[Christian Underwood]

Please post all roleplays here! Have fun and good luck!

[Andrea Hernandez]

I really didn’t want to think about SCW at one point.

It wasn’t long ago I was in my backyard, alone: ignoring texts and calls from people wanting to check up on me, not enjoying anything positive, including the fact that I recently won a 5th world title outside of SCW. I could only think about that last match.

I really didn’t want to tell anyone it was destroying me on the inside.


“Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse…”

The shame inside of me was spreading like a virus. That feeling of my heart and soul being sucked out of me after Summer Xtreme five years ago was a feeling that I was hoping to never feel again.

But there I was, just in a numb silence, the unthinkable thought that I was able to push off for months but now I couldn’t…

“Summer of Hell 2.0…”

To say that I was in a panic wondering what I had to do to avoid that was an understatement and yet, in that moment of weakness where I was praying to my father, or someone in heaven, or anything spiritual that may exist, I got an answer…

…from the worst source imaginable.

“Give it up, Andrea…” I could hear the doubt from the demon of insecurity that finally resurfaced for the first time in years.  “...it’s time to admit that this ‘redemption’ you’ve been doing has failed…”

“Shut up…” I said to that demon inside of my own mind.

“When are you going to admit that you’re never going to have what you want from SCW? Why do you have to be stupid to think that things were ever going to be different when things are going to end up exactly the same? Face it. You’re on the bridge to nowhere. You’ve already given in to the same shit you gave into 5 years ago so you might as well give in and let me out…”

“...I can’t do that to myself or to the people that care about me again…” I said, weakly resisting.

“If you’re not going to let me take over, then leave…” the demon inside of me retorted. “...you did it before. You’d never have to worry about SCW and all its stresses ever again…”

“You’re right… I wouldn’t…”

“Now you’re listening. You’re too stubborn to leave and in that case, there’s only one thing to do. Let me out, Andrea.”

The tears were falling down my face. There was a majority piece of me that had already thrown in the towel. I knew I had too much pride to just walk away and “prove everyone else right”. But after what just happened, I didn’t feel like I could go back and face the music. It felt like the only option that I had was to let the darkness within me win out and just embrace the same old movie all over again.

“LET ME OUT!!!! You know you can’t change the narrative. You know you’ll always be a pariah and you’ll never be respected. You know the slander is never going to stop and you’re never going to get anyone else to see you as you want to be seen…”

Being so shot and broken as I was, what was the use of resisting anymore? The demon in me was by no means lying and I always knew what it just said as fact even though for months I had been denying it to myself.

“Don’t you remember the cruise? Five years ago?” the demon inside me reminded me. That’s where you bottomed out. You might as well let it happen on that cruise again. If you continue to resist me, everything’s going to get worse and you’ll be seen as a joke… just like Crystal Hilton…”

“...that’s where you’re wrong…” I meekly resisted as the tears continued to flow. I was feeling myself about to break into a complete anxiety attack and it was clear that I was triggered back into the same brutal trauma I suffered through five years ago.

“Stop trying to justify your failure! When I was in control, you were the most dominant you’ve ever been in SCW…”

“I NEVER won a world title there when I was the most hated bitch in the company…”

“But you weren’t suffering so much and having your passion sucked out of you, am I right?”

“Leave me alone… just leave me alone…”

“Not until you let me out or get the fuck out…”

My internal conflict was interrupted by my phone ringing very loud. I saw it was a text from Myra with an “urgency” mark on it. I figured it was an emergency so I read it.

“MIAMI! MY SCHOOL! ASAP!” she wrote in all caps. I knew this side of Myra when she was very pissed off and suddenly, I had a completely different reason to have an anxiety attach. “I am SO PISSED at you and tbh, been disappointed in you for MONTHS! Get your ass here. NOW!”

I exhaled feeling relief, yet worry knowing I had angered Myra somehow. For now, the demon within me had left me alone. However, Myra Rivers, for all that she can do to help, is a completely different monster when she’s pissed off at you…

Two days later…

Normally, I’d look forward to going to South Beach but…

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Myra asked me the moment she saw me. “Fortunately, I did this on a day where I know my students aren’t here but… are you fucking kidding me?”

“Fuck her…” I can already hear my inner darkness saying.

“Don’t say a FUCKING WORD, Andrea…” Myra added while my anxiety was increasing with her anger. “I know exactly what the fuck is wrong with you. A match like that, you don’t throw away… unless you’re allowing something so fucking stupid and irrelevant eat at you which you have been for months now. Even subconsciously, all you can think about is how you don’t want everything to play out the same and yet you’re literally manifesting it…”

“Oh FUCK OFF…” I thought to myself. My eyes widened not because of what Myra was saying, but because that was a moment where the darkness in me and I merged.

“...in fact, the moment the Chamber was even announced, you gave up!”

Anger was building in me even further.

“Don’t let her talk to you this way…” that darkness told me. “Who is she to say a fucking thing about your SCW career?”

“You decided you were going to just lie down and quit before the match even happened and then you spiraled further afterward. Your passion DIED in that chamber, Andrea…”

“Hit her where it hurts, Andrea. You know you want to. You know that there’s a piece of you that could never stand her anyway…”

“You’ve done nothing but coast ever since, sticking with the same platitudes and playing it way too fucking safe… when you actually TRY! You weren’t even TRYING in that match and now you’re over there giving me that stupid pity face and dealing with being torn up inside over YOUR OWN FUCKING FAULT!”

I was biting the inside of my lower lip with rage as she continued.

“You need to wake the fuck up and stop holding yourself back because what I saw in that last match was someone that didn’t even want to be there all because you’re rising to the same shit that plunged you into the darkness five years ago. What do you have to say for yourself, embarrassing yourself like that?”

I didn’t have an immediate answer being so torn in my internal conflict. Myra just scoffs, showing how annoyed she was with me.

“Typical. You’ve never been able to handle criticism well, justified in this case or bullshit like all the shit you deal with. This is why I didn’t want you to go back to SCW because I KNEW this was going to happen…”

That did it for me.

“You quit SCW! Why the FUCK do you have a right to say anything, you self-righteous BITCH?”

“EXCUSE ME?”

“Get her…” that darkness told me. “GET HER!”

“YOU, Myra are the LAST person that should be talking about ANYONE giving up especially as far as SCW is concerned because that’s what YOU did three years ago, REMEMBER?”

“Oh no, you are NOT deflecting this back at me! You don’t get to throw that shit back at me just because you want to run away from your fucking problems.”

I merely scoff at this without so much batting an eye and I can see it was Myra’s eyes widening, almost as if she was realizing what side of me she was dealing with.

“Running away from my problems… says the weakling that had to QUIT because she kept letting down her daughter…”

“THERE YOU GO… FUCK HER!!!!” that darkness blurted out while Myra was seething with some deep-seated anger. 

“Andrea…” Myra let out a deep breath doing everything in her power to avoid tapping into HER demons. “...you need to wake the fuck up or get the fuck out because that performance was pathetic of you and you deserve BETTER than to sleepwalk through a match just because you’re in your feelings about what other people think of you.”

“Whatever…”

“Get the fuck out of my sight, Andrea…”

Myra walked away from me and I didn’t even bother saying a word to her.

“Remember…” my inner darkness began to remind me. “...you were far more dominant without HER holding you back…”

Internally, however, I was instantly feeling awful about the way I just treated her to the point where tears were forming in my eyes.

“Fuck her… you don’t need her. You need ME… let me out. It’s the only way!”

I wanted to catch up to her and apologize, but I knew the damage was done already. I walked out of her school feeling more defeated than ever…

Last Sunday…

I was packing up for the cruise even though I knew I didn’t even want to go. That familiar dread was filling me as I NEVER liked going on it nor did I like the Summer XXXtreme event itself. I had just about finished packing the last bag that I had while I was drowning in the guilt that I had over how I treated Myra and the feeling of worthlessness and completely undeserving of the match that I was to partake in on the cruise. I took a few deep breaths trying to keep that internal demon from saying anything to me because after that fight with Myra, I had already had enough.

“Andrea?” I heard the familiar voice of my mother. I looked at her and I could see she had something in her purse, though I didn’t pay it any mind aside from that.

“Look… Mom… this really isn’t the time to talk to me.”

“I’ve seen the way you’ve been struggling and the way your body language and happiness falls off a cliff whenever you either mention SCW or have to go to one of their events…”

“Mom…” I briefly paused to let out a sigh. “I’ve already gotten the ‘get out there’ speech from Myra and I KNOW you hate that company even worse than she does.”

“I wasn’t going there, actually…”

I widened my eyes with surprise.

“It would be in your worst interest to leave because then you wouldn’t live with yourself and it’d affect you for the rest of your career and they’re not worth that. I know that you dread the cruise and you have nothing but bad memories but you’re not going to let those memories nor are you going to let those people win…”

“Mom…” I said with a very audible groan. “...I appreciate that you’re TRYING to help and that you’re rising above that ‘leave’ nonsense, but considering how distant you’ve been from this whole thing on your own volition, I’m not sure how you can help me.”

“I beg to differ, Andrea. The cruise has bad memories for you all because of one experience you had five years ago. Nothing bad has happened to you since then, but every year you always dread it and I know for you, that dread is even higher this year because of what you’ve been going through for months. You can fight through this, just like you did five years ago.”

“I’m not sure if I can….” I admitted. “Myra and I got into this huge fight the other day and one of the first, and worst, symptoms of me plunging back into the darkness I was in before is her and I being at odds, which we are right now.”

“It’s a symptom of the fact that you’ve given up…” my mother says with a concerned look on her face. “You gave up after High Stakes, didn’t you?”

My eyes widened with surprise when I realized how perceptive she was.

“That’s where it started, but winning the title and then being thrown into a chamber is where it really got bad for me. I gave up before the bell rang on that one and it’s been downhill since. Now? I just want to leave again and never go back because I could care less about what my ‘legacy’ is in that company. It’s never going to be positive anyway…”

“Running away won’t solve anything, but not caring about your legacy is a good start because it stops you from caring too much about what other people think. Take this with you…”

My mother pulls out a notebook and hands it to me.

“Your father wrote something in there for you five years ago after you lost the title and he wanted me to give that to you.”

“Why didn’t you give it to me then?”

My mother sighs with some regret.

“He died right after he wrote that and in all the grief, I completely forgot about it until I found it the other day doing some attic digging…”

I glanced at the notebook with a numb surprise going through me.

“Knowing what he wrote, it’ll be the best thing for you. Don’t read it until you’re on the cruise but until then? Stay strong, alright?”

“Yeah… thanks…”

My mother briefly embraces me before she walks out the door. Unfortunately, as I looked at the notebook, that internal demon spring into action again.

“You’re always going to be a letdown to DADDY! You KNOW how to make all the pain and suffering go away.”

Suddenly, the room got REALLY cold. I thought I was about to have a huge panic attack, but I heard another voice in the room.

“Don’t listen to that, Andrea… whatever you do… don’t listen…”

“Dad? Is that you?” I asked out loud. “I won’t listen to that darkness. I have to read what you have to say first…”

Suddenly, the room got warmer and brighter and that tension (and darkness in me) was gone.

And for the first time in months, I had hope…

July 12

I hadn’t signaled for the camera to come on yet. I was sitting on the edge of my hotel room bed mulling things over and thinking about the notebook that was in front of me. On one hand, I wanted to open it and read it right then and there with the camera on. It felt like maybe it could give me the boost that I needed.

However, there was a pit in my stomach that knew that doing so would open the door for my opponents, upcoming and in the future, to pick at and the last thing that I wanted to do was to even give anyone the power to pick at the relationship with my father. I signaled for my cameraman to come get the notebook. He came to grab it and set it down on the drawer behind him.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a bit searching for any hint of that “demon” inside of me that was pushing me to give up and give in. My shoulders felt light. That’s when I knew I didn’t have to worry about it and that I could express my thoughts. Difficult as it was considering recent events, I signaled to the cameraman to turn it on and with that, I really knew I had to choose my own words carefully not because I wanted to avoid giving my opponents “red meat”, but because I had to focus on getting the right message cross for me and nobody else.

“Elephants in the room aren’t fun to address. So, let’s address the most recent one and work backwards. The last match I had? I blew it. Did I give it my best effort? Absolutely not. Hell, I didn’t even want to be there. Truth be told, I HAVEN’T wanted to be there for a while. When I was in the ring for that triple threat match, I was so out of it that I literally had this feeling of ‘I don’t care anymore’ and to those friends, family and fans that were expecting the very best out of me, not only did you not come anywhere close to getting that, but you haven’t gotten that for months. For those that look up to me, for those that depend on me for any reason, for those that have done everything in their power to help me do whatever it takes to be at my best for any given match, I sincerely apologize for phoning it in as I have for a while because… well…

There’s no excuse for it. I can deep dive into so many reasons, but there’s no excuse for it. That triple threat match, I dogged it all because I was all up in my feelings about this place, the people in it, what people were saying about me, angry at the world, angry at this person for treating me like I wasn’t shit all because they only bothered to go off of an inaccurate card description, angry at that person for basically burying me even though I did nothing to them because they were up in their feelings themselves over “slights” that were just them taking any little fucking thing personal even when 99 percent of it had nothing to do with them, angry at the events of 5 years ago that I suffered through, angry because of how hard I was pushing to be better than that time period of my life only for others to shit on it and say ‘oh you’re still the same’, angry at this person for calling my title win a Cinderella run, angry at that person for calling me a paper champion on social media, anger, anger, nothing but anger and it was slowly driving me into the dirt without me realizing it until it was too late.

Something that I was taught by my mother once was ‘be the light you wish to shine’. With everything that I’ve mentioned just now, I’ve been anything but that and all I’ve done is rise to it and feed into it when on MANY occasions that I’ve been in this company over the years, I’ve proven that I’m above all that. I will be the first to admit that I haven’t done the best job at rising against adversity ever since High Stakes aside from the time that I was able to beat Kayla Richards for the world championship and I KNOW that’s largely because of my own doing so after everything that’s been going on? I’m going to straight up fucking say this.

I WILL be that light. I WILL be DONE with the nonsense. I’m not rising to the bullshit again. I don’t care what odds are against me in this match. I don’t care WHO I am facing. Hell, if you’re listening to this waiting for when your name is mentioned so that you can talk your trash and start doing the same old fucking shit that everyone else does, stop wasting your time and exit out of this video because I am NOT going to rise to that crap and I am NOT going to bore our audience by doing your typical “list off everyone and say why they won’t win”. Not only is that cliche, but it’s also a pointless exercise because in a match like this, why the fuck do you want to focus on so many other people when the truth of the matter is, priority number one should ALWAYS be YOU and ONLY you and how YOU’RE going to handle this match and how YOU are going to live, learn and grow from any recent adversity that you’ve dealt with. I’m not going to do that. I get that the odds are going to be long as it is based on the numbers alone, but to waste time worrying and focusing on other people that I know are going to come at me with the same old shit that I’ve heard millions of times before or pick at my last match exaggerating it the way everyone else in this fucking locker room fucking exaggerates every little fucking thing…”

I knew that I was starting to get heated with the increased profanity. With that, I took a deep breath being determined as hell NOT to let that demon inside of me come out again. I briefly remembered how it suddenly came out of me going into a match with Kiera Fisher nearly five years ago and it took me two years to seal that demon away.

“Focus girl… focus…” I told myself in my own mind. “Don’t let these bitches get to you. They’re not worth it. They never were.”

I took another deep breath before I continued.

“Priority number one is going to be me. Take it how you see it. I don’t give a fuck anymore. I am DONE allowing other people to define me.  That was the last time I am going to allow myself to fail in such a bullshit fashion. From now on, I am no longer going to rise to the bullshit so say what you want to say about me because not only do I KNOW in my heart that you’re wrong and that you’ll never define me but… spoiler alert… I’m not even going to bother watching what you all have to say about me. Yes, I KNOW, I’m breaking like an unwritten rule of this business. GASP! BLASPHEMY! How DARE she?!?! Actually, if I’m breaking anything, it’s a mold that everyone cow tows to just because it’s “supposed to be the way”. But ultimately? I’m not going to listen or watch anything any of my opponents have to say about me and I am damn sure not going to respond to any of it because I am NOT going to allow ONE person in this match to define my feelings or to define my truth. I am not going to allow myself to get worked up over some bullshit that someone else said because something that I have really wised up to is the fact that whatever you do, it doesn’t matter. Whoever you are, doesn’t matter. Someone, somewhere is always going to grasp at straws and pick at anything to tear you down because they have a vapid imagination to even do anything differently.

I am going to focus on winning this match and nothing else because at the end of the day, when it comes to my story in this business and my story in this company, it’s ME! It’s nobody else but me! Hell, I’ll be the first person to admit that I’m my own worst enemy when it comes to my success here and the truth of the matter is, and I KNOW most of you if not all of you are going to HATE what I’m about to say: not ONE of you is my greatest enemy or my greatest opponent in this match… it’s ME! I own the fact that in order to win this match, I WILL have to overcome my worst, deepest insecurities within myself and to snap back into that fire that I’m known for KNOWING that when I do, it STILL won’t guarantee that I win this thing. Trust me, I know that some people are going to come at me harder in that ring than others due to history or whatnot, but ultimately, not one of you is going to be able to cripple me. The only one in that ring that can cripple me is… me… which is exactly what I did the last match I had and I’m NOT going to do it again and I’m NOT going to do it anymore. Not ONE of you is going to put me through hell because five years ago, I endured, I overcame, and I defeated the worst hell I’ve ever been through in my career if not my entire life. Am I proud of how I did that? No, but I still overcame all that  and compared to what I wen through five years ago, this doesn’t even come CLOSE to being that.

So by all means, whisper and gossip and lie and misinterpret and make yourself look like a damn fool. When I win this match, you’ll only have yourselves to blame because I WILL NOT make this about proving other people wrong. I don’t NEED to prove anything to fucking anybody but ME! I will NOT make this match about silencing critics, or other people, or anyone else because I will NOT be granting people that aren’t worth my feelings that kind of power over me anymore! That’s why with every last one of you in this match, I’m not addressing you one by one or doing what I would typically do and pick point a weakness or a recent match that you had or some piddly little thing that I can pull out of thin air as “proof” as to why you’re not going to beat me or why you’re not better than me. Honestly? It’s a tired exercise and people as a whole need to think outside the box when it comes to that. Rather than focus on the perceived weaknesses of everyone else, I will focus on my own weaknesses, I will working on strengthening myself to overcome those weaknesses and I will focus on my own strengths, on my own abilities and what I am truly capable of once I overcome this career long, if not life long, mental block in me that holds me back over and over and over again. I’ve reached a point where I’m fed up with that. I’m 31 now. I’m old enough and beyond experienced enough to finally break free from all of it and that’s what I am going to do by the time this match hits no matter how hard that is and how hard it may become over the next week. What just happened to me is where I draw the line. I’ll do whatever it takes, whatever I have to do, to break free from those last mental chains that have been so damn stubborn for years and I am going to find a way to win this.

Five years ago, I allowed losing the SCW Bombshells World Championship to someone I SHOULD’VE beaten… but I didn’t because I got in my own fucking way… to define me and it broke me to the point where I became someone that wasn’t me at all and never should’ve been in the first place. I should’ve known better than to make such a garbage, stupid mistake like that. Now? I’m NOT going to make that same mistake again, not anymore. It’s high time I started to stand up for myself, to strengthen myself, to do whatever it takes to ensure that I never allow one fucking person to define me again and while this may be overdue for a wrestler of my caliber, I will own that to kingdom come and back, it’s better late than never and no matter how this match goes for me, I’m not going to fade into the night and I am not going to allow a single loss, a single ounce of adversity or anything like that to turn into an embarrassment that defines me in the long run. This is where the slate is wiped clean, where I learn every single piece about who the fuck I am and I made damn sure that I become the light within myself that I’ve starved to have for many, many years. No more being conservative. No more holding back. No more weighing myself down. Never again. This is where I take that stand and this match, win or lose? It’s going to mark a turning point for me for the very long term and for a very long time to come…”

I signaled for my cameraman to cut and he gave me the thumbs up ensuring me that the camera was just shut off.

“I haven’t seen or heard that kind of fire out of you in months…” he said as he handed me the notebook.

“That was just the start…” I said as I glanced at my father’s notebook and started to think about how I was going to conquer my inner demons and worst insecurities. “...just… the start…”

I took a deep breath to come down from that fiery speech I just made before I made my exit from the hotel room.

[Alexandra Calaway]

Preparing for the Trip
LJs Place
Las Vegas, Nevada

The last of Alexandra’s gear was packed, the suitcase zipped, and her boots resting on top like a final piece of armor. The soft hum of Las Vegas nightlife filtered through the window as she stood in the middle of her bedroom, mentally checking off everything for the trip. It was strange, in a way, how much calmer she felt this year compared to last. Experience had softened the edges of uncertainty. She knew what was waiting on that ship. The chaos. The fans. The long days and wild nights. But this time, she wasn’t walking into it with that same heavy weight on her chest. Across the room, LJ sat on the edge of the bed, scrolling through his phone absently before setting it down. His duffel bag sat mostly empty at his feet.

“Are you sure you’re packed enough?” she asked, glancing at the bare bag with a teasing smile.

He looked up and smirked. “I’m not the one stepping into the ring in the middle of the ocean. I figured out a few shirts, a pair of shorts, and one dress outfit in case they try to get fancy.”

“You’ll need more than that. It’s Summer XXXtreme. There's sun, saltwater, and the kind of mayhem that eats clean clothes alive.”

LJ chuckled and stood, walking over to her. “Yeah, but I’m not on the card. I’m not working. I’m just... yours this time. Bodyguard, emotional support, maybe a glorified luggage handler.”

Alexandra’s smile faded into something warmer, softer. “You’re more than that. Just having you there makes everything feel more grounded.”

He shrugged, but the faint pink in his cheeks gave away how much that meant to him. “Still feels weird, though. Not being booked. Not being part of the show. I’ve spent so much time fighting for a spot that stepping away, even for a week, messes with my head.”

She nodded in understanding. “It messed with mine last year. I wasn’t sure I even belonged on that cruise. I kept second-guessing everything, Ashlynn, the matches, the fans, being out at sea with no safety net. But it ended up being one of the best things for me. Because I stopped trying to be perfect and just... showed up. Did my thing. And people noticed.”

“You got everyone talking,” he said. “And now they’re expecting you to outdo yourself.”

“I’m not worried about that,” she said, stepping closer and slipping her arms around his waist. “What I care about is being focused, being me. And this year, I get to have my partner there. Not as a tag team, not as an act, just as someone who has my back.”

LJ rested his chin on top of her head. “Always. Even if I’m the guy in the crowd with the overpriced drink yelling too loud.”

She laughed against his chest. “You’d be the best part of the crowd.”

For a few moments, they stood there in silence, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between them. This trip wasn’t just about the cruise or the matches—it was about taking a step forward, together. With Ashlynn staying with Cassandra and Dhillon for the week, there was finally room for Alexandra and LJ to breathe as a couple.

“I think I needed this more than I realized,” she said quietly.

“The cruise?”

“No,” she replied, lifting her eyes to meet his. “This time. With you. Without everything pulling us in five different directions. I’ve been going non-stop for so long, I forgot what it feels like to just be with someone.”

“You haven’t really let yourself slow down,” LJ agreed. “Even when we first got together, you were still wearing your armor.”

“I had to,” she said, her voice soft. “For Ashlynn. For survival. For my own sanity. But I’m tired of carrying that weight all the time.”

He nodded. “Then don’t. Let me carry some of it with you.”

Her eyes glistened for just a second before she looked away, blinking it back. “You say things like that and I remember why I let you in.”

“I didn’t knock gently,” he said with a small grin.

“No, you didn’t. You walked in like you belonged here. And maybe, you do.”

They sat on the bed, her hand resting over his. The bags were packed, the plans set. Tomorrow, they’d board the ship. Alexandra would step back into the spotlight, the ring, the madness of a wrestling cruise. And LJ would be right there, not as a wrestler, not as her man in the corner while she was in a match, but as her anchor.

“You nervous?” he asked, glancing at her sideways.

“Not about the match,” she said. “That’s the easy part. It’s the stuff between the matches that gets tricky.”

“Like what?”

“Like trying to remember who I am when I’m not being the performer. Like making space for us in a world that doesn’t stop moving. Last year, I felt like I was surviving. This year, I want to live in it.”

LJ leaned back on his elbows. “So we do that. You work. I support you. We steal moments in between. Breakfast on the balcony. Watching the sunset. Making fun of people in the pool.”

Alexandra laughed again, brighter this time. “God, that sounds perfect.”

“It will be,” he said. “You fight. I’ll be there. And when the lights go out, it’s just you and me. That’s what I’m looking forward to most.”

She turned, curling into his side, her head resting on his shoulder. “Promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“When we get back, when the cruise is over, and real life crashes back in, don’t let me shut down again. Remind me of this. What it feels like to let someone stay.”

He kissed her forehead gently. “I’ll remind you every damn day if I have to.”

The air between them settled into something steady, calm. Tomorrow would bring the roar of the ocean and the madness of fans. Alexandra would face whatever challenge the cruise had in store. But tonight, she had something far more powerful than momentum, she had LJ. And for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t walking in Summer XXXtreme alone.

Let’s Talky Talk
The Strip
Las Vegas, NV

The camera opened on the glimmering chaos of the Las Vegas Strip. Neon signs buzzed above packed sidewalks. Tourists shouted, music blared from open doors, and slot machines chirped from every direction. In the middle of it all, walking with slow, measured steps through the chaos, was Alexandra. She was dressed in a sharp leather jacket, sunglasses covering eyes that burned with purpose, her boots striking the pavement with deliberate weight.

She didn’t glance at the noise or the spectacle. All of it faded behind her focus. The camera followed as she walked past the Bellagio fountains, the spray catching the city lights in bursts of color. She finally came to a stop beneath the glowing canopy of the Flamingo, turned to face the camera, and pulled off her sunglasses.

Her eyes locked onto the lens, cold, sharp, and surgical.

"Let’s talk," she said, voice low but firm enough to cut through the roar of the Strip.

Amelia: "The Unknown Equation"

Alexandra tilted her head, a small smirk curling at the edge of her mouth. "Amelia. The one I haven’t touched yet. The enigma. The one the fans like to call a mystery. You know what mysteries are to me? Just problems waiting to be solved."

She took a few steps down the sidewalk, weaving between a group of partygoers without breaking her stride. "We’ve never faced each other, and I know that’s been eating away at you. They’ve been protecting you. They’ve been crafting your journey like it’s a fairy tale. But here’s the thing, sweetheart, fairy tales end in horror when reality hits. And I am that reality."

She stopped again, just in front of a luxury store, her reflection staring back from the glass. "You’ve never had to bleed for your momentum, Amelia. You’ve never felt what it’s like to be broken in front of a crowd that expected more from you. You dance, you fly, you smile—and they eat it up like it’s gourmet. But when you step into the ring with me, none of that’s going to save you."

Alexandra leaned closer to the glass, staring into her own eyes before looking back at the camera. "You’re fast, you’re clean, you’ve got technique. But I’ve made careers end for less. What you’ve built for yourself—your potential, your precious image—I’m going to drag it all into the street like garbage and show the world what happens when smoke and mirrors meet substance."

The Strip pulsed behind her, but her tone never wavered. "So go ahead, Amelia. Be their rising star. Be their future. Because when the time comes, I’ll be the one who introduces you to your ceiling. And I promise, it’s going to hurt."

Joanne: "The Broken Record"

Alexandra turned a corner, walking past Caesar’s Palace, the grandeur behind her a stark contrast to the venom in her voice. "Joanne. Poor, stubborn, beautifully deluded Joanne. We’ve been here before, haven’t we? And every single time, I’ve beaten you into the floor like it’s tradition."

She rolled her shoulders, brushing past a performer on stilts without a second glance. "What amazes me isn’t that you lost. It’s that you keep coming back like something’s going to change. Like this time, things will be different. Like you’ve somehow evolved past the woman I already exposed."

She scoffed, glancing sideways as if picturing Joanne’s face. "You’re not evolving, Joanne. You’re decorating failure. You put up a fresh coat of paint every time I destroy you and try to convince yourself the cracks aren’t there. But I see them. Every twitch in your eye when my name is brought up. Every forced breath you take when they ask about your losses to me. You’re not fighting to win. You’re fighting to survive. And I’ve got bad news, survival isn’t enough anymore."

Alexandra stopped beneath a massive LED billboard flashing championship belts and highlight reels. She didn’t even look up. "I don’t hate you, Joanne. You’re not worth that. What I feel is pity. Because no matter how many times you crawl back into that ring, hoping this time you’ll rise. I’ll be there to remind you that some stories end the same way, every time."

She looked into the camera with icy finality. "And your story? It ends with me."

Andrea: "The Thorn in My Side"

Now Alexandra’s walk had slowed. Her pace was deliberate. There was weight behind her steps as she passed the Mirage. The lights flickered above her, like sparks trying to find fuel. "Andrea," she said, the name alone carrying tension. "You’re the one that stays with me. The one who got through."

She stopped, folding her arms. The tension in her jaw said everything. "You’ve beaten me. Not often. But enough. Enough to leave a scar. And that’s why I don’t take you lightly. I don’t dismiss you. I respect you, but that respect comes with a price. Because every single time I’ve tasted defeat by your hand, I’ve carved a new weapon out of it. I’ve built new armor. You sharpened me without realizing it."

She stepped off the main sidewalk and onto a quieter stretch of pavement, where the Strip’s noise dulled just slightly. Her voice dropped. "But here’s where we differ, Andrea. You were satisfied with the win. You wanted the moment. I wanted domination. You got the applause. I want the silence that comes after I leave my opponent broken."

Alexandra turned her head slightly, her profile lit by the passing glow of LED lights. "You’re dangerous. But now I’m smarter. Meaner. Colder. You won’t find the same Alexandra you beat before. She’s dead. I buried her myself."

She looked back into the camera, the storm behind her eyes ready to break. "And when we meet again, Andrea... I’m not walking away with a win. I’m walking away with you. Shattered. Humbled. And finally... beneath me."

Kate: "The Identity Crisis"

Further down the Strip, Alexandra came to a halt near a street performer dressed like a living statue. She stared at it for a moment, blank, unmoving, artificial. Then turned back to the camera.

"Kate. You know, I’ve faced chaos, I’ve faced strategy, I’ve faced rage—but you? You’re not even a finished thought. You’re half of a character sketch, barely colored in, and every week you show up with a new coat of confusion like that’s going to make you interesting."

She stepped forward, slicing through the crowd with presence alone. "You think being mysterious is the same as being compelling. It’s not. It’s exhausting. No one knows who you are not even you. You spend more time reinventing your image than refining your craft. And while you're out there figuring yourself out, I’m going to crack your ribs one by one."

The sign for The LINQ blinked erratically behind her. "You're a walking question mark hoping the world doesn’t notice you’ve got no answer. But I noticed. I see the cracks. I see the fear. You’re not dangerous. You’re desperate. Desperate to matter. Desperate to be something other than a filler name on someone else’s win column."

She looked into the camera again, deadly calm. "You’re not a mystery, Kate. You’re a delay. A pause before something real. And I’m going to press play... and erase you."

Diamond: "The Forgotten Victory"

Alexandra now neared the end of the Strip, where the lights grew thinner and the tourists scarcer. She paused at the base of a blinking casino marquee, her silhouette sharp against the fading neon.

"Diamond. Ah, Diamond... the one I’ve already beaten. And yet, here we are again. Trying to shine like you weren’t already dulled. You want another shot? Fine. I’ll remind you what it felt like when I shattered your illusion the first time."

She brushed her hair back, the Vegas wind teasing it loose. "They say diamonds are forever. But you? You cracked. Under pressure, under fists, under me. You fought like you were precious. But I saw through the sparkle. I saw the fracture. You’re costume jewelry, Diamond. All flash, no foundation."

Alexandra began walking again, slower now, like delivering the final eulogy. "There’s no revenge story here. No grand comeback. You can train all you want, bleed all you need to, but when you step into that ring again, nothing will have changed. I’ll put you back in your place like muscle memory."

She stopped, turning toward the camera one last time. "So bring your shine. Bring the defiance. Bring the hope. I’ll crush it again. Not because I need to, but because I can."

She slipped her sunglasses back on, the city lights gleaming in the lenses.

"Vegas is all illusions. But I’m the only truth walking this Strip. Remember that."

With that, Alexandra turned and disappeared into the crowd.

[Amelia Reynolds]

echo 03 ★ secrets

Denver International Airport was never really particularly quiet, what with it being the most massive hub within the midwest. Not even at half-past one in the morning on an early Tuesday in the dark. As always, it seemed to buzz with movement and announcements and the distant rumble of suitcase wheels over tile. She hated waiting in the car, and found it more important to meet her family or friends inside after they’d spent time travelling.

Inside, the air was recycled and cool. The white towering tents of the terminal would always mean that the place was too bright, and too sterile. Even with the fluctuation of passengers moving through the area, even with the night sky visible from where she sat within the center of the area. She was leaned back against the back of the strange, ergonomically sound steel benches, watching travellers come in and out.

Amelia’s hair was tied up in a scrunchie, the bun situated on the top of her head, tendrils falling around her face. She wore her sweats, and a long t-shirt – his, judging by the unreadable logo on the front. The weight of the past few days settled on her.

Grand Junction, the crowd. Her announcement – two wins, two matches, and now…now a shot at everything. That wasn’t nothing. But it also wasn’t just about climbing the ladder anymore. A shadow with a name followed her every step now, but she wasn’t sure what that name was. Expectation. Doubt. Pressure.  All the things she’d said that night were true, had told nothing but what she understood in her own perceptions, but the weight of it settled beneath her ribcage like a quiet breath she didn’t know how to release.

Failure to thrive wasn’t an option. Not right now. Not if she was going to make something of herself, make Wolfslair proud, make Aaron proud. She still hadn’t told Dickie. Hadn’t revealed anything more to Finn after he caught it already. Just let it sit, because right now, that wasn’t important.

Her eyes glanced up to the arrivals and departures screens. The flight from Miami had just landed ten minutes ago, which meant that he would be traversing the airport, wandering from the extremely long gates to the train below the concourses. It would take a little bit of time. Which allowed her mind to wander.

She didn’t know what version of Dickie Watson she was about to get.

She’d watched the footage. Maybe not live, because she was at Phoebe’s salon getting her roots retouched into the wee hours of the evening, but she’d watched it. In bits and pieces. Her stomach hadn’t really let her watch it all in one go. Dickie had always been a daredevil. But the damage he’d taken not seven hours before had been critical. A spear that led to a twenty foot drop, his blood on the concrete. Stretchers knocked over. Fists landing where bandages should have been placed. The match should have been called off, in her opinion.

But then he won. Of course he did. Barely. But to her, it wasn’t victory. It was survival, and it was wearing a damn smirk.

Any second now, he should be coming up from trains, riding the escalator with a slouch in his gait. He would be tired. Emotionally compromised. She’d seen it before, knew it was likely. Every time someone appeared from below with a hoodie and combat boots, her breath caught in her chest, resetting only when recognition didn’t come.

When she did see him, she rose to her feet. He was slower than usual, his black hoodie zipped high and his jaw bruised. His shoulders curled inwards, and his movement was stiff – one of his hands was wrapped in gauze and the other was purpling beneath the ink. He might have dozed off on the plane, but he didn’t look rested. His dark eyes caught hers, her steel blue widening in relief. He blinked, and she literally saw the breath flow out of him in his own form of relief.

Amelia walked towards him then, reaching out with a hand to grasp the least injured one. “Hi,” she murmured. He didn’t smile, but his eyes softened. He stepped forward, slowly, until he was right in front of her. He pressed his forehead softly to hers in greeting.

“You didn’t have to come in,” he told her. “I could’ve walked to the pick up.”

“It smells like diesel fuel out there…and maybe stale tacos. Unsure. Besides, I wanted to see your face in more than a car light.” She reached up, pressing her fingers softly to the bruise on his jawline. She’d seen him in dozens of fights. In cages that collapsed on people. In times where he’d barely been standing. This, however, was one of his worst. “Dimitri.”

“‘M fine.” He muttered, pulling his head out of her grasp.

She didn’t question it.

Minutes later, the door shut heavier than she intended. The 2025 Land Cruiser that she drove was a tall order to get into, but as she adjusted the mirror, he settled into the passenger seat with a low hiss through his teeth. He’d pulled his hood back now, and she could see scrapes on his cheekbone, places that had flowed with blood hours prior. Swelling under his left eye. He buckled in with half a shrug.

She grit her teeth.

The exit from the garage short-term was silent, her hands firm on the wheel. Only the moderate hum of early two-thousands pop echoed. She hadn’t bothered plugging in her phone, hadn’t bothered with trying to find music he liked. She glanced in the mirror at him, watching as he closed his eyes. His lip was split, just to add insult to injury. There would be tender kisses on her forehead before bed, complete with hisses. She looked forward, Denver’s skyline dark in the distance, the mountains hidden by the darkness of the sky and the low moonlight.

“You shouldn’t have taken that match.” Her voice cut like a blade, but it was whispered like silk. He didn’t respond to her as he opened the window and pressed his face into the door, his curls whipping in the wind as the cold air plastered him. “I’m serious, Dickie. You shouldn’t have.”

“Was already booked.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Didn’t realize I had to ask permission.”

Her grip on the steering wheel tightened, and she pursed her lips. “That wasn’t what I said.”

“Mmm.” He replied, low and sharp, noncomittal. “C’mon, Melia. You of all people should get it, right? You willfully stepped into this sport without telling the rest of us. Should make all of the sense now. Can’t play nurse now just because I’m better at breakin’ all of the things.”

The wind through the window filled the cab with a soft roar, but it didn’t drown her out. Not when her voice returned, lower, but firmer this time. “There’s dangerous and then there’s whatever the hell that was.”

He didn’t open his eyes. Didn’t even flinch. Just let the cold night slap right against the side of his face like it meant nothing. It probably felt like an ice bath. “That was winning.”

“That was bleeding,” she countered. “That was you gettin’ thrown through glass and off ledges like you were built of steel and not bone, Dimitri.”

He snorted low through his nose and pulled his face back inside the car to look at her. The silence settled thicker as he did so, and she only took a small glance at him. The expression he gave her wasn’t the usual look of adoration he held. He was tired, she knew that, and when Dickie was tired, his filters flipped. It wasn’t the first time they argued. Wouldn’t be the last either.

“You think I don’t know what I’m made of, what it costs?” His jaw ticked as he rolled a sore wrist.

“I think you stop caring when you have a vendetta.”

That earned another snort. But it wasn’t anger, and it wasn’t defensiveness. It was humorless, and he stretched out as much as he could in the chair, spike curved like he was trying to disappear into it. He flexed his knee, wincing imperceptibly. “Says the girl who picked the same goddamn sport, who trained in secret, snuck out of our bed at five a.m., lied to my fucking face for a year, and still expects to play Florence Nightingale when it suits her.”

Her jaw clenched. That sunk. She didn’t take her eyes off the road. “I didn’t lie, Dimitri.” Amelia spoke slowly. “I just didn’t want you to stop me.”

“You’re a Reynolds. There is no stopping you, or Aiden, from doing stupid shit that I ultimately have to plan for.” He scoffed. “Just don’t act like it’s a fuckin’ one-way street. We all bleed here.”

She frowned. Pursed her lips again. Let her fingers clench into the wheel, her right hand dropping to her thigh. “Fine. You can bleed on the boat.” She glanced at him again, softer. “I just..I need you there, okay? I need you present. Please?”

Regardless of the argument, regardless of his words, regardless of the fact that he was liable to break himself again, he slid his battered fingers into hers.

“Always.”
★☆★☆★☆★☆★

Her bedroom was too quiet. And she hated the quiet. Quiet meant her gremlin of a boyfriend was sulking somewhere downstairs on a video game that she had no clue how to play. Quiet meant she was left to her own devices. Quiet meant that she was going to have to deal with things on her own, whether she liked it or not.

She slammed her suitcase onto the bed, opening it with a frown. The silence made everything louder, so when the zipper rolled, she heard it clearly. When she threw her gear into the bottom of the bag, it thudded like a storm. She was trying to stay productive, so she didn’t have to think. The sun had risen over the Colorado plains like a shadow that bathed her in a light she didn’t want two hours ago. It was morning. Eight hours since he slumped in the passenger seat and poke every nerve beneath her skin in only a way he knew how. Snapping accusations about lying and being a nurse when it suited her.

Amelia supposed he wasn’t wrong. But he wasn’t right either, though he’d wear it like a badge regardless.

A knock sounded at the door a moment later and she looked up. It wasn’t polite. But it was one she knew. One she grew up with. She didn’t bother saying a word, just knew her brother would enter the room in thirty seconds or less. Seventeen, to be exact. Aiden Reynolds didn’t just poke his head into the door, he came in with all of the energy and barely-contained irritation of a hurricane. He obviously had been training, because sweat was on his collarbone, his shorts rode low and he had a ratty black tank top on that Kallie likely attempted to throw out months ago.

He crossed the threshold in three large steps, his six foot frame towering over her short one. He looked at the bag as she haphazardly threw things into it. “I organize better than you right now. What the fuck is this shit, Mels?”

Amelia paused and looked at the bag. She did organize better than this. In fact, she really liked organization in most of the things she did. With a pause, she looked down at the bag, and then up at Aiden with a frown. “Dickie yelled at me.”

“Yelled?”

“Well. No. More like he turned into a feral goblin king and told me I snuck out of our bed and lied to him for a year. So clearly, that doesn’t mean I get to care if he lobs himself off of stages and drops and into trucks and bleeds.”

Aiden blinked at her. He processed. That sounded like Dickie when wounded. “Okay, but what in the everlovin’ fuck?”

Amelia threw another garment into the bag with likely more force than necessary. “That’s what I said.”

He narrowed his eyes, like he was solving a remotely difficult math equation in his head, or at least trying to figure out which one of them actually was wrong here. He reached over, pulled the shirt back out, and folded with an absurd amount of care and set it back in the suitcase. “So, he’s pissed because you didn’t tell him you were training.”

“I think…” she frowned deeper, “I think really that he’s mad that I tried to tell him he couldn’t  keep trying to die in matches and he had that missile primed and prepared.”

He made a face, somewhere in between something that looked like a grimace and a scoff combined. “Well. I mean, he does love those. Emotional weapons of mass destruction. Likes to sit on ‘em until someone pokes the bear and then boom, whole fuckin’ neighborhood is annihilated.” He looked at her. “Remember when I acted like I didn’t know what blood money was?”

“When he launched you into the counter at Disney World?”

“That’s the one.”

Amelia sat down on the edge of the bed, elbow on her knee, chin resting lightly on the cradle of her palm. She giggled slightly at her brother, who sat down with her. He didn’t say anything for a second, just stayed with her like a fount of solemnity. Even if he had rage beneath his own hands for how things were going, he still would always give her a look that said he was watchin’ out for her.

“I just,” she started, “I don’t want him to be mad at me.” She looked at him, her words softer than usual. “I know I’m not supposed to technically say that, that I should be focused and that I should be all eyes on the prize. But he’s him, Aiden. He’s my person. I want him there, on the boat. Watchin’. Not ‘cause I need all the prep or the cochin’, or plottin’ in the corners. I just want to look out from the ring and see his face, ya know? Like you like to see Kallie’s.”

He nodded, understanding. But she didn’t stop.

“This match, this…double or nothin’ thing…it’s not just a match. It’s a test, and one I could super fail if I don’t got my head on my shoulders. They wanna see if I can belong, if I can go one, two falls and still stand tall at the end of it, ya know? There’s so much pressure and pace and scrutiny…I can hear everyone in the match tryin’ to tell me I’m fuckin’ useless. I don’t wanna, but I know I can easily spiral when someone I love thinks I’ve failed ‘em. Even if I haven’t.”

“Ya didn’t fail him, Mels.”

“I know that. And he said he’d be there, but…”

He snorted, and pressed an arm around her shoulders. “You know how he is. He’ll show up with three busted ribs, say he’s fine, sit in the back somewhere where it’s all shadows and silence. Like he’s not allowed to be proud of ya. But…he is. And you know he’s more afraid of lookin’ any form of vulnerable than he is of jumpin’ off a scaffold.”

“I want him in the front row, Aiden.” She sighed, pressing her head against his shoulder. “I want him to see me win. Not for him, but with him there. And if I don’t win? I still want him to know I gave it everythin’ I had.”

“He’ll be there. Might limp. Grumble. Probably’ll have an ice pack strapped to his ass. But he’ll be there.”

She exhaled, and let her hands fall to her lap. She pursed her lips slightly, and frowned again. “Are you okay?”

“Nah.” He paused for a minute. “I’m just kinda fuckin’ frustrated about the level of bullshit this company has. Same bullshit, ya know? Logan beat me, fine. But I never got my rematch, and I didn’t want to be anywhere near the World Heavyweight title. But now I’m in this match for a contendership and I’ve gotta fight two guys I actually like in Miles and Eddie…”

She waited for him to continue.

“And I gotta turn into a fuckin’ villain to remind everyone I’m not a joke.”

“You’re not a villain, Aiden.”

“Nah, I’m not. But they won’t take me seriously until I act like one. Until I remind them that this isn’t the way it should be. I loved that belt, Mels. Fought for it. And now  it’s bein’ passed around like some damn prop in a clown routine. Held onto by a clown who sounds like Sylvester the Cat on steroids.”

“Then…” she tilted her head, “show them that you’re better than that belt. Let ‘em know that you finally are gettin’ your comeuppance. You deserve to be in the lights. You just kick their butts and let ‘em cry like you did when I was five and I scraped my knee trying to follow you and Adam down to Hungry Jacks.”

“I didn’t let you cry.”

“You told me I would gain superpowers if I did.”

He knocked his head against hers. “It stopped hurting though, didn’t it?”

It did.
★☆★☆★☆★☆★


Ya ever look back and realize like…how far you’ve come, but only to realize that no one else noticed? That no one else is sittin’ in the wings, wishin’ to cheer you on or make you alive. It’s kinda all up to you, whether you wanna survive or succeed or simply be present. A lot of the time, it kinda seems like all anyone wants to do is just be present. They’re content to like…live in this bubble of grandiose self-aggrandizement and forget that some part of ‘em is supposed to loathe themselves. Even just a bit.

Ladies like Kayla Richards and Amber Ryan knew how to loathe themselves. Even Frankie Holliday up there kinda loathes herself, but tries to use it as a plus rather than the whole ass minus it is.

When I started this thing, ya know…people barely glanced twice. Just another Reynolds, when Aiden was kinda bein’ the joke. I mean, that’s his thing, and it’s always kinda been his thing. He stood in front of a man who thought he was a demigod from H.P. Lovecraft’s failure of a novel and weird ass writing, and Aiden stood there as The Great Cunthulu and all of the chaos and shenanigans arose. He and Dickie made the man weep and then he disappeared. I mean, okay. Maybe bullying a man out of the business is a poor practice, but ya also gotta have balls.

I know what ya all thought though. She’s gonna have a stupid accent – mine is lovely, just so you know. But just another hopeful low carder over here. She’ll be gone in a month, right? Didn’t make noise, didn’t yell like everyone else does…didn’t come in with fireworks or edges in my voice. I didn’t need to, ya know? I didn’t need to search for approval from a buncha people who don’t really care too much about my efforts.

Match by match and moment by moment, I built myself. I know it’s not a lot. Two matches. Two wins. I don’t really have the veracity to be sittin’ here, tellin’ ya all the what fors and the whodunits. But I get to kinda talk on my experience, and note that out of everyone in this company, I’m the one with two matches in, the rookie in full, and I made it to a match that I probably should be shyin’ away from.

But I’m Amelia Reynolds, and I don’t shy away.

I take what I’ve learned in those dark rooms and quiet hours of the mornin’ when me and my trainer thought to take every hard hit and every fall as a requiem within our heads. I take what I’ve learned and don’t really give a hoot who is in front of me. Rookie. Legend. It’s all the same. I came to work. I didn’t chase the attention and I didn’t sound like a rotten mess. I let the work speak, and I did what no one expected me to do.

I felled some of your best.

It wasn’t clean and it wasn’t perfect, and I’m pretty sure I could have gotten hurt because I didn’t launch myself correctly and I wasn’t always on top of everything. But I did it. Three of the women in this match I’ve already defeated. Don’t mistake that for some kinda complacency, because it’s not. I grew up on a beach, and I learned about low and high tides. Those high tides come up faster than a huntsman on a lizard, and I’m not about to be caught and drug out to sea, unable to find my way back to solid ground. I know the work is there and I gotta put my best foot forward.

But so does everyone else, don’t they?

I know what it’s like. I’ve been told. Multi-person matches can be the bane of existence in this company because you never really know what it’s gonna be like when you get in that ring. There’s so many different styles and wrestling attempts. And I know that I’ve got to have a lot more to say when I get on that boat. I’m new but I’m not stupid. This is my first supercard, but I watched Aiden, and I’ve watched Finn and Kayla and all my friends. I’ve watched Bella and Miles.

I know. Even if I haven’t experienced it.

I guess that’s what all of you have meant when you belittled me for the fact that I knew people. But honeies, if I didn’t know, then maybe I might be you. And that’s not something I can do.

On the thirteenth iteration of Summer XXXTreme, I’m present. Double or Nothin’. Two pinfalls or submissions. A match that kinda has a bunch of names, egos, resumes, and ickle e. The one you’re not sure about. The one you didn’t expect. The one that you couldn’t have thought would be standing across from anyone leading into a match for a contendership for thee championship. Bombshells World. The most poignant in our division.

Shiny. Gold. Beautiful.

But here’s the thing, friends. I know that it’s easy to just think I’m a body in the match, but I’m not here to finally just arrive and make a spectacle. I’ve already done that. The crowds are happy to see me, because I’m always here to prove none of this is luck and you can’t tell me that it is. It’s not some little spark of enlightenment either, ‘cause I haven’t flamed out just yet. Even if you wish I would.

I mean, I get it. Why I’m doubted. Why you keep lookin’ past me to the louder voices, the heavier hands, the longer resumes, the experience in this match. It’s cause I don’t really yell for anyone’s attention, do I? I’m not comin’ in swinging bottles, callin’ out bloodlines. I don’t demand for people to call me a star, and I don’t act like the whole world owes me somethin’ for nothin’. I don’t bite on all the bait.

I just show up.

I study.

I adapt.

I learn.

Every match has a lesson in it, and every time there is a story to tell from what can be gleaned. I’m not here to make enemies, I’m not here to tell people they’re wrong, and I’m not here to capitulate on an entire roster and make threats. But I am here to make sure that you hear me as we get on that boat and we prepare ourselves for the reckonin’ that’s awaitin’ us.

Diamond. Alexandra. Kate. Andrea. Joanne. We were chosen for this match because management saw somethin’ in all of us. I can understand it too. Fighters. We don’t stand down just because someone told us that we didn’t have it in us to succeed. But out of all of you, I’m the weakest link. I know it. You don’t have to tell me, you don’t have to argue it. You don’t even have to say it. I’m the short stick in an era of a lot of trauma and tribulations.

I get it.

Doesn’t mean it’s right.

But I know that’s what you’ll believe. Because that’s what’s easier to believe, that’s what everyone that was placed before me believed. That just because I have a short match listin’, it’ll be easy to take me apart. So maybe…maybe that’s what you’re bankin’ on.

That when I get in that ring, and I finally see what’s in front of me, that I’ll panic. That I’ll be so overwhelmed that I won’t be able to see straight, think straight, look straight. Maybe I’ll worry that one of you can blindside me while the others kinda tear each other apart, or that I won’t be fast enough to react. That I won’t be able to adapt, or not be experienced enough to hold any part of the ground I stand on. Maybe you’ll think that a girl like me, who’s still tryin’ to figure out how to make sure her boots are laced without any kinda doubt, can’t navigate a storm like what’s on the horizon.

Six women. One match. Contendership. And chaos.

But let me ask you all a question then. Or some questions, in succession. What happens when the storm hits someone who doesn’t flinch? Or when the quietest one in the match doesn’t break under the noise? What happens when I’m still standing, despite all of your best efforts to put me in the grave?

I could stand here and be the loudest if I want to. I’m Australian, we’re not exactly the most quiet English speakers in the whole world. But this match isn’t made for the loudest mouth, or even the one with the most accolades. It doesn’t care if you were most recently Internet, Roulette, or Bombshell champ. It’s a test of instinct and endurance and adaptability. It’s not boiled down to one pin. Or a fall. Or a submission. Or a lucky shot in the dark. Two. Two falls.

It takes skill. Somethin’ maybe I don’t have, but that doesn’t kill my grit and desire and my absolute death mantra that I will survive this.

I’m not lookin’ past you. Lord, no. But I am lookin’ ahead too. Because if I win this, I could stand across from Kayla Fuckin’ Richards, or Frankie Holliday, and I know that that match will be something that no one would ever expect.

I hope you also recognize that I’m not just some little rookie. I know you all frame it as a poor thing, but I’ve been around wrestling for the last ten years of my life. My brother. My boyfriend, who just walked through hell and survived against some of your heroes. I know what I’m walkin’ into, and I’m not disenchanted or ignorant. I’ve see the resumes, studied the videos, read the stats, watched the dirt sheets. There’s weight and desire and want in that ring. Decades of experience and hundreds of matches. Women who have burned down all of the buildins’ just to see it dance in front of their eyes. They have somethin’ to prove because they didn’t get to before.

And then you have me.

Not a veteran. Not a generational phenom. Just someone who wants it more than I’m willin’ to tear down people and scream about it like I’ve been stabbed in the heart too many times. I’ve taken some hits. I’ll take more. I’ve heard critiques, and condescenision. It’s easy. Because I’m nice.

Except I’m not. I know how to have teeth too.

I don’t need your approval, and I don’t necessarily need the crowd’s approval either. I don’t need my name lit up in fireworks to prove that I matter. Growth doesn’t stop just ‘cause it’s hard to see, and maybe I’m not there yet, but I can also figure out how to get there because I don’t have issues in front of me filled with grudges and poor judgement. I’m not afraid of bein’ underestimated, because I expect it.

Ladies, this isn’t just about a title shot for me. It’s not just reaching towards gold and greedily searching for it to be under my little, nicely manicured hand.

It’s about standin’ in front of everyone, in the moment, and ownin’ it. Not because I yelled the loudest. Sounded like an edgelord. Fought through the pain. Or cried about it. But because I earned it. Because I stayed. Because I didn’t flinch.
So when that bell rings, and the six of us circle each other…I’ll remember who I am. I’m not the favorite to win. I’m not the monster in the ring. I’m not a legend.

But I am the girl that trained in secret and took every bump and every bruise like they were my prayers. I stood in the shadow of the greats that I know and love and revere, and I didn’t crumble. I learned. I listened. I got up. Every time.

When the smoke clears, maybe I’ll win. Maybe I dont.

But I will be the one you remember.


[/font]

[Alexandra Calaway]

In loves embrace
LJ and Alexandra’s Cabin
Summer XXXtreme

The gentle sway of the cruise ship was a constant, rhythmic hum beneath the cabin walls, a slow lullaby that mixed with the faint chatter of distant passengers and the occasional clink of glassware from the ship’s bar down the hall. Alexandra sank deeper into the cushions of the worn but cozy couch, a half-empty bag of chips in her lap and a bowl of popcorn spilling over onto the floor beside her. The glow of the television flickered against the cabin’s soft white walls, casting light over the room as a ridiculous comedy rerun played—something utterly mindless and silly, the kind of show neither of them really cared about but enjoyed just for the distraction.

LJ, sprawled beside her, had his arm casually draped over the back of the couch. His dark hair was tousled, and his bright eyes twinkled with the kind of mischievousness that had made Alexandra fall for him in the first place. He popped a handful of popcorn into his mouth, then caught her watching him and grinned. “Come on, love,” he teased, “you know I’m the king of bad jokes.”

Alexandra smirked, shaking her head as she tossed a chip his way. “King of dorks, more like.”

He caught the chip effortlessly and held it up like a trophy. “Only for you, angel,” he said softly, that pet name slipping out without thought but filled with warmth.

She leaned into his shoulder, the weight of the world momentarily lifted by the comfort of his presence. Around them, the cabin was a mess—empty wrappers and crumpled napkins piled up on the small table, remnants of their junk food feast. The scent of melted chocolate mingled with the faint saltiness from the ocean outside the window.
For a while, they just watched the nonsense on the screen, laughing quietly at the absurd antics unfolding. But beneath the lightheartedness, Alexandra’s mind churned. The match was only days away, and the weight of it pressed against her like the waves rocking the ship.

LJ noticed the shift in her demeanor and shifted closer, resting his hand over hers. “Hey,” he said gently. “You okay?”

She glanced up at him, her eyes searching his for some kind of anchor. “I’m… just thinking.”

“About the match?” His voice was soft but steady, a safe harbor in the storm of her doubts.

Alexandra nodded, fingers tightening around his hand. “Yeah. Andrea’s in it. She’s… tough. The toughest I’ve faced in a long time.”

LJ’s expression grew serious, the playful sparkle replaced with quiet concern. “I know. And I know she’s good at getting under your skin.”

“That’s what scares me,” Alexandra admitted. “It’s not just the physical fight. She’s a master at the mental games—the doubt, the second-guessing. She knows how to break you down before the bell even rings.”

LJ squeezed her hand reassuringly. “You’re stronger than you think, love. You’ve fought through hell before. Andrea doesn’t know what you’re made of.”

She let out a shaky breath. “Sometimes it feels like I’m my own worst enemy. Like the biggest battle isn’t in the ring—it’s inside my head.”

LJ lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. “Then let me be the one to remind you: You’re not alone in that fight. You have me. Always.”

Alexandra’s eyes glistened, a tear slipping down her cheek before she could stop it. “I don’t want to fail again. Not like last time.”

LJ’s thumb brushed the tear away. “You won’t. Because this time, you’re fighting for you—not for anyone else. And you’re not alone.”

She smiled, shaky but genuine. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”

He smiled back, that easy, reassuring grin that made everything feel a little less heavy. “I believe in you, angel. More than anything.” The moment hung between them, thick with unspoken fears and hopes. Then LJ leaned in slowly, his forehead resting against hers. “No matter what happens, I’m here.”

Their lips met in a gentle, tender kiss—soft, warm, full of promise and trust. Alexandra melted against him, the tension in her chest easing for the first time in weeks. When they pulled apart, LJ rested his forehead against hers again.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too,” she replied, voice trembling but strong.

They settled back into the couch, fingers still entwined, the laughter from the TV washing over them like a balm. The fight was coming. But for now, here in this little cabin on a ship surrounded by endless ocean, Alexandra felt ready. Alexandra shifted slightly, settling more comfortably against LJ’s side as she pulled the blanket up over their legs. The cabin was cozy, the perfect refuge from the storm of thoughts swirling through her head. Outside, the ocean stretched endlessly, waves rolling beneath the ship’s steel hull, and the low hum of the engines made a steady soundtrack for their quiet night.

“So,” LJ said, nudging her lightly with his elbow, “what’s the game plan? You know, if you had a magic wand and could change anything about the match?”

She laughed softly, the sound a little brittle but genuine. “Magic wand, huh? I wish. Honestly, I think my plan is just to stay the hell out of my own way.”

He smiled at that, eyes shining in the soft light. “That’s not such a bad plan. Sometimes the hardest opponent is the one inside.”

“Exactly.” Alexandra’s voice was thoughtful. “I get so wrapped up in everything—pressure, expectations, past mistakes—it just messes with my head.”

LJ reached over and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “You don’t have to carry all that alone. I know you’re tough as hell, but even the strongest people need someone to lean on.”

She leaned into his touch, heart swelling. “I know. It’s just hard. I don’t want to seem weak.”

“You’re not weak, love.” His voice was firm, unwavering. “Vulnerability isn’t weakness. It’s strength. And it’s part of what makes you amazing.”

Alexandra’s eyes brimmed again, this time with gratitude. “Sometimes I forget that.”

“That’s why I’m here—to remind you.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. “I’m your biggest fan. You’re my angel, my Queen.”

Her lips curved into a small smile. “I’m lucky to have you.”

He shrugged with mock humility. “Hey, I’m just doing my job.”

They both laughed softly, the tension in the room easing like the tide pulling back from the shore.

After a moment, Alexandra shifted, looking directly at him. “You know, part of what scares me the most is Andrea. She’s relentless. And honestly, sometimes I wonder if she even respects me.”

LJ’s brow furrowed. “She may not respect you, but that doesn’t mean you have to respect her or her games.”

“I know.” Alexandra sighed. “But she gets inside my head. She twists everything.”

“Let her.” LJ smiled, eyes locked on hers. “Let her do that. Then show her what happens when you refuse to be broken.”

“That’s the thing.” She swallowed hard, fingers tightening around his hand. “I want to believe that, but what if I crack? What if the doubts win?”

LJ leaned forward, his voice low and steady. “Then I’ll be right there to catch you. But I don’t think you’ll crack. You’ve got fire. You’ve got heart. And no one—no one—can take that away from you.”

Alexandra’s chest tightened with emotion, and before she knew it, LJ’s hand was cupping her cheek.

“You’re not alone in this. Whatever happens, I’ve got you.” She closed her eyes, leaning into his palm, feeling the steady warmth that grounded her. “You know,” LJ said, a mischievous grin creeping back onto his face, “all this talk about fighting and matches… you’re making me want to get in the ring myself, cause some mischief, even though I'm not booked.”

She laughed, nudging him playfully. “You? The king of bad jokes? I’d pay to see that.”

“Hey, don’t underestimate me.” He winked. “I’ve got moves you’ve never seen.”

Alexandra rolled her eyes, smiling wide. “Sure you do, babe. Sure you do.”

They laughed again, the sound light and full of love. Moments like these were rare, precious—little islands of calm in the middle of chaos.

“Promise me something?” LJ asked suddenly, serious again.

“Anything.”

“Promise me that no matter what, you’ll be kind to yourself. That you won’t let the pressure crush you.”

Alexandra nodded, her voice soft but sure. “I promise. I’ll try.”

“That’s all I need.” He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. “Because I want to see you shine. Not just in the ring, but in life.”

She rested her head against his chest, heart beating steady. “Thank you, babe. For being my light.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Always.”

The TV flickered in the background, the silly comedy continuing its endless loop, but Alexandra barely noticed anymore. She was lost in the feeling of LJ’s arms around her, the soft cadence of his voice, and the promise that no matter how hard the fight, she wouldn’t face it alone.

“I love you, Angel.” LJ whispered again, this time into her hair.

“I love you too, babe.” she replied, her voice barely above a breath.

They stayed like that for a long time—two souls intertwined in the small cabin, surrounded by the vastness of the ocean, holding onto each other against whatever storms lay ahead.

Eventually, Alexandra pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a newfound determination. “I’m ready, LJ. Ready to fight. Not just for the match, but for me.”

He smiled, pride shining in his eyes. “That’s my girl.”

And in that moment, everything felt possible.

The Calm before the Break
Summer XXXtreme Cruise
Middle of the Sea, Top Deck

The ocean stretched wide and black under the night sky, rolling with the slow, relentless rhythm of something ancient and disinterested. The ship hummed beneath her boots—gentle, steady. The distant sound of music and laughter drifted up from a poolside bar several decks below, like a ghost of something she had no intention of participating in. Alexandra leaned her elbows on the railing, breathing in the salt and steel of the open sea. Her fingers curled around the cool metal. Behind her, the ship pulsed with life—bright lights, tourists-turned-fans trying to snap selfies, the air warm with excitement. But out here? All alone? With just her thoughts. It was quiet. Still.

"You ever notice how the quiet ones always end up talking the longest?"

Her voice broke the silence, dry and unhurried. She didn’t look over her shoulder, didn’t scan for cameras. She knew they were there—she wanted them there. The match was only days away, and this was the moment she chose. Alone. No production, no backup dancers, no smoke machines. Just her and the night and the truth that had been simmering for far too long.

"I listened to you, Amelia," she continued, her voice slipping out like a blade just beginning to slide from its sheath. "Every word. Every carefully placed metaphor about tides and beach-town grit and how no one looked your way. I listened—not because I was inspired. But because I wanted to understand just how deep your delusion runs."

She turned her head slightly, eyes fixed on nothing and everything all at once. The waves whispered below, pretending they weren’t listening.

"And I’ve got my answer." Her body moved with purpose now—no fanfare, no posturing. She pushed off the rail, standing tall. Not theatrical. Not begging to be seen. Simply existing in that space with the kind of presence that didn’t need to announce itself.

"You think being the underdog makes you noble. You think standing there on this ship, eyes wide, voice soft, painting yourself as the 'weakest link' somehow makes you untouchable. Like self-awareness is your armor. Like humility’s going to keep you from being broken when this thing sets sail and the war begins."

A pause. Just long enough to let it breathe. She paced a step, then two, rolling her wrist as if loosening up for something heavier.

"It won’t." Her tone didn’t rise. It didn’t need to. Every syllable carried weight—measured, grounded, inevitable. "You’ve told us all how present you are. How you study. How you adapt. How you’ve trained in silence and now it’s your time to prove you belong here. But Amelia… proving you belong isn't the same thing as being ready."

She let that truth hang in the air, the kind of truth that didn’t sting right away. It settled. It nested. It waited to strike.

"You’re here—two matches deep—talking about loathing and legacies and how you’ve already felled some of the 'best.' As if that’s enough to walk into the most chaotic match of your life and come out anything but exposed. You wrapped yourself in every cliché a rookie with talent but no scars tends to cling to. You called it grit. You called it survival."

Alexandra stopped walking. She turned fully toward the camera now. Her face was unreadable, the kind of calm that came from a long, intimate relationship with chaos.

"But it sounds a lot like safety."

She drew in a breath through her nose, exhaled like she was bored of the lie already.

"You said you're not here to make enemies, not here to yell, not here to posture like the rest of us. Good. Because in a match like this? You won’t have time to." Her jaw flexed ever so slightly. "You’ll be too busy picking your jaw off the canvas."

She bit her lip, taking a moment to think it ovr.

"And while you’re sitting there, wondering what just hit you, I’ll still be standing. Because I didn’t come into this for a moment. I didn’t arrive with a speech, or a script, or a whole self-aware monologue about being underestimated. I came here with facts. With history. With blood on my hands and not a single apology in my throat." Her stare sharpened, not cruel, but focused—like a surgeon before the first incision. "And the truth is, Amelia… I don’t underestimate you." She let that land, let it settle in like the prelude to something brutal. "I just don’t care about your story."

Her hands dropped to her sides. Her knuckles cracked as she rolled one wrist, then the other.

"Because when the bell rings, stories don’t matter. Work does. Pain does. How you handle chaos when it hits you from behind—that matters. Not how many nights you trained in secret. Not how many bruises you wore like badges. Not how many friends you’ve watched on your little screen with admiration in your eyes. You said you learned by watching." She smiled. Not warm. Not mocking. Something colder. "I didn’t. I learned by surviving. And then I stopped surviving and started dismantling. There’s a difference."

There was a small pause.

"You want everyone to believe that you’re just some unexpected force slipping under the radar. That you’re not here to scream for attention or chase fireworks, you’re just here to earn it. But let’s not lie to ourselves, yeah? That whole speech you gave? That was a scream. It wasn’t loud, but it was desperate."

Something about the way they had spoken, lit a fire in Alexandra.

"You want people to see you. You want to be remembered. You want us to treat you like a threat but still pity you like an outsider. You want both—and in this ring, you don’t get both. You either rise… or you get run the hell over." Her boots echoed lightly as she walked toward the ship’s interior, where polished steel and glass reflected the sharpness of her voice. She didn’t falter. "I’m not the kind of opponent that gives you space to grow into your potential. I’m not the one who lets you learn your way through a match. I won’t walk into Summer XXXTreme thinking, ‘Ah, she’s green, but she’s got heart.’ No, Amelia. I walk in with one goal: to make sure your chapter ends here."

She touched her chest once—fingertips, not for emphasis, just a reminder. "That all those poetic lines about tides and darkness and quiet mornings are the last things people hear from you before your shoulders hit the mat—twice. Two falls. That’s what this is. Not a miracle waiting to happen. Not your ‘earned moment.’ Not some coming-of-age tale. This isn’t a fairytale. This is a contest of precision, awareness, and violence. And I thrive in all three."

This was it, the time it is now. She had another chance to take the Bombshell World Championship, if she could get past this.

"You’re on a boat with sharks, sweetheart. And you’ve convinced yourself you’re a dolphin that can just dance your way through the feeding frenzy because you’ve ‘studied enough’ and you’re ‘ready to adapt.’ You’re not. And deep down, I think you know that."

She stopped in front of a door with the match graphic posted on it—six women. One match.

"That’s why you talk so much about your doubt. Why you lean on it like a security blanket. Why you keep saying you expect to be underestimated. Because it makes it easier when you lose. It gives you a fallback when the match doesn’t go your way. You’ve already built the excuse—you’re new, you’re not the favorite, you're just grateful to be here. But I don’t buy it."

She pressed her palm flat against the door.

"Because there’s a glint in your voice when you talk about standing tall. About how you’ve already beaten some of the names in this match. About how you didn’t come in loud because you didn’t need to be. You’re playing humble, but you’re hunting validation like the rest of them. And that makes you dangerous—but not in the way you think. You’re dangerous because you don’t even know what you are yet. You’re not a legend. Not a monster. Not a mainstay. You’re a wildcard. You swing your emotions like they’re a weapon, but you haven’t learned how to aim. That’s where I come in."

Her voice dropped. Not a whisper—something heavier.

"I’m not the loudest voice. But when I speak, people lean in. I don’t need to drop names or trace my legacy across some family tree like it’s a badge. My name’s already enough. Alexandra. Not the loudest. But the most decorated. I am the one who makes everyone else regret looking past her. I don’t come for the crown because it’s shiny. I come because I know I can take it. And I’ll do it with my hands wrapped around the neck of this entire match. Not just you."

She knew who she was, former Queen for a Day, the former Bombshell Roulette Champion. A born fighter.

"Joanne. Kate. Andrea. Diamond. All of them. I respect all your résumés, but I’m not here to be impressed by bullet points. I’m here to make sure when this cruise docks and the sun comes up, my name is the only one anyone remembers. And not because I begged them to see me. Because I forced them to."

She backed away from the door. No need to go through it yet.

"You talk about people not seeing you. I’ve spent my entire career making damn sure no one can look away from me. I don’t need the noise. I don’t need the cheers. I need the outcome. Victory. Control. Dominance. You said this isn’t just about a title shot for you. That it’s about standing in the moment and owning it."

She laughed. Once.

"That’s adorable. But here’s the reality—you don’t own moments like these until you’ve bled in them. You don’t earn this kind of match with soft-spoken declarations and a pretty turn of phrase. You earn it when people know you’ll do whatever it takes."

She couldn’t help but look out over the water.

"And Amelia… I don’t think you’ve been pushed to that place yet. You’re still operating with training wheels on. You still think pain is a metaphor. You still think resilience is about quiet strength and poetic speeches. But when the storm hits? When your lungs are burning and your spine’s been tested and every instinct you thought you had starts betraying you?"

She was speaking the truth, in volumes. "I know who I am in that exact moment." She pointed directly at the camera now. Final shot. No retreat. "Do you? Do you still think you’ll float when the current shifts and every woman in that ring decides you’re the easy mark?"

She knew of the women in this match, and beat most of them. Save this young woman and Andrea, both of them were people she needed to beat.

"I won’t lie to you. There’s a part of me that hopes you survive. That you show up. That you make me earn every second of tearing you down. Because I like the fight. I respect anyone willing to walk into the fire and not blink. But understand this: I don’t plan on remembering you. I don’t plan on giving you the story you want—the one where the new girl overcomes doubt and shocks the world. Because that’s not what you’re walking into. This isn’t your underdog moment. This is a battlefield. And I’m not walking in to be the final boss in your journey."

Her battlefield, her shot, her time.

"I’m walking in to be the reason it ends. So no, Amelia. I don’t underestimate you. But I do plan on outlasting you. Outworking you. Outclassing you. And when the match is over, when two falls have been scored and one woman stands with her eyes already locked on the title match ahead—"

She shook her head knowing that she could walk away the champion.

"It won’t be you. Because you weren’t built for this storm. You were just hoping to survive it. I don’t need to hope." She took a step forward. Her voice is calm, controlled and ruthless. "I win. And that’s the difference." The words poured from her — rage, clarity, regret, growth — a monologue not just for the fans, not for the roster, not even for her opponents. It was for herself.

She had already dragged Amelia before the fire. She’d already opened the door to vulnerability, to honesty. But something still simmered. Still twisted deep in her stomach. And when she looked back toward the lens, wind tugging strands of dark hair across her cheek — she didn’t hesitate. Her voice dropped.

“And then there’s Andrea.”

That name wasn’t thrown like a jab. It was laced with disdain. Heavy. Like it had been stuck in her throat for far too long. "Andrea fucking Hernandez. The golden girl with a chip on her shoulder and a mirror in her hand. Always reflecting the world back with this ‘how DARE you underestimate me’ energy — like people aren’t sick of watching her spiral every time someone doesn’t kneel."

She took a step forward. The camera adjusted. Her boots echoed lightly on the steel grating beneath them. "Let’s not lie to ourselves. This match isn’t about proving anything to Amelia. It’s about finally settling the score with you."

Alexandra leaned on the railing, letting her voice cool again. Cold wasn’t empty. The cold was her version of control.

"Because I’ve watched you slink your way into match after match for years now — telling anyone who’d listen that you’re misunderstood, underappreciated, and better than whatever ‘low effort’ scrub is across the ring from you." She scoffed. "But the truth? You only thrive when you're the victim. When the spotlight's just out of reach. When you can pout your way into being called resilient."

She turned now, facing the camera fully, the ocean wind sweeping across her jacket. "You think people calling you a paper champion is the wound? No, Andrea. The wound is you still believe they’re wrong."

Her arms folded across her chest. The words cut like a slow blade."Because for all the screaming you’ve done about what you ‘deserve,’ about the effort you’ve allegedly given, your biggest enemy isn’t Amelia, or the critics, or even me. It’s the fact that when the lights are the brightest, you fade."

Her boots struck the floor with purpose as she stepped forward again. "And this time? I’m not going to let you walk out with some inspiring loss and a chip on your shoulder big enough to carry you to the next ‘redemption arc.’ I’m going to break you the same way you’ve broken every single run you ever started."

Her voice never raised. It didn't need to. "You see, Andrea — I don’t hate you because you’re talented. I don’t even hate you because of the spotlight. I hate you because you waste it. Every single time. You take the opportunities others starve for and you ruin them — not because you’re outmatched, but because you’re insecure. Because the second anyone doubts you, you crumble into a think-piece about how ungrateful everyone is and how wrong the world is for not recognizing your genius."

The tone tightened. Like a grip slowly closing. "You want to stand there next week and declare you’ve turned a corner again? Spare us. Because this time, you’re not just going to lose a match — you’re going to lose the illusion." Alexandra closed the gap between her and the lens. "That you’re still one of the best. That your name still means something. That people should still be afraid of the woman you used to be."

Beat.

"And don’t think I don’t see it. I’ve been on the other side of your resentment. I’ve felt that jealous little glance when someone you don't think 'belongs' starts getting a little more attention than you. You act like you’re not affected. But you are. You hide your venom under faux-humility and hashtags. But me? I don’t hide shit." Her hand gripped the rail tighter now. "You are the past. I am what’s next."

No shout. No smirk. Just purpose.

"You can talk about your legacy. You can scream about your effort. You can crawl into this match wearing all your heartbreak like armor again. But when I slam your face into that mat — when you realize that this isn't about redemption anymore — it’s going to hit you like a wave to the chest. You’ve spent all this time trying to prove you’re better than who people say you are. And all along, I’ve just been here. Waiting. Watching. Knowing. That I’d be the one to finally end the cycle."

A pause.

"So go ahead. Cling to the narrative. Blame everyone else. Blame me, if it helps. But when you’re laying there after the bell and there’s nothing left to protect you from the truth? Just know, you didn’t fall because people underestimated you. You fell because I fucking didn’t."

She took a final moment, just one, thinking over everything that was happening.  Kate, Diamond and Joanne, all the ladies she had beaten, remained silent, even now. They had long since missed their window.

“Joanne, Diamond, Kate,” she said slowly, letting each name hang in the air like a challenge. “You three ladies—I’ve said all I can about you. Every word, every thought. But honestly? I want you to prove me wrong. Prove to me that you deserve this shot more than anyone else standing in this match.”

Alexandra let out a breath, feeling the fire building inside her. “Because here’s the truth ladies. I’ve already more than proven myself. I’ve fought tooth and nail, clawed my way through every obstacle, faced every demon that’s been thrown at me, and I’ve come out standing. So standing here, looking at you three, I’m waiting. Waiting to see what you’ve got. Because right now? You haven’t shown me a damn thing.”

Her voice hardened, eyes flashing with a fierce determination. “And that? That right there is what’s got me fired up. It’s what’s driving me harder than ever. The fact that you three, who think you’re the best contenders, haven’t even made me question my place in this match yet—that’s a slap in the face I’m not going to ignore.”

She stepped forward, the intensity radiating from her like heat off a flame. “I’m not just here to compete. I’m here to dominate. To show that nothing, no one, is going to stand in my way. And that means I will do whatever it takes to make sure the five of you don’t make it to the end. Not Joanne. Not Diamond. Not Kate. Not Andrea. Not even the precious Amelia.”

A slow, cold smile crossed her face, the kind that only comes from knowing the fight is already half won. “You want to prove me wrong? Good. Because when you step into that ring with me, you’re stepping into a war. And I promise you this—I’m ready for battle. I’m ready to fight harder, faster, and smarter than any of you.”

Her eyes narrowed, burning with resolve. “So go ahead—bring your best. But know this: I’m coming for that victory, and I’m not stopping for anything or anyone. You haven’t seen what I’m truly capable of yet. And by the time this is over, one thing will be clear: none of you will stand between me and what I deserve.”

She walked toward the edge of the deck’s light and into the shadows. No theatrics. No music. Just silence broken by the wind and the hum of the engines beneath her boots.

[Kate Steele]

It’s astonishing when you take a backseat and look at things from afar. It honestly feels surreal when you are able to see things in a brand new light. As I gaze back on my life it has been filled with its share of ups and downs. Thirteen years ago I didn’t know what to expect as my best friend at the time forced me to go to a wrestling school. The woman in question Stephanie Sullivan was already a well-trained wrestler at the time and all she wanted to do was to go to this wrestling school in Tampa Bay, Florida. I didn’t know much of the industry except watching her wrestle on a national scale. All Star Wrestling Gym would only take fresh faces that have never gone pro. So as a loop hole she decided to use me as a way to get into that school.

I didn’t know what to expect stepping into a ring. I wasn’t a fighter, I was merely a musician, a woman who was wrapped up in having the label of “emo” placed upon her and it was my lifestyle. As long as I had a guitar in my hands that’s the only thing that mattered. I had no idea that me entering into that school would be the start of something great, and now look at me.

Thirteen years ago I have gone through a lot of changes. I am no longer that bratty 21 year old that didn’t care about life or give a shit about anything. I am a professional wrestler and I actually love what I do now. Out of those thirteen years ten of those years were spent in this wonderful company of SCW. It was ten years ago when I stepped through these doors and who knew what they were going to get when my name was signed on the dotted line.

I know some would be quick to put me down and say I haven’t amounted to anything but if you look at things from my perspective it has been a hell of a career. It has been a ten years of being in SCW. There will be those who will say Kate Steele was inconsistent, Diamond Steele made a fool of herself thinking she could out play Heart, or that she wouldn’t make it. Her cousin Ruby was just as foolish and won’t amount to anything.

People are so quick to criticize me and if it’s not about the way I conduct myself there also comes the stuff that everybody wants to say when it concerns me.

She’s too small, she doesn’t have the look, or that she doesn’t have the skillset to make it in SCW.

As much as people may have talked there has always been a part of me that pushed back in spite of all of the naysayers. I did my best to prove them wrong. I love this business, I sleep this business, I eat this business, damn it I am this business and I love what I do.

If I didn’t take this business seriously I wouldn’t have been a longest reigning Roulette Champion, a longest reigning Internet Champion, I wouldn’t have been a Mixed Tag Champion and I certainly have captured a hold of the Golden Briefcase. Honestly I have done everything there is to do in SCW. I have won damn near every single title there is to win in this company but one thing has always eluded me.

It’s that lack of one accomplishment that has brought me back to SCW and it’s the drive to claim it for my own which is pushing me to finally do what I haven’t managed to do, and that’s to one day become an SCW World Bombshell Champion.

It’s the only thing I haven’t done and as long as I have breath in my lungs I am going to do everything in my power to get to the final destination of becoming a World Champion. With the World Championship comes me becoming a Grand Slam Champion and with that I know that the right to be in the Hall of Fame will be obviously follow suit. It’s as simple as that.

I want this so badly, and now as I step aboard the Princess Cruise I see the path that will get me closer to my final destination. All I need to do is to win this Double or Nothing match and I will get what I have been longing for. I will get a shot for the World Bombshell Championship, and I know that if I am put into that situation that nobody will be able to stop me. I just need to really push hard for what I want and it will be mine.

I feel better than I have ever been and I won’t let nobody in this match get in the way of what I want to accomplish. No disrespect to anybody that it is in this match but nobody has been denied of what they want more than I have. Nobody has been put on the backburner and nobody has been cast aside like that of Kate Steele.

I already know that I am the most gorgeous bombshell in all of SCW but it’s time to put some real meaning behind those words and what would go really well with the way that I look is the way that the World Championship would eventually look when I am able to put it around my waist.

Now is not the time for second guessing anything. It’s time to show up just so I can show out. It’s time to be immortalized in the history books and to prove to the entire world that Kate Steele is the best women’s wrestler in all of SCW. So brace yourselves because this Phoenix has been burnt to its ashes but she’s ready to revive herself and to soar above all of the doubters. The wings are flapping and I will be the best damn woman on that cruise, just watch and see for yourself…








With the big double or nothing match coming up Kate needed to get her mind set right for what was to come. She was alone in the ship’s gym. She stood inside the gym working out by herself, sweat and tears fell from her forehead. She had been training nonstop. It wasn’t that long until she took a seat. It wasn’t that long until her sister Sapphire Steele walks into the gym. She offers a long sigh as she crosses her arms and looks at her sibling.

“Kate I think you should take it easy. Your big match isn’t for a few weeks. You don’t need to go all out before you even get on the cruise ship. Settle down and everything will come to you when it happens…”

Kate however quickly shakes her head no as she looks back at her sister.

“No, it’s not just that Phoebe… My head just seems to be clouded as of lately. I want to focus on my match. I waited for a long time to be in this situation but my mind is on drifting off onto Dawn Lohan… I want to be training, and on this match but I just can’t shake her out of my head…”

Sapphire raises her eyes in return. “Your ex, why in the hell would you be thinking about your ex. You have a great thing going at home. You just got married to Blayke and she should be the only thing on your mind…”

Kate nods her head as she forms a grin. “That would be true but I have been speaking to Dawn again. She has me hooked and I don’t know what to do. The right thing to do is to just walk away and to live a life that’s happily ever after with my current wife but there’s always that part of me that wants to go back and to look at what the past could present…”

Sapphire quickly shakes her head as she looks back at her sister. “Well that’s just foolish thinking. You should never look back at your past. You have everything you could have ever wanted at your home. Just leave Lohan behind and focus on the here and now. It should be a real easy decision unless you…”

Kate sighs as she looks back at her sister as she offers a nod of the head.

“Bloody fucking hell Kate?! What the hell is wrong with you?! You shouldn’t make things so easy. I know you are better than that. You need to focus on what you value is important and right now all of this looks like it’s one big distraction. Don’t get caught up in any of that. You have a huge opportunity ahead of you. You have your whole family behind you. I rather you not throw it away because you can’t figure out who you want to love and what’s important to you…”

Kate quickly shakes her head.

“I know what’s important! You don’t think I know that my final destination is eventually making it to the World Championship?! It’s all I ever wanted since I came into SCW. It’s the only thing that’s on my mind and I will do whatever it takes to get there. I will work harder than everybody else.

[Andrea Hernandez]

I’ve never liked being on this cruise and this year was no different. This dates back to when I was first on it back in 2020 and completely hit rock bottom feeling like a worthless piece of shit losing to Evie Jordan again and being ejected from the world title picture for many years up until last year’s High Stakes.I was sitting in the cabin that I was assigned in and I was going through a few triggers. The colors of the walls, the lighting, the window view… it all felt so cold and familiar to me and when I actually got a look at the cabin number I was in, I was completely spooked by what I just realized…

“I’m in the same damn cabin I was in five years ago…”

The trauma was flooding back: Evie, feeling like a piece of shit, hearing the other Bombshells celebrate my defeat from in here, feeling like I was a failure of a daughter, and so on.

Depression drowned me incredibly easy as well as the feeling of just wanting to give up.

“You gave in five years ago…” I could hear the demon inside of me saying. “After you lost to Evie again, you decided that you were worthless and that you were incapable of amounting to anything that you wanted to be.”

“Don’t even start with me…” I said back.

“You disappointed your family all those years ago while you proved Evie right. Even now, you’re STILL proving her right. You let down your father while she ran you out of the building again. You made the best decision that you could ever make and that was giving up and letting me take over.”

“It was the WORST mistake of my career…” I retorted. “If I could do it all over again…”

“You NEEDED ME five years ago just like you need me now. If you never let me out in the first place, you’re a retired wrestler that never made it to her fullest potential.”

“I got out of SCW to subdue you and fix myself…” I reminded that darkness in me.  “I destroyed my own doubts and I came back stronger and better than ever. I won a world championship even when I was down in the dumps over High Stakes. That’s more than enough strength to prove that I don’t need you…”

“Then why are you right back to where you were five years ago?"

That stung me, realizing how true that was.

“It’s all an unfortunate coincidence…”

“No, it’s destiny!” the inner darkness said to me. “Think about where you would be if you let me out by now. You would’ve won at High Stakes in front of your whole family and you would’ve avoided all this.”

“It’s a LIE!”

“IS IT?!?!?! Because everything since High Stakes shows that it was the truth. You put that pressure on yourself to make your family proud and look what happened. You should’ve torn into Kayla but you didn’t because you were that much of a PUSSY to go after her, FEARING what she was going to say back. That didn’t work out so well for you the last time you faced her didn’t it?”

The defeatist attitude within me grew at this point.

“...I tried to avoid that poison she spews out of her mouth, only to get buried like a nothing piece of shit and getting compared to Crystal Hilton…”

“EXACTLY!”

“Maybe you’re right… maybe I should just embrace that this is the way things are supposed to be…”

“Being this ‘inspirational redeemer’ isn’t working. Think about how different things would’ve been if you just went right after Kayla instead of trying to avoid her ‘verbal poison’... which you failed to do anyway…”

“I would’ve won at High Stakes…” I thought with a sigh. “I would’ve beaten her in the rematch and gotten her out of the world title picture. I would’ve won the Chamber knowing that fighting with you would’ve given me that extra edge again to lay waste to simpleton pieces of trash like Necra and Mercedes…”

“Everything that has happened since the Chamber wouldn’t have had you given up this ‘good girl’ nonsense…”

“I’d be the world champion right now… and the fact that I’m not is all my own fault. I should’ve just let you take over me just like I did in this cabin five years ago. It would’ve saved me so much suffering.”

“You know what to do to no longer suffer anymore. There’s no avoiding me nor what you were always meant to be in SCW. There is no point in trying to overcome the past and prove people wrong because all you do in that regard is fail…”

“I’m done fighting this…” I said to myself. “There’s no way I can make it in SCW sticking to what I truly believe in. If I keep pushing with something that’s not working, all I’ll do is sink further and fail the way everyone else wants me to…”

Realizing this made me feel completely free, but then the room suddenly got numbingly chilly and the room seemed to get brighter. I was shivering a bit, not even getting the chance to revel in the relief I was feeling that I wasn’t carrying the burden that I just dismissed.

“Open the notebook…” I could hear my father say. In a flash, I remembered what my mother gave me. “...before you give up completely…”

I looked down while still trying to deal with the chill in the room. The notebook was in a bag right in front of me and I was remembering what my mother was telling me about how it was going to help me significantly once I opened it up and read the contents inside.

“Alright Dad…” I said out loud with a sigh while my nerves were starting to go haywire. Even those two words, which were the first I said outside of my own thoughts, felt surreal to let out. “...what do you have to say?”

I reached for the notebook and on the first page, I saw it was a letter from my father that was dated shortly after I lost the world championship the first time…

“Andrea…

I understand that losing a world championship feels like the most heartbreaking and devastating thing in the world when you go through it for the first time. I’ve been there. You’re terrified that you’ve let me down losing that title quicker than you wanted to and that’s what will break your heart more than anything….”

I stopped reading briefly feeling like this spoke to me after the Chamber as well.

“...you’re taking things to heart so badly because you feel like you let the bullies in the locker room win and that they are celebrating your failure. I KNOW YOU and how you react to heartbreak and I know that you feel like Evie and all the other bullies  were right about you being a ‘fairy tale’. Let me tell you, Andrea

NONE OF IT IS TRUE…”

My eyes widened with shock seeing that last sentence in huge, bold letters! My father even wrote it in red ink in contrast with the black the rest of the letter is and underlined it to emphasize the point for me.

“I understand you’re fragile to criticism from others and that the hate you’re getting from everyone else is overwhelming you and your suffering comes from not yet learning how to handle it but the truth is, my daughter, that while it’s worse in SCW than most places, hate, criticism, and scorn is something that never goes away in this business and for the sake of your future and your career, you have to learn how to handle it! You’re strong enough and smart enough to handle it and overcome it and when you get it, you will never, have to worry about it again….”

I paused my reading and teared up a bit knowing that five years later, I STILL hadn’t learned how to overcome all the negativity and criticism that comes my way CONSTANTLY in SCW.

“I know that you will be pushed beyond your limits by that locker room, week after week, match after match, promo after promo. You will be tempted to lash back out in hatred because it’s human nature and most of that locker room operates that way. But the secret to overcoming it?

Love.”

I was taken aback by what I just read from my father.

“Love? Why the hell would I want to love anyone in that locker room after everything I’ve had to deal with from them over the years? Sure, I own that I reacted horribly to it years ago and became what I was. But how can I carry love for the ones that pushed me to that point?”

I sighed before I kept reading.

“Learn to love yourself and you'll NEVER have to suffer from the hatred and criticism and empty bullshit from others again.”

My eyes lit up with shock.

“The hatred you get from those in that room stems from a place of hate within themselves so they have to drag you down to their level. Rise above that, Andrea. Look inside yourself and see how strong you’ve become and how strong you’re destined to be.”

The tears started flooding down my face and I started to really cry once I read those final words. The last five years suddenly flashed before me and I was quick to remember that I left SCW to rebuild myself and then came back stronger, through all of it, as a much better wrestler,  and even won the world title when I wasn’t even giving myself my best.

“I got you, Daddy….” I said through my own tears as years of awful pain I was carrying inside of me was melting away in seconds. I took a few moments to soak it all in. I came to the realization that I wasn’t weak like I thought I was, then or now and that I was so much stronger than what the last few months, and the empty, vapid, horrible opinions of other people were throwing at me.

I realized that everything that happened five years ago, prior to turning that horrible leaf that I did, wasn’t my fault and that it was Evie, Crystal, Kate and all those bitches that were the problem.

It was never me!

To realize that at last opened my eyes and that room suddenly felt warmer again. I had this grim determination in my heart now knowing that to be the truth. I set down the notebook and I walked to the bathroom of the cabin that suddenly didn’t feel like a trigger anymore. I wiped away the tears and planned to open the mirror to get to my cosmetics inside when I saw my own reflection… and an image of myself from a few years back from when I was that evil, horrible person as a result of allowing the words of other people to break me.

But that evil part of me wasn’t letting go yet…

“You don’t believe any of what you just read. Five years ago, you were a failure that was one of the worst world champions of all time and you managed to duplicate that earlier this year. All you read were lies and…”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

How I was able to keep that in my head instead of screaming that at the mirror is a miracle.

“You’re DONE! Yeah, maybe there were some things I wish I did different or that could’ve been different.but for all of that, I accept myself for who I am and I was ALWAYS good enough to be me just the way I am! So what if those reigns weren’t what I wanted? Does that make Evie or Kayla right? Fuck no it doesn’t. So what if I lost to those two? So what if I screwed up against them? Does that make me a failure or not good enough? Fuck no it doesn’t. I know my own shortcomings have caused those unfortunate outcomes… like with that last match I just had… but it’s NEVER made me a lesser wrestler or person, a failure to my family or any of the negative bullshit anyone in that locker room has ever said about me true at all…”

“You MAKE them true fucking up at the worst possible moments…”

“You’re WRONG! EVERYONE ELSE IS WRONG!”

That fire in me was really raging something deep now.

“Why? Because I love and accept myself unconditionally despite my own flaws and shortcomings! I’ve been through and overcome so much more shit than anyone can ever imagine which makes me one of the STRONGEST people in the business and that love is ALL I need to do to make my doubts that create you go away!”

“But the others are still going to trash you, twist your intentions around and they’ll never stop calling you fake because they KNOW it gets to you and they KNOW that’s how they can bring you down because it’s worked MANY times in SCW. That’s where you need me to put those bitches in the ground!”

"I am who I am and I don't give a FUCK anymore…” I said out loud before I went back to my internal thoughts and the end of the mental struggle I’ve had more empowered than I’ve ever been. “...I NEVER needed you and I will NEVER need you! You were born out of my own insecurities and being in my feelings too much about the perception of others but NO MORE! That’s done! YOU’RE DONE!”

I closed my eyes and I took a deep breath. When I opened them, that image of my evil self was gone from the mirror. I looked down at the sink with my heart being filled with a new inner strength I’ve never had before. Looking back at the mirror, all I had to do was say one thing out loud to myself…

“I’m never going to have to worry about relapsing back to that bullshit again! It feels so god damn good knowing that. The best feeling in the world is that starting this weekend and going forward, I know I will NEVER, EVER be weighed down by ANYTHING, ANYONE ever says about me or two me again. Fuck them all! I’m doing ME whether they fucking like it or not and if they DON’T like it? That’s a THEM problem. It never was a me problem, it never will be. Thanks Dad, for coming through for me one last time…”

I gathered myself and opened the mirror, re-did my face with the cosmetics inside of it to rid my face of the mascara streaks I had from the earlier tears and with a greater self-confidence than ever I left my cabin to FINALLY have my own fun on the cruise, whatever that might be for the first time that I’ve been on it, to celebrate myself knowing I was finally free of my own doubts and demons.

Later…

It was late enough to where I knew the other SCW wrestlers were likely not going to be up there, but for the first time, I actually took the time to go out on the deck and look out at the sea. I was definitely coming down from a peaceful bliss that I finally got to experience for the first time being on the ship in the four times that I have been on it. The water was clear enough for me to see my reflection in the ocean.

I could feel the warmth of knowing that I no longer had to be ashamed of myself or ashamed of anything horrible that I went through in SCW just flowing right through me. I finally felt free from so many burdens and so much issues that were dragging me down. The camera was nearby, though not on yet. I wanted to think about what I was going to say considering that I made the choice to not only NOT watch anything any of my opponents said about me, but to not even directly address them at all.

It wasn’t a decision that I was regretting and looking ahead to the match that I had that weekend, I had a strange, yet peaceful aura filling my soul and letting me know that everything was going to be okay…

Finally…

I signaled for the camera to roll and when I saw the light, I began to express my thoughts.

“I’ll be real here. Summer XXXtreme is by far my least favorite Supercard of all of them that are on the calendar. After the first time I was on this cruise, I hated it and this year is no exception. I know that the last couple of times I was here, I won but they weren’t wins that I would consider particularly satisfying considering last year was a random triple threat and the time before that was in 2021 beating Samantha Marlowe in a two out of three falls match. Yes, I know Marlowe is a legend and I respect that, but Sammi wasn’t at her best and I caught her in the middle of a downswing of her career so I can’t say I can be THAT proud of that. Of course, the first time I came here was losing to Evie Jordan for the second supercard in a row and the fourth time in a row at all and it took me years to get beyond that. Even after I did, it was hard to come back on this cruise simply because I didn’t want to face that traumatic experience that I went through five years ago. In a match like what I am about to participate on Sunday, that would put me at a heavy disadvantage. However, earlier tonight in the privacy of my own room, I came across a message from my father that he wrote to me five years ago after I lost the world title to Evie… a message that opened my eyes and finally gave me the confidence to face my traumas, learn that everything that happened up until that point WASN’T my fault five years ago and finally made me come out of that cabin and enjoy this damn cruise for once…

My recent shortcomings, as I discussed before, ARE my fault and I take full responsibility for that. But should I lose this match? It’s not because I wasn’t good enough or whatever negative nonsense a future opponent might throw at me. It’s because someone else was better. I won’t have that excuse this time of “I’ve been dogging it because I let HIgh Stakes get to me for an eternity” anymore. That’s part of growing up: you acknowledge your mistakes and once you do, you toss them aside and you don’t use those as a crutch anymore. But really, everything that happened from High Stakes last year up until now is rooted in heartbreak that happened five years ago when the first SCW Bombshells World Championship reign that I had and then my disgraceful drowning on this cruise five years ago when I got my rematch took place. My biggest weakness really, is that I would take things from other people too fucking personally and I would allow losses to bother me too much instead of just filtering out the negativity and learning how to move on. I wouldn’t move on because I was too young and too immature to face my defeats and I would rather just run away and do everything that I could to sweep them under the rug but at some point, that just doesn’t work anymore. After what just happened to me, I finally had to learn my lesson the hard way and that’s what I’ve done coming into this thing. I know it’s not going to guarantee me a world championship and it’s not going to guarantee me a win in this match. But this is a process…

I’m done running away…

I’m through with responding with hatred, criticism, lies and bullshit from other people with hatred and criticism of my own right because that doesn’t make me any better than the person throwing the vitriol at me. I’m through living in that cloud of negativity and allowing myself to be just another Bombshell on the Sin City Wrestling assembly line, if you catch my drift. I know that I’m distant. Hell, even going back to my first run, I always was. But I’ve never been someone that opens her heart so easily. I’m perfectly fine with riding this thing on my own. But for me? This match is my REAL coming out party! This is where I TRULY learn how to thrive int his company. The truth is, in perspective? Everything I’ve accomplished up to this point? Winning the title the first time five years ago, winning the Internet Championship tournament, going an entire calendar year undefeated, beating Kayla Richards for the title, winning the Belle of the Brawl last year? It was all a warm up. At NO point when I accomplished ANY of that was I truly at my absolute best as a whole in my professional career. This is not to shortchange what I’ve accomplished, but this is to paint things in a different perspective.

For five years, I’ve been fighting with nothing but internal demons inside of me. I’ve had anchors in my mind stemming from many experiences in my life and career weighing me down and yet despite all of that, I was able to accomplish everything that I just described? In spite of myself, I’ve still managed to become a five time world champion across the board? Just imagine what I can do when the chains come off and I am finally free from my own burdens. Tonight, I finally learned the key to breaking free from everything that was weighing me down for years and sure, it might not guarantee me this victory on Sunday, but it WILL unlock the brightest future I’ve ever had and it WILL guarantee that I will NEVER, EVER have to suffer through the internal darkness and the proverbial chains that have done nothing but weigh me down for years, even before I ever came to this company. I can’t stop some mindless moron in this division such as Necra Octavian Kane or Kate Steele for instance, to throw shade my way and to resort to name calling and lies and bullshit. I realize that now. But what I CAN stop is how negatively I react to it and how up in my feelings I get about that type of trash. What I CAN control is how much I choose to even HEAR all that nonsense if I choose to hear any of it at all and like I said coming into this thing, I am NOT even going to BOTHER hearing your nonsense, your lies, your bullshit and all this other stuff that for the most part, comes from within a place of insecurity to some extent or some shape or form. You don’t have to like me, but you have to remember that if you choose to even try to bring me down, there’s a REASON why you make that choice.

It’s because to some extent, even though you may turn on the camera and you might say ‘well, I’m not intimidated by Andrea’, you’re honestly, for the most part, a fucking liar and let me tell you why: because if you’re NOT intimidated by me whatsoever, then you don’t even bother going out there and making the grandiose effort to even try to slander me and bring me down to your level at all. You don’t even BOTHER trying to stretch out a lie about me or to take something I said and twist it around to make it sound like whatever it is you want it to sound like to make ME look bad and considering how I am constantly targeted and criticized around here more then most people on this roster? The truth is? I’m one of the biggest threats in this company and the biggest threat in this match because of all the people in this match, I am THE person you are going to expend most of your energy on to try and drag down AND to expend most of your energy on to make sure I don’t win. You are all worried about ME, THREATENED by me to a degree, INTIMIDATED by what I have to say and when you look at my resume, yeah, you have every right to be but NOW? After I am DONE being my own worst enemy and dragging myself down by my own insecurities and allowing other people to get to me? I’m about to become an even bigger threat than ever whether I win this fucking thing or not. You’re ALL worried about beating me, dragging me down to your level, and making sure I don’t win to the point where you lose focus on YOU… and what YOU need to do to win because you’re so absorbed in making sure I don’t win and that’s what gives ME the power here and come Sunday what’s what gives ME the edge because I’m NOT worrying about what someone else says or what someone else tries to do to bring me down anymore.

What I am “worried” about is me, and doing whatever the fuck I need to do to get to the next level as a professional wrestler, empty words and adversity be damned. There has NEVER, in the history of this business, been a match that has been decided by a verbal debate that brings the worst out of people and that has admittedly brought that the worst in me for a stretch of time. Yeah, I am highly opinionated and I tell it like it is. And yeah, I have probably hurt a few feelings in this company both unintentionally and intentionally. I’m only human after all. Yeah, I came in with an attitude that most of the locker room didn’t like when I first got here and the reason why I fell off the wagon five years ago and wound up suffering the rock bottom of not just my SCW career, but my ENTIRE career PERIOD was because I let the haters and the critics win. The ONLY reason why my last match happened the way I did was for the same fucking reason when I went in there acting and feeling like I wanted to be anywhere else but that six sided ring. What I should’ve done five years ago was look ALL the haters in their faces in the eye and say “I am who the fuck I am, like it or not and if you don’t like it? Tough shit! Not my problem!” I don’t have to change for anyone else but me and I don’t have to answer to ANYONE or ANY of their criticisms or commentary or their Monday morning quarterbacking quack “psychological evaluations”. I didn’t have to do it then and I sure as hell don’t have to now…

Not to make other people happy anyway…

So take it for what it is to every single person in this match. I am who I am. I’m not perfect. I know my quirks. I know what I can be. I know that some parts of my personality rub others the wrong way, but it’s impossible to make everyone happy and even then the only person that matters as far as that is concerned is yourself. So yeah, bring your damn worst. I go into Summer Xtreme, I win this match and I truly become one with my best self and truly learn the kind of power that I have to not only control my own destiny and to be the person, the woman and the wrestler that I am meant to be through all the ups and downs and if I don’t? I STILL have learned that power and have gotten one step closer to become one with my best self AND I know coming out of it that most, if not all of my opponents, put in THAT much effort to make sure I didn’t win the match not knowing that I STILL got another victory of sorts KNOWING that as a fact: that so many people went out of their way to try to hold me back. I should’ve NEVER been up in my feelings five years ago about the unwarranted, undeserved hate I got from so many people back then knowing that really, they were the ones up in their feelings about me and the success I picked up so quickly and how I was carrying myself… but you live, you learn, you grow and regardless of what happens on Sunday, I am THRILLED to know that I see the REAL perspective of that past for what it REALLY is!

Sunday?

People are going to witness the power of the wisdom of mastering the knowledge that the only person that defines and knows their truth… is the person themselves.”

I cued for the cameraman to cut and the feed ended. He then handed me a photo album of some horrible memories of 5 years ago in SCW ranging from my loss of the World Championship to Evie, to what happened on this cruise, to High Stakes with Crystal and everything in between. I glanced through some of the photos of literally the worst summer of my life, got angry and then as hard as I could, I chucked those now-meaningless bad memories and that 2020 photo album overboard. I smirked watching those memories sink as I experienced the thrilling joy of never having those burdens again.

[Amelia Reynolds]

echo 04 ★ truth

I was always told by everyone else I know that Supercards are kinda that one time in the entirety of Sin City’s existence that I can spend hooking daggers into everyone. I didn’t understand what that meant when I was told it, but after witnessing this cruise…and this Supercard…I get it. I mean, the chance to actually sit down and refute what someone else had to say while still being able to get your points in?

Fuckin’ brilliant, hey.

We’re off to sea, and I think I want to point out that the ocean is quite a bit louder than I thought it’d be. I’m not sure if that’s just because the boat itself sounds like it might need a rudder or two repaired, or if it’s the amount of wrestlers and people on this ship that seem to think that chaos is hilarious, or if I’m hearing Dory out in the ocean screamin’ about whales and P. Sherman Wallaby Way Sydney, but here we are. In my absolutely personal opinion, though, it’s not any louder than some of you tryin’ to scream from the rafters and convince yourselves that you’re already the winner.

And bein’ stuck on a boat with five other women who think they’ve already like…won? It’s a recipe for absolute disaster, but also a good goddamn lesson in humility.

It’s kinda noticeable the level of desire that’s present in this matchup. Three of us made our voices heard, and I would be remiss to say that the other three just couldn’t find the time, desire, or skill to put themselves to the test. I mean, I guess I get it. After all, going into a match with five other women and possibly having the slimmest opportunity to win can be daunting. Two of them, though…I mean, I get it.

Joanne Cannoli – and yes, I know it’s Canelli, but now I’m just calling her a cannoli – couldn’t roll her way out here and say anything the first time, why should I expect redemption being desired? Is it because the competition is steeper now? Is it because everythin’ is different? You can be the first Bombshell Internet Champion, but nothin’ matters if you can’t adjust and get with the times. I was hopeful that I would see something new from her. But obvi-obvi, that isn’t happenin’.

Kate Steele did what I expected, ya know? Ran her mouth one week. When we faced last, I learned that Kate Steele…has this deep, deep insecurity about herself, like a fragile little ego being held that is super dependent on everyone else lookin’ at her and recognizin’ her greatness…but if ya didn’t care about what people said, you wouldn’t have spent fifteen minutes cryin’ about it either.

Sorry, not sorry.

Kate loves to list her trophies like they matter, but then say no one believed in her. Proud of the work done on herself…both figuratively and literally, and I mean…bet.More power to you in the titty committee. But like…maybe you would get better if you’d done as much work on your heart as you did your beauty, because that’s where real champions get built.

That’s where people like me get built.

I know I’m pretty. I have platinum hair and I have blue eyes, and I wear makeup, and I can thot with some of the best of them. My boyfriend tells me I’m beautiful all the time. But that’s secondary to who I am. I wasn’t built in an operating room or a stylist chair. And I sure as shit didn’t get to where I am by yellin’ at anyone that I’m beautiful and they should push me just cause of that.

Sorry, but you can’t buy your way into resilience. Can’t surgery your way into legacy. Can’t paint over your history and cracks with glitz, ego and expect it to hold up under pressure.

And sweetheart, you haven’t. You haven’t held up under pressure, because the woman I saw last time that fought with glitter and grit didn’t act the way she did and not show to prove herself this week. You say that this Kate you are is different, but it just kinda sounds like the last one at this point. And if we’re bein’ honest, Kate, you keep askin’ for more, but then you don’t follow through. You don’t actually want challenges. You want applause, with your stupid pop routine and your thought that if you thot your way up, you’ll be respected.

You told me last time that all I’d done was won once.

But who won my second match? Me. You’re not as evolved as you think. And if the only way you feel strong is by tearin’ down women who’ve already survived worse than you, then maybe you should get surgery on your brain next.

And Diamond Caldwell? Listenin’ to you talkin’ to us like we’re in your secondary school experience kinda made me want to stab myself in the ears and keep that trauma from rising in my brain. It bothers me when people can’t…like…own up to their own stupidity and I kind of wish I hadn’t done any research now. But let me point out a couple of things on ya, sweetie…you fight for Seleana Zdunich like she’s a lifeline…which makes you look like a shadow. What happens if she doesn’t stand behind ya if you’re so co-dependent on her existence to make you look good? And if we’re bein’ honest, you’re sittin’ there in your promotionals sayin’ that you don’t care what people think, but just like Andrea – and we’ll get there – you spent an entire moment to sell yourself and what you’re bringin’ to the table in a whole ass contradiction. I don’t care, but you do. You so do. Oh my god, you so do.

Let’s also just like…totally note that you act like you’re swingin’ on people like they owe you money and you’re Rihanna. Definitely screamin’ Bitch better have my money, but not actually gettin’ the skills up there in order to retrieve the money. This isn’t just some brawl-for-all, we’re not in a fight club, and this isn’t a sanctioned UFC knockdown dragout. This is precision, this is wrestlin’.

And if you think comin’ in here with a pretty face and nails to hell, then you’re wrong. I don’t think you know what wrestlin’ means.

It means you bleed with your whole soul, means ya hurt in silence when no one’s watchin’. You kinda just learn to hold your breath, and then you swing. Ya show up when the crowd’s thin, even when the lights aren’t that bright, and when the match doesn’t mean much to anyone but you.

Aiden taught me that the hardest fights aren’t against opponents, although they’re definitely a huge factor. But it’s mostly about the voices in your head tellin’ ya to stay down. That sometimes you kinda fall flat, and then you laugh through the bruise because if you don’t, you don’t get up again. Taught me humor is a shield, timin’ is everythin’ and loyalty is paramount. You can be underestimated, and still flip the narrative on its head, ya know? Lookit him this week, right? Facin’ off for a chance at the World Heavyweight Championship, when all he wanted was the Roulette Championship shot he deserved.

And Dickie.

You all don’t know Dickie. Or maybe you’ve heard of him, and you’ve been curious. But even though he didn’t train me, he taught me that silence is paramount. He’ll sit there and watch the tape until his eyes burn, won’t quit when his body is screamin’. It’s kinda hard to watch at the same time because I don’t want to see him hurt like that, but he gives a piece of himself to this sport like the canvas is the only thing that’s ever loved him back.

And lemme tell you how hard it is to fight with fabric and wood as the subject of any affection. It sucks. Oh my god, it sucks.

But wrestlin’ ain’t about bein’ loud, or who has the best knife in the ribs. It isn’t about the heaviest hands. Or the biggest boobs, the blondest hair, the shittiest attitude or even the most spooky-seasoned. It has to do with everythin’ about the soul, and standing across from someone and sayin’ to them that you respect them as a competitor, you don’t hate them, and still believin’ that you’re going to give them hell.

And Andrea.

Hi, we’ve met before.

I pinned you last time. Two weeks ago.

I told you what I thought about you and your perceptions. I’m happy to repeat them, and I’m sure you’re gonna sit there and tell me that I’m nothin’ different than anyone else. That I’m repeating the same bullshit that everyone else is doing. And that’s fine. If that’s whatcha want to believe, then you believe that right on through, from here over to Five Burroughs. I noted you still have the same commonality here that you do there – when you don’t do well, you shut your mouth. You internalize.
But this time…this time you decided to spend your entire last promo basically tellin’ us how broken ya are. How angry, how you didn’t want to be there. I heard it. I heard what you said. You said I didn’t even want to be there like it was a fact, like it didn’t matter, like none of us would really recognized the weight of that that meant. Sweetheart, sugarplums, that’s not just a bad day, it’s a tell. That’s the red flag hangin’ from the rafters that turns into a white flag.

Ya gave up.

You gave up. You got pinned and you told the world you didn’t care anymore. And now you’re tryin’ to convince us that you’re back for realisies and that if you just say the words, you’ll hope we all forget the dichotomy of your presentation.

But I don’t forget. None of us forget. To sit there and tell us that you didn’t care about a match is an enormous fuck you to the rest of us that put our all into that thing, and a huge damn insult to the people who want to succeed. This division was built on the bones of wanting the same amount of limelight and you go and pull a bitchass move like that, while still expectin’ the spotlight to fall on you like you matter in the grand scheme of things a couple of weeks later because someone licked your wounds for you?

Ya lost your fire. And now you’re expecting us to help you out by given’ you a torch. And that kind of confession, sayin’ that you’re nervous and can’t succeed…is kinda dangerous. Not for me, not for anyone else. But for you. Because you’re still sittin’ acting like your owed something because of your past, but you haven’t been fightin’ with passion. And if you can’t say it with your chest, then you’re gonna be eatin’ canvas before you remember what you were standin’ for.

And ya know what else stood out to me, Andi? You sounded mad. At the crowd, at the locker room. At the idea that anyone could still see you as anything less than what you think you are…but that’s the thing about the world, isn’t it? People stop listenin’ after they’ve heard the same diatribe over and over again. I’m not here cause I threw a tantrum like you did. I’m not here because I kicked up dust and demanded attention. I’m here because I’ve been studying, sharpening, and climbing…quietly. Dutifully. I did my job.

I don’t need to be angry to grow, and you do. That’s the difference. You’re still fightin’ everyone in the shadows and givin’ breaths to every critic. You’re not focused on us, you’re just too busy provin’ to everyone else what everyone already knows: you’re livin’ in the past and you’ve been left behind. You’re still livin’ in twenty-twenty one with that article that wrote you off and still trying to climb out from that hole. ou keep fightin’ ghosts and callin’ it victory…like you’re never gonna stumble.

But every time you stumble, you promise it’s gonna be different. If it always has to be said, has it truly ever been done? Have you remembered how to not stumble? How to not fall? You’ve comeback how many times and performatively succeeded? Kayla beat you for the championship after you said you were going to hold onto it forever. She came back. And you? You spend so much time the next few matches explainin’ to the rest of us who you’re not that I’m not even sure you know who you are. But you certainly spend all of that time too screamin’ at the heavens that no one is listenin. Like you have to burn out for your fire to rise.

But you’re still climbin’ out of the ash.

Andrea…I don’t really need to spend any time tearin’ you down. You’ve done that well enough yourself. I just need to stand here steady while you keep trying to remember how it feels to have victory that isn’t tainted by your poor soul.

Then…then there’s you, Alexandra.

You didn’t come in this time cryin’ like you were bein’ broken. You walked in like you forged in the fires of Gondor and bathed in the blood of the Naz’ghul.  Showed up with that calm, queenly little statuesque self that reminds me of a robotic gothic misteress, like your words should echo through cathedral halls, all drippin’ from some bloodstained altar while we all stand in reverence of your tragedy.

Girl. My girl. PLEASE.

You’re not a fallen angel and you honestly just kinda sound exhausted. I watched you speak like grief and all your trials and tribs made you a monarch upon us all. Cool, you won Queen for  a Day…but soundin’ like you’re sufferin’ was a birthright and that we should bow our heads for the edgelordy parade of pain that follows you into every ring you grace kinda made me gag.

A lot.

In a trash can.

And I’m not even seasick.

None of us are prayin’. I hope yuou realize that.

You’re draped in metaphor and whiusperin’ threats like their some kinda prophecy. You’ve created this tragic little epic with you in a high-collared coat and a crown of dusk and a graveyard of forgotten women at your feet. You speak slow, deliberate, like every word’s a blade, and we’re all just kinda supposed to sit there and revere ya.

Here’s the thing about illusions though, Alexandra. They only work if the audience forgets to blink.

You’re walkin’ around like you’re the only truth on the ship. Like ten of you haven’t been spit out before, voidwalkin’ and actin’ like you’re the biggest, baddest thing in the world. I HATE overblown shit and that’s what I see in you. Real danger doesn’t rehearse and doesn’t make ya wait for the right lightin’ before it strikes. Kinda like Kate up there, you’ve spent so long stylin’ yourself as a storm that you forgot how to fit like one.

You called me a mystery. Said I was a problem waitin’ to be solved. Like that makes me small, like you’ve done all your goth princess math and you’re just waitin’ to circle an answer. I’m not a problem, I’m not a riddle, and I’m not some code you break with poetic threats and a sharpened jawline. I’m a person. A fighter. And a woman who’s bled more quietly than you’ve ever screamed.

I just don’t talk about it.

That’s where you and I differ. You want the world to flinch when you whisper. You want to stand in front of a storefront and talk like you’re some deathbringer reckoning, like your prophecies and the strip should watch you burn another name down. But…you mistake volume control for depth. You call yourself reality when we all look at you like you’ve kinda gotten stuck in a weird version of VampireFreaks and think you’re still relevant in twenty-twenty five.

Ya told me I haven’t bled for my momentum.

Honey I’m doin’ it now.

You look at me and see the version of yourself that you resented and refuse to let surface: one that doesn’t have to shout to be heard. You’ve said you ended careers. You’re proud of that and that’s your legacy. But I’m not here to end anyone. I’m here to outlast them. I’m here to outlast you. And for all your talk about smoke and mirror, you ever notice how many shadows you wrap yourself in before you step into any kinda light?

You’re not a ceiling. You are not the end all be all. You are just another woman who continues to live in this delusion that you matter. And I’m sorry, but you don’t. There are thousands of jokes I have for you at your expense. I’m here to play the game of outlast the woman who thinks they’re the alpha and omega. You can call me smoke and mirror, but you’re the one with the costume. I walk into the ring with nothin’ but my truth.

It’s almost like you say you’re reality, but you only ever show up dressed up like a nightmare and hoe we’ll confuse the two. I’m not afraid of you. I’ve already survived things you couldn’t name. I don’t need to end you to rise. I just need to pass through.

Hint hint.

I will.

So all of you, keep sitting there and telling me how I’m going to keep failing. How it’s a fluke, how it’s my second match, how I won’t survive.

And let me tell you now – it’ll be my hand raised. And yours?

Not even lifted.
★★★★★★★

Some mellow, steel drum version of a pop song that hadn’t been relevant in at least six years was playing softly over the overhead speakers. The rhythm of it matched the gentle sway of the Princess Cruise liner as it cut through the ocean. There were all kinds of people on the ship, but in reality, no one really paid attention to another person, unless they were trying to seek out and spy like some creepy salesman.

Amelia’s legs were stretched out over a poolside chaise, one flip-flop dangling from her toes as she laid back beneath the shade of a wide striped umbrella. There was absolutely zero chance that she was going to burn on this cruise, because her skin was fair and literally fuck a sunburn and the ring. Her sunglasses were oversized, tinted pink, and her bikini was modest. Black. White edging. She sun into the kind of calm that merely came from sun-warmed skin and salt in the air. Her fingers softly held onto a finished strawberry daiquiri, condensation dripping down the side of it like it was weeping.

She wasn’t alone. Kallie Reznik, her sister in law, was sitting in the water, her legs dangling in the chlorine. Her feet lazily swished beneath the surface, her pink bikini bright under the sun and her blonde hair wrapped up in a pony tail. Her small baby bump was showing now, and she kept a light, loose hand over it.

On the lounge next to her, Kayla laid with her legs crossed at the ankle, sunglasses perched on her nose and seemed to be resting. Calmly. She didn’t seem to care who stared at her, her black bikini showing enough skin that if Finn were standing here, he’d probably be attempting to lay a towel over her at some point.

The conversation between them was soft. Teasing. Friendly. A rare moment in the middle of a chaotic life where none of them had to be on.

And that was important to Amelia, because in the next few days, she was going to be dealing with a huge event that could make or break her so far. Inside, she was nervous. But Kallie had prepped her for this, smiling, kissing her on the cheek and making sure she felt safe in this. That no one would be angry with her if she lost, but she knew herself well enough that she would be disappointed.

Because she wanted to face Kayla.

If Kayla retained, of course.

She looked over at Kayla, who sighed, turning her head and frowning.

“I swear,” Kayla muttered, flipping a page, “if I see one more couple try to slow dance to Ed Sheeran, I might just throw myself overboard.”

“You won’t,” Amelia smirked.

“Dramatic,” Kallie added.

Kayla gave a lazy shrug. “What’s the point of being on a floating palace if not to be dramatic?”

She flickered her fingers a little. The light shone off her diamond. The diamond that they hadn’t noticed. The ring that was attached to her like it was bought purposefully for her. The one sitting on her left hand. Amelia sat up. She lifted her glasses.

“I do declare, Kallisto,” she started, imitating Gone With the Wind. “That is a fuckin’ ring.”

Kallie snapped her head in her direction, and then looked at Kayla’s fingers. “oh…Ohmy…OHMYGOD KAYLA DID FINN ASK THE QUESTION?! DID HE ASK THE QUESTION? DID HE GET ON HIS KNEES AND–”

“Oh. No. Ew.” Kayla waved her off. “I mean, yes. He asked the question. I guess. Took me up to the jewelery store, told me to pick one out.”

Amelia thinks about it, nodding. That sounded like Finn. Actually, that sounded like Finn and Kayla. No outward shows of affection. No big to do. Pick one out. Probably pointed at a set of engagement rings like it was obvious what he was asking and she picked the most ostentatious one available because that fit Kayla’s personality.

“Are you happy?”

Kayla glanced sideways at her, but before she could respond, there was the faintest sound of a clatter from somewhere behind the pool bar.

It wasn’t quite a scream.

It was a whoop.

Then—

“PARKOUR!”

Aiden Reynolds was first on the deck, leaping over a railing like it wasn’t even there. He flipped, sailing through the air like a cannonball. He leaped over a lounge like a track star, rolled forward, sidebounced off of a floaty and launched into the pool from the raisedledge of a top-tier sun deck like he’d been training not for wrestling, but for this. His arms flailed once before hte tucked, spun, and cannonballed into the pool with a splash so aggressive the it hit all of the girls like a fucking baptism in the south.

“AIDEN!” Kallie shrieked, tearing off her sunglasses.

Amelia sputtered. Her strawberry lemonade was now mostly chlorine and regret water. “Oh my God.”

But it wasn’t over.

Because a second pair of feet followed, screaming, “PARKOUR!” like it was an episode of the Office and Michael and Dwight were present here and now. Dickie Watson hit the metal railing from above, and with no regard for cruise etiquette, a inked out, shirtless, grinning, and dangerous gremlin of a man flipped over the rail in a reckless front dive, twisting like an Olympic hopeful straight into the chlorinated chaos.

Another wave of water. Another round of soaked towels.

“What in the everlovin’ fuck—” Kayla started, just as a third figure appeared above them—Finn Whelan, deadpan as always, but undeniably chasing after them. He didn’t dive. He had his  brace on his shoulder, and he had much more class than the others. He just stepped off the edge like a martyr, a soldier, or maybe just a man too tired to argue. A clean drop.

SPLASH.

By now, half the deck had turned to look. A small child clapped. Someone tried to get it on video. And Amelia, hair sticking to her cheek and bikini, now drenched, pulled off her sunglasses with two fingers and stared directly into the pool.

Aiden popped up first. “Ten outta fuckin’ ten!” he called to the crowd.

“Bullshit!” Dickie shouted back, his curls plastered to his forehead. “Mine had form.”

“Yours was deranged.”

Finn surfaced last, wiping water from his face with a sigh so heavy it may have created a new ripple. “I hate both of you.”

Amelia leaned over her knees and cupped her hands around her mouth like a proper coach. “You absolute menaces! This is a luxury liner!”

“Exactly!” Aiden shouted back. “What’s more luxurious than a fuckin’ cannonball?!”

“You’re gonna get us kicked off the boat!” Kayla snapped, flicking water off her book.

Dickie turned in the water to face Amelia, all mock-innocence. “You said you wanted me present.”

“Not submerged!”

“I’m still present!” he called back. “Just, you know. Hydrated.”

Amelia groaned, but her mouth twitched at the corners.

Aiden elbowed Dickie in the side, water sloshing around them. “You reckon they’ll kill us?”

“Probably.”

“Worth it?”

He glanced up again at Amelia. Her eyes were narrowed, but her lips were trying not to smile. Not to laugh at him. Not to be annoyed at the same time because she could still see his bruises and cuts. Even if they were yellowing. Even if they were almost gone.

Dickie smirked. “Every damn time.” His head emerged from the water as he pusehd it back. His eyes were brighter than the last time they truly looked at her. At Denver International, bruised and barbed, coiled like a wire about to snap. Now, he looked… lighter. Not healed. Not really. But like the edges weren’t as sharp. Like he’d taken that suitcase of pain he carried and set it somewhere behind him, just long enough to breathe.

“Hiya, Florence,” he smirked, pushing his arms up onto the ledge, water dripping down his forearms. “I lived. Disappointed?”

Kayla raised an eyebrow, and Kallie choked on her drink. She said nothing in response. Just looked up at him, frowning slightly.

“I didn’t tell you not to jump. I told you not to die.”

Dickie’s grin only widened. “I distinctly remember you telling me I could bleed on the boat.” He reached up and touched her ankle. “Not bleeding but you know…parkour.” He waited until Kallie got the hint to move away.

“You mad at me still?”

“I was never mad,” she replies. “I was scared. That’s different.”

Dickie’s eyes softened just a little. Enough that even Kayla notices. He shifts his elbows, leans closer to her. Still soaked. Still a menace.

“I came, didn’t I?”

She turned her head toward him fully. Her voice lowered.

“Are you here, Dimitri?”

That question landed deeper than anything else she’s said today. It wasn’t about the boat. Or the water. Or the laugh lines forming at the edge of her mouth.

It was about Denver. About scars. About a match that should’ve ended in a hospital. About words said in a car where pain sat between them like a third passenger.

Dickie doesn’t grin this time. He just nods.

“For you? Yeah. I’m here.” He smiled. “I’m here to watch you win. Here to watch you succeed, and cheer you on, and do all the things for you like I’m supposed to do. I am, by the by, the best boyfriend ever, because I could literally pay off an entire section of people to cheer for you.”

“Ew. Don’t do that.”

“No?”

“No.” She sighed. And then she knelt down. She ruffled his wet curls. “You look like a sheepdog.”

“Oh…those are fighting words.” He grinned. And before he she could move away, he launched up, grabbed her by the arm and dragged her into the pool.  He pulled her to him, and she smiled. “I’ve always got your back. Win. Or lose.”




ooc: the boards decided to let me sit behind the loading screen for a minute.
also. just changed font