Dirty Needle

She knew things would never change. Mid-day delusions of ending this crippling sanity constantly ran through her mind. But she couldn't do it. Was it cowardice? Was it... not knowing where she would end up if she grabbed that rope... took those pills... borrowed her brother's gun? Heaven or Hell, she didn't believe in any afterlife one way or another. And maybe that was why she couldn't do it. Maybe that's why she knew...

She was stuck in this world...

We'll call her Suzie. A small Minnesota store's co-manager, making barely enough to support herself. Her world was dreary. Boring. Nothing exciting ever happened. The only 'fun' she ever had was when she got home around 8 to watch a certain wrestling show. VoW was full of interesting people; people she wished she could be. People whose lives took different twists and turns and never got boring or tiresome. Even if it was all fake in some way... at least they got to play as someone or something interesting. They weren't stuck stocking shelves, sticking price-tags or dealing with problems like 'This dish soap was $2 less at the store across the street! You should give me a discount!'.

That was why... when she got home after an opening shift and grabbed her mail, only to see a blood red envelope... she accepted what was inside right away. She cut it open, pulled out a note card a little smaller than the envelope (as well as the same color)... and read the words aloud, printed in an elegant gold font: "As a follower on her Twitter, you have been chosen for a 'meet-up' with VoW superstar Cera. She looks forward to your arrival. Details below."

Despite the curt, straight-forward note, Suzie's eyes lit up excitedly. Finally, a chance to do something exciting; a chance to meet someone interesting. Maybe she could convince this female wrestler to take her under her wing. She would go with her to fancy places, hear about her fantastical life. Suzie was sure that Cera, and everyone like her or around her, actually... lived. They had purpose. They were blessed.

And she had the opportunity to follow in their footsteps.

With that goal in mind, a couple days later she stood at the spot she was supposed to be 'picked up' at. According to the letter, she had to be there at no later than 3pm. That point had been underlined and bolded in the letter. She'd showed up about five minutes early, and as she gazed at her smartphone, she noticed the time change from 2:59 to 3:00. At the exact same time, a car drove up in front of her. Suzie blinked and looked at the car cautiously. Considering everything going down in her country right now, she had to be careful. Luckily, when the window rolled down a hand popped up, it was holding out a few papers. She looked them over warily, nodded and got into the car...

After what seemed like forever, Suzie was finally sat down on a rickety wooden chair. It was a dark mahogany, which she could only tell after the blindfold was taken off. She blinked a few times, eyes adjusting to the only light in the room-- the window. There were four chairs, one holding Suzie, two others taken by other people. Another chick (we'll call her Amber)... who looked like the stereotypical punk rocker... and a guy (Hmm... he'll be Ben), who seemed smaller than most men would, and looked like the most average guy in the world. Suzie assumed they'd all been blindfolded before coming here, as they were squinting as well, and she looked around. The room was tiny... with the guests taking up half the room with their chairs. The walls were a light concrete, cracked and a bit messy, and it smelled... metallic. But that was soon mixed with the obvious scent of alcohol...

Silent movement was seen from the side. Adrenaline filled Suzie's bloodstream, jubilation running through her as she saw someone walk smoothly forward. A tall woman, dressed in skin tight leather pants... that looked like they'd been shredded by a wild animal at the thighs and near the bottom of the legs. There was a leather jacket on her shoulders, matching both her pants and fingerless gloves, as well as her boots.

The other three guests eyeballed her with either excitement or curiosity, and tensed when she slowly turned slightly to the side. There was an expensive looking cellphone in her hands, and she glanced away from it's screen for a moment. Those pale eyes trailed between each of them, her ruby lips parting... and as soon as she spoke, Suzie swallowed hard, one thought crossing her mind at this woman's soft yet cold words...

"My my, it looks like someone didn't make it on time..."

I don't like that look in her eyes...





"Fucking fortune cookie wannabe..." I mumbled under my breath, ignoring the eager stares of my guests. My pale eyes trailed over each word my acquaintance Seth Iser had typed, digesting the idea. Before I could respond to the text, however, another popped up....



"Tch..." I shook my head and turned off my cell, frowning in thought. Iser's response was as... vague... as usual. The discussion revolved around the idea of knowing who you're against. Not personally. I don't care about their likes or dislikes. Their favorite food or color. That shit only assists me in verbally desecrating them. Physically, however, moreso involves knowing the kind of person you're against. And... knowing what kind of people are in this world.

Victims, for example.

Glancing back over at those three people, I smirked slightly. Victims... huh? Some beg for their lives. I don't feel bad for them. I never have. I feel more pity for those who stick their chin in the air and pretend to be... unbreakable. Perfection is unreachable, though my fingertips are just brushing it. I know this. I've been broken. I've been torn down. I've been made a fool of. And I've been mentally ripped to shreds. The difference between Stacy Jones and myself?

"I admit it."

My guests looked away from each other, having been conversing curiously, and the one punk chick... Amber... spoke up. "The hell are you talking about?"

"Hm? Oh... I forgot you three were here." I saw them stiffen, and the ghost of a smirk haunted my lips as I fully faced them. Nonchalantly pulling out a cigarette and lighter, I continued slowly, "Does that hurt? Does it sting? How about I pour some salt in your wounds..."

"What're you talking about?! Ain't this a meet and greet kinda thing?!" Amber questioned in bewilderment, as the other two watched. I narrowed my eyes and scoffed...

"Meet-up. Not meet and greet. Do you honestly think I care about greeting you three? Hiya, how are you, here's an autograph. Please. I have more important things to do with my life."

"Then why are we here?" The man, Ben, now spoke up. He looked frustrated. Don't blame him. They'd all assumed I'd gathered them there to spend a day with the oh-so-famous Cera. It's funny... some people play a 'character'. They take up certain personas to make this business more appealing. And everyone assumes that all superstars do this. How amusing... they really had no idea...

"It's a filthy world we live in, my dear." I leaned against the wall, flicking the lighter to light the cig in my hand. After taking a long drag, I blew smoke rings into the air, before lowering my head and chuckling darkly. "People believing whatever they want. For their own selfish reasons or desires. They refuse to look at reality or the facts. I assume the three of you know about... Ferguson."

An audible groan filled the room as Amber rolled her eyes. "I'm so sick of hearing about that."

"Why? You don't like to be up-to-date with what happens in your own fucking country?" I stepped closer to her, the smirk fading. "How ignorant is it to shrug off the shit happening in a city not even a day away by car?!"

"It ain't affecting me, or anyone I know. And there's nothing I can do about it."

"You could raise awareness." Ben suddenly piped up, glaring over at her. "About racial discrimination, police brutality, and so on. This is all because the cops don't know to handle their own power and take advantage of people."

"You've been busted for weed before, haven't you..?"

"..... that doesn't mean anything." He glowered at Amber angrily. "All I'm saying is that instead of ignoring it or bitching about it, people should be doing something about it!"

"Exactly!" I cried out, making my two arguing guests look over, startled. Taking another drag from my cigarette, I let my hand drop and nodded toward Ben. "Action speaks louder than words."

"My thoughts exactly!"

"So what have you done?"

"...what?"

"What have you done?" I asked the question again, and now Amber smirked (which looked slightly grotesque with the piercings in her lip). Now I took a step toward Ben, who seemed to be thinking about how to respond. But I was already on him. "It's... a filthy... world we live in. People who talk big, who spout off about things... who act intelligent or strong to prove their point; they're not helping their cause. You attack people for leaving their animals outside, but never take them in yourself. You criticize people for spending their money on irrelevant things, but you never empty your pockets into that red bucket during the holidays... you believe in a higher power, but tell people to go to hell. Especially if they don't believe what you do."

Ben stared at me for a moment, looking agitated at first, before realization dawned on him and he gazed at me tensely. "How did you..."

"And YOU!" I swiveled slightly to face Amber. Her dark eyes searched me as I spoke icily, "Ignorance is only bliss for an idiot. You wanna know what happens when you ignore knowledge? Ignore the power of it... ignore the strength in it? You lose all credibility. You lose all motivation. And if something happens... and you don't know what to do or what's going on? You could lose your fucking life."

"I was asking you something!" Ben suddenly shouted, interrupting my 'motivational' speech. He got up from his chair and took a step toward me, and I turned right back around and suddenly....

ZZZAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPP!!!

Electricity shot through the poor guy, and he was down and out. Guess I went a little overboard there. Jen liked her voltage high, though. I sighed and placed the taser back into my jacket's pocket, then turned back to a frightened Amber. "The hell...?"

"What?" I blinked, before laughing. "Oh... oh let me guess. You didn't read that thing you signed? You know, the contract you were given before coming here? God, it's just like the terms and conditions... no one fucking reads that shit..."

"You... there was tasering mentioned in the paperwork?!"

"It's even funnier because you all thought you were coming to meet someone famous." A cold grin curled upon my lips, "You were signing a waiver. Saying that no one but yourself is responsible for the injuries you may receive in this paid experimentation."

"Exper- WHAT?!"

"You see, I do so enjoy focusing on my match of the week. I train quite a bit, physically and mentally. But sometimes it's good to get out, stretch your legs. Or your tasers. Whatever."

"You can't do shit like this!" Amber shouted, now standing herself. I lifted an eyebrow. "It's il--"

"Illegal? This signed documentation states otherwise, kid. I obviously am not allowed to kill you, but for Jen's little... 'study'... I can do some menial harm. And all of you were a-okay with that... according to your John Hancocks."

Ohh, she looked pissed. And I was grinning now. I couldn't help it... I fed off this shit. Anger, ignorance... it was so... hilarious. Now she lurched at me, because violence solves everything, and I easily moved away and stuck my 1/4 a cigarette onto the back of her neck. The punk yelped and scrambled to the corner of the room, where I followed and pretty much picked her up and dropped her on her head. After a moment of staring bemusedly down at her, I looked back at my final guest. Suzie.

"Let me guess... you wanna know how I knew?"

"I thought you were friends or something with someone who has government ties?" I must have looked a little stunned, because Suzie smiled sheepishly and explained, "I followed you for nearly your entire career. And paid attention."

"Glad someone made that effort." I paused, before smirking wickedly again. "Now... what to do with you..."

When Suzie shrugged, I glanced at her in irritation. "What?"

"Do whatever. I did read the contract. I know what I'm up against. It's not that scary... because you have no reason to completely maim me, you know?"

"Not that scary, huh..."

"Well, no. You're kind of just like... a bad guy. A Lex Luther to someone else's Superman. I know how you work--"

"You... you're just like her..." I interrupted with a growl, hate lacing my tone. Suzie turned her head slightly, confused.

"Who?"

"Stacy... Jones." I clenched my hands into fists, the two guests laying unconscious on the ground. My eyes never left Suzie's, as she watched me cautiously. My temper was flaring, at the mere thought of my opponent this week. I didn't care about her history, though I still knew it, because as much as she possibly knew... that stupid fucking dyke had no place in the ring with me. Pretending to be stronger than she was. Pretending to hold more power. She played the hero, and I played the villain. And yet somehow... my games always came out more relate-able... if not even more... human...

"You want to know the difference between you and me? Between Stacy and me?" Scowling slightly, I turned away and clasped my hands behind my back. Staring at the blank wall in front of me, I narrowed my glacial eyes, feeling a storm brewing within me. "I'm built for this shit. I may not have conquered my demons... but I sure as hell didn't fall to them!!"

That last part came out a little loud, and I whirled to face Suzie once more. She looked startled, and I almost laughed. She thought everything was sunshine and rainbows. She thought our lives were grand... were something to envy. And that was more funny to me than even Stacy's confident, yet disturbingly passionless views and words. "I've been broken. Lied to. Cheated on. Taken advantage of. I've been miserably, suicidal, homicidal... I've gone hungry at night, have had to go through dumpsters, and have had every single fucking thing I gave two shits about taken away from me!"

There was the slightest break in my voice at the end there, as I shook my head and grabbed Suzie by the shirt. My eyes, I knew, told a story of pain... and triumph. Torture... and redemption. Hate... and so... much... more... hate. She didn't realize who I was. Just like Stacy Jones didn't. She didn't realize what I'd done, and what I would do. Where I'd been, and where I am now. I'd climbed every goddamn metaphorical mountain to get where I was... and Stacy just walked on by. Stacy, when looking at me, saw only the black and white... but missed all the fucking... red.

"My name... has been dragged through the mud time and time again. And each time I pick it up, and wash it off. I'm self-made. And I know that I've come a long way, and still have some ways to go. She... on the other hand... has reached her peak. I'll make sure to prove that, this week..."

Suzie took a step back when I moved forward. My schizophrenia always acted up in these situations, and I assumed it would now... making me see Jones instead of the obsessive, annoying girl in front of me. But nothing changed. I just saw her, with her stoic look. Her simple thoughts. Her ignorance. And swiftly, without a second's doubt, she was put down with a brutal scorpion kick. As she lay there, my manager Jen Ryette came in, wearing a labcoat. She stepped up beside me and looked around, then pulled out a syringe as she spoke.

"I knew she was gonna be a good one."

"She pissed me off."

"Doesn't errything piss ya off, Cera Burr?"

"Nothing more than ignorance..."

"Maybe it ain't everyone else that's ignorant..." Jen murmured, that eerie seriousness suddenly in her voice. She leaned down and used a Q-tip to rub some iodine on the inside elbow of Suzie. She then carefully stuck the needle in and drew blood. I watched grouchily as she pulled away and wrapped the poor girl's arm, then squeezed the blood into a small beaker. As she was doing this, she spoke again, "... you ain't as firm or structured as her, Cera Burr. Not as solid."

"Excuse me?"

"Wat? All I'm sayin' is... you're wayyy more human than Stacy Jones." She smirked slightly at me. "Way more fragile."

Blood now boiling, I whipped my hand out, knocking the now empty syringe out of Jen's hand. It landed on the ground, in a pile of dust and dirt. And Jen looked at me, utterly appalled, as I shook my head and sighed. "The hell am I doing..."

"Bein' a jerk, that's wat!!" She mumbled the next words under her breath, "I didn't even say any a' that was a bad thing..."

"Whatever. This whole thing was as useless as that dirty needle..."

"Dirty needles can be used ta infect people. Draw things out while also puttin' things in. Like a STD!" She smiled brightly at me, before picking up the fallen syringe excitedly. I watched the moron run out, almost seeing the ideas running rampant through her head, before I rolled my eyes and started out the door myself, heading off for final preparations for Darkest Hour's event.

It is not the strongest or the most intelligent who will survive... but rather, those who can manage change. And Stacy Jones will always remain a constant, yet yielding, force...

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~This has been a V rp, thanx for reading and have a great f*cking day!~