freedom.

[chaos lite]

who i wanna work with? nobody
ninety-nine percent of them is nobody
bitches actin like they killin shit
okay
when i check these bitches’ guns, no bodies...

nov.24.twelve

”I’m going to be completely honest with you today...”

When I removed the lens cap from the camera, I felt like I was looking right at her. I hadn’t really prepared in my head what I wanted to say to Amy, but I knew it would come naturally once I saw her. And looking at the tripod, clear as day, I saw that woman. That bitch.

”Amy, I’m going to beat the everloving fuck out of you on Monday night. I’m not going out there with the intention of giving you a wrestling match.

I’m going to humiliate you.

I’m going to rip your hair from your skull, strand by strand. I’m going to break your nose. I’m going to put your mouth against those steel steps and stomp. And stomp. And stomp.

I hate... you.

I loathe you with every fiber in my being, and comically enough, I find myself having to credit you for getting what you finally wanted, just like you always have. You finally get a one-on-one match with me. And... Ordinarily, I would roll my eyes at this because I never thought that you deserved it. I never thought you had any business being in a wrestling ring with me, and I have a hell of a lot of evidence to back that up, but we’re not gonna get into it. This isn’t American Championship Wrestling. This is APW, and this is a whole new game. I’m not going to roll my eyes at you like I would’ve in the past.

I can’t now.”

I couldn’t. I rubbed my eyes and looked at the camera, self-aware for the first time of the afternoon. I was just a few hours removed from a lengthy plane ride and was still wearing same retro Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers tee, hair still pulled into a ponytail, makeup still absent. I probably looked silly, but these thoughts wouldn’t penetrate my mind until much, much later.

No... In fact, it’d be later in the day that I was almost a little disappointed in myself for the way I spoke to Amy, in front of my fans in this vignette.

Almost.

”I can’t deny that you’ve improved in the ring since the last time we were wrestling for the same company. You go out there and you have heart, and you have this connection with the APW fans, and I see all of that. I’m proud to say that you were one of the first people I ever wrestled because I think it was me that inspired you to step your game up, when you saw that even as a rookie, I was exponentially better than you at nearly everything we did.

Except taking our clothes off.”

I grinned into the camera, at Amy, and relaxed a bit in the chair I’d settled in.

”You always were just a little bit better at that and I’m willing to say that it plays a huge role in your connection with the fans. In fact, I’d be willing to bet that if we surveyed the audience, at least ninety-percent of them would be male.

Because you’re a fucking skank.

I think it’s funny that you accuse ME of being this terrible person that sleeps and manipulates her way to the top when I have won championships on my own, something that you have never been able to do in your entire career. The only thing you have EVER been known for is being a Playboy cover girl and not even a very memorable one if you ask me, so don’t you dare run your fucking mouth about MY accomplishments and MY role in this business. I will ruin your entire career, and I won’t hesitate. I won’t think twice about it.”

I was no longer relaxed in the chair and unwittingly tensed up again, leaning forward just the slightest.

”Do you think I care if you ever wrestle a match in your life again? Amy, I wouldn’t lose a wink of sleep over it if you were rendered paralyzed on Monday night and had to be wheeled out of the arena, subject to life support. I would go about my daily business knowing that I did this company and the entire world of wrestling a favor by removing Amy Zing from the airwaves.”

I paused.

”LET’S talk about how you interfered in my fucking North American Title match, you twenty-four cent cunt.”

I think I lost all control of my bodily movements by this time. I was livid. I was probably pointing a finger into the lens as if I was talking to a child. And let’s face it... I might as well be.

”I can’t believe you were audacious enough to even SHOW YOUR UGLY FUCKING FACE at ringside during my match, KNOWING that it would be a distraction to ANYBODY, let alone ME. JESUS CHRIST, LISTEN TO ME, I’M SQUEALING! YOU’RE MAKING ME yell-- No. I won’t let you make me yell in my own motherfucking house. I... Ohmygod...”

By this time, I buried my face in my hands.

She did it. She was driving me crazy. I looked like an emotionally unstable female right now, and it’s because in that moment, I probably was. I knew that the only thing that could really help me feel any better was wringing that girl’s neck. Perhaps disfiguring her. Breaking a bone, or tearing a muscle would do, even. But really, it wasn’t just about her. It was a combination of things; a monstrous pile of problems, with Amy Zing being the only one I knew I could solve on my own.

”You aimed to cost me something that was really important to me. I know that you’ve never won or had anything in your miserable life that you’ve ever been able to cherish, but I spent every waking minute with that championship. I only held it for three weeks before it was stol-”

I caught myself. I bit my tongue. It was time to swallow a bitter pill.

”Regardless of the circumstances, I don’t have it anymore, and I’m looking at you, and I’m thinking...

If it weren’t for you, this might have never happened.

If not for you... Evan and Delikado may not have ever introduced the chair into this match that helped cost me my title.

I don’t know.

And I can’t go back and change anything, because if I could, I would go back to the moment that you considered signing a contract here and I would hurt you. I’d hurt you to the point where you coming here wouldn’t be plausible. Since I can’t do that, I guess I’ll just correct the problem now, and the way I see things, better late than never.

I don’t know what kind of relationship you have with Alexander Duvall or Sienna Harrison, or why it was imperative that my main event last week was turned into a free-for-all, and I don’t care. After this Monday, I’m free. I don’t have to stick around and watch what Duvall and Sienna do to this show, and I feel sorry for you especially, Amy, because without me here, they have no more use for you. They have no need for you. Without me, you wouldn’t have gotten the taste of a main event here on Meltdown, and I don’t say it because you’re not a good wrestler. You are.

But that’s all you’ve ever been and all you’ll ever be. Good. I’m not going to claim to be one of the greatest, but I will tell anybody that wants to ask me, AJP is BETTER than good.

You will never be any better than good, Amy. On the microphone. In the ring. Even when you’re naked in a men’s magazine, you’re nothing to write home about. Trust me, I’ve seen it. You’re average. You’re the poster child for the midcard.

Up until this point you have been absolutely INCAPABLE of stepping up when given an opportunity, and I can’t see things going differently in APW where there are rosters upon rosters of main event level talent, even on Monday Night Meltdown.

Meanwhile, I defeated Krunk, Shadow, Buckson Gooch, and the arguably the biggest self-made star APW has ever signed, Azrael Goeren. I beat all of them in one night-- in one match. What the hell have you EVER done for this business, and what makes you stand out, Amy?

Hold on. Let me tell you what makes Amy Zing stand apart from every other airhead that’s signed on the dotted line in this business: It’s me.

Since you’ve come here, you’ve made your entire career about ME.

When you debuted, you had AJP on the mind. Every single week you compete, all you can seem to think about is finally getting your hands on me so you can ATTEMPT to kick my head off-- and I’m NOT going to let it happen, you little bitch. At the end of the night, I know that I’ll have outfought you and if it comes down to it, I’ll outwrestle you just like I always have in the past.

For once, I can’t promise a victory though. Not in the technical sense.

I can’t do that because... With what I intend to do to you on Monday could very well cost me the match, and as uncharacteristic as it is, I’m completely okay with that... because both of us can get exactly what we want. I get to end your career, and you get to say that you held a victory over me.”

I shrugged, fully aware of how bad and unprofessional it might’ve sounded. I was too far deep to care much about technicalities right now. Everything I’d said about the match was true. If I had my way, I’d be risking disqualification throughout, and Amy’s body would be broken and beaten to the point that fans would laugh if she even teased the idea of wrestling another match.

”And if you do walk away from the ring on Monday, where does that leave you then? I’m not going to be an active competitor on Meltdown anymore and THEN what do you do? Whose coattails are YOU going to ride to the top?

You’re unfocused, Amy. It’s why you won’t beat me.

Face it. You’ve always wanted to be me. You’ve ALWAYS wanted to be AJP. And if you want me to-”

Before I realized I was doing it, I was laughing, but even I was aware of the sadness and bitterness that lied beneath. I looked away.

”If you want me to admit that I was a bitch to you in the past, then I admit it. I was a bitch. I was a mean-spirited, angry person and I made a lot of enemies really quickly. I took every positive trait from everyone I learned from in this business and I used it to propel myself to the top, and it turned me into a really negative, really bad human being.

I’m sorry.”

I looked up at the camera again.

”I’m sorry that I had the nerve to do that, and you didn’t.

Look at us now. I’m going to Asylum, and after this week, you go back to the slums of APW, and you try to figure out who the fuck you really are. And that’s if you’re even able to walk after this match.

I’ve defined myself in the world of wrestling and you can’t even define yourself in your own mind.

You call yourself amazing because it sounds good. It has a hell of a ring to it, Amy, but it’s going to start sounding silly really shortly if you don’t do something to back that name up. It’s going to sound outright stupid if you can’t beat me, after all this shit you’ve talked. After how LONG you’ve waited for this.

So keep what you’re doing. Keep being simply Amy Zing and it’ll continue simply not being GOOD ENOUGH.

Meanwhile, I’ll continue being me. No garbage. No gimmicks.

My name is Aubrey J. Parker... And I’m gonna kick your ass.”




nov.25.twelve

”WAKE THE FUCK UP.”

Aubrey looked up at me with tired eyes that looked like they’d been the victim of some heavy drinking the night before. Typically I would assault her with some sort of smartass remark regarding her liver by this point, but with so many topics at hand, I was forced to prioritize.

It was nearly noon on this particular Sunday morning, and though I was used to seeing Aubrey party all night only to sleep until the daytime, I found myself particularly annoyed on this day because we were scheduled to catch a flight in just over an hour.

”Cass, not now. I need a quiet room, with no lights-”

”No. We can’t do this shit today. Not only do we have to catch a flight at one, but your phone has been off all week!”

”I forgot to charge it.”

”For a WEEK?”

She tried to maneuver her head beneath the pillow, but with a newfound quickness I snatched it from her fingers and launched it across the room. Next, I tried to rip the blankets from the bed, but she held onto them with a death grip, groaning and whining all the while.

”Five more minutes, plea-”

”No, bitch! This is for your own good.”

I finally managed to rip the beige colored blankets from her grip and grab her wrists, pulling her into a seated position. She groaned and rubbed one of her eyes with the hand that wasn’t flipping me off.

”Your phone’s off so you can avoid Logan, isn’t it?”

”Mmmmmm, who?”

She turned away and brought both hands up to her eyes now, but I grabbed her wrists again and leaned down so she was forced to look right at me.

”You don’t even know the full story.”

”Cass, there’s no story.”

She pulled away from me and got off the bed, adjusting her oh-so-fancy attire that consisted of plaid boy-shorts and a black tank top.

”He beat you for your title. There were shenanigans. It’s a story, and I know you so much better than this. You either vent and lash out at everybody when you’re mad, or you let it fester and build inside of you until you drive yourself mad. Or depressed, whichever comes first.”

She rolled her eyes at me and turned, walking toward the bathroom but I was right on her heels.

”You can’t run from this. He’s your tag team partner and you two can’t let this fuck you guys up. You can’t let Sienna win.”

She slowed her stroll when I said that, but only shot me a very quick glance before walking into the bathroom. Again, I followed her, stopping her before she could close the door. She gave me an irritated glance.

”Are you going to watch me pee too?”

...I let her walk into the bathroom, but I’ll be damned if it stopped me from finishing what I had to say from the other side of the door.

”This is what she’s always wanted. She wanted you and Logan to fight, and she wanted there to be tension. She thought that no matter what happened, you guys wouldn’t be okay after the match. And now you want to prove her right?”

The toilet flushed, the faucet ran for a second, and the door opened. Aubrey leaned against the frame and looked at me wearily but wore the faintest trace of a smile.

”I don’t have to worry about her anymore. Kay? I’m free. I’m not on the Alexander Duvall and Sienna Show anymore. The last thing that I’m obligated to do is destroy Amy Zing. I’m leaving Meltdown but not without leaving a crater in Amy’s face.

I’m... Free.”

”But Logan’s not.”

I looked at her with a questioning gaze but she didn’t flinch or seem to compute what I was talking about when I said his name.

”You guys are still in this Tag Team Title tournament. You’re still friends, Aubs. Did you stop caring?”

”I don’t think you should ask questions if you’re not ready for the answers.”

The answer came so smoothly and confidently that I was shocked. It was so vague, but I had already made my mind up about its meaning. I didn’t try to stop Aubrey again as she moved past me, back toward her bedroom. I only watched her, and she turned around to face me one more time when she reached her doorway.

”The only person I want to be mad at is Amy. Let me have that, okay?”

She started to turn away but stopped herself once more.

”I want at least one person to support me for once.”

I nodded slowly, and she turned to prepare for our trip. I turned away and walked down the stairs, remembering that my mind was racing, and my heart was pounding. I tried my hardest to keep myself from getting as emotionally involved in this business as Aubrey had. I was just a spectator. A bystander. But as such, it was hard to sit back and just observe while every single thing about my best friend started changing. All I could do was promise myself that I’d try to be happy for her and try to support any decisions she made...

I just wasn’t sure that she was about to make any good ones.

fin.