Heartfelt Neon Nights
Scene One | Off-camera
Inconsolable was a good way to describe Luna. She had taken the loss pretty hard. Her fears before the match may have actually been her undoing. The anxiety, the unsureness. The fear. It couldn’t have helped in the very least. That didn’t change the fact that she was a right mess. The remainder of the cruise had been less than desirable. She was certain her liver was hanging on by a thread, and if Alex wasn’t drafting the divorce papers it’d be a damn miracle. Not that anyone would know. Smile on, mimosa in hand and pretending like the world wasn’t crushing her beneath its weight. That was the way forward.
Behind closed doors though, a wailing witch. Distraught, in agony. No one to blame but herself, and far over-reacting. Most people would be sour on themselves for a day or so, wipe themselves down and dust themselves off, and be ready to go again. To bounce back. For better or worse, Luna just wasn’t that kind of person. A master of masking, but a terrible sook full of uncontrolled emotions in the dull light of their bedroom.
She was happy for him. He’d retained the Roulette Championship, he’d shocked everyone with the alliance with Kevin Carter and J2H. Another star making performance from the man who just wanted to be free. Further ingratiating himself into the bedrock and foundation of Sin City. For her? Just another routine day. Another failed championship opportunity. Another failed outing on her own. Another thing for people to laugh at her and mock her with. The nattering and incessant humble brags of everyone else. She was almost starting to understand how the likes of Ariana Angelos and Krystal Wolfe may have felt. Having the world hate them for simply not having the right amount of success.
But Alex had given her the time she needed. The time to mope. To cry, to scream. To have her hair brushed and her skin care applied. She’d had the time to recover, and now he was going to have to talk to her. Ask her questions. To be the voice of reason that she needed, even if she didn’t want it. Just another thing she put upon the man who already held the world upon his shoulders.
“What’s next, Lu?” Alex asked, a cigarette hanging from his lips. Staring out into Tokyo. Into the Neon coloured world that existed beyond their balcony. They’d be lucky to have any lungs left after this trip. Cheap booze, cheap cigarettes and cheap food. It would normally be heaven.
“I don’t know. I don’t know what’s next. I don’t know how to bounce back from this one.” Luna said, crossing her legs as she curled up next to him. A two-person seat for their window in the beauty beyond.
“These are the ones that hurt the most. These losses? They’re the ones that cut the deepest. The hardest to bounce back from. The sheer confidence, the hubris, the arrogance. All of it needed to be in that situation, and to come up short? It’s heartbreaking. Hell, I wanted to walk away forever last time. Leave my boots in the ring, and become a house husband. Trophy husband. The pretty thing on your arm.” Alex said, laughing a little to himself. Even now he was still full of himself.
“How did you do it? How’d you bounce back?” Luna asked, breathing heavily. Eyes fixed on the neon lights.
“I threatened to staple dick drawings to someone, and got you involved in a bloody battle where you put a woman on the shelf for an unknown amount of time. I threw my lot in with two men who nobody would have ever thought I’d be at the side of. I started to demand attention, entered that same tournament as you. Threw everything I had left at the wall, and found what would stick. I don’t think I ever fully bounced back, but I was half-checked out before it. You know the difference between us is though?” Alex continued on, turning to look at her more. Blowing rings of smoke into the sky.
“Well, you’ve got bigger boobs than me, and an extra appendage.” She said, tried to lighten things up a little. A light tap of her nose in response.
“Okay, that’s a couple differences. The main difference? You’re a natural at this. You’re better than I ever was. You’re quicker, stronger and smarter. You picked it up without even thinking. You’re a two-time champion in a year. In twelve months you won the gold twice. No matter what anyone tries to say. To tear that accomplishment down. They’re mad that they can’t stack up. That they can't do what you’ve done in the time you’ve done it. They’re mad they spent their lives trying to get better, and they don’t even fucking come close to you. You’re better than I ever was, and you’ll continue to be better. I believe in you, Lu. You just need to keep believing in yourself too.” Alex said.
Once upon a time it was like trying to get blood from a stone trying to get any level of emotional response from the man. He was far more communicative and far more liberal with the niceties these days. It didn’t make them any less impactful whenever he had them though. Her heart sang with a momentary hope. A warmth at the idea of him seeing her so highly.
“You’re too sweet, Lexi-baby. Far too sweet.” Luna said, nestling herself deeper into his side, resting her head on his chest. Reaching up and taking the cigarette from his lips for a slow, long drag of it herself. She didn’t believe him, but it was nice to know he thought of her that way.
“Sweet, maybe. Honest, definitely. You’re going to the moon, Lu. You just gotta keep going. Trust me. It’ll click, and when it does? I feel sorry for any person standing between you and your goals. You’ll knock ‘em dead.” Alex said, she could feel the smile on his face. She could feel the faith, the warmth, and the belief. For a moment, she even thought he was right. If only for a moment.
“Speaking of people I feel sorry for. You want to hit the town? Scare a few locals? Friend of ours is on their way to spend the night with us.” Alex asked, a quizzical cocking of the eyebrow from her as she sat up. Adrienne couldn’t afford to get a taxi to the end of the street, let alone jet across the world. There was also no way Alex was trusting her with that kind of money. So who the hell was he talking about?
A knock at the door. Heavy, deliberate and… familiar. Three steady and sturdy knocks, and then nothing. Alex nodded as he started to stand up, forcing her to her feet too.
“Who?” Luna asked, but Alex simply jetted off into the bathroom, leaving her to open the door herself. Her brain couldn’t comprehend who would be here in Japan, let alone in their hotel room, ready to go out on the town with them. She was even more surprised Alex had managed to keep this sort of surprise to himself, especially considering her sorry state.
She got to the door, opened it a little and looked between the latch and the opening. As soon as she saw who it was though? The latch was off, the door was flung open, and she was leaping onto the large man standing on the other side.
“Harry! What the hell are you doing here?” She exclaimed, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, placing a big kiss on his cheek, pulling his enormous frame downward with her. She was quite aware that he was letting her do so, because there was no way her tiny ass would actually be weighing him down in the slightest.
“I happened to be in town on business. Alexander said you were feeling blue, and I told him I’d come over and beat him purple and black for not keeping you from feeling blue. Funny how things work out for the best sometimes.” Harrison said. He sounded more Irish than he used. Going back home had definitely thickened it back up. The Americanisation was still there, but he sounded more like she remembered from when she was younger. The strong, no nonsense man she had befriended.
“You two are fucking cunts for keeping this a secret.” Luna said, finally letting her arms drop from around his neck. Harrison smiled at her, and she noticed how much more full of life he looked. Healthier, happier and alive. He was as solid as ever, but maybe had put on just a little weight? He looked good. It was amazing what distancing himself from the leech that was Sullivan Pleasant could do.
“For the record, he wanted to tell you. So, the only cunt would be me in this scenario.” Alex said coming out of the bathroom. He’d run some water over his head and face, so she assumed that was about all he was going to do to get ready for a night out on the town. She however did not think they were going out, so she was far from ready. Which the more she thought about it, may have been part of Alex’s plan. Business with Harrison was far from an innocent affair, and it was too convenient for the two of them to be talking for the sake of it.
“I’m going to go get ready. Don’t you two get too excited without me.” Luna said, as she stepped back into the hotel room, followed by the near seven foot behemoth that was Harrison. She noticed a shared look between Alex and Harrison. A nod, a silent understanding. Part of her wanted to know. But she knew better. She knew it had to be to do with Sullivan Pleasant. Had to have to do with Vita Mors, and as much as she had become comfortable with the dream walking. She knew that something had to be done.
Alex needed to be free of the demon in his head, and there was no one better than Harrison Rines to help him get that done. She sighed inwardly and walked into the bathroom. Leaving them to their devices. Sometimes she wished she knew normal people.
What’s Next, Icarus?
Scene Two | On-camera
“Back to the beginning.”Luna Pasilno is sitting on the bathroom floor. The pristine white tiles looked freshly cleaned, shimmering in the bright lights of the bathroom. Simple leggings, a black short-sleeve top. Her hair tied back in the usual double braids. Her knees pulled into her chest, her head resting on her knees, staring off into the distance. Eyes raw, make-up smeared.
“For Icarus flew too close to the sun, and paid for his hubris. Wings made of wax will simply melt under the warmth of the sun. Sing for me little songbird, and let your voice be heard. For the canary in the mine only sings when death approaches. Or some other trite thing. I don’t know. Call me melancholic, maybe my husband has rubbed off on me more than I thought. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. The only thing that matters is the truth, and truth? I wasn’t good enough.”
“In that final moment, I just wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t quick enough, I wasn’t strong enough. I didn’t want it enough, and so at the end of it all. Everyone got exactly what they wanted. Luna Pasilno flat on her back, and looking up into the stars above. Almost good enough, but just not quite. A failure. Just like everyone was saying. A failure. Just like Kayla said, a failure. Unable to even get there, let alone carry the weight of the world on my wax wings. Not the Idol in that moment, but still the Queen of unfounded vanity. Still the bitch with a mouth making cheques my ass can’t cash. Or whatever it was that Samantha Marlowe once said. What did I expect?”Laughter, whispers. The air is full of ambient noise, familiar and unfamiliar voices. Mocking voices.
‘Failure. Weakling. Useless. Whore.’[/b] Unintelligible whispering mixed in with the mocking ones. Then more laughter. So much laughter.
“Here’s a fun little fact. Kim Pain was the last person I beat one on one. September 17th of last year. That was the last time I did anything on my own. That I beat someone on my own merit. So where did I get off thinking that a zap in the ass and a streak of wins was going to amount to anything? That I was simply going to walk into Summer XXXTreme and dethrone quite possibly the most dominant woman that Sin City Wrestling has ever seen? The worst part of being me? I believe my own hype. I actually believed that because I got all the way through the Blast from the Past. That somehow, someway. I was actually going to be ready for this. That I was going to be better than I had been every other day. Not just better, but the best. The best I could be. The best that anyone has ever been.”
“But the truth? I’m still just that scared, angry little girl. The one who sold her body to save her soul. The whore that they all called me. The weakling, the freak. The fucking failure. I am nothing but a failure. That’s what I learnt at that moment. That no matter how good I am, no matter how much I try. I won’t be good enough. That’s what I thought anyway. That’s where my brain was. My mind. As I sat, whimpering and shivering. Begging for all the pity in the world, cause woe is me, I am not the Idol I seek to be. And then Alex took me in his arms. Held me and let me scream. Let me cry. Let me be angry, be sad, be frustrated. He let me experience my pain, and when I had no tears left. No more voices to cry out with. No more emotion to shed. He looked me in the eyes and asked one question.”‘What’s next, Lu?’More laughter. More mockery.
‘What’s next, loser? What’s next, whore? What’s next, weakling?’ Unified laughter, all the voices and tones coming together. She closes her eyes tightly, and covers her ears, shaking her head. Attempting to shake the voices from her mind. To clear her head.
“I didn’t have an answer for him. I still don’t have an answer. I don’t know what’s next. I’m so used to hiding within myself. Of destroying myself. Of tearing my own walls down so as to be as raw on the outside as I am on the inside. I do not know what to do next, because I didn’t have any other plans. I was fixated. I was obsessed. I was stuck in this dream that I could be better than I was. So now I have to think. Now I have to work it out. Work out what is next. Work out how I stop this spiral from happening. To change the success. To get that win, to be better than I was. To silence the naysayers. To shut the false humble cunts the fuck up. I have to work out how to bite off the fucking nose of the insipid cows that flaunt themselves around like they matter.”
“What’s next? What’s next is I put the fucking boots to another relic of yesteryear who thinks they can simply waltz the fuck back in and be something. I’m talking about you Song. I’m talking about the woman who took a spot at Climax Control 400, from every fucking woman who has been here week in and week out, busting our fucking asses. I’m talking about the cunt who took a spot at Summer XXXTreme that belonged to any other person who at least had the decency to be here. To do more than simply turn the fuck up when it was convenient. So now? Now you’ve got me. You’ve got the weak, whimpering weakling that is Luna Pasilno. The failure, the Queen of unearned vanity. The False fucking Idol of Sin City Wrestling. Lady Icarus who flew too close to the sun with wings made of wax, but if you think that means I am not going to fucking tear you apart? You’ve got another thing coming.”
“You see? I might be down on myself. I might be hurting, but I am fucking angry. I have nothing left. Nothing to lose. Everything to fucking gain, and what do they do to try and placate that? They throw you at me. They throw another falsely humble fucking cow at me. To see if I can bounce back? To see how angry I am. To see if I still have that fire that I had when I ended Samantha Marlowe? To see if I can still throw down with the queens of yesteryear. Making a fucking habit out of embarrassing those who stroll about and act like they mean fucking anything. You, Song? You’re in the fucking way.”She continues shaking her head, and then she screams. All the voices, the whispers, the laughter drowned out and silence. She jumps up to her feet and continues to scream, pulling at her hair, digging her nails into the side of her face. Pulling and scratching at her own skin. Screaming for the voices to stop.
And then silence.
Her face streaked with red nail marks, her eyes wet with angry tears. Heavy breathing as she attempts to find some composure. To find something in herself.
“It’s a cliche at this point to say you don’t know anything about someone. That they aren’t on your radar, that you haven’t bothered to look into them. The main problem being, I really don’t know who you are, Song. I know you’re someone of old import. That you took people’s spot, and that you had a better time on that cruise than I did. I know that they’re throwing another person of experience and veteran status at me, to test me. To see if I can really shape up against today’s crop, by continuing to hurt those who brought things to where they are. Maybe, just maybe, they’re hoping I’ll add you to the same list as all the others. Kat Jones, Kim Pain, Samantha Marlowe and Crystal whatever name she is using at the time. Maybe, they’re hoping to placate me by giving me this match. A chance to get my win back, as it were.”
“I’ll tell you what I think of it all, Song. I think it’s a lot of crap. I think what is here is insulting. I think it’s insulting that women like Alexandra Calaway and Eiley were presented opportunity after opportunity to prove themselves and continue to fail, but are never called on it. I think it’s insulting that I have to sit here and smile whilst Juliana DiMaria continues to dribble out complete horseshit, thinking that she actually has changed in the slightest. The false humility is sickening. I think, Song, I think that you’re just here to upset me. A test to see if I can bounce back, but also a test to see if I’ll just falter even more. To collapse beneath the weight of my own arrogance. Hopefully silence the upstart little lady with a mouth to match.”
“But I’m not going to let these things get to me. I’m not going to simply sit here and simper. I’m not going to keep crying, and screaming. I’m not going to let this break me. I might not know what is next, but if next is through you, than I’ll punch a fucking hole in your chest to climb through. If next is from breaking you in half, then I will snap you like a fucking twig. If I have to, I will, and I will because I need to. You get me, Song? Do you understand? I hope you do. I hope you know better than to simply pretend like this is just another run of the mill match. To pretend that you are stepping into the ring with someone like Ariana Angelos. I’m having a bad fucking run of it, and I’m tired of being seen as a loser. I’m tired of being overlooked. I’m tired of being lesser. I’m just fucking tired.”She takes a deep breath in and places both hands over her face, hiding it in her palms. She backs up slowly, bumping into a marble topped sink. Her back reflected in the mirror, her hair disheveled and starting to come undone where she was pulling at it. Another deep breath, running her hands slowly down her face, wiping away the tears and lightening the scratches a little. Smearing her make-up further. Matching the look to the seeming insanity overcoming her.
“I’m going to show them all. I’m going to win it all. I’m going to fucking prove it all. I’ll start from the bottom again and I’ll claw my fucking way to the top. I’ll punch a hole through your chest, I’ll bite Victoria’s fucking mousey little nose off. I’ll tear Juliana’s vocal cords from her throat and wear them as a fucking necklace. Then, once I’ve hurt every single person. Once I’ve proven that no one from Song to Kat Jones, to Amber Ryan and even Kayla fucking Richards is on my level. I’ll have that shot at the World Title again. I’ll put whoever is there squarely in the crosshair and I’ll take their fucking head off. I’ll break their bodies and tear all the muscles in their legs to shreds. I’ll break every single one of them, because that? That is what I know how to do. That is how I know to survive. That’s how I know to fucking fight. In blood, sweat and tears, I’ll bathe in every part of them.”
“So eyes open, Song. You’re just the start of a long line of people who are going to learn. A long line of what is next. A long line of bodies that will prove who the fuck Luna Pasilno is. So when I walk to the ring, and remind everybody that there is a God. There is a God and she is me. The Idol, the Masochist or the resident fucking psycho of Sin City Wrestling. Doesn’t matter how you know me, doesn’t matter how you see me. Doesn’t matter if I love you, or I hate you. Everyone is going to feel the pain I feel. Everyone is going to hurt, because it’s the only thing I know how to do. Win or lose, it doesn’t matter anymore. As long as I make you hurt. As long as I can go home, and Alex can wash my hair. Can patch the wounds and tell me how proud he is. To love me for who I am, because nobody else can. I’m going to fucking hurt you Song, and I’m not sorry for it.”She smiles a little as she stands up straighter. Turning to face herself in the mirror. Looking past herself. Looking past her own reflection. A playful wink and then…
Darkness.
Silence.
Nothing.
