🄼🄾🅃🅷🅴🆁 | & ᴍᴇ, ᴛʜᴇ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋʜᴇᴀʀᴛ | Act V
May 7, 2023 19:40:39 GMT -5
Carter Shaw and Gerard Angelo like this
Post by Lissie Hope on May 7, 2023 19:40:39 GMT -5
Who is Lissie Hope? “I still remember the night she was born like it was yesterday,” Dottie Hope says, a kernel of pride manifesting in the crinkled lines on her forehead and in the nibble of her bottom lip. Her eyes beam down towards her fingers rubbing together, as if she’s overcome with the memory she’s beginning to retell - probably for the thousandth time. But this was the first time the wrestling world audience would get to hear it from her mouth. “Robbie would grow to love Halloween. He was only three that night - it’s probably the most vivid memory he retained from his early childhood. He never remembered his own birthday parties, even if their daddy and I went all-out for them. He remembered that Halloween not because it was about him - but because it was about her. It was when the world brought him his kid sister, Elisabeth.” Her name hung in the air as her voice cracked slightly; the oxygen seemed to suck out of the room. “It was colder than usual in Halloween ‘96, and I had a hard time finding a costume for myself. Georgie, my husband, of course wore that ghost face man from the first ‘Scream’ movie – it was a popular choice, and he got to hide his glassy eyes and foul stench of cigarette smoke and Budweiser.” Her eyes rolled to the back of her head with the memory. “So I didn’t bother. I dressed in comfort, with my belly hanging over my sweatpants. And the driveways were longer. Seeing my little Spiderman running sprints to each door to get his treats, and I wish my legs could move as fast as his. But he was a ball of energy – and the one time I had to react, it was heart-stopping. Georgie let his hand go and he nearly ran into the street, and all I could see was the headlights coming. And I sprung into action, wrapping my hands around him. Moving faster than you could expect a woman nine months pregnant. And the adrenaline and the fear led to my water breaking, right there in the middle of the street.” She chuckles as she reaches for the picture of Robbie and Lissie sitting under the glow of a lamp on her coffeetable. Holding it to her heart, she continues. “Robbie was so ready for her to come. And so was I. The world couldn’t have been more ready for her,” she says with a beam of pride. But it quickly dissipated under a resigned pause. “I guess I never thought about it this way before – but my babies came into this world cheating death. And Lissie - bless her soul - has damn near been doing it ever since.” This is her story. “I really like my life.” Joey, the camera operator, moved the handles controlling the lens to put me in the middle of the shot. The boom mic hung overhead, capturing every skip of my breath. Every palpitation of my heart. Candace, who had spent the last several weeks getting me to open up - more vulnerable and exposed than I’d ever been before - sat in the director’s chair with a smile on her face. She sat her pen down on the notepad and, with merely a look, encouraged me to continue. “I know people may not believe it, as I’ve spent so much energy feeling sorry for myself. And I know I wear my heart on my sleeve, and the fans that adore me have found me inspiring and someone to rally behind because my struggles - my insecurities - my inadequacies? I share them with them. They share theirs with me. And that’s what shows me that every problem has a solution. I shouldn’t have to do this alone, even if Robbie isn’t here to steer me in the right direction. Even if Johnny isn’t here to be comfort and my safety and my escape. I know that every time I face the fire head-on and show the world that I’m resilient and fireproof - unscorchable - unshakeable; every time I do the unthinkable - the unprecedented? I wasn’t only doing it for me. I was doing it for all of them. All those eyes from the front rows to the furthest rafters. I hear every voice. I feel every cheer. I fill every heart. That’s what makes this worthwhile. That’s why I really like my life.” There’s a calmness in the room; I think my resolve and my perspective had begun to endear me to all of the crew. I didn’t speak to all of them on a personal level, but they seemed to really listen and absorb all of me. I guess that’s something I’ve always had going for me. A natural, God-given charisma that made everyone I came in contact with notice. And it was a blessing and a curse, because most of the time, I didn’t want to be noticed. I wanted to blend in with the crowd. I didn’t always want to be a domineering personality, but you can’t dictate how you make others feel. And if there was one thing that was a certainty? I could always make people feel something. “And what makes it hard?” Candace asked. I smirked painfully, fidgeting with my fingers, picking at my nails. I heard the zoom of the camera lens as Joey zeroed in on my behavioral tics; perhaps it would be an organic, personalized shot. But I know I mirrored a lot of the same things my ‘ma did, too. And with the power of editing, there was bound to be a ton of footage showing just how alike we really were. “Responsibility,” I answered quietly. I saw Candace’s head shift in confusion. “I’ve taken on a lot of responsibility with how far I’ve come. With everything I’ve done, here in Action Wrestling, and everywhere else I’ve ventured. All around the world, women in this industry look up to me. Feel they have something to prove to me. When they step into a locker room, there’s a 5-foot-5, 145 pound shadow they’re walking behind — and it’s a big responsibility I’ve acknowledged and welcomed and accepted.” “5-foot-5?” she asked with a curious smirk. “Let’s clear this up for good, in all good faith and honesty!” I covered my eyes and played along. “We’ve got some state of the art cameras and they don’t add ten pounds… and they certainly don’t add an inch or two!” “Thank God you’re not shooting anything for my OnlyFans then,” I joked, extending two fingers and moving them inward to denote “shrinkage”. I heard an audible gasp and the muffled giggles from crew members. “For real, though! I’m 5-foot… 4… ish,” I say with an embarrassed smile. “Thank you, we’ve seen some questionable side-by-sides and in the spirit of openness, we appreciate the peak behind the curtain. As you were saying…” “Right… responsibility. You do bring up an interesting point though, when you say ‘giving an inch’, because that does remind me of a cross I bear in this industry. ‘When I give an inch, people take a mile.’ I’ve given everyone who stands across from me the blueprint to attack my essence, my character, my vulnerabilities – what’s in my core. My being. What makes Elisabeth – Lissie. I’m not afraid to expose myself, to show them that there’s a way to penetrate my armor. Maybe it’s masochism, to hear all of the worst anyone can say about me. Maybe it’s my own way of punishing myself - to always have constant reminders of my failures. Because that makes me stronger in the long run. The more I indulge in their poison, the more immune I become to it.” “That’s a harrowing way to look at it. Feeling like you’ve got to face your demons head on, over and over again.” “It’s the only way I know how. I’m never going to escape them, so I have to embrace them, y’know? But it doesn’t erase what I’ve managed to accomplish in spite of it. I’ve won a World Championship five times. Five times! It’s so exciting, and I’m so proud of it, but with this success comes the microscope. And if you’re not careful, and if you’re flying too close to the sun, a magnifying glass can burn your ass to crisp. A spark can ignite and before you know it, it’s a blaze -” the snap of my fingers echo off the walls like a gunshot in a subway tunnel. “- an, inferno. Just like that.” “You said you were fireproof earlier.” “I’d like to be. But if the fire doesn’t get you, eventually the smoke will.” “And that’s scarier.” “It is. It’s the scariest feeling in the world to feel like you can’t breathe. When every inch of your body burns, and when you feel like there’s no reprieve. It doesn’t matter if you have world class doctors working on you, or if you have the love and support of the entire world behind you, because it can be taken from you in an instant. That night in Miami. Philidor Holdings. And to take ownership of that - to take accountability - to take responsibility for it - it’s the most humbling experience of all. To look into the eyes of everyone you’ve let down and promise that you won’t let them down again.” “Until you do.” “People like to say that I shirk my responsibility. That I continually trade in one addiction for another, over and over again. And it’s inarguable; I really don’t have a defense for it. You’ve been documenting my life; you’ve been my historian. What do you think of the decisions I’ve made?" “It’s not on me to judge, Lissie. I’m only here to give you the floor. Everyone wants to hear you tell your story.” I felt awash with emotion as I felt my throat tightening, my lips chapped dry and my head pounding, as if I was being pummeled with a mallet. I adjusted myself in my chair and looked off camera, hoping to see the guiding look of Johnny Bacchus at my side. But he wasn’t there anymore. I would have to do this alone. “I’m thirsty,” I muttered under my breath, feeling a wall begin to erect. I didn’t know how to break through to the other side. “Do you want to take a break?” Candace asked, her voice dripping with genuine concern. She pointed to a crew member and told her silently to refill my glass as I raised my knees up to my chest, crumbling into a ball. Wishing there was a blanket of safety to cover me as I felt chills course up and down every inch of my body. Finally, I smelt the aroma of freshly brewed black coffee emanating from the glass carafe as the stagehand came closer; her nervous hands shook as she began refilling my mug. And I felt my senses return. I felt the blood in my body unfreeze. I felt my pale skin begin to color again. “Thank you,” I said quietly as I lifted the mug to my lips. The aroma infiltrated my nostrils and I felt I could breathe again as the burn of the coffee swirled in my throat. Black coffee - unsweetened, unflavored - could always be a reliable safety net when you’ve spent a lifetime swallowing every bitter pill. “Are you okay now?” I cradled the cup to my chest, feeling a source of momentary relief. “I will be.” “Tell us a little about your podcast.” Candace arranged a Zoom call with Michael and Corey from their studio in Cincinnati. They were two of the leading voices in professional wrestling analysis and reviews. “Over the years, we’ve covered Action Wrestling along with their feeder organizations, the defunct UCI and WCF. We’re nearing a hundred thousand subscribers and specialize in deep-dives of major professional wrestlers and their historic benchmarks, achievements, and - well . . .” “Their falls from grace,” Corey finished, compounded with a belly laugh as he takes a long gulp of his Coors Light tall-boy. “Do you still cover Action Wrestling?” “I think there's enough voices covering Action Wrestling, right?” Michael cackled. “No, but seriously - I think our interests have veered elsewhere lately, and that’s okay.” “You still have a soft spot for Lissie Hope, we’ve heard.” “Who doesn’t have a soft spot for Lissie Hope, right?” he said, following a howl of laughter with a hit of his vape pen. The cloud of smoke hovered in the air, shrouding their faces. “She has one of the most cinematic stories ever told. She’s a case-study in what happens when you succeed too much, too fast, and what you could fall victim to if you’re not careful.” “Lissie is - to put it mildly - perplexing. Sometimes you see what she does and how she manages to sabotage herself and you think it can’t happen again -" a lengthy pause. “And then it happens again, right?” “She made a choice, that’s her bad.” “Hahaha right? She made a choice, that’s her bad.” “Why do you think she’s so complex and multi-faceted?” “Well, that’s what makes her captivating, right?” Michael said, getting a nod in agreement from Corey. “You wonder how much worse it can be and then she just continues to raise the bar. And it’s tragic, if it wasn’t so fascinating.” “Do you think Lissie Hope is a bad person?” “I don’t. Lissie is – Lissie has good intentions with bad ideas, right?” “Right.” “I think Lissie longs to be loved, longs to be accepted. I don’t think she’s got an evil bone in her body. Even when she traded one illness for another - when she was intoxicated with the idea of Philidor Holdings, you could tell the hero the wrestling world rallies behind was still there.” “F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote if you ‘show me a hero, I’ll write you a tragedy’, and I think that tells the story of Lissie Hope in a nutshell,” Corey said, punctuated with laughter. “I’ve got one even better,” Michael interrupted. “You remember Bonnie Blue?” “Who doesn’t remember Bonnie Blue!” “One of Lissie’s major influences, yeah.” “Well, Bonnie said this once – and I could be butchering this quote -” “Top podcaster in the game, folks!” “‘In every villain beats the heart of a hero. And in every hero, there breeds a seed of darkness.” “That’s good, damn.” “Right? And it explains everything you need to know about Lissie, right? Like, even during the days of Philidor, if you were to put Lissie on the ‘evil scale’, what would you say she was?” “On her own, or in comparison to the others?” “Well – Samson Saltair was - EASILY - like a twelve.” “Fifteen.” “And you had Ash Blake, who I would say was like – a seven, maybe?” “Maybe in hindsight. But at the time, everyone thought she was the head of the snake.” “And they were wrong! And Carter - I mean, he’s a weasel. But is he evil?” “I heard he saved a child from a burning building.” “That’s, ugh– nevermind. So Lissie, right? Even when she was fully in Philidor; even when she was setting up Howard Black; even when she was costing Corey Black the World Championship. You kind of saw her intentions, right?” “I don’t know - even she regrets those decisions.” “Regret isn’t enough.” “It’s not. Regret isn’t accountability. But I think she’s too proud to really - truly - hold herself accountable. But do I think that makes her inherently evil? I don’t.” “What would you say she is? On the numerical scale of evil?” “Maybe - a - two?” “That’s fair.” “Do you think she can dip into the negatives eventually?” “I think she could, yeah.” “What does she need to do?” Michael takes a long pause as he hits his vape. “Do you know what happened to Mae Ashby?” "I think it’s time we talk about Mae Ashby,” Candace said, cautiously but confidently. I looked at her with pained reticence - she had stuck the knife in the wound and twisted the blade, and there wasn’t anyone there to assure I wouldn’t bleed out on the floor. “...why?” “Well, we interviewed her. It was interesting to hear her perspective on what happened during your association with Philidor Holdings.” “I didn’t agree to that. Off the record, Candace – I can’t have that in the movie.” “I think it’s important that her story is told, Lissie. If you truly want to take accountability for some of the decisions you’ve made, you need to see what she had to say. Do you want us to roll back the footage?” A part of me absolutely did. I didn’t have the courage to find her and apologize in person, and maybe that’s exactly what I needed to do to heal my soul. I’d always felt there was a tear that had not yet been sutured, and my own hesitance and cowardice were the reasons why. And if I was still hurting this badly, it was selfish of me not to consider how badly she was. “I can’t watch that yet, Candace,” I said with pointed conviction. “I do owe her closure, but I can’t cross that bridge right now.” “I understand,” Candace said with resignation. “The last thing I want to do is get you feeling backed into a corner. So let’s talk about the person who’s been guiding you out of them.” My face lit up - I knew where she was going with this. “Johnny…” I said, my voice lifting into a sing-songy lullaby. But that happiness erased when looked down at the bandages wrapped around my palms. “Tell me about Johnny.” Action Wrestling President Torture sat dressed to the nines in a suite during a show. Candace and the Paramount crew sat opposite - his presence was intimidating, as if there was a menacing scowl hiding under the all-knowing smirk. “Everyone loves Lissie. Everyone feels like they know Lissie. But therein lies the problem –” he pauses and his eyes drift off-screen. “- everyone feels like they can protect Lissie. Like they can change Lissie. But Lissie has to recognize that the only person who can save Lissie is herself.” “You don’t think Johnny succeeded?” “Johnny and Lissie were the Romeo and Juliet of Action Wrestling. The Bonnie and Clyde. They played by their own rules, and they took on the world – no matter the consequences. And yeah – even throughout all of their dysfunction, no one can deny it. I saw it. It’s a love story.” Torture’s smirk veers even more sinister. “But at what cost? Lissie is going into Havoc with holes in her hands, and he did it to her. He always wanted to be a World Champion –” “- and he got it.” “He got it.” His eye-roll is accentuated with a chuckle. “Lissie’s a big girl. She’s going to have to weigh just how much she’s willing to sacrifice - and what, or who, she’s willing to let go - because she’s going to have to if she’s going to do what she’s always been meant to do.” “And what’s that, Torture?” “Win the Havoc Rumble.” Wrestling isn’t just a job; it’s a calling. Wrestling isn’t just what we do. It’s who we are. I have won five World Championships in my career. I shocked the world as a fresh-faced rookie when I won the All-In briefcase. I have an Action Wrestling legacy that is unmatched and unprecedented. Seven of the nine championships that call this company home have my name etched in their record-books. It’s a storybook career, but it’s missing one major milestone. This is my fifth Havoc Rumble. And though I’ve set the record for most cumulative asses yeeted over the top rope, and I fought till Walter nearly choked the life out of me to a runner-up finish - I’m still missing the one thing that would define my career. The one thing that would cement my status as the best female wrestler in the history of this company. Right now, the current Champion is dangling the meat from the fucking hook, and mother has never been more hungry to dig my teeth into flesh. I’ve spilled enough of my own blood in this ring. So much so that I’ve been walking aimlessly for too long, like a rotting corpse that’s been poked and prodded and gutted like a cadaver by every single one of you who’s hurled the most devastating attacks on my character and my legacy and my integrity. But closure is a beautiful thing. It’s about healing. It’s been my psychological process that I’ve neglected for far too long. I haven’t had the courage to look internally, and face everything I’ve needed to atone for. Headfirst, I dove into the fire because I wasn't afraid to get burned. I’ve always placed the weight of the world on my shoulders. I wanted to win because of the people I’d make proud. My family, my partners, my fans, and all of the women who’ll come after me – I wanted to set the example, and be someone to cherish. To worship. But I never truly believed that I should be looking out for number one. That I should be doing this for myself. I’ve earned the right to be a little selfish. I shouldn’t have to apologize for wanting to feel complete. This isn’t one of those bad decisions that have marred my reputation. This is one of those moments that could save my life. We give our minds and our souls to fight and claw and bleed in this ring. And we entrust our bodies to the Gods of wrestling — to the angels of the past that protect us. We know any wrong flip, any bad landing can end it all. We could die here… at any given moment. We could die by the swords of the ones we hate. We could feel the spike in our hearts - and in our hands - by the ones we love. And in order to survive every cannonball, and every battle axe, and every bullet from a chamber, and every blade in our spine – in order to survive the Havoc on the Battlefield on the road to Evolution? Anyone can walk into Havoc and do the same shit everyone else does. Have the same motivation and results that everyone else does. But I want to do this like nobody else does. I am ready to leave everything I have in the ring. And I could’ve had the easiest road I could muster by winning Battlefield and earning the last entrant – but I’m Lissie fuckin’ Hope, remember? When have I ever taken the easiest road? I’ve come to realize that I’m alone in Action Wrestling. And someone without anything to lose, and without anyone to protect, and without owing anything to any single person who enters that ring? That is exactly what makes me the most dangerous. But you’ve all contributed to who I’ve become. Corey Black and Downfall and Odin Balfore? You’ve motivated me to be better. Gerard Angelo and FPV and Tatiana Jolee? You’ve challenged me to be better. Serenity Holmes and Carter Shaw? You’ve humbled me and made me better. But I want to be the best. And only Jill Park can propel me there. You will respect my name, Action Wrestling. You can’t love me and appreciate me but hate every fiber of who I am. The Havoc Rumble winner can be many things. She can be a hero. A villain. A prizefighter. A prodigy. She can be a saint. A sinner. A shield. And a sword. But she is the Blackheart. She is Lissie ‘fuckin Hope. |