[Aaron Asphyxia]

a woman scorned 01 ★ consistency

★★★★★★★★

The night had gone, by all means, perfect as far as Aaron was concerned. Finn was still in possession of his championship, Alex hadn’t lost by any other means than one that he chose. Their feud would live on because of her, and the fans would get another showing … maybe even one that the rest of the company wanted to see. Finn being angry was always better than Finn kinda meh. And Alex? To get a shoddy deal only after three shows and thrown a miniature bone that didn’t do anything for him? She was nothing if not a Wolfslair Groupie (even though she worked there – WORKED THERE), and she wanted to see her “family” succeed. She was immensely happy with the product of her labor – if she’d pissed off her ex-husband in the process (Hint: she did), then of course, she could be even more gleeful.

She slipped away after the show went off the air and disappeared into the shadows, which was definitely a place she felt she could be. She pursed her pink lips and threw her turquoise hair over her shoulder, the click-clacks of her Louboutins the only sound as she turned corners with ease within the arena’s backstage area. She passed the locker rooms, side-stepped a production crew member, and made her way out to the parking area cordoned off for the stars.

Slipping into her rental – an Escalade, because short girls need big vehicles – she relaxed into the leather seats and let out a sigh of relief. Connecting her phone to Apple Carplay, she was able to thumb through her messages. Kallisto was crying, as expected, because she couldn’t handle it when her friends fought. Dickie was sending her the middle finger in gifs, and her best friend Genesa was in a steady stream of next steps that she’d contrived in the hopes that Aaron would actually tell her the plans that had been slowly, but surely, coming to light. Hint: she never would.

Aaron pulled the seatbelt across her lap, pressing the button to roll over the ignition and start the car. Her music kicked on, picking up from when she left the vehicle. Major Lazer’s “Lean On” filled the interior of the car at an ungodly volume. She couldn’t help herself as she pursed her lips, her torso moving in time with the music. If it were daytime, she’d probably put on her sunglasses, pull out of her parking spot, and dance with the music, snapping her fingers and using her lead foot to get to higher pastures.

She sang a bit with the lyrics, but stopped abruptly as a harsh banging sounded upon the window. She turned her head and couldn’t help but smile gleefully as she saw Kayla Richards standing there, steam pretty much billowing out of her ears.

Perfect.

Aaron rolled down the window, pressing her elbow into the arm rest and propping her head up on her palm, pressing her acrylics into her chin while she feigned interest.

“The fuck were you thinking?!” Kayla screamed at her. And continued to berate her, to the point where she easily tuned her out. Instead of bothering to listen or respond to her, Aaron cut her off, singing along with the lyrics.

“Blow a kiss,” she sang, doing the action herself, and then pointed at Kayla with her fingers shaped into a gun, “fire a gun.” She cocked back her fingers, watching the annoyance plaster itself all over the other woman’s face. And as Kayla began yelling at her again, she rolled up the window, staring straight ahead with a smirk on her face. She shifted the car into reverse and then pulled out of the spot without bothering to look at Kayla whatsoever.

Except only when she looked into the rearview mirror, much like she did many other things. You couldn’t change the past, no matter how many times that you wanted to try.

She slipped her bluetooth headset over her ear as she left the parking lot, peeling out slightly. Aaron was as much of an aggressive driver as she was an aggressive person. She had to be, considering her lot in life had only fucked her over when she’d let others make decisions for her. That was no longer, and she wasn’t sorry about it either. There was nothing more detrimental than a woman scorned, and scorned she was.

Not minutes into her drive, the carplay screen illuminated with a call. Unknown caller, is all it said, with a number from New York. She pursed her lips, and then pressed the answer button on the screen definitively. She listened for a few moments, and then rolled her eyes.

“Well I’m SORRY.” She snapped.

But she certainly didn’t sound sorry.

★★★★★★★★

Seated on the apron of a practice ring is none other than SCW’s newest Bombshell to coast into the company. She has on her signature Louboutins, a pair of ripped up, extremely tight jeans, and wears a shirt with the Wolfslair logo emblazoned across the front. Her make-up is perfectly primped and her smile is just as vicious as it was the night that she spoke with Kayla in front of the world. She presses her manicured fingers into the side of the ring, propping herself upwards, and showing virtually no lack of confidence. She’s a veteran, and it’s obvious in her posture.

“It’s kind of funny to be the person on the outside for so long that when you’re finally into the actual company and starting to live the whole experience…well…it’s not even, like, as thrilling as it could be.” Her voice has a midwestern intonation, but there is a definite bit of bitchy, catty girl behind it as she speaks. “We’re supposed to be so super-duper excited about the whole being signed by a company thing and so excited to be in the ring when we’re working with other charlatans of this god-forsaken sport that we’re just so frickin’ thankful to be here.”

She rolls her eyes slightly, and then presses one of her hands to the center of her chest, earnestly and sarcastic all at the same time.

“You should be thankful that I’m here. I’m about to fix everything for you, and that is a goddamned blessing.”

"“I know it’s a big deal to be the new person on the scene and I’m supposed to give my props to the women who came before me because they created the clusterfuck that you see, but you know what? I don’t want to give anyone props. I don’t desire to pander for affection and love from adoring fans or people that I’m working around because you know? I didn’t need ya before, and I don’t need ya now. Honestly, suck my left tit and get off my dick – none of you thrill me, none of you interest me, and if we’re being absolutely, positively open here? I’m thirty-six years of age and I could dogwalk most of you into a pile of creaky bones and tears at the cafe.

“Please,” she leans forward slightly, pursing her lips sadly, “oh please, tell me I’m wrong.” The sadness drops and she stares directly ahead with a small smirk on her lips.

“Tell me that I’m supposed to look at the roster of this company and bow down to them. Tell me I should look at Mercedes Vargas, who only rises from her grave to face someone that click-clacks down the aisle at the same slothy-speed as someone with a list of accolades, but absolutely no personality. Or am I supposed to fear Bobbie Dahl, who talks a lot of shit, but can’t seem to find her way out of a cookie jar to save herself from all of the clogged arteries in her future. Am I supposed to worry about Seleana Ze-duh-whatever-the-fuck? Bea Bore-hart?

Or really, you know, I’m shaking in my wrestlin’ boots to face Bella Madison – I could give mad respect to my Woflslair mates, but I’m a contractor and I don’t really have any kind of loyalty to anyone. Alicia Lukas…meh? Tempest might be all scary and boss-bitch, but even the biggest bitches can be tamed. Alexandra Calaway can bore me to fucking sleep on a day I’m a fuckin’ insomniac on and as far as any of you dumb fucking OnlyFans girls are parading around in the wrestling ring…honey, you’re getting paid pennies on the dollar because no one wants to see lack of ass and absolutely no fuckin’ class.

Vicky, honey, your father is likely rolling in his grave if he’s…I dunno, dead. I haven’t checked on him in years, although I suppose I should be indebted to him. Hm.”

She shrugs nonchalantly, as if it doesn’t bother her.

“His loss.”

She crosses her arms.

“The real demons in this division are a dumb bitch who follows around my ex-husband like a poor, lost puppy dog that can’t find a home to save her life because no one wants her and a hispanic champion who felled her who wants to act like she’s big and bad but can’t get over everyone else’s failures to rise to her own successes. If I wanted to hear about past bitches, I’d talk about Mark Ward’s “favorite”, and then promptly gag and shoot myself.

Nearly twenty years I’ve been rolling the dice and fighting for my rights in this world. Twenty years of blood, sweat, and tears. Twenty years where I thought I was doing the right thing and finding the right people to support my love of this sport. Twenty years of listening to the masses and trying to be a light in the darkness. Then it dawned on me: why should I care about anyone but myself? Why should I give a flying fuck about anyone else’s agenda other than my own?

Altruistic cunts get nothing in the end except played like a fiddle in a bluegrass band that thinks they’re actually relevant to the music scene.

There are so many girls and supposed women in this business who think their blown out asses actually smell like roses, and there are so many others that are simply living on borrowed time. Please tell me the last time that anyone was excited for any of the events involving anyone but Kayla Richards and Andrea Hernandez, and I will buy you a one-way trip to any destination outside of the continental United States.

Got one?”

Another lean forward, but this time, with an annoyed shrug of her shoulders and she taps her foot up and down.

“I’m waiting.

But you’re welcome, because now I’m here, and I’m here to help you fuckers get ratings. I’m here to remind a lot of you what it’s like to actually come into a company and make noise. I know you were all in your little chat rooms and text messages wondering who I was and what I could be here for. Wondering if I was just here to cause a scene or if I was actually here to be a part of the…whatever this is. Bombshells Division of Boredom? Bombshells Division of Disarray? Bumbling Bombshells? I dunno, but it’s kind of…like…pathetic.

I know what you’re thinking: you thought Kayla was a cunt? I know she’s a massive bitch and everyone loves to hate her but…

Oh no, sweeties. Aaron Asphyxia has her trumped, and yes, I am proud of that fact.

Sin City is about to have a lot of crying in the locker rooms because of hurt, whittle feelings.

I’m not sorry.”

★★★★★★★★

Aaron hated tears. She’d cried many, many times over the course of her life, but it was always over something critical rather than trivial. There had always been something within in her that turned off when the world began to look irritating and grating. She usually ended up being a stoic individual who couldn’t be shaken by harsh words or criticisms. She could recall the few times, however, in the last few years that she had cried. They could be counted on one hand, and all of them were instigated by the man that she said she’d love forever and ever, amen.

Fucking country songs never were true.

She cried when she told her husband at the time that she was pregnant. Twins. Callien had been so elated, so excited, so over-the-moon for the two of them. He’d always wanted kids so that he could show the world that even though his own family had essentially disowned him, he knew how to raise and foster love in his home. That he could be the father that his own father couldn’t be for him.

And then she cried when her sister-in-law looked down her disgustingly pale nose at the two of them for daring to have anything that took eyes off of her child.

She cried when she lost the babies. She cried when Callien began to disregard her, choosing to work at all hours of the day, and refusing to come home to console her.

She cried the day he saw her in bed with one of her students. She cried the day of their divorce proceedings, so hard that she…

…well, that’s information for another time.

Nevertheless, Aaron cried very little over the course of the marriage and subsequent separation that some people called her an unfeeling cunt. And as she sat, her arms crossed at a small, newer cafe in downtown Denver that had been opened by one of the idiots that was close enough to Finn, watching the silly girl in front of her sob her little blue eyes out over trivial things, she kept wondering if this was all worth it in the end.

Sniffling in, the blonde woman brushed her hand along her nose to keep snot from spreading, and looked at Aaron with tears still billowing in her large eyes. The girl’s blonde hair was tied into two braids and she wore a sweater and jeans with Uggs on her feet – typical attire for a cold, Colorado day, when snow whipped around and destroyed the comfort of nearly six million Coloradans on an annual basis.

Aaron’s eyebrows raised. Despite being a resident of the half-plain, half-mountainous state, she’d long since forgone comfort in the face of fashion. She only wore heels, she only dressed with designer jeans and the jacket that she wore over her ratted, high-dollar t-shirt was pure leather. There was a houndstooth wool coat laying on the chair next to them, leather gloves laying neatly atop them.

“I…I don’t understand…” Kallisto murmured, her lip quivering. “Can you…can you tell me again?”

Aaron sighed. Kallie Reznik, who no longer wrestled for SCW but was still very much invested in the company, was her protege. Her wrestling ward. She was a mentor for a woman who wanted to be great but found every opportunity to screw it up for herself. Still, despite being the unfeeling bitch, she cared for the girl and wanted to make sure that she was getting all of the attention on her sport, as well as mentorship. Which meant that she had to assuage fears and make sure that Kallie was safe in everything she did.

“I went down to support Finn.” She began to explain. Again. For the third time.

“Because he’s your ex?”

“Because he needed support and no one is providing that for him now,” Aaron’s tone was not condescending, but it was a little patronizing. Kallie sniffled in.

“If Finn wanted it, Kayla would have been there.”

“I doubt that, Kallisto.” Aaron interjected, and waited a moment for her mentee to respond. When she didn’t argue, Aaron continued. “In reality, all of Wolfslair should have been down there supporting both of them. But that’s the thing about Finn – he’s never really willing to do what needs to be done. But I wanted to make sure that he knew I was aware of that, and would do everything to help him. He just had to do the right thing.”

Another sniffle, and Kallie looked up at her. “But a chair?”

“It could’ve been done. I would have distracted the referee, and Finn could have just gotten rid of the whole thing. But he didn’t do it, and Alex got mad. So he used the chair and wrecked his chance.”

“But that’s not fair for Alex either!”

“No, it’s not. But you and I both know it’s not done, sweetie.” Aaron reached over the table and held Kallie’s hand. She cringed slightly as she realized it was covered in snot, but she didn’t let go either. “Alex and Finn will go at each other again, and we’ll actually have a match that isn’t just Finn doing his job and Alex coming after someone who doesn’t care.”

Kallie pursed her lips, the bottom one still quivering a bit. “But I don’t…”

“Kallie, it will all make sense eventually. Don’t fret about it. I’m sure Aiden and his stupid little bestie are having an angry laugh about it all, but at the end of the day, it really only matters that I’m here to help Finn again. And you. Always.” Aaron glanced at her phone as it lit up. A text message had come through from the same number. She tilted her head. “Listen, I’m going to speak with Finn and see if we can get on the same page. I know there were issues between the two of us before, but I promise I’m only here to help him see the light of things. And besides, I’m also hoping I can help him see the error of his ways.”

“E-error?” Kallie questioned, tilting her head as she tried to inhale through the remains of her sobbing, a spasm rocking her still.

“Of course. Kayla.”

“But Finn loves Kayla. And really, Aaron, Kayla isn’t so bad. She helps me out when you’re not around and she’s always there when I need her. I don’t understand why you would want to separate them.”

Aaron frowned slightly. In reality, it was easy for her not to show her frustration when Kallie was around, but that was simply because it was easy to turn off all emotions and just exist. She had a goal, she had a need, and she would meet both with a frenzy, regardless of others. “Could you think that maybe I still am in love with him?”

Kallie’s eyes widened, and she stared at Aaron with her mouth dropping open slightly. She shook her head. “But…but you hurt him so badly.”

“I know. And I’ve apologized a million times over, and maybe…” she clutched harder to that snot-covered hand, smiling sadly again, “maybe he also might feel that. If I show him that I can help him, like I used to do. You know, I trained him. I pulled him up from the gutter and I made him who he is. I don’t want thanks for that, I just want him to remember that once upon a time, he did care about me like I was the most important thing on earth. Until…well…you don’t need to know all that…”

“Nonono, tell me! Until what?”

Oh, it was so easy to lead everyone around. Kayla. Kallie. The only one that knew her tactics was Finn, but eventually, he too would fall to her wiles. Again. But Kallie, right now, she loved the drama, loved to know stories about her friends and people. It probably came from the fact that her father loved mythology and instilled that in her, but at the end of the day, it didn’t matter. It was the one flaw that Aaron could exploit.

Kindly, of course.

“Well. I think Finn stopped caring about me a lot when his sister-in-law was around. You know. Elena.”

Kallie’s face grew dark and she bit her lip. She’d obviously heard the name a lot, and though she didn’t know her personally, enough of Finn’s stupid brother’s complaining would have given her enough to know.

“Elena was always jealous of everyone that hung around any man that she was around. Her husbands, of course, and I mean, Alex too. But Finn, she tried to drive everyone away from him. She got so frustrated with my presence in So Cal that we had a fight, and the only reason that we never finished was because I got injured. By her. She said she was sorry, but I don’t think she was…”

Aaron raised her hand and shrugged her shoulders. “Anyway, I think she infected him with poison about me. And I’m still trying to fix it. I did something wrong…but I can fix that. And I think somewhere deep down, he still loves me. He just doesn’t want to admit it.”

Kallie bit her lip again and shook her head slightly. “I don’t think so…and even if he did, Kayla….”

“You let me worry about Kayla, okay?” Aaron pulled her hand back and smiled slightly. “She and I will have our little war and when it’s all good and done, Finn will be with the person that he loves most regardless. I know you like her, Kallie, and I won’t begrudge that, but I think I have a little bit of a special weapon.”

Kallie leaned in. “What is it?” She couldn’t resist a secret.

“Can you keep it secret, Kallie?”

“Yes!”

Aaron smiled brightly, and she folded her hands in her lap, appearing the most smug. Of course, she could, because she did have a secret weapon in her arsenal. She opened her mouth, and she told her that secret. Kallie gasped. It would all come to light soon, but having Kallisto know?

Priceless.

There were not going to be any more tears for Aaron after all.

★★★★★★★★

“If there is anything that bothers me in this business, I think that it’s the complete lack of consistency. There are women in this company alone that can’t even give their bosses any kind of respect by consistently showing up and doing what they’re paid for. When it comes to professionalism and doing your job, it also should be that you give your all in every match. Every.” Aaron slaps a closed fist into her other hand, making a satisfying smacking sound.  “Damn.” Another smack. “Time.” With emphasis.

“I guess, you know, I’m like, new here, but it doesn’t take anyone with any kind of brains to see that my opponent this week on Climax Control has a severe lack of consistency. I mean, it happens, right? It’s kind of the detriment of the weaklings in this sport – you don’t win, why the hell would you wanna do more the next week? I mean, people proclaimed that for me, but you know what? Never really has been my issue.

What has been my issue is everyone getting patted on the back for it and given another chance to survive.

I don’t care who Prudence Pierce was. I don’t care that she’s part of some stupid rock band, I don’t care that she has been in this company since her own birth. I don’t care what her history is, but for some dumb fucking reason, that’s all she can sit on and talk about in every goddamned promo she has. This blonde little girl comes bopping down to a song sung by a drug addict who drowned in a bathtub and expects us to see her as a threat.”

Aaron crosses her arms as she shakes her head slightly, giggling almost with so much mirth she wouldn’t be able to stop.

“A threat.” Her face screws up into an expression of fear and worry. “She’s better than all of us, didn’t you know? I mean, she tells us every time and then,” she sighs, bats her eyelashes and then…drops the entire act and purses her lips again, snickering as she does so, “she loses seven matches in a row. I’m not really worried about a threat here as much as I am worried about making sure she actually shows up and does a decent job.

Look, what kind of name even is Prudence? We all change ourselves, sometimes even our names, to portray something on that wrestling stage. Prudence. The name either means the ability to govern or discipline, to show shrewdness or to show skill and good judgment.

The bitch can’t even show up half the time to do her job to promote a match, she cannot even be her name. Prudence might as well be Poof-dence at this point.”

She throws up her hands for a second, before dropping them in dismay.

“And I know she’s supposed to be a new, updated version of Ruby Steele and I’m supposed to care about that, but really…it’s like the Mercedes Vargas curse that history is the only thing that makes this girl talk. July, she talked about how she got publicly humiliated and fired and talked about her grievances with people from her past that haven’t been relevant for a long while. There was a lot of whining, a lot of you did this to me! How dare! A lot of inane, trivial shit that doesn’t matter at the end of the day. Ya did good then…because the person you faced also did the same shit, but then…”

She shrugs her shoulders, lifting her nose in disdain and shaking her head in disappointment.

“...nothing when you weren’t interested in the person you were facing. You had a chance to be something special the next week, and then…literally showed us you were bored and didn’t want to face people in your history. It’s up and down like a goddamn roller coaster on when you really think you can win versus when you really just suck because you can’t pull yourself up to even show you care about your job.

First of all, no one cares about the history, they care about what you’re going to do, Pru-Pru. Talking for eons about the possible legacy of your sad and pathetic career – eleven seventeen, mind you – is a surefire way to bore the pants off of anyone with a brain. But that’s what you do when you think the going is going to be tough and you want to show off. You bore us. To death. With your history.

What are you going to do with something new?

I’m something new. Are you going to tell me that I’m just a dumb bimbo following Kayla around for notoriety? That you have so much skills in your little, cute body that you’re just gonna walk all over me because I’m the newcomer? That the only thing interesting about me is that I have pretty hair? Yes, I have pretty hair. It’s way prettier than yours. Yours gets roots in two days and mine constantly is kept up because I care about my appearance at all times. You clearly don’t because you can’t even be assed to get up and do a promo that isn’t done in a minute and a half and does fuck all.

Oh but, here, let me continue. You go from history-dwelling to…marginally-depressing gaslighting?” Aaron throws her head back as dramatically as Scarlette O’Hara and places the top of her hand against her forehead. “Oh I won a Blast From the Past Tournament and now I’m just nothing…”

She closes her eyes, sniffling in. Then, she opens one eye, her eyebrow raising along with it.

“I don’t think you actually know who you are, sweetheart. It’s like…looking at someone with multiple personality disorder that goes one week being maudlin to joyous and peppy to calling everyone losers. Getting a little bit spicy and then when you don’t win again, like, oh mi god, why am I even here?!”

She drops her pose again, pressing her hands to the top of her knee and smiling slightly.

“Do you have any concept of who you actually are, Prudence, or do you just think that the only way to prove you’re anything in this business is by winning? Because the only thing that could help you to survive this fallout is to prove that everyone isn’t correct about you. That everyone hasn’t said the same thing over and over again and you just fail to change. Consistency is key, and let me tell you, in abundance, that consistently failing does not mean consistently sucking. It’s only when you decide to do nothing.

And nine times out of ten, Pru-Pru, you do nothing. You don’t show any desire to be here, you don’t try to come out of your shell and your surface promotionals. And that is disappointing. It’s not worth anyone’s time. It’s certainly not worth mine.

So let me tell you how this is going to go. I’m going to come out there and I’m going to stand across from you in my cute little wrestling gear and you’re going to half-heartedly come at me, and I’m going to tear you from limb to limb. I am not nice, I am not kind, and I don’t care if you’ve had a bad year. I don’t feel sorry for you, Prudence. Even in my twenty years being in this business, I haven’t dropped in my speed. I haven’t fallen by the wayside. I’ve sat on the sidelines, but I have trained women far better than anyone who has walked into this company. I have worked with people you would die to work with.

I helped train our World Heavyweight Champion, and look where he is now.

I will throw you across that ring, I will break you if I have to. You’ll be pulled into my little traps and there will be nothing you can do because you’re a basic, bottom level bitch with absolutely no ability to see your failures and grow.

It’s a disappointment.

You’re a disappointment.

Honestly, get fucked. And get out, and stay out of my ring, Pru-Pru.”