Post by Deleted on Jul 16, 2021 4:40:32 GMT -5
A silver-haired girl stares at the reflection in a mirror.
The reflection stares back at her.
Neither one of them feels like that they're the same.
- Prologue -
December 31st, 2019 -
Her glowing mako emerald eyes scanned every inch of the image before her; from the deep empty wells at the center to the random hitchmark scars along her jawline. 'Who is she?' they wondered. 'What did she go through?' They asked themselves.
They both pulled their hair back along the left sides of their heads and scanned where the surgeons hid all their attempts to put her back again. They noticed white wristbands with the strings of little black symbols that, to her, might as well have been hieroglyphics. They notice IV catheter tubes taped to their hands where they penetrate their curiously ink-stained alabaster skins.
The bags under their eyes dispel any rumor that absconding into comas like they had was in any way meant to be their version of a restful vacation. But they weren't aware that that's what it was... well, not at that present time. Nothing quite made sense to them, and neither of them realized that the other was also suffering from the same blurry vision caused by the same splitting migraine that they both didn't know that they shared.
But things came into focus the moment when two sets of perfectly dainty fingertips reached out and grabbed the edges of the dusty, oil-smudged glass between them. What once felt to them like two realities catching a simultaneous glimpse at one another was revealed to be an illusion that shattered like the bone beneath the plates in the jagged, sewn spot where their hair would never grow again.
They gasp as they both realize at the exact same time. Their lips and throats struggle to give sound to the meaning, but more importantly they both simultaneously recognize the feeling.
'That's me' they realize in their jumbled minds, but without a single word between them.
Nurses burst into the room as if it's an emergency. The girl saw the second and third new faces in the reflection on the glass just as she did the first. They met the green-eyed, silver-haired patient in the hospital gown and placed comforting hands on her shoulders. They guided her back to her bed, coaxing her with physical cues to lie back down where she came from.
"This is the third time we've caught her out of bed like this," the one nurse said as she reattached the IV line to the cath tube. "I don't think the sedative's working."
"That or the dose is too low." said the other.
The girl looked up at them innocently. They might as well have been the aliens in a cheesy sci-fi abduction scene. She had no problem hearing the sounds coming from their mouths, but they might as well have been speaking in tongues.
"What do you think we should do? Raise it?"
"Nah. We're at the limit already." The one nurse shook her head. "Give her any more and you run the risk of... well..."
She looks down at the patient with her hands clasped and wringing. "Sweetie, I'm going to go call your doctor, alright? We'll see what we can do. You just... try to relax. Okay?"
But the silver-haired girl blinked back. She appeared quizzical if not for her gaze somehow also appearing blank. All of a sudden It didn't feel so bad to talk about her like she wasn't there in the room with them. Perhaps the patient wasn't. The nurse had forgotten that the patient had been reduced; little more than a scant-less-than-empty shell.
The new patient had been in hospice for a little over a week now. She had not yet realized the crux of what brought her here. It would be days later before she'd even realize that this wasn't her first time pulling herself up out of bed. Standing on her own two feet. Yanking on the IV line. Dragging her punished body in the direction of the bathroom.
The second nurse did what he had done twice before. A few little beeps signified his pressing of the buttons on the IV machine. Carefully measured sedatives and pain-killers dripped from the machine down into her line, and soon enough she'd be left to sleep once more.
Except this time, the girl startled them. Instead of drifting back off into the relative peace of suspended existence, she clutched the left side of her head, and screamed in agony.
"What did you do?!" The first nurse shoved the second away from the machine.
"N-nothing! I didn't touch a thing!"
- Intro -
In this hole that is me
The dead are rolling over
In this hole thickening
Dirt shoveled over shoulders
The small crowd cheers as the two share a kiss. They climb into a vintage black Corvette. The car drives off toward the horizon.
I feel it in me
So overwhelmed
Oh, this pressured center rising
The passage of time displayed the wrinkles that form on same two hands, still clasped together. It's years later now as CJ's other hand covers his mouth. Tears blink out and roll down Lucy's cheeks as a man in a white lab coat points to a splotch on an x-ray. She looks over at her husband as a cold chill races down the length of his spine. She asks the doctor what the treatment options are. Oh, this pressured center rising
The doctor shakes his head.
My life overturned
Unfair the despair
Unfair the despair
All these scars keep ripping open
Lucy clamped her hand down tighter on CJ's, refusing to let go.
Peel me from the skin
Tear me from the rind
Does it make you happy now?
Tear meat from the bone
Tear me from myself
Does it make you happy now?
Weeks pass and CJ finds himself on the couch in the living room of his old farmhouse. The property's out in the middle of nowhere and he bought it outright. Lucy and CJ were once planning on raising a child together in privacy once they decided to retire.
Now, a call girl crawls overtop of him.
Lucy walked in. Against her better judgment, she decides against murdering the two of them on the spot. She pulls her wedding rings off of her finger and hurls them to the ground. The door behind her slams.
CJ's heart breaks, but he's also relieved. He passes cash along to the call girl and sends her off.
He may now die alone.
In this hole that is me
A life that's growing feeble
In this hole so limiting
The sun has set, all darkens
Tears once more streamed down the crevices of Lucy's cheeks. She's glancing up at a TV screen.
It's been a while, but right up there on the picture, CJ Wylde's somehow back in the ring, in a place not too dissimilar to where she first met him. He had lost a lot of weight since the day she stormed out.
She can see that He's doing better now thanks to the plethora of drugs in his system. Whether he actually is or not is both debatable and irrelevant.
Neither option makes the pain feel any more bearable.
She can see that He's doing better now thanks to the plethora of drugs in his system. Whether he actually is or not is both debatable and irrelevant.
Neither option makes the pain feel any more bearable.
Buried underneath
Hands slip off the wheel
Internal pathway to contention
Hands slip off the wheel
Internal pathway to contention
A part of her wants to be happy when she finds out that he was misdiagnosed. A part of her never wanted to give up hope after the first doctor muttered the dreaded c-word to them.
But seeing him again like this tore her asunder.
It shattered what was left of her soul.
Peel me from the skin
Tear me from the rind
Does it make you happy now?
Tear meat from the bone
Tear me from myself
Are you feeling happy now?
Tear meat from the bone
Tear me from myself
Are you feeling happy now?
Flashes. A woman in a haunting mask stalking CJ Wylde for weeks.
Every OWF Addiction, there she is. CJ starts to feel like he can't breathe again.
She stalks, and stalks, and stalks, and stalks. Finally, she calls her shot. She drives CJ down to the mat, rendering him as helpless as he made her feel.
In this hole that is me
Left with a heart exhausted
Left with a heart exhausted
The masked woman, an entity that goes by the moniker "Jenova" peels back the mask to reveal an old face... one she knew he'd recognize.
But that's clearly not her true identity anymore.
She had revealed that the moment she first put on the mask.
What's my release?
What sets me free?
Do you pull me up just to push me down again?
Years have passed once more. CJ's in the ring again. He's slimmer yet, even the experimental medications for his actual medical condition are starting to prove far less effective as his body adapts and the disease progresses.
He knows his time is limited.
There's a UGWC logo on the center of the canvas. The words Outlast are written along the ring apron. The year is 2017.
This is his last shot he says to himself as he pushes through the pain to make a tag. For personal glory, it's now or it's never again.
This is his last shot he says to himself as he pushes through the pain to make a tag. For personal glory, it's now or it's never again.
The referee raises CJ's hand in victory, and the crowd around him roars. But all is soon to be muffled as he is attacked from behind after the final bell.
A man by the name of Ichabod drags him up to the top rope, and delivers a Euphoria down through an awaiting table on the ringside ground below.
Within the wreckage that followed, CJ never moved.
He's quickly swarmed by UGWC officials who immediately throw up 'X' signs with their arms.
Peel me from the skin
Tear me from the rind
Does it make you happy now?
A year passes. What's left of CJ Wylde lies motionless in a hospital bed, kept alive with the aid of machines. He glances upward at a tv screen. It's UGWC again.
There's talking heads on the screen. Massive Melee is set to happen soon, and there's rumors that it might go off without their World Champion. They're explaining how, a week before, Dr. Gabriel Baal plunged a syringe into the neck of Lucy Wylde. This week, she's nowhere to be found.
CJ curls his fingertips on his right hand, as close as he can get to making a fist.
His anger boils over into a full-fledged coughing fit, and his nurse runs in to help.
Tear meat from the bone
Tear me from myself
Are you feeling happy now?
More weeks pass. More of the same.
CJ dwindles as he watches UGWC and Carnage Wrestling methodically, focusing always on the same thing.
He watches helplessly as Kyra Johnson, Lucy's sister, tries to trap his ex-wife's neck under a ten-ton steel cage structure as it's being lowered down around the ring. He watches again as Mia Rayne wraps a golf club around that same injured neck. It seems like no one's out there to help Lucy out; and even worse, he watches Lucy fail to attempt to save herself.
He coughs again. The nurse comes running again.
He chokes on the irony that he knew he caused.
He chokes on the irony that he knew he caused.
Does it make you happy?
Are you feeling happy?
Are you fucking happy?
Now that I'm lost, left with nothing
CJ asks to see the box, a wooden box that he placed in the closet of his bedroom a long, long time ago.
The nurse brings it to him. CJ asks him to open it.
The nurse does as he is told.
The nurse pulls out the items that CJ had kept stored away for far too long.
The nurse does as he is told.
The nurse pulls out the items that CJ had kept stored away for far too long.
A mask.
And a set of black wedding bands.
Does it make you happy?
Are you feeling happy?
Are you fucking happy?
Now that I'm lost, left with nothing
Are you fucking happy?
Now that I'm lost, left with nothing
The intro fades out on a silver-haired girl answering a ringing doorbell.
She opens up the door to find a package sitting on the doorstep. A Federal Express truck pulls away in the distance.
She scans the package that she wasn't expecting. If she's reading it correctly, which she thinks she does, then the postage says that it's from a Mr. Charles "CJ" Wylde.
It says that the package is intended for one Magdalena Marie Lockheart.
The name strikes her as familiar.
Inside the package she finds a small wooden box, and a note.
What she finds inside peers back at her...
Inside the package she finds a small wooden box, and a note.
What she finds inside peers back at her...
::: 6/10 Studios Presents :::
MML.2021.013/J - The Calamity from Disguise
- Vignette Day -
7:31 PM
"Sorry I'm late-"
Roxy perked up when she heard the door to the studio. She'd have been more excited to see her if she weren't already pissed off at her.
The sun was already starting to set outside when Roxy popped her head up from the table. She turned the corner of her eye toward her final interviewee for the day. "So kind of you to finally join us," she muttered. "Ready to get this show on the road? Because I sure-"
But as she locked eyes with this last 'Open' competitor, Roxy's disdain dissolved.
The final interview of the day was with a woman who was roughly her size. Nothing about her outward appearance screamed dangerous; in fact, without knowing her you'd hardly think that she would be opposing at all. Her long silver hair was pulled back, and mirrored aviator sunglasses worked as a makeshift barrette to hold it in place.
She limped forward with the aid of a crutch tucked under her right arm. Her left eye had a shiner and there were various sizes of bandages and gauze taped all up and down her otherwise heavily tattooed arms. She carried along with her two championship belts, one on each shoulder.
"I'm ready when you are."
The last interviewee set her crutch to the side and carefully lowered herself onto the seat of the steel folding chair.
Roxy cleared her throat. "So, uhh, you don't look like you're feeling too well. Let's make this brief then, alright? Miss Lockheart, all I really need is a little snippet of you telling me why you're going to win the WrestleStock Open tournament this year. Then we can all go back to our hotels for the evening."
Maggie glanced over at Roxy with a smile.
"I am?" Maggie chuckled. "Honestly - I kinda came here to tell you that I wasn't... but whatever. It's your interview, not mine."
"Really?" Malone's jaw dropped.
Lockheart nodded her head.
"Excuse me, but... after the day that I've had, I have to ask: Why exactly the f- not?"
Maggie blinked in the direction of Roxy. She shrugged her shoulders.
Roxy sighed. "So you mean to tell me that Magdalena Lockheart has come all the way here just to tell me that she is going to lose the WrestleStock Open tournament this year?"
"Mmm. Well... if you really want to know why..."
"Really?" Malone's jaw dropped.
Lockheart nodded her head.
"Excuse me, but... after the day that I've had, I have to ask: Why exactly the f- not?"
Maggie blinked in the direction of Roxy. She shrugged her shoulders.
Roxy sighed. "So you mean to tell me that Magdalena Lockheart has come all the way here just to tell me that she is going to lose the WrestleStock Open tournament this year?"
"Mmm. Well... if you really want to know why..."
- One Week Ago -
"Long time no see."
Magdalena Marie Lockheart appeared calm, but she was always a performer. She sat and watched through her mirror-finish aviator sunglasses as the one and only Lucy Wylde approached her on the front steps of her former home.
As the story went, Maggie's name was on the deed now. Whether or not that was fate or simply an unusual set of circumstances remains filed under 'yet-to-be-determined'. But this historic plantation-style mini-mansion tucked away in the surrounding woods was centuries old and boasted of a deeper and more vibrant history than most would realize simply by looking at it in its current, more run down form.
The house itself had belonged to the Wylde family as far back as early aughts.
Lucy paced forward with a cautious anxiety that permeated the humid summer western Maryland air. Out here there were no convenience stores or gas stations for miles; emergency calls might fetch an ambulance or the police there within a half-hour depending on how well the reception on one's cell phone cooperated in that moment of need.
Seeing her ex Maggie again after going their separate ways wasn't quite the issue, though. Instead, it was this place and how her now deceased ex-husband that dredged all sorts of memories from all along the emotional spectrum.
Standing on the grounds once more felt as surreal and as disorienting as standing in a funhouse where the walls and floors are purposefully misshapen and uncomfortably tilted.
Maggie was dressed in accordance with the season, tight shirt, cut-off jean shorts. In her hand was nestled a chilled martini glass filled to the brim with green slurry. She had salt on the rim and an orange slice to top off what she had dubbed the 'Margarita Lockheart' special.
As Lucy closed the gap between them, she could see that what was left of Maggie's exposed skin was also covered in bandages.
"Wow, you really look like shit."
Maggie chuckled. "Thanks," she said with a sip of her drink. "It's nice to see you too, Lucy. Hold on, let me think of a worse compliment."
The former Mrs. Wylde scoffed.
"You know what I meant."
"Yeah," The corners of Lockheart's painted lips upturned, "I think I look pretty good, all things considered."
"What the hell happened?"
"Oh, nothing. Fifteen foot high fall from a scaffold into a literal pool of barbed wire. Or as we in Level Up like to call it... a typical Tuesday."
"So, you lost, hmm?" Lucy said with an air of concern in her voice. She approached the steps with carefully measured footfalls until she was a comfortable distance away from her ex-protege. "Nothing to be disappointed about, you had a great run."
"Oh no, I still won." Maggie said, beaming to tell the news. "You should see the other guy."
"Oh really?"
"Yeah, I'll tell you what. I got 'Berted' all to hell and back again. That much I'll give the wily little prick. But these guys really don't know what they're messing with when they invoke the wrath of Jenova... right?"
The name. The memories. Lucy was taken aback by the mere mention and the look in Magdalena's eyes was enough to make her regret coming back to the Wylde family residence altogether.
"Maggie," Lucy gathered her thoughts and replied with poise, though she was unnerved. "You know that the mask doesn't mean anything, right? Everything that you've accomplished... that's all you-"
Maggie winced as she struggled to pull herself up by the hand rail.
"Of all the people... I thought you would understand the most... ugh..."
"Here let me help you."
Lucy reached out for Maggie's arm, but Maggie pulled away.
"Fine." Lucy scoffed.
"I got this, I can do it on my own," Maggie assured her as she worked herself upright. "It's my fault that I'm in the condition I'm in, so, I might as well suffer through it the same as everyone else."
“You’re right. My bad.” Lucy replied, shaking your head. “I forgot you don’t like help.”
"It's not that I don't like help," Maggie corrected her. "I... do not like to impose."
Lucy threw her hands down onto her hips.
"Oh really? Is that what this is now?"
"Look, I appreciate you coming out here and all. I really do. I know you've got a lot on your plate right now but I am trying to help myself here. And who knows? Maybe what I have to propose might even help you out a little, too. That part is entirely up to you."
“Okay..” She began, a look of suspicion on her face. “Whaddaya got?”
Maggie turned and made her way up the stairs. It wasn't immediately clear if it was the old wood that was creaking or if that was her body, still aching from the torture she put herself through in Dead by Daylight's Blood Web match. She motioned for Lucy to follow her.
"How about you step in my office and we'll discuss it?" Maggie moved like an old woman about to break her hip if she wasn't careful. "I know you at least want to know why I signed up for the WrestleStock Open."
Lucy nodded her head as she followed Maggie up the stairs and towards the front door of the place she once called home. “Among other things…”
* * *
"Why did you sign up for the WrestleStock Open?" Roxy Malone asked as she gnawed on the clicker to her pen. "Doesn't make sense if you ask me."
The UGWC backdrop framing her, Maggie glanced over at the camera and replied.
"What about it doesn't make sense to you, Miss Malone?"
Once more Roxy was taken aback. She had been doing these interviews all day, and this was the first time she could remember one of the fighters asking her a question.
"You're the Level Up Final Boss champion, Maggie. May I call you Maggie?"
"Sure."
"No offense Maggie, but, you've clearly been through heck. I mean, If Level Up wanted to have someone represent them in the Open, fine. But you're like their golden goose. They could've sent a-"
"A Brandon Hendrix?" Maggie replied.
"Sure!" Roxy chuckled. "Send your wack job 'Messiah' guy or whatever. If something happens to him, oh well, who cares, right?"
Maggie smiled.
"That is assuming that Level Up sent me to the tournament. As I was just about to tell Lucy, I signed up for this myself."
"But why though?"
* * *
Maggie held the front door open for Lucy Wylde to do something she hadn't done in years. Step foot into her old home.
Once inside, there was a foyer that led straight out into the main hallway. A grand wooden staircase rose up to the second floor. It had been years since Lucy saw it but not much had changed, really. The house itself was in such disrepair that all of the work that Lockheart had put into it in the past few months only made the slightest of dents.
Lucy was still taken aback by the moment. The gravity inside shifted for her as if something unseen was dragging her towards the floor. Just the sensation of the old wood grain of the banister between her fingertips was enough to send the butterflies in her stomach into a tizzy.
Maggie once more sipped from her margarita glass as she shuffled down the hallway towards the grand kitchen/dining room area.
"You still coming or...?"
"Yeah," Lucy's voice trailed off and was breathy. "I'm right behind you."
She had to rip her fingers away from the railing and force her feet to cooperate to go where Maggie intended on leading her.
As she passed it, she noticed that the door was closed to CJ's old study room and upon looking up realized that Maggie was quite curious as to how she would react to passing that room.
"Come on," she said, "Morrie's whipping up a little breakfast for us. There's also coffee. You want coffee?"
"Morrie?" Lucy asked.
"Oh yeah, you haven't met him yet, have you?" Maggie motioned her to come on. "You're gonna like him. He's a pretty neat guy. Used to be a field nurse back in like... World War II or whatever."
"Hey!" A man's voice echoed from the kitchen area. "I ain't that old... yet!"
"Pssh." Maggie grinned as Lucy made her way down the hall. "Whatever, like I can be expected to keep up with it all anymore."
Maggie led the way through the threshold and stood off to the side as she revealed a salt-and-pepper haired gentleman in a cotton-polo pullover and khakis that at first glance matched perfectly with bleach-white Reebok flat-footed tennis shoes. The guy appeared to be in his mid-to-late forties, or perhaps early fifties, with a slim but toned build.
"Lucy, I'd like for you to meet Gary Morrison. And Morrie, I'd like for you to meet-"
"Is this her? Oh my goodness, it is." Morrie dropped his spatula on the marble countertop and wiped off his hands on a hand towel. "You're Lucy Wylde. CJ's wife. It's an honor and a privilege, truly."
As if she wasn't affected enough, the reverence Morrie had shown her had Lucy taken aback. Morrie held out his hand and Lucy shook it.
"You know me?"
"Well how could I not?" Morrie assured her. "You were all CJ talked about. I've seen your face thousands of times. In pictures. On TV..."
"Stop it Morrie, you're being a creep." Maggie nudged him in the arm with her elbow. "Lucy's only stopping by because I threatened to go back to UGWC."
“Hah.. Yeah.” Lucy replied with a half-hearted chuckle as she struggled to take in the words of a man she’d just met, which she didn't feel were creepy at all. "It's nice to meet you too, Mister Morrison."
Lucy happened to glance over to the kitchen island where there were about a dozen prescription pill bottles all lined up in a row.
"Oh no, please, call me Morrie." He smiled at Lucy. "All of my friends do."
"Were you and CJ... friends?"
"Oh yes of cour-"
Maggie slammed back the rest of her margarita as well as the glass down on the kitchen island itself.
"Yeah, yeah... they'll be plenty of time for you two to catch up later," Maggie said as she took Lucy by the hand. She led her over to the dining room table where she pretty much forced her to take a seat. Maggie plopped herself down in the chair directly across from her.
"What the hell Mags? Rude." Lucy scoffed.
"Guilty." Maggie smirked, half-buzzed from her morning drink. "But I'm just too fucking excited. I cannot wait to tell you-"
"Tell me what, exactly?"
"To tell you that I've finally made a decision," Maggie said with her arms spread wide. "I've thought about it... I've talked about it... and now I'm confident about it... I want to give your home back to you."
* * *
"So let me get this straight," Roxy Malone said as she jotted notes down on her little notepad. "You've been the owner of CJ Wylde's house ever since CJ died, correct?"
Maggie nodded her head.
"...and it's the same house that CJ and Lucy once lived in when they were married... waaayyy back in the day?"
"Uh huh. Yep."
"...and you brought Lucy back to her old home just to tell her that you were giving it back to her?"
Maggie shrugged her shoulders.
"Well, I asked her to come over weeks ago. But by the time she finally did, I already had my mind made up about it. Yeah."
"And what did Lucy have to say about all of this?"
Maggie shrugged again.
"Well, she uhh, she accused me of being drunk, for starters. Told me that I shouldn't be drinking so early in the morning, or at all really, considering all of the medication that I'm on. You know, real mom shit."
Roxy squinted in Maggie's general direction.
"But she's not wrong, though. If you're on, like, twelve different medications... alcohol can't be good for that."
"But that's just the thing," Maggie shot back, "I don't take 'em anymore. Morrie is the real reason Lucy thought I was crazy-"
* * *
"I'm serious Luce, dead serious." Maggie said with her arms out, palms up on the table in front of her. "Ask Morrie, no lie. There was nothing in my system when I first came up with this idea... and I know that you've been looking for a place ever since... well... we don't really have to bring him up if you don't want to."
“I’d rather not.” Lucy replied quickly. “Okay, so even if you were completely sober when you came up with this… Why?”
"Because-" Maggie sighed. She threw her arms back up again. "Isn't it obvious? I can't do this shit anymore. I can't be Jenova anymore. This shit is fucking killing me."
Maggie shook her head as she looked across the table at the former Jenova herself, pleading for understanding.
"Everywhere I look. Everywhere I turn. Everywhere I go," Maggie continued desperately, "You've seen the scar, haven't you? You know what I've been through. You know how difficult it is to know where Magdalena Lockheart ends and Jenova begins. I thought the more I fought that I'd be closer to figuring this out... but nope."
“..And you think getting out of here will help you figure it out?”
Maggie almost burst out into maniacal laughter. The only thing that stopped her was that she already felt as though she was coming across as 'too crazy'.
"I don't know? Yes? Maybe?" Maggie shook her head and sighed. "I guess so? Look. As crazy as it sounds I'm still not sure if literally everything I do isn't still being controlled by him somehow."
“Okay.” Lucy replied, matter-of-factly.
"Okay? Just okay?"
“I’ll do it. I mean, I can’t claim to understand what you’re going through. I only have my own experiences to go off of and they’re much different from this. But if this is the step you think you need to take to take care of yourself? I’ll take the house back.”
"You will?" Maggie's eyes lit up. "Oh thank you thank you thank you thank you!"
Lucy takes a deep breath.
“It's... It's fine. I’d love to tell you that CJ’s influence only goes so far," Lucy continued, "But honestly? I watched him for years do what he does, and I was grateful that he never did that shit to me.. Well, except when he did. But.. Hell, I don’t know. Just you taking care of yourself is all I can really ask for-”
"That and you could tell her that she really needs to be taking her medicine," Morrie interjected. "Who knows? She might listen to you."
Lucy pursed her lips at Maggie. "Really? You're not taking your meds?"
Maggie rolled her eyes.
"What's the point in taking them for migraines that I don't have anymore? Huh Morrie...?"
"There's a lot more to it than that and you know it."
Maggie motioned for Morrie to hush up but it was too late. Lucy was going to Lucy.
"You have twelve different medications for migraines?" Lucy asked.
"No, three, I think." Maggie gave Morrie the death stare. "But I'm completely pill-free now. I don't even take the Vicodin anymore... absolutely refuse to touch it."
Lucy facepalmed.
"You mean to tell me that you're in an extreme amount of pain.. And you have Vicodin.. Sitting right over there.. That you refuse to take?"
"That's the gist of it, yeah."
"So instead of not being in pain you'd rather have margaritas at 8:00 AM-"
* * *
"So you signed yourself up for the WrestleStock open because you've decided that you'd much rather be an alcoholic than a pill junkie."
Maggie chuckled.
"Where is everyone getting on with this fantasy that I'm an alcoholic? So what if I had one drink for breakfast. You do realize that that was my own lame-ass attempt to celebrate a title defense?"
"Is that what it was?" Roxy smiled over at her. "I must admit, I do admire your restraint then."
"Hah. Yeah. Restraint." Maggie switched her crossed-over legs from her right to her left and grunted. "That's exactly the type of quality that I'm still trying to figure out. Ain't much restraint going on when Jenova's doing... heh... Jenova things."
"Is that why you signed up for WrestleStock? Because when you're feeling this Jenova persona you can't seem to help yourself?"
Maggie sighed yet again.
"No. That's not it, either." Maggie struggled for a few moments to piece the words together in her mind's eye. "How can I explain this in a way that will help you understand- ugh. It's kind of like that show Lucifer on Netflix. Have you seen it by any chance?"
"Have I seen it?" Roxy burst out with joy. "Lucifer's one of, if not my all time absolute favorite! Of course I've seen it!"
"Good." Maggie smiled at her. "So you know how, in the show, that no matter what Lucifer does or doesn't do... he always feels like God is in control... kind of forcing upon him his own way... and he hates it?"
"Yeah?"
"Replace 'God' with 'CJ Wylde' and you've got your answer."
"Ooooh."
Roxy tapped her pen.
"Make sense now?" Maggie asked.
"Nope. Not one freaking bit, no."
Maggie rolled her eyes.
"Just think of it like a butterfly effect. Like I was trying to explain to Morrie-"
* * *
"So that's just it, huh? You're going to sign the house over to her... pack your things... and you're leaving?"
Maggie sat on the grand staircase out in the foyer. Morrie stood facing her at the foot of the stairs.
"That's the plan, yeah."
"Well... goodbye I guess. You know I'm going to miss you, but I also know you're only doing this because you think that it's the right thing to do."
"...and you don't?" Maggie asked, her question so sharp it was stabbing. "I don't know if anyone has told you this yet Morrie... but your old friend CJ? Yeah. He was kinda an asshole."
"Yes he was." Morrie spat back. "But you know what? I waited on that man hand and foot for over three years. Three years! And all he talked about in all of that time was you guys. All he ever watched on TV was you and Lucy. Sure, he might have done some bad shit in his time but he never once denied any of it. That man knew what he had done but in his final years all he did do was-"
"Care?" Maggie stopped him right there. "Lucy was the one he cared about. I was just a pawn. A tool. A puppet-"
"That ain't true," Morrie shot back. "Do you really think CJ didn't care about you? Do you really think he would have given off his legacy to someone that he didn't think deserved it?"
"I DON'T CARE WHAT CJ THINKS-"
Maggie's voice carried as rumbling echoes throughout the empty hallway.
"Think, thought, whatever." Maggie corrected herself as she pulled herself back from the emotional ledge. "I can't keep carrying the burden of this Black Legacy because I'm tired, Morrie. I'm tired of being alone."
Maggie was doing her best to try to hold back the tears.
"I don't want to die like CJ did..." she practically whispered.
Morrie took a step forward and placed his hand on Maggie's cheek.
"But CJ didn't die alone, did he?"
* * *
"I still remember it clear as day, Roxy." Maggie said, sniffling. "It was close to the end. CJ asked me... he said: "Lift my hand up for me, please." He wanted me to place his hand on my cheek. So... I did. Albeit rather reluctantly."
"Why?"
Roxy could feel the emotion in Maggie's voice and was holding back her own tears.
It was getting closer to 9:30 and she didn't even care.
"I was crying. He... wanted to comfort me." Maggie's voice stuttered. "He knew that I knew that he was close to the end. He knew that I felt a certain way about him. He knew that, to me anyway, he was the closest thing I've ever had to having a Dad... and I was watching my Dad die."
"...and he wanted you there with him?"
"Yeah," Maggie's eyes welled up. She blotted away what she had hoped the camera wouldn't see. "So that's why I signed up for the WrestleStock open. Sure, I'm in rough shape. Sure... I don't need another title opportunity. Sure... winning the WrestleStock Open would be another big feather in my cap. But this is bigger than just me, you know? Maybe I've realized that, despite all that I've done since being back... despite being the Final Boss champion in Level Up or despite being the Horrorcore champion in Revolution 1... I've got this problem that I need to take care of that I can't take care of any place else."
Maggie pushed herself up in the chair.
"I can win and defend championship title belts wherever I go. I can do that whenever and however I damn-well please. But, you see, UGWC is different. It's the place where CJ Wylde suffered his career-ending injury. It's the place where Lucy Wylde calls home. It's the place where Magdalena Marie Lockheart was once 'The Future, the Artist, and the Gunslinger' long before I had my own life-slash-career threatening injury and long before I was given the mantle of Jenova."
"I can't say that I've come here for an answer, because maybe there isn't one. But I've got to trace this shit back to its source. And I know for a fact that the other eleven in this tournament... they don't care. They're selfish... as they should be. They only care about being number one, getting a title shot they can brag about on a resume that otherwise wouldn't amount to jack shit in the long run. But that's cool, because I don't care either. I didn't come here to guarantee anything, Maggie Lockheart's already tried that in a previous lifetime and what'd she get, runner up to Sarah Lacklan? So regardless of what happens out there, It's already alright if I don't."
"Maybe I just need the experience. Maybe, something about WrestleStock will jog the ol' memory and for once I can feel like it's not CJ that's still dictating my every move. Cause I don't know. It's so hard to tell anymore what CJ could have anticipated that I would have done by now. Maybe he could have guessed that I'd make my way back to UGWC at some point. Maybe he wanted the Black Legacy to find its way back to the Coalition. Maybe he knew I'd make my way back here one day, eventually. Maybe he intended for me to come back... or maybe he never wanted me to come back at all. Who even knows anymore?"
"Maybe I'm meant to find Ichabod and snap his scrawny little neck for all of the shit that he's pulled. Cause that's the real truth in all of this. Sometimes you can't fully understand or comprehend just how many people, and how far reaching the consequences are to our actions. Maybe I'm meant to go out there and stand in the middle of the ring... grab a microphone... look whoever the Creative Director is at the time-"
"It's Holden." Roxy spoke up. "Holden Orson."
"Thanks. Maybe I'm supposed to look Orson in the eye and threaten to burn the entire Coalition to the ground. Because I could now... I so fucking could... I've suffered far more for far less... and even though it may only end up being an idle threat... maybe I just see who's most faithful to the cause... maybe I want to see who comes running out to save their glorious ship... with their self-righteous heroic sense of purpose... and burn whoever that poor soul that to the ground instead. And after I'm done presumably curb-stomping half the UGWC roster... Who knows? Then I could start asking the real fucking questions."
"Like what, exactly, Maggie?"
"Who are you and what have you done to CJ Wylde? To Lucy? And why the fuck am I, a former two-time Cross-Hemisphere champion, back with absolutely no knowledge or recollection as to why I didn't see a fucking soul from UGWC at that man's funeral? Maybe I signed up because... yeah... I'm in no condition to fight... but maybe I think that it's wrong that the last place CJ wrestled in likes to pretend that CJ Wylde never existed. So maybe that's it. Maybe it stings a little. Maybe it's a slap to the face waiting to be repaid. Maybe it's all about how I've been carrying on this Black Legacy for months, more like a year now... and the place where the first domino fell still has no idea what the Black Legacy of CJ Wylde is all about? Nuh uh, nope, fuck that. THAT PART SEEMS LIKE SOMETHING I CAN CHANGE REAL FUCKING QUICK AROUND HERE- So maybe this is just me intending to do just that."
"What do they want me to do in return, hmm? Did your bosses tell me to rattle off a list of names, huh? Play nice? Look you right in the eye and tell you that it'll be a joy, honor, and privilege to finally win the tournament I never could and enjoy yet another title opportunity of my choosing I don't want? Do they want me to say I'll beat Tony Savage in the first round? That chucklefuck Avenger in the second? Whoever it ends up being in the finals? Nope. I didn't come all this way just to give them that satisfaction of the cringe collection of cliches on another cookie-cutter vignette. I signed up for one reason, and one reason only, and that is because I wanted THEM to KNOW-"
"Know what?" Roxy Malone asked.
"TO KNOW THAT THE BLACK LEGACY IS ALIVE AND WELL! To know that the Black Legacy is HERE and it is a CURSE, a PLAGUE, and it's a POISON. It's contagious, it's infectious, it's venomous and it's radioactive... that it's highly explosive and that regardless of the interaction you have with it - it just never ends well now, does it? And the one thing above all else that they should know about the Black Legacy of Jenova... of CJ Wylde... is that there isn't a SOUL that ever came in contact with the calamity that wasn't changed by it in some fundamental way. And the change is permanent. Don't believe me Roxy? Just ask around. As CJ used to say, changes come, and a big part of why I'm here is what reconciling all this change is all about. So pardon me if I'm not going to sit here and tell you that I'm going to win the WrestleStock Open because quite honestly that's just not what I do anymore."
"All that the powers that be can hope for at this point is that I DON'T win this damn tournament and go on to fight for one of THEIR titles. Because I'm not the Magdalena Lockheart that they remember. Maybe that's all I can really say anymore is that I'm NOT their MAGGIE of OLD-" She sighed. "The more that I fight, the more it all comes back to me... all of the pieces that my mind has been missing since someone bashed the side of my head in with a ring bell. But I'm tired, Miss Malone, I really am, of constantly doing this by myself just to feel even more alone when I go home, so..."
"Maybe, I figure, Magdalena Lockheart didn't have to die so that Jenova could be reborn. But then again, maybe Maggie did die back then... and the girl who woke up with the steel plate surgically attached to the fractured pieces of her skull was always meant to be the new JENOVA all along..."
Lockheart shrugged.
"Either way, it is bigger than just me... and that's just the way it needs to be, for something that, to me, is so awfully personal. Can Tony Savage say that? Can Shawn Young say that? Can Duncan Ryder? Can Sah'ta Thor? Is there anyone out of the other eleven out there that can look you in the eye and say something other than they deserve to win because they are destined to? Because they're better than me? Than everyone else? WHAT KIND OF CROCK OF BULLSHIT IS THAT? Is that all that professional wrestling has boiled down to? Just a bunch of fucking one-in-a-million God's gifts to the squared circle waxing poetic about the future triumphs they claim clairvoyance to? Who even knows anymore? All I can tell you is that I don't know WHO I am anymore... and to me that's the entire FUCKING point. Push me PAST my limit and I don't KNOW how I'll react. But what happens out there in the desert between me and the person desperate enough to try? WHAT HAPPENS NEXT TO THEM IS EXACTLY what they MADE me do! I can damn sure promise you that!"
