Post by Maggie Lockheart on Dec 25, 2021 13:10:43 GMT -5
//Trigger Warning - Violence - Intense Themes//
- Prologue -
- Prologue -
The Scotiabank Arena... in all its majesty.
It's hard to describe what the end of a journey looks like. Everyone's different. But there is something that feels so right and so wrong about being here. Beautiful Toronto, Ontario. Christmastime. The bright strings of multicolored lights hang alongside twinkling garland and the (obligatory) boughs of holly. The massive skyscrapers all are lit up like holiday trees... but hopefully, they're mostly empty by now.
A reflection of the moment.
The flurries of people and the drifts of snow that aren't all that uncommon in the Great White North seem to only add to the festiveness. No one cares that there's a chill in the air, that the bitter breeze has a sting like a thousand little shots of Jin on their faces.
And for me, feeling that butterfly flutter; it's not so much the holiday sentiments. It's not the fuzzy red and white hats.
It's looking up at the billboards that trace a December skyline. Reading the scrolling text in all the grand LED displays. It's Christmas all over again because now it's Revolution1's Christmas Chaos. I finally get to pass through the great looking-glass threshold of the arena and the first thing I see is my own face, 30m tall and 100m skyward.
Lit up like the North Star...
"Hey there Maggie, whatchu' doin' here so early?"
Must've heard it a thousand times from a thousand different Revo1 workers; at least one of which must've hung the grand banner above me. Magdalena Lockheart vs. Jin Min-Jun... Legendary Championship. I wish Tommy were here to see this. I wish Eddie wouldn't have to be missing him right now.
"I'm here to help set up."
I reply a thousand times over. It's what I do. It's what I've always done.
They laugh.
"You can't help set up the ring. You're in the world title match for Christ's sake. Are you crazy?"
I chuckle. They don't understand why. They'll never understand why.
I came to Revolution1 with just myself: my name, and my legacy. I can leave the same way.
But I never asked for anything more than a fight.
And I knew, deep down, in my heart of hearts, this moment would come.
MML.2021.024 - "Bitter"
I'm backstage... more naked than I've ever been.
Doc's got my silver hair pulled up on the left side of my head. Beneath that, a hideous scar... and a surgical plate. He's analyzing just how well my burned flesh has been healing... from you know, Jessie Lee, XYZ and the 10,000v steel cage.
"She ain't pretty, but she looks like she'll hold up," he says, giving my trauma an identity.
I chuckle.
His last line could be the title of my autobiography.
He smiles at me like he did me a favor.
"Now can I go set up chairs?" I ask.
He shakes his head. "Sorry. You're booked for a sit-down with Adriana... champ."
"Adriana?"
"Rviz," he elaborates, "You know, Legacy-brand interviewer? Diamond hire?"
I shake my head.
"What happened to Jerika?"
"She's still around."
"Oh."
The Doc jots down some notes. He gives me a checkmark. A green light. A clean enough bill of health to go ruin it all over again.
My shot at Jin draws ever closer.
"Don't worry, you'll like the new girl. She's cute."
She better be.
I'm back beneath my banner again, waiting as patiently as I can.
I don't even realize I'm tapping the toe of my heels against the ground. I check my watch. Either she's late, or I was just that early. At least other superstars are starting to trickle their way in as well.
For a moment, I think back. May. Interstate Lovesong. The Glory tournament. I had all but just signed on.
Back then the banners were different. I remember walking through the doors six months ago to see Tommy and Eddie flying the faces of Sierra Silver. Dweck. Aphrodite IX.
Like a cool breeze that brings goosebumps to my skin, I can almost imagine a Toni Beasley, a Sara Pettis, or an Amber Payne looking up at my banner the same way I did Silvers.
None of us last forever.
"That... is one hell of a poster."
I'm startled back into reality.
"Hi. Sorry to keep you waiting. You must be Magdalena... am I pronouncing that right?"
"...and you must be Adriana."
We shake hands. Doc was right. She is cute.
"So, you ready for your big moment?" Adriana asks as she focuses on my face. The bigger one.
Part of me thinks it's a trick question.
Adriana takes me back for an interview. The Revo1 camera is focused solely on my glowing green "mako" eyes, trying to read the honesty in my answers to the world's toughest questions. Like a champion, I made sure that I was well-dressed and represented not only myself but the millions of people I work for.
But the interview kept getting interrupted by the buzzing of my phone.
(Eddie: Hey Mags. U got a sec?)
"Is there... something wrong?"
I shake my head as I place my phone back face-down on my lap.
"Not that I'm aware," I reply.
Adriana smiles. "Okay, good. We can continue."
I can't say that I'm all too comfortable with my "red carpet" dress, as I'm always shifting my legs and/or pulling the skirt back down.
"So, where were we? Oh yeah... Jin... he's pretty tough."
"Yeah?"
Is this even a question?
"Being his opponent, could you uhh... elaborate on Jin's toughness for us a little bit?"
(Maggie: Kinda in the middle of something right now... why?)
(Eddie: NBD. Wanted 2 catch up b4 show starts.)
(Maggie: Yeah, sure, np.)
"If I'm... interrupting-"
"No no," I chuckle and try to hide my phone away, even from myself. "Yeah, no, right, tough. So tough. Very... very tough. Yeah. Tooouuugghhh-"
"Right. Moving on. Do you think Jin would make a good... kisser?"
I can literally feel my eyes widening.
"I dunno. Ask Damien Carter." I reply with shrug. "He might know."
"Come again?"
"Damien Khaos Cart-" I sigh, "Whatever."
(Eddie: Kewl. Meet in my office when u can.)
(Maggie: Oh shit)
"What about Jin's catchphrases?" Adriana asks, "He has such a magnetic presence on the microphone... which one is your favorite?"
I look back up again. The light behind the camera catches me in the eyes. I blink.
"The one where I take his mic and beat him with it."
She gasps.
"You know, you're not a very nice person."
I chuckle.
"Next time you want Jin's ass kissed, interview Jessie."
I stand up. Finally. For myself.
"We're all done here."
Sitting in Eddie's makeshift office, I feel more nervous than I did in front of the camera.
"Chief Safety Officer," I smile at the little placard I assume Kylie had made for him, "Look at you go."
There's a bitterness hidden within the smile. Tiny teardrops that sit in the corners of his eyes that don't know how to fall.
I understand.
"Tonight's ya big night Maggie, how you feelin'?"
His thick, New Yorker accent always reminded me of home... of simpler times... a long time ago.
I shrug in response.
"Whaddya mean 'you don't know'?" Eddie's eyes light up like logs in a fireplace on Christmas morning. "This is Jin Min-Jun we're talkin' about... what he did to you... now's your chance to get even."
"Yeah, I know, but-"
"No buts," Eddie slams his fists down on his desk and points at me, "You know who you are. You go out there, an' you take care of this. You take care of yourself, first, sure, but you. take. care. of. this. You get the job done... and ya do it... for Tommy."
I lower my head.
"...for Tommy."
No pressure. Absolutely none at all.
Eddie smiles at me. Smiling, but I know he's still hurting.
Just like me.
291 days.
That's how long I've been champion.
That's how long I've been the face of a company. A franchise player. A goal for young talent to aspire to and a target for everyone else to aim at. It's not Revolution1 business and no one cares... true. But I'm saying it because I do know what it's like to be in your position.
More importantly, I understand.
291 days ago was early March, and I wasn't even in Revolution1 at the time. But let's set aside the championship talk for now. Let's go back five years, like the Ghost of Maggie past.
2016. New York City. You and I both are eerily familiar with the place, sure.
More importantly, we understand.
A frail, skinny little girl. She's more likely to pick up a pencil or a paintbrush than ball her fist. She used to laugh, she used to sing. She used to have friends and dabble a little with this acoustic guitar she had. She had nothing, no money or status to her name. But she felt like she had everything. She was an artist. She liked to create. And when she and her friends struggled to live she opened up a little tattoo shop on the corner of 10th Avenue and west 207th, right under the Metro station bridge.
Stop me if you've heard this before, but late one night... dark alley... two men, one cold steel blade.
She woke up in the ICU wondering just how grateful she was to still be alive.
The world is an ugly place sometimes.
Life is one big no disqualification match.
And I...
I understand.
I've gotten to know a lot about you Jin since you attacked me back in August. Losing the then Horrorcore championship was quite a blow, sure, but it's not as if the title, belt, or status really mattered. A shot of Jin is a bitter strike, but what struck me was how similar our paths truly were. We both came from nothing. Both literally know what it's like to sit on the same streets not knowing where our next meal will come from. I know that we know the fear, and the anxiety, both of which can make anyone do terrible or amazing things. We know that kill or be killed isn't a mentality.
It's our reality.
I don't think you knew because I never told you. I never told you why I was so bitter about your interference in my match. See, for a moment right before that little girl passed out, blade plunged deep below her navel, she happened to glance up into her attackers' eyes and... what do you think she saw? Guilt? Remorse? Shame? No. She didn't see any of these things.
She saw... happiness.
She's dying... and it brought a sickening smile to his face.
Fast forward three months. The artist finally walks back into her shop and all of her friends smile. They welcome her back, but she doesn't feel like she's back. Constant nightmares keep her awake at night. She tries to pick up a brush again, but the only color she can paint with is black...
They want her to go to therapy. She doesn't want to. They insist. Once again, she feels like her choice is taken away.
She doesn't feel safe leaving her own shop at night... so they buy her a gun, a can of pepper spray, and a whistle. They tell her to be more careful.
I UNDERSTAND-
There wasn't a damn thing more terrifying than just being inside her own skin. They cut her SO DEEP that she'll NEVER GET TO LIVE OUT HER DREAM. She liked to create... and damn did she want to be a Mom someday.
He took that from her. He smiled and laughed as he pushed the knife in deeper.
...life's one big no disqualification match.
Anything goes. All's fair. All's right. Nothing to forgive.
Yeeeaaah fucking RIGHT...
It's not that I don't respect your abilities in a match or a fight. You're not the men who attacked me that night, and, you never will be. But see, I get it, I understand just what it felt like for the Brooklyngun, Mr. Heart and Seoul of Revolution1 Wrestling. I may not know of your struggle on a personal level, but I get shitty circumstances.
I get what it's like to have people depend on you and to fail them. The same reason why you surround yourself with "friends" is the same reason I stay away. I'm not interested in Death Row. Couldn't give a shit less about whatever, albeit clever nickname you come up with for yourself this week. I don't care if you and Jessie and Khaos and the Diamonds and Moore all have an orgy even if I won't be invited. But I thought we were a lot alike, at least at some point in our lives. Yet as I found out, you and I don't fight for the same reason.
And we are not the same.
Not even close.
Fear made you faster. Anxiety made you stronger. The drive to overcome the mean streets vaulted you from some kid no one would take a second look at to the number one on every list.
...yet see... here's what makes us different...
Top pick. Top guy. You won the gold, just like you won Glory... and hey, congratulations, I mean that. But when you're the guy who gets drafted number 1 just like everyone else on the roster dreamt they would and you jump right on Twitter to complain... because "Legacy" doesn't rhyme with "Jin" like "Sin" does...
Shit.
When you're the guy who built a nice little stable for himself in the middle of all his "I could do it on my own... but I don't always want to" speeches. You said you want us "to come up to [your] level", but Jessie was the one that needed your help that night. Not me. Your bullshit excuse for surrounding yourself in protection and insurance is a lie. You're clearly nervous someone's Left-Hand reboot is gonna pimp slap your status back down to injured reserve.
That you may have been just be more lucky than good.
Shit.
You call yourself a champion and the face of a company? You're just as confused and out of your depth as you are immature... your constant flipflopping grates me, it's the one thing about you I don't understand. But you dare look me in the eyes and compare those little chips on your shoulder to the boulders I carry on mine EVERY MATCH... EVERY FIGHT... EVERY FUCKING TIME?
Jin, you don't DESERVE the RESPECT that you DON'T KNOW HOW TO GIVE. But I won't fault you for that. I understand. You gotta do it for your family. You gotta fight for Momma. All the little Min...ions? out there can't, or won't, fend for themselves. Just like what you project onto Jessie and the rest of your crew. Life's one big no DQ match and this time, you're holding the knife, so, you make the rules.
...
...
...right?
291 days.
All's fair, apparently, so this ain't even about the title for me, but I'd be damn glad to take it from you. Just like you did me. But I'd be willing to settle this in other ways if you are. Like I've said, I'm patient. I don't crave the validation from the tournaments I've won, or the titles I've won... but I am proud to know what I'm capable of. Right now I'm just fucking disappointed, Jin. Disappointed that you think you can keep driving the knife in while smiling about it.
I came here as a World Champion and I helped set up chairs.
You won the big gold, cost me my title because of "friendship" and still MOCK me to this day because my friend DIED in an accident.
SCREW YOU JIN. You insecure piece of SHIT.
You didn't overcome the streets. You became the streets.
YOU DIDN'T SILENCE YOUR HATERS... YOU BECAME ONE.
I bet your mother is really proud.
I'm going to fuck you up, Jin... You wouldn't understand how to be a true champion even if I wrote you the fucking manual. 'How to Not be a Fucking Dummy... for Dummies.' You fucked with the wrong girl, pal. You think you're stabbing me with your little jabs when the only thing you've pierced is your own reflection. You don't even realize that you're killing your own legacy one word at a time. Bitch, I KNOW who I AM. I overcame the same streets that you did, so... Smile into the "broken" mirror, ASSHOLE.
You're lonely. You're hurt. You're cold. You're scared.
I UNDERSTAND-
But unlike you, I'm not cruel... so I've set up a little fundraiser...
Cause I want Momma Jin to know that she'll be okay even though I'm about to whoop every inch of her baby boy's spoiled little ass!
Screw the title. When I'm done with you... You'll have no legacy, no posse, and no brand. Not a Nickle for your momma, either. Christmas Chaos won't be big enough. You want to see a Legendary performance? You got it. If they want a Revolution, I'm about to make a war. Death Row records won't know what hit them until its too late... cause I've already pulled the trigger. 2022 might be time you all might want to consider a career change.
In other words, do what Silver did, and get out while you still can.
You ran your mouth. You cost me a championship. You mocked me, berated me, and disrespected everything that I stand for every chance that you got.
All's fair...
BUT-
ALL-
IS-
NOT-
...
...
...forgiven.
291 days is a long time to be a champion. You're on the way, but, if you don't happen to make it past this one...
I understand.
My name is Magdalena Marie Lockheart. Embrace it. Remember it. Get fucking used to it.
Khaos, Cerise, Jessie, Jin...
The revolution is in my hands.
This one's for Tommy.
