[Frankie Holliday]

I told you to believe me.
I told you I would do exactly what I said I would.
I am the Blast From the Past winner.

Boy it’s really quiet all of a sudden. I was a pretender. I wasn’t ready. I was manufactured chaos. I was all bark and no bite. I was just a rookie.

Where did all that noise go?

Because I didn’t just sneak out a win, I didn’t roll someone up from behind, I didn’t steal a pin after someone else did the damage. Oh. no. I dropped Mikah with the Ode to Amber Ryan, and gave Laura the Black River Falls and pinned Laura in the middle of the ring. No excuses, no ifs ands or buts.

And now, I have a date at Summer XXXtreme on a cruise ship. A dance partner for that evening. Kayla Richards.

But, that comes in due time.

Because I have some pointless busy work to do until then.

Just like my high school days.

Oh yes, we’re just getting started on my journey.

Shall I continue?

You’ll love this next part.


The worst part about High school is that it just doesn’t end.

It all starts there. A life-long stigma can be attached to you there. You are judged there, labeled there. And it just keeps going. Long after you graduate or leave school, people remember you. We don’t do middle school or elementary school reunions, we do high school ones. Why? There’s no difference, except for literally pettiness. Do you really care about people from your high school? No. No you don’t.

And why?

Because no matter who you are, or where you went to school, you meet and have to deal with the same like 8 people from high school all through life.

I like to label people.

The One-upper. You know, that person that when you tell a story, they have to top your story for no reason? They always have to do one better?
The Two-face. The ones that smile in your face and the moment you are out of sight, they shit on you to everyone in earshot.
The Brown-noser.
The person who never mentally leaves high school.

The list goes on and on. The names, faces, and sometimes genders of these people swap. But… they never go away. You just become more perceptive of them in high school. They persist throughout your life.

Forget the whole thing with the classes being even worse. Because I don’t know about you, but pre-calculus can suck a dick. And I’m never going to write anything and use feminine lens. Why? Because it’s just busy work. It’s impractical. Useless. All the while, you are dealing with the drama of high school classmates whose brains don’t understand risk/reward. This is why we are fucking lunatics as teenagers.

That's because, by design, the teenage brain is built in such a way that impressing other people is more or less the prime imperative, and when you combine this with the thrill of risk-taking, their brains are flooded with excitement. They literally get high off it. In general, this is a good thing for the continuation of the species since, you know, otherwise kids would never move out of their parents' basements and into the real world full of STDs and paperwork.

Know the right people, get ahead in life. Nothing else, just know them. And occasionally, do something ridiculous to get ahead.

And it just goes on like this. High School never ends.
It’s why I didn’t finish it until I understood that lesson.

When Middle school ended, The school was still in mourning over Spencer. He even got a memorial with his class picture on it outside the school.

I had to walk by it everyday. It sucked to have to look at his smiling face and know that, perhaps I had something to do with why he wasn’t here anymore, but I certainly didn’t need a reminder of it.

From all the stories I read about things on Reddit about terrible high school first days and all these awful things that would happen to a freshman, I expected the worst to hit me and I was going to be bullied and shoved in a locker and have my lunch money taken and stuff like that.

None of it happened.

Nobody cared that I was in the high school building. Nobody even noticed me. Those who were sophomores or higher paid me little to no attention. I did have a bit of a reputation as being smart, or a “nerd” but… this was a charter school that called itself an “Academy of Science” So, pretentiousness was already running pretty rampant here anyway.

No, most days went off without any issues. It was the same people from before who knew me, but now we were in the high school building. I just did the things I always did. As anxious as I was about high school, my freshman year was a breeze. I never really had trouble with any class, other than staying awake because most of the shit was boring.

But I also encountered teachers who really… they really stopped giving a shit. Elementary and middle school had teachers who were bright eyed and bushy-tailed about teaching and helping students and relating to them. The teachers in the high school building really just stopped caring, mostly because, I mean, this is 2015, everybody has a phone and people just up and quit the school because they can make money on Youtube and not have to do anything. Anything you really needed to know, you could just look up anyway.  We’re in the era where “Google that shit” became a rational answer to asking a question.

We destroyed knowledge.

So why would the teachers care?

I got my taste of that when I sat down in my freshman Global history class. My teacher, Ms. Stevens, who shared that fake smile that so many people share. The one where we’re polite to the person we dislike until they are out of earshot. It was snarky. It was sassy.

The bell rang, she closed the door and sat down.

Good afternoon class, this is Global history 1. I’m Ms. Stevens. We’re going to be more in depth on the early civilizations and we’re going to cover a wide range of history across the world.” She had clearly given the speech a time or twenty.

"This course is broken into 10 units. The stone and bronze age, the iron age, post-classical and middle ages, the crusades, the ottoman empire, the ming dynasty, the transformations of Europe, Africa, the pre-1600 US, and global conflict. There will be a unit test at the end covering the important topics.”

The indifference from most hit hard.

“I will be honest with you, the information in this class will only interest a few of you. While it is important, it’s not relevant to most of you. In fact, it would not surprise me if most of you skipped this class. And I honestly wouldn’t blame you.” She said with a shrug.

“You have to pass the class, so I suggest showing up and trying. But, if you skip, it’s no skin off my back.” she added.

There she was, actively encouraging skipping the class like it wasn’t a big deal. But in a way, she was giving everyone the option and telling them the truth. History can be fun, but it isn’t until you get to the holy wars and explorers and how batshit crazy was in medieval times that it gets that way. And it takes a long time to get there.

So, it was a trek through for like 5 months until it got actually interesting.

Math was Algebra and some Geometry. Nobody likes algebra. It just isn’t fun and is just a huge pain in the ass. Nobody enjoys adding and subtracting fucking fractions. The less said about it, the better.

English class suffers the most in the school system. You really don’t get a lot out of it. Book reports, interpreting the same way a teacher interprets it or you are wrong. Everybody reads “To Kill A Mockingbird”, “1984” or “Lord of the Flies”, but there isn’t much in the way of discussion and actively going over the important things and knowing why things happen. It makes us, as people, not want to read.

Even if your school assigns a hilarious and subversive book like Catch-22, it's going to be hard for you to really fall in love with it, because you're not thinking, "Let's check out this book!" You're thinking, "Shit, I have to read three chapters by Wednesday and there's gonna be a quiz about it." School puts reading three chapters of an amazing book in the same mental category of memorizing history dates and trying to crack calculus problems.

And that’s really because school, and high school especially, makes everything feel like you need it. “You don’t need to understand it, you just need to know the answers to this quiz.”

The one saving grace I had was science. Biology was fun. Labs were interesting.

I remember being in Biology and learning about human anatomy and how things evolve and it was super interesting. Labs were always fun, playing with bunsen burners always drew my excitement. I mean, I got to look at bacteria and learn how antibiotics work. I got to learn how to figure out a person’s blood type. The shit was interesting to me. It made me want to learn more.

And then, our lab was dissecting a frog.

Pop culture always has this one, and yes, I did it.

I remember that day well.

My lab partner for all these was a girl named Jennifer Jolie and she was kind of a stoner. She really didn’t contribute much in any way and many times wasn’t even there. But I was there. I was ready for it.

My teacher, Mr. Riley, was quirky. He was older and spent many, many classes talking about his Military service and how he didn’t like it. He was a hippie at heart and hated wearing a dress shirt and tie, but he did it, because that was his job.

“Oh, but the way, I know some of you may be adverse to doing this. So, this is entirely voluntary. There will be another lab next week that will count as this lab. And if you are doing this lab and still want to do the lab next week, it will be extra credit.”

He passed out the frogs in our lab with a smile.

This was one of the days I worked alone. I looked at my frog as we began. Step by step, I cut up that frog and I was maybe enjoying it too much. I wanted to see everything inside of the frog. I wanted to go ahead of the steps. I wanted to just go to town and cut this frog up, but there was a process. I followed along and before I knew it, I was pulling the skin off and cutting through the abdomen and finding all the organs and muscles and it just hooked me.

Little did I know just how much it would be with me in the future.

But yeah, freshman year was a breeze.

Sophomore year was where I encountered my first real hiccup when it came to learning.

Maybe it’s because I don’t like math, but all of a sudden radicals and exponential forms confused me. I could not understand this, and my general disdain for math clearly was affecting how I went about trying to figure it out. It was one of those things that I knew I had to learn, but didn’t want to. But the trouble was annoying.

I went to my teacher, Mr. Hodder after a class.

“I’m just not getting this.” I said, pointing at the paper with the homework questions on it.

Mr. Hodder would assign homework and give you 5 questions. He would then ask at the beginning of class each day if anyone had any questions about any of the problems as he wrote the answers on the chalkboard. Most students would simply take advantage of this and write his answers before handing their homework in. Mr. Hodder appeared to not really care.

“You know, you can just copy my answers.” He said with a completely deadpan reaction.

“Yes, I could, but I don’t learn anything that way.” I answered.

Mr. Hodder looked at me for a second, and then laughed. Like, full out loud belly laugh. He thought I was joking. He stopped after I stared at him in disbelief.

“You know you don’t really need to know this stuff, right?” He said, again dead serious.

I continued to stare at this man who was my teacher, just so done with everything. I walked away and from that moment, I really stopped giving a shit about school outside of science. English was lame, Math sucked, and I found out when it came to History classes that the best shit was in all the books that weren’t my history book.

I became interested in other things, and finally, my hormones really kicked into high gear and I got my boobs to grow. Without my mother being able to help me, I again turned to the internet to figure out the development stages of life. I developed an interest in boys, though as I observed most high school relationships were strained at best and cringe-worthy at worst.

Until I found myself attracted to a boy.

He was tall, but not too tall. He had long hair and tattoos. I think that’s what did it for me, the tattoos. It made him look cool, and dangerous. He was a junior. I was smitten.

His name was Eddie.

The only problem was, Eddie had a girlfriend. Missy Egan. They seemed to be in love and care for each other. I saw them over and over walking the hallways, holding hands, and even kissing. It made me very upset. I don’t know why I was like this, I knew only that this wasn’t going to do. No, this wouldn’t do at all.

I came up with a plan to break them up. I got Missy’s socials, and created multiple fake accounts, all following each other to create a network of people. I created fake screenshots of DM’s displaying Eddie messaging other girls and trying to hook up with them. I sent them to Missy and I backed myself up with all my accounts.

And then they broke up.

Eddie was caught off guard because Missy brought these screenshots to school, and confronted him in front of everyone. Crying and acting hysterical. Eddie got angry, constantly denying the accusations, and they got into a huge fight. Everything went according to plan. Eddie was angry and hurt, and Missy went on slandering his name to everyone, making Eddie a pariah.

And that’s when I made my move.

I found Eddie outside the school at lunch, smoking in a corner where there was no camera. I sat near him as he paid me no mind. I looked over at him and smiled.

“I don’t think you’re a bad guy. I think Missy is crazy.”

He looked at me, unsure if I was serious, but perked up when he say I was.

“Yeah, thanks I guess.”

“I’m Frankie.”

“I’m Eddie.”

I love it when a plan comes together.



You know, I should be on top of the world right now.
But instead, I just feel like this is more busy work.

Victoria Lyons.

I thought this was over and done with?

Why are we still doing this whole “queen” thing?

It’s like a terrible video game where you only have a set amount of archetypes to choose from. Is “Queen” like the default one? Or it is "Crazy"? Why are people still on this? Do you have a crown too Victoria? Jesus Christ, Is this just like some kind of sick joke that I’m just not in on? I don’t understand this. At all.

So, Victoria, you were queen or you are queen and that’s just dumb. You are dumb. I still can't believe that this is a thing still. How many more queens do I have to go through before this just ends? I can’t even begin to tell you how disappointing this is.

This is just like a DLC or something, because you also fancy yourself crazy? You also talk to yourself, and weirdly call your brother “dear brother”. You are just a mis-mash of things hoping that something somewhere makes somebody pay attention to you. But hey, you do you, I guess. Not that it will matter in a few weeks time anyway.

Yes, Victoria, at the end of all this, I’m going to change you too. I will slap you so hard upside the head that maybe the voices will come back in your head, but the only voice you really need to listen to is mine. You do understand that no matter what you have accomplished, or will accomplish, what you represent, is failure. The Lyon’s Den will always just be a group of people, trying to prop up something that doesn’t even deserve to be propped up. You understand that no one really takes the Lyon’s den seriously, right?

I mean, I’ve only been in Sin City Wrestling for like a month, and I have heard so many people mocking the Lyon’s Den, and some of them will even do it to your face. At the end of the day, the Lyon’s Den is a lost cause and if you were smart, you would leave it all behind. You would stand on your own and make your own name instead of trying to build up this failing entity.

The only successful members are you, and Eddie. You two could stand alone and still be the Lyon’s Den, because the rest of them are dragging you down. That’s the real issue. Everything you do, it’s all in the name of the group. But I mean, it looks like nobody else is pulling their weight. This is why you should leave. Get away from that group and maybe, just maybe someone might care. You know that you’re giving these people every opportunity you can, and they have given you zero in Sin City Wrestling. They are taking up space when you are on camera. The focus becomes whatever the hell your brother is talking about because you give him that power. You give him that space.

Too bad he sucks too.

Anyway, You, Victoria, should be able to stand on your own and be somebody. But instead, you’re just… part of the Lyon’s den.

It’s supposed to be all for one and one for all or something, isn’t it? Instead it just feels like it’s you, dragging this failed group as far as you can, and it’s weighing you down. You need to be set free, Victoria.

But if you want to hang around with losers, you will be labeled a loser.

Oh, I know, I know, you are the Roulette champion. You’ve been champion for almost a year! You should be respected! I should respect you!

News flash: I don’t respect many people. Especially if they are standing across from me in the ring and trying to stop me from doing what needs to be done.

But more importantly, that should garner respect. It is an accomplishment worth talking about. It is something you should be proud of and people should be acknowledging. You would be correct in assuming all of those things, because they are true. No one has done what you have done and no one has been able to take that  title off you. You should be a big deal.

But nobody cares.

You’re just the chick in the Lyon’s den who thinks she’s a queen and might be crazy and some other stuff.

Weren’t you supposed to be leading a “new generation” of people and “waking up the masses”? What happened to that? I mean, if you just wanted to win a championship and call that “leading” that leaves a lot to be desired. No one is “waking up” to Lyon's Den, Victoria. They just don’t care.

I mean, I walked into this company a month ago, and beat champions, hall of farmers and legends. I hold victories over 7 people in 3 different matches. I came in and rose straight to the top. I am the winner of the Blast from the Past. In 3 matches, I am further along than you. I have a guaranteed world Bombshell’s championship match at Summer XXXtreme, and you will probably be in some match where you’re dangling over a pool to keep your title, if you still have it by then.

We are not the same, Victoria.

And you know why that is? Because I stand on my own, and you have several anchors tied to your ass dragging you down.

The Lyon’s Den is a joke. You should walk away before you turn into a total caricature of a person.

Which isn't far off from what I’ve seen.

You’re going around thinking you’re a queen and have total authority over people.
You had a throne and everything.
People openly defied this, because they didn’t take you seriously.
And you are… upset about it. Like really mad that someone broke your throne which is a decoration at best.

This is just me, with my own eyes, observing you. Most queens, or kings, if they know what they’re doing, rule with an iron fist. You haven’t. Nobody respects your fictitious authority. No matter how long you have held or will hold the Roulette championship. And they never will.

Now, this is where I could have stepped in and helped you. In fact, I am helping you right now! I’m opening your eyes to the truth. You need to stand alone and ditch the Lyon’s den before it ruins everything more than it has.

Of course, why would you listen to me, right? What do I know?

I could be just filling your head with nonsense to distract you.

But am I?

You seem distracted as it is.

The mere fact that you have some weird obsession with the whole queen thing to the point where you think I’m some kind of mercenary working for Alexandra Callaway is laughable at best. I don’t work for anybody. I wasn’t going to really bother with you, but the fact that you think this way has now changed the whole dynamic. Now I’m actually glad I was picked for this match. Now you aren’t the pointless busy work that I thought. You are now just lucky that this isn’t a championship match. Because I would be taking the Roulette title from you. Alexandra made the match, and made it a street fight, allowing me the freedom to beat you with whatever I see fit. Alexandra just knows I’m going to do so and would very much like to see you in pain, which I find quite humorous.

You see how doing this made you so many enemies, Victoria? And who from the Lyon’s Den is going to help you in this match? None of them. You can say all you want that you don’t need them, because you’re going to “kill my momentum” all by yourself, right?

The truth is… you can’t.

All a win does for you is give you a check mark in a column. It means zero to the overall picture. You can’t take away my championship match with Kayla. You can’t stop anything besides an undefeated record of 3-0. And really, that’s not all that impressive. What I have earned, you cannot take away. But that part is irrelevant anyway, because I'm going to beat you, just like I beat Mikah, Just like I beat Julianna, just like I did Lilith and Laura. You are no different. Another person to move out of the way.

In the grand scheme of things I’m just, really another piece on the table in your game with Alexandra. But I’m not a knight, bishop or rook on this chessboard. I’m just a pawn.

But you see, the pawn can become any piece it wants to be, provided it makes it to the other side of the board. And I’m only a couple of moves away from it. And there’s nothing you can do to stop that. I will make that next move and become a more powerful piece. You just have to watch as it’s done. You're a queen piece and you are in danger. You didn’t see the move that’s going to take you off the board because you were too busy looking to see what you could take.

A classic mistake.

And so, on Sunday, I will make the move and take you off the board. Because that’s how this works, Victoria. You will be removed, no longer a threat to me, and I will leave you to wonder what happened. And the reality is, I’m doing you a favor by doing so. You wanted to lead a new generation and wake up the masses, right? It’s safe to say that you failed at that, and you need to be replaced.

And that’s what I’m here to do.

I’m going to change you, and free you of that burden. You are no longer fit to lead anything. This is my job. It’s my mission. It’s what I’m doing. That’s the truth. I am the leader. You have shown you can’t lead. You are much better off being a follower. And who better to follow than me! I am the future!

I have a plan. I’m changing this whole place and at the end of the day, I will re-shape you and everyone else to how I see fit. You will no longer have to worry about any of it, because it is clearly too much for you to handle. You can’t even be queen correctly. Leading everyone is not the task for you. It will be better this way.

And then I will relieve you of the burden of your group. You can freely leave the Lyon’s Den ship before it sinks, and stand on your own. Because the alternative is not an option you really want to explore. Because it will just make you a victim of repeating history.

Kings and Queens who don’t rule with an iron fist, and ensure they are in charge and have all their bases covered? Eventually, revolution happens and those in authority are deposed. They are overthrown and then exiled. Or… they are executed. Happens all the time. Consider this your show trail, Victoria. You’re already guilty of the crimes committed, and we will all go through the motions, and then… you will be dealt with.

Is that what you want, Victoria? I don’t think it is. You have options. But I know, your pride will cause you to be a fool and try and stop me.

You can’t stop a revolution. You can’t stop evolution.

And Sunday, that point will be made painfully clear to you.

Just think about what I said. Think about what you could be.
Or don’t. And suffer the consequences. I don’t mind a little blood on my hands. It wouldn’t be the first time.

The choice is yours. It’s not hard. It will be better if you just listen.

Trust me.