waiting to burst out. Timidity was not her modus operandi by any stretch of the imagination. But she hadn’t had the creature comforts and support that they had after James’ passing. She was grieving, and that was her right. In any way shape or form. There was another knock at the door. Alex cocked an eyebrow and looked at Luna. Luna shook her head, not knowing who it was. Adrienne also seemed ignorant.

Shifting Luna off him and into the chair behind him, he placed his half smoked cigarette onto the edge of the nearby ashtray. Walking inside he looked through the peephole at the men who stood outside. Two suited men, who by any stretch of the imagination couldn’t be anything other than police detectives. The way they held themselves, the way they scanned the nearby area. Alex swallowed hard as he opened the door. The two men looked at him, somber smiles.

“Mr Rabenschwarz, I presume?” The shorter of the two asked, presenting his badge. Alex simply nodded as he stood there, trying to keep eye contact with the both of them.

“You may not remember us, but you gave a statement at the time of one, James Pasilno’s shooting. We thought we’d make a personal visit to say we believe we have the culprit in custody. A man you know personally. A, Mr Sullivan Pleasant. He turned himself into police custody earlier this morning.”

Alex’s heart caught in his throat. Looking at them incredulously. It all made sense now. The reason Sullivan was out so late, the reason he was so accepting of his fate. The reason he had seemingly attempted to repent. Alexander Raven didn’t own Sullivan Pleasant, because Sullivan Pleasant didn’t play by others rules. He was always going to turn himself in that night. And Alex had given him all the ammo he needed to worm his way out of trouble.

The slimy fucking weasel.


“See, this game we participate in. It's rigged from the word go. I’ve done everything right and I continue to be punished for it. I played their game the way they wanted. I took the whippings that they decided I needed to take. I stood there and faced off with the kings they deemed in need of a lesson, and now. Now I’m punished for not succeeding at every step of the way. I’m being punished and turned into just another Jack Washington. I’m becoming the training dummy for all they wish to test, and in turn they continue to screw me every which way until Sunday. Have you ever had the referee end the match because they assumed you were out? That you were unconscious and not just attempting to play possum? No, I don’t even think they want to hurt you that badly. Not yet anyway. Not until you do something really egregious. Like losing to Alexander Raven. Like failing to stop him on his journey to exposing the truth of the bullshit that happens beneath the surface here.”

“No, I think we all know the reality of what happened in my latest outing. And I will not be allowing it to happen again when we get in that ring. See the only thing people remember, Gerrit. The only thing people give a fucking damn about is what happened last. They don’t remember every success. They don’t remember that you were the first into a match. They don’t care if you run the whole damn gauntlet, they just care if you stand as the victor at the end. Ben Jordan couldn’t lace my fucking boots, and you boy. You will see what happens when you piss off Alexander Raven.”

“See, I need you to understand me here, Gerrit. I need you to understand why this is getting fucking personal for me. I need you to understand that things I’m saying are not just the rantings and ramblings of a man lost to his own delusions. I need you to understand that I am a man who knows what the lies happening beneath the surface actually mean for us all. So that when this water molecule that holds us all finally bursts and only the sharks remain. You’ll know why I’m wiping your face off the bottom of my boot and all you can feel is the blood trickling down into your throat. I am not playing for the sake of being another member of the roster. I am not playing to be another body to be thrown to those who are touted as the superiors. I am not just another man who will play the games that they want us to play. No, I am Alexander Raven. I am the fucking Raging Raven. And before you even thought about being the Messiah of Pain, I was the leader of the broken. I was the king of the truth and lies. I was the Broken fuckin’ Messiah before you even thought of muddling about with your holier than thou delusions of grandeur.”

“You’re not a messiah, Gerrit. You’re not a leader, you’re not even the king.You’re just another middling nobody who in this ever shrinking world, thinks that they are getting bigger. Yet the more you stay the same, the more space you take up. And when you’re in the way of those who need that space. When you’re taking hold of that noose for far too long, then you will be punished for it. The punishment you seek to give. The punishment you pretend is owed to others and in it their salvation. There is no salvation Gerrit. There is no escape. There is no freedom. There are just the whims and demands of those who would control us. But it’s okay. I will free us from their chains. I will wipe your blood off the bottom of my boots and paint a beautiful picture. A picture of the future. A future without delusional freaks like you. A world where the Alexander Raven’s of society are no longer held down.”

“I’m offering you true freedom. An escape into a world free of the pain and suffering that you feel is so obligatory. I’m offering you the truth. I’m offering everything you think you can give, and demand praise for. I demand no thanks, no praise, no love. I demand nothing but honesty. And honestly Gerrit. I don’t even think you deserve it. But that’s what giving is. It’s giving to all, even the fucking unworthy. So come Climax Control I need you to understand. I need you to listen. Everything begins and ends with you. Because I finally understand what. Do you?”

“Are you listening to me?”

And then…

Darkness.

Silence.

Nothing.

Luna spent a lot of her free time in the same place now. Sitting next to her brother’s grave. A nice little blanket to sit on. A few drinks, some food. Just sharing what little she could with his memory. Alex had come a few times. To speak about how the world was going. He was angrier than she’d seen him in a long time. Sweet and soft with her, but angry with the world. Small slights he never would’ve thought of before. They sent him into a rage.

She didn’t blame him. She was just as angry. Angry with the world that was leaving them behind. So taking what time she could, she found some peace in coming here. Coming to sit next to his grave. To tell him about the daily going ons. What was happening with the bar, what was happening with their marriage. Future plans, wrestling plans. The things Jimmy would have wanted to hear about their everyday life.

“I’ve got a good feeling this time. I think I’m primed to take the championship again, you know? I think Alex is primed to hurt some people. You’d be proud of us Jimmy. You’d be so fucking proud.”

She reaches into the bag she had brought with her. A simple grey backpack. Pulling out a packet of cigarettes, a lighter, and a can of Colonial Sour. A taste of home for them. They spent so much time importing the stuff, just for a reminder of being back in Melbourne. She cracked the tin, and took a long sip of it. The sizzle and burn of the sour is somewhat refreshing.

“Things aren’t the same without you Jimmy. I know, someday, years from now. We’ll be having this chat again, and I’ll be in a different place. Hurting, but more at peace with what has happened. Hurting, but able to say goodbye properly. I could barely face it at the funeral. I couldn’t accept what was happening.”

The cigarette up to her lips, lighting it and taking a long and harsh drag. A heavy exhale. She looked at the short grass that was beginning to grow over where the plot had once been dug out. A second can pulled from the bag, and placed next to the headstone. A little gift from her.

“I wish I could say goodbye, Jimmy. I wish I didn’t feel compelled to come here everyday. I wish, I wish you were still here. When the hospital called to tell us. To tell us we were too late to come and say goodbye. We just sat there in the doorway. We were just about to get out the door. Hungover, haphazardly dressed. Looking like the scene of a bad walk of shame. I’m sorry we took too long, Jimmy. I’m sorry we weren’t there to hold your hand in the end.”

The conversation was the same most days. Sorrow, pity, agony. She was here every day she could be. Another long drag, another sip of the drink.

“I hope you don’t hold it against us. I know you wouldn’t. We’re going to be better, Jimmy. I swear it. You made me promise once, that I wouldn’t ruin this again. That the world had gifted me a second opportunity, and I wasn’t to mess that up. I’m not going to fuck it up, Jimmy. I’m going to take this and run with it. I promise you that. I promise that you handed me off and it was for good. That you got to see the happiest day, even if it became the saddest.”

She reached forward and opened the tin she had put on the headstone. Pouring some of it out onto the grave itself. A literal pouring one out, for her brother. She took a large mouthful of her own and sighed heavily. Lowering her head, to rest upon her raised knees.

“Alex wants to go back to Melbourne. He wants to run away from it all. I think… I think I want to go back too. Back to a place that was filled with only life for us. Memories of better days. I think that’d be nice, you know? I just wish you could come with us. But, Alex said when he told you. That you didn’t want to move anymore. That you were tired of it. That you’d settled and were putting down your roots. So, even though I wish you could come with us. I know this is where you’d rather be.”

The crunch of dirt beneath shoes suddenly filled the air. She turned and noticed Alex slowly walking over towards her. She hadn’t been expecting him today. It was a pleasant surprise. She smiled, and waved. Taking a long drag on her cigarette as he made his way over. Planting himself down heavily beside her. His arm around her shoulders is warm and soothing. He took the cigarette from her, and took a long drag himself.

“One day, things won’t hurt so much.”

Experience for him. Lauren had passed, now James too. The fears he held, about being an omen of death. About being the angel of darkness. She could see why he felt that way. His parents, his ex-wife, his best friend. If anyone else had said such things, she’d have spat in their face. Then asked for money for the privilege.

“We’re going to burn the world down, Alex. We’re going to burn it all fucking down.”

“We’re going to hurt everybody, Lu. Every single person who has wronged us. Every single person who may wrong us. Pre-emptive justice. Justice for the world that just continues to take. We’re going to burn it all down, and watch as they beg and bleed for sweet release.”

Alex truly was becoming a fucking freak. And she was loving every moment of it. The raw emotion. The raw passion. For everything that James’ death had taken away from them, for everything that it had changed. For everything that would continue to change. They would have each other, and in an ideal world. They would have each other forever.

“I love you, Lexi.”

“I love you, Lu.”

At that moment, they each had an arm wrapped around the other. She passed the can to him, and for a moment. For a moment things seemed okay. For a moment there was peace. A peace that would not last for them.

Things never last.


“Now, Mrs Pasilno. We’ve talked at length previously about the anger that you feel towards these other women. I’d like to re-explore that, if you are willing.”

A long body recliner, occupied by one Luna Pasilno. A small office, a desk against the wall. A bookshelf, filled with hardbacks, most of which seem to be lacking any real identifiable feature. Another person sits in a tall back chair, with a deep seat and high armrests. His face is obscured by shadows. Holding a notepad and pen, he crosses his legs, and taps the pen absent-mindedly against the pad.

“Oh, I don’t know. I guess we can delve into that sweet little pie once more. I don’t even think it’s just anger for these women. No, there’s this pit inside me. This urge to just hurt everyone, you know? I want to make people feel the pain I’m feeling. I want the world to understand what it is like to be me right now. To want to claw your own skin off. To dig your nails beneath the surface and let the blood flow. To turn every shower into a crime scene of crimson. I want to turn everyone into my bloody valentines.”

“I guess it really started with Krystal Wolfe being a mouthy little fucking whore.”

The scratch of pen on paper, the man nodding as he shifted somewhat in his seat. She stretched out on the long recliner, placing the back of her wrist daintily to her forehead. One knee bent and raised, with the other leg stretched out. A woe-is-me caricature. The smile on her face betrays the sadness and anger she spoke of.

“Let’s explore that shall we? What is it about Krystal Wolfe that makes here, and I quote, a ‘mouthy little fucking whore’?”

“Oh you know, this and that. I get it, I’m not a native Australian. Not born, raised and bred to hate freedom and deny the native person’s of my country the right to even a treaty. It’s not my fault I chose to move to the best city that the country has to offer. It’s not my fault that I chose to stay in a place filled with the widest variety of food, the strongest nightlife and the best atmosphere of any place in Australia. It’s not my fault I found myself enraptured and captured by the power of what Melbourne had to offer. A beautiful country, dotted and marred by shit capital cities filled with bogan rats who think they walk this earth with the right and power to make ludicrous claims about what an outsider sees as truth.”

“That’s not even the most egregious part of it all. No, the most egregious part is the cunt actually thinks that anything she says really gets under my skin. I guess it does in a way. Just not how she thinks. I’m not upset by my shortcomings. Any idiot can be mad over their shortcomings. I mean, you just have to look at Krystal herself. She was so mad at her inability to actually succeed that she went and pretended to get possessed by a demon. Luring that other mouthy bitch Keira back into the fold. No, the most egregious fucking thing that our sweet Krystal Wolfe ever did, was decide to pretend that she is any better than me. The crawling, sliding, little slug.”

 The smile began to slip from her face. Now frustration etched its way across her features. The emotional flippance of Luna Pasilno in full display. She swings her hips to the side and plants her feet on the floor. Hands resting either side of her legs, her eyes fixed on the floor near the supposed therapist’s feet.

“Krystal Wolfe? She’s just a thorn in my side. A proverbial pain in the fucking ass. A pain that is full of excuses for herself. Forever blaming the world when she comes up short, but pretending like that doesn’t matter when she gets a bit of confidence in herself. Here’s a tidbit of truth for you, Krystal. No matter how much you try to tear me down. Mock my short little reigns with the belts, and pretend like your Roulette Championship reign is in anybody's memories except for your own. At the end of the day? Ain’t nobody talking about Krystal fucking Wolfe. But everybody has Luna Pasilno on the tip of their tongue, and in their dreams they have to soothe their minds.”

“The worst part of it all. I wouldn’t even care if she would just shut the fuck up. She talks, and talks and talks. Acting like anyone actually cares what she has to say. The last time you mattered Krystal, was during that reign that you cling to oh so desperately. You were a Roulette Champion, clap clap clap. Good for you, what else have you done? It’s been years since it mattered. Get the fuck over it. In fact, if we want to talk about relevancy, about somebody doing something. I’ve beaten both you and Tempest before, for this very championship. You seem to conveniently forget that when it comes right down to it, when it comes to winning the fucking championship. I have a better record than you do, sweetheart. So continue to bang on about how my much more experienced husband is vastly superior. Bang on about how you don’t know what our ‘alliance’ is all about. This may be a strange concept for you, but we’ve known each other our whole fucking lives. We lived in Australia together. We got fucking married, bitch. Bang on and on about things you don’t understand. Because reality talks, and when reality comes fucking knocking, you’ll regret every foul word.”

“So wiggle your fingers and pretend like you matter. My brother was dying. Now my brother is dead. And I am going to make you hurt so you fucking understand that. I’m going to make you bleed Krystal, and then I’m going to tear out your fucking throat. So I never have to hear your whiny, little bitchy South Australian fucking accent ever again. Trot on back to the Barossa valley and drown yourself in the brain rotting wine that marks only three fucking things your city is known for. Churches, Wine and fucking murder. Stupid bitch.”

She screams and stands up, violently kicking out at the recliner she had previously been sitting on. The calmness now completely gone, replaced with anger, irritation and disdain. Perhaps a bad place to start. Maybe the right place, who could tell?

“Insightful. We’ll need to look into that further. But I want to bring your attention to something you mentioned. Previous success. Krystal Wolfe wasn’t the only one you’ve clashed with previously. What is it about Tempest that frustrates you?”

“Momentarily. Before I turn the bitch on, and run her down. I want to thank Tempest. I want to thank her for being one of the only people who reached out to offer their sympathies when I lost my brother. She didn’t have to. She didn’t need to. But she did, and I appreciate that. Which makes what I have to say, to get myself psyched up the worse. I love you, darling. But right now, I’m an angry fucking bitch.”

“Where to begin? See, Tempest and I have banged heads a few times now. Mixed Tag Team fatal four way. In the previously mentioned battle royal with Krystal. I threw my body to her just wanting to feel something on the second Climax Control of this year. To break the feeling of being numb. The irony in that, is the third member of this little soiree decided to stick her fucking nose into our business and start all of this tumbling ahead. I’ve felt the wrath of Tempest a few times. The woman who lifted a car so a fat little troll could look under it. The woman who strikes fear and terror into the hearts of the women that ply their trade here in Sin City Wrestling. Oh, I know Tempest. Another of the old guards sent to get in the way of the inevitable future. To be a stalwart designed to fucking ruin my day.”

“Tempest exists in the same place as the likes of Kimberly Pain, who, oops. She’s no longer here after I embarrassed her fucking bitch ass. Exists in the same place as Keira, as Roxi, as fucking Kat Jones. The only difference is at least Tempest has kept turning up. Keeps being the little stone pitbull of my sweet corporate daddies Mark Ward and Christian Underwood. I can respect a tough lady who doesn’t let the creaking of her knees and the stupidity of her back breaking get in the way of being a human battering ram. Except, just like Krystal Wolfe, Tempest came up short when it mattered most. I don’t have much negative to say about Tempest. The truth is, I really don’t care for her. She doesn’t scare me. A big tough bitch whose whole identity is wrapped up in being scary and tough doesn’t scare me.”

The scratching of the pen of paper slows for a moment, and the person in the chair leans forward. To absolutely nobody's surprise, the face that is revealed is that of Alexander Raven. Dressed in a far nicer button up shirt and slacks than he would almost ever be seen in otherwise. He shakes his head a little, as Luna sighs. Attempting to wash some calm over herself as she pulls the recliner back to where it had been before she kicked it.

“She’s just as irrelevant as fucking Krystal Wolfe is. Maybe even more so. I’ll give her her dues, without her I probably get to be taking a vacation right now. Maybe we could actually be celebrating our marriage on a lovely little getaway to Maldives. Instead, we’re here having to push through grief, through misery and bullshit. I do love my sweet surrogate fathers, but there are times where they can just be so goddamn heartless. Alas, I guess I have a few more words for the vindicator of my happiness.”

“Tempest, thank you. Thank you for including me in your bullshit. Thank you for being so unable to solve your issues with Courtney Pierce in the lead up to this event that, instead of sucking down beers and cocktails, I’m here instead. In another multi-woman match, facing off against two persons I have already beaten previously in a multi-woman field, for a championship that I beat said women for. Thank you for being so unable to not gravitate frustration, irritation and bullshit toward you. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to stick my fingers in Krystal Wolfe’s throat and silence the bitch permanently. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to have a romantic session with Courtney Pierce as she holds Krystal down for me. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to lock your over-sized fucking leg in a Deep Cut and listen to you scream and beg for release, before you tap the fuck out and make me, for the second time ever. The new Bombshell Internet Champion.”

“So thank you, Tempest. Thank you for being here still, just so you can be the giant I use to show everyone what fucking happens when you cross Luna fucking Pasilno. The new Mrs Rabenschwarz. The angry little girl who has fists made of fucking steel. Thank you Tempest, for once again ruining our lives.”


Alex nods a little, leaning back into the chair. His face once again obscured the darkness. For cinematic effect of course. Luna sits herself back down on the recliner, throwing her legs back up onto the couch. Knees bent, her eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“I think we’re really starting to make some headway here, Mrs Pasilno. But there’s one other person that seems to be causing you some level of trepidation. You mentioned her briefly in her relation to Tempest, but we need to more thoroughly explore that. What is it about Courtney Pierce that frustrates you?”

“Right down to the line. I had her, right down to the final moments. Admitted from her own mouth. I had her right to the last second. I came up short. That’s okay, these things happen. In fact they seem to happen more often than not. Arrogance, bravado, whatever you want to call it. The reality is, the woman who touts herself as the best this company has to offer, was taken straight down to the line. It could have gone either way, and I’ll take what I can. But, Courtney said something in the lead up that bothered me. That this started because I stepped to her. That this started because I got involved in her affairs. Conveniently forgetting that the bitch stuck her nose in MY business first. I don’t care that she didn’t put her hands on me. I care that she decided to ruin my match, and take away what I wanted. Take away the fact that I wanted Tempest to hurt me.”

“I’m the fucking Masochist. I think people forget that little part about me. I like to hurt, I like the pain. What I don’t like? People who stop me from getting what I want. That, that is you, Courtney Pierce. The serial interrupter. The bitch who thinks she can get away with it all. If she was like this with anyone else, I’d even have a little admiration. Our equal disdain for the chatty little slag, Krystal Wolfe. I could almost like Courtney Pierce, if she wasn’t just such a hypocritical and blind scrag. See it is one thing to be so self-indulgent, that you cannot see beyond the ego of your own brow. Courtney’s arrogance for the Bombshell Internet Championship, is ironically, not even unique. No, it’s the same schtick that Jack Washington ran with for his recent reign. It’s the same thing that Fenris attempted to use as an excuse for why he wouldn’t wrestle my husband. A shadow of greater persons, taking a stance that doesn’t even mark her as something unique.”

“I’ve said a few times, but the most egregious thing here, is the fucking irrelevancy of the three other women. The irrelevance of Krystal Wolfe in this match with women far greater than her. The irrelevance of Tempest in this match with women far quicker than her. And the irrelevance of Courtney Pierce in this match, for a championship she pretends she doesn’t care for. Pretends because if she acknowledged it, she’d have to accept that someone like our consummate queen, Juliana DiMaria is actually her better. The woman who is her better. Courtney is here because she is no longer the measuring stick for the Bombshell division to measure against. Courtney is here because she fucking belongs here. Beneath the boot of the betters. Beneath the boot of those who actively wish to see things improve. Beneath the boot of the inevitable future. Beneath me.”

She stretches an arm above her head, stretching out lazily on the recliner. The earlier anger is still bubbling but the smile. The smile had returned. That perpetual maniac happiness. She turns to face Alexander Raven, stretching a hand out toward him. The scratching of the pen slowly comes to a stop on the notepad. He leans over handing it to her. The excessive pen seemingly has nothing of note. Scrawled across the pad is simply “Fuck them up.” The words written bold and heavily lined.

“Just to add to the ever-growing pool of people. I know Ruby is going to be there. Tempted to interfere. Tempted to help Courtney get her win. I need you to consider the dangers in that choice. In the dangers of that outcome. You see Courtney, you’re not the only one with someone on the outside that would do anything to help you get what you want. And whilst he might be a little banged up from his own match. Where he’ll be ripping Ben Jordan’s sweet little face right the fuck off. I too have someone who will do anything and everything for me. So I want you to consider, do you want to risk poor sweet Ruby? Do you want to get her involved, if that means that Alex gets himself involved. No rules, that’s the sticking point here, isn’t it? You can have the world, and I’ll burn it all down.”

“I want it known. I want to make a point. That My Bloody Valentine will be a fucking bloody affair if I get my way. I don’t care that we aren’t in one of those cute, sweet little Blood Bath Brawls. A fatal fourway is exempt from the typical rules of engagement. So Krystal, just know. If I can’t use my nails, then I can find something else to break your fucking throat. Tempest, if I can’t lock you in that Deep Cut like I like. Maybe I’ll crush your skull between two chairs instead. Lay you out, and plant you down. Romantic, I think. And for you, Courtney. For you, I’m not going to crush your skull or throat. I’m not going to ram my nails into your sweet neck. No, I’m going to take your face from you. I’ll run these nails down your pretty little face, until the flesh beneath is exposed and throbbing. Gashes and rivers of that sweet, sweet crimson. Because lovers, this is going to be My Bloody Valentine. And at the end? I walk out Bombshell Internet Champion once again. The best of us. The Queen once more.”

She drops the notepad and sighs heavily, closing her eyes as Alexander Raven slowly stands up.

“I think we’ve made some real progress today. Shall we make it for the same time next week?”

“Oh, I think I’ll have plenty to talk about then.”

And then…

Darkness.

Silence.

Nothing.