Out of all the matches you've planned, this one's probably the easiest.
You know your goal: having a good match. You know your opponents; hell, you live with your opponents. It's been almost a year since you first met them, and honestly it's a little hard to remember life from before they were down the hall from you. While you might not spend every waking moment with them or even most waking moments, you normally see them both a couple times a day. You're in constant communication.
So when the three of you sit down to plot your match in the locker room, your ideas all just sort of bubble up and congeal together into one whole concept. The entire process takes you maybe two minutes, and most of that deals with the start and the finish, and how to integrate you heeling it up.
It goes by so quickly and in such a rush that it leaves Leah blinking, stunned. "Uh, are you guys sure you're done?" she asks doubtfully.
You and your friends trade confused looks. Yeah, you're sure you're done. Why's she asking?
She shrugs. "Alright. I guess you guys know best. Tommy, you're sure you only want me in there for one spot? I can do more."
"Yeah, I know. But it's the first match on the first show. It's not a good idea to overwhelm everyone with spot after spot of outside interference. Just the one spot should do. Just do your normal thing otherwise. We'll play off each other."
Leah nods. "Solid. Okay, I'd better go see how Cal's doing. I'll be back before entrances."
With that settled, your prematch planning is completed. You're already changed. You're already warmed up. So that just leaves one thing to do. It's time to get pumped up as f*ck.
Your forehead crashes against Jack's. "You f*cking ready for this?!" he bellows in your face. You shove him back and headbutt him back.
"Damn right I'm ready for this!" You spin and shove Allie. "You goddamn ready for this?!"
Allie reaches out and pushes both of you. "I was born ready for this you dumbasses! Now let's get this f*cking popping!"
It takes some doing, what with Allie's shorter height, but you manage to get a good threeway headbutt going. You're barely aware of Leah off to the side leaning over and asking Jerome, "Do they do this every time?"
You think Jerome shrugs. You're too busy yelling to make sure. "I don't know… Tommy and I never did this. Maybe it's just when they're wrestling each other?"
Any further contemplation is broken up as a crumpled piece of paper bounces off your skulls. You look over at Daybreak to see her glaring at you. "Shut it! I can't even hear myself think!" You shrug and continue what you were doing, only silently. She rolls her eyes. "That's the best I'm getting. Hit the music."
A mousey looking guy you honestly didn't notice gives Daybreak a thumbs up before hitting a button on his keyboard. Daybreak's longest running theme starts blasting out over the grainy school sound system. Daybreak gives it a few seconds, counting down, before pushing the curtain open and striding out to the ring. The crowd lets out a roar of greeting. She acknowledges it with a steady nod and a fistbump for an eager kid before joining Carly in the ring.
As the crowd turns their attention to Daybreak, you poke your head around the curtain. Time to get an idea of what you're working with tonight. The crowd definitely isn't the largest you've ever seen, but it's way more then what some of the smaller indies draw. Without checking the tickets, you'd have to guess maybe a hair over a hundred people placed in the seats around the ring. Not bad. Hector did a solid job with the promotion, especially considering he was doing it part time as he commuted from Boston.
Daybreak takes the mic from Carly and taps it once. Feedback hums through the air. She nods, satisfied, and holds the mic to her lips. "How're you guys doing tonight?" She asks. The crowd cheers, and she smiles broadly. It's creepy- you've never seen her this animated before. You guess it's just the switch that veteran wrestlers can flip when they're in front of a crowd.
"That's great! I'm doing great myself," she continues. "Because you're all here at Horizon Wrestling!" After the requisite pop, she continues. "Tonight, you lucky few are going to be the first to see a show made up entirely-" Behind you, you hear Omid hold in a cough. "Of my students! They all trained just miles away at Horizon Academy right here in Baltimore, Maryland!"
Around you, everyone, from the completely green rookies to the most grizzled vets, chuckle at the cheap pop. Once it dies down, Daybreak finishes up. "If you think you can hang with the men and women that you'll see tonight, make it through what they do, you can check out the school at Horizon Academy dot com. Do you have what it takes to step in Pro Wrestling? Find out at Horizon! Now that that's out of the way, I'll turn everything over to our mistress of ceremonies. Everyone, give it up for Carly Chaos!"
The crowd claps politely as Carly takes the mic. She beams at them. "Thanks Daybreak, and thanks to all of you who made it out tonight! Welcome to Horizon Wrestling! Horizon Wrestling operates under North American Rules. That means a five count will be enforced, any wrestler who cannot answer a ten count is disqualified, and the match ends on pinfall, submission, or referee stoppage! Horizon operates under intergender rules! That means men can fight women, and women can fight men." As Carly goes through her spiel, Daybreak takes the opportunity to slide out of the ring and slink backstage.
She shoulder bumps you as she passes. "Don't f*ck up," she growls.
"Inspiring!" you call after her. You can't say anything else though. Carly's introduced Brad as the referee. There's nothing left before the opener. It's time.
"The following is a three way dance, scheduled for one fall with a twenty minute time limit! Introducing first…"
Violent guitar blasts out over the speakers. Allie hops in place for a moment, cracks her knuckles, and gives you both another shove. "Alright, boys!" she beams. "Let's kick this sh*t off in style!" Without any further delay she turns and sprints through the curtain with a bellow.
"Introducing first! Weighing in tonight at One Hundred and Thirty Seven Pounds! From Richmond, Virginia! She is Allison! Sky!" Allie whoops and slams one hand against her chest, beating it like an angry ape. That's new. But it works. The crowd roars their welcome.
The guitar cuts out and silence reigns for a second. Then the sound guy hits his cue and the world is overtaken by heavy base. You reach into your jacket pocket and pull out your aviators, sliding them on. You offer Leah your arm. "Shall we?"
"We shall!"
Normally you'd give the crowd a second to get into the song, start a clap, that kind of thing. But tonight, you're a dick. You strut out through the curtain before the song's gotten much further then it's opening notes. "Check it!" you yell. "The man has f*ckin' arrived!"
Boos pop up, but not so many that you can't clearly hear Carly's introduction. "And her opponent! Accompanied to the ring by LeLe Danger! Weighing in at Two Hundred and Ten Pounds! From Portland, Maine! The Aerial Assassin! Tommy! Corsair!"
A few people cheer you, one even wearing a Wildcard shirt, but you don't pay them much mind. You treat it like it's your due. Instead you focus on the people booing your co*cky demeanor. "Please," you snort. "You all know you wish you were me."
"Why?! Be a half naked scrawny piece of crap?" A fan heckles. Excellent!
You drop your aviators down, looking at the guy over the top of them. "You're telling me you don't want to look like me, you sniveling chucklef*ck? Better me then looking like some doughboy motherf*cker, am I right babe?"
Leah cuddles up to you, and she looks at the heckler with scorn. "Damn right, babe. Who'd even want to touch that?" She rubs up against you, her leather pants snug against your tights. The two of you take a complete pass around the ring as the music blares. More hecklers speak up, and the two of you cut them down. Your message comes across loud and clear. You're Tommy Corsair and LeLe Danger. You're badass. You're better than them. And you f*ck.
Leah takes your jacket off your shoulder and spins you around, going face to face with you. She leans in, nuzzles you nose to nose, and plucks the glasses from your face. Your 'girlfriend' shoots you a wink before putting them on herself. "Go mess them up, stud."
You roll into the ring and pose as Allie stares a hole through you. You decide it's time to throw a new wrinkle into the heel Corsair: out and out chauvinism. The Playboy bleeds through as you look her up and down. "Don't get jelly sweetness," you say with a wink. "If you want to take a ride on the stallion, I can find some time in my schedule."
She walks towards you with her fists clenched. But you duck backwards and position yourself behind Brad. "Not now, babycakes," you say as you duck around the ref. "Later. Later. After the match."
Brad holds the two of you apart, and Carly takes center stage again. "And their opponent…"
Low growling fills the gym. You stop taunting Allie to turn and face the entrance. You've never seen Jack come to the ring from this side before. You can't wait to see what the book looks like on this end.
It… doesn't look like anything. The music plays, but no burning book appears near the curtain. You trade a look with Leah, the only person out here it's safe for you to look at. She gives you a minute shrug. Yeah, you don't know either.
Finally, well after his normal entrance point, Jack strides through the curtain. His book is open, but there's no fire. "Arest thou prepared to repent?!" he bellows out.
Carly picks up her cue. "Weighing in at Two Hundred and Twenty Four Pounds! From the Narrow Place! The Symptom of Decay! Jack Salvation!"
You don't know what it is. Maybe it's something clearly going wrong with his prop. But whatever it is, it's got Jack out of sorts. His usual religious dogma and yells about damnation are lackluster and get the heat they deserve- not much at all. He's more getting polite boos if that's at all possible. By the time he gets to the ring, you see him fuming. Hey, works for you. If he's pissed off, his offense is going to be more believable.
Brad glances around at the three of you and looks towards the back, waving two fingers in the air. The bell rings. The match is on.
Immediately you go face to face with Jack. He sneers at you from half an inch away. "Dost thou dare stand against my majesty?" he barks out. "Thy should forfeit instantly and save thy self worth!"
You chuckle as you stand back, waving a hand in front of your face at the smell of his breath. "The f*ck'd you just say?" you ask mockingly as you glance over at Leah. "Babe, the f*ck'd he just say?"
Leah gives an exaggerated shrug. "I think he was trying to tell you to quit."
You think about it for a long moment. "Nah, that's not possible. Because that'd mean he's a f*cking dumbass who ain't worth the respect I give the hairs on my ass." One guy in crowd lets out a loud oooh before declaring that you've given Jack a sick burn. You ignore him and look back at the Preacher.
"Tell you what, hellfire and brimstain. You turn your little cape around and me and the lady'll finish up here in like five minutes. Then you can go preach and moan and do whatever it is you do when you're not bothering me."
You hear Allie stamp the mat in anger, but you don't look at her. Instead you and Jack keep trading barbs as you completely dismiss the third person in the match. The crowd is starting to get antsy as Allie boils with more and more anger. Finally, she cracks. "Hey, dickcheese!" she snarls.
Both you and Jack turn to her in one motion. "The f*ck'd you-" "Dost thou dare-"
Her response is an old-school Three Stooges move and it takes you both by surprise. Allie reaches out and slaps you both across the face in one fluid motion. You stagger back in stunned surprise and Jack falls to one knee. Allie follows it up with a kick to the side of Jack's face before charging you, bouncing off the ropes and sending you flying.
You've established your characters, and it seems like the little byplay is doing great at getting Jack's head back in the game. Next step: making Allie look like a world conquering badass. It's a task she takes to with a will. She sprints around the ring, laying in forearms, kicks, flying off the ropes with headscissors and doing everything she can to beat both you and Jack down at the same time.
The crowd starts cheering, drowning out Leah's cries of protest. Allie whips you into the corner and starts laying in shoulder blocks. Jack tries to grab her from behind but she ducks, sending him sailing into you. Then it's time for even more shoulder blocks, this time to Jack's six-pack. Three, four, five, shoulder blocks, all in a row. The crowd pops even louder as she somersaults backwards into the center of the ring, pumping her arms.
Alright. That step's done. Next: beat the f*ck out of her. Jack handles the first part. As Allie celebrates her badassitude, he rushes out of the corner towards her exposed back. He bends and drops, delivering a vicious looking chop block right to the back of her knee.
At least, it should look vicious. Jack definitely does his part. The move is textbook. But instead of crumpling like she she should, Allie's leg goes stiff. It's the complete wrong sell. Jack has to save it by awkwardly grabbing her and twisting into a weird single leg takedown. He does his best, but the momentum is lost.
Jack pops to his feet, looking desperately at you to make the crowd forget what just happened. The only thing you can do is just keep on keeping on. Move fast enough and the crowd will ignore the botch. You sprint over and the two of you start putting the boots to the fallen face. Allie twists and writhes and does her best to block, but the pair of you are merciless.
You can't stomp for too long though. That'd be boring. Jack scoops her up to her feet and pulls her in, knocking Allie back down with a quick short-arm clothesline. You follow it up by turning around, firing a finger gun at Leah- who catches it and holds the imaginary bullet to her heart- and flipping back into the Moonsault Knee Drop. The crowd groans, but not as much as Allie as your knees bury themselves in her stomach.
This time it's you that rolls backwards, popping to your feet and raising your arms in celebration. Another chorus of boos answers you; good. They've temporarily forgotten the sh*tty sell. You still need more distance from it though. You need something more impressive to wow them.
Your mind races through a few ideas as you and Jack dissolve your temporary alliance and lock up. He gets the better of the grappling in short order and shoves you in a side headlock. As you push him off, you decide on your move. Jack knocks you and down and goes for a cover. "One… two… no!" Brad counts.
"Palm, spin, then rana." you mutter under the cover of the crowd's chant.
"You serious? You just learned how to do that!" he hisses.
You scowl at him. "Palm, spin, then rana," you repeat.
Jack doesn't seem happy about it, but he doesn't protest. He releases the pin and goes to pick you up. As you regain your feet you explode up, breaking Jack's grip on you with a quick move. He stumbles back and you add to it with a quick palm thrust to the jaw. Jack spins around like a top, winding up with his back facing you.
You pause before you leap into the reverse hurricanrana. What'd Delilah tell you? Say something cool before you do it? And then she'd started yelling internet memes? ...f*ck it. You can do that. But not the Juggernaut. Just, just no.
You point another finger gun at the back of Jack's head. "Hey, Preacher Bitch? Get f*cking dunked on!" You leap before he can turn around, posting off his shoulders and rolling backwards, depositing him neatly on the top of his head. As you roll, you glance at Leah. She already has her little black gimmick book out and is taking notes. Good stuff.
You roll to your feet and Jack rolls to the apron. You've killed enough time for Allie to get back in the action. She's on you before you're fully turned around. Punches and kicks pepper you, some this close to actually hurting. Still she holds herself back. You block some strikes and lock up again, this time getting the better of the grappling.
The crowd's moved on from the horrible sell. That means it's time to move to the phase of the match the three of you called 'accidental teamwork'. You and Allie go through some basic spots- mostly not f*cked up- as Jack sells getting dunked on. He's back on his feet quickly. You whip Allie straight at him and he catches her, lifting her up in a guerilla press in one fluid motion. He holds her there just long enough for the crowd to register what's just happened before sending her sailing through the air at you-
Where you meet her with a kick to the stomach. It's tricky; you've got to kick with enough force to make it look good but not enough to actually bury your foot in your friend with the force of… well, a kick meeting a flying body. But you pull it off. You barely touch her.
In fact, you do it too well. Allie lands on her feet, not registering the kick at all. She shoots you a questioning look, and you glare at her. All at once she realizes what's just happened. She falls down like she's been shot. Another selling botch. For f*ck's sake!
You can't even distract the crowd with more impressive sh*t this time; this is one of the few spots the three of you already choreographed! You'll just have to go forward and hope for the best.
Jack has the same idea. He scoops and slams you, then legdrops you across the face. He stands and moves much more quickly then you're used to from him, bouncing back against the ropes as he picks up speed for another leg drop. But you counter- rolling towards him and trapping his feet with your legs in a drop toehold. You scissor your legs and send him stumbling forward-
Right into a knee strike from a recovered Allie. The sound of it echoes through the gym, drawing groans of sympathetic pain from the crowd. The groans last just for a second though; this time it's Jack who's f*cked up the sell. It's like he forgot it was fake for a second and did everything he could to dodge the knee strike. The result is a horribly botched spot.
Anger and frustration, already building in you, reaches a head. Why are all three of you f*cking up?! You're better than this! And here! Now! With almost everyone you know watching! You're putting on this kind of sh*tty performance?!
Allie makes a move towards you as you stew, but the choreographed spot's not done yet. "Hey!" Leah calls from the outside. "You f*cking looking at my man, you bitch?!"
Your punk friend freezes and turns to your pretend girlfriend. "I'm kicking his ass!" she snarls, as if she can't believe what she's hearing. "Not trying to feel him up!"
"That ain't what it looks like! You try and touch the majestic Tommy Corsair again, and Imma f*ck you up hardcore!"
Hm. She brought back majestic. Nice.
Allie's thoroughly distracted. You push yourself off the mat and face her. The look on your face must be legendary; the side of the crowd facing you almost flinches away as they get a view of your mug. One little girl starts pointing at you and jumping up and down. "Behind you!" she calls.
"Behind me?" Allie questions and slowly turns.
If she doesn't sell this right…
Drop down. Straight! Palm Thrust! Jumping Knee! Full House! You land on your feet wearing a grin the size of Kansas. Nice! It-
...She didn't sell it right. She's frozen in place. Again, you barely touched her, and again, she spaced on the move.
With anger and frustration that's not at all feigned, you reach out and grab her by the head. "f*ckING GO DOWN!" you bellow six inches away from her face. As an exclamation mark you leap straight up, dropping to your ass and pulling her down in a facebuster.
It's like a switch is flipped.
The crowd, which had been polite at best moments ago, rain boos down on you like they're going out of style. One fan actually gets up, jabbing a finger at you and screaming something you're pretty sure is a slur. There's no sight of any of the phones or bored faces you'd seen before. You f*cking have them.
You pop back to your feet and spread your arms wide, welcoming the boos. "Drink it in!" you call. "Take it all in! Come on! You don't like me? Then try and stop me! Come on, take your best-"
Jack's behind you before you can finish your taunt. He grabs you and hoists you straight up with strength born of frustration. Jack launches you high, plucking you out of the air and smashing you to the ground with the Fall From Grace power slam. You spread your arms and legs out wide- like you're a loony toon that's just run into a wall.
Your friend straightens up, spreads his arms out with fists clenched, and roars. A mixed reaction greets you. Apparently the crowd likes that he beat the f*ck out of you, but not so much that they actually like him. Perfect.
Jack vanishes from your sight in a blur of purple and black as Allie tackles him before he can makes a cover. From your spread eagle position you can't see what's going on. From the ebb and flow of the crowd, you're pretty sure that Allie's got the advantage but is slipping. You chance a glance; no one's looking at you but Leah. You catch her eye. Slowly, she makes her way over to your side. "What's going on?" you breathe out, lolling your head to the side like you're gathering your bearings.
"Allie's got the mount, she's punching. She's punching. And, there, Jack's swept her. He's got her in some kind of lock."
"Tap!" you hear Jack bellow. "Tap!"
"But you figured that out," Leah continues. "Are you breaking it up, or do you want me to handle that?"
You make a lightning quick decision. "Handle it. Then let Allie waffle you. You're done after."
Leah makes a minute nod and sprints to the other side of the ring. "Hey! Hey, you blistering pieces of toejam!" she calls. The ring thumps as she slams her hand into the mat. It shakes more as Jack, presumably, releases his Serpent Stretch and stands.
"Dost thou-"
"Speak normal, frenchy!"
That's enough time lying on your back. You start pulling yourself up and get to your feet just in time to see Leah climb on to the apron herself and go nose to nose with Jack. "Yeah, you better look at me when I'm talking to you!" she bellows. "You-"
Allie puts and end to that. She sprints at the turnbuckle, hops onto the second rope, and springboards off, nailing Leah in the face with a dropkick. You suppress a flinch as she tumbles to the ground; sh*t, that looked nasty. And she's wearing your aviators! Those'd better be okay! You spent money on those!
You stare gormlessly at your fallen fake girlfriend for a long moment. It's long enough for Jack to blast you again, sending you back down. From your new kneeling position you can see Allie attack him and get stuffed. He grabs her up in press position one more time before transitioning her so he's holding her up with one hand on each arm.
"Sign of the Cross!" he yells, naming his move. He goes to slam her down-
But no. She slips behind, grabbing one of his arms as she goes. Allie doesn't waste time naming her move; she pushes him, spinning him in some parody of a dance move. Once their joined arms are fully extended she pulls him back in and leaps, catching his head in perfect DDT Position. Using Jack as a pivot she dips, winding up back on the mat with her legs straight up in the air.
Jack has no choice but to follow. They complete what's honestly one of the sickest DDTs you've seen. The crowd agrees. Holy sh*t chants fill the gym. You'd love nothing more but to join them but no; that was Jack's last spot. You've still got to wrap this up.
You leap to your feet and bullrush Allie, knocking her back with your sheer size. She stumbles back against the ropes, bouncing back towards you. You drop to your knee again, drawing your fist back for another Full House.
But Allie leaps over your straight, clearing you entirely. As you stand up in shock you feel her hand grab on to your wrist. A small hand pushes you forward and pulls you back- and then just like Jack, you've been hit with Allie's Codename Implant. You're spread eagle once again, this time in the center of the ring.
She doesn't stop there. Instead she backs up and leaps over you, running straight for the turnbuckle. One hop puts her on the middle rope, and she springs to the top before flipping backwards into one of her picturesque moonsaults. Allie rotates with all the grace of her years of training and slams down on top of you.
Brad slides into position as Allie hooks your leg and puts her head next to your ear. "Thank you so much!" she gasps out.
"One… two… three! Ring the bell!"
*Ding Ding*
You don't move a muscle. None of that kicking out just after three bullsh*t. You were just hit by both of Allie's finishers. You're f*cking dead. You remain that way as Allie stands over top of you and raises her arms. "The winner by pinfall!" Carly calls. "Allison Sky!"
Allie's music blares and she celebrates like she's just won a world title. She walks away from you and climbs a turnbuckle, posing and moshing her head. You don't move at all. At least, not until Brad starts pushing you towards the apron. Once you're there, Leah takes over, slinging your arm over her petite shoulders and helping you stagger to the back.
You arrive to polite applause from the crowd. Leah leads it after you free her from your weight, whooping it up for you. You smile and wave to them. Acknowledgement from your peers is rare. You need to absorb this while you can.
It's a good thing you do; the moment doesn't last. The applause goes until a red-faced Daybreak storms up to you. Then everyone else seems to find something else to do. Even Amodeus and Brian Nichols, lingering by the entrance as they wait for their turn, find something fascinating to inspect on the wall.
Daybreak jabs a finger at your chest. "You," she gets out between gritted teeth. "Chair. Now." She jerks her thumb behind her at a small circle of folding chairs she's set up.
Oh, this does not bode well. You look for support, but only find a sheepish looking Leah holding up her hand like she's still in high school. "Um, ma'am? Me too?"
Daybreak spares her a glance. "Nah, you're fine. Solid crowd work. Go do your thing."
Leah lets out a sigh of relief. "Thanks. Good match, Tommy! I've got to go get changed for Cal's. See you after!" She runs off with her tail between her legs. Alone and abandoned you take a seat in one of the indicated chairs. The idea of doing otherwise doesn't even occur to you.
At least you're not alone for long. Jack's the next one to stagger backstage and he gets similar treatment. Allie's the last after a good minute of celebrating. She takes the third seat, leaving just one.
It's a seat that Daybreak doesn't take. After Amodeus is on his way out, she storms back to your group and kicks it to the side so she can remain standing. Daybreak seems at a loss for words after venting whatever she's feeling, so she settles for glaring at you all. "And what," she finally gets out. "Was that?!"
No one wants to answer that question. After a very long moment Jack speaks up. "A… a good match?" he hazards.
A muffled shriek builds in Daybreak's throat but doesn't escape. It's like someone's strangling a dolphin in her lungs. "A good… match?!" Oh, great. The gritted teeth are still there. "You call that a good match?!"
Allie's the bravest of you all. "Um, yeah?" she asks innocently. "Did you hear those people?"
"People," Daybreak snarls. "Are f*cking lemmings with an attention span that'd make a fruit fly pity them! They don't even remember what they had for breakfast let alone if they just saw a good match! And they didn't! They saw the last three minutes of a good match! They saw a good finish, a hot finish! What the f*ck was up with the rest of it?!"
In exacting detail, Daybreak proceeds to list off every single thing the three of you did that was wrong. Allie gets a two minute diatribe about her failure to sell. Jack gets an abridged version of the same and a rant about his lack of believable striking. You're ripped up one side and down the other for obvious spot calling, match design in general, and an over-reliance on established moves.
"How is that f*cking punch going to help you in the Midwest?!" Daybreak barks when you try and protest. "In Canada? In Mexico? Japan? f*cking Luxembourg, anywhere! These people are starting to catch on to your schtick and so it makes them happy to see it. But other people?! Other people ain't going to be watching Mid Atlantic indy wrestling. It won't do sh*t!"
She rants and raves for so long that the second match starts, runs it's entire course, and finishes by the time she's done. Finally she wipes sweat from her forehead. "Now! Here's what you chucklef*cks are going to do! You're going to sit here, watch the f*cking show, and since I apparently failed you worse than I thought, you're going learn how to goddamn work!"
This time it's Jack who raises his hand. "Um, boss, Master, Daybreak, teacher um… can I be excused? I need to catch a bus."
Daybreak stares at him, nonplussed for a long moment. "Right," she finally says. "You're heading to Fargo. Yeah, get. But you will study the tape."
Jack nods eagerly and when Daybreak looks away, shoots you a pitying look. "Bye!" he mouths and hauls ass away from the chairs.
Daybreak grabs chairs and plants them down next to the curtain where you can get a good view of the show. She gestures to them imperiously. You and Allie take a seat.
At least for a moment. Halfway through the next match, Allie shakes her head. "f*ck this," she mutters. "I need a shower, we killed it, and sure, there's sh*t to work on, but we can do it like we're not in f*cking detention."
She stands up, ignoring Daybreak's glare with a shrug that you envy. "Peace. Catch you later."
As she walks away, you realize something. Namely, Allie's right. Daybreak might be your mentor. She might be your teacher. But she's not actually the boss of you, no matter what the two of you act like. If you wanted to you could get up and do whatever the hell you wanted to!
And there's no shortage of things for you to do there. Omid's back there after all; you could try and clear the air there. Or there's other people to talk to. Leah might want help going over Caleb's match or you could help the rookies or any number of other things.
Daybreak fixes her glare on you.
...or you could sit here and watch the show.
What do you decide to do?
[] Omid's in the back. You're going to get up and see what he's up to. Maybe pick his brain on your match.
[] Allie's got the right idea. You're going to get up and take a shower. Then you and your friend will go over the match yourself
[] The Sausage Kings of Chicago are going up against Assassination soon. You know all those rookies. Maybe you should help them put the match together.
[] Caleb's going up against The Snailmail Destroyer, and Leah's in that match. You could pop over there and see how they're doing. Offer Caleb an olive branch.
[] You've seen 'Retribution' Pete Winthrop in passing, but you don't think you've exchanged more than a dozen word with him. He's a fairly big name locally. You should get on his good side.
[] ….you're going to sit here and watch the show.
[] Write-In
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Mechanics Changes
Skill Changes
Heel: Average 490/500 -> Impressive 524/1500
Cool: Impressive 650/1500 -> Impressive 681/1500
Selling: Impressive 1157/1500 -> Impressive 1196/1500
Aerial: Impressive 1456/1500 -> Elite 1500/2500
Basics: Impressive 628/1500 -> Impressive 630/1500
Athleticism: Average 425/500 -> Average 443/500
Mat Wrestling: Average 360/500 -> Average 368/500
Brawling: Impressive 788/1500 -> Impressive 790/1500
Merchandise Changes
Wild Smile T-Shirt: 76 -> 75 (No Expenses Gained! 17 until next expense)
Wildcard Playing Cards: 99 -> 99 (No Expenses Gained! 22 until next expense)
Corsair Skull T-Shirt: 73 -> 60 (One Expense Gained! 20 until next expense)
Autographed 8x10s: 10 Sold! (No Expense Gained! 12 until next expense)
