Post by Addy A on May 20, 2024 7:03:18 GMT -5
“Let me tell you something.”
When something goes wrong for you they say, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. It gives the implication that you have to accept the poorly situation and make the best of it, because that’s just what you do. That wasn’t the Ainsworth way, Adelaide was one that would never sell sweet beverages on a little table in her front yard. No, she would be the one to cut whole tree down and scream ‘fuck you’ at the top of her lungs. She was like this even as a child - it was a rinse repeat cycle for her. The riptide that she couldn’t swim against; while she had once tried to bring the Bigliani’s down - she was now tied to them indefinitely to the death. While they were plotting her demise - she was spitting in their face, cackling like the hyena. She was petrified, but she was never going to show it. All the while her mental wheels were spinning on her to get off this treadmill, at least in the interim. Karma has a way of coming back, she knows that, but running on the spot was pointless exercise. She knew they wanted their money back, and she was dangling that carrot to keep her heart pumping oxygen around her body. She had no intention of ever telling them what they wanted to know. The moment she did that - she was dead. Her daughter was dead. That was what mattered. She had considered fucking Joey again - the boy always thought was his dick, but that wasn’t going to safe her, not when it was the fat cunt, Gino that wanted her head.
Tonight was the night she was going to fight fire with fire.
Tonight she was going to wreak Havoc.
Adelaide watched the steel plated red door with a violent intent, as the many men in cheap suits and gaudy jewellery walked in and out with a care in the world. Mistaken in their belief this was a safe place.
“Havoc, it’s a mad cunts dream. Everyone flinging limbs in every direction with only a single goal in mind. Everyone is pulling in directions yet they all have the same destination in mind. A pure orgy of violence that would make the Romans proud. In short, a coliseum of destruction that is perfectly built for me.”
“This rat in a cage scenario is what I was designed for. The pure chaos of what is arguably the greatest prize in all of Action Wrestling. The chance to call yourself a Havoc winner. There have only been five. And with the exception of one, they’ve all been World Champions. And let’s be fucking real - that’s why we’re all fucking here. Havoc is everyone’s chance. One lucky elimination, one hot run of momentum. You’ve been fucking made. And the glory of it all, you don’t even need to win to elevate yourself. It’s your fucking performance that makes you. It may have been the baby of the family but Karlie Nash’s did more for career in CruiserHavoc IV with a second place finish than she has done elsewise. Well, it was until that bitch decided she was going to step on my toes. She had done her career longevity wonders by avoiding me at every possible turn, but her little upset ego just earned herself a double adaptor on the splintered ends of a broken hockey stick.”
“Her and her little cunt of her evening flower partner. Ironic that Karlie Nash is always trying to de-flower and her partner is the evening flower. Neither matters though as I will still snap their fucking necks and dispose of their bodies in an acid bath.”
Time waits for no woman.
In times of excitement, slowly and quietly didn’t come naturally to her. She dropped from the rooftop as silently as she could muster. The security guard in his cheap black suit, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips was too enamoured the black on blonde video erotica playing noisily on his phone to notice her slowly creep up behind him, swinging the claw of the lustily from above into gap between his shoulder blades, he collapses screaming in agony.
She disappears into the darkness, his howls of agony creating the distraction she needs to get inside the warehouse. As AS the band of brothers rush out in the madness to see their fallen soldier, several fan out into the ether to find her, his unknown(to them) assailant, while one stands over him. This man, definitely not in a cheap suit, carries the aura of authority. He reaches inside his coat and removes a small revolver. Looking down at the wounded grunt, he wordlessly pulls the trigger. A single shot to the back of his head. The noise causes the other men to turn around. Without words, he uses hand signals to motion to his minions to dispose of the body.
It was a single gunshot. She didn’t see what had happened, as she was well inside the warehouse, looking for her score. It wasn’t a noise she was unfamiliar with, she was known to have pulled the trigger on many occasions in her past. But, this was cold.
It made her jump.
“The thing about the Havoc Rumble, is you’ve got to be ready for when your moment comes. You have to seize the momentum and it starts to swing wildly in your favour and drive forward. That was exactly what Lisse Hope did in Havoc 3 when she entered the ring like a whirlwind and started tossing everyone from the ring. She seized her moment.”
“But she wasn’t prepared for the unexpected.”
“She wasn’t ready for the sleeping giant to awaken.”
“That’s another thing about the Havoc Rumble. You can never prepare for every scenario. You have to be ready to pivot and scramble when things go awry. Some people do it better than others. Some people fall by the wayside, and history says Lissie learned her lesson three years later. But her name is in the past, and this year is now. This is my time to shine, even if it means outshining the other Queen in the ring.”
“It means I will be ready to react when someone pulls the trigger.”
“The end goal will never change, just how I got there might have to take a detour, depending on which cunts play peek-a-boo and pull the surprise ticket because they lack the cunning or the fortitude to nut up and front up as a name on the marquee.”
Adelaide has resorted to hiding in the corner. The gunman was silently walking through -his- warehouse. This was no Joey Bigliani legacy. The body language, the stoic demeanour, this was a man who knew what to do. This was a man that acted first and asked questions later, yet took the time to be calculated in his delivery. Taking the moment to lean on a wooden crate filled with ornate pottery, presumably concealing cocaine or heroin judging by the powdered bricks stacked on the steel table next to the crate.
Tapping the side arm methodically on the metallic surface, the trill sound echoes through the soul of Adelaide Ainsworth. Her body is sweating, her heart is beating inside her throat. She had come here with a purpose in mind and despite the challenges in front of her she was intent on walking out of the warehouse with her prize in hand.
He was aware of her presence, he removed a hip flask from inside his coat pocket as he put his side arm inside his jacket. Unscrewing the cap, he takes a generous swig from the vessel, before placing it down on the table on which he is leaning. He lets out an audible sigh of tired purpose, before picking it back up.
“I know you’re here.” he says aloud to vacant airspace, but directed intently to Adelaide Ainsworth.
The words startle her, the echo inside her skull. She holds firm in her hiding spot as he puts the flask away in the coat and walks away from her location, leaving Adelaide alone in her trepidation.
“Despite needing the ability to adapt at instant’s notice in Havoc - you still need a solid grounding of a game plan. You can’t just go chopping and changing direction everytime some fuckwit like Jaice Wilds enters the ring. You’ll be thrown off centre and whatever you had planned will go right out the fucking window as I throw you right over the top fucking rope. You have to lay down the groundwork and build that yellow brick road through the thick fucking undergrowth to get to the mythical land of Oz. If you need to drag your dumb, cold and cowardly friends to get there - so be it. Just be ready to dispose of the instant you find your way home. That was the Spencer Adams way.”
“It worked.”
“I’m not going to be one to discredit it.”
“He was dream chasing - but we all are. That’s why we are so deep in this shit called Action Wrestling. That’s why we’re all chasing the fucking lottery of winning the Havoc Rumble. One event - every year - that’s not a lot of chances. And that’s why I am not going to let any of you cunts ruin it for me. I am going to take this - I am going to take my time - to make Gerald Angelo suck my dick at Evolution. He will fucking like it.”
“I’ve come to realise that there are many different paths to get to the finish line in this thing. It’s only the journey that changes, never the destination. The bodies we bury along the way - they are collateral damage.”
“The holes we dig for them.”
“They dig for us.”
“The holes I dig for you.”
“The holes you dig for me.”
“I will bury you in.”
“No matter how many times you trap me in the corner - I will find my way out. Whether it’s like the trapped rat gnawing through your soft flesh, the parasitic worm letting you destroy yourself from the inside out or even the hungry hyena tearing you down from behind while ripping your flesh from the bone.”
“I will walk out.”
“Conqueror.”
Adelaide Ainsworth found herself bound to the steel chair. Held captive against her own will, though, if she was being honest with herself she found the situation a bit erotic and somewhat orgasmic even if the ropes were scratching her skin like a child with a chicken pox sore. Adelaide had been found, despite all her calculations, the man in the expensive suit was patient. Now she was just waiting for his bosses to give the orders. While she sat breathing on the cold metallic chair, she knew she was still in the game and that’s what Adelaide Ainsworth relied upon. If the skin was raw, there was always a way out. That was her modus operandi.
Adelaide surveyed the room, the man in the expensive suit and his deep blue eyes were firmly focused on her, unwavering, even as he took regular swigs from his silver flash. The man was a professional, she could tell that - that scared her more than she would admit to anyone other than the thoughts in her head. He was momentarily distracted by the theatrical entry of another male, dressed to be seen. A shimmering suit and the heaviest gold chains that any man of European descent could possibly carry on their body. He wore sunglasses inside. This was someone whose appearance was worth more to their ego than their performance.
This was Joey Bigliani.
Adelaide witnessed the expensive man’s eye roll as Joey waved him from the room.
This was their weakness.
This was her opening.
Joey danced as only an uncoordinated white man could as he made over to her restrained position. She smiled as he leaned in close. She knew this man thought more with his dick(no matter how small it was,) than his brain(it was smaller.) Taking her teeth and gripping the metallic zipper of his fly, he was instantly putty in her hands(even tied up with rope behind her.)
He sighed.
“Everyone that steps into the ring is looking for their advantage. Whether it’s Johnny Cedrone as the first man in, or Doc Holiday as the last, each and every of us is looking for that competitive edge. We are all looking for our next victim, we are looking for the easy target. Why would I take out Odin Balfore when a putz like Jaice Wilds is standing next to him. Take the long hanging fruit first, deal with Odin when I have to, and not before. That being said, I’ll use the broken hockey stick up Odin’s arse to turn the bearded cunt into a ring mop when I have to.”
“That’s what this whole thing is about.”
“Taking advantage of the weak, and using them as the building blocks to your success, before moving onto the big dogs, the Alpha Males and Bad Bitches - taking advantage of their weaknesses to ascend the throne we all crave. Hoping not to fuck up on each step as we make our way to the upper echelon. It’s funny, as much as we, and it’s not just me, need this victory to cement some form of legacy that we all crave. Every single fucking one of us will destroy every positive relationship we’ve ever built just to claim the glory.”
“It sounds like a backwards thought process to most - but to us - to those that call Action Wrestling home - it’s the way we are. We didn’t choose a career, we chose a way of fucking life. And god forbid if I am going to let any one of you stand in my way. If I am to go down in this match, I am going to go down swinging. And if I like the cut of the cloth I will let you go down on me.”
She hated his smell.
The tendrils of steam rose off the cold porcelain floor and filled her nostrils as she tried to wash the non-existent stench from her skin. Adelaide had compromised herself to escape the compromising hole she had found herself. She was what she never wanted to be.
She was Joey’s girl.
It was amazing what a piece of pink could do to the simple mind. It was a sacrifice that she hated, but was unavoidable in the circumstances and a small price to pay when the prize at the end of the road was to be considered.
Her thoughts were scattered, as her skin burned under the hot water that burst from the showerhead. She laughed out loud to herself when she thought about big fat Gino and his face when he found out his nephew was fucking her again.
“Fuck.” she screamed.
“Something I find ironic in all of this, is that for every previous winner of Havoc, not one of them is still standing as a known competitor in Action Wrestling.”
“It seems like this match carries its style of Icarus curse. We fly high, into the sun and burn up under our own brightness. Can’t say that won’t happen to me when I win Havoc. But I can say that I will embrace the heat of the flames and stand in the fire until I burn to ash. Whether it’s in the vein of Lissie Hope, forever chasing the dragon to silence the demons of my mind, or the style of Tatiana Jolee, finding any excuse for my failure rather than examining my own shortcomings. I will be there at the end of Havoc. I will be the name on the end of everyone’s tongue at the end of the night.”
“I didn’t come back to Action Wrestling to be remembered as the bitch that beat Niobe Martin up.”
“I came back to Action Wrestling to be remembered.”
Adelaide opened her eyes, only to be greeted by the blue eyes of the man in the expensive suit. He smiled at her, before she could open her mouth his right came down over her mouth to silence her. She tried to struggle, but it was pointless he had a strength about him that couldn’t be measured by his appearance. Wordlessly, he lifted her from the bathtub, allowing a few moments of dignity to put on a bathrobe before forcing her to follow him.
“It’s about taking what makes you from you. Whether it is Muru and the good will he’s built up from his early impact, or Sara Pettis and the footprints she’s leaving on the industry in the last throes of her career.”
“I will take it from you - whoever you are when you step in my path.”
“This means to much to me to roll to side, and play cute like I’m some fucking house trained cat. I’m not looking for toys to keep me entertained. I’m looking for my next kill to keep me fed. While most of you will be looking for the next easy meal, hoping to be one chosen for a warm bed at night. I will be the one hunting and feeding each and every one of you weak cunts.”
“This year, at Havoc, I will carve my own path through the bodies of the underwhelming.”
“This year, at Havoc, I will walk on the skulls of the unprepared and I will bury the weak.”
“This year.”
“At Havoc.”
“I will eat.”
“This year, at Havoc, I will carve my own path through the bodies of the underwhelming.”
“This year, at Havoc, I will walk on the skulls of the unprepared and I will bury the weak.”
“This year.”
“At Havoc.”
“I will eat.”
“This year.”
“At Havoc.”
“I will conquer.”
“This year.”
“This year.”
“At Havoc.”
“I will be remembered.”
Adelaide was staring at Gino Bigliani. Sitting behind an oversized mahogany desk in his pristine white suit, a cigar held between his fingers, like his was the personification of Marvel’s Kingpin.
“Adelaide Ainsworth,” he spoke raspily between cigar puffs, “Let me tell you something.”