[Christian Underwood]

Post all roleplays for this match here.
Limits: 1 roleplay per week, per character, 10,000 limit.

Good luck!

[DistortedAngel]

“Violence up close has a smell. Like copper blood and charcoal burning.”
― Jodi Picoult





Undisclosed Church
Somewhere in Southern California
01.06.2009
9:06pm



Guaranteed money.

Quietly scowling, Amber tugged the edges of her jacket closer despite the warmth of the breeze. Sure, the cheque might have carried a couple less zeroes than what she’d anticipated and the opponent was just as likely to show up addled out of their mind on an LSD trip as they were to be clean, sober and borderline professional. You know, if one could classify an unhealthy obsession with the smell of IcyHot and the sound of velcro tearing as any kind of indication of professionalism.

… but in the end, it was still guaranteed work and it was hers. Money as good as in her pocket where all she had to do was show up and throw down.
Instead?
Instead  she was here… on the other side of the country having lied about some family emergency that seemed unrealistic by even her own low standards.

Dominic had promised her that this would be worth it… sealing it with a kiss that scraped the edges of her soul.

She couldn’t even lie and say that she didn’t want him to be wrong about all this. Justification for the gurgling spite that rose like bile in her throat and another reason to throw the derision he had for her career choice back in his stupid fucking face.
Secretly though, she found herself intrigued by the hushed nature of it all. Dominic had kept her in the dark largely since their last outing together- his private talks with Asher and Elijah leaving her holding up the bar for a good portion of the remainder of their night.

Stand by. Looks pretty. Be ready.

Yeah. Fuck you.

Attempts at prying were met with a defensive wall of accusatory statements, frustrated raised voices that implied sabotage for the sake of her ‘wrestling hobby’ as though what she’d worked so hard for and so long for fulfilled little more than a tertiary focus.
Flattery hadn’t done much either- if anything it was laughable the way he saw through her before she'd even managed to convince herself of the validity of her attempt. A few choice words and a kiss on the forehead left her back at square one- fuming and as in the dark as ever.

Patience, he’d ask for. Leave it to me, he’d insist.

… and like a lovesick fool, she’d fucking let him. Suddenly a dissatisfied shrug of the shoulders was preferable to an argument, even though it left both parties feeling only a little less volatile and numb to the real issues. It wasn’t as though she didn’t trust him… except for the fact she absolutely fucking didn’t as empty platitudes of doing what was best for the both of them translated into what was best for him and his reputation.

Times are changing, sweetheart.

That was his token response, his mantra to every query or question she’d posed- as though determinedly trying to convince her of something he refused to elaborate on.
Amber, in the midst of it all simply continued to fulfil her purpose- whatever it had become and whenever she seemed to be allowed.

Stepping up onto the curb as the car pulled away, Amber wove her fingers delicately through Dominic’s while her stilettos clacked loudly against the concrete. They’d been Dominic’s idea, as were most things it seemed, he’d told her they gave her more of an authoritative image whereas she only found herself filled with the dread of how many ways she could break her ankle.

In spite of everything- she loved him just as much as she loathed. In the same breath that told him how she felt, she could feel the air squeeze out of her lungs and her heart seize within the confines of her chest. Silently, she hoped that this might have been the heart attack she’d been praying for.
Meanwhile he’d look down into her soul with those deep brown eyes, the sensuous curl of his lip spinning lies and deceit like twisting snakes lacing poison across her tongue- each lie a little sweeter than the last as though he feared losing- not her, but the idea of her.

Tugging at the edge of her jacket as it draped over her bared shoulders, she knew she didn’t need it. Security perhaps, another vain attempt at hiding attempted femininity where the laced edges of the dresses neckline snaked a little lower than she had anticipated. Satin skimmed across skin, clinging just enough to fulfil its purpose and far too much for the redhead to be comfortable- Dominic had insisted though, something about the importance of first impressions as though she had little more value than the way she appeared.
Brains and brawn- with one swift motion and outfit choice, he’d stripped her of both.

At least this one touched below the knees, she mused with further readjustment, tickling just below where the crook met calf.

“You can’t possibly expect me to believe…”

Amber trailed off with little opposition as Dominic took up her hand with a reassuring squeeze, approaching the sprawling white stone as it stretched upwards. Modern in architecture yet classically Catholic in principle, built on obscene wealth and the belief of those with little else to their names.
It struck a nerve no doubt- the pretentiousness and overbearing nature, the excessive wealth disguised as charity and goodwill, maybe the way it offered a false promise of salvation in exchange for everything they had left to give. Sacrifice on a one way street. Reliance on an unseen force to save people from their own terrible decision making.

Hell, even standing back amid the faint glow of the street lights left her feeling a little sick in her stomach- although she couldn’t tell if it was the endless overtones or Dominic’s heady cologne.

She’d watched her aunt- her primary care-giver until age ten- fall into the same ruse as many. Raising a rambunctious and precocious little hellraiser alone for three years perhaps would have done that to anyone, if the booze had driven her there first… Years of nothing but mild derision at the thought of worship were pushed aside in favour of a sudden self-righteousness in hopes that maybe a higher power existed and would take pity, saving what little she had left to salvage of her life from going straight down the shitter.

“Do you trust me?”

His voice seemed distant, despite the fact she could feel his body heat. No doubt he meant it in sincerity however Amber struggled to stifle the surge of laughter in her throat to the point that only an almost inaudible murmur escaped.

“Not in the slightest.”

Self-satisfied in his own knowledge, Dominic was the first to pass through the threshold as though a test to see if the Devil would in fact burst into flames, Unfortunately for Amber, spontaneous combustion wasn't with her on this day.
Musty with the distinct acrid smell of burnt wax, the wooden pews were worn with age and reverence in rows that stood stoic and proud. Amber hadn’t prepared for the sensory overload, instead found herself counting the seconds as they passed while waiting for lightning to strike her down on a cloudless Californian night.

"Do you see a man skillful in his work? He will stand before kings; he will not stand before obscure men.”

Neither of them saw the source at first, glancing about nervously as though expecting an ambush- only to find a lone figure emerging from a harshly lit albeit obscured room just beyond sight of the doorway.

“Proverbs 22:29.”

To say Reverend Alistair McCrae was an impressive man would perhaps have been an understatement- suffused by the candle light as he strolled confidently towards the staggered pair, his dark suit seemed to radiate warmth while the clerical collar at his throat only served to give him an otherworldly charisma. Handsome in the way that some men in their early to mid thirties seemed to grow naturally into, he gently ran a hand through the dark short back and sides betraying the first flickers of silver grey.

“Business and religion aren’t generally considered to share much in the way of a common ground. Selflessness and selfishness seemingly unable to cohabit the same space within us. Personally I tend to believe otherwise- as a man of the cloth, I believe that our faith and the way we express it greatly defines our path. As a businessman- I’m intimately aware that simply willing something into existence is futile. We make our own luck, create our own paths from the threads that are left for us to follow.”

Brilliant green like polished jade flickered as he spoke, a fervour ever presently simmering beneath his words.

“Every man, woman and child who walks God’s green Earth has purpose. Some might need to fulfil roles of power and importance, while others simply serve to fertilize and exist for the sake of dying again. It is human nature to look into others though, just as much as ourselves, in hopes of finding the pieces that perhaps you might feel as though you lack- some call it love… others call it business acumen.”

Standing only a little taller than Dominic and deceptively well built, Reverend Alistair McCrae had an undeniable presence, filling a room with a decided anticipation simply by walking through the door.

“Mr Del Gado. Miss Ryan…”

Regarding them both briefly, Amber tugged the edges of her jacket in closer as the faintly judgmental stare tore through the almost tragic defenses that had taken a battering from Dominic already.

“Believe me when I say that I appreciate your ambitiousness, it's just...”

Perfectly set teeth smiled broadly, almost reptilian like if Amber dared look hard enough. If it weren't for the vaguely threatening undertone, perhaps Amber might have been swayed into believing that Reverend McCrae was everything he’d been made out to be. A modern day Mother Theresa- if she’d had a quick mind for money and carefully manicured social media presence, Jesus fucking Christ incarnate with an updated minimalistic fashion sense and internalized ethics compass spinning wildly out of control.

Maybe the man really was like God, if only for the fact he couldn’t be touched.

Dominic’s father, Del Gado Sr, had been surprisingly forthcoming- if only because he found their collusion delightfully cute, like puppies gnawing at an older dog's ear in hopes of garnering more than a yawn in reaction. It seemed like everyone had a story that was told to them by another, who’d told someone else in passing that their cousin's dog walker was a home wrecking whore…

… but also, that Reverend Alistair McCrae seemed to have it all figured out.

“... I hope you aren’t here to simply waste my time.”






******



“If I asked you if you would be willing to sacrifice everything for this title Myra, what would you say?

… and this isn’t the point where you go rampaging off on some tangent about everything you’ve had to give up just to get where you are- and so on and so forth cause that's not what I’m asking.
As much as you might believe that the sound of your voice echoing through a dead silent arena is fulfilling, I can safely tell you that you are legitimately the only person still listening to anything you have to say.
Hell, even Andrea has stopped listening and she’s the one with the really unhealthy obsession of being the next Myra Rivers- at least I won't have to be the one to tell her just how low that bar really is.

Seriously though, have a good log think about it Myra.

Everything you’ve built, the good name that you’ve cultivated. Career, reputation, sense of belonging and worth in places that long since stopped valuing loyalty in favour of who can talk the loudest or carry the biggest stick.
Would you be willing to take all of that, crumple it up into a ball and throw it over your shoulder- just for one more shot at arguably the most prestigious world title in professional wrestling.

Yeah, I said it. I went there… Argue with me, I dare you.

Does it seem like a fair trade?

Of course it doesn’t. That's absolutely ludicrous, isn’t it?

Our lives and our well being is far more important than ten pounds of leather and metal, a physical proclamation that we are truly the best at what we do- something that no one can ever change, even once the title has long since changed hands.
At least you would think so…

Which is precisely why you aren’t the World champion and nor will you be at the conclusion of Violent Conduct.

Truth is Myra, you’ve got nothing on the line. Nothing left to lose- and while that makes some women dangerous, it just makes you far less of really anything. There’s no incentive except the one you emotionally created, there's no reason for you to do any more than what you might deem ‘necessary’ and your life certainly isn’t worth voiding cause you’ve got so much more to live for… but not to fight for.
I’m the one with everything to lose- I’m digging my heels in, sharpening my teeth and claws in preparation for war cause I’d rather breathe my last in that ring than watch you walk out with MY world title belt slung across your shoulder.

It’s no bloody secret that I made my name in deathmatches. That my name has long since been synonymous with ultraviolence- I’ve been pulling glass and metal shards from my skin as long as most of this roster has been wrestling. Time and time again, I have lived and died for this fucking industry- for titles that meant half as much as this one, in gymnasiums in front of 25 rabid fans and arenas full of the burned out and apathetic.
What I’m willing to give on any given night far outstretches anything you’d ever be willing to consider- and truth be told, that's perfectly okay. That's a very normal and rational response in this situation and I’m proud of you for doing basically everything except admitting that.

What I’ve proven I’m willing to give for this title- well, that's really yet to be seen, isn’t it?

There hasn’t been a situation or a match yet where I’ve really had the opportunity to flex, see I’ve been the good little champion, I’ve stuck within the confines of the rules andI’ve played as nice as I dare with all the other kiddies tripping over themselves for their chance.
Not with the title on the line at least.
Match after match, opponent after opponent I’ve been nothing short of respectful- if only for the fact that I haven’t come after their careers, for the sheer nerve of stepping up the moutain like they did more than just run their fucking mouths.

When it really comes down to it though Myra- you couldn’t possibly understand that willingness and readiness to give up absolutely everything. You’ve never had to- and I have no doubt that should it present itself, and be very assured that it will… all bloody and desperate… that you’ll simply turn the other cheek and shrug your shoulders, trying to play it off as barbaric like you don’t need any of this to be considered the best.

Except to get past me- you well and truly do.

Being the best is to be top of the mountain under every circumstance- from singles to multis-mans, from food fights to fire fights, from the humiliating and morose to the straight up inhumane.
Rain, hail or shine Myra- that's what this is about cause being above the clouds doesn’t make you exempt from the storms.

Of course, you’ll claim the odds are stacked against you. That you’re fighting from beneath as the heroic underdog, desperate for it to stick regardless of how literally nobody except you actually believes it. Don't stand by and try to play coy, like you didn't know what you were asking for when you came crawling for your rematch- you knew the play, you knew what you’d be getting yourself into and yet once again Myra Rivers is battling the odds… and no one cares.
It’s Violent Conduct. It's not as though you didn’t know, as though you weren’t aware what you would be potentially walking into with eyes open and heart willing- cause that victim claim always works a little better when you got a few battle scars to back your bullshit.

None of this was a willful decision, this was a ‘be careful what you wish for’ coming back to bite you in the ass cause you couldn’t dare to accept that you couldn't just will all of your desires into reality.

This is an exploding barbed wire death match, it does what it says on the packaging…. And someone, probably the both of us if I’m realistic are going to go out there and we’re going to get really fucking hurt and nothing you can say, no amount of whining, excuse making and escape goating can change that.

It's up to you Myra, to really decide just what you’re willing to give.

Fact is, my life has been forfeit for a long time- I’m simply walking around like an asshole waiting for the lights to be switched off on my existence. I have bled for companies that couldn’t care less, torn myself to shreds for titles that were taken off me mere days later cause I didn’t fulfil the image of what they perceived a champion to be, I’ve spent nights in emergency rooms overhearing my closest friends being told that the worst case scenario was more likely than not- for ten pounds of leather and gold.

There is no one else on this godforsaken roster who understands what sacrifice truly means as well as I do- that's why the top of the mountain has space for one, cause by the time you get here there's no one else left. Your loved ones, they just can’t handle it anymore- they want you to stop, to consider your choices and to realize how utterly insane this whole venture is. They see a whole life ahead of you, whereas you only see as far as the next title defense… Your friends, they can barely stand the sight of you anymore and can barely recall what you looked like before the nightly car wrecks. Your peers, they grow to loathe and distrust just waiting for the eventual slip in hopes that they might be just sick enough to take your place while the seat is still a little warm.

I’ve come from the edge of oblivion Myra to the top of the goddamn world- and I know fully well that the day I lose this belt is the day I step back over that edge once more.
I won’t pretend like I haven’t hurt a lot of people who didn’t deserve it to get where I am- nor will I apologize for the ones who did nor the ones who’ll likely fall into the crosshairs soon enough. I own my shit cause every step of the way mattered- every broken body meant something… whereas you stopped dead in your tracks the moment you got as far as you wanted, setting up camp in the proverbial middle of the road and making everyone else pay you for the opportunity for a glimpse of what might lie beyond.

You stagated. You accepted that you were happy where you were, that you didn’t need anything else- until I made this world title mean more than your Internet title. All of a sudden you got motivated again, you wanted for something and be damned if you weren’t gonna throw everyone else under the bus you could on your path there.
It's just really funny, cause in the end… it really didn’t matter how many matches you won, did it?

Not in hindsight.

Hell, I don’t think you’ve learned a fucking thing from our last match…

You have no intention of changing who you are, but you still expect the bar to be lowered cause you refuse to up your game. Your matches just happen, there's never any mention of a Myra Rivers moment on a highlight reel and no one talks about a damn thing you’ve done once the three count occurs.
You never stole shows, you never impressed except in longevity- just high quality filler, like Botox.

I’d say except that you aren’t toxic, but I think we both know that's not really the case.

Tell me, who did you actually beat to earn this re-match… Alicia Lukas or the facsimile of the woman who used to be known as Alicia Lukas. I mean honestly, she’s so deep in the process of soul searching I’m wondering if she’s gonna find mine while she’s down there.

Look, I get it… It's kinda on me cause I’m too fucking impulsive to turn down a challenge, but that doesn’t make you worthy of a shot either… You’re at the head of the line cause everyone else worth a fuck is too busy writing out their legalities cause that's the going rate for a swing at me…
Look at it this way- Roxi is still trying to find the pieces of her backbone while claiming she wants to ‘earn’ her shot, procrastinating in hopes that someone might dethrone me first.
Alicia is out there chasing semi-precious stones while trying to figure out where the fuck along the way she lost hers.
Andrea is too busy trying to be a better version of you and only succeeding in getting that fabled ‘fuck off heat’, seriously girl… Just stop it, you aren’t actually hated, you’re just being really annoying.
Keira is contemplating retirement like anyones gonna notice she’s gone in the two weeks before she makes her ‘triumphant’ comeback to the delight and surprise of absolutely no one.
Christina is so distracted with dying her hair and pretending like it has literally any influence over the way she behaves and is perceived, like she isn’t a piece of shit human being masquerading as a rainbow piece of shit human being.
… and as for Jessie fucking Salco? For the love of all that is decent, stop calling me out. I’ve beaten you three times and it's just getitng fucking tedious now. Change something, just literally anything and then come and see me cause I feel like I’m in a constant state of deja vu.

That's the competition for you right now Myra, the misfits and the monumental disappointments…

… God, and everyone wonders why I’m so fucking bitter all the time.

Let's be real here, I won’t pretend like I’m not already sick to death of being generous, of keeping my damn mouth shut while everyone with two brain cells to rub together wants to throw out idle challenges as though there's no consequences.

Myra, I am the fucking consequences. I’m what's waiting at the edge of the river when you step through the gates of hell. I’m the Charon of this fucking division- eternal and undeniable. It's not the barbed wire or the explosives you should fear when September 12th comes around… it's me. It's the fact that when the cacophony of noise has long since stopped ringing in your ears and the last of the blood stops trickling across your skin- I’ll still be here, same as ever, with title on my shoulder and a stupid bloody smile smattered across my face.

So when the dust settles though, when all is said and done… sparks no longer fly and the last of the barbed wire is freed from the embrace of flesh and bone- in the wake of Violent Conduct there's something that I’d be so very appreciative of you to do, if you could manage… Something so very important that would mean more than you could possibly imagine...

I want you to keep your word Myra… I want you to keep your word and show these girls that there is no shame in going to the back of the line.”






******


 
Undisclosed Church
Las Vegas, ND
30.08.2021
8:17am





Three rows from the back.

If she were lucky, no one would ever even know she’d been there. Last row felt sacriligeous unless it were a Sunday and your kids had spent the last half an hour determinedly doing anything except putting their fucking shoes on. Anywhere in the first half made her feel blatantly transparent- a false devotion as purposeful as it was situational, once in a blue moon and only when it was just the right shade of royal.

Bone sunk deeper into wood as the intoxicating lingering waft of burning incense draped heavily around her, the cushion along the kneeling bench now little more than a decorative strip of fabric that breathed deeply from beneath the thousands who’d taken solace there.
Amber liked to think that's what she was here for, what she was chasing- however the truth always seemed far more convoluted in practice. Although never terribly religious in a traditional sense, years of barbaric matches and adrenaline seeking disregard had driven her on occasion into the embrace of the church and it's empty promises.

Ritual and routine, she contemplated silently, a little placebo effect perhaps to soothe the few butterflies that used to flutter between her ribs.

“Never thought you’d be one for getting on your knees, love.”

As gently as a man of his size, in a place certainly not designed for such accommodations, Mac Bane lowered himself onto the pew beside her as she gently began to unclasp her fingers from atop the pew ahead.
He wasn’t wrong.
Never was.
Astute and straight to the point even after all this time.

“I wish I had something clever to say, but somehow everything I could come up with would have had me righteously struck down for my insolence.”

“As if it's ever stopped you before.”

Loosening her fingers, not realizing perhaps how tightly she had been gripping them as the blood rushed back, Amber did her best to stifle the chuckle.

“First time for everything.”

Levity. That's what she’d been missing- or at least the half-hearted attempt at it.

“After all, I’m in a church and not immediately on fire… Call that baby steps”

It was Mac’s turn to laugh, deep and sincere to the point that Amber briefly feared for the state of the stained glass windows.

“Truthfully, I used to do this far more. Although that was also back when I was risking my neck on what felt like a weekly basis… Before a match, like the one at Violent Conduct, I’d come to town a few days early and seek out a church… Preferably one that didn’t have a constant stream of tourists looking for their next forgettable insta-story or inspirational quote.”

Amber didn’t notice, her head still lowered between the crooks of her elbows, but Mac’s attention had slowly drifted back towards her with a fond smile. Somehow a sincerity radiated from her voice, despite the fact it barely raised above a murmur, while fingers laced together softly yet purposely.

“I’d come there in hopes that maybe without the commotion and fervour of faith, that maybe someone might hear me as I asked for forgiveness , for acts I’d never apologize for. I’d pray in hopes that maybe there would be something left to salvage, that I wouldn’t feel quite so empty when it was all over.”

Lifting her head, she could feel the crick in her neck. Something shifted until it clicked with a wave of relief flooding briefly through her system, a tiny endorphin boost in a place that made her feel guilty for enjoying it.

“I’d go and light a candle, just like you would out of remembrance. A requiem in advance I suppose. It sounds actually quite stupid to say out loud- and yet it used to quell the storm of butterflies that would otherwise beat my heart into quiet submission.”

Mac’s hand slipped over the top of hers in solidarity, squeezing gently as she slowly rolled her neck back and forth.

“A tiny flame in exchange for a soul. It seemed like a fair trade, a place of safekeeping... Cause very time I went out there- I’d forsake all decency and leave respect back in the locker room because I knew… I knew that no matter what I did out there, that there would be a burning little shard of mortality that- even at my worst- I couldn’t extinguish.”

A firmer, more reassuring squeeze followed as Mac leaned over to rest a gentle kiss on the top of her head. Even such a gentle, almost nothing, touch seeped through her skin and spread as though she carried gasoline in her veins. Whether he understood or not, whether it even mattered now became irrelevant in that moment as all the religious pretense and pretentiousness dissolved around them.

“I used to believe that if everything went wrong, I could at least say that I tried to do right…”

“So what changed?”

A tepid smile cracked through the otherwise passive facade, flickers of something below the surface looking for the right spark to ignite.

“I guess, I did."

Perspective was a bitch, although she’d never admit it aloud. Life and death became far more vapid once you realized there was nothing left on the other side- all the threats of bloodshed and carnage held less and less water with each passing confrontation that ended in the same inconclusive fashion and the fear that once drove her onwards into the beating heart of war and discord had settled into a far more passive self-destructive cycle of spite and loathing.

Now, for the first time in months she felt as though she had to look a man in the eyes and tell him that she was preparing to become one with the stars. That the image of her he’d grown to know, love and respect so deeply was always going to return with a fucking chunk torn out of the middle.
After all, there were only so many times she could stand on the edge of career oblivion and taunt the void, before that very same void got tired of her repeated bullshit and tore the edge away from beneath her.

“I realize that each time I step in there, I’m pushing my luck just a little further. I can see the edge, but I always think I can just get a little closer and be okay… I used to judge how I felt about a match like this by the way the butterflies would rage, but I’ve come to realize that it's been a long time since I felt the flutter of wings.
That's the tricky thing with this title defense stuff Mac- each one is a greater risk than the last, the promise of another adrenaline hit pushing further cause for some reason the high doesn’t quite last like it used to.”

Pushing herself up onto the pew, she thudded against the back edge sending an echo careening into open space.

“I’m not gonna sit here and pretend like this isn’t the run of a lifetime, you know? That I’m ever gonna be able to replicate what I’m doing right now. I should be scared out of my fucking mind that this could be it… I’m at title defense number six, I’m in a match that plays so far into my strengths I can’t help but wonder if the powers that be just really don’t like Myra for some godforsaken reason… I should be exhilarated, and instead I just keep thinking that the this time the house of cards is coming down."

Pulling her in closer, she could hear the rhythmic beat of Mac’s heart. Constant and comfortable, just like the man himself- while hoping that hers might slow from a rampaging stampede in her throat to a dull, persistent ache in her chest once more.

“You’ll be fine, I beli---”

“I KNOW I’ll be fine Mac, it's just that… I dunno, I’d at least like to see what lies at the end of this record rainbow before I have to decide whether the eventual fall was ever really worth the climb.”

She didn’t have to ask the question cause the answer hadn’t changed from day one. She’d fallen more than she’d ever soared, the mountaintop was never supposed to be a long term place for someone like her and yet with every victory she allowed herself to enjoy the next sunrise just that little bit more.
Of course the fall would be spectacular… of that, there was no doubt to be had.

It would be the landing that would be the problem.

“I just wish I had it in me to hesitate, you know? I wish those stupid fucking butterflies would beat me half to death from the inside out- just so that I could feel justified in how far I’m willing to go. I can’t though, I can’t sit here in a place like this and ask for forgiveness, I can’t pretend like I’m not going to do absolutely anything to keep this title out of Myra’s hands.
I wish I had it left in me to fear this match- if only so that I wouldn’t be so fucking terrified of what I’m willing to sacrifice to win…”





******




“For millennia, people have gone to the most extreme of lengths to prove superiority in what they believe in.

A concept of faith and a divisive desire to prove oneself as ‘correct’ irregardless of the cost has resulted in some of the bloodiest conflicts that humankind has record of- I mean, lets think about it… the Holy Crusades were started cause some people couldn’t accept that other cultures had their own deities and didn’t need another one. Wars have been started over simple disagreements in faith and how devotion should be recognized.
Even professional wrestlig is built on the quicksand foundation that there are two or more people at a time who firmly believe that their self-belief is worth more than the next guys- even now Myra, here we are again mere weeks after trying to kick each othjers fucking teeth in cause you can’t quite comprehend that you don’t just ‘get’ world titles cause you really, really want one.

As such, these differences in opinion and faith have been settled with every form of unimaginable violence- and with ways that even now we’re still innovating. For a time it was simply accepted, that violence and belief were inexplicably entwined…
These days those extremes are a little more fronwed upon- but that's only cause we were sick enough to learn how to fucking broadcast it.

Exploding. Barbed. Wire. Death. Match.

Is that the validation you were looking for?

At Summer XXXTreme, you told me more times than I care to count that everything I did was cause I needed to be validated as though my reign were little more than a ticket needed to be fed into a meter so it's worth might be judged accordingly.
It's only now that you come to realize the opposite was true- I never needed anyone to tell me how good I am, I’ll be the first on any list that starts rattling off reasons why I’m the fucking best in this division, numero uno being that I’m the goddamn champion.

You thought, what have you got left to show for your efforts… How quickly has your reputation been broken down and forgotten amidst a new slew of contenders not having to vye for a place in the spotlight next to your over-inflated impression of self-worth
Everything that made you special went down the drain with that Internet title- you traded your personality for a record breaking streak and everything you brought to the table got quickly pushed aside.

Now, you’re scrambling Myra. You’re in desperation mode and you need me to recognize you as some form of equal- that's why you show up on every show and run your mouth with recycled material cause you’re worried people will start forgetting what you look like and why your voice reminded them of spoons in a blender.
So very worried about becoming irrelevant, you’re living vicariously off the bones I’m willing to throw- cause your name in conjunction with mine makes you feel like a bigger deal, it gives you this undeserved platform that would otherwise be occupied by someone with something far more interesting to say. Of course, there are those who still believe in you- but that nostalgia only lasts for so long before it becomes bitter on the back of your tongue.

Fact is Myra, right now I give you meaning and my title gives you legitimacy.

You’re calling this an all or nothing- when the only thing you have left to lose is your self-respect, and that's already looking a little dubious. You don’t get to call this do or die just cause it's the first time in a long time that your back has been anywhere near a wall- and I’m not gonna stand here and feed into the pity party cause you deemed that you deserve one.
No, this isn’t some last ditch hail mary attempt at a miracle and those that seek the assistance of God at the eleventh hour have a bad habit of dying at 10:30… You’re throwing out buzz words and cliches in hopes of drumming up sympathy in the kind of match that only serves to make the fan base salivate in two places at once.

You never once had an interest in bettering this division Myra, the only things that ever mattered were your image and reputation- and even just the idea of you trying to proclaim otherwise now is an insult to everything I’ve done as champion.
All of a sudden thought, you’ve got nothing better to do- you just wanna be at the head of the table cause you don’t know how to do anything else but ‘be the champion’ and even then some little air quotes feel appropriate. I get it, you wanna take your career out on an eventual high- but I haven’t worked my fingers to the bone, making sacrifice after bloody sacrifice to give you the tickertape parade as you waltz the fuck out the door. Main event after main event, match after match- I’ve been as consistent as I have been dominant.
I’ve earned my place where I stand, I’ve earned everything I’ve gotten whether good or bad since I walked through the door… whereas you? You’re just looking for the cherry to top off a career that’ll be remembered as middling at best, but with a big ole bright spot where you roadblocked an entire sub-division.

There’s a price to play Myra, always has been and for the last year you managed to skirt around it, you’ve skipped the line and tried plucking so many heartstrings that it's a miracle any are still attached. I can’t diminish what you’ve done in principle- but I can look below the surface and know that all the sincerities you spew are tainted with narcissism and that fearsome facade of goodness you portray is just another front.
Your dreams don’t mean more than anyone else's and your retirement wouldn’t create a tsunami of tears, you’re just as ambitious as you are a manipulative try-hard desperate for the approval of those who stopped caring the moment you barricaded the Internet title road for your own private glorification.

There’s no doubt you earned a lot of respect as Internet champion Myra, but you lost a lot of that when everyone got to see that everything you claimed only ran skin deep.

Once a proud and defiant force, now… all you’ve earned recently is the impending exit of my lunch.

Of course, there’s more to this sudden anxiety about the way you’re perceived though- you can see that garish headline on the horizon, and you’re quickly realizing that it's not your name on the marquee. You said it yourself- High Stakes is the biggest show of the year and the belt slung over my shoulder is your golden ticket to that big dance.
If you aren’t the World Champion then you have to, oh no… you have to fight your way onto the card. Oh, the humanity of it all- how would you possibly cope with doing what every other Bombshell on this roster has been doing for the better part of the last 6 months to year.

Honestly, it's more a shame that you so very obviously take this sentiment as gospel than you serving me right once again as I prove you regard the Bombshells World title as little more than a fucking prop, a crutch of convenience when that entilement chip starts getting a little too heavy on your shoulder.
You want the line on your resume without the resposibility, the spotlight withough the sacrifice- you want your cake and to eat it, but it's not your cake and you don’t get to complain that it's vanilla when you wanted fucking strawberry.

I won’t lie, just the thought of it all rots through the bottom of my guts.

I mean you’ve gone as far as to admit it- that the idea alone of not being featured in the Bombshells World title match at High Stakes, the defining event of the SCW calendar, as the champion makes you feel ill.
You wanna know what makes me feel sick Myra- the fact you so openly admit that you wanna be champion for such pathetic reasons, that you’re so confident in your ignorance that you fail to realize how fucking entitled you come across as.
Hell, even just the thought of potentially losing to someone with such a selfish and self-aggrandizing perspective just makes me wanna tear my heart out of my chest and just throw it in the corner.

Maybe you’ve already resigned yourself to the inevitable, that the moment you open your mouth- all I’ll hear is a swarm of fucking locusts spewing forth with every excuseof why you refuse to do better painted across their shitty little bodies.
You’re already looking ahead to high Stakes, trying to make sense of what your career will hold when you come up pitifully short once again- but a word of advice to the foolish, if not fervent.

Don’t worry about ‘what’s next’ for Myra Rivers when she loses.

Maybe worry about the state of your career now, and whether I’ll have just enough generosity left to spare to let you keep one long enough to see High Stakes come and go without you.”





******





Oblivion Garage
Las Vegas, ND
03.01.2021
5:46pm




“Yeah, if you could just turn that ignition real quick…”

Buried beneath the hood of the 1967 Chevy Camaro, Amber wiped the back of her hand across her cheek- only half-heartedly trying to avoid spreading a splatter of oil from a rather finicky drain earlier that day. From the corner of her eye as she straightened up, one of their younger apprentices obliged and slipped in behind the wheel- allowing the redhead a moment to straighten up and stand back.
With Mac and herself being back on the road for SCW, it had been increasingly more difficult for them and their ‘family/friends based’ operation to keep up with the increasing demand.

It wasn’t as though she’d fallen out of love with the travel- however catching cat naps in uncomfortable plane seats and outdated hotel rooms just didn’t quite measure up with slipping in between the sheets of one's own bed. Especially when there was the opportunity for it to be shared.
For at least the next few days though- her bed would be without company, those loosely tangled sheets a little more lonely than she was used to. Work commitments, Mac had told her, and some business that needed taking care of- from the look in his eyes, she knew far better than to delve more than necessary.

No, another few days and she’d be gone again too…

It wasn’t as though she resented the travel- so much of her life had been on the move, that staying in one place had felt almost foreign and undeserved. Years upon years, she’d spent more time catching cat naps in uncomfortable plane seats and searching for sanctuary in outdated hotel rooms than between the walls of her increasingly desolate Atlantic City apartment.
Living out of a duffle bag had been traded in for a real life, hotels for a home and nights drinking in a solitary oblivion for a golden marriage built on foundational violence and respect for the artform.

Maybe she missed the travel, but she knew deep down that she’d miss being closer to home even more.

That was the cost of being champion, she had to remind herself, one that she’d give anything never to be devoid of again. Amber thrived under the growing pressure, under that constant expectation of excellence- everything she’d worked for over 15 years had culminated in ten pounds of metal and leather that she proudly carried on her shoulder.
She was making everything better- whether they realized it or not, she’d quietly raised the bar while everyone was too busy looking at their feet trying to figure out how Amber had so readily managed to pull the rug out from under them.

A low rumble filled the garage as the engine shuddered into life, coughing a heavy breath of acrid grey exhaust before roaring with delight at the repeated touches of the accelerator.

“I must commend you, Mrs Bane”

Snide and overwrought, Amber allowed her shoulders to slump in aggravation in response, as Dominic Del Gado sauntered across the grease and oil stained concrete floor.

“Your ingenuity knows no bounds, and the fact that you have time to command such a… quaint set up, really is quite admirable. I’d have thought that the pro-wrestling nonsense you insist upon dedicating your life to would keep your hands full enough and yet here you are- still managing to jenga yet another commitment.
Really, it's quite the achievement.”

As the rumble tempered into a low and steady growl, Amber waved past the hood to signal for the vehicle to be cut off- biting her tongue just hard enough that it might not shoot from between her lips with a venomous hiss. Locking eyes briefly with the apprentice as she lowered the hood, Amber needed little more than a curt wave and nod of approval to send him on his way.

“Shall we talk somewhere a little more... private?”

Gesturing vaguely, Del Gado swallowed hard as the wafting remains of exhaust seemed to linger like a dusty haze.

“Know what, I don’t think we shall. Besides, I'd like to see if you'd feel so brave to walk in here and start talking to me like an asshole when my husband gets here…”

A classic bluff, and one she’d always felt a little pang of guilt for calling upon.

“I’d be vaguely far more concerned if he were going to”

“You’re acting as though he isn’t. That one message  form me doesn’t have him barreling through that door, ready to start swinging.”

She knew Mac was more cerebral than that- not that Dominic would care. Far more determinedly vindictive and calculating too when it came to his dealings with karma. Let alone his family.

“He isn't, although I do admire your attempt. No, see… right now, I have it on very good authority that he’s probably somewhere in Texas doing some of that good ole cowboy shit- you know, chasing coyotes and wearing hats. Not that it's any of my business- see, we used to be so much better than this Red. It never used to be this way just sitting here trying to take verbal potshots and poking at each other's bloated egos with sharp sticks.
We used to be unstoppable, infamous and just a little notorious. We used to be our own proverbial be-all-end-alls, who had no need for side hustles and juggling commitments cause we had each other…”

“You say ‘we’ alot for a guy who really only ever gave a fuck about his own skin.”

Del Gado chuckled as he rested a hand against the hood, allowing the warmth of the now quieted engine to spread throughout his hand and up his arm for the effort.

“Don’t stand there and pretend like you didn’t enjoy it Red, that you didn’t LOVE being that little redheaded hellraiser that had no qualms about extorting, blackmailing or just generally ruining peoples lives with a wicked little smile.
See, wrestling made you soft… You got comfortable and you got committed, instead of chasing those highs and getting fucking exorbitantly rich- you stayed with professional wrestling like it has anything more to offer you than an unhealthy collection of concussions and what ifs.
We used to make a difference and now the only thing you ever seem to change is the appearance of whichever poor bitch drew the fucking short straw to get punched in the face seventeen times before quitting in disgust.”

Amber had little reason to correct his assumptions, not because they happened to be  right in any way shape or form- but because they sounded far more entertaining than the truth. Moving around the car to create some extra separation, Amber caught a glimpse of the young apprentice disappearing out through a smaller back door with a wave and apprehensive smile, returning it with something intended to mirror and failing subtly.

“I got stupid is what I got Dominic. I got stupid and more importantly I got left to fucking rot so perhaos forgive my lack of willingness to wallow in ‘nostalgia’. Instead, how about you just tell me what the fuck you want form me and be done with it already- cause I’ve still gotta lock up and try to wash the taste of this conversation out of my mouth.”

Leaning across with a devious smirk, Dominic winked and sent a wave of nausea coursing through her every nerve ending.

“Yeah, that's right… You grew up and found some morals between the couch cushions Red, cause good ole ethical and righteous professional wrestling was the solution to all your problems. That you could just punch your way through everything that bothered you, and run when your fists gave out- even now you believe that violence will solve every issue you have, cause if you break something or someone badly enough then they can’t possibly be bothersome anymore, can they?
No, I’m not here to ask that of you- as much as I’m sure you’d love that.”

For a man who’d never had to sacrifice for anything, Dominic spoke proudly like a man who understood what it was like to have problems that weren’t just first world inconveniences. To a man like him, hard work was just the long way of doing anything and the World Title that she carried so proudly was just for show- and as real as the fights were, they amounted to little more than an overly exorbitant show of pride.

“... just cut the crap already. You’re cutting into my drinking time now.”

“With patience Red. You never really were one to wait, to savour anything before you throw everything back into the wind with the hope that it wouldn’t just change direction. I made you a promise and I’d like to show you that I meant it…”

Straightening up, the grin softening into something she presumed was supposed to be sincere and thoughtful… Instead he looked as though he were halfway through a difficult bowel movement. Reaching within his suit jacket, Amber briefly contemplated the idea of simply grabbing something heavy and metallic before lobbing it in his direction- if only so that his mouth might stop moving for ten seconds.
A common envelope, folded like only a goddamn psychopath would straight down the middle- blank, generic and entirely disappointing.

“Stationary. You are so incredibly generous, I’d never have thought of getting just one lousy envelope…”

“We both know you aren't stupid Red, a little dumb and ill-tempered at times, but such flaws can be forgiven cause you’re so damn predictable. I told you I could give you something that you, yourself couldn’t manage- closure.”

Cassidy. God, she’d promised Grizz that she’d make good… that she’d fix everything that had been broken. Somehow that seemed so far in the past now, distant and yet scorched into the back of her mind with a branding iron. Somehow the idea that Del Gado could have been lying, for whatever reason, had quickly almost become the preferable choice…

Almost.

“Or, you could be giving me literally nothing and telling me to be thankful for the effort.”

“I very well could- but I suppose you’ll just have to trust me. As such, a favour calls for one in kind and as I recall- you said everything except formally agree to an agreement.”

It was starting to get dark outside now, the lights in the garage becoming a beacon for insect life to swarm around the fluorescent tubes lining the ceiling, occasionally dropping like tiny flecks of black onto Dominic's crisp and probably expensive suit. Her fists clenched, as her jaw hardened- there was no doubt he was trying to back her into a psychological corner and was succeeding in such a way that it infuriated her no end.

“I’m not asking you to do anything violent Red, so you can ease up with the angry fists… There are certain things that I was never as adept at as you, skills and liaisons that I’ve grown to appreciate far more in hindsight.
Chaos, my darling… I want you to ruin a man’s life.
See, I could ask you to destroy his car, but he’d no doubt simply buy a new one… A house or a boat? A little more difficult, but still within the realms of inconvenience. Hurt his family? It’s a little low, however people with money grow further detached to others with the more numbers they add to their bank account- it's an exponential scale. Perhaps one day I’ll explain it to you…”

Reaching again into his suit jacket- Dominic furrowed his brow, skin barely wrinkling where natural creases might have once sunk.

“Mess with a man's cash flow though… Their stocks, their shares. Variable things that can be easily influenced- think of it as a financial butterfly effect. A restaurant's bad review can tank their image, a club that gets busted for serving underages and supplying high end clients with illicit extras- share values start to sink. I trust you get the idea…”

“So…”

Amber swallowed hard, crinkling her nose in mild antipathy.

“... you want me to get on Yelp and start acting like a Karen?”

Forcibly and with little amusement, Dominic laughed with a shake of his head whilst putting away the first envelope, before pulling free another- this one slightly bigger, with the name ‘Red’ likely handwritten by some overworked and underpaid assistant.

“Bit below me don’t you think, given all that glowing praise from before.”

“I don’t really mind how it's done- you know enough shitty people willing to jump through a hoop for $20 and a pat on the back. The envelope has a list of businesses- go nuts, as soon as possible if I could be so bold.”

Leaving the envelope on the hood of the Camaro, Dominic turned on the well tailored heel of his shoe to leave- however without even touching the envelope, Amber found herself disgusted and intrigued.

“Are you at least going to tell me who’s life we’re ruining- I dunno, give me some form of ownership or reason to feel more like an asshole.”

Dominic barely paused to shrug, amused perhaps at her willingness to engage once his back was turned.

“Why does it matter?
Putting a name on anything gives it sentimental value, sure. However it doesn’t make it any less worthless in the long run- it doesn't change the inevitable outcome.
All those women you fight Red, they all have names… they probably have families and people who genuinely care about them and yet it's never stopped you from committing horrendous acts of violence.
I'm sure it's occurred to you. Not fucking once did it stop you, and it probably never will. Just go about justifying everything you do with the fact that it's just who you are- anyone who gets in the way be damned.
Hell, I’m not asking you to care about any of this- if anything it's quite the opposite and the fact that you have to question it suggests to me that maybe you never really changed- you’re the same old leopard Red, you just got better at hiding your spots.”

With a trailing contempt that lingered in his wake, Dominic disappeared beyond the garages roller doors and into the deepening inky night- the envelope of businesses left on the hood of the Camaro like a sickening ornament commemorating a place in her life she’d told herself she’d left behind.

He was right though. He’d been right all along it seemed.

Doing bad things didn’t make her a bad person, but enjoying them… Enjoying them sure as fuck did.

[Myra Rivers]

“This is it. It’s a do or die situation for me as I’ve been saying in the weeks leading up to it. Summer XXXtreme was a heartbreaker for me and I am not going to downplay that. I’m grateful; for one last chance at the SCW Bombshells World Championship. However, the three key words here are ‘one last chance’. What if I don’t get it done this time? What if I lose to Amber again? In the event that it doesn’t happen for me again and the narrative stays the course, where the hell am I going to go from that point in SCW? In any case, I can’t be worrying about that now. There is SO much for me to overcome before Violent Conduct. But is there TOO MUCH for me to overcome? Is the world championship just something that will always be out of my grasp?”

August 29, 2021

I was in my hotel room in the Pacific Northwest thinking about my flight back home to Miami that was to come the next morning as well as the fact that Amber Ryan had retained the World Championship, as expected, against Jessie Salco. Albeit, at the moment, I was not really thinking too much about that considering I was on a WhatsApp video call with Kimberly who was sitting on her bed back at home. My heart was full of warmth as I spoke to my seven year old daughter who was in bright spirits just like she had a tendency to be.

“You are going to win this time, right?” she asked me. I did carry some nerves inside of me regarding Violent Conduct but for Kimberly’s sake, I had to remain upbeat, even if I had to force it.

“Of course!” I said to my daughter. “Amber won last time. It hurt. I am not lying to you about that. But, the most important thing in life, ALWAYS, is that when you get knocked down, you pick yourself back up and you keep on fighting no matter what. Okay? If anything, that’s what I want you to always remember. You fight until you win and you achieve your goals. That’s life right there. Please don’t forget that!”

“I won’t…” she said.

“Good! Don’t forget that! I need you to hand the phone back to your aunt, okay?”

Kimberly nods.

“Good night, mommy! I love you!”

“I love you too, sweetheart… and I AM going to win this time! I know it!”

I waited for a few seconds as I watched  the camera randomly face the floor with Kimberly carrying the phone back to Adrianna in my bedroom. My sister was still sitting in a wheelchair from her accident, though she was looking more recovered. However, in spite of this, I noticed that as soon as the camera caught a glimpse of her face, her face had a rather grim expression. Immediately, I became concerned.

“Is something wrong, Adri? Are you okay?”

“I’m personally okay, but I don’t know about you.”

“What?”

“I found out something about your match with Amber. I hate to say that I am reading it right, but I’m seeing something about how your match with her is going to be an exploding barbwire deathmatch…”

Hearing those last three words immediately made me numb.

“Tell me you’re joking…”

Adrianna sighed, telling me that she wasn’t.

“I’ve… I’ve never been in a match like that before…”

The air was starting to come out of me at this point.

“You mean to tell me that my possible last chance at the world title, my possible last opportunity before my window closes… it’s going to be fought in a match that clearly favors Amber. I… oh my god…”

“Myra, it’s going to be alright…”

“That’s not a match I can win…”

“Don’t say that! You’ve beaten Amber before…”

“But not in THAT kind of match! My back is up against the wall. I don’t even know what I am going to do or how I’m going to get through this. This is my possible last chance and I have to face THAT kind of uphill battle? This news… it’s overwhelming to me. I don’t have it in me to compete in a match like that. It’s not just the fact that I’ve never fought that kind of match before or the fact that it clearly favors Amber… but… it’s the fact that I feel like… I might have to be a certain ‘monster’ that I was at one point just to even stand a CHANCE in a match like that… and even then…”

“Myra, you’ve got to slow things down, alright?”

“What if I already wasted my best chance at Summer XXXtreme?”

“You haven’t! Please, slow it down right now. I understand that you’re scared and I understand that this is a pressure, do or die situation here. I am telling you right now that you do not need to be that person again in order to beat Amber.”

Adrianna was still talking, but I was tuned out at this point.

“Of course it has to be this way…” I thought to myself. “I should’ve stood aside and maybe let Roxi get a shot at her. I guess my Internet title run was all just a big tease after all. What of that reign was my last stand before this whole wrestling thing is over for me? I already know that there’s no way I’ll get another shot as long as Amber has the title if I don’t win this time… and with THAT stipulation? It’s just gotten even harder.”

“Are you listening to what I am saying, Myra?” she asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah…” I said in a hushed voice, as the feeling of dread was pouring through me more than I’d like to admit. “Adri, I’m SCARED!”

“How can you be afraid of Amber?”

“Not Amber… not even the stipulation really…”

The tears started to hit, but I was holding them back.

“It’s not even the odds that are against me. That world title just got SO much harder to win. What if this is my last chance not just for now… but FOREVER? I could get so hurt in that match that at my age, I might not even wrestle again if something seriously bad happens to me. SCW was gracious to give me one last chance, but that’s what I KNOW in my heart this is. They’re not going to give me a shot at the world title while Amber is still champion, I know it! You know it! If I lose this, what do I have left to give to SCW? What would I even have left to do at High Stakes? If I don’t go into that show with the world title, what is left for me?”

I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore.

“I’ve tried so hard to deny it, but I am SO SCARED that I’m going to fail AGAIN. Losing on my birthday was heartbreaking sis, you know that. I was able to endure that ONCE. I don’t know if I can do it a second time. I want to win one more world title SO BAD… and yet, with this stipulation, I am starting to worry that I’ve already won my last one… and it was one that I cheated my way to win in GCW. I don’t want that to be my last world title. I want to prove that I can be a world champion one more time, the right way. If I can’t do it this time, will I EVER be able to do it?”

“Take a few deep breaths, alright? You’re under so much pressure. I get that. Sleep this off and figure this out in the morning okay?”

I nodded as I wiped my tears, stemming from fears, away. Adrianna and I said our ‘good nights’ before the call ended and I went to bed for the night. That pressure on my shoulders was unbelievable as more racing thoughts occurred.

“Should I just accept that being ‘so close, yet so far’ is my destiny? I can’t be at peace with my career until I win one more and I do so the right way. I am starting to think that maybe it’s just not meant to be…”

These fears and worries continued to penetrate my mind for about an hour before my mind wore itself out and finally allowed me to fall asleep…

April 24, 2013…

I suddenly found myself backstage at the then-named US Airways Center in Phoenix, Arizona. Hearing something on a distant TV about “President Obama” made me realize I was in a different time.

“Oh god! WHEN am I this time?”

I walked around the hallways trying to figure out what day in my past I was in. Some posters of PRW were seen and I even saw some former co-workers in the distance giving each other a goodbye embrace. Then, I saw a poster that truly triggered me.

“Luciana Verdoza vs. Myra Rivers.

The final battle for the PRW World Championship!

PRW’S LAST SHOW EVER”

“Oh no! Not this! Any time but this! Mom? I’m not ready to face this just yet…”

I turned around and I saw not my mother, but my father.

“I brought you here…” he said with a snicker. “...I figured before you ultimately fail against Amber that you are reminded of your biggest failure of all.”

“I got nothing to say to you…” I told him as I tried to enter the door. Unfortunately, he blocked it.

“You know in your heart that you can’t win…” my father said, causing me to cringe internally. “You know that just like this night, when you went up against one of your greatest rivals ever, with everything on the line, you can’t win and you won’t win. You know it in your heart when you faced Luciana too and you know it! You deny that to yourself because that’s how FUCKING STUPID you are and always WILL BE!”

“Step aside from the door so I can walk in. NOW!”

“Suit yourself…” my father said with a laugh as he stepped aside and allowed me to walk in. Sure enough, I was seeing the one memory that has long triggered me: sitting down in the locker room, a broken, shattered failure, crying my eyes out after losing to Luciana Verdoza, feeling like I failed my mother and then unborn daughter, horrified that I had ended my career on such a terrible note.”

“I’m finished…” I saw myself say. “My whole career is a failure.”

Watching this again really made my heart sink with despair.

“I wanted this for my mom… and I failed her. I wanted this for my child and I’m already such a bad mom myself. I let them down, I let my fans down, I let myself down, I let this company down. Because of ME, the most hated person in PRW gets to be the last world champion. I am going to have to live with this horror for the rest of my life….”

Seeing myself act like this was depressing me, but it wasn’t about to get better.

“You always were useless without that darkness you carried in GCW, Myra…” I heard the familiar voice of Jayson Schneider, the toxic ex-boyfriend I dumped months ago for trying to turn me back to the dark side. I turned around, feeling angry, fueling him to continue. “...you know deep down that the only way you are beating Amber is if you bring her back and do what you did to Maggie Lockheart in Carnage. You can’t win being a PARAGON OF VIRTUE! You want to avoid going through this again? EMBRACE IT! EMBRACE YOUR DARKNESS! KILL AMBER! It’s the ONLY WAY!”

“You’re not doing this to me again…” I said, remaining strong. “I know that what I got is good enough…”

“Because it was GOOD ENOUGH to beat ME eight years ago, right?” I heard a female voice say behind me.

That moment caused me to go numb… hearing the voice of Luciana Verdoza, the woman who beat me eight years ago on this awful night. I looked and there she was. She was laughing at me just as she did on that night.

“You are never going to overcome the fact that in PRW, with the RIVALRY we had for years, that it was ME with the last word! I shattered your dreams and broke your spirit and I ENJOYED ALL OF IT! With Amber, this is your last chance. You’ve got the same chance that you did with me: winning the world title at the expense of a rival. And yet, because you’re JUST NOT GOOD ENOUGH, it won’t happen. You are going to FAIL with Amber. AGAIN! You are NEVER going to be good enough, Myra. My proudest moment in wrestling is breaking your heart as you failed your mother and daughter and permanently altering your career. You’re not over that. Seeing you suffer, and come SO CLOSE BUT SO FAR ever since has really warmed my heart. Eight years later, and you’re STILL suffering because of ME! I will ALWAYS be in your head, Myra. You’re never going to overcome me and as long as you do, you can forget about ever being a world champion again!”

This was the point where I gave up inside.

“I can’t beat Amber…” I said with a stunned realization.

“Damn right you can’t…” Jayson said. “This night will always haunt you. This night shall always serve as a reminder that you will never be good enough again!”

“I can’t wait to see Amber destroy you and put you out of your misery…” my father said as he walked in the room.

“It’ll be my great joy to see you FAIL AGAIN! You’re going to be SO HEARTBROKEN that you have NO CHOICE but to retire…” Luciana said with glee.

“It’s about to be over for me…” I said in defeat.

“YOU CAN’T DO IT!” all three said, taunting me. “YOU CAN’T DO IT! YOU CAN’T DO IT! YOU CAN’T DO IT!”

The taunts continued again and again and I had just sat there and taken out before a bright, flashing light blinded me.

And I woke up… with weirdly, far less energy than usual…

“I can’t do this…” I said as I sat up. I felt this horrible twinge in my lower back and my shoulders crack as I stretched them out. I looked to my left and saw a massive surprise..

A calendar…

With “Today’s Date” of September 12, 2036 reflecting.

“What the FUCK?”

I slid out of bed and looked in the mirror. My hair was shorter and grayer. There were definitely some crow’s feet forming around my eyes.

“I’m 52…” I realized. I heard someone walking up the stairs quickly and before I knew it, I heard someone pounding on my bedroom door. I went over to open it and I saw a beautiful young lady in her early twenties. She was extremely angry.

“You are the worst mother EVER!” the young woman screamed at me.

“Kimberly?”

“Mom, you’re old as hell but not old enough to be developing Alzheimer’s. You realize that you cost me a wrestling opportunity, right?”

“What are you talking about?”

“MY TRYOUT?!?!?! With SIN CITY WRESTLING! It started out SO well with them stating ‘We see Kimberly Katrina as a HUGE star and then they did a background check and they found out that YOU are my mother. Then they said ‘we can’t hire you. We don’t want you quitting on us just like YOUR MOTHER did 15 years ago!”

“Oh my god….”

“WHY did you have to quit SCW AND wrestling after Amber beat you in the stupid Barbwire Deathmatch? Oh right, because you thought you had nothing left to give to wrestling. FUCK YOU and your SHORTSIGHTED SELFISHNESS MOM!!!! You know what’s worse? The locker room found out who I was and they made FUN OF ME! They called you a failure because you never won the big one in SCW and you bailed after you had your chances against Amber fucking Ryan. So now YOUR reputation is affecting ME and I have to waste my career cleaning up the mess YOU made for being such a FUCK UP with yours! Do you understand how embarrassing it was to be rejected by SCW because ‘your mom quit on us’?”

I had nothing left to say at this point.

“You could’ve risen up from that loss to Amber and just kept trying and pushing to win that world title because you were at YOUR FUCKING PEAK IN SCW… but NOOOOO…. You GAVE UP! I HATE YOU for giving up! I looked up to you and THAT is how you pay me back? I HATE YOU MOM! I HATE YOU!”

Hearing that from my own daughter officially surpassed all the heartbreaks I ever suffered in wrestling.

“I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I can forgive you for cheating on my dad, but I can NEVER forgive you for being a QUITTER! I HATE YOU MOM! I HATE YOU SO MUCH!!!!”

Another blinding flash hit me and I shot up on the bed I was sleeping on, wide awake and completely stunned. Fortunately? I really DID wake up the next morning this time…

August 30, 2021

I was floored and shell shocked as I sat up on my bed. My eyes were widened with shock. My heart was beating rapidly and I could already feel myself sweat. My nerves felt like they were on fire. I could feel my hands shaking and my breathing was so rapid that when I tried to slow it down, I even gagged on air for a split second. My internal fears of what was ahead in regards to Violent Conduct had totally consumed me. There was no ounce of confidence in me at all. I was a complete nervous wreck about my match against Amber now. I woke up the next morning feeling like there was no way I was going to win at Violent Conduct now and that I had already won my last world title and that I had to live with a legacy that I didn’t want as it pertains to being one of the ‘best Bombshells that never won the big one’.

All I could do to cope was cry…

And for about 10 minutes that’s what I did as I buried my face in the pillow I was sleeping on. There weren’t any words. There weren’t any thoughts. All I felt I could do at this point was cry. It wasn’t helping me with the fears that were pulsating through me, but at the very least it was taking my mind off of them for the moment. But once that moment faded, all I could think about was that horrible night in PRW that I will always consider to be the most devastating loss of my entire life. All I could think about was how losing to Amber was going to destroy me and how I was about to waste my best chance to be a world champion again and on top of that, the worry that my daughter was going to hate me when she grew up. I was really questioning my abilities now, more than ever.

My fears plummeted me to a suffocating rock bottom.

I recovered and sat up again.

“I’m not afraid of losing to her… I’m afraid about where my career would even go if I do. I know I have to win this… but I don’t know how. I don’t want my window of opportunity to close. But if I lose… it will. Maybe I should give in and be THAT Myra again… the one that didn’t give a shit, took pride in hurting people, altered and ended careers, abused the living shit out of Andrea. Perhaps that’s my only chance…”

I grabbed my phone and logged on to my browser. Out of curiosity, I was seeing fan and critic opinion of the exploding barbwire stipulation. I was reading opinion columns… each and every one of them driving a dagger through my psyche…

“Myra can’t win”

“Myra’s last chance will end in failure.”

“Prediction: Myra’s world title window closes when Amber beats her again.”

“Amber Ryan: Too Good Right Now. Shock Stipulation To Seal Myra’s Fate”

“Myra Needs MIRACLE To Beat Amber Now”

“Myra’s Former Rivals Comment On Chances”

It was this title that drew my attention. I clicked it and I saw a video. My eyes widened with shock seeing Jayson and Luciana, the two people from my nightmare, standing by each other over in Japan. I knew I shouldn’t click the play button, but I did so anyway.

“BARBWIRE DEATHMATCH, HUH?” Jayson said with a laugh. “I fought a few of those here in Japan. Fun stuff. Myra? Someone who prides herself as being a great technical wrestler in THAT kind of match? Against Amber fucking Ryan? NO CHANCE! NONE! Maybe if she was Myra from, say, four to five years ago? Must suck for her… FINALLY she finds happiness only for a rival to take it away from her. Hmm, sounds FAMILIAR it’s almost like… it’s HAPPENED BEFORE!”

“Oh YEAH, I remember ol’ Myra…” Luciana began with a smirk. “It did happen before, didn’t it? Who was the old rival that took ALL of her happiness away from her? OH RIGHT! That was ME! I broke Myra in 2013 in the last PRW match ever.”

“I DEDICATE THIS MATCH TO MY MOM AND UNBORN CHILD!!!!” Jayson says in a mocking tone of voice, causing he and Luciana to laugh and me to grow angry.

“WAH! I LOST! I FAILED MY MOM AND CHILD! WAH!” Luciana adds. “I know she still talks about it. She’s mentioned it in a couple of her promos before. I’m still in her head. I will ALWAYS be in her head. Every insecurity she’s ever had is because of ME! Don’t let her 350 day reign fool you! She’s STILL broken… and Amber is just going to finish what I started eight years ago….”

The clip ended and I was just so upset and angry at the fact that I walked into a trigger from the past.

“Nobody thinks I can do this…” I said with a sigh. “And it’s not like Luciana is wrong with how she broke me….”

I didn’t have anything else to think about as I heard my phone beep. I looked over and saw a text message from Jazmyn Rain, my best friend.

“Adrianna told me about the Barbwire Death Match thing…” she texted. “She told me about how you were extremely worried and frightened and how you were overwhelmed by the stipulation. You worried about this being your last chance or something? Myra, don’t be like that. Don’t give up…”

Heartbreakingly, I texted back “I already have…” to her.

“Your fears are making you do that…” she texted back. “Oh and there was this clip of Jayson and Luciana from PRW talking shit about you… IDK if you’ve seen it… but don’t listen to your fears. You CAN and you WILL do this! To win that match, you have to overcome your fears! PLEASE come by my place in Charlotte on Wednesday! Training ring! You know the drill! YOU! CAN! DO! THIS! Just because the stipulation isn’t in your favor doesn’t mean you can’t! Just because your fears are overwhelming you doesn’t mean you can’t! YOU *CLAP EMOJI* CAN *CLAP EMOJI* DO *CLAP EMOJI* THIS! PLEASE come! *three prayer hand emojis*”

My best friend was doing everything to encourage me.

“You’ve GOT TO BELIEVE!” she texted again! “You know the drill! BELIEVE!”

“Fine… I’ll see you Wednesday” I texted back.

“GOOD!” she texted back again. “”By the way, there will be a special guest! Hint: an old rival of yours from PRW. We are going to attack those fears of yours and have you believing in yourself more than ever before!”

Immediately, my mind was thinking Luciana Verdoza and this caused me to tremble a bit.

“Okay. I trust you.” I texted back. “Right now? I am NOT okay. I didn’t sleep well. You wouldn’t believe the crap I was dreaming about last night. It was HORRIBLE. I woke up full of tears and really sucked my pride out of me. I’m really  not okay at the moment…”

“Call me” she texted back, and I wasted no time in doing so. It was at this point where I began to REALLY let out what had happened the night before. I was at least feeling better as I talked about my prolonged anxiety attack that I had with Jazmyn over the phone. While things weren’t necessarily ‘okay’ just yet, at least I could go to the airport on that day knowing that the worst was over.

“That nightmare that I had last night…” I thought to myself after my phone call with Jazmyn ended. “...I don’t want that to be my future. I don’t want to be seen as a failure in SCW. I don’t want to be known as one of the best that never won the big one. I’ve always wanted to win one more world title but I fear that if I don’t win this time, I never will again. Jazmyn is right. In order to win, I have to overcome some old fears, some old traumas and pieces of my past that I have ran away from for so damn long…

I just wish I knew how.

Hopefully whatever Jazmyn has planned with whoever this ‘old rival’ is helps…”

September 1, 2021

I was definitely feeling nervous as I arrived at Jazmyn’s training ring that she had in Charlotte. I was ready to wrestle, as Jazmyn had warned me to be. We embraced each other and she gave me a warmer one than usual out of worry for my psychological well being. I definitely felt a warmth of appreciation about it.

“How are you holding up?” she asked with a concerned tone of voice.

“I am feeling better. I was just… I don’t want to talk about that nightmare anymore. The worst part of it was Kimberly screaming ‘I hate you’ at me over and over again.”

“I promise you, Myra, that when she’s 22 years old, she’s going to love you so much and appreciate everything that you’ve ever done for her and that’s whether you beat Amber at Violent Conduct or not, alright? Don’t go into this thing worrying about letting her, or anyone else down. Today is not going to be easy for you, but we’re going back to the beginning, where your insecurities all started.”

“Long time no see…” I heard a familiar voice of a woman say as she walked in. I turned to see a familiar face, not Luciana, but a woman named Victoria Salinas… the same woman that in PRW, took the mantle of ‘franchise face’ from me 10 years ago. I could only stand there in bewilderment as Jazmyn ran over to Victoria and they had a huge embrace. Both of them came in my direction. While I was happy that my ‘old rival’ I was seeing was Victoria and NOT Luciana, I couldn’t help but feel a measure of guilt that was growing within me the closer she got to me.

“Myra…” Victoria said, extending her hand to me. I nervously shook it. “How are you?”

“Nervous wreck. You?”

“Swell. I get why you’re nervous. I’ve heard from Jazmyn here everything that is going on.”

“Victoria, listen… I know we’ve never been friends. I will be woman enough to admit to you face to face that 10 years ago, in PRW, I treated you like crap, okay? I did so because I was jealous of you and I saw a young lady that was rising fast and was inevitably going to become the face of PRW with no way of me stopping it. I regret treating you the way I did back in PRW AND GCW and if there is a way that we can finally bury the hatchet and move forward, I would be glad to do so. I’m sorry, Victoria.”

“I appreciate the apology. You’ve changed. A lot. For the better. You really didn’t treat me well back then all because of this jealousy you had. Hell, I want to bury the hatchet with you too… but I am doing so on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“We have ourselves a special practice match right now and you face your fears that you were afraid of facing 10 years ago. First woman to hit their finishing move from 2011 wins.”

“Huh?”

“Myra…” Jazmyn begins to explain. “Like I told you, we are going back to the beginning of when these insecurities within you started. They all started with Victoria and when she beat you for HER first world title 10 years ago. I noticed a change in you after that happened. You went from being SO happy to being SO miserable and that’s because you never got over that. You are STILL dragged down from those insecurities that were born within you that night and if you want to beat Amber, you have to FACE THEM and BEAT THEM.”

“Alright…” I said, reluctant to do this as I rolled into the ring. Victoria followed suit as did Jazmyn who was set to officiate the whole thing. Jazmyn said go and Victoria and I locked up. Victoria quickly and easily shoved me into the corner. She gave me a quick elbow to the face  and then bulldogged me into the mat. She applied a headscissors on me and I was struggling with it. I was quick to grab the ropes and she broke the hold, but she got me up to my feet and gave me a snap suplex. She kicked me around the ring a bit and I was trying to scurry away from her and escape. I had no heart, nor fight, to go through with this and Victoria knew it. She started to get mad.

“You’re not fighting like you want it, Myra! COME ON! You don’t want it bad enough! This is just like when I beat you for the title…”

Trigger a flashback as she continued to beat me down…

January 25, 2011.

“That was my BEST MOVE!” I screamed at the referee after Victoria kicked out. “That had to be three!”

“It wasn’t…” the referee said.

“If my best move isn’t good enough…” I thought to myself…. “Then there is no way to stop Victoria. I’m not good enough to beat her. I’m not good enough to be what I want in wrestling…”

I remembered how I halfhearted the next few moments.

“I don’t want to deal with this anymore…” I thought to myself as I got Victoria up. Then she countered, wrapping my arms around my throat and then drilled me with a straightjacket neckbreaker slam. I was out for about five seconds, and during that time, she had taken my world title… and my dignity at that point… away from me.

To this day, the last time I’ve held a world title I won without shenanigans…

Back to the match…

“You know why you lost to Amber at Summer XXXtreme?” Victoria asked me as she placed me in a sleeper hold. “Because she wanted it more than you did. You worried too much about your failures because of the inferiority complex you’ve always had…”

Headlock takeover…

“She sensed the same fear in you that I did when I won the title from you. You were afraid of losing to someone you saw as your biggest competition, then and two months ago, and you let it take you over. You’re fighting like you’re afraid of me right now.”

Victoria picked me up and DDT’d me into the mat.

“When I faced you the second time, you did the same thing. You had your rematch, but your spirit was shaken…

Victoria put me in a cobra clutch…

Cue another flashback…

February 22, 2011

“I KNOW I CAN BEAT YOU!” I screamed at Victoria, hiding my obvious denial. “I’m NOT going to the back of the line because of YOU!”

I screamed this as Victoria was slowly getting up off the mat.

“I can’t fail… I don’t want to fail…” I thought to myself. She got up and I kneed her in the gut. Doubling her over, I set her up for the Rebel Bomb.

“I have to hit this… if I don’t, I am DONE!” I thought.

This fearful moment of hesitation caused Victoria to counter and break out of the hold I had her in. Then? My own arms cross wrapped around my throat.

Straightjacket neckbreaker slam.

And it was all she wrote.

Victoria beat me again…

Back to the match…

“Don’t get me wrong Myra…” Victoria stated as she was pummelling me in the corner. “At Summer XXXtreme, you were phenomenal and you were at your very best. But there were moments in that match where you doubted yourself. You were fearing the cost of failure just like you are again. She took advantage of your fear of failure just like I did the second time we fought. And as I dominate you right now, I am seeing that the fear is still there. So disappointing!”

Victoria nailed me with a springboard DDT.

“You still fear losing to me! You're on the verge of losing to her again because of a fear of the 'window closing', just like our 3rd encounter"

Triggered…

Right back to one last flashback…

March 29th, 2011

I was lying on the mat incredibly exhausted. My heart was shattered already and the match wasn’t even over. My spirit was torn to shreds. I was pulling myself up with the help of the ropes.

“Victoria really is the face of PRW now…” I conceded in my mind. “And what about me? What’s going to happen to me if I don’t beat her this time? I’m going to end up forgotten about. I am going to end up being seen as someone past her prime… at fucking 26 years old. PRW is going to move on from me and not even bother marketing me as a star anymore.”

I was almost to my feet again.

“Victoria is just too good right now and there’s no way I can win. I’ve thrown everything at her and it’s not enough. As soon as I’m up, I’m done for. She is so much better than me. I might as well accept that I won’t have another chance at the title or be anywhere near the level I’ve been at as long as she’s around…”

I finally got to my feet. I was pried off the ropes.

Then I fell victim to the straightjacket neckbreaker slam.

Again.

I lost to Victoria for the third time…

And just like I feared? My window to be world champion was gone. I was never PRW World Champion again and I never got close… not until Luciana two years after this…

And everyone knows what happened there…

Back to the match…

“Face your FEARS! Damn it!” Victoria said as she smacked me across the face. “FIGHT BACK! QUIT GIVING UP ON YOURSELF!”

More smacks across the face.

“Come on Myra, you’re better than this! FACE YOUR FEARS! WOMAN UP! TRY! Quit half-hearting it just like EVERY time you do in a huge match because of these stupid fears holding you back!”

After I didn’t say anything, Victoria sighed. I was going through that same motion again from 10 years back when she was pulling me up and cross wrapping my arms around my throat.

“It’s a good thing Kimberly isn’t here to see her mother fall to her fears… AGAIN.”

“No…” I said as I turned the whole move, and the narrative around, by breaking out of that hold and then planting her with a swinging neckbreaker. “...I am NOT going to let my fears turn me into a failure of a parent… or a WRESTLER for that matter…”

Victoria got up and I picked her up and scoop slammed her.

“I can beat ANYONE in this business if I set my heart and soul to it and believe in myself damn it, INCLUDING YOU, INCLUDING AMBER! I’m NOT going to be afraid of ANY rival I encounter ANYMORE!!!!!”

I was feeling a motivational adrenaline rush flood my soul. Victoria got up, but I hoisted her on my shoulders and nailed her with a hard, tornado fireman carry slam.

“I am NOT going to be AFRAID OF FAILURE! “FAILURE” is what made me as SUCCESSFUL as I have been in my career, ESPECIALLY IN SCW! FAILURE is what will make ME the next SCW World Champion!”

Victoria stood up again and I grabbed a hold of her and nailed her with my current Spirit Breaker finisher, which was not a finisher of mine 10 years ago.

“I determine when my window closes! I determine when I’m a main event contender! I determine my future! I’m the best I’ve EVER been and as long as I continue to do what I love to my heart’s content, to the best of my ability, as long as I’m around in SCW, my window of opportunity to be a world champion once more will NEVER close… even if Amber DOES beat me again! I am NOT going to let this fear DESTROY ME ANYMORE!”

I gave Victoria a hard knee to the ribs and then I lifted her up for the Rebel Bomb finisher I tried so hard to hit her with ten years ago.

“You’re DONE, Victoria!”

And with nothing but courage and the will to win, I nailed the Rebel Bomb… and I won our practice match.

“AWESOME MYRA! JUST AWESOME!” I heard Jazmyn scream with glee. She ran up to hug me, but the first thing I did was assist Victoria with getting back to her feet. She looked a bit sore, but she looked at me with some pride.

“If I didn’t let my fears hold me back… I could’ve won any of those matches against you, Victoria…”

“I agree. Give yourself credit, even with those fears weighing you down, you STILL pushed me to the absolute limit. You’ve done all these AMAZING things over the years with those anchors picking at your spirit. Imagine what you can do when those anchors are gone.”

“I’m seeing the light now…” I said with a smile. “I overcame those fears and I won against one rival…”

“And you can do the same thing at Violent Conduct…” Victoria reminded me. “By the way? Hatchet buried.”

Victoria and I embraced each other and now for the first time, I was beginning to feel like I had a chance to beat Amber for the world title, in SPITE of that stipulation.

“You’re going to be alright…” Victoria said to me. “No matter what happens at Violent Conduct, the brightest future ever for you is coming. At your age? Your prime isn’t ending, it’s just starting.”

“Thanks, Victoria. Coming from one of my best rivals ever, that really means the world to me!”

I knew what I had to do now.

I had to put my fears aside and go for it all. No more holding back, no more comfort zones, no more bracing for the worst.

I’m Myra fucking Rivers damn it!

And at Violent Conduct, I am definitely showing why I am one of the best women’s wrestlers in the world.

September 4, 2021

The camera was on in an unfamiliar setting and I was standing in a wide open indoor space that resembled an art museum. I was thinking a bit about the whirlwind that I had gone through over the last few years. My spirit felt like it was back and I could feel my soul brighten more than it ever has before. Summer XXXtreme was behind me when it came to any negative connotations or triggers that I had about it and I was feeling confident as I walked to a large hallway in this makeshift museum… holding a barbwire bat in my hands. It was time for me to truly pour out my heart and soul in a way I had never done so before.

“Amber, I am going to cut right to the chase with you. You beat me at Summer XXXtreme. You were the better woman. I make no excuses for it. Great job. Congratulations. I’m not going to stand here and make excuses for why I lost. I am not going to stand here and take away anything from your victory. You were simply better, even if it was just by the length of a nose. It was gutting for me, I’m not going to lie to you about that. The loss truly hurt me. I’ve always been one that has worn my heart on my sleeve and that heart on my sleeve was broken at Summer XXXtreme. So much for the inspirational story of winning one for my sister on my birthday, huh? But that’s alright Amber, because throughout my career, through hell and high water, I’ve always been able to put the pieces back together and fight another day. That’s what I am going to have to do now when it comes to Violent Conduct. I admit it, this match stipulation certainly brought some fears out of me. It’s not a match that I am accustomed to wrestling, but it sure as hell doesn’t mean that I can’t. I’ve won a death match or two throughout my long career. It doesn’t make me an expert at them, but I know that you’ve got that going for you as an advantage. I was a nervous wreck for days, fearing for the worst. I’ve been talking about how this might be my last chance for a while and how I don’t want to fail again.

But really Amber, I can’t be thinking like that. I’m giving this everything that I’ve got and I am going to warn you right now that I am going to be even BETTER than I was at Summer XXXtreme because let me tell you something, I’ve done a LOT of reflecting, a LOT of thinking, a LOT of working on myself psychologically to determine “what went wrong?’ I studied our match over and over again and I just couldn’t find an answer. So then the question shifted to “What did Amber do right?”. Then I thought about some of the words we exchanged going into that match. I thought about them and I admit that I messed up in some places with some of the things I said. Instead of focusing on ME and what I could do to win the match, I was focused on you and why I supposedly deserved to be world champion more than you do. I admit, that was my mistake. You took advantage of my mistake the way anyone would. Even though it was tough to admit to myself at first, especially after you brought it up in your second promo going into Summer XXXtreme, I had to sit down, I had to think LONG AND HARD and I had to admit to myself ‘Damn, she’s right. In many ways, I am insecure.’

I always had been… as much as I don’t want to admit that. And you were right about another thing too in the sense that I HAD been hanging on to certain events, and certain words and certain people’s actions and words toward me for too long. I DID beat the ‘degrading my accomplishments’ thing from Blast from the Past to death. I did hang on to that experience at the end with Ruby and Christina a little too long and it hit me that… I’ve got to let this go. Not just Blast from the Past… but every single horrible, heartbreaking loss that has ever happened to me where I’ve experienced that ‘so close, but so far’ feeling. And that’s what I am doing here tonight. Behind me? You see what I like to call my “Hall of Heartbreak”. And as you can see…”

I paused as I backed up into the hallway, next to a painting of Ruby Steele and Mark Cross celebrating their Blast from the Past victory at my expense.

“I’m DONE being afraid of my past and letting that define me…”

SMASH! CRASH!

My barbwire baseball bat severely punctured that painting.

“I am DONE letting FAILURES that I’ve endured break me down…”

I went a little further down the hall and I saw a painting of the last match I had in Carnage Wrestling, which was a loss in a world title match.

SMASH!

“I am done holding on to events that do not fucking matter anymore.”

To the other wall, there was a painting of my Ultraviolent Championship loss in Carnage Wrestling a couple of years back which I ripped off the wall, threw to the floor and smashed into pieces.

“I am DONE letting certain events and certain matches of my career make me AFRAID to leave my comfort zone…”

A couple of paintings of my main event failures in UWA were ripped off the wall, with one being smashed into bits in midair as if I was swinging for a home run and the other getting stabbed right through the center with the barbwire bat and then smashed through the floor.

“I am DONE letting HEARTBREAK be my ceiling of my full potential.”

A painting of my three consecutive losses to Victoria Salinas ten years ago was stabbed in the center with the barbwire bat, then became another smashed painting as I threw it against the opposite wall and allowed it to fall on the floor. I tightly gripped the bat, really liking the adrenaline rush that smashing all the heartbreaking remnants of my past was giving me.

“The more I thought about it and the deeper I dug, the more flaws I had seen within myself. The more I realized that no matter how much I preached a perfect dream world while I was the Bombshells Internet Champion, the more holes were in that world. These holes built up over time Amber, and you ripped every single one of those holes open. The only person that I have to blame for losing to you… is ME! I own it. I made gradual mistakes over time that I gradually overlooked because I was too focused on how “PERFECT” everything was as the Bombshells Internet Champion. I basked in that glow of that record breaking reign so much that I was blinded by it and I figured that what I had done with the championship had given me enough strength to beat you, but man was I wrong. I’m going to go back to the beginning, because the beginning was when I made my first mistake that cost me that match against you. You see, when I signed with SCW, I wasn’t thinking about being a world champion. I was just glad that I got one more chance in this business. I didn’t come in here seeking to be the best. I came in here with a “just happy to be here” attitude. It wasn’t INTENTIONAL, but in some ways, that mindset is complacent. How in the world could I have wanted that match more than you if I had that mentality? I made that mistake because inside, I didn’t feel like I was good enough to get to a world title level and I feared that if I went for it, I’d have my heart stomped out of me just like I had so many times before.

I didn’t come in here chasing the crown jewel because I was too afraid of failure. I didn’t do enough against you last time because of that fear. You’re not wrong, Amber. That Internet Championship was my comfort zone and it was my security blanket. I own that and I know that was a mistake on my part. Once I knew I was capable of more, I should’ve gone for it. I should have gone for the World Championship the moment I beat YOU last year because the fact of the matter is, the moment I beat you, I was ready to be chasing the world title and perhaps that’s what I should’ve done but instead, I went for Kate Steele and the Internet Championship. I am proud of what I did with that reign, don’t get me wrong on that. But you’re right, I DID get too comfortable. I did become too satisfied with just being the Internet Champion. However, what I AM going to say that is WRONG with some of the stuff that you said is that I went for the world title just because you had it and really, Amber, that could not be further from the truth. I had my sights set on the World title the moment I really DID realize I was good enough to go after it and that would be the Blast from the Past tournament. Had Christina won that title, I still would’ve gone for it and done whatever the hell it took. Had Ruby beaten you for that title, hell, had ANY of your challengers beaten you for that title throughout this whole time I would’ve gone for it.

You shed some light on some things that I didn’t even realize were going on with me, almost as if you knew me better than I knew myself. This isn’t to say you were one hundred percent right on everything you said about me, but I am going to warn you right now that shedding light on those things is going to be a mistake that YOU are going to regret because yeah, I did what I do, I took those things to heart, but instead of cry about them and say ‘you’re wrong, you’re wrong, you’re mean, you’re wrong’, I owned up to them and I have taken every single flaw that I had going into that match and I have done my absolute best to improve upon every single one of them. I lost to you because I was afraid. I lost to you because I would not let go. I lost to you because I allowed the words of people from the past, yes, even yours, to embitter me to a certain degree. I allowed my past experience to create a fear within me that kept me in my comfort zone and damn it, Amber, I am DONE being a victim of that fear and a victim of my past. This match that we have is the PERFECT ‘outside my comfort zone’ experience for me and I’m not going into this thing worrying about the worst anymore. That may have been me at Summer XXXtreme to a certain degree, but god damn it, that's not going to be me again!

I KNOW in my heart that I am the reason why I haven’t been a world champion in a long time. I know in my soul that I am the reason why I haven’t hit 20 overall championships in my career yet. I have done NOTHING but let fear and insecurity anchor me and hold me down from my full potential  and you want to say that my best won’t be good enough and you want to say that my best will never be good enough all you want to but I KNOW you’re fucking wrong… and that’s the ONE thing I am going to say that you’re wrong about not just because of the fact that NOBODY and NOTHING besides me gets to define me… but because the fact of the matter is  I have accomplished EVERYTHING in my career, all 19 overall career championships, from my four world titles to all the accolades I’ve had in other companies, to my record reign as the Bombshells Internet Champion, ALL while holding myself down.

Others may see that as a weakness, but the reality is, Amber, that is a STRENGTH.

That SHOWS what I am able to do DESPITE my fears and insecurities taking hold of me. It makes me strong enough to gain enough perspective to evolve and be stronger and better and it’s THAT perspective that gives me the ABILITY to win a match like this against someone of YOUR caliber. I am a STRONGER WOMAN and a BETTER WRESTLER today because you beat me at Summer XXXtreme and I don’t see that loss as a curse or a heartbreak anymore. Hell, all the ‘heartbreaks’ I shattered to let go of my past? They were all, in every way, moments that were supposed to teach me this perspective and for YEARS I was too stubborn to realize it or accept it so every single time I came up to a match like what we had two months ago? I kept psychologically caving and focusing SO MUCH on the heartbreaks and the negatives behind them when there was so much GOOD all along to come from them. A barbwire match may not seem like something that is up my alley because I’m not the ‘violent type’. I may not have endured the physical scars that you have over the years, and I get that. However…

I took a final pause and walked toward an art display of a giant heart that was bruised, stitched, bandaged, broken in certain places and yes, even had pieces of barbwire sticking out of them.

“Over the years? So many people, including you, have already scarred me psychologically by figuratively driving that barbwire into my heart. I am going to scar after this, I know that. It’s going to hurt, but I know I can endure that pain because it was enduring ALL of the heartbreak and ALL of the pain that I’ve been through that makes me STRONG ENOUGH TO DO SO! My heart has been torn apart and put back together more times than I can count and I ran away from that for years and years, but the reason why I know in my scarred heart that I am going to beat you this time is because instead of running away from all of it now… I’m EMBRACING IT. I lost this main event match in PRW and that main event match in Carnage. So what? I got through it. I became stronger and better out of it. You beat me at Summer XXXtreme, and that’s going to make me stronger and better. Losing that match is the best thing that could’ve happened to me and it was something that NEEDED to happen for me to finally get it. I’m not afraid of this stipulation. I’m not afraid of losing to you again. I am not afraid of what may or may not happen after Violent Conduct.

I am not afraid of my flaws anymore, nor my former moments that I hung onto for years and years. I’m done being scared, Amber. I am no longer going to be that old veteran that was just ‘happy to be here and whatever happens, happens.’ No Amber, I know what I am capable of now and I am NOT going to stop chasing your world title until I have it because there is no fucking way in hell I am going to retire without winning that title at least once! There is no way in hell I am going to let any internal hidden fears define me and hold me back. I’m here in Sin City Wrestling NOW to be the best and to be the World Champion. I am here now to capitalize on a full potential that until I got here, I didn’t even know I had. You don’t get to tell me that “it’ll never be enough” because now that I have overcome so many of my old fears that were created by events that I should’ve never allowed to scar me to begin with, I KNOW that SOMEDAY, it WILL be enough…

And that SOMEDAY?

It WILL be Violent Conduct.

It WILL be your reign ending at my hands not because you’re not good enough, but because I WILL be better… not just better than I was at Summer XXXtreme, but better than YOU because I KNOW that I can be, I know that I will be, and it’s about damn time I stop accepting less than what I know I am worth and I am willing to DIE on that hill at Violent Conduct. You can take that and you can criticize it all you fucking want to and you can turn it into whatever warped opinion you want to Amber, but the fact of the matter is, that is my own truth that I believe in and I will never stop believing in that even if you beat me. I’m not afraid of going through hell to get that title anymore. I’m not afraid of YOU or your WORDS or whatever bullshit you want to say about me because I don’t need to validate myself to you, nor to anyone else because I know what my truth is, I know what I’m capable of, I know me more than anyone else knows me, I define me!

At Violent Conduct, you’re going to get a champion that you’ve never faced before and those words of ‘it’ll never be enough” are words you are going to live to regret because when it’s all over? I AM proving those words wrong…

Not because I want to… not because I need to… because in either instance, I don’t…

But because I CAN…

And NOBODY, not even YOU, can tell me otherwise

NOTHING, not even a loss at Violent Conduct, can change that.

Because at the end of the day Amber? Come Violent Conduct?

I AM ENOUGH!

I WILL BE ENOUGH!

And it will BE ENOUGH when I am closing out the show with a career long dream FINALLY realized!

I gave a cut signal to the camera and the camera shut off. I glanced at the heart I stood by that represented me, then looked in the distance.

There was one more painting that I didn’t shatter…

The painting that showed me suffering that horrific loss to Luciana Verdoza in the world title match in PRW eight years ago…

“It’s time to face that head on now…”

With those final words, I walked through the “Hall of Heartbreak” I destroyed without looking back, signaling that I had truly healed from my past and was becoming stronger than ever going into Violent Conduct.

[DistortedAngel]

“Whoever said violence never solved anything doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Violence is the only language some people understand. Not that I’m fluent, but I know enough to get by.”
― Timothy S. Miller






Undisclosed Church
Somewhere in Southern California
01.06.2009
9:41pm




Alistair McCrae was a simple enough man.

Shrewd in his dealings and fiercely devout in his faith, to a man like him money wasn’t worth as much as the allegiance of those willing to stand by their word and alongside their faithful- although it sure as fuck didn’t hurt either.
This particular church, among others in the area had seen recent facelifts and restorations from the depths of McCrae’s pockets- many a newspaper article and online posting had shown the man himself among those pitching in time and effort. He’d told anyone who asked that he was simply giving back to a community that had been so generous with their hearts and their time- that much of this came from the donations of the pious and ardent of his flock.

Of course, the truth had a funny way of being a little twisted in the smaller details.

Despite being arguably a self-made man, much of the money had come from donations- except those ‘donations’ were more akin to payments for services rendered and for exchanges of product. Alistair McCrae himself never handled these transactions of course, for the exchange of money to be seen passing through his hands would surely poison the image he’d cultivated so carefully and sown so thoroughly through the tangled mess of roots called society.
For what and when- there were no traces linking back to the McCrae name, a big enough and more importantly loyal enough congregation could conceal all manner of business dealings. None of which, should they be uncovered accidentally or otherwise could potentially link back harmfully. For all intents and purposes- the man was a fucking saint in the flesh, a modern Mother Theresa if she were the type to throw out the dollars for stonework and stained glass.

Amber, for what little McCrae had led on about his business dealings, couldn’t fault the man- even in the cramped semi-office space he’d from a long unused storage room that the three of them had quietly piled into what felt like hours before. Dominic actively engaged with him at every given opportunity, nodding before sentences were completed and agreeing whole-heartedly despite having told the redhead beside him the complete opposite opinion merely hours before.
First impressions were key, and Del Gado was determined to make his matter… while Amber watched hers in the wrestling community slowly slipping between her fingers.

“... and while this is all fanciful talk, I have to ask just what it is you think you can offer our flock that we may not already receive from another generous donor.”

Glacial, as though impervious to smoke blowing, McCrae leaned across his desk slightly with an intrigued smile.

“Quite simply---”

“I wasn’t asking you.”

Amber wasn’t aware she was being personally addressed until the room fell into an awkward silence- broken only by her racing pulse as it seemed like the temperature had gone up 10 degrees in an instant. Dominic gave her a wary side-eye, both of them intimately aware that this perceived role-reversal hadn’t been accounted for- after all, Dominic had always been the pitch man, his sticky charisma seemingly enough to capture attention long enough to be given a chance to prove more- while Amber… well, her role had become less and less distinct as time had worn on.

“Discretion...”

Coming out more as a croak, she caught a glimpse of Dominic’s eyes narrowing, his brow furrowing slightly with visible indignation of being passed over. McCrae in the meantime, and seemingly oblivious to the display of skin that she continually tried to account for by gently tugging her spaghetti straps occasionally, softened his expression with a curious squint.

“... and loyalty. While I can appreciate that your flock might be strong and devoted, it takes only one bad apple to spoil the bunch. Minimizing the chance of a bad apple greatly increases your ability to trust the whole.”

It was all bullshit spewed on a whim, barely able to stop herself from stuttering Amber straightened up slightly as though trying to correct her hindsight's posture. She’d talked a lot of shit in wrestling- mostly just viciously idle threats and off-color analogies cause that seemed to get her noticed, mostly for the wrong reasons. However this, no, this felt different- lying through her teeth never tingled through her skin, double-dealing never set her nerves alight and misremembering facts never gave her quite the endorphin hit...
Maybe it was simply the electricity that radiated through the room or maybe… just this once… she wasn't actually lying.

“Ah… Luke 16:10: If you are faithful in little things, you will be faithful in large ones. But if you are dishonest in little things, you won’t be honest with greater responsibilities.”

Intimately aware of the shift in the power dynamic, McCrae rattled off the quote with relative fondness.

“You’re an astute young lady Ms Ryan. Given a push in the right direction, you could accomplish some… interesting things.”

A lingering inflection on the word ‘interesting’ left Amber hanging by her fingernails, part of her wanted to tell him that she already had outside interests and that her partnership with Dominic was one purely for each of their own personal gain- that she really was capable of something… anything more than just a sight for sore eyes.
She really could be great, she could be more… just given a chance.

Except the words never came, the sound dying long before it ever touched her lips leaving her only to manage a weakly appreciative smile and glance away in shame that she couldn't bring herself to speak candidly when it mattered.

Just a chance…

She’d do anything…

Hell, she’d already done anything.

Everything.

Just to get… here.

Just to get here and to be in this position right now, scrambling for something remotely significant to add to a conversation that hung like a heavy smog between the trio. Desperation, that's what this was, trying to find a way out from a hole she’d contentedly been digging until a bigger and newer hole was started just a little further along the path…

“Allow me the opportunity to think about it. Expect a call, I’m sure I can find something suitable to you - how can I put this- expertise, shall we say?”

Scraping his chair across the floor, the screech barely even registered with Amber until McCrae was almost half way out the door, with Dominic trailing and excitedly thanking the Reverend for his hospitality and all the such affiliated smoke blowing. To think, Amber brooded while slowly finding her feet as Dominic disappeared like a lost puppy seeking approval from a neglectful master, she’d given up a spot on a show for this… for Dominic… for the guy tripping over himself to get noticed.

If she weren’t so frustrated, she might have laughed.

At least some good came of it though…

Amber emerged into the nave as McCrae broke off a vigorous handshake with an almost reptilian smile, a passing glance of curiosity settled on her for a moment before the Reverend excused himself back to other far more important duties.

“Un-fucking-believable”

Dominic murmured quietly, more so to himself than anyone intended to hear it, as his hands fidgeted nervously. Gears ticked over as Amber cautiously approached, unsure whether to prepare for an explosion or a mental breakdown.

“Can you believe this? Come, now…”

Without even pausing for breath or asking, Dominic grabbed Amber’s wrist firmly before almost dragging her out of the church forcibly ignoring the fact that her stilettos seemed to catch on every carpet snag and her dress hiking up so high she could feel a faint breeze dance just below the crease of her buttocks. Stumbling out onto the front steps, visibly unimpressed, Amber tried to straighten herself up as Dominic seized her face and forcibly laid a kiss on her forehead- long before she could get her hands away from the hem of her dress to defend against the sudden affectionate onslaught.

“Oh, that is such a relief… We actually just did that.”

We.

It wasn’t lost on Amber for a moment that suddenly they were a ‘we’ as in plural, as in more than the singularity that was Dominic Del Gado and whoever he took up with that week. Biting her tongue, Amber swallowed her pride in favor of finding a reason to be excited- after all, maybe it was worth missing just the one show… she’d have other opportunities, even if it meant working a little harder or digging a little deeper.

“Yeah…we… I mean, it's a great opportunity, right? Getting to prove ourselves on that next level…”

Dominic scoffed, cutting off the growing momentum of her train of thought, before placing a hand on her lower back patronizingly.

“Sweet girl, you’re still thinking small time. All that nonsense wrestling stuff might have muddled your wires a little- but we aren’t just in this to be someone's minions. No one does anything with the intention of being second best- my father impressed upon me early that if you aren't the best then you need to do everything in your power to change that. Consequences can be dealt with later, fallout is for those afraid of success- fact is Red, you can’t be the best if you’re sitting beneath someone else's thumb.”

Click. Clack. Stilettos on concrete, her gait wobbled as Dominic pressed his hand into the small of her back a little more firmly as though intentionally creating more distance between them and the place of worship.

“... but I told McCrae---”

“... and it was brilliant. We are moving into position, not to be under his thumb- but to remove it from his hand entirely and cement ourselves as more than just Del Gado Snr’s little boy, more than just another pretty girl trying to play latex-clad badass bitch #4.
We have an opportunity to prove that we belong… you wanna belong, don’t you?”

She’d never heard Dominic speak so earnestly, and if it weren’t for the fact that he was openly planning to exploit possibly the one good thing she might have done in god knows how long- she’d have almost believed every word. Spinning her to face him, his hands firmly gripped at her waist and his eyes locked down on hers- there was a spark in his eyes, one that threatened to burn them both alive and yet somehow, she’d already fallen in love with the heat.

“We could potentially be getting handed the keys to the kingdom, darling… It'd be almost criminal if we didn’t use them.”








******




“What constitutes being ‘good enough’?

Is it something we base solely on achievement and recognition, or perhaps it's simply a state of mind we will ourselves into when the odds start stacking up against us. Believe in yourself and you can achieve anything right? We’re told that all our lives from people we presume know well enough that all we have to do is have faith and to work hard. Trust that the universe will reward you for everything you put out into it…
Some people need to be told this, they need to be constantly validated by everyone around them for fear that house of cards will come tumbling down at the first sign of a stiff breeze, repeating a mantra like their career truly depends on uit working. Others simply have such a confidence naturally- regardless of whether it's true or otherwise, spewing propaganda out into the world in hopes that they might create an infection of concussive arrogance.

Where is that line drawn though- and who gets to make that decision?

You’ve told everyone a lot that you believe you are Myra, and I find that almost as admirable as it is conceited- determined to will something into existence and have that just pay off cause being the World Champion is a result of just being ‘good enough’. ‘Good enough’ to beat me, ‘good enough’ not to disappoint everyone you’ve hyped around you again, ‘good enough’ to force yourself into a title picture that never needed you in it.

Truth is, you just want to belong. Be seen for what you really are, right?
You wanna be at the top of the mountain cause you know the world has no choice but to accept you, but to look up and recognize you as something you aren’t. Talk after talk after fucking talk Myra- layer upon layer of self-aggrandizing absolute bullshit that does nothing but build this fortress of pity for you to retire into once you realize that going on the defensive only means it just takes longer for you to lose.
It doesn’t matter how much you tell yourself otherwise- you think you deserve this, and I’ll be straight up with you, at Summer XXXtreme maybe you did… You made me step my game up another level cause I wasn't ready to be known as a ‘former’, cause I wasn’t prepared to watch my hard work get thrown overboard in favour of someone else's storybook journey.

Yeah, you had my respect. You very well could have won- but you were against me… and that's why you lost.

I mean you obviously have your own opinions on that, which is fine. They’re wrong, but it's fine. I’m never gonna be the one to tell people not to lie to themselves if that's what it takes to close some emotional wounds- after all, our whole industry is built on trying to avoid the truth at all costs.
We lie to our friends and families telling them that we aren’t absolutely terrified of what barbed wire and explosives can do to human flesh, we lie to our doctors that we don't hurt as much as we do cause we know it means standing on the sidelines watching someone else pass us by. We lie to ourselves that we can do things that were never meant for us…
In the end, lying comes as naturally as breathing…

Fact is, the truth sucks. It hurts and it just leaves everyone worse off than where they started.

However, when I walked into this company I made it my damn business to be truthful, to be honest with everyone I matched up against cause I didn’t wanna be the one fuelling fantasies of grandeur or giving people a boost only for their inevitable fall to be from a greater height.
I’ll stand here and tell people what I consider the truth- regardless who I hurt along the way, maybe that makes me a fucking asshole, but in the end it's my goddamn job to expose what makes people tick and dismantle them for their own good.

That's what makes me good enough Myra.

That's what makes me World Bombshells Champion.

And that's what will keep me there.

Maybe that makes me a little sicker than your average, but sweetheart I absolutely had to be to get where I am, I embrace it with all its flaws and consequences. To stand atop that mountain, you have to be a little sadistic- to want this belt you have to accept all the good and the bad that comes with it. That's what everyone seems to forget around here- being the World Champion isn’t about just carrying a belt and taking some nice photos for a glossy magazine- it's about never seeing your friends or family cause you have publicity commitments, about missing important life events cause theres a show or a flight you’ll miss if you stay five minutes too long anywhere.
It's about being the most judged person on that roster, your every move and word criticised cause it's not ‘representative’ of the company, despite the fact the same people applauded the same thing against a different person. It's about being looked at as an outcast, walking around with a fuck off target on your back cause everyone wants what you have- it's not about goals and dreams, it's about all the heartbreaks you’re willing to accept.

I’m where I am cause I’m the one not willing to accept anything less.

Time after time I’ve proven I’m willing to go further than anyone else for this belt, and this match is no exception- I welcome it, not because it's in my proverbial ‘wheelhouse’, but because it's a proving ground. It's an opportunity to show just how badly you really want it- cause you can tell the world what it means, but that means fuck all until you go out there and show it.
You don’t have to beat me Myra, that's the important thing here- you have to outlast me… just to even walk away.
You aren’t the long haul type- you like clean and decisive, you’ve staked your career on being effective with minimal time and effort, you lack my grit and determination. You rarely ever had to scratch and claw in the same way just to be noticed, only having to fight for survival once you were truly established and chasing gold… I had to do the same thing just to get in the fucking door.
Regardless of how much you back yourself Myra- this match isn’t just a decision, this isn’t just some ‘get in, get out scenario. Fact is, the longer this match goes- the more it favours me, not because I’m better, but because I have more I’m willing to give.

Thing is, in all of this- all the talk, all the bluster and bullshit Myra- you still haven’t been able to admit that you’d be willing to sacrifice anything. For you it's about everything you stand to gain rather than what's worth losing to make it there.
To you- I’m just someone to beat, someone standing in the way of your grand tear-jerking celebration that you are just DYING to have, I’m just someone blocking your path on the way to what you feel like you truly DESERVE when all you’ve done along the way is complain that you haven’t got there yet.

I’ll admit I’m tired of hearing about what you think you deserve, cause the truth is… you deserve a reckoning. All you’ve ever done is try to make these matches about you- about everything you have done, everything you want, everything you think you’ve been through…
It's not fucking about you Myra, and that's the lesson you don’t seem to be learning in all of this.
You are not the be-all-end-all of this company, you are not nearly the best and you don’t really deserve this opportunity- yet here you are singing the same song, dancing the dance and expecting literally anyone on this roster to believe that you want this more than I do.
Every week- it's about you. You made that Internet title about you and look what happened to it, you took it's identity and plastered it across your own like some facsimile of a personality- news flash though, being a fucking champion isn’t just a personality trait.

You had your shot at Summer XXXtreme and the first opportunity you got- you told everyone you weren’t going to make excuses, and then you went out and listed every reason why you didn’t win. Now you’re doing it for this match preemptively- claims that your deathmatch experience is limited, that this match favours me… That's never stopped anyone before. No one is just inherently good at these matches.
I’ve lost to Roxi before in a Street Fight, that's the exact type of match that favours me- and with a few cheap shenanigans and the sheer bullish will to win, she managed to do something that was otherwise believed impossible.
Maybe if you stopped the ‘woe is me’ for two minutes Myra, you’d actually realize all you have to do is go out and prove you want this title more than me… I mean you won’t cause you absolutely don’t want it more, but it's nice to consider your options.

I guess that's the difference between us Myra- I can switch gears, I can look inside myself and know that should I need to throw my morals to the wind, I have the capacity to do so and not blink an eye. I can shift from being the straight up striker putting girls down with a sick left hand, to spitting fire and thumbtacks on a fucking dime. I can tell you I respect you one day- then the next put you in the morgue and not shed a tear while they’re identifying whatever remains I let them have.
While I have this title- I’ll be whoever I need to be to keep it, and I won’t apologize for that.
Fact is myra- I’ve got no mercy left to be doling out, no fucks left to give cause you chose this Myra, you chose violence the moment you opened your fucking mouth to come at me again.

… and frankly you gave up your right to respect the second you made this Violent Conduct main event solely about you.”




******



Unnamed Radio Station
Anchorage, AK
09.09.2021
7:14am





Business casual, she’d been told, yet everyone was wearing jeans.

Overdressed to impress Amber deliberated, putting in a damn effort for nobody to see. Typical really,  as Amber made a mental note to bring this up next time management wanted her to act more ‘professionally’ as though going out to the ring every time asked and making magic from the mundane wasn’t quite enough to fulfil her obligations. Another publicity event, another cog in the eternal hype machine that was Sin City Wrestling.
In truth she knew it was simply par for the course, there were dues to be paid as champion and the last five and a half months had been no exception- after all, she was representing an entire organization just by carrying the belt slung over her right shoulder. Besides, maybe little smart dressing every once in a while certainly wouldn’t kill her.

Initially Amber had been reluctant to bring the title with her, it was a symbol deserving to be glorified on a grand stage rather than some prop to prove her legitimacy. Validation was for parking tickets and insecurities- she’d long since passed the point of worrying about opinions and trying to please people when in reality no one really knew what they wanted until it was in the rearview.

“Ms Ryan, it is an absolute pleasure.”

Without a moment to comprehend the sudden conversational interlude- assertive yet lively for the time of morning, likely riding the immediate high of a fresh cup of coffee, a young woman brightly offered up a hand, to which Amber reflexively accepted.

“Oh my, you really do have quite the grip. Please, come this way…”

Almost sheepishly, Amber withdrew her hand from the embrace as the woman set off briskly. Shorter than the redhead, even in kitten heels, and with a blonde ponytail swaying with every step- she started pulling away from Amber as windows in doors gave brief glimpses of microphones and mixing tables.
With a fond recall and cheeky smile, Amber remembered a time when she’d been told she had a face for radio by some deadbeat nobody opponent with a lack of originality and less talent between the ropes. At the time she’d been offended, now she couldn’t help but admit he was right- if only because now she was a world beating company woman instead of a part-time grocery bagger with a weekend proclivity for wrestling.

“... I must admit, a lot of us have been eagerly anticipating your arrival. You have quite the preceding reputation if you don’t mind me saying.”

Whether Amber minded was irrelevant as the young woman, who had introduced herself as one of the producers in passing between quick breaths and clacking footsteps. Words like that were always foreboding and expectation was a dangerous thing- hell, before she’d even said a word there had been a value placed on her tongue. Stopping before one of the many doors, Amber could make out a number of people in clustered groups between what appeared to be a split room- half occupied by a table and microphones suspended in front of seats, the other filled with more moving parts than a Stephen King novel. Mixing tables and meters with flashing lights and numbers, it was all quite overwhelming and Amber found herself briefly relieved at the fact she was going to be on the slightly less complicated side of things.

“Just a word before you go in there…”

Hesitation seeped between syllables, the young female producer seemingly measuring her words carefully. Amber readjusted her belt in the midst of the pause, their presence starting to attract the attention of a few of the bodies beyond the door with furtive and excited glances.

“Ollie and Andy are great guys, honestly. They are our most listened to show, bar none…”

“... but…”

There was always a but, always a prerequisite, always something to be guarded against although the faint little smile that curled at the edge of the producers lips betrayed a little more than perhaps she presumed she was letting on.

“... but, Ollie likes to think of himself as edgy and controversial. In reality, he’s just kind of an ass. Andy does a great job of dampening him- the mans practically a saint around here for what he deals with. Ollie is just… he thinks he’s cool and hip, wears a baseball cap backwards unironically if you get my drift. He wants a reaction at any cost- and we’ve had our fair share of issues when guests don’t come to ‘play’.”

Allowing the producer's commentary to hang in the air, Amber contemplated for a moment.

“Are you asking me if I came to play…”

Another small smile, this one more deliberate as the producer idly played with the ends of her ponytail.

“I’m telling you that the audio is going out live and we aren’t stopping the show for anything short of a bloodbath.”

If that wasn’t permission, Amber wasn’t sure what would be. Following closely as the producer entered the table-occupied room- two men joined from the otherside, both casually dressed in jeans and button down shirts. Mid thirties she guessed, one married judging by a gold wedding band while the other ruffled his hair slightly with some of the perspiration that had collected on his brow.

“You know…”

Ollie, with ruffled hair and a shirt too loud for such a confined space, spoke first although chose not to approach.

“I thought you’d be bigger, you know… in person.”

In a voice that sounded an octave higher than it should have, grating slightly with a mid sentence inflection Ollie regarded her curiously, the obvious up and down as though expecting someone more akin to a supermodel instead of whatever the redhead was. Meanwhile, in her peripheral vision, Amber could spot the producer giving her a look- although the redhead couldn’t quite determine if it was an ‘I told you’ or ‘I’m perfectly okay with you murdering this man on the spot’ look yet.

“Like that amazon looking woman, what's her name… I dunno, I saw her on a poster or something.”

With a commiserating look, apologizing in advance, Andy stepped forward for a brief handshake exchange.

“Don’t mind him, we really appreciate you coming by for a chat. It's not often we see events like this, especially given the state of world affairs currently.”

With a vague gesture, Andy offered her a seat as Ollie eyed the Bombshells World title studiously.

“Do you mind if I…”

Graciously, Amber slipped the belt down off her shoulder gently to account for the weight before carefully laying it across Ollie’s outstretched hands, for whatever convoluted reason though he doesn't anticipate the weight and almost immediately drops the belt before Amber intervenes with a scowl.

“Shit, that thing is heavy. I thought you just got like a replica to carry around or is this just a special occasion.”

A tinge of red flooded his cheeks as Ollie quickly backed off to the opposite side of the table while Amber quietly shifted the belt back onto it's favoured resting place, momentarily revelling in its weight and it's supposed surprise factor.

In the next room, the producer made eye contact with the men diligently.

Three fingers.

Two.

Amber inhaled sharply.

One.

“It’s 7:30am and it's another beautiful day in Anchorage- which can  only mean one thing- it's Andy and Ollie coming to you live for another breakfast show. Today, we have a highly anticipated guest- everyone around here has been absolutely buzzing about the Sin City Wrestling Supercard show this Sunday, and joining us for a quick chat will be one of the two women headlining that very show…”

Smooth and professional- Andy’s tone changed on the fly from genuinely neighborly yet distant to warm and charismatic, like the crackling of an open fire translated into vocalities.

“Absolutely- and we can confirm she's a beautiful as she is potentially dangerous. I’d hate to run into her in a dark alley, unless that alley was right outside my apartment…”

Asinine and just a little chauvinistic.
Bleh.
Feigning anything but disgust, Amber internally recoiled. Perhaps the warning hadn’t been quite enough, the disclaimer covering the barest minimum of details. Still, she had a reputation to uphold on behalf of people far more professionally inclined. Channeling her inner ‘Mac’, she politely smiled and swallowed the venom collecting at the back of her tongue.

“It is our pleasure to welcome to the show this morning- the Sin City Wrestling World Bombshell's Champion, Ms Amber Ryan!”

At this stage, she expected the canned applause, or some kind of manufactured effect to fill the dead air she'd left lingering between them- the idea of being conversational in such an impersonal way was far more confronting than she’d anticipated.

“A pleasure to be here”

Lying through softly gritted teeth, Amber smiled politely in hopes that they couldn’t tell she was already regretting ever having accepted this interview.

“Now this Sunday, you face arguably one of your biggest challenges to date as champion in the form of now two-time opponent Mary Rivers.”

Perhaps he was trying to be funny, mispronouncing like it was a gimmick or intentionally trying to hype her up as though she needed the help- however she quickly realized that it was simple, deliberate ignorance as Andy whispered feverishly towards Ollie that he’d fucked up the opponents name. Part of her wanted to laugh, the other half almost felt sorry for whoever had to deal with the consequences of the 20 minute rant Myra would no doubt wanna have at the supercard, about being slighted by some douchebag shock jock.

“Yeah, I’ve never really been a big fan of trying to categorize my opponents if I’m honest… Everyone brings their own unique challenge and finding a way to overcome them is what keeps me motivated. Myra has been an exceptional force- but everyone can be stopped, it's just a matter of how.”

Oh god, even as the words left her lips she could feel the tingle through every nerve. A simulation of everything she’d once loathed in paper champions determined to be valiant and moral- in truth she didn’t feel much that way at all, people like Ruby and Jessie hadn’t exactly been threats and Alicia was never the opponent she’d packaged herself as. Trying to compare opponents wasn't like apples and oranges anymore than it was like comparing oranges and straight up trash.

“This match you have coming up is a prime example of that stopping power as well, is it not? I believe it's an exploding barbie doll…”

“It's an exploding barbed wire death match. Barbie dolls were a different match the other week I think, I tend to avoid all the pink and glitter- I find it too hard to get out of my reputation.”

Levity was trickier than anticipated in the face of a certain premeditated ignorance. It didn't stop her trying, but it did make swallowing more of that rising venom harder, more bitter, more potent stinging the back of her throat.

“Yeah, but that's all just fake right? I mean, you don’t actually go out there and… you know”

Amber stifled an acerbic chuckle, the flood of toxic retorts bubbling on the edges of her tongue.

“No, I don’t know. I mean, if you’re aware of some kind of ‘safety’ barbed wire that we could get ahold of- I’d love to hear about it. Would save a lot of people some serious time and hassle…”

Unwilling to reign in her tone, Amber caught sight of some eagerly exchanged glances being shared and whispers murmured under breaths.

“Seriously though- do you know what it's generally used for? Corralling and containing livestock, property security… It's a deterrent as much as it's an effective stopper. It's designed to catch in clothing, it's designed to rip and tear at anything that gets caught in its grasp. I’d have brought some in with me, but apparently walking through downtown Anchorage with a roll of barbed wire tends to make a girl look a little erratic… Explosives are the same, you don’t just fake those things and they sure as fuck… can I say fuck… I suppose I already did… don’t tickle.”

Resting her forearms on the tabletop, Amber gauged both men curiously before continuing when the dead air remained unclaimed between them.

“Let me ask you both a question- what's the most painful thing you’ve ever stepped on, what's the worst pain you’ve ever endured?
Or tell me this, have you ever been hit with a baseball bat, let alone one wrapped with barbed wire… Have you ever fallen 10 plus feet from a ladder- hell, have you ever been on fire?
I’m sure it must be easy to question the legitimacy of what we do when you’re cooped up all safe and warm in a studio watching from a distance- but let me explain this to you… I have basically been shredded alive, I’ve been burned repeatedly and beaten with every blunt object you can fathom, I’ve probably lost more blood than you’ve drank beer…”

Her words trialed with a hiss as they remained silent, perhaps trying to comprehend the sheer destructive effects of such mortifying events.

“I have been cut and stabbed by friend and foe alike. I have had thumbtacks stuck in my tongue, broken teeth and been partially blinded. Hell, I’ve been thrown off a fucking scaffold through glass tables then brushed myself off like a goddamn hellspawn asshole- cause I wasn’t gonna let some asshole say they were better than me. I have lived and I have died between those ropes for titles that meant less than this one, so don’t ever sit there and let me hear you question the legitimacy of what we do… Frankly I’ve been through hell far too many times to be questioned about what the temperature is like there at this time of year.”

Venomously, Amber narrowed her glare as though inviting recourse.

“That's… that's quite a lot. Certainly a storied career, and without question I will likely be having nightmares about all of those things tonight.”

Amber forced a chuckle to lighten the mood, however Ollie had already gone sallow and pale- like the kid debating whether it was worth making a run to the bathroom before they threw up… and always losing the gamble.

“Allow me to be real blunt- we don’t do this cause we like the violence… I don’t enjoy waking up and not being able to walk 20 feet without having to stop for a breather, I don’t like hearing my joints crackle and pop when I try to stand up. I have no doubt lowered my life expectancy by decades just to call myself World Champion, so another exploding barbed wire deathmatch… another storied opponent looking to steal the crown off my head before my body has gone cold… Its just another bloody fucking Sunday”

Drumming her fingers on the tabletop, Amber's smile twitched and the wrinkle in her nose deepened.

“I don’t expect you to understand what we’re going to go out there and do- all I want from you is to watch… Watch and remember this. History is always being written, no one ever likes to mention that it's always in someone else's blood though, everyone skips over the gory bits like they didn’t matter, but the truth is- actions have consequences, you punch upwards and you’re eventually gonna bring the ceiling down on your head. Shoot for the moon and hope your oxygen holds out long enough for someone to find you in the midst of Oblivion…
We are basically walking, living, breathing testaments to residuum and to pretend otherwise is ignorant and obscene…”

Softly, and with the delicacy of a whisper laced with cyanide, Amber cocked her head slightly trying to withhold the tic that wanted to tug at the corner of her eye.

“Lives begin and end every day and no one blinks an eye- but televise it and all of a sudden everyone's last breath has meaning. It's a privilege to see the end of anything, whether we realize it or not. It's monumental… and at Violent Conduct on Sunday- whether it's Myra or whether it's me- something has to give and something has to end…”







******




“What's the worst thing that's ever happened to you, Myra?

Be honest.

Was it someone telling you that they didn’t love you anymore, or maybe getting told that you’d never measure to an unreachable standard despite all your best efforts. Did someone disappoint you in a way you couldn’t recover from or were you betrayed by someone you believed in whole-heartedly only to find it was all a lie...
Let's cut the crap, shall we?
You aren’t nearly the damaged goods you claim to be- you’ve built your career on drifting from minor tragedy to minor tragedy, milking the emotional sustenance from everyone before waiting for someone to sweep you off your feet and tell you that it really did mean something. You’re a damn good wrestler, I can’t fault that for a moment- but to take all the good will you somehow managed to muster and throw that in peoples faces when they don’t buy into your melancholic soap opera of soon-to-be retirement speeches every week… It just makes me wanna punch something.

Everyone loves a good underdog story, the little guy winning out over the big bad forces of evil right… It's just, you aren't the underdog this time, this isn’t David vs Goliath Myra- it's Goliath vs Goliath it's just that one of them really feels sorry for themselves.
I’m not the penultimate challenge of some heroes journey and I’m sick to fucking death of the World Title only being viewed as a representation of their hard works and theirs alone- like no one elses wins and work ever mattered before that.
Carrying a title doesn’t make anyone important, people make this title important- after all, there are far more women on this roster who have held this title and been worse off because of it. Not from the title meaning less, but because they degraded what it stood for to bolster their own failing self-admiration.

This Bombshells World title is a deserved centrepiece of this company- not you.

… and I’ll be upfront with you right now, I’m real fucking sick to death of every sob-story, every starry-eyed impetuous misfortune bound motherfucker thinking that it's their god-given right to get to carry this belt simply because it would be ‘such an honour’ or so that whichever family member who ‘would have loved to see them win’ can be talked about for another few weeks.
No one in this business gets to be the champion cause they’re real special or cause their tragedies are greater than anyone else's- this isn’t some Make-A-Wish for wrestlers who would never get there otherwise. We don’t hold this belt up for a five second flash, we hold it up so every piece of shit crawling out of the woodwork, fancying their shot, gets to see what you’ve made the title worth.

When it comes down to it, you aren’t the only person in the world who has experienced loss and adversity- that has experienced some kind of emotional distress and yet you invalidate the way anyone else has ever felt cause it can’t possibly compare right?

No one in this fucking division has ever suffered the way Myra goddamn fucking Rivers has suffered, huh?

Just cause I don’t bring it up at every given opportunity, doesn’t mean I’ve never hurt.

Fact is, I’ve lost more people than I’ll ever name on camera, I’ve hurt people I cared about wrongly and worked twice as hard to make things better because of it and I’ve fought on behalf of many who never got to see an outcome. I have honoured and represented those who cared about me more than I ever deserved to be- and yet you still try to sit there live from your high horse, telling everyone that it's only your odyssey that matters. That only your loss and heartbreak has any meaning, that you should be the only one who’s feelings need to be put on a pedestal and that the courage you’ve shown to carry on is the only one worth prostrating before.

No, fuck you and fuck all of that.

You are selfish beyond understanding Myra, and nothing I can do in this match will ever change that. See, we are in the fucking main event of one of the biggest shows of the Sin City Wrestling calender and instead of promoting how much that means- you’d rather continue to demi-deify your fears and frustrations instead of promoting what really matters.
I’ll be honest- I find it fucking disgusting and I’m beyond tired of pretending like it doesn’t piss me off endlessly.

I can only hope that your hubris will see you turned to antimatter by the time this match is over.

See, you talk a lot about fear going into this- but you have no understanding of the context. You speak on it like it needs to be conquered before you can achieve your goals, that you can never be world champion with fear in your heart… Truth is though- you actually can’t be world champion cause that's my belt, that's my life and it's fifteen years of my bloodshed and my suffering so delicately entwined with the beat of my pulse that one wrong move would surely sever my connection to any common decency I might have had left.
Fear isn't something to be opposed to, you don’t just win against it like it's a challenge- but you’re saying it is cause you need something to blame, something to define you again. Telling everyone you aren’t scared of this match isn’t something to be proud of and being fearless doesn’t make you great- it makes you fucking stupid, it makes you reckless and irrational. Most importantly though, it lies to your body and tells you that you’re far more capable than what you really are…

You’ve painted yourself into a corner- and instead of offering you a lifeline Myra, I’m going to set the room alight.  I’m not here to play games Myra, I’m not gonna go back and forth with you on the intricacies of what it truly means to be scared.
You’ll learn that soon enough and you’ll embrace it cause it's all you’ll have left to hold onto.

Violent Conduct isn't just a buzz phrase, it's what we bring to the table… and it's no secret that I’m unfortunately familiar with this stipulation, that this match technically falls under ‘my terms’ but in truth that changes nothing cause the same woman who won the title from Christina Rose, is the same woman who defended successfully at Summer XXXTreme and is the same person coming to Violent Conduct to do it again.
It's never that I loved the violence Myra- I’ve never woken up in the morning and decided that it was the day I’d just go out and tear myself to shreds in order to prove my name meant something. It's a consequence of the way I came into the industry, and I continue to do it cause sometimes I still have plenty to prove to myself… and since I won this title I never stopped proving myself and I never accepted that I’d done enough.

That's why I accepted this rematch. I still have something to prove.

Every match thrown at me- regardless how inane or barbaric, I have gone out and proven that I’m world class in any and every scenario- food fights and fire fights, to fucking glitter stained ballgown bullshit and violent gore-strewn bloodbaths.
Maybe you’re willing to accept when you’re ‘good enough’ Myra, but for me that's just not going to happen- maybe it's toxic to never believe yourself to be good enough, but I’d rather that than resting on my laurels any day.

Lets just make one thing crystal clear in all of this though- you had your shot at Summer XXTreme, you’re having your shot again now at Violent Conduct… and all you’ve done is bitch and complain about it. Right here, right now is put up or shut the fuck up- there are no more chances, no more politicking your way into your fairytale future.
No, you lose Myra? That's it. You can go stand and watch everyone else get their shot, and maybe think long and hard about how you managed to get to this fateful moment and why all your bullshit and bluster is little more than the last of the residual smoke that's been pumped up your ass for so long.

Come Sunday, karma finally comes calling for you. Come Violent Conduct the ground will shake and mountains will shift- everything you’ve so shoddily built around you crumbles to your feet and when the dust settles you’ll look at what's left and wonder whether it's worth trying to rebuild- and I’ll smile at you a bloody little smile with gold still draped over my shoulder kicking at the stones you so carelessly laid.

I’ll look at you with a moment of pity, the same pity that you’ve scraped the bottom of the barrel for so long for and I’ll explain so very carefully to you as you try and pick up those shattered little pieces of your life- that you did this… That you finally got everything you deserved…

… and that your only remaining tragedy will be that I didn’t end your fucking career sooner.”






******



Bane Hotel Room
Anchorage, AK
09.09.2021
12:49pm





There was that tic again.

Amber tried to ignore it, leaning back into a sofa that she’d already concluded was far too soft. At first it was just a little twitch, a momentary muscle spasm just under her right eye that seemed to dissipate as soon as she recognized it's presence.
It was nothing. It meant nothing. It always meant nothing.

Keep telling yourself that and one day you might believe it.

Maybe she’d overreacted at the radio station, despite the fact she’d received nothing but excitable praise and questionable applause for her blunt force trauma of verbal diarrhea, maybe she’d gone too far and showed a far uglier side to what she represented than intended.
Yeah, that was the issue- she’d always just gone too far without ever questioning if there was a far more amiable middle ground between extremes, hell her whole career had been built on human polarity and her willingness to exploit the dead areas on either side.

Dominic was probably right, she concluded with an aggravated sigh, leopards were far too fond of their spots it seemed.

“Oh hey, I thought you weren’t getting in until later this afternoon.”

Bristling from the cooler air, Mac Bane shrugged off his jacket before tossing it over the edge of the sofa she’d sunk further into the folds of- maybe if she were really lucky she might just disappear long enough for her brain to stop going in circles.

“I messaged you and told you that my schedule had been changed.”

She had messaged, but neglected to mention that she’d forgotten to press send. In truth the schedule hadn’t changed though, her guilt about meeting Dominic at the garage had created that sudden absent-mindedness that she leaned heavily into now as Mac checked against his messages, while she knew he wouldn’t find anything more recent form her than almost a day and a half earlier.

“Hmmm, maybe just some bad reception or something.”

Amber’s stomach sank further than she did, something in her throat tightening painfully as she swallowed her regret. It was wrong, and she knew it was wrong and yet she still had that damn fucking envelope in her gear bag, buried beneath pairs of shoes destined to be worn as odds and a spare pair of pants cause barbed wire had never been kind to clothing.
She hadn’t necessarily lied, yet somehow she could feel the shame of even contemplating doing so scraping at every exposed nerve she had…

“What matters though is that we’re both here now.”

Leaning over the couch edge, Mac planted a soft kiss on her cheek as the scratching of his beard tickled down the side of her neck. Amber returned the gesture with an exhausted smile- the remnants of a tic under her eye lingering just under her skin like a splinter.

“Why don’t we go and check the place out… It's not often that we get to come this far across the country, let alone have any time that's not booked up with publicity nonsense.”

He was right. He was always right.

It seemed rarer and rarer these days that the World Champions saw each other for more than a passing hour or two, their beds were shared less and the coffee normally poured for two always got cold in one cup. Consequences, she reminded herself, by working so hard to be champions they chose this life and as such everything that came with it.
Rubbing her face reflexively, Amber stretched slightly, waiting for her shoulder to make it's distinctive pop before she relented with forearms tucked behind her head.

“As lovely as that sounds…”

“You don’t wanna go”

“I’m just… I’m a little tired from the travel---”

Now that was a lie, she’d been in town long enough to do an interview and sneak in an hour or two's worth of research into Dominic’s grand little scheme she’d somehow managed to get herself dragged into. Not that it had done anything, words on paper blurred into lines that no longer held meaning while photographs melted into a technicolour Rorschach without the sexual innuendos.

“--- besides, this match has got me all sorts of on edge.”

Thoughtfully, Mac dropped in beside her and placed a hand on hers with a small reassuring squeeze.

“I’d have thought you’d be quietly rejoicing.”

It was only partially sarcasm, he knew her career just as well as anyone- if not better than most. He’d been there for some of the worst beatings she’d taken and for some of her greatest bloody triumphs- he’d held her hand when she couldn’t even lift her head and sold his soul alongside her when the times had called for it. Neither of them were strangers to violence and all the baggage that came with it- but few times had ever seemingly had so much on the line.

Somehow fighting for survival seemed to pale in comparison to fighting for the World Title that she’d worked so hard to keep on her shoulder, that she’d given so much just to return some form of prestige to.

“Yeah, I thought I would too… Usually a match like this would see me fighting from underneath though, it's always been that ‘against all odds’ mentality. I’ve never really had anything to lose that I wasn’t already prepared to give up… Whereas this, darling I’d rather be left in fucking pieces than see Myra Rivers walk away with my world title.
This isn’t survival anymore- it's spite. Everything she claims she represents just serves to piss me off, it's all so false and frilly around the edges, you know? A match like this doesn’t just make me wanna keep my title, it makes me wanna end her fucking career just to shut her up for two minutes…”

Mac chuckled pensively, squeezing her hand a little tighter.

“She’s under your skin, sweet girl.”

She wasn't the only one.

“Yeah, and I feel like I’m about to go try to dig her out with a shovel. It's just… it's not what I intended this match to be, you know? I thought I could go out there and prove that in spite of my reputation, I could be controlled and methodical…”

Both of them knew there was little hope of that ever happening, even under the right circumstances- self control and exploding barbed wire just weren’t all that compatible. Besides, she knew Dominic would just say that he told her so… that she was everything she used to be, just with far more incentive to act upon it.

No, get him out of your head.

“It certainly doesn’t hurt to try.”

“You know, you should probably be trying to talk me out of committing unimaginable acts of violence rather than encouraging me…”

Forcing a smile, she nuzzled into Mac’s shoulder and chest in search of the comfort of his heartbeat.

“What can I say, you look good with that world title…”

Silence fell easily between them, just the rhythm of matching pulses and the quiet hum of the breeze outside their window.

“Even if I wanted to Red, I couldn’t sit here and tell you to be anyone, but yourself. If that means you have to go and do some stuff you won’t be proud of later, then I’ll be waiting and if you decide that you have places inside yourself that you need to go- I’ll be here when you come back.”

They both knew what he really meant- everyone had those dark places inside themselves, the ones usually covered in cobwebs where bad intentions sat waiting to be called upon. Manifestations of everything sick and desperate loitered among those shadows- for some a whole lifetime might pass without them ever being disturbed, while others found themselves on a first name basis with the worst of their demons.
More times than she dared to admit, she’d seen people threaten to go to that place- to draw upon something they had no idea how to use, just empty words in the face of things they couldn’t begin to understand.

It sounded threatening, it sounded meaningful- and for most, maybe that was enough.

Amber considered it more like a mine- digging into it before refining what she’d found into something usable. Was there anything left to pull from it though? Each time it seemed she had to dig a little deeper to find the same raw emotion to feed off, was there enough spite and hurt left in her tank to be the person that everyone expected would show up to Violent Conduct.

They wanted the woman who won the world title, the one who’d torn a gaping hole in the Bombshells division and invited anyone who dared to step into the gaping maw of the beast she’d manifested.
In truth, these days she hated that person- before Mac she didn’t care, Amber had happily jumped down the rabbit hole of neurosis and savagery on a whim, but Mac… he made her a better person, he made her want to crawl back out afterwards and face the world as the bloody, macabre mess she’d embraced being.

That was the thing- being a piece of shit was easy, it was comfortable. It required far less effort than being any better than the literal worst.

“You mean that?”

There was a faint tinny quality in her voice, a crack in the vocal facade. Mac paused, still air hanging heavily between them as their pulses roared like thunder in their chests.

“... I do and I’d still love you all the same. There is nothing you can do that would change the way I feel about you Red, never forget that.”

God, why do they mean something so different now then they did from Dominic all those years ago...

Planting a tender kiss on the top of her head, Mac unclasped his hand gently from hers before groaning as he pushed himself out of the sofa- leaving a faintly warm space that smelled like engine grease and sincerity. Amber's chest twinged hard, as though her ribs seized inwards threatening to skewer anything in their path- just the thought of lying to this man filled her with far more dread than potentially losing the World title and yet she sat there with thoughts in a murky haze…

Myra Rivers. Dominic Del Gado. Mac Bane.

Fuck.

She was gambling with absolutely everything she had and for what exactly… putting everything she had to lose in hands she couldn’t trust and yet, sitting on a sofa that threatened to swallow her whole she couldn't help but realize...

Losing everything seemed almost as easy as breathing.

[Myra Rivers]

“I get it now…

My entire journey in Sin City Wrestling has been about facing up to my past and overcoming my fears of failure, created by insecurities, which in turn were caused by the most heartbreaking losses of my career that I continued to accrue and never let go of over the years. But facing my past failures and overcoming almost all of them, particularly when I fought that practice match against Victoria and when I shattered the paintings of my most heartbreaking losses, finally opened my eyes to a perspective that I sorely needed.

As a result? All of those fears that I had going into my match against Amber are gone. I’m not worrying about ‘last chance’, the ‘window closing’ and being forced to the back of the line anymore. I’m not afraid of never winning another world championship again. I am so much stronger than I have ever been in my career. All I need to do now is take one last step regarding my past and overcome the most haunting, heartbreaking loss of my entire career…

When I overcome that, at long last? The strength that I will accrue in my heart and soul will be immeasurable!

It’ll be that strength that will allow me to take that final step and FINALLY become the World Champion I’ve always dreamed of being…”

Labor Day

The painting that I did not shatter in my previous promo, that of Luciana Verdoza defeating me in my final match in PRW back in April of 2013, was prominent in my living room as Jazmyn Rain and I were looking at that moment. At this point, I felt a cold determination sweeping through me as I remembered that painful evening and that feeling of letting down my loved ones.

“Amber is a saint compared to Luciana…” I told Jazmyn, who widened her eyes in surprise. “As big of a rival as Amber is, she’s never truly wanted to hurt me… psychologically anyway. Luciana did and that’s why our rivalry was so intense and so personal. That’s why it was so heartbreaking when she handed me the most devastating loss of my career. She and Amber have similarities though, and for all of my heartbreaking past I’ve overcome already, I know that in order to defeat Amber, I HAVE to find a way to overcome this and heal my shattered spirit from that fateful night…”

“You’ve overcome everything else and I am so proud of you for doing so with the way you won that practice match with Victoria…” Jazmyn reminds me. “You’re going to overcome this too, no matter how horribly hard this is for you.”

“I know I will… somehow...” I said, with no hesitation at all and with the readiness in my heart to face the biggest obstacle I have ever had in my career.

“Myra...” I could hear my half-sister Adrianna say. Jazmyn and I looked over and we saw Adrianna, who was still recovering from that near-fatal accident, wheelchair herself into the living room holding her phone. “You are NOT going to believe the video I just saw… and holy hell, please destroy that painting of that god awful moment...”

“When I’m ready, Adrianna...” I said with a sigh. “What video?”.


“Luciana…” Adrianna said, causing a chill to go down my spine as an indication of any remaining trauma from losing that match to her. “...that bitch decides to come out of the woodwork and suddenly release a video trashing you and calling you out...”

“You’ve got to be KIDDING ME!” Jazmyn exclaims. “Why NOW, just before Myra goes into the biggest match of her career?”

“She’s trying to bring me down again…”

“Don’t let her…” Jazmyn reminds me.

Jazmyn and I went to my couch to sit down while Adrianna had the video ready on her phone.

Then? The video played.

Luciana was sitting on her couch, with numerous 8 by 10’s of the moment she pinned me eight years ago, and she had a wide smirk on her face with nothing but evil intentions in her eyes.

“MYRA! Hi! I know you’re watching this right now. You remember me, right? Luciana? Yeah, of course you do. I’ve only been living in your head rent free for the last eight years or so.

‘I dedicate this last match of my career to my dead mom and unborn daughter… HAHAHAHA… oh man, that was the best birthday present EVER for me to DESTROY that. Oh wait, maybe I should refresh your memory…”

I was mainly chill… until Luciana’s video cut to that horrible moment: her pinning me in that match… a match that I thought was going to be my last. This was followed by her celebrating at my expense while I was slumped in the corner, shocked and dismayed that in the last match in a company that I vowed to always defend from villains like her, I failed… and I failed my mother and Kimberly on top of that. I focused on the tears I was already shedding as Luciana pointed and laughed at me before continuing her celebration. Seeing this all over again sucked the motivation out of me.

Once the video cut back to Luciana, my eyes narrowed with anger. My nerves were getting jumpy and I could feel my heartbeat increase.

“...I broke you that night, Myra. You are STILL broken from that night! That’s why you won’t beat Amber Ryan. That’s why you’ll NEVER be SCW Bombshells Champion. That’s why she’s going to end your career very soon. Your career is going to end just like it did eight years ago: getting beaten in a world championship match by a rival of yours that will always be superior to you, shattering your heart, and leaving you CRYING in the locker room about being a failure that will never be world champion again. I’m calling you out. A CELEBRATION at the Space Needle in Seattle, on me! Thursday night. I’ll celebrate your LEGACY OF FAILURE right in front of your face and remind you why I will ALWAYS be superior to you… assuming you’re not going to continue to run away like you have the last eight years HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! See you there… maybe. I can’t wait to see you fail your loved ones again when Amber shatters your ass one last time!”

The video ended and that regret of losing that match to her came flooding back. My spirit completely sank with eight year old wounds suddenly bleeding again.

“Myra, this is your chance to finally face this…” Jazmyn insisted.

“She’s right. That match… I still haven’t fully recovered from it... Of everything I’ve ever dealt with in my career, that match was the most psychologically traumatic match I ever wrestled in. I can’t take this right now. Can I really overcome this? Or will that awful night stick with me for the rest of my life? If so… I’m never going to be a world champion again. I need to go to bed.”

With a heavy, burdened heart, I went upstairs and went to bed for the night. I fell asleep with my heart and soul filled with regret, doubting that my darkest cloud would ever go away.

April 24, 2013

I found myself dreaming about that awful night of my match with Luciana Verdoza in PRW again. Fortunately, the locker room was empty. I sat alone, moping in stunned silence. That regret was really pulling at my heartstrings as my spirit was torn on mourning my rock bottom or finally fighting it.

“Even now… I wish I never lost that match. Luciana, my biggest rival ever, beating me on that big of a stage was bad enough, but under those circumstances where I let EVERYONE down and felt like I failed as a mother seven months before Kimberly was born?  For more than eight years, that awful night has burdened me and no matter how hard I try, it just never seems to go away. That match destroyed me and altered the course of my career… my LIFE! My confidence and self-esteem was nuked to the point that when I came back to wrestling, I lost faith in myself and did the awful things I had done in GCW for years. Those worries and insecurities about my abilities have ALWAYS stuck in my conscience, even during that Internet title reign. I don’t know if I am strong enough to defeat this. Nothing will ever top this as the worst night of my career…” I admitted to myself.

“You can and WILL overcome this, Miranda. I believe in you!” I heard the voice of my mother next to me as she sat by me. There was a combination of joy and relief knowing that I wasn’t about to have another nightmare as she sat down next to me.

“This was the emptiest I ever felt in my career…” I admitted. “I also felt guilty. Helpless. Alone. Destroyed. I felt worthless. I felt like a disgrace to PRW and the business that I love. I felt like I should’ve never become a wrestler at all and that I should never wrestle again. Basically? Luciana tied me down to a cross, took a sword, cut my chest open while I was awake, ripped my fucking heart out, and stabbed it into a million pieces… all while my confidence and my spirit bled until my career ended…”

“At one point, you worried that losing to Amber again would bring you back to all those feelings, didn’t you?”

I nodded. “That Luciana match was the biggest regret of my entire career.”

“How do you think things would be different if the result went the other way?”

“I would be far more confident and less secure in myself, for sure. I wouldn’t feel the need to redeem myself… and by the way, I don’t feel like I have redeemed myself at all, even to this very day. I HAVE to beat Amber to FINALLY move past this… or at least it feels that way. My career would be in a better place and I’d be a much freer spirit and a happier person knowing I accomplished everything I ever wanted in her career.”

“Are you sure, Miranda?” my mother asked. “Idealism is often far from reality.”

“I’m positive! I’d be in a much better place if I won that match.”

“Let’s test that theory… with one final lesson…”

“Huh?”

On a whim, my mother snapped her fingers and I got blinded by a flash of light.

September 12, 2021

I was staring at the Sullivan Arena with huge banners saying “VIOLENT CONDUCT: TONIGHT!”

“It’s a bold move… what you are doing…” the voice of Ricky, Kimberly’s father and my ex-husband, said to me. I was stunned to see him alive. “...you haven’t done anything with wrestling since you retired eight years ago.”

“Retired? But I wrestle for SCW…”

“Mommy, did you have that dream again about still wrestling?” Kimberly asked me from my right hand side.

“I am still with SCW. I wrestled for Carnage Wrestling, UWA, GCW, and even won the Global title there almost five years ago and…”

“Honey, did you fall and hit your head or something? You haven’t wrestled a match since you defeated Luciana Verdoza and retired from wrestling as the PRW World Champion, remember?”

I took a glance at my hand, realizing that in this reality, Ricky and I were still married.

“I won that match for my mother and made her proud… and I won that match for Kimberly…”

I was experiencing massive joy in my heart as I remembered the moment I beat her. Those awful feelings from losing that match being non-existent was a true bliss I had longed for.

“Rebel Bomb, center of the ring, then I locked her in her own submission move and made that BITCH tap out. It was the happiest ending I could’ve ever imagined. I am so blessed to have that.”

“I’m surprised you’d want to promote your tell-all book about your wrestling career to the SCW Bombshells locker room. You’ve really been distant from wrestling…”

“Look, I can inspire some women tonight, alright?” I paused, glancing at my purse and seeing that I had a backstage pass to the event. “I’ll see you both when the event is over.”

“Alright…” Ricky said as we exchanged a hug and a kiss. I hugged Kimberly as well before I made my way toward the building. To say that I was feeling elated would be an understatement. I was heading toward the arena when a shocked fan came up to me…

“Myra Rivers…” the fan said, narrowing his eyes with bitterness. “YOU of all people showing up at a wrestling event? What happened to being TOO GOOD to ever come back?”

“...I never said that…” I said, confused.

“Why don’t you go back to Miami and party with your Stepford Wives in your stupid little country club, you sellout bitch! And by the way, your tell-all book about your wrestling career was fucking garbage…”

The fan walked away from me as I scoffed in shock. I shook it off, though that comment really did cut me, as I finished my walk to the building. I was surprised to see a poster promoting Amber defending the SCW World Bombshell title against Roxi, Alicia and Christina in a four way ladder match. I walked inside the building, still feeling saddened by the ‘sellout bitch’ comment.

“What are you doing here?” I heard a woman ask me as I walked down the hallway. I turned to see Bea Barnhart, a member of the Bombshells roster. “Don’t you have a yacht in the Gulf of Mexico to sunbathe in or something Misses TOO GOOD FOR WRESTLING?”

“I’m here to promote my book about my career… Leah, right?”

“It’s BEA, stupid!” Bea snapped back. “Long before I became a wrestler, I saw what you accomplished in PRW and I was amazed by it. When you won your last match, it was amazing! You had ALL of your fans rooting for you and then in the last few years… you have done nothing but bash our business, stating that you wish you were never a part of it, telling everyone that would listen that you’d never want your daughter to be part of it because it’s beneath her and that you’d raise her to be a stronger woman than that. You are nothing but a piece of SHIT! You took your big moment and you went home to profit off of it! You STUPID! SELLOUT! BITCH!”

I was already starting to breathe hard, panicking and feeling grossly attacked. At that point, I uncharacteristically snapped at her.

“And what have YOU accomplished other than being someone else’s tagalong bitch of a wife, huh, Bea? Have you won any titles? NO! Have you accomplished ANYTHING in your career? NO! You are FUCKING JEALOUS OF ME that in ONE FUCKING NIGHT, when I won my last match and retired as a world champion, I accomplished MORE than you EVER WILL in your WHOLE LIFE… so don’t go around insulting someone that is BETTER than you and ALWAYS WILL BE!”

Kate Steele came into the picture now… and she spit right in my face.

“I don’t like you…” she said immediately. “You are SO arrogant, you know that? You want to come into OUR locker room and promote yourself like you’re the biggest legend of your generation, huh?”

“I AM! I’d say retiring as a world champion makes that a reality! Amber Ryan is just a wannabe in comparison!”

“Bitch, PRW has been dead for eight years. The casuals don’t even know that company anymore. You’re not a legend to me, Myra. You’re a NOBODY! You haven’t wrestled in more than eight years because you’re SCARED of facing REAL competition. Most of the PRW roster isn’t even in wrestling anymore. Who’s to say you weren’t a big fish in a small pond all along? Every time your face comes on my TV, I want to punch it. ‘Legend’ my ass. Take your perfect ending and SHOVE IT!”

“...okay…” I said with a tremble in my voice, feeling like I was totally lost and helpless. “...that’s… that’s your opinion. There’s no need to bring anyone down here…”

“Funny coming from the woman that did nothing but put down SCW years ago…” Jessie Salco said as she came toward the group. “Two years after you gave birth, SCW offered you a contract and you declined. You said that you were above wrestling in a ‘gimmick company’ and that people like me, Roxi Johnson, and Mercedes Vargas were not worth your time. Now you want to come into OUR yard and promote YOUR brand? I am not going to take ANYONE insulting the company that I bleed, sweat and cry for!”

“But…”

Jessie socked me right below the cheekbone, knocking me right to the floor. I was stunned while I stood up and tears formed in my eyes.

“Why does everyone hate me?” I asked. “I’m just trying to inspire you all to be better with my amazing story...”

The three women just laughed at me as Andrea Hernandez walked into the picture.

“So THIS is the woman I’ve drawn comparisons to?” Andrea asks with a scoff. “I grew up watching her do amazing things and yes, I did want to be just like her but… please… being compared to YOU is an INSULT!”

“How many SCW Bombshells World Championships between all four of you are there? Huh? Oh right, I have more world titles than all of you COMBINED! You don’t get to talk down to me. You don’t get to insult GREATNESS unlike anything ANY of you have ever achieved! Every single one of you is beneath me and if THIS is how a LEGEND like ME gets treated, then I am OUT OF HERE! I was ALWAYS too good for SCW and ALWAYS will be… so GOOD RIDDANCE! HATERS!”

“If you’re so AMAZING and such a LEGEND, why don’t you put your money where your mouth is, come out of retirement and sign with SCW?” Jessie asked me.

“She knows Amber Ryan would mop the floor with her…” Kate answered with a laugh. “Amber Ryan is a TRUE SCW legend right now and would completely end her career…”

“She’s not my cup of tea…” Bea states. “But she IS far more superior than Myra could ever dream of. She’ll never wrestle again because she’s a COWARD who is scared of being exposed as a fraud!”

“Myra, you wouldn’t last a DAY in SCW… “ Andrea said to me.  “In your miserable heart, you know that…”

The quartet all laughed at my expense before they all departed. I sat down in the hall, crying and alone. I thought back to the match where I ‘beat’ Luciana and felt some sort of misery. I realized right away that it wasn’t giving me the joy I would expect that memory to. The fact that they berated my legacy and dismissed it as a joke had me feeling extremely insecure with myself and regretting that I passed on SCW a few years ago.

“Maybe I should’ve come back after all…” I said through my tears. “...but it’s too late now! I’ve been gone for too long. I was willing to give up something that I loved for my own selfish desires and self-absorbed feelings. What did I give up by never coming back? It’s too late to ever be in SCW and to show them that my success in this business wasn’t a fluke. I have to carry that regret for the rest of my life…”

I saw my mother approaching me and she wasted no time sitting next to me. The scene switched back to the PRW locker room on that heartbreaking night.

“Why was I so… fragile and miserable? I became the OPPOSITE of who I am today. I thought having the perfect ending to my career would make me happy and strong…”

“Without that loss, you never learn anything.” my mother explained. “You never overcome the obstacles that you have by wrestling over the last six years, nor do you ever gain the maturity or the perspective that you do. You never gain the emotional strength that you gained from overcoming those obstacles. You never grow up and become a true professional wrestler. In that alternate reality? You’re as shallow and miserable as they come and you are a hated, forgotten woman in the business. Myra, things turned out the way they did with Luciana because that was MEANT to be that way for YOUR benefit. You can’t change what happened and you can’t overcome by wishing that things were different. But you CAN overcome by accepting that it happened, fighting it, overcoming it, healing from it and moving on… all with EVERY bit of perspective you have gained since that awful night. Without that night, you are not YOU.”

“I’ve learned my lesson…” I said with confidence. “I know what happened was a horrible moment for me, but after experiencing the alternative? I’m becoming grateful that it did…”

Right on cue, another blinding flash hit me… and I was awake in my bed again...

September 7th, 2021

I sat up, my eyes widened with surprise. I was quite stunned initially when I came to the realization that the way things went down turned out to be so much better for me. Knowing what I had to do to overcome the most painful memory of my career was certainly something that was starting to brighten my spirits. Once the initial shock wore off, I started to gradually feel stronger. I thought back to that painful loss and I noticed it wasn’t causing me any ill feelings.

“Thanks mom…” I said to her despite the fact that she wasn’t around.

I began to think a little bit more to myself.

“That dream I had makes so much sense. In PRW, I was not necessarily the most mature person in the world. I had a reputation of being a bit of a diva and a drama queen and no doubt that winning that match against Luciana would have inflated my ego to insufferable proportions and left me being a shallow, empty, shell of a person. I would’ve turned into a lighter version of what I became in GCW. I never, ever want to be that person again… even in another reality. I’m thinking that losing that match was the best thing to happen to me…”

I slid out of bed, my heart growing with the feeling of healing. Walking over to my drawer, I pulled out the top right drawer and collected my journal. I knew which page I was going to…

“April 25, 2013…” I began to read. “Devastated. I can’t help but continue to cry as my career had the worst possible ending ever. None of this is fair. How could I lose to HER? Luciana Verdoza does not deserve to be the last PRW World Champion. How can this happen to me? Why do I have to suffer from this? I will never get over it and I could never wrestle a match in the business again, pregnancy or not….”

Oddly, I cut off the reading as I was feeling annoyed.

“I can’t go on like this…” I said as I ripped the page out of my notebook, crumpled it and tossed it in the trash. “That night doesn’t feel so ‘devastating’ to me anymore.”

 I grabbed a pen and took that and the journal with me out of my bedroom and down the stairs. That painting of that night was still there. When I looked upon that fateful night and began to think about it, there were no feelings of sadness, emptiness, worthlessness, fear or trauma. For the first time, reflecting on that night caused me to smile and I was about to write down my feelings in a new journal entry.

“9/7/21… everything feels different…” I began to write. “I never thought I would write this, but I am starting to feel HAPPY that the worst heartbreak of my career happened. I am GRATEFUL for that heartbreak because it gave me something to overcome when I came back. It taught me so many lessons that made me a stronger, better wrestler and that further invigorated the very love I have for this business and boosted my self-worth and my pride. It was meant to be, the last eight years. I was meant to come back and face this. I was destined to be in SCW and to have another rival in Amber Ryan that many feel I can’t beat when the stakes are high. I was meant to overcome her as my final obstacle to be the world champion that fate has prepared me to become. Without that heartbreak I’ve endured, I am never strong enough to face someone like Amber or even last in SCW at all. That heartbreak made me, not broke me… and it’s about to make me a world champion… one that I’ve starved to be since I was seven years old.

But first? I have a detour through Seattle…

To overcome all of the anguish and agony the biggest heartbreak of my wrestling career ever put me through. It’s time to bury this and be at full peace…

Finally…”

I closed the journal and looked back at the painting. My heart was definitely beating some sort of healing elixir through my veins. The more my mother’s lesson sunk into my conscience, the happier and the more confident I was becoming.

At long last, I was finally ready to overcome the one obstacle that held me back from becoming the champion I was born to be.

September 9th, 2021

The Space Needle.

As soon as I reached the top and headed to where I needed to be, I felt this amazingly grim determination flow through me.

“Today is the day I overcome this…” I told myself as I walked around looking for my bitter old rival from eight years ago. I saw a white-colored party ahead and when I got to it, I saw a “Happy Retirement Myra” banner hanging from the ceiling. This caused me to roll my eyes. As I did, I saw Luciana sitting at a dinner table, smirking and minding her own business. My heart was beating fast knowing that I was about to have a confrontation eight years overdue. I stormed over to her, that angry determination flowing through me, and she saw me. She widened her eyes with surprise, but then let out a chuckle.

“You showed up. Shocker.”

I said nothing as I sat down across the table from her.

“What’s the play, Luciana?”

“Why… we’re just trying to celebrate your career!”

“We?”

Sure enough, Jayson Schneider, my ex and Luciana’s partner in crime, sat at the table between us.

“Myra, let’s be honest here. You’re not beating Amber. And… knowing you and your EGO? You’re not going to go to the back of the line. You’d rather retire before you do. SO, we just wanted to celebrate with a PRE-RETIREMENT PARTY!!!!!”

Jayson blew a party horn to add to the sarcasm.

“How is it  going to feel knowing that you just can’t beat Amber when it matters?” Jayson asked me with a smirk. “We were together when you actually did beat her but you and I both know it was a fluke. Amber is your Achilles heel that you can’t overcome no matter how many times you try. You should’ve just given up and gone to the back of the line, but instead you’d rather have your precious heart broken? Again? You can’t win. Everywhere you go, there is always someone you can’t overcome: Amber, Jazmyn, Victoria…”

“And of course… ME!” Luciana says with a laugh. “Do you realize how ELATED that I am that eight years later, I am STILL in your head, Myra? Seeing you fail at Summer XXXtreme and watching that nauseating 350 day Internet title reign was something that made me ECSTATIC! I LOVE watching you fail, even NOW! Every time you face a match like Amber and you FAIL, I take pride in knowing that you failed because of ME! I BASK in the POWER that I have had over you ever since I SHATTERED YOUR SOUL on PRW’s last night!”

“What do you think about Amber Ryan, Luciana?” Jayson asked her.

“I think she’s AMAZING! I mean she has to be considering SHE BEAT MYRA!”

Luciana and Jayson laughed at me while I didn’t react.

“Myra, do you understand the power I’ve had over you all these years? I remember when you first joined PRW and you shot straight to the top. You weren’t going to settle for less. You wanted to sign with them so you could aim for the heights that NSWA held you back from. Damn everyone else, YOU were the one that was going to become the franchise face of PRW and you BECAME THAT! Compare that to the companies you’ve joined since I’ve beaten you…”

“GCW…” Jayson threw in…

“Initially, you were just happy to restart your career. That was all you cared about. No initiative to get to the top. UWA? No initiative. You just wanted to destroy things and settle for second-tier titles. Carnage? No initiative.  You settle for tag team gold and being an ANDREW WATTS LACKEY? Isn’t that guy considered a joke in SCW? I digress, but speaking of SCW, you were timid when you first walked in. There was no ‘world title’ for you. Again, just happy to be there. All those companies… being afraid of shooting for the top… all because you were afraid of experiencing FAILURE again because of what I did to you!”

“And YOU take credit for all of that?”

“OF COURSE!”

“I already knew that, Luciana. You’re right. I DID give you too much power for so long. That experience did make me timid and worried about aiming straight for the top… but I’m here to take that power back.”

Luciana just scoffed as she reached into her purse. She took four Polaroids out and slid them across the desk to me. My eyes narrowed when I saw they were pictures from that fateful night. There was one where I had a look of terror in my eyes when the bell rang, one where I looked like I was ready to quit after Luciana kicked out, one where my eyes looked empty after I lost and one where I was crying in my car two hours after the event was over…

“That’s why you’re not beating Amber…” Luciana said to me with a sneer on her face. “I saw that SAME FEAR in your eyes at Summer XXXtreme, that SAME SURRENDER in them when you couldn’t put Amber away, that SAME EMPTINESS after the fact when you appeared on camera for the first time since that match and I KNOW you bawled your eyes out after you lost…”

“Because that’s the MYRA WAY… giving up and crying when things don’t go her way!” Jayson said with a laugh. “It’s the same cycle ALL over again! How does it feel to know that Luciana will ALWAYS have power over you?”

“Those promos you’ve been doing since then where you’re all but BEGGING for one more chance against Amber and acknowledging that you HAVE to win this time… which you won’t by the way… or else it’s over for you… how DESPERATE! It’s JUST as desperate as you were when we had our match where you HAD TO RETIRE AS WORLD CHAMPION!”

“PATHETIC!” Jayson added.

"The fact that Kimberly is growing up with YOU as a mother is child abuse with how you CONSTANTLY letter down in big matches..." Luciana said…

My heart burst into flames when she said that

 "I have defined you for the last eight years and I STILL DO considering you CAN'T WIN THE BIG ONE UNLESS YOU CHEAT LIKE YOU DID IN GCW!"

“Not anymore…” I said with increased anger. “...because I have purged my spirit of that sadness that occured because of you. In fact, I wanted to thank you, Luciana, for providing me with the biggest obstacle of my career that I will EVER overcome

“WHAT?” Luciana asked, completely caught off guard.

“You know what I am realizing hearing you talk and using the past against me to try SO HARD to bring me down right now? You’re just like Amber: THREATENED by me.”

My enemies laughed while my anger increased.

“You were ALWAYS threatened by ME since the moment we met in PRW 12 years ago. I got under your damn skin the moment we locked eyes as rivals for the first time and I KNOW that’s true because YOU were the one that went through ALL of that trouble back then, and right now, to try to bring me down. YOU are the one that STILL feels the need to pour salt in the wound. All this time I’ve been in SCW, you’ve left me alone but NOW you want to start shit with me, Luciana? NOW you’re trying to run me out of the business again? WHY? I’ll tell you why…”

“You are seriously dru…”

“SHUT UP, JAYSON!” I snapped, catching him by surprise as I continued. “...you’re doing this NOW, despite the career successes you have had since PRW, because it PAINS YOU that you DID NOT get rid of me eight years ago. You wanted to get rid of me for good and you FAILED. Who’s the one with the power, Luciana? It’s SURE as hell not you and it never WAS you! It’s SAD that despite what you’ve done in your own right in wrestling, that you will ALWAYS feel the need to be better than me and to preach this IMAGINARY SUPERIORITY over me. You will ALWAYS feel that need because Luciana, you are the most insecure woman I have EVER met in my life…”

Luciana was beginning to crack, narrowing her eyes with anger and clawing at the table.

“When I went to PRW, I did respect you and for years, despite your attitude, I did try to be friends with you because I felt like I needed your approval for the stature you held in this business. But I never did and I STILL don’t. I NEVER needed your validation. At one point, a weakness of mine was caring too much about what other people, including you, thought of me. But not anymore, Luciana. I don’t give a FUCK about what you think and I damn sure don’t give a FUCK that you don’t think I can beat Amber. You know why? Because YOU are a MICROCOSM of what people are saying about Violent Conduct. ‘Myra can’t win.’ ‘Myra can’t beat Amber.’ ‘Amber is too good right now!’ and it’s all BULLSHIT because for 14 years, I have done NOTHING but SILENCE and OVERCOME people like YOU that doubt me and criticize me and I don’t care what you think, alright? I am OVER eight years ago knowing that someone WEAK and INSECURE like you is dragging me down. Luciana, you’re not even worth being the gum stuck on my shoe!”

I stood up, angrily. I began to walk away and ironically, one of Luciana’s shoes nailed me in the back of the head and this took my anger over the top. I turned and charged back in her direction. Jayson tried to block me, but I kneed him below the belt. Luciana removed her other shoe to try to hit me with it, but I grabbed her and pinned her right against the wall, near a large white wedding-style cake on a wooden table. I saw fear in her eyes when I had her cornered. As I pinned her against the wall, I pressed my forearm against her throat so she couldn’t talk.

“See? Insecurity. You couldn’t handle the truth. You couldn’t handle that you can’t bring me down anymore. I am going to leave you with one last warning, Luciana. If you EVER try to fuck with me again, ESPECIALLY with my daughter like you did earlier in our conversation, I don’t give a FUCK about right or wrong, I WILL find you and I WILL end your fucking career, you got that? Don’t you EVER bring my daughter into ANYTHING between you and I again.”

I released my forearm from her throat, but still had her pinned against the wall.

“...yeah… of course. I… I’ll let that match die… I mean that. I’ll never bring it up again…”

“GOOD!”

I grabbed Luciana by the hair and threw her face first into the cake, leaving her screaming with humiliation that her whole entire plan backfired.

“People like YOU and ANYONE that wants to bring me down are beneath me! NOBODY dictates my destiny, my self-esteem or my self-worth AGAIN! Thank you for giving me my first building block to become the strong woman I am today, eight years ago, Luciana. But from now on? You mean NOTHING to me as far as my career and how I see myself as a wrestler is concerned. GOODBYE!”

I turned and bolted away from the “dinner” and immediately, a flood of joy and relief warmed my heart. Once my anger faded, I was smiling as bright and as wide as the night in New York when I won the PRW World Championship for the second time nearly 11 years ago. The inner peace that I had always wanted was bathing my spirit and all of that weight on my shoulders evaporated as I walked out of the Space Needle’s restaurant and into the waiting elevator.

"I've silenced one rival who wrote me off as 'never being good enough', now it's time to silence another and become that world champion I’ve always wanted to be..."

As I went down the Space Needle, my confidence was skyrocketing. I wiped away a small tear of joy that hit me as I was so overwhelmed with my newfound inner peace of FINALLY overcoming the most heartbreaking moment of my career. I hit the base of the building and existed, basking in the bright, clear moonlight I found myself in.

“I have finally overcome the biggest regret of my career…” I thought to myself as I began to walk down the street. “...there is nothing holding me back from that Bombshells World Championship now…”

I kept walking… only pausing to see that painting of that fateful match with Luciana and I from eight years ago broken into pieces and tossed in the trash. I smiled, turned and continued to walk knowing that I FINALLY put that heartbreaking experience behind me for good…

“Now I know how strong I truly am. Now I feel like I AM one of the best damn women’s wrestlers in the world and from now on, I am going to EMBRACE what I am as a wrestler… no holding back… no matter what people like AMBER FUCKING RYAN want to say about me…”

September 10th, 2021

On this night, I was sitting on the edge of a dock that was overlooking DeLong Lake in the Anchorage, Alaska area. My soul was burning with a passionate desire that I had never experienced before and I was feeling the beat of my own heart pumping so much confidence and determination through me. I looked into the lake and I saw my own reflection. In my own imagination, I was seeing every single moment of adversity that would come to define my career throughout the years. Remembering this adversity didn’t bring me down, it strengthened me. My reflection was prominent again, feeling more secure in myself than ever before. Seeing the strong, passionate, resilient woman that I had become in the reflection of the lake continued to bathe my heart in a self-love that I didn’t realize I had. It was realizing all of my strengths through all of the adversity it had developed through, that had me feeling that I was about to win at Violent Conduct.

“To overcome and reach your highest potential, you have to look inward. You have to see your flaws. You have to see the adversity that you have encountered and you have to evaluate how you’ve handled it and face the fears that the adversity provided to you. To be the best version of yourself, you have to look in the mirror and be brave enough to see where your flaws lie and what you can do to improve them. You have to realize that you CAN be better and that you WILL be better because you DESERVE to be better. Since Summer XXXtreme, by overcoming SO much of my past, my pain and my fears, I have realized that I DO deserve to be the best version of myself and my 350 day Internet Championship reign was only just a sample of it. You have to be emotionally strong and allow yourself the opportunity to face and overcome your emotional scars to be a stronger and better person. I know that when it comes to Violent Conduct, I AM going to defeat you Amber, and I am going to become the SCW Bombshells World Champion at your expense no matter how BADLY you don’t want to happen because SINCE our last encounter, I FACED myself, I FACED my flaws, I ACCEPTED them and I worked with them to be stronger and better and you are going to get a better Myra Rivers that in your own self-delusions and in your own ‘woe is me’ bullshit, you have neglected to prepare yourself for. You are going to lose at Violent Conduct in a match that, on paper, you would win on any given Sunday because of how far up your street it is because whatever advantage you have from your experience in these matches?

You’ve already negated it on your own just by the way you are and just by the way you think and act and speak. The moment I got wind of your promo last week and the moment that I heard you say the things that you said about me, I KNEW in my heart that I am NOT the underdog in this match. I know I came into this with fears, worries, doubts, concerns and such regarding my future after Violent Conduct all because I allowed traumas of the past to bring me down, but in overcoming these, I KNOW I am going to win. The stipulation, Amber? I’m not afraid of it. I go into this match with NO fears having overcome them all. But YOU Amber? I’m going to tell you the ONE reason why I am going to defeat you and win my 5th career world championship: I am EMOTIONALLY STRONGER than you are! You can be the big bad, you can be the dominant champion, you can throw your weight around all you want, but your ACHILLES HEEL, Amber, is your emotional WEAKNESS compared to your physical strengths. I’ll explain your emotional weaknesses and why they will sink you in the end, but first, I want to answer the question as to whether I would sacrifice everything for that world title.

Obviously? Yes. The fact that I have taken on this match alone is proof enough of that. I know for a fact that my career is at risk because this match can severely hurt me to the point where I may never be physically able to wrestle again. I am willing to sacrifice ALL that I can give in order to win that title. But you want to turn that around and actually ACT like you’re reading my mind, is that it? You want to ASSUME that I would think that our lives and well being are more important? That’s just the first of many graves you’re digging for yourself Amber. Obviously, well-being IS important… but that is something that you have REJECTED. You come into your last promo with this doom and gloom attitude ACCEPTING that you are waiting for someone to ‘turn the lights out on your existence’ and that your life has been forfeit. Essentially, the picture you are painting to me is that your career and everything that you accomplish in it is all that you have to live for. Tell me again how you could possibly be stronger than me on an emotional level? The way I see it, you are coming across as someone that doesn’t feel like they have anything else to live for. This is literally IT for you, Amber, what you do with your career LITERALLY DEFINES your well-being and your self-esteem and that’s just sad, it really is. You’re painting this doom and gloom picture, talking about families begging you to stop. I won't be a world champion because I value my well being SO much more than you do?

Really?

At least that’s how I interpret things, Amber. I get where you are going with the sacrifice thing, but you’re far too stuck in your own neurosis to really take a step back and see the forest for the trees. Someone that thinks like you do and has no care for their well being is someone that sounds like they have accepted that they are always going to be miserable and that nothing will ever be good enough for them. You sit there and you ACCEPT the doom and gloom, but if it were me? I’d FIGHT IT because I KNOW in my heart that I deserve better and yet, you’re content with staying where you are in your little gloomy bubble either because you don’t think that you can be better than what you are, or you are AFRAID to take the next step to change who you are and become a better person. Take away the famous career and your accolades that you’ve attained in your career, and what is left of the woman known as Amber Ryan? Can you tell me that? I know that without my career, I would still have my daughter and I would still have my loved ones, but Mac aside, what is left for you? This business is literally all that is preventing you from either falling or jumping off the edge and I pity you for that. I pity you for how emotionally weak you are. I pity you because it’s all about life on the edge for you because you feel like there is nothing left to live for. You are NEVER, EVER going to be satisfied with ANYTHING. It’s sad, but it’s as if you don’t WANT to be happy. That’s what separates me from you.

I FACE UP to my problems. You? You’re just willing to accept them and drown in them. You do a hell of a job taking out all of your pain, hurt and anger out on anyone else that crosses your path because the fact of the matter is, the only way you can ever gain satisfaction… even TEMPORARY… is by dragging others down to your level. That’s how you do what you do. That’s why you’ve been successful at what you do and because it’s worked out SO well for you, YOU don’t feel the need to evolve or to change anything… but you want to come after ME for having ‘no intention’ of changing who I am?

LOOK IN THE MIRROR, AMBER!

You are the DEFINITION of what you’ve accused me of there. You talk about how you have EVERYTHING left to lose, acting like I don’t. You’re talking about how I have NOTHING to fight for? Amber, I have EVERYTHING to fight for! I fight for my loved ones, I fight for my fans, I fight for my  daughter more than anything else in the world because my biggest purpose for continuing to do something that I love is to be the best role model I can be for her and to show her that nobody should hold you back from realizing a dream that you want bad enough no matter how many times some chickenshit self-defeatest coward wants to say “no” to them any and every step of the way. There you go again, Amber… throwing your judgments against me acting like you know me, trying to force all of these opinions and fallacies about me as if you suddenly know me. There you go again trying to slander me, trying to paint me as something that I’m not, trying SO HARD to shove this manufactured image of me from your head down the throats of anyone that is dumb enough to listen. If you want an example of WHY I am emotionally stronger than you, our first promos tell the story.

I NEVER, not ONCE, said anything derogatory toward you or ever bothered trying to put you down. Why? Because I don’t HAVE TO!. Whereas YOU are spending your promo doing just that to me. You beat me at Summer XXXtreme and yet you STILL feel the need to try to paint a fallacy of me that NOBODY BUT YOU has painted? That is a PURE SIGN of your emotional weakness. I heard that little cheap shot about how being the ‘next me’ is a “low bar”. I heard that cheap shot about how “nobody cares” about my matches and what I do in an SCW ring. Really? Who are you trying to convince that this is true because if you actually pulled your head out of your ass for ONE second, there were quite a few participants in the Internet Championship tournament talking up my title reign with the likes of Dani and Andrea making it very clear that they wanted to surpass what I did with that championship. That to me, sounds like people that care. You feel the need to throw these cheap shots and smears at myself and my career, talking me ‘toxic’ when not ONE person, except for Andrea, even THINKS of me as such. You felt the need to call my career ‘middling’, you try to paint my words as something ‘narcissistic’ and you try to paint the way I carry myself as a front when only YOU are the one saying this idiotic things that have no BEARING or MERIT as far as my career here goes. You are becoming DESPERATE to try to paint me as what I am not. Why, Amber?

Why do YOU feel the need to try to tear me down and paint a false picture of me that nobody but YOU believes?

I know why.

You’re desperate. On top of that? I am under your skin. For SOME reason, I get to you. Don’t bullshit me and tell me otherwise Amber, because if I wasn’t getting under your skin, you wouldn’t be trying to attack me with nothing but BASELESS OPINIONS! Me being toxic? Your opinion. My reign being a low bar? OPINION. Can you tell me what I have actually DONE to you that has made me get under your skin so much? CLEARLY, I bother you… and I don’t even try to. Amber, that’s a reflection of YOU and not me. Why do I get under your skin so much? Because I stepped up and pushed for a rematch? Is it because I refused to stay down like your other challengers have? Is it because there is something that you see in me that you’re envious of and you just want to take YOUR insecurities out on me to make ME look like the bad guy? Aside from what has happened during our matches, I have done NOTHING to you Amber… I have done nothing to YOU personally to warrant this sad, desperate hate in your heart that you have for me just because you are an emotionally weak, frightened little girl at heart that HAS to make someone feel her suffering because you have the self-esteem of a rock! You try to paint yourself SO HARD is being SO much better than me because you’ve made sacrifices that I “haven’t made” and because you’ve taken risks that I “haven’t taken”. You paint the picture of me being someone that doesn’t rise up to get to the next level when my entire career has contradicted ALL of that.

My big breakthrough moment? Ladder match where I had to push harder than I ever have in my whole life to be something in this business.

My first world championship ever? It happened in a four way steel cage match where I put my body on the line.

Second world championship? Hell in a Cell, enough said about that.

Hell, after I won my THIRD world title, I defended it, SUCCESSFULLY, in a DEATHMATCH OF MY OPPONENT’S OWN CREATION and with that, I fucking BLED and FOUGHT for my career, for my LIFE and for my own well-being because that match was the final match of a blood rivalry I had… that I HAD to win to prove that I could be a fighting champion against ANY opponent in ANY situation and not ONCE did I EVER feel the need to run down that opponent no matter how many times he tried to bring me down.

But I don’t know anything about sacrifices and taking risks and taking the next step and doing whatever it takes to be a world champion. WHATEVER! You think coming back from the edge of oblivion makes you better than me? It doesn’t! I did it when I came back from the most devastating loss of my whole career and became a stronger wrestler than ever. That’s not an ‘over inflated impression of self-worth’ Amber… and BY THE WAY, you can’t TALK about someone else having that considering YOU are going around acting as if the entire division is beneath you and talking about being “eternal and undeniable”... but I’M the one that’s being narcissistic.

Sure.

I’M the one that needs validation from you?

Sure.

Obviously, NEVER the case. I don’t NEED your fucking validation, Amber… especially since for more than 90 percent of my Internet Championship run, you weren’t in the picture. It was THAT title run that validated me in SCW to begin with. Not you. Don’t talk to ME about validation when YOU’RE ALWAYS SEEKING VALIDATION! Don’t talk to me about narcissism when you’re painting this picture that my reputation is ‘forgotten about’.

God, I really DO get under your skin, don’t I?

YOU’RE talking about ME being desperate? WHO is the one trying to grasp at straws with everything she says trying to undercut and cheapen everything the other woman has ever accomplished? It’s NOT ME, Amber! You’re desperate because I DO get to you and that gives ME the power over you and you can’t fucking stand that, can you? You criticize ME for not wanting to better the division when YOU are the one crying about being bitter about the division not having competition that satisfies your needs, even going as far as running down Alicia, Roxi, and Jessie among others? It’s NOT about bettering the division for you Amber. That title, for you, is about validating your own EMOTIONALLY WEAK EXISTENCE! You’re talking about how the only thing that matters to ME is inflating my own image and reputation… yet you’re trying SO HARD to portray yourself as this know-it-all who is responsible for ‘reviving the title’ in an instance of trying to inflate your own image… and by the way, YOU are the one needing to do that. Not me. You.

Yet, NOTHING that you said to me is more ridiculous than the smoking gun… the ONE line that exposes you as being EMOTIONALLY WEAK and that will ultimately be your undoing:

When you said that you’d rather breathe your last breath than see me with the title.

That proves it.

That proves that I am in your head and under your skin. That confirms the fear in your heart of losing that title to me and the hate in your heart toward me in general and that, Amber, proves once and for all that I am FAR STRONGER… emotionally, than you are. THAT one thing proves to EVERYONE that despite ALL you’ve done, you are INSECURE WITH YOURSELF. THAT is how much you hate me, Amber? You’re THAT threatened by me? You are… and you’ll never directly admit it, but saying something so SAD and so DESPERATE PROVES that you are. That ONE line explains SO MUCH of why you were so desperate to bring me down with lies, exaggerations, opinions, and so forth and why you were so desperate to paint me as something that I’m not. It explains why you feel the need to put down anyone in your way, especially me. You’re threatened by me Amber… and you always were… dating back to your first encounter at Into the Void last year where you made the same mistake in doing nothing but slandering me and judging me with falsehoods and empty opinions that lacked any sort of merit.

What those words also prove, on top of the fact that you never addressed or accepted my desire for a rematch, is that you never wanted this rematch at all. You wanted me to go away and be one and done… because you’ve always been threatened by me.

You hate me because I am the rival and the equal that you never wanted to acknowledge… and I’m going to take that hate, that emotional weakness of yours, that desperation of yours to put me away, and I am going to use it ALL against you and I will be the one OVERCOMING YOU and becoming the NEW SCW Bombshells World Champion!

What makes me stronger than you is not just the fact that I’ve NEVER felt the need to hate you or ever felt the need to bring you down with empty words, it’s the fact that I have faced every single one of my demons, shortcomings, heartbreaks, mistakes and so much more and overcome them to be stronger and to love myself more than ever.

You, Amber? You’re too emotionally weak to do the same. You don’t choose to overcome them, you choose to live with them because you’re too weak to even WANT to fight them. It’s a damn shame that someone of your caliber is afraid of their own demons and feels the need to put others down to feel better about themselves.

It’s the difference in strength on a psychological and emotional level that will be the difference at Violent Conduct, Amber… and it’s THAT advantage that I KNOW in my heart I have over you that will propel YOU to continue to suffocate in your own misery while that same advantage will propel me to FINALLY become the world champion I have always dreamed of being on Sunday!

I hope someday, Amber… you overcome your own demons… just like I have…

And I mean that from the heart…"

With that, I continued to sit over the lake and reflect on the incredible journey and my unbelievable growth as a woman and a wrestler. One way or another, regardless of outcome, I knew in my heart that my strength inside of me would continue to grow… and there was nothing that someone like Amber Ryan could do to take ANYTHING I’ve accomplished in my career away from me no matter how desperate she is to diminish it with her empty words.