Inaugural Impact Trophy

[Kas]

Gwen Blair In: One Small Step, One Giant Leap.

~~~Madison, Connecticut - 1st December 2018~~~~



It’s no use pretending to be cool, calm and collected. I’ve known Dad for a few years now, and even now, he can see right through me, even if he’s only got one eye. Mom was a lot easier to fool, mostly because she was so self-absorbed that me having thoughts and feelings was an alien concept. So long as I told her everything that she wanted to hear, acted the way she wanted me to, I could get away with murder. And the least said about step-Arthur, the better.


So instead of preparing to spout my lines like a parrot, I’m shifting from foot to foot with nervous energy as I try to think of the absolute best way to phrase this so that I don’t get shot down straight away.


It’s been hard to try and find a moment to talk to Dad alone. He’s been out and about with Chris, trying to stop him from self-destructing in some way, shape or form. And now he’s off to Global Championship Wrestling, to get in the ring again himself, as well as look after Chris.


He’s going to have a fit about this, I just know it.


“Lurking behind the door ain’t going to do you much good, sweetheart,” and the sound of his voice makes me both try and shift in place, and freeze at the same time, with the net result of me falling shoulder first into the nearest wall.


“Ow.”


I rub my shoulder, feeling the sting of the impact. I’m usually a lot more graceful about things, but with this decision weighing on my mind, I feel like I’m all fingers and thumbs, and with all the grace of a day old foal. But the pain has temporarily shocked the indecision out of my mind, and since he already knows I’m here (how?), I take advantage, open the door and step inside.


Dad is in the middle of packing a suitcase, ready for his hotel stay. Well, I call it a suitcase, it’s closer to a bug-out bag. Thank god he’s driving, because the TSA would have a flaming fit if they x-rayed it. You can take a Marine out of the USMC, but you can’t take the USMC out of the Marine? Something like that.


“You alright?” he asks, looking up from counting the contents of a small box.


“Fine,” I tell him. “Got a moment?”


“As many as you need, sweetheart. What’s on your mind?” and he sets the box down and focuses directly on me with his one eye. The scars around his other are looking better today, less red and swollen. Whatever goop Lindsay cooked up must be working a treat. But focusing on my Dad’s missing eye is just my brain trying to distract me with trivia, so I try to focus.


Only I’ve forgotten the damn speech that I’m supposed to be making.


And for once, Dad doesn’t seem to be able to read my mind and pull it out of me with that disconcerting ease. He simply just watches me, and I still can’t remember the words that I wanted to say. So in the end, I settle for just blurting out the meat of the matter.


“I want to wrestle professionally again.”


You can literally see the moment that my words are processed by his brain. His face closes off, and his eye turns hard. But Dad is never one to speak his immediate mind, and his silence gives me the chance to explain.


“I’m not the naive woman I was when I went to Next Gen,” I tell him. “I watch things, and I learn. I know how...twisted, things can get. And you and Chris made sure to knock the arrogance out of me when I started to believe the hype. I’m not going to forget that in a hurry.”


I won a title when I competed in Next Gen. I thought I was the best thing since sliced bread. Dad and Chris arranged things so I honestly thought that I’d killed Chris, especially when the blood came out of his mouth. Knocked sense into me in a hurry, and I didn’t even care that it was a set up. It was the wake up call I needed, and I surely won’t be getting into that mindset again. And if ever do, I know I have good people looking out for me, ready to punch me in the ego.


“But I want another chance. I want to chance to make my own mark, to bring a little spot of brightness into somewhere. Give people a reason to cheer, a reason to feel good. And I could go to GCW with you and Chris, but I can’t be hanging onto your coattails all the way. Gotta step out of the shadows and prove myself.”


I cut myself off before all my explanations turn into babbling, and wait for his verdict.


I nearly fall over from the shock when the ice cracks, and he smiles at me.  


“Can’t say I’m happy about the thought of you stepping into a nest of vipers, but gotta say, hell of a way to make your pitch,” he sighs. “Never feel like you have to ask permission for something you’ve your heart set on. Iff’n your heart’s in this, then I’ll back you to the hilt. Just be sure that it’s what you want.”


“I’ve been thinking about this for weeks,” I confess to him, sitting on the edge of his bed now that I’m sure that I’m not going to be thrown out. “Hearing that you and Chris have signed up just set a match to the fire.”


“Picked somewhere you want to go?”


“Not yet. I was actually hoping that you and the others would help me out with that. You’re probably better suited to pick out pitfalls and problems than I am.”


He tousles my hair with a gentle hand. “We’ll give it a look,” and his accent slides seamlessly into the broad Texan that he does so well. “Reckon we’ll get you squared away.”


And at that moment, with Dad’s backing, I feel that I can do anything.


“One thing though,” he adds, and I can almost feel my blood chilling in my veins. “You get to tell the rest of the family.”


Oh.


Bugger.




~~~Madison, Connecticut - 31st December 2018~~~~


It’s times like these that I’m so glad that most of the family don’t check their Twitter accounts. I thought I had till the 2nd of January for my big reveal, when the card was released officially when Mr Schmidt took control. Only someone at EMERGE headquarters had other plans, and the cat was out of the bag, so to speak.


I'd spent most of New Years Eve as jumpy as a cat in a rocking chair factory, trying not to wince at every notification. And since it was New Years Eve, there were a lot of notifications to deal with.


On the plus side, it meant that I didn't have the braincells to focus on the fact that this was real, this was happening, and I was having my first match in EMERGE in less than a week. Otherwise I think that I would have spent the day up in the roof, or in the bathroom having a nervous breakdown.


But the Goddess must have been watching out for me, and no-one seemed to have a clue as to what I was plotting. Or at least no one was asking awkward questions. Yet.


It was about quarter to midnight, and the alcohol had been flowing freely. The lights were out,  and only the glow of the Christmas tree lit the room. Lindsay had taken up residence in the love seat next to the tree, and her shadow was lurking behind her. She'd been experimenting with making her own cocktails (which I had sampled one of and then sworn off) and was quite merry. Special occasion, she had whispered as we had passed on a bathroom break.


Dad was in the leather recliner on the other side of the tree, glass of whiskey in his hand, and a empty bottle by his feet. He had unwound enough to take his eye patch off, but had refused to wear the sparkly monstrosity of a sweater that Chris had tried to force on him.


Josh was next to Dad, helping him deplete the whiskey stock in the house. He was wearing the discarded sweater as a hat, and showed no signs of wanting to take it off.  


On Lindsay's other side was Mark, sprawled out full length on a couch, beer bottle in hand, and a bunch of empties surrounding him like a chalk outline. For once he wasn’t scowling, but his language was just as blue as ever.  


Beside Mark was Chris, ensconced flat on his back on a beanbag, with his feet up on the arm of Mark’s couch. I was fairly sure that Chris was far less drunk than he was pretending to be, but I couldn’t figure out why. Drunk or sober, he was the amicable sort.


And then there was me, completing the circle with my bottle of something sweet and pink. Non-alcoholic, and Dad had vowed wrath on anyone who thought that spiking my stash would be a funny idea (he was looking at Mark at the time.) It was nice to have someone swearing wrath on my behalf, but that was what the airhorn in my wardrobe was for.


We’d just finished watching something new, cheesy and cheerful on Netflix, had finished debating the merits of my Dad in a red leather coat instead of his usual black, and conversation had wandered off in other directions. Considering that we’d been talking about red leather, I was quite surprised that it hadn’t taken more of a dirty tone.


I let the conversation wash over me as I finished my bottle and set it down beside my seat. My family. Back when I first met them, I could never have imagined that they’d love me in the way that they did, and that I’d love them too. They’d been nothing but supportive of me as I tried to find my footing in their peculiar world, and put up with my mental earthquakes as I realised that the way that Mom treated me was not the normal. And that while they weren’t normal either, they were a great deal better that Narcissists R’Us and Step-Arthur the Enabler cum flying monkey.


I worried my bottom lip between my teeth, mentally crossing my fingers that this wasn’t going to be the biggest mistake of my life. Getting back into the ring was something that I desperately wanted to do, even if I was nervous about it. Actually getting in the ring and trying to make a career out of it was a dream that I’d not dared to confide to anyone, until now. And even with the support of my Dad, it was still hard to tell my family about my plans.


I didn’t want them to be disappointed in me.


Ten minutes to midnight, and I caught the sideways look that Dad shot at me. He made a subtle motion with his fingers, encouraging me just to come out and say whatever it was I was going to say. Easy for him. But...


I cleared my throat meaningfully, and nearly fell off my chair with nerves as every eye, drunk and sober, turned towards me.


“Before we go into the New Year, I have an announcement to make,” I started. Nice, easy, and probably too formal, but what the hell.


Chris raised his hand as if to ask a question, tilted his head in thought, and then promptly stuck his hand over his mouth.


“No, Chris, I’m not pregnant, running away with the circus, or anything else that you were going to say,” and I couldn’t help but tease him. “But I am...”


I closed my eyes for a second. “Going back into the world of professional wrestling. I’m signed.”


Silence, and I stared at the empty bottles around me, reluctant to look up and see the judgement or condemnation on the faces of my family.


At least, I stared at the bottles for about ten seconds before I was buried in a hug as Josh lurched up off the floor and wrapped his arms around me. While I was being buried in flannel, I felt another pair of arms snaking around my other side, and felt Chris press an affectionate kiss to my hair.


Everything got a little muffled after that, but I heard the tone of Dad drawling something out, and felt the arms loosen so that I could actually hear (and breathe. Flannel is comfortable, but not when it’s marinated in whiskey and sweaty man. But I never turn down hugs.)


I looked up.


Lindsay was smiling at me, her eyes warm with a hint of curiosity. Dad was stoic, but I could see the pride flashing in his grey eyes. Mark was looking curious, and had managed to sit up without dislodging his empties. Josh was still within hugging range, and his fingers were twitching as if they wanted to pull me in again. And all trace of drunkenness had vanished from Chris, and he had a broad grin on his face.


There was not a trace of disappointment to be seen, and that fact hit me in the feelings like an avalanche.


The edges of my eyes started to prickle with the threat of oncoming tears, as my chest tightened, and my heartbeat thundered in my eyes.


“So, what brought this on? Who knew? Where are you going? Who are you signed to? Have you got your first match yet?”


Thank the Goddess for Chris, and his ability to babble on without breathing. He fired off the questions like he was a machine gun, but it gave me the time to push back the tears and breathe, trying to force my brain to accept the fact that I was loved. In between the rapid fire, he winked at me, and I felt my lips curve into an answering, slightly watery, thank you.


“It’s been something that I’ve wanted to do for a while now, and when you and Dad signed to GCW, it lit a fire under me. Dad knew, probably before I even told him. I’m off to Canada, Toronto specifically, I think. And I’ve signed with EMERGE, Supreme Championship Wrestling’s developmental place. And yes. My first match was announced today,” I ticked off all the points on my fingers. “Did I miss anything?”


Lindsay’s fingers were already tapping on her phone. “Battleborn?” she said with amusement, and I felt my cheeks heating up.


“Seemed appropriate,” I told her, and she laughed.


From across the room, Dad raised his glass in a toast to me, just as the clocks started to chime with midnight, alarms on phones started to buzz, and watches began to beep. Chris was still asking questions, Josh had hugged me again, and Mark was loudly talking about how well I would do.


I couldn’t ask for a better start to 2019.

[REC]

Where to start?


I feel like I’m coming into EMERGE as a total newbie. Oh, I’ve wrestled before, in Cartel Next Gen. Admittedly it was only for a month or so, but I was there. I’ve been trained by the various members of my adopted family, and Goddess knows that I’ve watched a hell of a lot of wrestling.


But this is different. This is EMERGE, this is the developmental area of Supreme Championship Wrestling. This is a bigger step than any that I’ve taken before, and when you look at the competition, I might as well be as green as grass for all the difference my experience will make.


And in between bouts of nervousness, I absolutely can’t wait.


At the top, there’s a trophy of some sorts. Then you’ve got eight of us to be whittled down to four, then two, and then one. Looking at it like that, well, it’s enough to give anyone a severe dose of the heebie-jeebies. It’s one heck of a challenge. But instead, let’s break it down.


I have to face off against Maxwell St John.


Go on ahead, find a page that has his stats on it. I’m sure the internet has one out there.


Done that? Right, go and find a page with my stats on it. Pretty sure that one of my uncles has already got a fanpage up, bless his little cotton socks.


Scary stuff, huh?


So let’s break it down even further.


Somewhere out there, there’s a little girl. She has posters on her wall, she’s got a couple of toys that her brother lets her play with. She sees all these wrestlers. They’re smart, they’re gorgeous, they’re talented. Week after week she follows them, and she wants to be them.


But she can’t. She’s got asthma, or she’s got a tricky ankle. She’s got a birthmark on her cheek that gets her mocked. Her mom says that she should be more girly. Her brother makes fun of her. Or her own brain won’t let her believe that she can be better than she is.


And then you have me. I’m not a model. I’m not gracing covers of magazines, plastered on billboards up and down the country. I don’t have my own show, play my own music, or have books out.


My parents are divorced. My mother is a narcissist. I have health issues. I have mental health issues. My current family is about as far from normal as you can get.


I’m no one special.


And I’m not going to say that I’m going to be an inspiration to anyone. I’m not going to be the one that shows that little girl the light.  I’m not going to proclaim myself a savior, an icon, or a goddess. I’m not going to say that I’m going to be the great hope for anyone. I know that I can’t be that.


What I am going to be is a candle. A tiny little light, glowing in the darkness. A spark. A small little ray of hope. Someone that the little girl, or anyone can watch, and for an hour of their life, they can feel a little happier about things. They can get lost in our worlds.


If I lose against Maxwell St John, then I’ll still glow. I still love what I’m doing. I still want to bring that bright spark into people’s lives.


If I win against St John, then I’ll still glow. I’ll keep glowing even as I move on to face whoever the tournament throws against me.


If I lose there, I’ll glow.


If I win there, I’ll glow.


I will always be that candle in the darkness, no matter what EMERGE holds for me. A little ray of hope for people to believe in. A little spark.


I’ll be bright, I’ll be happy, and I’ll do what’s right for me. In the end, I can’t do any more.