Kinda Criminal

Florida. Not my favourite place in the world. I was much happier to have spent some time in Nevada two weeks ago and I stayed there as long as she could. The desert suited me, which came as quite the shock let me tell you. Perhaps it was the badlands that spoke to me, it was a landscape of Death. Beautiful in it’s simplicity. Hell, it might be where my Inevitable Suitor spends their downtime. How could I know?

What I do know for sure was that I have serious contempt for Florida and everyone that lives here. Even my grandparents. Fucking old losers. Florida is a terrible place full of the worst kind of Americans -- I couldn’t wait to leave. Even if the nickname ‘God’s Waiting Room’ does somewhat align with my inevitable demise it smells like hot, week old hamburgers and I hate it.

I spent a few days in Las Vegas before coming down to Orlando. Orlando was not where I wanted to be in the least but I have no real choice. Vegas was nice, great people watching in Sin City. Lots of characters. But when any of them tried to talk to me I couldn’t get away fast enough. In my mind, I feel that just because I am observing you, that doesn’t give you call to approach me. That’s just rude.

My plane touched down in Orlando several days ago and I spent the majority of my time in my hotel room and the hotel gym. I dared not venture into the streets of Orlando because everyone that I’ve met en route to the hotel was gross. At least in Vegas you get a good mix of freaks and dirtbags. There is a variety of desperate people. Not here in Florida. They are all the same kind of garbage.

Typically I don’t like to spend a lot of money on hotel rooms -- considering I don’t have much of it -- but staying in a hotel with all the amenities that I need means that I don’t have to leave to seek those things out. I can stay secluded, for the most part. I would only have to venture out into the Americana Wasteland to fulfill my Project: Honor commitments.

Another tag team match awaits me on Proving Ground 8 and if it wasn’t the main event then I might have cause to be a little miffed. I don’t like the fact that I could lose a match and not be involved in the decision. This is the second show in a row that I am with a random partner. Although Elena and I made quite the duo, I was hoping that I wouldn’t see another stitched together tag team match any time soon. And yet...here we are.

My partner, Colton Saint, has made a name for himself in Project: Honor but he also participated in some very wild shit outside the ring. He is a former X-Factor Champion and as of late has been the name on everyone’s lips. He’s made himself into the most hated man in the company and I must say that I have respect for that. It was a mantle that I hope to take on in the near future. Perhaps teaming with Colton will be beneficial for me, I can learn what makes a true piece of shit in this company.

Criminal activity is not foreign to me but I’m more of a low level grifter. A con artist but only when my financial situation demands it. I take only minor joy in making people part with their money. I don’t know that I could ever participate in a kidnapping but a month ago I wasn’t sure that I could choke someone out with a coil of barbed wire. Things change.

The goings on between Zane and Colton is none of my business of course. That nonsense has nothing to do with me and I am happy to keep it that way. I have respect for Zane but I don’t particularly care what happens to her. We all know what they are getting into when we start wrestling -- you never know what kind of bullshit you are going to get dragged into.

-

Such was the case right now. Contessa sat behind a beat up folding table with a stack of 8x10s in front of her. Photos of her. Hundreds of them. She wasn’t a huge fan of having her picture taken but she is also on national television every other week so how much could she actually dislike it? What she truly abhorred was having to do this autograph signing at Gods & Monsters comic book store.

When she arrived earlier in the day she was simply shocked to see the amount of people who had shown up to get her autograph. They were likely to just sell these things on eBay but the joke would be on them -- no one is going to buy it. At least, not at the moment. Contessa was still a rookie, she was new to the game and she was just cutting her teeth. To her, this signing felt like some sort of strange joke at her expense. Those were the worst kind of jokes, she felt.

At midday the door opened and a plethora of fans all lined up about ten feet in front of her. Sitting anxiously in a black silk dress, Contessa was feeling beyond strange about this whole experience. What would she say to the people that wanted her autograph? What would they say to her? This whole set up was fucking weird and if she wasn’t contractually obligated to participate then she would be in her hotel room smoking cigarettes and reading Cormac McCarthy.

The first fan approached her and his shape blocked out the natural light coming in the front window of Gods & Monsters. He was wearing a double extra large Dickie Watson t-shirt that barely covered his ample stomach. He had a replica of the Project: Honor Grand Championship over his shoulder and was sporting some of the worst facial hair Contessa had ever seen. These are her people. Ugh.

“Hi Tess! I’m Kev and --” he started to say and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

“It’s Contessa. Not Tess.” she said curtly.

“Sure. Whatever. Like I was saying, my name is Kev.” he said and then started chuckling to himself as he pulled out his cellphone. She didn’t...she didn’t have to take pictures with them, did she? A noise rang out from Kev’s phone and he started filming her.

“I write for a wrestling news site called The Lateral Press. Can you tell me why you are teaming up with an enormous douchebag like Coltan Saint? You know what he has been doing right?” Kev said, snickering. His fat fingers could barely fit around his phone and it looked like it was taking quite the physical toll on him to hold it up to film her.

“Well Kev, I don’t make the matches. I also don’t really care. As long as Colton shows up and helps me win the match then he can fuck chickens behind an Arby’s as far as I’m concerned.” Contessa said with a snide smirk.

“Woah woah woah. Are you advocating for beastiality?” Kev could barely contain his joy! He got her saying something messed up, on camera! The traffic that his website would see because of this, he might finally be able to afford that sex doll that he had his eye on.

“If that’s what you took away from that then sure. I fully support those who want to fuck chickens.” Contessa scribbled down her signature on an 8x10 and slid it across the table. She sat back and did her best to look past Kev. There were at least one hundred people in line. She sighed.

“One more thing, one more thing!” Kev said. “Do you actually think you can beat The Commonwealth? You are kind of in over your head aren’t you?”

Contessa took a moment to consider the question. Did this pigeon really want her to cut a promo for his shitty website, right here? You’ve gotta pay money for that pal. “The Commonwealth has been on the decline since the end of World War II. I’m not worried. Next.”

One of the Gods & Monsters staff members moved Kev away, even though he was still filming and shouting questions. The next fan approached the table. A very thin twenty something who was in a nicely tailored suit and he was holding...a bouquet of flowers. Contessa’s eyes widened in horror.

“Hi Contessa. I’m Rufus and I am your absolute biggest fan.” He said, his voice shaky. A normal person would find this endearing. Contessa does not. Rufus lay the flowers on the table, his hands trembling. “These are for you.”

Roses. How cliche. What was Rufus’ thought process? Did he think that he would sweep her off her feet and they would grow old together? Come on. If he knew anything about her at all, he would know that she has no plans to grow old.

“Uh...thanks.” she says, pushing the flowers across the table with one finger as if was a piece of roadkill.

“I thought about bringing you dead flowers...because...you are the way you are. But my mom said that your whole deal is an act.” Rufus said.

“That’s what she thinks huh?” Contessa says cocking an eyebrow. “Why don’t you call her up, have her come down here, and I’ll beat her to death with a hardcover copy of Y: The Last Man volume one.”

Rufus didn’t know what to say. Contessa scribbled her signature on another 8x10 and slid it toward Rufus. He was ushered to the side and could be heard saying, “Mum’s in a wheelchair…” This made Contessa laugh.

And it continued on for the next two hours. Fan after fan, each as unremarkable and disgusting as the next. Two guys tried to get her to participate in a TikTok video and she responded by telling them that she had an endorsement deal with Vine and couldn’t participate. When they tried to explain to her that Vine was a dead app, she feigned a look of shock and despair.

It wasn’t until one of the last fans came to the table that she actually found herself interested. A young girl with pig tails and large coke bottle glasses approached the table. She was wearing a shirt that featured the same 8x10 photo that she had been signing all afternoon. It was clear that this little girl had made the shirt herself. Contessa’s greatest fear was realized...a fan had made her smile.

“What’s your name?” Contessa asked. “I like your shirt.”

“My name is Micky. I made this shirt myself. You’re my favourite wrestler.” Micky said.

“Can I ask...why?” Contessa queried. She was genuinely interested in why she would appeal to a girl who looks like she sleeps in a room painted pink.

“Because you do whatever you want. You don’t listen when people tell you that you can’t do something. I also like that you make guys that are a lot bigger than you tap out.” Micky said.

“I like that too Micky. Quite a bit.” Contessa said. “Would you like to take a picture together?”

This is what I get for being good.

At the last Proving Ground, Elena and I put in the work. We won and in convincing fashion. I was able to lock Josiah Scott in the Obliviator and he tapped out...rather quickly. I don’t blame him, that’s a devastating hold and that’s why I use it. Elena and I had our hands raised. I further proved that I can adapt to any scenario.

Long forgotten is my loss to Zane. It was my first championship opportunity and it didn’t go my way. C’est la vie. Since then I have been running through people and management is starting to notice. I was ranked number five on the Elite Rankings...whatever that means. I guess I should be happy about that but it hasn’t earned me any more money so I don’t really give a shit.

What I do give a shit about is this tag team match. This is my first chance in a main event position and even though I am an afterthought in this contest, I am still going to make the most of the opportunity. This is clearly meant to be a little preview for a match between Dickie Watson and Colton Saint. Much like Dickie’s partner Aiden Reynolds -- I am slated to be a background player in this match.

Unfortunately for The Commonwealth, that won’t be the case. At least in regards to me. I’m looking for more skulls and collecting that of the Grand Champion would be quite the accomplishment. I don’t have any particular malice or ill will towards Dickie Watson but he is the top competitor in this company. I have said since I first signed my contract that I want to face the absolute best. I will do whatever I need to do to get myself into these situations.

It didn’t take long.

Dickie Watson. I see you. I know that your whole schtick is that you’re an underdog, that you want to prove people wrong, or whatever the hell. Thing is though Richard, you aren’t an underdog. You are the top dog. Anyone who doubts you or looks past you is not only a complete moron, but they are actually shitting on everyone else on the roster. You are the Grand Champion, a feat that you alone have reached. Your pal Reynolds, he’s more of an underdog than you.

You are the standard.

Thing with being the standard is that everyone is coming after you. I didn’t expect that we would meet in a match for some time but my growing influence and reputation has pitted us against each other. Oh joy. Know that I know exactly what you are capable of. I know that if I can have a good showing against you, hell, if I get a victory over you -- then I make myself undeniable. I raise my profile to a level that it deserves to be at. I don’t care about being teamed with Public Enemy Number One. I care about taking down Number One.

Reynolds, I know that you are just Saint’s bag boy or whatever but we are in the same position. This is an excellent opportunity for both of us to ascend. What sucks is that you won’t be doing that. The Aussie Wolf? Please. I know that you are well travelled and you have paid your dues. I can respect that, I guess. But when you lose to someone like me, who has less than ten matches under her belt -- where do you go from there?

Not far, I bet.

You two call yourself The Commonwealth and aside from that possibly being the worst tag team name of all time -- it represents everything that I wish to rally against. A name like that suggests that you see yourselves as an empire -- despite Dickie’s aw shucks underdog nonsense. I don’t like the idea of empires. Or kingdoms. Anything of the sort. It’s cliche and quite frankly it’s boring. I take issue with people who get to go on television regularly just to be unremarkable.

Me. I’m remarkable.

I am something else entirely and after Proving Ground everyone that doesn’t see that as fact, will be forced to recognize. The Girl With A Death Wish is good for Project: Honor, I am good for wrestling as a whole. I am unyielding, I am relentless, and after Proving Ground I will have my hand raised. Again. As long as Colton pulls his weight, I will come away with the biggest win of my career. And Colton? If you have any notion of kidnapping me or doing any of that stupid shit -- you should kill me. Because if you don’t, I’ll kill you.

May I have this dance?