"Wave the Red Flag"

Thursday, July 7 2016
Location: City of Angels Wrestling Dojo

Earlier this morning, City of Angels Wrestling Dojo was bustling with activity. Coaches and trainees alike pouring their heart and soul into every training session. Shoes squeaking, bodies bumping and voices grunting and shouting. Blyss Lockhart had been amongst them. In fact, she was one of those giving instructions to them with their eager faces and sparkling eyes. Her good friend and owner of the Dojo, Flex Johnson, had given her a job there as a trainer where she has been spending a lot of her time. Since hurting her ankle during her last match at Portland Pro, she has stopped competing actively and takes up coaching instead. Why? It is for a reason she hasn’t quite admitted to herself yet.

The Dojo has just closed for the day and it now stands empty, except for Blyss. She stands before a punching bag suspended from the ceiling in the far corner. Still sweaty from today’s group session, she wipes her brows with the back of her hand then fixes the tape on her right fist. She takes a deep breath, suddenly feeling unsure of what she’s about to do. Focusing on her breathing, she hops from foot to foot as her body begins to loosen up in a familiar rhythm. The injured ankle is of course completely healed by now. No more wincing even. She exhales as she throws a right jab to the heavy bag and a left. She takes a quick pause to breathe in then goes for a speedy jab combo, right-left-right, and ends it with a spinning back elbow. Smiling now, she bounces on her feet more excitedly before attacking the bag with more jabs and elbows. As her heart races faster, she switches it up with kicks, each one more powerful than before. The bag shakes to her command, much to her satisfaction. Licking her lips, she hangs back just enough to control her breathing then lets loose a flowing combination of Muay Thai strikes that’s deeply ingrained in her. It feels amazing letting herself loose in this music only she can hear, the sound of skin pounding on vinyl over and over again in a merry thunderstorm. Her body moves automatically. Her every sense awaken. Pained, yet pleased. Hungry, yet satisfied.

How long has it been? Maybe half a year since she last wrestled a match. The arena lights, the roar of the crowd, the fear in her opponents’ eyes, the surety of her strikes… She has missed it all. It’s been far too quiet for far too long.

“Hah!”

One last spinning reverse roundhouse kick before she steps back, breathing hard. Her shins are starting to scream red. She turns away from the suspended heavy bag and focuses her attention on a mounted uppercut bag. Taking out a simple black cloth, she ties it around her head to cover her eyes as a blindfold.

Gavin Grimes.

He enters the ring now, she can see it. A thousand shadowed faces freak out with gaping mouths as if he gives them life but she hears no scream nor screech. The silence is deafening. The young man walks into the light, his blonde hair shining like halo above his head. As does the majestic NGW Unified Heavyweight Championship belt he carries on his shoulder. She sees his face, his young handsome face. The fire in his eyes. The determination in the curl of his fists. He smirks then extends his right hand to beckon her towards him. She notices the gleam of bold defiance in his eyes. Strange man, so strange. Here he is standing before her, yet he still wishes to do nothing but taunt her.

So she springs forward, torquing her hips before thrusting her right knee in a snapping motion. His head whiplashes from the explosive impact. She grins as it jolts her senses. Such gratification often seduces her to quickly drown herself in her own greed and bitterness so she fires up another knee strike. Again, and again. He’s at her mercy now, staggering backwards across the ring. He can’t fight back and this pleases her. The surprised look on his face quickly turns to fear as he finally understands her envy as clear as the greenness of her eyes. Blood splatters from his bleeding nose like pelts of rain.

“Gavin Grimes…”

The name comes in a soft whisper seemingly from the dark depths of her mind. Oh how long has she yearned to hear her mind speak again. It rolls through like a fog of thoughts of her yanking his head back with her raging claw, of her ripping apart the title belt that bears his name, of her snapping the neck of his beautiful wife just to make him weep, and of her scratching his eyes out till he sees what she can only see now — the bleakness of crushed dreams.

It won’t be easy, she knows that. Gavin is not one to back down from a challenge. He fights and fights until he can’t get back up anymore. He has come from nothing after all and risen to the top in an impressive amount of time. Far shorter than anyone she has ever known including herself. Especially herself. It took her long, torturous years to cement the foundation of her legacy.

She pauses, surprised at this sudden waking jealousy. She pricks up her ears.

“Hello?”

Suddenly Gavin knocks her down flat on her back. Gasps. Fading lights. She struggles to stay awake. She’s wrong all along.

“Ugh why are you so special, Gavin?”

After being Portland Pro’s Openweight champion for 149 days, she lost her title just as quickly as she had gained it. And along with it, her voice. No, her other voice. The one that sings to her during turbulent times. The one that tames her wild resentment as she reclaims what’s been stolen. Yes, that one that speaks directly to her, and to her only. She calls it her guide, her voice of reason. And it had come from the bowels of her subconscious as it took over every inch of her soul in her permission. Or perhaps, submission.

Nevertheless, it’s gone completely quiet now as if in abandonment.

This confuses her. It has taught her that competition is competition. It doesn’t matter who gets caught in the crosshairs, friends or enemies. Everyone is a threat so it’s much safer to keep them at arm’s length at the very least. She always listens, doesn’t she? So now, what? She doesn’t quite know anymore. The voice has left her pondering that alone at home while nursing the ankle injury. Her wrestling boots are kept untouched for months now. They serve no purpose, or at least a purpose she has long forgotten. She can’t go back to the ring anymore. Not without her guide.

Gavin now towers over her. The flames in his eyes are burning brighter than before. He raises her up to the ring ropes and they slither around her arms like dark serpents, holding her steady. He bellows, a cry so raging that it rattles her very bones and the ground they stand on. So much more life inside him. It’s not fair. She has infuriated him but she still feels hollow inside. She can barely lift her head up as the serpents continue wrapping themselves around her torso and legs but then stop, as if waiting for her last words. She tries to kick and wriggle, her body automatically resisting without thinking.

“I have more to prove… I just need… I just…”

But she has no more words. She has no guide, so of course she wouldn’t know what to say.

“AAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHH!”

Her scream rings through the Dojo as she finds herself on her back on the floor. Groaning, she clutches the back of her head. Every part of her screams for relief from pain. As much as she hates to admit it, her body is no longer used to training this intensely. She really doesn’t have time for this. Her match is just two weeks away. Frustrated, she pounds the floor mat with a clenched fist. Perhaps her body doesn’t remember the pattern anymore to get back into the groove of what she once loved so much, of what she used to breathe and live for.

“Tell me this isn’t punishment for my failure in Portland Pro. Comfort me that this isn't what I’ve been reduced to. I used to be more than this. I was one of the best, if not THE best! Please don’t let him or anyone else be better than me. This is all I know. Oh please take my hand and lead me back. I am lost without you!”

With the blindfold still covering her eyes, she sees only darkness which she always used to find comforting. But not right now. In this moment, all it does is mock her. Its presence confuses her like a protective blanket to a frightened child who now knows better that its thin layer can actually be broken.

“Well I’ve challenged a fighting champion. Blyss vs Gavin! I’ll make an example out of him. If I win, no one can ever mock my legacy again. It’ll be guaranteed for life! Blyss Lockhart is forever! That is what we’ve always wanted, isn’t it? That is the only way! Tell me I am right! Tell me I am not doing this for nothing!”

Emotions continue to flare up, tossing her up and about in a hurricane of her innermost thoughts. Melyssa’s thoughts.

“What will happen when I die if I don’t? At the very least, I must fight! I need to fight! A piece of me must live on forever. Don’t I deserve this? Not everything must end with death. It won’t be fair. It’s NOT fair!”

A few seconds pass and she slowly takes off the blindfold from her eyes. Darkness is immediately lifted as the bright lights of the Dojo greet her. Reality sinking, she blinks her eyes furiously. The uppercut bag that she’s been practicing on looms over her mockingly. She looks around the still empty place, feeling completely disoriented.

“Do I really want to fight my friend just because I’m afraid I’ll lose everything I’ve worked so hard for? Is it right just because it feels right? Why am I so ready to defend myself while tearing everyone else down? Do I really want this? Am I selfish? Am I that cruel? Is this me?”

She stares up at the ceiling in silence as she lies still. The air suddenly grows cold and her skin crawls. It feels like she can hear her very heart banging against her ribcage at this point.

“…Or is this you?”

A lone tear streaks down her cheek. She immediately wipes it away with the back of her hand, still trying to fight back. Still trying to deny the truth. But her chest is starting to hurt. She can’t keep dodging the real reason why she hasn’t looked for a new company. Gasping for air, she pulls herself up on the floor. She breathes deeply and struggles to put the blindfold back on with shaky fingers before she starts to sob. At least in the darkness, there’s no way to see how much she has actually withered away. Here, she can float endlessly instead of feeling lost and incomplete. Or vulnerable. And weak. Which one is Melyssa? Which one is Blyss?

This Sunday, the world might just witness the death of both.

Hungry for the kill
But this hunger, it isn't you
Voices disappear
When you're speaking in sombre tunes

Friday, July 22 2016
Location: Undisclosed

The following is a promotional video for IWF’s Resurgence. The scene opens to a medium closeup shot of Blyss Lockhart looking right into the camera, bare faced with slightly flushed cheeks and bloodshot eyes. Her hair is pulled back in a high ponytail that enhances her sharp cheekbones and the grit in her jaw. Behind her is a simple black backdrop with nothing else revealed. There is only a very long moment of uncomfortable silence as she stares quietly, her chest heaving visibly.


She pauses, shifting her jaw. The look in her eyes intensifies.


Her lips twitch slightly as if to smirk but instead, she scoffs.


She bursts out a short laugh, almost pained like a wheezing. But she squeezes her eyes shut momentarily as she inhales sharply, hissing through clenched teeth. In that split second, her face seems to morph into something very unlike her. After all, jealousy makes for a hideous mask.


She raises her hands immediately to rake through her hair in a frustrated manner as she closes her eyes once again. Anger rises just below the surface, reddening her face. Yet her rapid breathing remains controlled as if she’s quelling the brewing storm within with all her might.


Tilting her head down, her eyes widen as they gaze at the camera. Her lips part in a sort of amused smile but her face quickly reverts to neutral. Her eyes gleam with mischief.


She throws her head back and starts laughing, spreading her arms like a proud soaring eagle.


Laughter slows down to a chuckle as she looks back at the camera. The amusement on her face has faded.


She leans in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper.


I lay my head on the floor
My beating heart wanted more
But I'll keep it in and keep you out


OOC

“Hunger” lyrics by Of Monsters And Men