anything could happen.

[chaos lite]

that was the year
i knew the panic was over
yes since we found out
since we found out
that anything could happen…

sep.18.twelve

The scene opens up to a unique shot featuring Aubrey J. Parker with her skin kissed by the golden-orange sunset, standing behind the picture window of her living room, which overlooks the woodlands of Pleasanton, California. To say she was upset would be to understate the entire situation.

To say she was devastated? Well, we’re getting warmer.

”I messed up. There’s nothing I can say for myself. It is what it is.”

Aubrey J. Parker delicately moves one hand onto her arm, squeezing her own wrist as if the action would resolve something.

”Like, how hard is it to follow simple directions? He told me not to get involved and I did. I couldn’t help myself. Every time I saw the opportunity I got involved. He ignored it at first, but I could tell how frustrated he was getting. I cost Logan that match, and I knew I was doing it.”

The other person in question is Cassandra McPherson, who offers her longtime friend an engaging smile.

”You’re so damn handsy, Aubs. I knew it was going to get you in trouble sooner or later.”

”It got Logan into trouble.”

”Logan’s a big boy. I don’t think his definition of ‘trouble’ is the same as yours. And if you’re so worried about it, why don’t you return his calls?”

Aubrey scoffs and turns away from the window, shaking her head quickly at Cassandra.

”And say what? God—he’s going to be pissed.”

”How many times has he been pissed at you before?”

”Never. He never had a right to. But now--?”

”Now you have a match against Tommy Bartlett you need to focus on. You win and you get a shot at the North American Title. Sorry to say it bitch, but Logan can’t hold your hand on the way to that one. You have to beat Bartlett, then beat Lively—and everybody else involved--all by yourself.”

She gives Parker a quick wink in an attempt to ease her slightly younger friend’s nerves, but the attempt is futile, evidenced by Parker’s sudden jolt as the doorbell rings.

”Ugh… Jehovah’s Witnesses.”

”Oh Jesus. Is it that time of year again?”

Parker groans weakly and stalks her way over to the leather couch, letting herself fall lazily onto it horizontally, dramatically throwing a hand over her eyes. Cassandra laughs a little and crosses her arms.

”I suppose you want me to--?”

”If you could be so kind.”

Cassandra rolls her eyes, though continues to smile as she exits the living room. Aubrey watches her disappear down the hallway toward the front door and within seconds she can hear a man’s voice. It’s a common routine; shortly after dinnertime, one or two of these people throwing God into Parker’s face would stumble onto her porch. Sometimes it was a couple of young boys from the Church of Latter-Day Saints. Sometimes she couldn’t even decipher which religion they were.

However, soon Aubrey hears the door close. That had been too quick.

”…Cass?”

Aubrey listens and hears two pairs of footsteps, one pair behind the other. She jerks upright on the couch and looks into the hallway. Cassandra pops into view with a broad grin on her face—and only two paces behind stands Logan Alexander, who looks as calm and collected as always.

”Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

Instantly, Parker’s eyes grow large and she pushes herself to the edge of the couch.

”I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Logan's expression doesn't waver.

"Are you now?"

There's a note of amusement in Logan's voice as he speaks, but his face shows none of it.

"You..."

Aubrey trails off momentarily to collect her thoughts, her eyes threatening to swell with tears though her voice wouldn't suggest such.

"You told me not to get involved and I did. I messed everything up for you out there. I don't want you to think I can't deal with wrestling-- I can't apologize enough!"

She’s halted by Logan raising a single hand.

"Now... stop right there and hang onto that thought. I'm disappointed in what you did during my match at Meltdown. It's makes me think that you believed that I couldn't get the job done on my own. Then to compound your mistake, it happened that the momentum only swung one way during the match, so everything you did was pointless.

He lowers his hand and regards her quietly for several moments.

"So, what would you like to add to that?"

Aubrey looks at Logan momentarily and then turns to Cassandra, reaching for any applicable advice, but she finds nothing. Cassandra can only give her friend a very unhelpful shrug, leaving Aubrey’s gaze to fall upon Logan once more.

”I don’t know. I wish I could take it back—but I can’t. I thought I was doing something out there. I guess I just needed that…”

She sighs and leans back on her couch, rubbing her eyes due to stress.

”Just needed that spotlight or something. It was totally stupid.”

"All right. I'm glad you realize that. It was a mistake, but now you'll learn from it."

Logan walks over to the couch and takes a seat there beside Aubrey.

"As I said, I was disappointed, but I'm not upset with you."

He looks over at Aubrey.

"Ultimately, the failure in that match is mine to bear alone. So you should not let that weigh on your thoughts, especially this week."

"Bartlett. Right, right. Lively's right-hand man. I'll be lucky if I even make it to the match without getting crippled in the parking lot or the hallway or something."

She frowns and leans forward again, looking straight ahead as opposed to Logan, not wanting to show him any of the negative emotions crossing her face.

"I deserve that though. I screw up everybody else's matches, so why should I have a free pass to a clean match against Barlett, eh?"

Logan reaches over to Aubrey and grabs hold of her ear, giving it a bit of a pinch and a pull.

"OW! What the hell are you doing?!"

"Doing for you what others should have done for me when I got moody over a mistake I'd made."

Logan smiles slightly at Aubrey.

"Just a few weeks ago we were discussing a possibility just like this one coming up. And now that you've had the opportunity placed in front of you, you're sitting here sounding like you're ready to just casually toss it aside. You deserve to have this taken away from you?"

He pauses for a moments.

"I wouldn't be doing my job as your friend and as your tag team partner by not pointing out that you do deserve this kind of opportunity, because I know you can win this match and beyond that I know that when it comes down to it, you'll be able to give Lively and anyone else on Meltdown one heck of a fight for the North American title."

For a few seconds, Aubrey sets in silence. She smiles fondly at Logan’s comments, but still doesn’t face him. By this time, Cassandra pushes herself up, excusing herself from the room as her phone begins to vibrate, seemingly violent due to its position on the glass end table. Parker’s eyes follow her blankly until she disappears into the hallway and then she finally speaks after a slight chuckle.

”Hey now, I may have said I don’t deserve a fair fight but I never said I couldn’t do it. Bartlett has two things over me; strength-in-numbers and something that I creatively refer to as ‘ruthless aggression’.”

She finally turns back to Logan and offers a wink in reference to the last statement.

”Bartlett’s willing to do whatever it takes to win a match, but if he has his way, he doesn’t get the chance to face an opponent at one-hundred percent. Look at the shit he pulled with Andrews last week. What was that? I can’t respect it… And I don’t plan on giving him that kind of an opportunity with me.”

"Neither do I, but I fully expect Lively's grunts to try and do a better job than last week. They failed to take out three different people with sneak attacks. I'm going to have your back all night, but during the match... that is going to be your place to take care of business. I don't want to be trying to help you for the right reasons and end up costing you this chance for One Night in Hell."

Aubrey's smile fades despite her feeble attempt at maintaining the cool facade. Although Logan's words contained no malice, the point was there: Logan Alexander would exceed where Aubrey J. Parker fell short. He would play the pivotal role of "man in the corner" whereas Parker had lunged for the spotlight in that role-- and missed.

"Guess you're a little smarter than I am."

"Maybe. But when you end up with a championship around your waist, I don't want anyone to be able to come up to you and say that it's only because of Logan Alexander."

He smiles at Aubrey.

"I fell short last week. Now it's your time to rise."

~ ~ ~

sep.21.twelve.

Our next shot is of the sun, simply a yellow ball at this point in the evening as seen from the hotel of the Lilla Radmannen in Vasastan, in central Stockholm, Sweden. The entire sky is illuminated a deep shade of red on this Friday evening, but that’s not our focus…

The camera pans downward to show the large balcony of the loft-like suite of the Lilla Radmannen, revealing Aubrey J. Parker seated in one of the chairs provided, a violet-colored Macbook placed on top of the roundtable. Cassandra McPherson sits on the other side, her sunglasses resting less than securely on the bridge of her nose and a cigarette resting between her index and middle fingers. While Aubrey looks tense and her eyes remain glued to the screen of the computer, Cassandra looks more relaxed and more at ease than we’ve seen the carefree twenty-something yet. Her feet rest comfortably on the table-top, right next to a wine glass which is full to the brim and a wine bottle, which is already half-empty.

”Are you still Facebook creeping?”

”No…”

Aubrey’s words are as blank as her expression is focused. She scrolls down on the page, mumbling something to herself under her breath as she reads the text aloud. Cassandra pushes her sunglasses up a bit higher on her nose and tilts her head, looking at Aubrey curiously.

”Is everything okay?”

Aubrey laughs a little bit but never looks back up from the screen.

”Is everything okay with you? Ya sound a little tipsy.”

”I’m doing what we planned on doing, bitch; pre-gaming! I didn’t come with you all the way to Sweden to watch you watch Logan go stir the pot on Overdrive. We came here to find some beautiful, beautiful Swedish boys and take them home with us.”

Cassandra giggles at the last part of this statement, hoping that it’ll be enough to garner Aubrey’s attention. Aubrey smiles faintly at the prospect, but as expected, never pulls herself away from the Macbook’s screen.

”Ha.”

Cassandra rolls her eyes, barely visible behind the shades.

”What are you doing?”

”Reading.”

”Reading WHAT?”

”Have you logged onto the APW website at any point today, Cass?”

”No, why?”

”I’ll read you one of the latest articles.”

Cassandra sighs and pulls her feet from the tabletop. She reaches for her wine glass and brings it to her lips, motioning for Aubrey to continue.

”It’s entitled, ‘Meltdown Megastar Released.’”

Cassandra pauses mid-sip, but simply laughs a second later and offers a slight shrug.

”Are you the Meltdown Megastar that’s getting released?”

”Nope.”

”Then what’s the problem?”

AJP finally glances up and locks eyes with Cassandra. It’s hard to tell exactly what’s running through McPherson’s mind—Aubrey takes note of how difficult it is to see any sort of emotion there may be behind those frames.

”I’ll read you the problem… Due to an incident at a APW Meltdown House Show Thursday evening. APW is officially reporting the release of Tommy Bartlett. We wish Tommy Bartlett the best in future endeavors.”

With that, she closes the laptop and raises her eyes to meet Cassandra’s again.

”O…Kay… So what does that mean for y--?”

”I have no idea. I’m supposed to face him this week for my chance to compete for the North American Title. Maybe that means I’m shit outta luck just like he’s shit out of employment. Story of my life, right?”

”Hey, maybe you’ll get a bye!”

”A ‘bye’ my ass. If Logan’s taught me anything, it’s that nothing in this business is ever what it appears. I can’t be certain that this guy’s really gone… And I’ve had my guard up all week in case he or Lively try to pull anything, like they’re so accustomed to doing. This is the perfect excuse for me to let it down and relax. It’s a really dangerous time to be Aubrey J. Parker.”

Aubrey laughs lightly, but Cassandra is able to note the utter lack of humor in her voice. The laugh is dry and perhaps even nervous.

”…And let’s suppose he really is gone, and Diamond wants a match to fill up space for the evening—what’s to stop him from making me face Michael Lively himself to earn my spot? He’s had a lot to say this week, so do you think it’d be too farfetched?

“He could swap Bartlett out and throw anybody in there. It could be Lively, it could be Sabur, it could be one of these new kids like Shanell, or it could be James Noir… It could be Logan.”

Aubrey has to say that last part aloud once more, just to remind herself of how plausible such an encounter really is.

”It could be Logan.”

There’s silence between the girls and the only audible sound is the delicate whisper of the wind. The feeling of the wind chill is like a gentle nudge—a reminder for Parker to pour wine into her glass until it is half-full. She raises it to her lips and happily eliminates half of its contents.

If she was with Logan, or if she was spending a week in Toronto to train with him, she’d never get that opportunity. Having a house party as she had before her first match in the company, or traveling behind him to Sweden just to get away from the bustle of the city and the responsibilities of the proverbial home front with every intention of meeting some— as Cassandra had put it— beautiful, beautiful Swedish boy, would never be feasible. It wasn’t as if Logan had actively restricted her, but Parker was managing to convince herself in this instance that he was. As she downs the rest of the wine, she tries her damndest to convince herself that Logan was trying to hold her back, just to put herself in the proper mindset. Just in case the billing on the card indeed does change from ‘Aubrey J. Parker vs Tommy Bartlett’ to ‘Aubrey J. Parker vs Logan Alexander.’

However, she sighs, realizing how futile her efforts are.

”I don’t know if I could bring myself to face Logan if it came down to it. The anger isn’t there. There’s no reason-- If I were up against him, I’m not sure if the hunger would be there.”

”Don’t think about it then.”

”Then what do I think about? What do I prepare for? Bartlett’s gone. I don’t know anything about Shanell or this Noir guy, or Mr. Dangerous if it comes down to it. I’ve never faced Lively—I don’t know what’s going to happen to me out there. I’m going to step out into Boise on Monday night and I’m not going to have any clue what to expect. On one hand it scares me, but on the other hand, it pisses me off.

“I know I deserve this shot more than Shadow or Krunk. Shadow’s head isn’t even in the game half the time, and when it is his words are boring. There’s no conviction. He’s nobody, Cass, and I’m a better performer than Krunk. I talk better than him, I wrestle better, and I look better. The North American Title would look much better around my waist.

“Neither one of them won last week. Both of them lost, and even though they’re facing each other this week, they both get the opportunity to fight for that title. Meanwhile, Logan didn’t even get a chance. Snake Boy didn’t get a chance for God’s sake. And for all I know, when the plane touches down in Boise on Sunday night, I might find out that I’m not getting a chance either. Instead, two people that don’t deserve to have their name attached to the title picture are coasting along to the top based on the ambiguous result of a steel cage match. Meanwhile, I know that I could beat Lively. Losing to ME of all people would crush him—losing his precious championship to a woman would destroy him. And I’m counting on that.

“Yet, I have absolutely no way of knowing.

“And to that I say, such is life, Cassandra. On Monday, no matter what, I need you to promise me one thing.”

”I’ll promise you anything. I just wanna go out! We’ve been cooped up all day.”

Aubrey smiles and pours both of them another glass of wine, nodding at Cassandra in agreement.

”Promise me that no matter what, I don’t leave Boise, Idaho without a North American Title shot.”

She raises her glass, and Cassandra smiles, raising hers as well.

”Cheers to that.”


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OOC Note: My version of MS Word claims that this text is 2,993 words (and I'm assuming every version of Word will say the same), though the board claims that it's around 3100... I've gone by the Word Count provided in MS Word, but from now on I will try to keep my RPs below 2800 words to avoid the conflict and confusion.