Post by Datura on Jun 11, 2016 22:53:58 GMT -6
June 5th, 2016
The sky churned as an ocean, each small bit of sunshine engulfed by spiraling clouds of gray. Wind from the gulf spun in from the coast, snapping branches and bending trees along Tampa’s sinister roadways. Elizabeth sat on the light brown sill of her studio apartment, eyes gazing outward into the chaos Colin had brought from the sea.
Her fingers danced lazy on the glass, pointer tracing the constellation of raindrops that cascaded away from her. As the rain beat against the roof and window, the soundscapes the storm forced her brain into a steady lull. A smile crept onto her face as she watched the droplets, once fierce bullets plummeting from the sky, now helplessly tumbling four stories toward the ground.
Stirring sheets broke her from the numbing static. Her head snapped around and back to the bed. Tangled in the white sheets, Morgan Cartier stretched from her curled position. The movement created an opportunity for the comforter to dip off her shoulders and retreat down her back. Elizabeth sighed as she studied the woman’s tattoos, admiring the swirling colors and lines that littered her pale skin.
The weekend was a blur. Elizabeth had gotten lost somewhere between Friday night, Morgan’s arrival, and now. Light flashes attempted to guide her through their days together, but she could only catch glimpses. She couldn’t picture Morgan’s skin, she couldn’t recall her scent, and she couldn’t remember her touch despite the fact that they had been inseparable for nearly two days. No matter how hard she tried, she could not put together a fluid string of events.
Elizabeth groaned and stood from her perch before taking one final look at the watery apocalypse outside. It had been a frustrating game attempting to remember anything as of late. She was caught in a perpetual mist, unable to see anything beside what was immediately in front of her. She could hardly recall the previous night or morning.
Rather than dwell, she decided to go back to bed.
June 6th, 2016
As Morgan left, Elizabeth felt the urge to force herself to focus onto her upcoming match at Fate of the Gods. The week reared its ugly head, promising long nights of watching tape and training for five opponents. Redemption had been kind to her, and she had pulled off a much needed victory against Maxwell Soloke and Patrick Jones. Somehow, that victory netted her the lovely opportunity to open the Quest for the Case hunt on the Pay Per View pre-show. She only knew because she had written it down.
Elizabeth sat at her computer and pulled up her mug, prepared to begin her arduous task. Despite examining the card the moment it was posted, her memory would not recall the list of competitors she would soon do battle with. She thought she remembered Katalina Starr, and perhaps Patrick Jones, but the rest of the names entirely escaped her.
Regardless of the lapse, she could not help but feel a sense of excitement billowing inside her. Elizabeth felt the signs on her face: the rush of blood to her cheeks, the beads of sweat that appeared on her temples, the clenched teeth, and the glimmer that settled in her eyes. These were the same side effects she felt when she debuted. Finally, after several weeks, they showed themselves again.
She couldn’t say she deserved it, but the Quest for the Case offered an opportunity to finally maneuver herself into the main event picture. It was a joyous occasion spread amongst the terrible cycle of forgetfulness and dread.
After taking a long gulp from her coffee, she pulled up the Visionaries of Wrestling front page. She navigated through the buttons and finally made her way to the card. With the final click, her face fell crooked
“There must be a mistake…” she sneered, clicking the refresh button multiple times. She repeated this step, trying to undo whatever hellish joke the universe played on her. Once she realized that she wasn’t being fooled, she leaned back in her chair and inhaled deeply. Visionaries of Wrestling had removed her from the qualifying match, opting to use her to fill in a Fatal Four way right before the main show.
"This cannot be happening." Elizabeth leaned forward and read the new names that were etched beside her own.
The poor bloke, Maxwell Soloke, would continue his rough transition reentering the fray in Visionaries of Wrestling. For the second week in a row, he would be forced to stare down Elizabeth in all of her frustration, a circumstance that would inevitably fail to bring an end to his misfortunes. Normally, she would feel a pang of guilt for unraveling the man’s emergence, but the newfound annoyance that boiled in her refused to let empathy rise. Instead, Elizabeth marked him for another defeat at her hands, one she would have no hesitation administering.
Craig Anderson would be the wild-card in the matchup. The former WEW and WTF champion hadn’t wrestled steadily since 2014, but Elizabeth knew that was no reason to disregard his ability. If there was anyone in the company who knew time off did not necessarily diminish the quality of the athlete, it was Elizabeth. It would be a hellish process pulling up all of his old matches, especially considering his style likely changed over last two years, but it would at least give her the baseline she desperately needed. Like Max had two weeks prior, Craig likely felt unbound anticipation, perhaps even more-so that his opportunity to present a new version of himself fell inside a Pay-Per-View, but Elizabeth had already crashed one homecoming. This would, unfortunately for Craig, have to become a habit.
Despite her experience telling her not to discount Maxwell and Anderson, especially since Max would be seeking personal redemption against her, Elizabeth's focus was firmly planted itself on Talon.
Fury, who may've been the most aptly name Horsewoman, presented the largest problem for Elizabeth. Although she had lost to Tristan, he did not possess the qualities that excited Liz. Her loss in that match was of her own doing. She had hoped he'd remain in her previous triple threat on Breakthrough, but her quest to avenge her personal failings would have to wait.
That triple threat match also lacked the anxious nature of her debut. Facing two men in a single match was enough to cause most competitors concern, but Patrick and Maxwell were minor inconveniences after facing .paak. Maxwell’s rust and Patrick's inherent inability to finish were enough to coax her into relative ease. Frankly, the two of them did not measure up to the potential of Talon’s wrath.
Even before knowing she would be part of this match, she had studied the Horsewomen with glee, having known some members from previous places of employment.
Though most of her work was in the tag division, Elizabeth had no doubts that Fury would be beyond comfortable in singles competition. Her ruthlessness inside and outside of the ring set her apart from other tag team specialists in the company. Whilst Gina Neon and her ilke relied on their partners, the Horsewomen drew from nothing more than their own savagery. It was a trait like this that excited Elizabeth.
Her annoyance faded. Finally, in what a few of her opponents would surely dub a placeholder for the pre-show, Elizabeth felt a tinge of anxiety. With her first victory in the company behind her, Elizabeth had the opportunity to cement herself into the upper echelon of Visionaries, regardless of whether she was in the Quest for the Case match or not. All she had to do was defeat Talon in a convincing manner.
Liz reached across her desk and grabbed her keys before jumping to her feet.
Her preparation still required work.
June 8th, 2016
“The doctor will see you now.” Simply hearing the term doctor sent me into a fit of giggling. Rita, the attendant at the front desk, quirked her brow at my outburst, but chose not to verbalize her confusion. The term was a term far too proper for the body it pronounced, and this place, as nice as it was, was a front for the nightmares that lurked inside. I stood from my blue smoking chair and followed Rita down the hall, giving a light wave to Doctor Wilson and Doctor Tang as they dismissed their patients. Their eyes filled with excitement as they saw me, each of them giving their weak-wristed waves. Finally, Rita knocked on the stained, hardwood door that separated us from the final office in the hall.
“Doctor, your walk-in is here.” She gave an insincere smile and scuttled down the hall, relieved i was the last person she would be required to be cordial to for the day. I stared at the door and peered at the door, slightly unsettled by the fact that it locked from the outside. I shrugged and stepped into the room.
“Doctor,” I scoffed.
“Call it a supplement of income” Cameron sighed as he closed the copy of whatever nonsense he was reading, likely some apologetics on addiction or torture or whatever ailment of his own her was attempting to justify these days. Rather than press him, I made my way toward the black leather sofa and threw myself into the seat, crossing my legs under my body.
“Tang and Wilson set you up rather nicely.” In truth, this was a tragic understatement. Cameron’s office was, by far, the largest office in the practice. The walls were lined with stained black bookshelves that reached up to the ceiling, save for the white floor to ceiling window overlooking the fountain behind the building. Cameron’s desk looked exactly as it had before he left, the massive frame hiding his collection of narcotics and prescription pads that numbered in the tens. The seating arrangement was minimal: a black leather sofa was centered in the room, no doubt to symbolize the patient was the center of attention. Cameron’s chair, the crimson smoking chair lay at the head of the sofa, leaving the space behind his desk empty for the view.
“Retiring from your own practice has its rewards,” Cameron stepped toward me and offered a glass of tea. I accepted it graciously and chugged the liquid down. The drink tasted of leaves, but there was an odd, unmistakable taste to it, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
“You don’t say. If they only knew the half.” I wiped my mouth, licking the droplets in an attempt to discover the familiar taste, and reclined into the pillows, nudging my head against them in an attempt to get comfortable.
“I intend to keep it that way.”
“As do I. I paid cash, obviously.”
“Good. Have you given thought about our most recent meeting?” He sat down in his crimson chair and crossed his left leg over his right.
“I have.”
“And?” The pitch of the question betrayed the facade of calm in his demeanor. I inhaled deeply and looked up at the spotless white ceiling.
“I should’ve come to the conclusion myself,” I replied.
“There’s nothing wrong with needing assistance, Elizabeth. That is what I’m here for.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t change the fact.”
“Maybe not. The important part is that you’ve reached this point of necessity. How you got there is irrelevant.”
“And how am I to stay here?” I asked. For a moment, I didn’t think Cameron had an answer. His pause was an unmistakable sign he had been caught off guard.
“Simple: we cannot allow you to regress.”
“But isn’t regression moving toward past behavior? Isn’t that the lesson?” I bolted up from the seat and raised my hand to my temple. “How can you say I can’t regress while actively guiding me toward becoming who I used to be?”
“You’re feeling conflicted. Why?” Cameron tilted his head, uncrossed his legs, and leaned forward.
“I don’t-” In attempting to gather my thoughts, I became more and more frustrated. Each time I attempted to formulate a sentence, the words became jumbled on my tongue.
“Elizabeth, when you were in Majestic, you were focused on a single goal: domination. When you were in Girl Power Wrestling, you were focused on a single goal: domination. It is only when you focus on that singular goal that you can address you personal failings.”
“I am-”
“No.” Cameron raised his finger and waved it, “You have been focused on everything but.” He stood and moved to his desk. “While your mind is scattered, as yours is, you cannot evolve. You will always be reaching for the intangible.” Cameron shook his head and sat down on his desk.
“But I’m there. Did you not you hear me last Breakthrough? I need to know the next step!” Another flash of rage found itself inside my head, I couldn’t understand why Cameron was still obsessed with his previous point. The lesson had been learned. I needed to know what was next.
“I heard you, but you weren’t convinced. Elizabeth, you can fool these people, but you cannot fool me.”
“Cameron, what is next?” I clenched my fist.
“Do you remember when you adopted the moniker of Datura?”
“I…” In truth, I had all but forgotten. I reached for the reason, but I simply couldn’t grasp it. As I tried, events began muddying and mixing in my head, and a sense of uneasiness gathered in my throat.
“It was before you entered Majestic Wrestling. After our final day of training, you went out into the garden and picked the seeds…” His voice faded. The room began to feel smaller and the light coming in from the window retracted in on itself. I blinked several times and squinted, trying to shake the tricks from my vision. For some reason, I could remember the fever and the sweats, sitting alone behind Cameron’s compound until dawn. The shadows, the lights, and the fixtures of hell dancing in my peripherals. Now, anxiety churned in my stomach as the storm had only days before.
“You come from a fever dream, devoid of any connection to the people around you.” Cameron’s room flickered. I took a deep breath inward upon his last word and bolted up, eyes widened by the realization.
“The tea…” He raised his hand again to stop me from finishing. He stood from his seat and stroked my cheek with his left hand.
“I need you to remember where you came from.” He strolled to his desk and unlocked each of the drawers before grabbing his bag. “It was not your parents who birthed you. Elizabeth, until you remember that, I cannot help you.”
“Cam-” I swallowed air, unable to complete the final syllable. I attempted to stand but my legs felt separate from my body. Rather than fight the feeling, I turned and laid back onto the armrest, staring at the ceiling that manifested swirling lines and patterns.
He responded with a snap of the lock.
---
“I feel as though we’re repeating ourselves.” Elizabeth smiles, her back pressed to a large oak tree. Behind her, a lush landscape filled with various flowers and plants dangle, contrasted by the black sky. Through the stalks, the stars flicker and shine against the night. “On the last Breakthrough, I had the unfortunate task of ruining Maxwell Soloke’s return to Visionaries of Wrestling. It was a task I took no pleasure in, let me assure you.” She sniffled, rubbing her nose with the sleeve of her hoodie.
“This week, however, I’ve found myself anticipating our rematch of sorts. This time, instead of Patrick Jones in the far corner, Maxwell and I must deal with both Craig Anderson and Talon. Unlike that match, I will find great joy in making you zero for two in your return, Max.” Elizabeth tilted her head and stared out from underneath her hood.
“See, the moment that I realized the brass had removed me from my qualifying match, I promised myself something. I promised myself that I would prove to them that they made an awful misstep in judgement. I promised myself that I would make them regret their second guessing by instilling a certain fear inside them. I promised I would make you suffer.
“It isn’t fair to you, Max, that you have to go through this again. You were oh so close last week to taking another victory away from Patrick Jones. Yet, in your rust-induced stupor, you forgot that there was a third body waiting for the kill. It isn’t your fault. In the heat of the moment, when you were ready to finish the match with the perfect disaster, your lapse in memory presented itself in the worst of ways, When I dropped you into the corner and I hit PJ with the Fever Dream, I saw it in your face as you rolled out of the ring. You had manifested your own destiny. Had it been just you and Patrick, I have no doubt that you would’ve been victorious, but just as those above changed my fate on this pre-show of ours, they changed yours. I must say, though, it was a strange strategy- going into a match with that attitude. It’s not one I see often.” She smirked and rubbed her hands together.
“What I like about you, Maxwell, is that you’re honest. You came into that match, as you said, very likely to lose. The casual defeat in your voice before the match ever happened gave you away to me. Now, there’s nothing to anticipate. Now, all I see is a self-defeating man who knows that he doesn’t have what it takes. Has anything changed from several weeks ago, Max? Has your loss awoken something inside that little brain of yours? I doubt it.
“In truth, I hope that you come much more confident. Perhaps it was the jitters. Perhaps it was the fear that Patrick would be looking for revenge. Oh, Max, I hope you’re looking for revenge. I need you to be less worried of this match than our last. Make this fun for me, please?” Her voice breaks on the last words before collapsing into a fit of giggling.
“And what could be more fun than someone I’ve never seen, Craig?” She waves casually.
“I didn’t forget about you, despite the unnerving feeling that I should have. You and Max are eerily similar, in that way. You both came into Visionaries of Wrestling with stellar histories. The only difference is that Maxwell has been here before. Now, you’re looking for a fresh start in the place where the monsters have all converged. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Craig, but you have two monsters stepping into the ring with you on Sunday.” Again, Datura giggles.
“You could’ve been given a singles match. You could’ve been given Maxwell alone. That would’ve been fun to watch considering your histories! Instead, you’ve been put in the precarious position of obstacle number two…” She trailed off, raising a single pointer finger.
“See, I’m going to make a bold prediction. You are going to fight like it’s the last fight you’ll ever be in. You’re going to put your heart and soul into this match, because Craig, that’s what you do. You’re going to kick, punch, fly, and kick again in an attempt to save yourself from a terrible, terrible end. Do you know what should scare you, Craig? Do you know what should keep you up from now until Fate of the Gods?
It’s the fact that the Xcel Energy Center, you will perform to your very best capabilities. You will rise to the occasion and demand attention with your spectacular display of valor and courage. The terrifying part of all of this is that you will do everything that you body will allow...and you will still fail. Do you know why, Craig? Because I’m not the only monster waiting for you in Minnesota.” Elizabeth’s voice grows less playful now. She reaches up and removes her hood, unmasking her facial features from the shadow.
“Talon, dear, what did we do to deserve this lovely occasion?” She brings her right hand up to scratch her head.
“I’ve been watching you, closely. My run in with the lot of you on Breakthrough wasn’t the first time I’ve seen you up close…” She trails off, reaching down and pulling her knees to her chest.
“I remember, so vividly, watching Nothing Else Matters. You know, I was excited to face your partner Katalina, but this is even more nerve-racking.” She shakes her head in an attempt to gain focus.
“I remember watching Neon take you down with that leaping clothesline and watching you hit the mat. I remember watching Nicole Evans and Gina fight their way through hell in an attempt to break you. I remember watching you force Evans to the mat with an STO.” As she recounts the match, her voice gains more enthusiasm.
“Then I watched as Gina Neon pinned your partner…” Elizabeth tilts her head. “It was obviously a disappointing end to your night, but you displayed an aptitude for violence that I admired then, and I admire now. Our announce team said it best, your offense isn’t to everyone’s cup of tea. You’re not flashy like Craig Anderson. You don’t come from behind like Maxwell. You go to the ring and hurt people without the slightest care of how it looks.
On Breakdown 43, you and Star faced off against Zahara and Katie Moicelle. I anticipated the match. It was The Horsemen’s shot at redemption after a disappointing loss at the Pay-Per-View. Just as you had the previous match, you would carry it with antagonistic glee, or so I thought you would…” Elizabeth balls her fists in frustration.
“Instead, you got caught in a rookie mistake and tumbled out of the ring, leaving Katalina to get pinned for a second time. All of this, of course, led to your match with Joanna, and I won’t even get into that debacle.” Datura turns her head and spits off to the side.
“I bring all of this up because I know now what I didn’t then. I watched someone I admire crack and become fallible. I watched Fury buckle underneath pressure, and I watched someone I thought was invincible falter. I know you are violent. I know that you live to make people suffer, but mindless rage will only get you so far, Talon. I mean it, now even more, because you partner isn’t here to shoulder the blame of another failure,” she scolds.
“I know that you will bring Hell, Talon. That’s what you do. But I ask, as someone who has admired the Horsewomen before they existed as a faction, do not let me be right about you. Do not let me come into the second Fate of the Gods and find an unkempt creature who does not know how to control herself. Do not let me walk out of that match disgusted that I ever dreamed that Talon was someone to be feared.
I have put so much stock into your name that nothing would pain me more than to see you stumble, yet again, despite your promises. Do not break them again, or I will be the one punishing you for your worthless words.” Elizabeth sighs and rubs her neck.
“This match, no matter what version of my opponents I see, will be a battle of epic proportions. I know that; I am no fool. Let me words inspire the three of you tonight. Let these thoughts rattle in your head as nothing else has.
I ask you:
Make me suffer as I never have.
I plead with you:
Make me sorry I ever doubted you.
I beg of you:
Make me understand my errors.
I make this single vow to you:
I know who I am;
I am the earth that quivers under foot,
I am the sky that opens up,
I am the wind the screams,
I am the life that gives and takes.
I know what I must do;
I will dig three holes
and prepare for three funerals.
There is no fury like the earth
and I will give you back to her.