The Morning After Climax Control
Featuring: Kevin Carter
The morning air was crisp, filtering in through the slightly cracked window of the small downtown coffee shop Lilith and Kevin had unofficially claimed as their spot. A few regulars milled about, the soft hum of indie rock playing in the background, blending with the gentle hiss of the espresso machine. Outside, the sun barely broke through the gray clouds, casting a pale light over the sidewalk. Lilith sat near the window, idly stirring her iced lavender latte with her straw. She wore dark sunglasses, despite being indoors, her hood pulled up over freshly washed hair. She hadn’t said much since they sat down. Kevin, across from her with his usual black coffee and blueberry muffin, leaned back in the chair with arms crossed, his jaw visibly tense. He hadn’t touched his drink yet.
“So…” he finally said, his voice low but edged, “you gonna tell me what that was last night?”
Lilith didn’t look up. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.”
Kevin scoffed, shaking his head. [color=green#67BF61]“Don’t do that. Don’t play dumb with me. You know exactly what I’m talking about Lilith. Bella. The handshake. The fake little smile. You acting like it didn’t take everything in you to not roll your eyes the whole time.”[/color] He grumbled. “That face like bullshit.”
Lilith sighed, leaning back in her chair and finally removing her sunglasses. Her eyes were tired but defiant. “It wasn’t fake. And I wasn’t acting.”
Kevin blinked. “Wait—what?”
“I shook her hand because she earned it,” she said, meeting his gaze. “I went to war with her out there, Kevin. She pushed me harder than I thought she could. And when it was over… I don’t know. It felt right.”
Kevin leaned in now, voice sharper. “Since when do you do what feels right? You’ve spent your whole career tearing people down and making sure no one forgets that you don’t give a damn about anyone but yourself. That’s the Lilith I know. That’s what the fans expect from you Lilith. The Unhinged and crazy one.”
She didn’t flinch. “Maybe I’m tired of being who everyone expects. Maybe I’m tired of being overlooked. SHE didn’t overlook me.”
Silence fell between them for a moment, broken only by the clang of a spoon hitting ceramic from a nearby table. Kevin stared at her, his brow furrowed in something between concern and confusion.
“Is this about trying to be liked now?” he asked, his tone softer. “Because… I get it if it is. But that’s not how you survive in this business. You start showing respect, shaking hands, playing the honorable vet—you lose your edge. That’s how people start seeing you as soft.”
Lilith let out a dry laugh. “You think shaking her hand made me soft?”
“I think it looked like the beginning of you going soft,” he said. “And yeah, it worries me. Because that’s not you.”
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “No. What worries you is that I’m making decisions without you. That I didn’t ask you what to do or how to act or whether I should show Bella a shred of respect after we nearly killed each other out there.”
Kevin recoiled slightly. “That’s not what this is about.”
“Isn’t it?” she challenged. “You’re always talking about loyalty, about keeping our image strong, but the truth is… I’m not your image. I’m mine. And if I decide to show someone a little respect—just once—it doesn’t make me weak. It makes me layered. Complicated. Real.”
Kevin looked away for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “You’ve never cared about being real before.”
“Maybe I’m allowed to change,” she said quietly. “Maybe I’m growing. You should try it sometime.”
The silence that followed was heavier than before, but it wasn’t hostile. It was thoughtful. Kevin’s hand slowly reached for his coffee, fingers drumming against the side of the cup.
“You still don’t like her, right?” he asked, eyes narrowing slightly.
Lilith smirked. “Not even a little. It’s just respect.”
Kevin cracked a smile. “Okay. I can live with that.”
She leaned back again, sipping her latte. “Good. Because next time I see her? That handshake is off the table. I was agreeing with her about Mercedes. It doesn’t change the fact that I plan on walking out with the gold at Summer XXXtreme.”
Kevin lifted his cup in a mock toast. “Now that’s the Lilith I know.”
Lilith raised her brow. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just keeping you guessing.”
That belt is mine
The air was still, heavy with silence, save for the soft creak of an old wooden chair beneath her. Lilith sat alone, hunched forward slightly, forearms resting on her thighs, long hair curtaining her face like a veil. The light above flickered once, but she didn’t react. There was no camera crew, no director barking orders, no arena noise to drown her out—just her voice, low and coiled with purpose, ready to strike.
“You ever notice how people talk about pressure like it’s some tragic affliction?” she muttered, mostly to herself, but with just enough edge to suggest she wanted to be heard. “Like it’s some weight that’s gonna crush them if they don’t cry loud enough for sympathy.” Her lip curled, eyes narrowing as she leaned back against the wall, staring at the empty space in front of her as if someone was standing there, listening. “People forget pressure makes diamonds. And bombs.”
A beat passed, long enough for her to pull a cigarette from her jacket pocket. She didn’t light it. Just rolled it between her fingers as if that alone grounded her. “I’m both.”
She sat like that for a while, letting the words hang in the air. Then she exhaled a humorless chuckle. “I’ve been quiet lately. Not gone. Not dead. Just... waiting. Letting everyone else scream into the void, hoping someone notices them before the lights go out. And now?” She glanced sideways, almost smiling. Almost. “Now it’s my turn.”
Her fingers tapped a rhythm against her knee, impatient, like a song only she knew. “So we’ve got Bella Madison. And Mercedes Vargas.” Her tone shifted—Bella’s name spoken with the barest flicker of warmth, Mercedes’ spat like poison. “What a beautiful little pairing of contrasts. Like a sunbeam and a rotting corpse.”
Lilith tilted her head, finally looking directly ahead, her expression tightening. “Let’s get one thing straight right now. You don’t know me. You think you do. You’ve seen me grin while I twist people into shapes they weren’t meant to survive in, and you think that’s the whole story. But you’ve barely scraped the surface.”
She tossed the cigarette to the floor, untouched. “I’m not a gatekeeper. I’m not a villain. I’m not your final boss or your little morality test. I’m not here to teach you anything.” Her voice dropped. “I’m a consequence. And consequences don’t give warnings.”
She stood now, pacing slowly, arms folded, head tilted as if deep in thought. “Bella Madison. I respect you. There, I said it. You earned that, every second of it. You fought, and you bled, and you got up when most would’ve stayed down. I see you. I respect you. But don’t you dare think that means I’m gonna go easy on you.”
Her eyes flared with something sharp and primal. “Because I’ve suffered too long. Fought too hard. Died and came back too many times to hand over anything to anyone. Especially not to someone who still believes this place runs on heart. You want to beat me? You better be ready to rip that respect right out of my hands. Because I’m not giving it away, and I’m sure as hell not going down easy.”
She stopped pacing and let out a slow breath. That respect, real as it was, had limits. Limits that Bella was about to learn the hard way.
“And then there’s her,” Lilith growled, venom practically dripping from her lips. “Mercedes Vargas.”
Her posture shifted, stiffening, hands clenching at her sides. Every trace of amusement or nuance drained from her face. “If there’s a bottom-feeder in this industry, it’s her. Living off borrowed time and stolen legacies. Clinging to relevance like a parasite sucking blood from a host that forgot she was ever even there.”
She sneered. “You’re not a legend, Mercedes. You’re a leftover. A has-been who never really was. You’re what happens when someone mistakes tenure for greatness. All that time, and nothing to show for it but bitterness and cheap shots.”
Lilith’s voice cracked slightly—not with weakness, but with the weight of hatred that had been festering too long.“You made this personal. Years of slander. Of smug little side-eyes and petty digs and passive-aggressive jabs. You thought I wouldn’t remember? I do. I remember everything. And now you get to pay for it.”
Her hands spread slightly as if welcoming the chaos she knew was coming. “You’re not walking into a wrestling match, Mercedes. You’re walking into a damn reckoning. And when I’m done with you, you won’t be able to leech off this industry anymore. There won’t be any nostalgia to cling to. No fans chanting your name out of pity. Just silence. Just me standing over you, wondering if maybe I should’ve hit you harder.”
She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice was colder. “I’m not coming for the win. I’m coming for the scars. The memories. I want your screams echoing long after the show’s over.”
Another silence, this one heavier than before. Lilith stepped closer to the imaginary camera, her face calm but her eyes wild. “Bella, I’ll fight you. I’ll push you further than anyone ever has. I’ll make you question everything you believe in. And maybe—maybe—if you’re still standing when it’s over, I’ll shake your hand again.”
Her voice lowered to a whisper now. “But Mercedes? I want you crawling. I want you begging. I want you broken. I want you bleeding.”
Lilith didn’t leave the room. She just walked a few steps, letting the weight of her boots echo across the floor. Her hands shook—not with fear, but with anticipation. With desire. There was a storm inside her, and it was growing more violent by the second. Her breathing was uneven now, not from exhaustion, but restraint. Because there was still so much more to say.
“I’ve never been the hero. Never been the woman you write bedtime stories about. And I’m not about to start pretending to be now just because people suddenly want to call me ‘legacy’ like it’s a compliment. Like I’m some elder stateswoman they can trot out for nostalgia points.”
She turned around sharply, eyes narrowing into the lens. “I’m not your legacy act. I’m not here to pass the torch. If you want the fire, you’re gonna have to burn with me.”
She grabbed a chair and kicked it over without warning, sending it skidding across the floor with a violent clang. “Bella, you’ve got guts. You’ve got heart. But you’ve also got something worse than fear: hope. And that makes you vulnerable. That makes you breakable. And I don’t want to break you, Bella. Not because I care about you—but because I want you to stay whole long enough to realize how badly you lost.”
She paced again, this time faster. Frenzied energy began to creep in as her voice raised. “You want it so bad, don’t you? To prove to the world you belong. That you’re not just a name carrying momentum, that you’re not living in the shadow of anything. But you’re not getting that proof from me. Not without pain. Not without war. And maybe not even then.”
Her gaze dropped, and her fingers flexed, like claws itching to be used. “You’re going to walk into that ring thinking this is your moment. And I’m going to make sure it’s the moment that ruins you. I’m going to take all that faith you have—in yourself, in this business, in the idea of fairness—and I’m going to grind it into dust beneath my boot.”
She paused to lean against the wall, chest rising and falling rapidly. Her lips parted slightly, as if the fury was catching up to her. “And Mercedes… God, Mercedes. The truth is, I’ve been waiting to get my hands on you for years. You don’t get to call yourself a queen when all you’ve ever ruled is the wasteland you helped create.”
Her voice trembled with rage now. “I’ve watched you slither through locker rooms, poison every well, turn everything into some twisted competition that no one else agreed to be part of. You’re not a competitor. You’re a saboteur. You survive by dragging everyone else down into the pit with you, because you’ve long since forgotten how to rise.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, and when they opened again, they were almost wet. Not with sadness. With fury. With something primal. “You talk about legacy like it’s yours by default. Like time alone earns you respect. But all the time in the world won’t fix the rot, Mercedes. And I’m done watching you infect everything I care about.”
She pushed off the wall and pointed toward the darkness as if Mercedes was standing there in the flesh. “I want to hurt you. Not just beat you. Not just outsmart or outfight you. I want you to wake up every day for the rest of your life and remember that I took something from you. That I carved my name into your ribs and you couldn’t do a damn thing about it.”
Her voice dropped again, almost eerily calm. “I want you to suffer, Mercedes. Because that’s the only thing you’ve ever given anyone else. It’s fitting. Poetic. And long overdue.”
She took another slow breath, long and deep, holding it until her shoulders settled, and her voice came out a near whisper. “There’s no redemption here. No handshake. No grace. This ends with one of us dragging what’s left of the other back into the dark. And I don’t plan on being the one left behind.”
Lilith stayed there, unmoving. Breathing. Listening to the silence like it whispered her name. Her lips parted, and her tongue pressed against the back of her teeth as if to taste the next words before she gave them shape.
“I’ve spent nights staring at the ceiling… replaying every second I ever gave to people who didn’t deserve me. Every match. Every promo. Every handshake I forced myself to give to keep the peace in a warzone that never wanted peace to begin with.” Her fingers curled into fists. “And your name, Mercedes… it always came up first.”
A low laugh escaped her throat. No humor. No joy. Just something jagged and broken. “You’re the kind of woman who walks into a burning building and blames the ashes for being dirty. You’ve built nothing. You’ve preserved nothing. You’ve only taken. Credit. Oxygen. Spotlight. Everything.”
Lilith stepped forward again, voice rising—not in volume, but intensity. “You think time is your friend. That because you’ve been here, that means you matter. That you’re untouchable. But time is a liar, Mercedes. Time is a thief. And I’m the blade waiting in its shadow.”
She tilted her head slowly, like she was studying the idea of it. “It would be easy to just beat you. To pin you clean and leave you humiliated. But I don’t want that. That’s mercy. You don’t deserve mercy. You deserve fear. The kind that creeps in when the arena goes dark, and you wonder if maybe—just maybe—I’m still there. Waiting. Breathing behind the curtain. Watching you.”
Lilith ran a hand through her hair, pushing it back from her face, revealing the wide, dangerous eyes of a woman who had nothing left to prove—but everything left to destroy. “You’re going to learn what happens when someone finally stops playing by the rules you bent. You’re going to learn what it feels like when someone doesn’t care about your name, your years, your stats… only your screams.”
The rage started to fold in on itself now, becoming something else—something colder. Lilith leaned against the concrete wall, tapping her fingernails against it, letting the small noise carry. “And Bella…”
Her tone shifted again—gentler, but not soft. Never soft. “You… confuse me.” She let that confession hang there, uncomfortable and raw. “I see you and I think, ‘She could be the one.’ The one who doesn’t lose herself. The one who doesn’t rot from the inside out when this business finally sinks its claws in deep enough to scar her.” She looked up, voice caught between respect and sorrow. “But then I remember… this place doesn’t allow survivors. Not without a cost.”
Lilith stood upright again, shoulders rolling, neck cracking as she shifted the weight of everything she carried. “I want to believe in you, Bella. I do. But belief is a luxury I had beaten out of me a long time ago. And in that ring, I won’t hold onto that belief. I’ll try to drown it. Smother it. Because that’s the only way I know how to survive now.”
Her jaw clenched. “And if you still manage to crawl out of that wreckage with your pride intact? Then maybe… maybe I’ll look you in the eye when it’s over. Maybe I’ll call you more than just another name.”
Her voice dropped again—dead calm. “But don’t misunderstand me. I’m not fighting for you. I’m not fighting to test you. I’m fighting because I have to. Because the only thing that makes me feel real anymore is the sound of bodies breaking under mine. I need this. I need it the way addicts need breath and priests need forgiveness.”
She looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers like they weren’t hers. “This is all I have. And I’ll set fire to both of you to make sure I keep it.” A long silence followed. Lilith didn’t move. Just let her words rot in the air like smoke. Then something shifted. A smile—not wide, not crazed, but knowing—curled at the edge of her lips. It was the smile of someone who had already made peace with the monster in the mirror.
“You know what no one ever tells you?” she asked, barely above a whisper. “The moment before a match… the exact moment… right before your music hits and you walk through the curtain… there’s this pause. This breathless little second where time freezes. Where anything can happen. You can win. You can lose. You can die.”
Her eyes gleamed. “And in that second? I feel alive. That second belongs to me. That’s the part you can’t train for. You can’t fake it. And neither of you know what to do with it. But me?” She tapped her chest once. “I live there.” She backed away from the wall now, movements slower, deliberate. Her voice dropped again—lower than before, nearly inaudible except for the rage that coated every word.
“So come get it. Come take your shot. Hope, heart, history—bring it all. Drag it with you like it’s going to protect you. Let the fans scream your names like prayers. Let the lights shine like halos. Because the second that bell rings, I stop being a woman. I become punishment.”
She stepped into the dim center of the room, where the only light flickered above her like a dying heartbeat.
“I’ll paint the canvas with your legacy, Mercedes. I’ll smother you with the weight of everything you should have let go of ten years ago. And I’ll tear through you, Bella, not because I want to—but because I have to prove that no one is safe. Not even the ones I respect.”
She tilted her head again, voice now so soft it felt almost like a lullaby. “This isn’t a triple threat. This is a ritual. A bloodletting. And I’m not walking out empty-handed. I’m walking out with your fear. Your silence. Your shattered sense of control.”
Her eyes closed. Just for a moment. “Because chaos doesn’t choose favorites. And neither do I.”
The room fell into silence again. Not peace. Never peace. Just the quiet that came after something primal finished speaking through her. Lilith exhaled slowly, cracking her knuckles, letting the rage settle like dust. She didn’t need to scream. She didn’t need fireworks or metaphors. Not anymore. She had bled all the poison out, word by word, and now there was only resolve.
Only the certainty that someone was going to suffer—and it wasn’t going to be her.
Face to Face and Heart to Heart
Featuring: Bella Madison
Two hours later, the arena was dim and nearly empty. Echoes of earlier matches still clung to the air like ghost smoke. Lilith stood alone in the center of the ring, arms crossed, head down, the faint buzz of the fluorescent lights casting her shadow in long, broken lines across the canvas. A door opened somewhere backstage. Footsteps. Soft. Controlled.
Bella.
She didn’t say anything at first. Just stood at the edge of the ramp, arms folded, face unreadable. She was out of her ring gear now—jeans, a loose flannel shirt, hair pulled back.
“You don’t have to be here,” she said at last.
“I am here,” Lilith replied, not turning.
“Because of me?”
“No. Because of me,” Lilith echoed. “This place feels different now. I had to stand in the middle of it again. Without noise. Without chants. Just… truth.”
Bella stepped closer, cautiously, like approaching a wounded animal. “You shook my hand.”
“I know.” Lilith nodded her head.
“You didn’t have to.” Bella looked at her calmly.
There was a shrug from Lilith. “I know.”
Bella let the silence fall again. “You scared me,” she admitted quietly.
Lilith turned now, eyes sharp. “Good.”
“But not in the way you used to,” Bella continued. “Not the chair throwing, table smashing, voice in your face scary. You scared me because for the first time… I believed you were actually you. Not the version for the cameras.”
Lilith didn’t blink. “Then don’t get comfortable. That version of me is still in here. She just has new teeth.”
Bella nodded once, slowly. “I’ll be ready.”
Lilith smirked. “I hope so. Because next time? I’m not interested in handshakes.”
Bella’s expression shifted, lips curling slightly. “Neither am I.”
They locked eyes for a long moment—neither hostile nor friendly. Something deeper. Respect twisted with the scent of blood still drying in the corners of the ring. Lilith turned and climbed out of the ring, boots hitting the floor with a hollow thud. She didn’t look back.
Coffee and Text messages
Featuring: Kevin Carter
Later that night, Kevin sat alone in the same coffee shop. The indie rock still played, quieter now, almost like a whisper. He stared out the window, steam curling up from his fresh cup. The sky was ink-black now. The rain had stopped.
His phone buzzed.
Lilith: Told Bella she was right about Mercedes.
Another buzz.
Lilith: But I’m still taking her head off next time.
Kevin chuckled to himself, shaking his head.
“Undeniable,” he murmured. “God help us all.”
