│FIST OF HYDRA│ [PROVING GROUNDS VIII]

Thu Nov 12, 2020 4:36 pm

LONGING FOR CHANGE [DESIDERATIO VICISSITUDO]
[Garrison, New York]

One second can change your whole life, right? No matter if it's for better or worse. That’s all it takes to turn someone's journey upside down. Elena DeDraca had heard that saying so often it was hard to not laugh out loud. How often had her life changed and she had zero say about it? How often did people make decisions for her and it felt like there was no way out?

Too often.

But that was then and this was now. It didn’t do anyone any favours hanging on to the past too much, especially in a world that was changing constantly. Looking back was pointless, because that was not where she was going.

Let’s take a moment to speak about Proving Grounds, shall we? Just like she promised - not threatened - it came down to what she wanted. Proving the point that The British Raven was indeed back and better than ever. There was nothing merciful about her presence, nor about the way she did business. Elena DeDraca had so much to fight for, so this first match very well could be considered as throwing the first stone. Or stones.

I am coming for you, darlings.

Currently Elena was back home in her second favourite room of the house, the kitchen. The place where all the ideas for her cupcake shop become more than an image. The same place where she teaches Izzy all the little tricks to make people fat, but happy. It was no different today, although her daughter was more busy munching on the finished products than helping her. A gentle smile grew on Elena’s face when looking at her little wonder. Something so perfect and innocent, it was hard to believe that she grew out of her.

“Are you happy, mama?”

The soprano voice of her daughter caused her to snap out of a thought, giving her the full attention she deserved. Elena nodded slowly, one of her eyebrows raised in wonder though.

“Yes, very much. Why you ask, Pumpkin?”

“Because I wanted to know.”

Forward as always. Isabella didn’t talk much, not because she couldn’t- but she didn’t wanna. She seemed to find talking annoying and rather listened. For her five years she was pretty smart and focused. Special. But then again, every mother probably would say that about her kid.

The smile on Elena’s face became even wider and she was ready to reply, but in that moment Mark walked into the kitchen. Obviously he was returning from his morning run, caught by the rain- his dark hair sticking to his forehead. He looked at them with an almost apologetic half smile before putting today’s post on the kitchen counter.

“You could have showered at home, you know? We got warm water and that manly smelly stuff you like so much.”

For a moment he looked at his wife- weighing in his options, then leaned into her for a deep kiss. At the same time he made sure she got some of the water rubbed on herself. The only thing his boyish grin was missing, was him sticking out his tongue. After their little encounter he had begun walking towards the stairs, but abruptly stopped.

“There is a letter from England somewhere in there. It has urgent prints all over the envelope. Maybe you want to read it as soon as possible, love.”

Have you ever faced one of those moments where you literally can’t put a finger on it, but your heart sinks down like a heavy stone? Out of nowhere you feel sick and the whole world fades to black? This was Elena DeDraca’s moment. Rare and full of questions. It took her a moment before the words fully flourish inside her mind, and all the possibilities stretch before her inner eye. With a few quick moves she turned off all the ovens and looked over to her little princess.

“Darling, would you look after the dogs? I saw them stretched out in the living room.”

And once more she noticed the strong bond between herself and that little wonder. Without asking any questions, Isabella hopped off the chair and danced towards the other room. A little hesitant, Elena looked through the pile of letters, finding what she was looking for. The majestic emblem of the government of the United Kingdom greeted her, almost mocking her. With trembling fingers she ripped it open, beginning to read.

“Dear Miss DeDraca,

We are saddened to inform you about the passing of Miss Margaret Elizabeth Edwards… .”

The rest wasn't important for that matter, not to Elena. It was that one line that ripped the carpet from underneath her feet. Harder than she could have ever expected, or wanted it. She held onto the kitchen counter while her eyes scanned over the printed letters again. A thousand thoughts running through her head at the same time.

Growing up in an orphanage, she never knew what a mother or father was. Elena grew up to be okay with that, even though a tiny part of her never got over it. She didn’t know what love was and understood that it was okay. Around three years ago, a woman named Margaret Edwards appeared in her life, dropping the bomb that she was her real mother. Knowing Elena DeDraca, this didn’t go very well. Margaret was tolerated, but she didn’t have it in her to let the woman close- let alone calling her ‘mother’. And while at a certain point she understood the circumstances, it didn’t heal that part of her heart.

No second chance.

Standing there completely still, probably unable to move, she didn’t notice that Mark had returned to the kitchen. His eyes scanned over his wife, probably never seeing that kind of emptiness plastered over her face. With a few well measured steps he crossed the kitchen, his arms wrapping around her stiff body. El was still holding onto the counter, her knuckles white from the pressure. The other hand clinging to the letter.

“What happened, my love? Are you okay?”

Even though he knew that those questions were silly, he felt the need to break the silence. There was no response in any department, if she hadn’t been breathing against his chest he wouldn’t have known she was for real. He was softly shaking her.

“Elena? Will you please tell me what happened? You’re freaking me out.”

I wanna say the words.

In a way too slow manner her mind began to work again, but her mouth seemed unable to open. Another time he shook her, this time a little harder. And a third time. She looked up at him with those big, green eyes. The concern on his face was all she needed to come back.

“She is dead… Margaret is dead… my mother is dead.”

At the end there is only silence.

COME WANDER WITH ME [PUER CUM ME EGREDIOR]
[London, United Kingdom]

Another day, the sun would rise. Another day, the birds would sing. And another day, life went on as if nothing happened. For everyone, but Elena DeDraca. The flight to England went by in a blur, as if a thick fog was covering her senses. Running from office to office to get every paper she needed was paralyzing. And even though Mark offered to do those pointless things for her, she declined. It didn’t feel right.

Job. As grotesque as it may seemed, it was easier to see it this way. And it gave her the chance to push the hurt further away. In the back of her mind she knew that this was the only way to survive.

I am sorry.

[●REC]

There was still plenty of time before she had to head towards Orlando. A place where she didn’t fit in the slightest. Her pale skin. Her black hair. And that thick accent that she couldn’t lose, not even after all those years. But for now Elena sat inside her winter garden, looking at the plants that enjoyed the hint of sunlight. In front of her the favourite mug, filled with black tea. A few drops of milk and a hint of lemon added on the go. Enjoying the silence.

At least on the outside it was quiet, inside her head it was rather busy. All the things she had done, or should have done- and that nagging feeling of guilt that never would shut up. She was still dressed in this formal suit, the only thing she had kicked off were those uncomfortable high heels. The streets of London weren’t made for shoes like this. Period. Her smartphone was ready to record her piece for Project Honor, but the real question was- was she? A small sip from her tea before she hit the button.

“Are you ready, Laz? And I don’t just mean are you telling the world you are ready, or your mentor, but are YOU ready? I don’t try to offend you, love, but you didn’t look like it during your last match. I mean there were some sequences where I thought you had Warstein, but then you let it slip. Which is kinda a shame, because I can sense your potential. I am not the big analyser, dear, but you could have done better. And you know that yourself. You had everything to gain and nothing to lose- well, apart from the match. But things like that happen. We walk into a match, and we are really certain we got this, but all it takes is one mistake. You allowed him to grab the match by the balls, making it his game. No worries, I won’t lecture you about this kind of crap- I am sure Noah had a few words with you. Did your mentor mention that we have a little bit of a past? Nothing major, but I was ready to kill him. Not for something he did, but his buddy- who now seems to be missing in action. So, even if you don’t give a damn about me, write one thing down: I won’t mention her kid, unless I have a deathwish. That’s a really simple rule, right?”

She leaned back on her comfortable chair, herlong dark hair falling loose over her shoulder. The small wrinkle between her eyebrows was constantly present.

“You call yourself the Revolver, don’t you? Interesting. Not really impressive, but interesting. But remember one thing about guns in general, they are only good when you know how to use them. Otherwise tragic accidents happen or they are shooting blanks. Is that a thing, Laz? You are trying to hit the right spot, but you keep missing? I will not pretend to know what you are capable of, but I know there is something when it comes to you. There must be when someone with the success of Reigner takes you under his wing. Of course he has the personality of a teaspoon, but that once again is a tale for another time. I’ve spent most of my career being belittled by those that went for the big companies. The people that would sign a contract and automatically become the big attraction. And just like you, I’ve been a rookie once. You had this skinny, pale girl with her English accent that thought she could hang with those names. And man, I’ve received ass kickings a lot worse than what Warstein could have done to you. Bruises heal, egos often don’t. But I don’t assume that is the only reason you joined this company. To feed your ego and grow your balls.”

“Watch my mouth, so naughty today. Sorry, Laz. In no way do I wanna offend a young and upcoming talent like yourself. But maybe bare with me, I had a really shitty week- and that usually leads to me beating people into a bloody pulp. There were times when people suggested that I visit anger management. And guess what? I tried. Wanna hear the end of the story? The guy running the session needed new furniture and a new pair of glasses. Shouldn't have asked the wrong questions, right? I went through the facts I have about you, we are both foreigners. You come from a place that has beautiful flowers and where the grass is always green, while I come from a place where they drink hard stuff and fight in pubs. And yes, some of us have a stick up their arse- and like it. But I am pretty mellow if you get to know me. That is when we speak about Elena DeDraca outside of a wrestling ring. I will even bring cupcakes to the events and there are no hard feelings. But the moment that bell rings? Something inside of me changes, I am not even sure I can put it in words. I am sure others could, but then again this is no literature festival. I don’t need to sell my words to you, only my boot to your face.”

Although her voice had lightened up a little, the look on her face hadn’t. She was still looking extremely tensed, her eyes somewhat tired. Still beautiful, but different.

“I swear somewhere in my head I prepared a speech that only belongs to you, Lazarus, but I think it is hiding. I will do what the cool kids do and go freestyle, okay? My philosophy has been the same for the past 16 years: I don’t have to like you, to respect your work. And that is something I can say without any doubt. You got all the skills needed, just need to find a way to use them. I am not Warstein, which may be good or bad for you. I don’t play games or will try to mock you. I will go for your throat. Not out of despise, but because that is the only thing I’ve ever learned. And there is a reason they say: Never change a winning team. I don’t make any differences, inside this ring there is no friendship. It can’t be, Lazarus. Not when you wanna make a name for yourself. You’re Lazarus Arjen. That is what people should remember you for. Not the protege of Noah Reigner. Not the kid that thought he was anything special because of that. But the boy that hit opponents into the next century. The one guy that fucked up, but didn’t care. He got back up and tried even harder. It is no shame to go out there and lose, it only becomes pathetic when you cry about it for a week.”

“Project Honor still has a lot to learn about me so it seems. Their ignorance will bite them in the arse, and if not- I will do it. I am by no means spoiled or attention greedy, but I am righteous as fuck. Ask Dickie Watson, your prestigious champion. He knows better than most people that I will not stop before I get what I want. And that is still the million dollar question, isn’t it? What does Elena DeDraca want? Why did the Fist of Hydra return at this chaotic time- where it's possible the world will never recover? The answer is there, Lazarus, but they just don’t know yet how to read the signs. Once upon I was a big name in this industry, but maybe that doesn’t matter here. Maybe we are all granted a fresh start. Not that it will help you very much come Proving Grounds, but I believe in fairness. And I admire the art of this sport. Which reminds me, Deathmatch wrestler? You serious? I thought that breed died a few years back. That’s how little I follow the news, my bad. Am I a Deathmatch fighter? God forbid. In England we learn roughness and technique. We learn how to escape almost every hold on this planet and how to break the smallest bones in your body. I know one or two of your kind, and while it looks rather spectacular- it will not benefit you in the long run. Words of advice, sweets.”

There was this obligatory moment of silence. The one she had in all her speeches to collect her thoughts. Her looking into the great wide open, watching the fog crawling closer. What some would find spooky, Elena found welcoming. This was home.

“Look at me, Laz, talking to you like I am your damn fairy godmother. Thing is, I got nothing against you. I am sure you are doing a great job and will make it far in this business, but not on my watch. I have some stuff to work off and unfortunately you are standing in my way. I could pretend this will be a pretty match and the odds are even, but they are not. I am pissed off and wounded and that usually leads to me going over the top. Protect your head and that pretty face. Make sure you listen to your genius of a mentor, I am certain he can give you all the tips you need. And yet I hate to disappoint, but it will not be enough. I don’t mind your arrogance or the things you will have to say about me. I don’t shake with excitement about the things you could do to me, because this is not about you. The moment this match is over you will understand the hype. There are plenty of talented people on this roster, but you can’t buy what I have. Hunger. Passion. And a will to sacrifice everything to get what I want. Let it sink, Lazarus.”

“That is your one chance to make the world forget your debut match. The one chance to grab a bull by its horns without getting ripped apart. You will have to look for that one little mistake in my steps and use it against me. The only problem is, darling- I don’t make mistakes. This ring is mine, which means you are mine for that night. Excited yet?”

“You’re welcome.”