I’m not going to make any excuses. Not like you’d believe them anyway or even understand them. It is what it is. I cost the match and cost Coner a win. It was my mess up and my mistake and I take full responsibility for that. The weird thing is that I don’t know how it happened. I mean I know how a loss happens, that’s common sense. But it’s more involved than that..
It happened again… parts of the match are blank. Just like at RATR, parts were missing. It’s almost like being black out drunk, except I’ve been sober. Maybe I should see a neurologist it’s caused me to make simple mistakes.
I’ve noticed something about myself that I never thought existed, I don’t care what happens to my opponents. Like something flips in my brain like I’ve been triggered in every sense of the word. I didn’t know that my mind was possible to go into a fight or destroy mode. I probably should get counseling after everything that happened…
I’ll be the first to admit I’m not okay. With everything that Jace did? I wanted to kill him. I would have killed him if I could have. The kicker of it all is, I don’t feel guilty about wanting him dead. There’s not an ounce of remorse for the stab wounds I put through him. I sleep peacefully knowing that I caused him pain. The scarier part? Is that I liked it… I used to call Scooter over dramatic for talking about killing people and doing disgusting things and hurting people in such a manner…I couldn’t fathom that type of desire. Is this what bloodlust is? Is that what’s happened? How do I get this removed. This isn’t normal me. But then again what is normal me? I don’t know if I remember that anymore. I don’t know if I care to…
The inside of the factory that Carey bought.
The inside didn’t look anything like what we are used to from the Queen of Epicness. It looked cold and dirty and dingy. It wasn’t some impressive building it was an old factory with a 10 by ten wrestling ring in the center and old blue school mats on the side of the ring. The building looked like a walking tetanus warning. The machinery gone with dark black spots outlined around this building. There are metal steps that lead up to an office floor which have been cleaned. We can tell from the door on the office level that part had been renovated. The white modern art deco door lead to a studio apartment. A black canopy bed with the curtains drawn closed in the corner is a focal point to the modern twist and bare cement walls painted white with black off setting this 20s era vibe. The curtains of the canopy are yanked open causing the occupant to sit up abruptly.
Bobbinette: What the shit?
It’s the queen of epicness. She has a black eye mask on and her hair wrapped in a purple silk bonnet cap. She’s got on a black and white sleep set of a silk baggy button up shirt with matching pajama pants. As she looks to see who disrupted her sleep her eyebrows are already wrinkled with annoyance. Her face slowly changes to one of shock seeing the Hardcore artist Scottywood as the person who woke her up.
Bobbinette: Scooter! You’re alive?
He shrugs his shoulders.
Scottywood: Beats me. But how much did you spend on making this office look like this? Probably the price of a nice funeral for me.
Bobbinette throws back her blankets quickly and gets out of bed. She walks next to her friend in shock. Her brain just registering the words he spoke.
Bobbinette: Wait what?
Scottywood: You’re ranked 18th out of 18. Two dead guys are ranked higher than you. Maybe bringing you back was a mistake.
He ignores her words and walks over to the fridge.
Bobbinette: Dead.. what?
She follows him but as she steps he keeps seeming further away.
Scottywood: Why the hell are you dreaming about me anyways and why are we in a bed room? You better not be doing freaky shit here Carey I am not okay with that.
Bobbinette crosses her arms in front of her and grabs a bathrobe confused.
Bobbinette: So are you dead?
Scottywood: Who the fuck knows. You know what I know? You’re letting that inner darkness out. Your brain shuts off and the violence takes over. Feels amazing doesn’t it?
Bobbinette looks away as she attempts to walk towards him again
Bobbinette: I’m not like you Scooter. I respect the craft of wrestling. I’m not a barbaric brute.
Scottywood: No of course not… you shanked Jace and drove a knife through his hand… that’s all normal for wrestling. I can’t say I’d blame you. he deserves all of it….but Carey what are you doing? You have Conor. Your new best friend.
Bobbinette: Conor… the poor kid. Hes broken.
Scottywood: says the one talking to a dead man. Where the hell is the beer Carey?
Bobbinette: if you’re dead you don’t need alcohol.
He slams the fridge door shut and glares at her.
Scottywood: You expect me to listen to you sober? Didn’t do that before and I’m not about to now.
He seems annoyed by this as Bobbinette circles him, her eyes looking him over.
Bobbinette: So why are you here?
Scottywood: It’s your dream Carey why am I here?
Bobbinette shrugs her shoulders.
Bobbinette: I don’t know… maybe as a coping skill?
Scottywood: wow then things are really bad if you’re using me.
He laughs. Bobbinette appears less than amused.
Bobbinette: So um…
She sits down on her bed, her head feeling dizzy. Her eyes look at the clock not able to make out the numbers.
Bobbinette: Scooter if you’re gone..
Scottywood: I’ve been gone for months. You just have to let go… and murder people. Not Hollywood though… he’s higher ranking than you.
Gasping for air Bobbinette sits up in her bed. She looks around quickly, it’s dark outside. Throwing aside the blankets she looks around the room, it was just a dream. She rubs her eyes as they water a little.
Bobbinette: Well that wasn’t helpful…But Scooter hasn’t been helpful in years..
She says with a sigh.
Bobbinette: I hear the laughter, I hear the joking. I’m not as good as I once was yes I’m aware of that. But the difference is even at my worst I’m still better than half this roster. And people have forgotten that. I had no problem standing jpd multiple times. I would have gone further if it wasn’t for that meddling kid…
She wrinkles her nose at the words that came out of her mouth.
Bobbinette: I’ll worry about the brat who ruined my dreams later. Right now I have to be focused on someone that is a lesser being. When looking through the books of how history decades from now the last thing anybody’s going to want to say is: “oh my God Brian Hollywood was so mawesome.”
She gags. She walks over to a wall with a large oval mirror. She gets closer, inspecting her reflection.
Bobbinette: I am a damn legend. I am a hall of famer. I have gone and come back more times than Hollywood’s ever existed. And I could do it again within the blink of an eye and fans will still cheer for the fact of my return. Let’s be real, if Brian Hollywood disappears and comes back are they going to get a novation like I did? Are they going to care if anyone tried to hurt him like they cared about me? No, because men like Brian Hollywoods are a dime a dozen and I am one of a kind.
She looks over her body her posture changing as she speaks positive to her reflection.
Bobbinette: Brian Hollywood: the walking cliche. Like I know I’m supposed to care about who I am facing. But the only reason he is higher ranking than I is because he didn’t face the opponents and the challenges that I have. Otherwise he’s an insignificant stereotype of wrestling. A paint by numbers entitled rich kid. Pardon me, I have heard this story before and I still don’t care.
She walks away from the mirror through the remodeled office. She takes a few large steps and is In Front of a window overlooking her purchase. She put a wrestling ring for a personal gym in a warehouse in Chicago. Sure the office was heated and the aesthetic of the office turned apartment was warm and inviting. But overlooking the property she purchased, she had the eyes of a dreamer again. She saw memories of the past of working out in a cold warehouse learning the ropes, paying her dues as a green kid.
After her apartment of memories went up in flames it was a spark for a fresh start, almost as if she was being reborn in the flames and blood. This build was a place for her to flourish, for all the pain and grief and trauma to melt away. The past being left behind in the ashes. This was her place of hope of new found self exploration. Chicago has always been a secondary home to her. Now this building was housing the one thing that they couldn’t get rid of, her Hope.
As she listened to the wind blowing through the drafty windows, it pushed against the door to her office. Sure they were remodeling the factory and repairing the windows. In a way this building was like her. It has seen better days and been through a lot. But there is always room for growth and improvement. This is what she was going to do, change and improve. At least that was the goal. The goals were lofty, for this building for herself. But like the building it was “good bones.” The real estate agent told her. Which meant yeah it might look bad but it’s stable and can be whatever you want it to be.
Bobbinette grabbed her phone and opened her messages. Going to “gamer dude.” She writes a message: ‘Hey, thanks for being an amazing partner. I’ll try to be better on my end.” She hit send and slipped her phone in her pocket. She heard the sound of someone running the ropes in the factory causing her to squint. She looked out the window seeing her daughter Majandra doing drills on her own. Bobbinette in her PJ sweatpants exits her office door and joggs down the steps looking over at her daughter. Majandra looks already annoyed and pissed off.
Bobbinette: What’s wrong?
Bobbinette inquired as she wiped her feet on the apron.
Majandra: I don’t know mom… any other huge trauma you want to dump on me to help you prep for a match?
Bobbinette raised an eyebrow.
Bobbinette: If I say no because it’s just Brian Hollywood would that help or make it worse?
Bobbinette attempts to joke. Her daughter runs from one end of the ring to the other. Bobbinette clears her throat seeing the joke didn’t land.
Majandra: oh so you only want to drop Giant news like my grandmother who raised me and was the closest thing to a mom I had for most of my life wanted you to abort me. Did you even think of the mental implications that would have on me? Did you even think for a moment aside from anyone but yourself? No because you don’t think of anyone but yourself. You don’t care if you hurt others but you really make a huge to do if somebody says something that’s offensive to you.
Bobbinette leans against the turnbuckle as she watches her daughter take 4 steps to get across the ring. Bobbinette sighs, shaking her head.
Bobbinette: Okay, I am sorry for that. I was more so trying to put your grandmother in her place and I didn’t think of how that would affect you. It was something I’ve been carrying around for decades. It’s the truth and I’m sorry that it hurt you.
Bobbinette says trying to get her daughter to stop, to no avail. Bobbinette stretches on the ring ropes as she warms up.
Bobbinette: And its three steps total to get to the other side of the ring.
Bobbinette takes the opposite side of the ring and shows the three steps to get from one side of the ring to the other.
Bobbinette: It’s a rhythm. If you’re not doing it in three steps you don’t have the right rhythm in the ring.
Bobbinette thrwe steps going from one side or the ring, grabbing the ropes and turning around before going to the other ropes. Bobbinette moves gracefully as she looks at her daughter.
Bobbinette: Sometimes… hurt people; hurt, people. It’s not an excuse, people suck. I am not proud of hurting you with my words. I’m great at hurting people with my hands and my words.
Majandra watches her mother glide across the ring. Majandra attempts to find her footing taking 4 steps instead of three. Bobbinette sighs and goes to her daughter’s side and puts her arm around her daughter’s shoulder And guides her to take the steps together with Bobbinette along side of her. Majandra seems annoyed by this guidance as after a few moments they are stepping in time together. Bobbinette breathes a sigh of relief.
Majandra: So you stick to teaching wrestling, this is what you’re good at. Being a mom? Not so much. In fact you’re pretty awful at that.
Bobbinette’s face looks as if she had been punched by the words, Majandra’s words cutting feel. She lets go of Majandra and nods her head walking to the diagonal side of the ring.
Bobbinette: Keep going.
She says stoically. Majandra sees her mother’s face and keeps going back and forth as Bobbinette starts running with her daughter. Majandra looks nervous as the two of them cross each other without knocking into each other.
Bobbinette: This is my constant. You’re here in this place in the middle of the night. Why?
She inquired of her daughter.
Majandra: It’s actually six A.M. This is my morning workout. You sleep through it, because you’re a heavy sleeper.
Bobbinette: I’m a heavy sleeper because I’m old, I value my sleep. Because after I wear my body out by being in this ring I require time to recharge.
Majandra: It’s more than that…
Majandra says as she tries to understand her mother.
Bobbinette: My body wears down so I need to sleep. I have had breaks and sprains and contusions and concussions my body has been through hell and back along with vaginally delivering three children. So forgive me if on my free time I sleep. Because when I’m not free I’m prepping for whatever match I have next which unfortunately is Brian Hollywood. Lucky fucking me right?
Majandra: Mom.. are you ok?
Majandra stops running and hds onto the ropes staring at her mother.
Bobbinette: Far from it… the only thing that makes sense is wrestling. So I’ll wrestle Brian as a way to get some clarity.
Bobbinette gets to the ropes and jumps to the outside Apron.
Bobbinette: You can keep running. You need to find that rhythm even without me.
Bobbinette instructions from the outside. She steps back and crosses her arms as she watches her daughter do drills as the two continue in silence.