May 11, 2014

The camera came into focus on the startling floor-to-ceiling view of the Toronto skyline. Dawn was clearly just breaking as the scene remained focused on that for a few moments.



Finally it panned out to reveal Nessa Wall, sitting alone in the middle of an empty room with vaulted ceilings and exposed ductwork. She was facing that spectacular view, and behind her was nothing but darkness. The void was black, pure and absolute, velveteen nothingness surrounding her as she sat cross-legged on the floor. Her feet were bare, hot pink glittery toenails gleaming in the sun as it crept over the horizon although the bottoms were dark with dust. She didn't seem to care.

"I'm home, Chris— this is where it all began. That very first Future Shock video was recorded right here although I had a little bit more furniture then— most of it went into storage when I moved to San Diego last year," she sighed, pulling a sour face, "biggest mistake of my life. The great news is that I never managed to sell the place and the guy who was renting from me for the last year finally decided to move out. Just another great moment in a series of them that life has been kind enough to throw my way lately."

Letting out a soft little laugh, she lifted her hand, tucking her hair behind her ear in a restless gesture that was eerily reminiscent of someone else. "Christopher Kane is a man divided," she made the proclamation in a soft voice, her blue eyes fixed forward on that view, and in turn, on the camera although her gaze was unfocused. "Not that I can truly fault or berate him for that when I just wrestled for FFW just a few hours ago. I can assure you though, when a belt is resting around my waist, that company would be my primary focus. Not making Twitter love connections or jetting off to Frosty Cat Fighting or whatever that other place is called— my first and ONLY priority would be to wearing that belt with pride."

She looked down at her lap for a moment as though collecting her thoughts. "Tonight, we're meeting in front of folks I've seen most of my life— my mailman, the girl who makes my coffee at the Starbucks down the road, people I went to high school with. This can't be easy for you to cope with and I know you've already been warned and laughed it off. You believe you're ready to walk down that ramp and have every single person turn on you for the first time since you started wrestling. It's great that you have that level of confidence but sometimes there's a fine line between that and outright delusion."

Clearing her throat, she reached off camera to pick up a bottle of water that was already opened— half full for the pessimist. Once again, her head lifted; her eyes were steely as she stared forward. "There's no easy way out, Christopher." Her voice dropped to a soft whisper at the end of the sentence while that crooked smirk appeared on her lips for a moment. "There's no short cut here. You get in that ring with me, and you'd better be ready for the fight of your life— and no, I'm not promising outside shenanigans or any other bullshit. No chicken cannons. No magnetic boots. This is simply going to be you and me doing what we came here to do— at least I hope that you came here to wrestle. Otherwise you're far more of a disgrace to that belt than I'd initially believed."

She shrugged, tilting the bottle to her lips and taking a long pull of the cold water. Letting out a satisfied sound, she set it aside and started speaking again. "And I know you don't believe me when I tell you how serious I am right now. I slept on the flight from New Orleans that left an hour after a beat a whiny little attention whore into submission. Unlike you, I'm not foolish enough to act like a frat boy, pull an all-nighter to 'study up', and then fall asleep to miss that big final exam. Sorry, sweetie. I know that being well-rested has its advantages and I honestly appreciate that you were trying to level the playing field because of some perceived advantage you thought you had over me since you didn't wrestle last night—" she waved her hand dismissively. "Quite frankly, every single thing you've done since that belt landed around your waist has annoyed me on some level. Yeah, you heard me. I didn't stutter. I don't give a crap what you've done or who you've beaten or how you're living the dream even though you're still in high school. I don't give a rat's ass how big the stick up your ass is when you're proclaiming yourself to be the greatest Pride Champion SVW has ever seen— I'll be going into that Ultimate X match at Extreme Prejudice regardless of all the proclamations in the world. We both know that's just straw-man bullshit, if I've ever heard it. I can call myself the savior of the Pride Championship and SVW as well, and it wouldn't earn me one speck of credence or respect— nor should it."

She pointed the bottle at the camera, one eyebrow lifting with a bemused expression. "The part that slays me the most is how greedy you are. Well greedy or you lack faith. One or the other. Because let's face it… either you wanted to be in TWO high profile matches come the next Pay-Per-View, or you realized that these were your last moments before you threw your name into the Midas Touch. So which one is it, Chris? Are you greedy?"

She paused for a moment before taking another drink of water, letting out a soft little giggle. "I know it's a little of both because I remember being a foolish kid once. I wasn't much older than you when I arrived in Texas for that job interview with WCWF— huge deal and a three year contract to be part of their media team— I nailed it, naturally. The world was quite literally, my oyster and the first thing I did was got myself mixed up with the wrong person. In a lot of ways, you remind me of him. He was different then— brash and angry, lashing out at the world. Oh but he had talent and the belts kept coming. He held the Hardcore and Internet Championships at the same time and he thought he was the king of the world. He didn't have anything planned out and was content to just ride the waves of success, figuring that the glory was always going to be there. He used to ramble off these long speeches about how much he didn't care about the guys he was facing because it was all a big joke to him. It's always no big deal until you have that first tumble that you never quite see coming until it's too late. Losing the gold sucks... but I don't have to tell you that. You're second-generation, aren't you? Maybe third? I can never keep the bloodlines in your family straight."

She glanced off to the side before letting out a soft sigh. "All bullshit aside, you do remind me of him in those early days and it's a little unsettling. You're the same way he used to be when you brush this all off with nothing more than a casual mention amid your incessant flirting with Katniss or whatever her name is." She rolled her eyes, "act like this is easy-breezy for you and then you contradict yourself with that garbage about not sleeping. You say this is just another match— just another day of the same shit you've been doing for as long as you've been here. In the very next breath you recant that. Don't emulate Brad Jackson, sweetie. That's the worst thing anyone could do."

That smirk was back and this time it lingered. "Next thing we know you'll be writing thousand-word blogs about how jaded you are on this whole business while each word oozes with irony and hypocrisy. The more you don't talk about it, the more I know you care. You know I can see right through this, Chris— you know that I was damned good at my job as a reporter and analyst before I ever laced up my first pair of boots. It's okay to be afraid of what's waiting out there for you tonight. That's the great thing about being young. You have the whole world ahead of you. So when you lose to me tonight, don't sweat it. Just pick yourself up and wait for that next opportunity. Lose your virginity. Hit the DQ for a sundae," she picked up a blue piece of paper off the floor, waving it in front of the camera so that he could see it was a Canadian five-dollar bill. "Your treat's on me tonight, sweetie. I'll buy the consolation ice cream to soothe your wounded pride."

She shrugged her shoulders, folding up the bill before tucking it into her cleavage beneath the tank top she wore. "I could care less how you take any of this. I've been accused of having this massive ego and of being an arrogant bitch more than once. I don't really see self-confidence as being the same thing as conceit but that's just a debate in semantics. You think I'm some raging bitchface who wants nothing more than to break you down on television, and burn up your fantasies with a little ass-kicking truth before we even get there." She nodded, "well okay, maybe the last part is true— I get a little bit of a thrill out of breaking those egos. I really do. Not going to lie. Fact is, I didn't just BUY my way into a title shot. I earned it the hard way which means I have nothing that I need to explain here. I've already paid my dues, Chris. You realize that, right?"

She managed a look that was both annoyed and disdainful, "so you enjoy the rest of your hours before you have to walk down the ramp and face the music— play kissy-face with your girlfriend or Tom Clancy's Clandestine Submarine Whogivesashit or whatever it is that you kids do these days. Whatever you have to do to fill those hours until we meet, Chris. I don't want you freaking out or sweating over this defense. Heavens no. I want you to be as cool as a cucumber. I want you totally stress-free."

She let those words hang for a few seconds before letting out a soft laugh. "Don't worry your little head. I'm fine. I'm still riding the adrenaline buzz of demolishing Hopeless Dawson so while you're wiping clammy hands on your pants I'll be over here, enjoying being back in my hometown… being awesome."

She smirked again, winking. "I didn't set out to be a bitch, you know. It just kinda happened."

Fade out to the AGAINST THE WALL logo before the feed goes dark.