Post by demi on May 22, 2022 20:55:34 GMT -5
•─────⋅☾ ✧ ☽⋅─────•
A woman always knows when there is someone else. It’s akin to walking into an empty room and smelling the perfume of the woman who has just exited wafting through the air. Never dissipating, just a swirling cumulus bumping its head against the plaster like a gentle knock on the door. She moves through the room and into the hall, catching amorphous glimpses of specters floating in the darkened doorways she passes, just out of the corner of her eye - never there when she turns her head to confront them dead on.
Then there are the little tells. His distracted gaze at dinner, the sudden preoccupation with phones and tablets as he compulsively follows them from the otherside of a screen, a cold spot on his side of the bed in the middle of the night long after he should have been home. And all the while, that acrid perfume lingers on like white noise.
Truth be told, there were days that I prayed to go nose blind. Half driven mad, opening every window in the house and lighting every candle we owned in some sort of last ditch attempt to disguise the smell of rot in my marriage. But it only grew.
I wish that you could have met us when we were whole. Before immortality, before Id, before the entire experience. My marriage was a sandcastle that had been washed away by the ocean only to be rebuilt to look the same, but not identical. I suppose that people are not like flowers pressed between the pages of a book, no matter how hard you might try to make them so.
Stephen laughs at me, of course, but one expects that in marriage.
•─────⋅☾ ✧ ☽⋅─────•
The pain was instantaneous as the tip of the knife penetrated my skin allowing an access point for the citrus to work its way into the cut. The copper taste of blood mixed with the lemon juice in my mouth as I sucked on the wound on the tip of my finger, the knife still gripped in the opposite hand as I turned my head to Charlotte and the tutor at the table across the kitchen.
The wiry Japanese woman had not been with us long, only a few short months since we had relocated from the Spain house. She’d come recommended for people like us in part because she was fluent in English but also because of the pedigree of her former students. Charlotte’s cherub face had begun to lose much of what separates children from teenagers, the subtle change that I sometimes did not even notice was highlighted in that moment as she lifted her concerned gaze in my direction.
“Are you hurt?” Charlotte asked with the sort of concern that only comes from children towards their parents. Mai loudly clicked her tongue, lightly slapping the back of Charlotte's hand where it rested on the table, pointing back to the textbook in front of her to indicate that the girl should continue with her studies.
The knife was discarded on the chopping block as I instead moved across the kitchen to stand in the space between their two chairs, my dominant hand resting atop of Mai’s hand in its prone position on the table top as I turned to my daughter, using the opposite hand to lift her chin.
“Practically Indestructible, Sometimes.” She smiled as I released her face looking like she was happy for the welcomed distraction from her studies. I shifted my body into a more relaxed position between the two so that I could more wholly face Charlotte, breaking their line of sight to one another.
“Lemon lies.” Came her wry response. I chuckled, tensing my hand. Everyday she began to sound more and more like her father. Worse yet, she seemed to have me just as figured out as he did.
“Mmm. Should I be worried about an alliance brewing behind my back?” My face contorted into mock suspicion as Charlotte cooly raised a brow, maintaining eye contact. Mai made a soft sound behind us that I ignored and Charlotte did not apparently hear over the television droning on in the background of the open concept room.
“A hostile takeover of the worst kind.” She nonchalantly responded before her expression changed to something more serious. “Mom, are we going back to America soon?”
The sudden shift in conversation caught me off guard.
“Can’t say, Sometimes.” My brows furrowed together as I did the mental math. “It’s only been a few months since our last visit but I’m sure we’ll go back soon.” Charlotte looked at me like I was being purposely obtuse to the point she was making.
“I don’t mean for a visit. I mean for real.” The young girl slouched back into her chair, crossing her arms over her chest in a petulant mirage of what was to come in only a few more short years.
“What’s going on? I thought you were enjoying Tokyo.” My hands dropped back to my side as I stepped back to put space between Charlotte and myself. Mai quietly excused herself, leaving me to perch on the edge of her now vacant chair.
“Tokyo is okay. But I miss Lexy and everyone else back home. What if she—”
Charlotte continued to speak but her words became background noise as I started to slowly rise to my feet, eyes transfixed to the television screen across the room where an urgent news report was being given live from New York. All at once I was halfway across the room towards the television though for the life of me I couldn’t remember taking the steps to get me there. Charlotte was a confused presence at my back as I tried to make sense of the frenzied images being splashed across the screen like coffee that had been spilt over a morning paper.
I sensed Stephen’s nearness before I ever saw him padding barefoot down the stairs to my right, the relaxed expression on his face instantly washed away as he followed my line of sight to the television screen. Charlotte gripped my hand like it was the last solid thing in the world but I couldn’t focus on the source of her distress, only the words coming from the mouth of a television reporter that stood like some grotesque sentient who had been painted in strobing red and blue watercolor. Then came the announcement:
“Xavier Black has been shot.”
Stephen and I looked at one another from across the room as the reality of the situation, of what we’d done, began to set in. I wanted to say something, anything, but I was aware that Charlotte was an anchor at my side and that whatever we said next needed to be carefully worded for not only her presence but for Mai who was still somewhere in the house. Stephen was the first to recover from the shock of the announcement, a small smile playing across his lips as he cocked his head in my direction looking bemused. His voice was childlike innocence when he finally spoke as if the words themself were a defense of the action that had occurred.
“I didn’t think he’d actually do it.”
•─────⋅☾ ✧ ☽⋅─────•
It occurs to me that I’ve brought you into the story during intermission assuming that you already know what has happened in the first act. In many ways, it’s like the serpent eating its own tail. How could I ever begin to tell you the circumstances that brought us to this point without you understanding who we are to each other? And in that same vein, how could I ever explain what happened between us without you first understanding who we are? It is the age old paradox of the chicken and the egg, in the most simplistic terms.
Since time began the universe has been composed of competing and complementary forces: dark and light, sun and moon, male and female. More commonly, you probably would know this as the Chinese philosophy of Yin and Yang. Yin is characterized as an inward energy, generally feminine but dark and negative whereas it’s counterpart Yang is a masculine outward energy, bright and positive. Most people merely think of this as opposites without understanding the full philosophical premise of duality. To the uneducated, the two halves of the whole seem at eternal conflict with one another when in reality, the survival of one is dependent on the survival of the other.
Stephen and I have also been together since the universe began, in one way or another. We met early in our careers, a marriage born in blood you might say. In those years we were deliciously happy with only one minor exception by the name of Damon Riggs. At that time, there were no names higher on the marquee than that of Riggs and Wolf. Perhaps it was fear of what they knew would one day come or simply jealousy at what already was, for whatever the reason the names Riggs and Wolf took special exception to the name Stratford.
The culmination of this special interest ended with me in the bottom of a dumpster, Stephen’s battered body thrown in on top of me shortly after. In the hospital we found out about Charlotte and decided to take leave of this ugly business in favor of our family.
The years wore on and as we raised our daughter we watched from the sidelines and the names Riggs and Wolf took this business by the throat with a titanium grip. I must admit, it was difficult to watch. But we had Charlotte to think about and so we simply watched and allowed what would be to be.
Until one day an opportunity came knocking on our door. Level Up has its mysterious Developer, we had The Producer - the man who would introduce Outlaw Pro Wrestling to an unknown stranger simply referred to as Id who would later, with a bat against the throat of a battered and broken Damon Riggs, reveal himself as the ghost Stephen Stratford.
As the nursery rhyme goes, wherever Damon Riggs went a little wolf was sure to follow. In the early days that was Kal X. Wolf until the elder Wolf stepped back allowing a man then known as Xavier Wolf (now Black, to those paying attention) to take his place. An invention known as the Stairway to Heaven saw Stephen face Xavier Black along with Anicka Swan, Paul Montuori and two other lesser names with the Immortal Championship hanging in the balance. After vanquishing the others only Stephen and Xavier remained, both with a hand on the belt perilously hung above the ring until a twist of fate left only Xavier’s hand when both men landed on the mat. Stephen was dejected while Xavier became the pinnacle of the business.. for a moment, anyway.
Tragically, Xavier Black crumbled under the combined weight of personal issues and the toll of the championship and the very next PPV saw Stephen ascending to his rightful place as Immortal Champion while Xavier was left to pursue him for the next eight months, foaming at the mouth for the opportunity to take back what he felt was stolen from him. With news of OPW closing its doors the match was made on the very final show and the chess game began.
Inside what we now know became FIGHT Tower the two men met a final time only for the feed to be cut midway through leaving only those two men to know who was the victor. Well, those two men and their respective wives, of course.
Xavier went on to bring the world FIGHT NYC unexpectedly finding the same success in running his own promotion as he did as competing in them. As for Stephen and I, well, we took a different path.
•─────⋅☾ ✧ ☽⋅─────•
“This is the place? You’re certain?” Stephen leaned over the back of my chair, moving the mouse across the screen to click the website link displayed on the screen. He took only a moment to adjust the open windows so that I could see the most recent social media updates from the promotion in one window while still keeping the previous window open to the left.
“Look at the names.” He scrolled the mouse down over announcements for Michelle Riggs, Paul Montuori and Dane Preston. I couldn’t help but scoff at the last name on that list. Stephen had cut the head off of Damon Riggs only for Dane Preston’s to sprout back in its place. The only difference being that Damon at one point had been something while Preston was merely a never-was. If we were to have our way he would be able to add never-would-be to that distinction. After all, it’s not good to let these sorts of things have the opportunity to grow. “And then an hour ago this one.” He scrolled the window down to reveal the most recent announcement.
Now this one interests me. She looked much as she had the last time that I had watched her but totally unlike how she had before. Stephen straightened back up, resting his hands on my collarbone, fingers trailing around the base of my neck as we stared at the face looking back at us from the screen.
My head tilted backwards so that I could look up at Stephen who was in deep thought, eyes transfixed to the electronic visage. I smelt it then, like a hot poker pressed into a festering pus filled wound. It was the smell of rot. He tore his eyes away from the face on the screen to look down at me, placing a gentle kiss on my forehead. A woman always knows.
“How soon?” I asked. Immediately, he said.
•─────⋅☾ ✧ ☽⋅─────•
In the days after things moved very quickly and before I knew it we had boarded a plane back to the French Quarter to begin preparations. Stephen and I found ourselves contracted to a promotion known as Level Up and in very short order we were thrust back into the spotlight at DOOM to the somewhat cold reception of our dear friends Paul Montuori and Michelle Riggs.
You’ll come to find that we elicit a certain reaction from our contemporaries, one that is not always positive. It’s expected. People tend to react unfavorably when they know what little power they hold will soon slip through their fingertips like so many things before have. Call it ego or call it truth, they’re one in the same. Of course, Paul and Michelle were above that. Their reception was merely just the two being taken aback by our unexpected appearance.
Despite the fact that they were less than thrilled to see us, no one in the world is happier than Stephen and I at just how much Paul and Michelle have improved over the last year since stepping away from OPW. Michelle went from being a glorified sofa ornament to one of the most formidable women in FIGHT NYC not attached to the New Status Quo, of course. And Paul who started so strong and ended much the same despite his missteps over the course of the three seasons. He truly shocked us all as the man who might have been king, even if he never could hold his footing in the main event. Paul Montuori is a man who is at his best when he plays to his strengths and I have no doubt that he’ll find the same success in Level Up that he found in FIGHT.
After the ink had dried and our debut had been made we found ourselves preparing for a tag team match against, well, I believe they’re Italian? Brothers maybe? Unimportant. As I understand it these Waluigi Brothers are exceptionally passionate performers who while not always successful in combat continually pursue that which slips through their grasp. It’s commendable and something that I feel more performers could learn a thing or two from. After all, there is no shame at being the greatest at the level you’re on. Even if that level is several below the top echelon of the business. Something else people in this business could stand to learn.
While I certainly sympathize with the Mr. Waluigi’s and find myself somewhat drawn to their fiery spirits, I regret that this week will not be the week that sees them stepping above their station in life. I wish there were another way, but unfortunately they pose an obstacle for myself and Stephen. While we are normally singles competitors I would wager that we know one another more intimately than perhaps any other team established or otherwise in Level Up. Pun intended.
The fact of the matter is this: we have a task to be completed and whether it be the Waluigi World Order, a Preston, a Riggs or a Montuori; nothing will keep us from our task. That isn’t posturing, it’s a promise.
•─────⋅☾ ✧ ☽⋅─────•
A woman always knows when there is someone else. It’s akin to walking into an empty room and smelling the perfume of the woman who has just exited wafting through the air. Never dissipating, just a swirling cumulus bumping its head against the plaster like a gentle knock on the door. She moves through the room and into the hall, catching amorphous glimpses of specters floating in the darkened doorways she passes, just out of the corner of her eye - never there when she turns her head to confront them dead on.
Then there are the little tells. His distracted gaze at dinner, the sudden preoccupation with phones and tablets as he compulsively follows them from the otherside of a screen, a cold spot on his side of the bed in the middle of the night long after he should have been home. And all the while, that acrid perfume lingers on like white noise.
Truth be told, there were days that I prayed to go nose blind. Half driven mad, opening every window in the house and lighting every candle we owned in some sort of last ditch attempt to disguise the smell of rot in my marriage. But it only grew.
I wish that you could have met us when we were whole. Before immortality, before Id, before the entire experience. My marriage was a sandcastle that had been washed away by the ocean only to be rebuilt to look the same, but not identical. I suppose that people are not like flowers pressed between the pages of a book, no matter how hard you might try to make them so.
Stephen laughs at me, of course, but one expects that in marriage.
•─────⋅☾ ✧ ☽⋅─────•
The pain was instantaneous as the tip of the knife penetrated my skin allowing an access point for the citrus to work its way into the cut. The copper taste of blood mixed with the lemon juice in my mouth as I sucked on the wound on the tip of my finger, the knife still gripped in the opposite hand as I turned my head to Charlotte and the tutor at the table across the kitchen.
The wiry Japanese woman had not been with us long, only a few short months since we had relocated from the Spain house. She’d come recommended for people like us in part because she was fluent in English but also because of the pedigree of her former students. Charlotte’s cherub face had begun to lose much of what separates children from teenagers, the subtle change that I sometimes did not even notice was highlighted in that moment as she lifted her concerned gaze in my direction.
“Are you hurt?” Charlotte asked with the sort of concern that only comes from children towards their parents. Mai loudly clicked her tongue, lightly slapping the back of Charlotte's hand where it rested on the table, pointing back to the textbook in front of her to indicate that the girl should continue with her studies.
The knife was discarded on the chopping block as I instead moved across the kitchen to stand in the space between their two chairs, my dominant hand resting atop of Mai’s hand in its prone position on the table top as I turned to my daughter, using the opposite hand to lift her chin.
“Practically Indestructible, Sometimes.” She smiled as I released her face looking like she was happy for the welcomed distraction from her studies. I shifted my body into a more relaxed position between the two so that I could more wholly face Charlotte, breaking their line of sight to one another.
“Lemon lies.” Came her wry response. I chuckled, tensing my hand. Everyday she began to sound more and more like her father. Worse yet, she seemed to have me just as figured out as he did.
“Mmm. Should I be worried about an alliance brewing behind my back?” My face contorted into mock suspicion as Charlotte cooly raised a brow, maintaining eye contact. Mai made a soft sound behind us that I ignored and Charlotte did not apparently hear over the television droning on in the background of the open concept room.
“A hostile takeover of the worst kind.” She nonchalantly responded before her expression changed to something more serious. “Mom, are we going back to America soon?”
The sudden shift in conversation caught me off guard.
“Can’t say, Sometimes.” My brows furrowed together as I did the mental math. “It’s only been a few months since our last visit but I’m sure we’ll go back soon.” Charlotte looked at me like I was being purposely obtuse to the point she was making.
“I don’t mean for a visit. I mean for real.” The young girl slouched back into her chair, crossing her arms over her chest in a petulant mirage of what was to come in only a few more short years.
“What’s going on? I thought you were enjoying Tokyo.” My hands dropped back to my side as I stepped back to put space between Charlotte and myself. Mai quietly excused herself, leaving me to perch on the edge of her now vacant chair.
“Tokyo is okay. But I miss Lexy and everyone else back home. What if she—”
Charlotte continued to speak but her words became background noise as I started to slowly rise to my feet, eyes transfixed to the television screen across the room where an urgent news report was being given live from New York. All at once I was halfway across the room towards the television though for the life of me I couldn’t remember taking the steps to get me there. Charlotte was a confused presence at my back as I tried to make sense of the frenzied images being splashed across the screen like coffee that had been spilt over a morning paper.
I sensed Stephen’s nearness before I ever saw him padding barefoot down the stairs to my right, the relaxed expression on his face instantly washed away as he followed my line of sight to the television screen. Charlotte gripped my hand like it was the last solid thing in the world but I couldn’t focus on the source of her distress, only the words coming from the mouth of a television reporter that stood like some grotesque sentient who had been painted in strobing red and blue watercolor. Then came the announcement:
“Xavier Black has been shot.”
Stephen and I looked at one another from across the room as the reality of the situation, of what we’d done, began to set in. I wanted to say something, anything, but I was aware that Charlotte was an anchor at my side and that whatever we said next needed to be carefully worded for not only her presence but for Mai who was still somewhere in the house. Stephen was the first to recover from the shock of the announcement, a small smile playing across his lips as he cocked his head in my direction looking bemused. His voice was childlike innocence when he finally spoke as if the words themself were a defense of the action that had occurred.
“I didn’t think he’d actually do it.”
•─────⋅☾ ✧ ☽⋅─────•
It occurs to me that I’ve brought you into the story during intermission assuming that you already know what has happened in the first act. In many ways, it’s like the serpent eating its own tail. How could I ever begin to tell you the circumstances that brought us to this point without you understanding who we are to each other? And in that same vein, how could I ever explain what happened between us without you first understanding who we are? It is the age old paradox of the chicken and the egg, in the most simplistic terms.
Since time began the universe has been composed of competing and complementary forces: dark and light, sun and moon, male and female. More commonly, you probably would know this as the Chinese philosophy of Yin and Yang. Yin is characterized as an inward energy, generally feminine but dark and negative whereas it’s counterpart Yang is a masculine outward energy, bright and positive. Most people merely think of this as opposites without understanding the full philosophical premise of duality. To the uneducated, the two halves of the whole seem at eternal conflict with one another when in reality, the survival of one is dependent on the survival of the other.
Stephen and I have also been together since the universe began, in one way or another. We met early in our careers, a marriage born in blood you might say. In those years we were deliciously happy with only one minor exception by the name of Damon Riggs. At that time, there were no names higher on the marquee than that of Riggs and Wolf. Perhaps it was fear of what they knew would one day come or simply jealousy at what already was, for whatever the reason the names Riggs and Wolf took special exception to the name Stratford.
The culmination of this special interest ended with me in the bottom of a dumpster, Stephen’s battered body thrown in on top of me shortly after. In the hospital we found out about Charlotte and decided to take leave of this ugly business in favor of our family.
The years wore on and as we raised our daughter we watched from the sidelines and the names Riggs and Wolf took this business by the throat with a titanium grip. I must admit, it was difficult to watch. But we had Charlotte to think about and so we simply watched and allowed what would be to be.
Until one day an opportunity came knocking on our door. Level Up has its mysterious Developer, we had The Producer - the man who would introduce Outlaw Pro Wrestling to an unknown stranger simply referred to as Id who would later, with a bat against the throat of a battered and broken Damon Riggs, reveal himself as the ghost Stephen Stratford.
As the nursery rhyme goes, wherever Damon Riggs went a little wolf was sure to follow. In the early days that was Kal X. Wolf until the elder Wolf stepped back allowing a man then known as Xavier Wolf (now Black, to those paying attention) to take his place. An invention known as the Stairway to Heaven saw Stephen face Xavier Black along with Anicka Swan, Paul Montuori and two other lesser names with the Immortal Championship hanging in the balance. After vanquishing the others only Stephen and Xavier remained, both with a hand on the belt perilously hung above the ring until a twist of fate left only Xavier’s hand when both men landed on the mat. Stephen was dejected while Xavier became the pinnacle of the business.. for a moment, anyway.
Tragically, Xavier Black crumbled under the combined weight of personal issues and the toll of the championship and the very next PPV saw Stephen ascending to his rightful place as Immortal Champion while Xavier was left to pursue him for the next eight months, foaming at the mouth for the opportunity to take back what he felt was stolen from him. With news of OPW closing its doors the match was made on the very final show and the chess game began.
Inside what we now know became FIGHT Tower the two men met a final time only for the feed to be cut midway through leaving only those two men to know who was the victor. Well, those two men and their respective wives, of course.
Xavier went on to bring the world FIGHT NYC unexpectedly finding the same success in running his own promotion as he did as competing in them. As for Stephen and I, well, we took a different path.
•─────⋅☾ ✧ ☽⋅─────•
“This is the place? You’re certain?” Stephen leaned over the back of my chair, moving the mouse across the screen to click the website link displayed on the screen. He took only a moment to adjust the open windows so that I could see the most recent social media updates from the promotion in one window while still keeping the previous window open to the left.
“Look at the names.” He scrolled the mouse down over announcements for Michelle Riggs, Paul Montuori and Dane Preston. I couldn’t help but scoff at the last name on that list. Stephen had cut the head off of Damon Riggs only for Dane Preston’s to sprout back in its place. The only difference being that Damon at one point had been something while Preston was merely a never-was. If we were to have our way he would be able to add never-would-be to that distinction. After all, it’s not good to let these sorts of things have the opportunity to grow. “And then an hour ago this one.” He scrolled the window down to reveal the most recent announcement.
Now this one interests me. She looked much as she had the last time that I had watched her but totally unlike how she had before. Stephen straightened back up, resting his hands on my collarbone, fingers trailing around the base of my neck as we stared at the face looking back at us from the screen.
My head tilted backwards so that I could look up at Stephen who was in deep thought, eyes transfixed to the electronic visage. I smelt it then, like a hot poker pressed into a festering pus filled wound. It was the smell of rot. He tore his eyes away from the face on the screen to look down at me, placing a gentle kiss on my forehead. A woman always knows.
“How soon?” I asked. Immediately, he said.
•─────⋅☾ ✧ ☽⋅─────•
In the days after things moved very quickly and before I knew it we had boarded a plane back to the French Quarter to begin preparations. Stephen and I found ourselves contracted to a promotion known as Level Up and in very short order we were thrust back into the spotlight at DOOM to the somewhat cold reception of our dear friends Paul Montuori and Michelle Riggs.
You’ll come to find that we elicit a certain reaction from our contemporaries, one that is not always positive. It’s expected. People tend to react unfavorably when they know what little power they hold will soon slip through their fingertips like so many things before have. Call it ego or call it truth, they’re one in the same. Of course, Paul and Michelle were above that. Their reception was merely just the two being taken aback by our unexpected appearance.
Despite the fact that they were less than thrilled to see us, no one in the world is happier than Stephen and I at just how much Paul and Michelle have improved over the last year since stepping away from OPW. Michelle went from being a glorified sofa ornament to one of the most formidable women in FIGHT NYC not attached to the New Status Quo, of course. And Paul who started so strong and ended much the same despite his missteps over the course of the three seasons. He truly shocked us all as the man who might have been king, even if he never could hold his footing in the main event. Paul Montuori is a man who is at his best when he plays to his strengths and I have no doubt that he’ll find the same success in Level Up that he found in FIGHT.
After the ink had dried and our debut had been made we found ourselves preparing for a tag team match against, well, I believe they’re Italian? Brothers maybe? Unimportant. As I understand it these Waluigi Brothers are exceptionally passionate performers who while not always successful in combat continually pursue that which slips through their grasp. It’s commendable and something that I feel more performers could learn a thing or two from. After all, there is no shame at being the greatest at the level you’re on. Even if that level is several below the top echelon of the business. Something else people in this business could stand to learn.
While I certainly sympathize with the Mr. Waluigi’s and find myself somewhat drawn to their fiery spirits, I regret that this week will not be the week that sees them stepping above their station in life. I wish there were another way, but unfortunately they pose an obstacle for myself and Stephen. While we are normally singles competitors I would wager that we know one another more intimately than perhaps any other team established or otherwise in Level Up. Pun intended.
The fact of the matter is this: we have a task to be completed and whether it be the Waluigi World Order, a Preston, a Riggs or a Montuori; nothing will keep us from our task. That isn’t posturing, it’s a promise.
•─────⋅☾ ✧ ☽⋅─────•
