Post by Tamika Strader on Feb 12, 2022 17:28:17 GMT -5
Nash Motorcycle Repair
Charterhouse Crescent London, Ontario
July 22nd, 2005
Unknown to Scott Nash Strader, on March 20th and March 21st of 1989, his second daughter and his only son were born to him and the now-deceased Lisa Hayes. Scott had met Lisa through his adoptive brother, Andrew Nash, who happened to be dating the beautiful blonde Lisa. Just like the mother of his firstborn child, the big bastard had an affair, but this was his brother (Scott was illegally adopted himself and wouldn’t find out he was the firstborn of William and Hannah Strader until the mid-2000s). He betrayed Andrew, but it takes two to tango, and Lisa was far from innocent and perfect.
Meghan had grown up an only child but always felt a sort of cosmic connection to others, a link telling her there were others like her. On July 22nd, 2005, she met the twins; her baby brother John looked a lot like their father, especially with the icy blue eyes she also had, and her baby sister Tamika who had a few similar features but not quite like John. Still, she looked like the twin’s mom, Lisa Hayes.
Scott had Lisa bring them to a motorcycle shop he had invested in, and he came with Meghan. She was nervous; she somehow knew that she had siblings but never imagined meeting one, let alone two fraternal twins. Meghan didn’t realize how prominent twins were in the family yet. She had one set even though that fact was hidden from the eldest child of Scott Nash. She remembered how shy Tamika was, and it led to some uncomfortable silence at first.
Scott got a call and had to go to an auto body shop to fix a vendor issue. He asked the kids if they wanted to come, but only John seemed interested, so he took him with him on his Harley Davidson Fat Boy, and the girls were left in the office with the secretary (who was also Scott’s girlfriend and future wife, Amy Lee Straten). Cell phones barely played music, browsed the internet, posted pictures of food, and no ass shots, you filthy sluts. Amy would take a picture of the two with the polaroid camera they kept at the shop to take pictures of older replaced parts, etcetera. Scott had found it years later and kept it for himself.
The girls head outside and walk across the street to a Tim Horton’s (armed with a 20 dollar bill Amy gave the girls) and find a spot off in the corner of the ridiculously popular Canadian coffee franchise. Two large English Toffee Cappuccinos (this flavour has been discontinued) and two Honey Crullers pulled tiny bite-size pieces off to eat. Tamika’s eyes light up, and Meghan squints while tilting her head.
“What is it?”
“John makes fun of me for how I eat donuts and pastries, but you do it too!” Tamika says with a big smile as she takes her hot bug with both hands as Meghan does the same, and they laugh.
“You know, when Scott told me I had a brother, it was exciting, but I was ecstatic to learn I had a sister. I always wanted a little sister, but my mom died, and the man I thought was my dad was too busy supporting the household even to date, so this is beyond exciting for me!”
Tamika smiles widely and blushes as she runs her hand through her hair. She takes a little piece off of her donut.
“Johnny-Boy is a great brother; he’s sweet, loyal, and kind, but I don't think it is the same as having a big sister. He’s been one of my best friends, my only friend if I am being honest, but I always hoped I would get to meet you and hoped I would finally be allowed to meet you,” she says with a smile that can light up a room. The twins' mother never hid who their father or sister was from them. Meghan and their dad, however, were never given that option.
Meghan places her hand on her baby sister’s and smiles warmly.
“Meeks, the smart thing to do would be to have some distance, get to know you better. My heart and soul says that I have always known about you and have been waiting for you to be one another’s back up in this crazy family,” she says, truly not realizing how true that would end up being. “I don’t think the old man and John will be back anytime soon. Do you want to go catch a movie?”
Tamika’s eyes light up.
“So, have you seen House of 1000 Corpses?” she asks excitedly.
“Wait, wait, wait… The Devil's Rejects?! I have two opening tickets for tonight; no one wanted to go with me! Let’s go!!!”
A shared love of horror movies would only be the beginning of the Strader Sister bond.
Strader A-Frame Home
Gore Road London, Ontario
October 16, 2006
Meghan sits in the living room of her dad’s A-Frame home, going over paperwork for a title shot at the W4F’s Hardcore championship. Meghan, before she stepped through the ropes as a competitor, she was the manager of her father and really damn good at it.
The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson on a big projection screen TV with the volume turned down listening to FM96 London’s Best Rock. White Zombie’s “Thunderkiss ‘65” was playing, and Meghan was tapping on the coffee table with her pen as she flipped through the before-mentioned paperwork when the house line rang (yeah, home phones were still a thing back then). Meghan sighed, considered letting it ring, considering it was almost 1 AM. Standing up, she walks over beside the TV where a novelty motorcycle phone was sitting and picks it up.
“Hello?”
“Oh, Meggerz, I am glad you picked up!” Tamika exclaims on the other side of the receiver.
“Meeks, slow down; what’s going on?” she asks, worried. This was out of the ordinary for her sister to be calling the house at this time of night.
“I need you to come to get John and me from this house party over off Trafalgar and Hale.”
Meghan’s eyes go wide as that particular area of London wasn’t exactly known as the safest. The local police kept a lot of the violent crime out of the papers and news to not tarnish the clean image of the Forest City.
“Yeah, of course; what’s the address?”
A few moments later, the silver ‘98 Pontiac Trans Am LS1 Corvette-powered-V8 (that now belonged to Vee Strader in 2022) peeled out of the driveway, most likely leaving skid marks. She had changed into a pair of snakeskin boots their dad gave her, fitted blue jeans, a black top and a leather jacket to match. She had no idea what she could be walking into, but he siblings were seventeen, and the kids/teens in that area weren’t known for handing out cotton candy and lemonade under patio lanterns.
She arrived in just under ten minutes due to running lights and driving like an Andretti, which was quite the scene. There was a car on its side, a fire that was miraculously contained to a bit in the front yard of an old brown brick house, but what concerned Meghan was the corrupt law enforcement known as the London Police. To Serve and Protect, but only if it suits them. She parks down the street, deciding to leave the piece she brought with her under the seat.
She walks towards the pigs in blue, and one of them sees her walking towards them.
“Ma’am, we are gonna have to ask to turn around and leave the area. It’s not safe here,” the cop points out, showing the size of his nightstick.
Meghan rolls her eyes, and the cop doesn’t seem overly impressed with that. It’s obvious she doesn’t respect law enforcement, or at least law enforcement in her hometown.
“Tell you what, Constable,” she leans her head forward and squints to read his name tag, “McGavin, you tell me where I can find these two and I will leave this oh so scary and unsafe area,” she says, trying not to roll her eyes holding up a picture of John and Tamika. Meghan had noticed a female officer approaching but paid no heed as she awaited an answer from the constable in front of her.
“All parties here tonight will be spending the night downtown,” he responds in a typical arrogant cop fashion. Meghan held back the urge to slug him but was about to berate him in front of all these people. Sensing this, the female officer interjects quickly.
“McGavin, I got this. Go and finish taking the headcount; the Chief needs the numbers,” Constable Wylie says to the other constable. He grumbles as he walks away. “I apologize for McGavin. He’s over eager.”
Meghan scoffs.
“Yeah, overeager. Sure.”
“We aren’t all bad, Miss Strader.”
“You know who I am?”
“We know everyone related to Scott, miss.”
Meghan nods her head, lifting her brown before shaking her head slightly.
“Of course you do. Where are my little brother and little sister?”
“Well, there is good news and bad news,” the constable responds, waving over to another officer and clicking on her walkie-talkie, “Bring her over here, Hernandez.”
“Her? What about him?” Meghan asks, placing her hands just under her waist on her hips.
“That's the bad news. Your brother is being charged with possession of a deadly weapon.”
Flashes of John showing Meghan the buck knife their dad had given him for being accepted as a prospect at the age of seventeen, which wasn’t an easy feat as most MCs had rules about being Nineteen or older.
The officer walked over with Tamika, and luckily for all of them, as Meghan had her father’s temper, she wasn’t cuffed. Constable Wylie nodded, and Constable Hernandez motioned towards Meghan. Tamika ran over, hugging her big sister tightly.
“Thank you; I didn’t know cops were coming,” Tamika whispered in Meghan’s ear.
“It’s ok. Are you ok?” Meghan whispers back, breaking the hug to look into her green eyes.
Constable Wylie told Meghan where they could pick up John in the morning, and Meghan got her sister home safe. Their bond was even stronger than before.
Sonic Drive-In
North Rancho, Las Vegas NV
February 12th, 2022
Meghan and Tamika Strader sit sideways cross-legged on their motorcycles enjoying Strawberry Cheesecake Shakes and a couple of Frito Burritos each as the sun has started to set, but the hue of lights from Sin City camouflage it. Meghan looks at Tamika, who is staring at the ground in thought. Meghan picks out a small french fry and flicks it at Tamika. It snaps her younger sister out of her trance.
“Hey, that’s sibling abuse,” Tamika says to Meghan and flicks one of her fries, but it pings off Meghan’s forehead. The two laugh. “Bullseye! Jajajaja.”
Meghan raises the right brow, slightly turning her head.
“What? I was laughing in Spanish. Don’t be racist.”
“Would you quit saying that?”
“NEVER!”
Meghan shakes her head. She takes a bite of her Frito Burrito and swallows before talking again because he isn’t a heathen.
“What were you thinking about?”
“I was remembering the time you rescued me when John and I went to that party in London,” she says with a smile. Meghan stops for a second to think about it, and she remembers with a laugh.
“Ahh yeah, when John decided to brandish that buck knife dad gave him.”
Tamika nods, pulling a sip from her very unhealthy drink.
“Right from the very beginning, you have always been there for me, and John too, whenever we needed, wherever we needed you. That kind of loyalty you showed us made me and John feel like we belonged.”
Meghan smiles.
“You two have always belonged and always have. I will always be there for you, Meeks. John? Well, he’ll never let us be there for him, but he knows we would.”
After another few bites of their dinner and they are finished. They hop down from their seated positions and walk to the trash can. Tamika looks up at her big sister.
“Whatever happens on this run are starting to save Victoria, just know I will do whatever you need me to do.”
Meghan puts her hand on Tamika’s shoulder and pulls her into a hug.
“I know, Meeks. I know. Thank you. We’ll save my baby from the affliction, and you know what? We’ll look damn good doing it,” a wink follows her statement. Meghan looks over and see’s an older beat-up ‘75 Cadillac Eldorado, the blue paint fading roll up behind their motorcycles in their Drive-In spot. It’s Harold. The Cowgirls start walking back towards their area.
“Harold, my man. How are the highs and hookers in the area?”
Harold gives his denture enforced pearly white smile.
“It’s Vegas, Mrs. Kalis! They are best!”
“Miss Strader, Harold, since you you refuse to call me Tamika,” she says, followed by a chuckle. Meghan doesn’t make a big deal of it, but not wanting to be called Mrs. Kalis, something wasn’t right, and she would investigate it later.
“It’s not too busy right now; let’s just film here. That good with you, Meeks?”
“Sure. Harold, set up in front of the bikes, ok?”
(On Camera)
Our screens come to life on whatever device we might be watching on. Meghan sits on her blacked-out Harley Davidson Fat Boy on the left side of our screen, and Tamika sits on her blacked-chromed-out Indian Bobber on the right. The sky is dark but illuminated by the Vegas Strip in the background and, of course, the Sonic Drive-In Sign. Tamika sips on her Partially Gelatinated Non-Dairy Gum-Based Beverage while Meghan starts us off.
“OCW universe, I honestly never thought that the Cowgirls From Hell would ride again, let alone in the company that has earned such ire from the industry (which must mean you are the only ones doing it right). Yet, here we are. Six months ago, Tamika and I hung up our wrestling boots with the intent to enjoy retirement and move on to new roles with the business that has given us so many great memories. Sure, not all were great as this is basically Days of Our Lives come to life, but the good definitely outweighs the bad. We even had the opportunity to retire as Tag Team Champions out of Revolution1 Wrestling. My sister here was learning the fine art of scissoring with Samantha Tolson,” the camera pans slightly over to Tamika making a scissor motion with her right hand, “and I was returning to what I started as in the business, a manager. Still, instead of our dad, it was for my firstborn who to this day is proving she very well could be the best of all of us.”
Meghan looks to Tamika and nods.
“Anyone that knows Meggers and me, we weren’t anywhere near satisfied with how it ended,” she says, hiding the real reason they have returned to active competition, “I mean, Revo1 couldn’t even find us opponents to defend our tag team titles. We even tried to suggest ideas, but all they did was split us into different brands and any team that would have given us a real fight was given the same treatment of split brands, yet only the tag team champions could be on different brands not challenging teams. It made zero sense, and instead of eventually getting screwed over by whoever they wanted to put those straps, we decided we rather just retire.”
“But that just wasn’t good enough. So here we are.”
Tamika looks back over at her big sister. Meghan slides a cancer stick out of her soft pack of Marlboro Reds, lights up and exhales through her nostrils.
“I saw an opportunity. I know my daughter Victoria is gone, but that doesn’t change that Veronica is also my baby girl. I knew she would think we were up to something and would do whatever she could to stop her aunt and me from becoming Strong and Proud, so when it became general knowledge that Zybala was now owner, we knew OCW was going to need money. Trust me, after getting puked on in an Outsiders match and seeing their set up; we knew he didn’t have the money to keep OCW afloat.”
“And we have more money than we can count. Seriously, it drives our accountants crazy, so we decided to fund OCW for as long as need be. Now as generous as we are, we have ulterior motives.”
GASP! ULTERIOR MOTIVES?!?!
“One, I hope it shows my niece how much her mom loves her. Two, it keeps the best promotion in the game today afloat. Three, we have a place to have one last run that will actually test our abilities and skills. And last, but not at all least… the OCW Tag Team Championships.”
“Dan, Chris... How you Boiz been?”
“But we aren’t entitled knobs like the shithead Gideon’s of professional wrestling, and we want to actually earn our accolades, not pay money for them, but give our blood, sweat and tears. So that brings us to Vortex and Debris, Tornado Alley.”
Meghan sneers as Tamika goes back to her Partially Gelatinated Non-Dairy Gum-Based Beverage.
“We don’t know who you are, nor do we even give a flying fuck. We just know you are the first team that is going to learn what it means when we say ‘We Are Taking Over This Town’ and why CFH are three of the most feared initials in the sport of tag team wrestling.”
Meghan doesn’t even need to look at Tamika, nor does Tamika need to look at Meghan. They speak in unison.
“Shhh… do you hear that?”
The Strader women fire up their motorcycles as the scene fades to the Massacre logo as the sound of hoofbeats penetrates the sound of their motorcycles.
