(Don't) Swallow the Cap

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1/30/22

There were two things Olive Adler was certain of: Don't Look Up was going to be nominated for Best Picture (and then win, naturally — an utterly harrowing inevitability), and that Ashley Blakesley was going to be the death of her. Though as she watched her former boss stumble, falling backwards into one of the motel room's mattresses whilst drunkenly giggling. she couldn't help but wonder if she had the second thing backwards.

Though Ash had taken to the bottle more in the past few months than she had in the time Olive had known her, the liquor still didn't seem too fond of her. Olive stifled a chuckle as Ash pushed herself up to a seated position, face flushed and head swimming. As the pair locked eyes, however, both erupted into laughter.

"Oh, jeez," Ash began as her laughing fit subsided. "Where was I again?"

Olive crossed her arms, pushing away from the desk she'd been leaning against. A silence overtook the two as Olive stared into the distance, as if lost in thought.

"I think you were finally gonna tell me what the fuck that whole thing on New Year's was."

Ash grimaced, biting the inside of her lip. "Now, somethin' tells me that wasn't it."

"And you're sure about that?" A sly smirk played at the corners of Olive's mouth; a smirk Ash mirrored, down to the crossed arms.

"I gotta say, I'm pretty certain. Because I have no idea what you're talking about."

Olive rolled her eyes, letting out a groaning sigh. "Right. Nothing says 'everything's fine' like a drunk dial where you tell me to take care of myself before abruptly hanging up. Not suspicious at all."

Ash shrugged, rolling her neck — and wincing as she aggravated a sore spot. The smirk remained fixed to her face, however, as if challenging Olive. Say it, she could almost hear Ash whispering.

"Do you have a fucking deathwish or something? Is that it?"

Ash's smirk disappeared as she shoved herself up to her feet, closing the distance between the pair.

"It is, isn't it? That's why you insist on throwing yourself into the meat grinder over that fucking belt. It's why I have to pull strings to make sure you're cleared despite the litany of untreated injuries you've racked up. So you can prove what, exactly?"

Olive could feel her nerve faltering as her eyes met Ash's once more. If looks could kill, she'd at least be in a hospital bed.

"It's not about proving anything," Ash snarled, her breath hot against Olive's face and reeking of a distillery.

"It's all I have left."

Ash's eyes darted to the floor as the words left her mouth.

"Of what?"

"Of this. The mission, everything we've worked for. If I lose this—"

"Then what?"

"I don't know!" Ash erupted, peeling away from Olive and pacing on unsteady footing. "I wouldn't expect you to get it, because you never really believed, did you?"

Olive felt the saliva drain from her mouth as the weight of Ash's gaze pressed on her chest. Ash sneered.

"Just like the rest of them," Ash hissed, glassy-eyed and red-faced.

Both hands reflexively balling into fists, Olive slipped her 'injured' arm out of its sling, feeling her face heat up.

"Don't you fucking dare— I'm still here, aren't I?" She jabbed an accusatory finger in Ash's direction with the hand that'd freed itself, seemingly unaware.

"Why?" The combative tone in Ash's voice faded, her lips pursed. "Why are you still here?"

For another moment, a suffocating silence overtook the two as their respective gazes refused to meet, stealing glimpses of the other out the corner of their eyes.

"Just go."

Olive shook her head, taking a step to close the distance between her and Ash, a soft smile on her face.

"I said go."

"What are you, my fucking boss?"

Ash laughed, despite herself. With a deep breath, she responded.

"You wanna know what happened on New Year's? Fine. You might wanna sit down, though."

---

Hello, Aphriya.
Hello, Azurine.

I feel compelled to lead with a piece of advice. I know, sounds condescending, doesn't it? But I promise you this, even though you probably won't agree, this is the nicest thing I can possibly say to either of you.

You are better off not showing up to CruiserClash. No, seriously.

Oh, how dare I, right? Don't I know what I'm walking into? Staring down the reigning Cruiserweight Tag Champions — blessed by the fates to paired together here — on their home turf, with a woman I've not so much as said two words to in my corner. This is your moment, right?

But, I really, truly hope you see those shimmering trappings. Because this is a gilded cage, alright, but not for me. Not for Alice. No, it's for you, sillies. You get it, don't you? This is a stage you absolutely have to perform on, because when (not if) we beat you, it's open season for those belts around your waists. Because how cohesive is the unit that holds them if two people with no rapport take them down when they hold all the cards.

Forget the matchup, huns. This isn't about throwing rocks at the throne, proving you belong in Battlebowl, that you're deserving of the reward, by holding your own against someone who's been at the top of the mountain. This is about you preserving your hold on a pair of belts three seconds away from becoming a hot commodity.

Because you're the predator right up until you're the prey, and Aphriya, it just doesn't seem like you're cut out to be hunted. Isn't that right? The bright lights are your worst enemy, aren't they? It's why you floundered on the homestretch of The Search, and through your perseverance you're still here, while those that finished ahead of you aren't.

It's admirable, but unsustainable. Is that going to be your plan to deal with me, with Alice? Because better people than you have crashed headfirst into the brick wall that is little Ashley Blakesley thinking all they had to do was hit it at the right speed.

And of course, how could I forget about your partner? Hello again, Azurine. It's been a while, hasn't it? I remember you, though: my first defense as TV champion. I do apologize, I was still keeping up appearances at that point, so I never really got the chance to sit down with you, look you in the eye, and ask you point blank:

What are you?

Don't worry, I know the trappings all too well. A regular calendar crusader, so bright, bubbly and dreadfully drenched in Adderall-addled alliteration. But that doesn't answer the question, does it?

No, how could it? Though, I guess the answer lies within the predicament you two have found yourselves in, doesn't it?

Because you're playing with house money, in a game you absolutely have to win. You especially, Azurine. You need this, not to advance, but to maintain position, because this is where you feel safe, isn't it? It's why you roped up another partner; this is your ice.

Too bad it's only getting hotter.

In the end, it's about keeping your head above water, because the second Alice and I beat you two, the second we move on, is the second the wouldbe sharks all around you smell blood in the water. And once they start circling, who knows how many chunks they'll take out of you? With each one, your spot becomes less tethered, until Aphriya tries to strike out on her own again.

Then, you'll be right back where you started.

Maybe you'll repeat the cycle. Who knows? There's a sucker born every minute, after all. I'm sure you two would know: you probably thought this was your moment to take. Your match to lose. And maybe it would be true, were it any other former world champion in my shoes. Maybe they'd look past you, fat, happy, and content to take the people who haven't reached what they have lightly.

I'm not that person. And from the second this match was booked, the second it was you two across from Alice and I, this was never going to be an opportunity you could reach out and grab.

You were just too blind to see your blessing was a curse the whole time.