Post by synn on Oct 20, 2023 17:44:42 GMT -5
NOVEMBER 20th, 2022
“Make sure you have your boarding pass and never set your bag down, do you understand? Even if you have to use the bathroom, you take it with you…..”
There was never a line at the Alaska Airlines check in. Like the vast and sparsely populated wilderness the name in blue paint represents on the side of the Boeing 757’s, it was a bit of a ghost town.
It was raining in Anchorage, what else was new.
Juniper squirmed like a child on the beach whose overzealous mother was trying to apply too much sun-screen. Her mother, Halina, was looking for any excuse she could to slow the process down. For all she knew, this was the last time she’d see her daughter in the flesh.
“Mom, I’m fine. I’m not a baby.”
“You’re my baby, and you’ll always be.”
“I’m gonna be late.”
She had less than an hour before her flight to the mainland would board, and she would leave Alaska behind—hopefully forever.
“I love you.”
“I love you too, mom.”
The two embraced, and tears filled Halina’s eyes. Her daughter was living her dream, going thousands of miles away to pursue something that she has wanted to do since she knew what it was.
“Be safe…..and if it ever gets too hard, or you ever feel like you can’t do it, you can always come home.”
The two broke off their embrace. Juniper nodded at her mother, and turned her back to head towards the escalators to security. A mixed range of emotions ran through her. She was leaving her mother behind in that dinghy trailer park with her abusive third-husband. She didn’t work, her government checks were late, and Alaska was gearing up for one of its worst winters on record.
Something inside her screamed to turn around. To run back to the woman who had given her life, who had always been her biggest supporter, and hold her tightly. Something inside her was BEGGING.
Something else, however, was pushing her legs to move. This is what she had worked for, dreamed about, obsessed over. She was going to be a professional wrestler. She was scheduled to meet with Victoria Strader in New York City at Massacre, to officially sign her contract and become a member of the promotion she grew up watching.
She got through security with relative ease, and made her way to her gate. She looked around at all of the people in the terminal. She blended into the crowd, and was nothing special in particular. Never had been. As she took a seat at gate B16 she couldn’t help but wonder how many of these people would see her on TV, how many of them would remember that they were in the airport with an OCW legend……..
She giggled sheepishly to herself. “Lets not get too ahead of ourselves” she said under her breath. “We aren’t even there yet.”
As the plane boarded, her stomach began to bother her once more.
Nerves? Probably. Her entire life was about to change. She had never been out of the state of Alaska before, other than to visit her family in Utah, and even then it was for a week, at max. Her phone had Zillow pulled up for god sakes! This was real. All too real. She took a sip of water from her Yeti and swallowed hard.
The flight desk attendant scanned her boarding pass and she walked down the jetway.
As she entered the airplane and looked for her seat, she scanned the letters and numbers above them with darting eyes. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, just sit there with her music on for the entire eight hour plane ride.
As her eyes stopped on the seat that was reserved for her, she paused. There was someone in it. They sat there, a smug look of satisfaction on their face.
“That—that’s my seat……….”
The man didn’t even look at her. He was about to embark on this long journey as well, and he was hunkered down.
“Sir…..”
Her voice was soft.
“My….seat……”
“And what are you gonna do about it? There are plenty of other seats, sit somewhere and leave me alone.”
She inhaled sharply. She began to feel tears well in her eyes. She felt stupid for thinking her journey would be easy, but she hadn’t even gotten off the ground yet and already things were going wrong.
“My…..”
“GO. AWAY.”
The people behind her, trying to get on the plane, were getting frustrated now as well.
“Yeah! Move!”
“I paid for this flight too!”
“Come on lady, we have a line here!”
Bullies, just like at school.
How would she ever make it as a wrestler! Maybe this was a mistake! Maybe this was a sign that this was a mistake!
How would she ever make it as a wrestler! Maybe this was a mistake! Maybe this was a sign that this was a mistake!
MOTHER! MOMMY! MOMMY I WANNA COME HOME!!!!!!!!!!!!
“LADY. MOVE!”
She plopped down in the nearest available seat and began to sob.
Her eye began to twitch. Her fingers shook, but not from anxiety. Her back arched, her toes curled in her dirty Reebok sneakers. Her teeth clenched so tightly she thought they would break. Her breath raced in through the slits in her teeth like a cold arctic breeze………
When she opened her eyes, she felt…….different.
She stood up and took a few steps towards the seat that was supposed to be hers.
“I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO SCRAM—-------HHRRGH”
Her arm shot out like it came from a gun barrel, and her forearm pressed against his larynx. Her eyes pierced through his soul as she stared at the now red faced and flailing man.
She spoke slowly. It was her voice, but she barely recognized it.
“And I told you…..this is my seat.”
The man’s eyes were watering as his face turned purple.
The flight attendants were attempting to pull this rabid animal off but she paid them no mind.
“So what are you going to do about this little conundrum of ours?”
“Gahhh! I’ll move, I’ll move!”
She pulled back her arm and he leaned forward, coughing and gasping.
"Sorry,” she smiled at the attendants. “Misunderstanding.”
They ushered the man to his seat towards the back of the plane, and Juniper sat down. She was still shaking, but her breathing normalized. The attendants brought her her bag from her sobbing seat, and she thanked them. She put the bag in front of her, and unzipped it, looking for some gum or something to help the pressure of takeoff.
The only things in her bag were almonds, a pair of wrestling boots she bought off Craigslist and.......black and white face paint and hair dye?!
She quickly shut the bag.
She quickly shut the bag.
“So where are you going, anyway, miss?” The head flight attendant had witnessed the entire thing.
“Home.” She said with a smirk. “I am going home.”
“I remember Alexandra Calaway. ‘The Hellion’, the bad girl, the toughest female in wrestling, the biggest fabricator in the industry.
Gasps abound.
Did I just say that?!
Believe you me, I just did. But why Synn, why?!
Tell us why!
For those of you who lack basic visual processing skills, let me break it down to brass tacks for you. Alexandra Calaway is perhaps the best saleswoman this business has ever seen! Her product is flying off the shelves! A unique concoction of brash arrogance and slippery snake oil, with a trace delusion. Self confidence sold separately, because we all know that this product she slings like a Canal Street Coach Bag isn’t synonymous with self-confidence. She walks with her shoulders puffed out and a smirk on her face, but inside she is a fragile little girl. A concrete jaw with a Jell-O heart. She can take a beating, she’d be a trophy wife in Washington! But every beating she takes……what happens?
Alexandra makes you think that she gets up, wipes her mouth, and comes back for more. Her social media pictures make her look like a warrior, an inspiration to fighters everywhere……..but let me state what should be obscenely obvious to anyone with eyeballs and retina’s that work just a smidge better than Stevie Wonder’s………Alexandra Calaway has bounced around more than a child who ate too much candy. Can anyone name a company she has anchored, that she has become the face of, that she helped build? Sure, Alexandra has held titles galore and has a trophy case that would make Walter Palmer jealous, but when has she actually been the roots, the lifeblood, the foundation that holds a place together?
The answer………is zero.
Look it up, these are Snapple Facts!
When the going gets tough, Alexandra……..well………gets going.
You have an OCW branded title around your waist, and you defend once every solar eclipse. You may have Britlyn wrapped around your finger, because she’s a clout chaser who would rather have you hoard a championship than go somewhere else to do it. You’re a big name because you’ve been everywhere, not because you have any true merit to speak of. You aren’t a legend, you’re available.
There’s a difference.
Still don’t believe me? Let me break it down to a level you’re capable of understanding.
People are STILL talking about SYNN being the last ever OCW World Champion. People are STILL talking about how I gave Harmon Egan his first (and only) loss of his career. People are STILL talking about how I cashed in on PIC. People are STILL talking about how it took me a mere six months to do something that most spend a career failing to do.
Do you know what else people are chit-chattering about, mmmmm?
People are still talking about, as good as she is–or rather, as good as she so desperately wants us to believe she is–Alexandra Calaway couldn’t beat SYNN.
The last time we faced off, we battled to a draw. I was the OCW World Champion, you were ‘a name from the past’ who was making her return to Strader Inc. after you wore out your welcome wherever the hell you were before (seems to be a trend with you). I was on the top of the world, you were trying to find yours. You brought your A+ game, and I applauded that. You couldn’t have afforded to do anything else. It was your Super Bowl, it was my bye week. You were honored to have earned a draw against me, I cut my wrists in shame. I slipped up, I let you get too close. Not this match, not this time. No pin falls. No submissions. No rules. No excuses. In the place it all began.
This is a bit of a homecoming for me, as it was a Strader who gave me my opportunity to live my dream! Sure, it wasn’t Tamika, but a Strader all the same! Hell, if it wasn’t for that family, I wouldn’t be where I’m at today, and I didn’t have to fuck a family member to do it.
*sharp breath intake*
Oooooo, too soon?
I love the Strader family for that very reason. I have been a wrestling fan since I was a little girl, and now I get to return the favor. It’s painfully clear that the only Strader you love is whatever is left over in the condom.
This match isn’t about wins and losses. It’s about legacy. It’s about OCW…….
*snarl*
I. AM. OCW.
Ally, without me, there wouldn’t be an OCW.
You pickin’ up what I’m putting down? Probably not.
Dig this.
When Marcus Welsh dropped trow and took a hot, steamy dump all over his beloved “OCW”, it hit Tamika hard. She was in the deep end without her floaties, with too much pride to doggy paddle. I suggested a calm, relaxing back-float to take the edge off, but Tamika’s always been a stubborn one………
Anyways…….
She was ready to shut the doors and turn out the lights. Hell it took over a month for Access Denied 2 to air, and even then it was only 16 bit and spent 20 minutes buffering. Tamika had stopped caring. The party was over. OCW was as dead as a crowd during a Calaway match, and it so desperately needed a shot in the arm.
Epinephrine, STAT!
Insert, SYNN.
I went to Tamika and I did all but lick her tits to make sure OCW stayed alive. I was in her office every day. I followed her to her car. Through the grocery store. To the massage parlors. I even stayed in that McDonald’s, even when she left the door open……
You get the gist.
I made it known that this place was special to me. I didn’t want to see it die when there was so much life left to live!
Who do you think put the deal together to keep those neon letters buzzin’? I wanted to keep OCW alive so I did what it took to make sure that happened. Tamika gave ME the keys to the castle. Literally, and figuratively. If I wanted to, I could walk in the front door, sit on the couch, put my feet up on the table and turn on the TV. Maybe even order a pizza!
I had enough respect to at least take my shoes off.
I convinced Tamika to split OCW in two, the Outcasts and the Outsiders. Give Zybala one half to get him to stop choking the chicken to futanari hentai and give him just a tinge of responsibility…….and hey, we need some comic relief in our lives, amirite?
The REAL OCW, the wrestling company and not the Eric Andre Show botched clone job they put on over there, belongs to ME. Without me, there would be no OCW. You wouldn’t be the Anarchy Champion, you’d have a match more than twice a year, and your baby brother would still be in his cum-covered straight jacket (come on, we all know you let him borrow it), and not a champion himself. Without ME, this Pay Per View wouldn’t even be possible. If Outcasts wasn’t as successful as its been, or didn’t exist at all, Alexandra Calaway would be just another filler talent on whatever roster that had a GM willing to put up with her insufferable attitude. I went out and got Britlyn to buy the company, I went out and scouted their staff and their recruits. I put the John Hancock on the set design and color scheme. Britlyn’s name is on the legal documents, but Outcasts real brainchild…..newsflash, it's me.
I carried the OCW World Title over with me, until Brit got too big for her Victoria Secrets and decided to re-brand everything, making a new World Title in the process. I WON that title, too, but I refused to drop the original belt. I refused to re-write history and spit on the accomplishments of everyone in the past who made those three letters mean something. How do I get rewarded for my loyalty? I get stripped of that belt and all but forced out of the company I CREATED.
To think…….Tamika was just going to let it all go.
Alexandra when the shit hit the fan, where were you? You weren’t even on the AD2 card because you saw the writing on the wall and did what you do best………
The only person who pats their own back as much as you do with as little to show for it is Easton Alexander. He ran off to Zenith when he lost to me, a THIRD time, because he couldn’t face his fears. Neither can you, Ally.
You can’t bear the fact that someone out there is better than you. That someone is ME. That person is going to make Strader proud, and there isn’t a goddamn thing your part-time ass can do about it.
You wanna know another lil tidbit, mmmm? Another little mind-fuck that you were too lost in your own ego to consider? You ready? Lean in real close……………..
*wicked smile*
What?! I broke into the PWA offices and stole the belt in order to take a selfie to troll Alexandra?!
No, no, you give me far too much credit!
Strader gave me the keys.
She knows not only how much the OCW/PWA alliance means to me, but how important I am to it. This company died with me hoisting their flag, and now they're born again with me about to do the same. To be forever etched into the annals of OCW history, this story pretty much writes itself. For you, Ally, this is a case of the wrong place at the wrong time. Your words I am sure will be tough, and your case for why you’re going to win will be believable down at the legions post, but if you’ll step off the soapbox for a moment and realize……
You were dead before you began.
I can’t just beat you, I have to destroy you. I have to prove a point that Alexandra Calaway is nothing more than a mere mortal with a God Complex, a very movable force about to be hit with a Category 5 storm she ill prepared for. Better strap down the deck furniture and get your rain boots!
You’re a tough cookie, but when you break off the edges there is that soft goofy center. You’ve experienced pain, heartache, disappointment—hell, you’ve bled more than Red Cross on donation day, but what you’ve never experienced……….
Fear.
You’ve never looked into the eyes of a monster who has no reservations about ending your life. You’ve never looked up from the mat and your eyes were filled with panic. You’ve never genuinely feared for your life in the center of that ring. Why? Well, contracts, television audiences, the law–even. You’ve always known somewhere in the back of that inflated head of yours that if it got too out of hand, someone would stop it.
This isn’t a sanctioned match. This is in a house in the middle of of Cousin-Fuck Texas, and even if someone can hear your screams, they won’t care. Strader gets off on secreacy.
So the answer is, Ally, do YOU have what it takes to end the demon once and for all? Do you have have it takes to kill me inside that ring, to make sure I don’t just answer the ten count but I never get up again. Do you have the stomach to break my bones, rip out my intestines and use them to strangle me, shove a roman candle up my ass and light the match. Do you have the stomach to pick up the pieces of me from the ring, or sweep them into a garbage bag and leave them in a dumpster? You need to look deep down inside and ask yourself that………
Because if you don’t, Ally, I sure as hell will.
I’ll kill your heart, your soul, your pride………
There won’t be a day that goes by when you don’t think about SYNN. Think about this match, about your failures, about how you will never live up to the expectations you set. Not a day will go by when you don’t feel like maybe all that bravado was nothing more than some stomach gas and an unexpectedly wet fart. Not a day goes by when you won’t see clouds even when the brightest sun shines, because you’re the champion of champions who got punked worse than an Ashton Kutcher wet dream. My title is defunct, you hold multiple. You’re like 47 or something, I’ve been in this game for less than a full year. There is no reason in this universe that you shouldn’t squash me like a roach under your boot and move on to the next stepping stone on your path to immortality.
But you haven’t, have you?
Because you can’t, can you?
That is what will haunt you far worse than my ghost. Your own insecurities being put on display like a Powerpoint Presentation…….
Your flaws exposed like a sex tape, in 4K HD for the world to see……
Your epiphany will be when you realize that no matter what you do to me, I’ll smile and ask for more.
Your discovery will be complete when you finally open those baby blues to the FACT that Alexandra Calaway isn’t as good as she says she is, that she isn’t really all that good at all, and that the goddess among mortals went toe to toe with Hades and fell flat on her ass.
Your destruction will be complete when you finally realize that no matter how hard you try……….
YOU.
CAN’T
BEAT
SYNN.
And THAT, Ally, that is true fear.
Your fear is Prego thick, so creamy I can almost taste it.
Maybe when you finally open those eyes and see me standing over your battered carcass holding the belt that I deserve, I’ll lick that fear right off your smug face.
Then proceed to curb stomp.”
3488
You’re a tough cookie, but when you break off the edges there is that soft goofy center. You’ve experienced pain, heartache, disappointment—hell, you’ve bled more than Red Cross on donation day, but what you’ve never experienced……….
Fear.
You’ve never looked into the eyes of a monster who has no reservations about ending your life. You’ve never looked up from the mat and your eyes were filled with panic. You’ve never genuinely feared for your life in the center of that ring. Why? Well, contracts, television audiences, the law–even. You’ve always known somewhere in the back of that inflated head of yours that if it got too out of hand, someone would stop it.
This isn’t a sanctioned match. This is in a house in the middle of of Cousin-Fuck Texas, and even if someone can hear your screams, they won’t care. Strader gets off on secreacy.
So the answer is, Ally, do YOU have what it takes to end the demon once and for all? Do you have have it takes to kill me inside that ring, to make sure I don’t just answer the ten count but I never get up again. Do you have the stomach to break my bones, rip out my intestines and use them to strangle me, shove a roman candle up my ass and light the match. Do you have the stomach to pick up the pieces of me from the ring, or sweep them into a garbage bag and leave them in a dumpster? You need to look deep down inside and ask yourself that………
Because if you don’t, Ally, I sure as hell will.
I’ll kill your heart, your soul, your pride………
There won’t be a day that goes by when you don’t think about SYNN. Think about this match, about your failures, about how you will never live up to the expectations you set. Not a day will go by when you don’t feel like maybe all that bravado was nothing more than some stomach gas and an unexpectedly wet fart. Not a day goes by when you won’t see clouds even when the brightest sun shines, because you’re the champion of champions who got punked worse than an Ashton Kutcher wet dream. My title is defunct, you hold multiple. You’re like 47 or something, I’ve been in this game for less than a full year. There is no reason in this universe that you shouldn’t squash me like a roach under your boot and move on to the next stepping stone on your path to immortality.
But you haven’t, have you?
Because you can’t, can you?
That is what will haunt you far worse than my ghost. Your own insecurities being put on display like a Powerpoint Presentation…….
Your flaws exposed like a sex tape, in 4K HD for the world to see……
Your epiphany will be when you realize that no matter what you do to me, I’ll smile and ask for more.
Your discovery will be complete when you finally open those baby blues to the FACT that Alexandra Calaway isn’t as good as she says she is, that she isn’t really all that good at all, and that the goddess among mortals went toe to toe with Hades and fell flat on her ass.
Your destruction will be complete when you finally realize that no matter how hard you try……….
YOU.
CAN’T
BEAT
SYNN.
And THAT, Ally, that is true fear.
Your fear is Prego thick, so creamy I can almost taste it.
Maybe when you finally open those eyes and see me standing over your battered carcass holding the belt that I deserve, I’ll lick that fear right off your smug face.
Then proceed to curb stomp.”
3488