Hi there! My name is Kayleigh, but most call me Kay. I write fanfiction and drabbles for mostly AEW and Impact Wrestling, with a heavy emphasis usually on original character interaction. I am open for requests that I feel comfortable for, depending on the character! Feel free to ask if I write a character if requesting pieces!
I do have a list that I will not write for that includes:
Jimmy Havoc
Sammy Guevara
Joey Ryan
Michael Elgin
Dave Crist
Marty Scurll
Jay Lethal
Jack Gallagher
Jordan Devlin/JD McDonagh
Matt Riddle
El Ligero
Velveteen Dream
Saraya
The quiet hoot of an owl was the only sound as Adrien Pike shoved the last of his belongings into the faded knapsack he carried. He didn't want to do this. Leaving so late at night could be dangerous out in the Wasteland. It was easier for the worst of the worst to get a hold of you at this time of night. But with the sun up, that meant that the two men snoring on the other side of the dimming fire would also be up.
And Adrien didn't have it in his heart to look Chuck Mambo in the eyes as he left.
It wouldn't be the first time that Adrien had left his sleeping partner. When the doubt crept it, when Adrien was unsure of where they were headed, it drove him away. Things had been fine enough lately. The little nomadic duo had been comfortable enough living off scraps of left over encampments. It felt good and right, as right as the end of the world could be. It wasn't until they had reunited that Adrien had felt that doubt in the corners of his mind.
TK Cooper was unsuspecting like that.
TK and Chuck had been as thick as thieves in the world before. It was their personalities, kind and soft, that made them so similar. There was an edge to TK, however. Chuck could be too soft when it came to a fight. TK, however? TK did what needed to be done, no questions asked. It was the one thing Adrien admired for him. TK covered any spot that Adrien could possibly fill.
Adrien shouldered his pack, about to leave, when he heard the voice from behind him, "What do I tell Mams when he asks why you left?"
He stopped, turning his head to look over his shoulder. The outline of TK Cooper sat up, using a stick to poke the dying embers of the fire. "Teeks...I..."
"You what, Adrien?" TK questioned again, "You'd do this to him? Just up and leave in the middle of the night?"
"I'm doing this because I c-"
"You care?" TK scoffed, "Ya have a funny way of showing it! Do ya know how badly you almost broke him last time? Hm?"
Adrien turned to face TK, "What would he need me for, hm? He's got you, mate!"
TK stood, his height towering over Adrien's, crossing over to the shorter man. Adrien bristled, ready for the fight he was sure was coming. Instead, TK wrapped his gangly arms around Adrien, "You dolt! He's not the only one who needs you! It's me and you and him against the world! Not or!"
Adrien seemed to melt into the other man's chest, letting his shoulders sag, "You mean..."
"Can't defend him on my own," TK laughed, looking down at Adrien, "now c'mon. Let's get back to bed. Least we'll be packed in the morning."
Sneaking into The Capital was damn near impossible, but if there was any reason to do it, it was love. Cameron Grimes had done far stupider things for far less payoff, after all. Doing something so reckless for the chance to see the woman he had fallen in love with seemed worth it in his eyes. In fact, he had gotten quite good at it as of late.
Cameron would do anything that Holly Cole asked.
He still remembered the day he had met the rich girl from The Capital. Cameron had managed to sneak just past the wall that separated the Wasteland in all its desolation from The Capital in all its splendor. The intention was to steal food, something that was getting harder and harder to find out beyond the wall. After ducking through alleys and past stalls selling everything from clothing to trinkets that he had no use for, Cameron had found the girl crying in an alley. She was beautiful, soft blue eyes in a round face, though her hair and makeup was messy. She had been crying for a while, judging from her bloodshot eyes. Everything in Cameron had told him not to get involved. She wasn't his problem.
And yet, Cameron's heart was too big to turn away.
"Hey, darlin'," he leaned against the alley wall, a smile on his face. He was aware of how he looked, his beard unkempt and hair long. His clothes were torn and tattered, a far cry from the fashion of the Capital. "What's got a pretty girl like ya cryin'?"
The woman wiped her eyes, trying not to be seen as weak. Her hand darted to her side and she spat back, "I don't need your-"
"Woah, woah," Cameron held up his hands in self-defense, "I don't mean ya any harm! I just wanna check on ya! Can't leave a pertty girl cryin' in an alley. My momma would kill me."
The woman didn't move her hand, "This...it's a family matter..."
"Family, huh? Bet it's somethin' nice an' fancy with the way yer lookin'," Cameron gave a playful nudge, "What is it? They stop ya from seein' yer boyfriend?"
The woman suppressed a smile, wiping at her eyes, "You're quite the charmer. Definitely not from around here."
"That obvious, princess?" he chuckled as he ran a hand through his long brown hair, "Nah, The Capital ain't my style. Only reason I'm here is for food."
She hesitated again, a rebellious grin taking her lips, "I can show you where the good stuff is...uh..."
"Cameron," he offered a hand for a hearty shake, "and ya are?"
"Holly."
That had been that.
Cameron had followed his heart, and her lead, to get food. he had never expected to fall in love with a girl from The Capital. One time sneaking in past the city walls had turned into time after time after time. Soon the promise of food wasn't even important. All he cared about was seeing her, making sure his Holly was alright. She had quickly come to mean everything to him. Sneaking into the Capital had come to mean nothing.
Whumpril 2024
April 7th, 2024
HESITATION
Ludwig Kaiser/Sadie Cullen (OC)
Apocalypse Verse
They called her Little Mother and it was part of Marcel's job to keep a close eye on her, both in the world before and in the world now.
Sadie Cullen had always been the epitome of grace and sophistication. Even if the new world was not kind to those who had once called the arts their profession, it did not mean she was any less of an artist. Sadie's form of expression had always been the dance, ballet primarily. It was how she had fallen in love with Walter, the leader that Marcel followed no matter what. It was also how Marcel had come to fall in love with Sadie, their Little Mother.
Now, here in the world after, it was up to the men of Imperium to protect Sadie and her best friend Alyssa when threats like this came calling.
The horns that signaled the arrival of one of the worst men in The Wasteland, a man they called The Redeemer, rang out throughout the Imperium encampment. Marcel had been sitting with Sadie, enjoying the quiet morning, as the horns sounded. He was first to his feet, glancing at the third man in the room, Fabian. "Is he here?"
"Yes," Sadie answered for Fabian as she got to her feet, eyes darting from the door to Marcel. He had expected the fear in her eyes, but there was something deeper at the core. Worry? No, no she would never worry about this. She turned to Fabian, "Go find her. Please."
The her in question was Alyssa Santos, the encampment medic. Even in a terrifying moment like this, Sadie's thoughts were of her best friend. It was part of that selflessness that made her their Little Mother. Fabian ran to find the other girl just as fast as he could. From another part of the makeshift camp he could hear footsteps, meaning that he had no time to get Sadie to safety. Marcel pulled her behind a set of crates, signaling for her to remain low and silent.
Just as a hard thwack from behind connected with Marcel's back.
Marcel turned on his heel to see the well-dressed man behind him, holding a black baseball bat. This couldn't be the Redeemer, no. This scrawny, barely threatening thing had to be one of the Redeemer's well known lackies. If he had to guess, Marcel assumed that this was the man who called himself The Artiste. The bald man swung his bat again, only for Marcel to catch it with one hand. He pulled in, using his grip to pull the other man in with him. Marcel caught the stranger with a headbutt, sending him sprawling to the ground. The stranger glanced towards where Sadie was hidden, closing his eyes after a moment.
Marcel raised the bat high, about to send it crashing down on the stranger's face, when suddenly Sadie was between the two. "Little Mother, move out of the way!"
"Marcel...I..."
There was a hesitation to her voice and it caused Marcel to lower the bat. "D...do you know this man, Sadie?"
She looked at the ground, as if ashamed, "Marcel...what you should understand is..."
"Speak, little mother," Marcel took a gentle hold of her chin, tilting the woman's face up to meet his piercing blue gaze, "do you know him?"
"His name is Matthew Rehwoldt...and he...he's my friend."
She wasn't cut out for this new world and Alyssa Santos knew it. Even before the world had fallen into total disarray, it was never kind to those who refused to play dirty. Those who acted with only kindness and benevolence in their hearts were either dismissed or completely taken advantage of. And now? Now the worst of what could happen was that they were left for dead and their encampments raided for supplies. Had she been alone, Alyssa knew that would have been her fate.
Thankfully, she wasn't alone.
The one thing kindness was good for was making allies and friends. Alyssa's best friend since she was a child had been Sadie Cullen. Well, Sadie Hahn these days. Since the end of the world, Sadie had married her beau Walter. That marriage had meant that Sadie and Alyssa were protected by the Imperium encampment. Walter led his two closest allies, Marcel and Fabian, on many successful raids of their own. When not needing to hunt and scavenge, Walter ran the encampment with an iron fist in order to protect those he cared for. That meant that when a new threat came calling, Alyssa was also protected.
A new threat like the man who had come with hopes of taking things from the Imperium encampment was currently coming.
Everyone knew the man who called himself The Redeemer. Miro was a brute of a man, who used brute force to take the things that he wanted. Some said that whenever he arrived, the trumpets would sound as if announcing a god himself. Those who lived in the Wasteland with any knowledge of the Redeemer had heard of the way he destroyed the encampment of a man known as El Idolo. It was why, when the trumpets had sounded around the Imperium encampment, Walter had been more than ready.
Miro had attacked with his strength and two of his own minions, a smaller man who looked at if he belonged in The Capital known as The Artiste and a brute of a man who simply went by the name Fulton. While Fulton and The Artiste had headed for Marcel and Fabian, Miro had gone straight for the medical supplies that they had come after. The very supplies that Alyssa, the camp medic, protected with her life. Her head swam as she looked for any weapon she could use. "St...stay back! I won't let you..."
Miro looked her over, a chuckle in his throat, "Come now, malko prasence, do not fight over this. You will not last."
"I'm not afraid of you!" Alyssa shouted, though there was a little tremor in her voice. She stuffed the little med packs into the pockets of the pink apron she wore, though her eyes still searched for something to defend herself with. "I...I'll scream!"
"Not afraid, but you will scream?" Miro laughed, stepping closer to the young woman with a frightening grin.
Alyssa could feel her head swimming, dizzy in her panic. She took a step back, running into the wall behind her. Her soft blue eyes landed on one of the crates she used to prepare her medical supplies, specifically on the scissors she used to cut the bandages. Her hand darted out to grab the pair, though her head still seemed to swim. "I...st...stop!"
"What do you plan to do, hm?" Miro placed a hand above Alyssa on the wall, an eyebrow raised, "Do you think it will stop if you stab me?"
"I-" she wanted to faint, to pass out.
Miro's free hand pulled at the pair of scissors in her hands, cocking his head to the side as she refused to let go, "Come now, malko prasence. Do not make me hurt you."
Alyssa tried to wrestle the scissors out of his grasp and, in one fluid motion, she shoved them forward into the skin of his hand. Her eyes went wide, surprised at her own actions. It wasn't the blood that surprised her. She was a medic, blood was nothing. But knowing she had hurt someone, even in self-defense, was new. "I said let go."
Miro raised his hand, blood running from his palm onto the dirt floor. His eyes narrowed, nostrils flared in anger, "Oh, malko prasence. You should not have done that."
He lunged for her, but Alyssa didn't back down. She moved towards him, plunging the scissors into his thigh, eliciting a pained grunt from the Redeemer. She pried them open, the skin ripping as she did so, causing the man to fall to his other knee and crashing into the wall. Alyssa turned, still woozy on her feet. In the shadow of the doorway stood her savior, Fabian. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close to him. "Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"
"I'm fine," Alyssa gave a timid whimper, watching the downed Redeemer, "He-"
"He will have to pay for his crimes," Fabian gave her hip a gentle squeeze, "Let us tell Walter."
Whumpril April 2024
April 5th, 2024
RECKLESS
William Regal
TW: Drew Gulak
Main Verse
There was a pride in seeing his son doing so well within the company of his choice. That was, after all, why William Regal had chosen to make his return to said company. Despite the pride he took in his Combat Club, they were not his children. There was a different sort of pride when it came to ones progeny, after all. It was also, in turn, why he was so worried about the sort of company his son was keeping. Particularly, William Regal was concerned with Drew Gulak.
Most would find that laughable, he was well aware of that. Drew was extremely unassuming, just one look at his history in 205 Live proved that. The PowerPoint Presentation era of Mr. Gulak was not indicative of who Drew Gulak was as a competitor. No, this era of Mr. Gulak was the true Drew Gulak. He was strong, sharp-minded. As evident with the rest of the CatchPoint Gym, Drew knew how to get what he wanted through violence and careful planning. Regal recognized the man Drew Gulak was because he was that sort of man.
It was why he knew that his son was making the wrong choice in letting the man dictate his career.
Maybe it was reckless, showing up to the locker room the Catchpoint boys used. With some careful prodding at Ava Raine, the woman who had taken over for his old position as general manager, Regal had even been allowed inside of the room. He had taken a spot in a chair in the corner, patient as possible. The door opened and, as predictable as ever, Drew was the first of the team to arrive. If there was any surprise that Regal was waiting for him, the Philly native did not show it. He crossed to the bench, placing his bags down. "Mr. Regal. I've been expecting you."
Was that a smirk Regal detected in his voice?
"Expecting me, Mr. Gulak?" Regal raised an amused eyebrow, a chuckle in his throat, "For whatever reason would you be expecting me?"
"Yes sir," Drew removed his ring jacket from his bag, not turning to look at the other man as he spoke, "ever since I started mentoring your son. Though, I have to say, I've been a lot more respectful to yours than you've been to mine."
Now that was an interesting statement.
"Your son, Mr. Gulak?" Regal questioned, standing and crossing to the locker, "As far as I know, you were unmarried and without children."
"There's lots of ways to have kids. Adoption is one of them, sunshine."
Sunshine. The mere thought of the man brough a soft smile to Regal's face. There was only one man that Drew could be referring to. "So. Young Master Wheeler is your progeny?"
"Since I took him under my wing, I've viewed that boy as my own son," Drew finally turned to look at Regal, an anger in his eyes, "And you routinely beat him bloody. You routinely beat him into submission."
"So that is why you have the interest in my Charles, then?" Regal questioned, "I assure you, he is made of far stronger stuff than you believe."
Drew shook his head, "No, no. You misunderstand my intentions, your lordship. I don't plan on harming him like you did my Wheeler. I plan on making him greater than you ever were."
Hey guys, thank you so much for reading and reblogging while I've been away! I was out of town for WrestleMania weekend with my fiance and a couple friends of ours, and I'm only logged into this account on mobile, so I haven't been able to thank everyone!
Quick little update about the next piece for the April Whump Challenge! I wrote these back at the end of March, so obviously real life can change between now and then. The next piece involves Drew Gulak, who had accusations made against him early last week. I will be tagging it as a TW, even though nothing happens in the piece. Thank you for your time!
Whumpril 2024
April 4th, 2024
SWAYING
Cal Finlay (OC)
Main Verse
He swayed when he got nervous. It was a habit he had shown since he was younger. Back then, instead of more proof that he was on the spectrum Cal Finlay had simply been told to stop. His brother didn't sway, their father had once pointed out, because he knew how to control himself. He knew how to listen. Yet, no matter how much he tried to stop the swaying, Cal found that it brought him peace.
Today was one of the days where he found himself swaying the most.
For The Love of Progress II was going to be a fun show for those in attendance. Cal had been so thankful that he had been invited. Progress Wrestling was, after all, where he had begun his wrestling journey. He may have been working in Japan with his brother these days, but his heart laid with the company where it all began. Had everything gone right, he would have been booked on the show, but Cal knew how important the match with the Grizzled Young Vets was for his friends Maddox and Harlow.
It was a surprise, then, to see his brother David make his way out to the ring with his partner Lyra Dawn at his side. Why was David here? When had he gotten here? Cal tried to recall if his brother had told him he would be coming to the show, tried to remember if David had been on his flight. In truth, they hadn't spoken much since David had lost the IWGP Global Championship the same night that Cal had become the NJPW Television Champion at New Beginning. David had never been interested in Progress. Why now?
Cal didn't realize he had been swaying on his feet as his brother began his tirade.
It started with the statements against Will Ospreay and Spike Trivet. Cal hadn't really cared about that. The war that had been waged against Ospreay and his men in the United Empire still played hell on his body, his bicep especially. And Trivet? Cal had never forgotten how the so-called sovereign lord had humiliated him by sending a straight jacket to his house during their feud. It wasn't until David had started in on his best friends, Maddox and Harlow, that Cal felt his anger building towards his brother. He couldn't stop the show like this, he couldn't say whatever he wanted about his home.
Cal's swaying turned into footsteps and he found himself standing across from David in the ring, microphone in hand. "Enough, David. Enough. These people don't wanna hear it. Maddox deserves his spot as champ."
David gave Cal a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, clapping a hand to his brother's shoulder, "There's that fire, Cal! I'm glad you're finally standing up to me! And here, in Progress, where I have such big news to tell everyone!"
Cal looked confused, brow furrowing in thought, "News?"
"War Dogs have needed some tuning up for a while, Cal," David gave an almost sad look in his brother's direction, "and you? Well...I just don't think you make the cut."
Cal didn't realize what was happening until the forearm caught him from behind. This group of attackers had some familiar faces among them, David and Lyra's partner Jace Sweeny mostly, but otherwise it was overwhelming to pick anyone out. The four men to one was too much, even if Cal threw some hearty punches. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. Hadn't he been a good brother? Hadn't he always done everything he could to support David?
The biggest of the three, a muscular beast of a man with his hair pulled tight into a knot at the top of his head, took hold of Cal's arms as David paced back and forth. "Please..." Cal muttered a quiet plea, being forced to kneel on the mat as he was held firm, "We...we can talk about this..."
David stopped, holding a hand out to Lyra, who produced the shillelagh that he had been carrying for so long. He admired it for a moment, speaking plainly, "Look at me, Cal."
"David pl-"
David placed the shillelagh under Cal's chin, pushing his head up so that their eyes met, a sneer on his face, "I told you to look at me, Cal. Why can't you ever listen?"
As David slammed the weapon into his temple, Cal found himself swaying again.
This time it was in pain as he fell, unconscious to the mat.
Whumpril 2024
April 3, 2024
SHAME
Alex Shelley/Chris Sabin
Main Verse
Two hundred and eighteen days.
Alex Shelley had been the Impact World Champion for two hundred and eighteen days. For most people that would be a title reign to be proud of. He had faced off against and beaten some of the best in the world. Hiroshi Tanahashi, Josh Alexander, even Jonathan Gresham had stepped up to the plate and all had been sent back to the back of the line. He had led the Impact roster all the way into the new era of TNA. They were all honorable moments.
So losing to a cheat and a bully like Moose brought him so much shame.
The sun was rising against the Las Vegas skyline, but Alex had yet to go to sleep. His mind raced with the events of the night before. What if he had been just a little more aggressive? What if he had put just a little more of himself into the match? Would the championship still be sitting next to the hotel room television, reflecting the hotel room bed where he and Chris Sabin currently laid, his partner pressed into his side snoring peacefully.
Chris.
In his loss, Alex had almost forgotten to congratulate Chris on his historic win. It was officially the longest reign that Chris had ever had, his tenth as X-Division Champion. El Hijo del Vikingo was no joke for such a young talent and Kushida, well, Alex felt like it would be cheating to say anything more about this best friend. Alex was certain that Chris would have preferred meeting up with some of the other roster members for drinks and a laugh. instead, Chris had stayed behind to hold Alex until he fell asleep.
"You could do so much better than me," Alex murmured to his sleeping companion, pressing a kiss to the top of Chris's head. He attempted to get up, but Chris snuggled in closer and tossed a leg over both of Alex's to trap him there.
"Shuttup," Chris tiredly murmured, burying his head in the crook of Alex's neck, "'stoo early for this."
Alex gave a small laugh, "Go back to sleep. I'm just gonna-"
"You are gonna do nothing but sleep," Chris protested, raising his head to scowl at Alex. It would have been much more intimidating if he didn't have to squint at Alex to properly see him. "I don't wanna get up. I don't wanna have you get up. I think I earned it. Ch-"
Chris cut himself off, closing his eyes before Alex spoke up, "No! No, you're right! Champ's privilege. You earned it. You did so good."
"Yeah, but you-"
"Let you down, that much I know," Alex admitted, "I should-"
"Shut up and kiss me," Chris nuzzled the back of Alex's neck, "we are gonna lay in this bed til you go to sleep."
"I don't need sl-"
"I said we are gonna lay here til you get some sleep," Chris groaned a little more forcefully. He tightened his grip on Alex, who sank further into the mattress. He may have felt shame, but at least he knew Chris was here to love him through it.
Whumpril 2024
April 2, 2024
SWEAT
Mark Haskins/Vicky Haskins
Main Verse
With a jolt and a labored gasp, Mark Haskins woke with a start. It was the nightmare again. For the last week, for every week since Flash had ended up turning his back on him, the nightmares had been gradually reoccurring. It wasn't that he remembered much of that day. One moment he had been standing in the bar, laughing with Vicks and a few other friends. The next, he was coming to on the floor of the bar, paramedics asking questions and the look on his wife's face.
It was that look on her faced that had caused Mark to wake up in a cold sweat. he had never forgotten that look of absolute fear on his wife's face, had never forgotten the absolute terror in those tear-soaked emerald eyes.
Mark slowly peeled back the sweat stained covers as he sat up in bed, attempting to get up without waking up his sleeping wife. He had just swung a leg over the side of the bed when he heard the soft, "Where are you going, love?"
Mark looked over to see Vicky facing his side of the bed, her red hair haloed around her head. She was soft in the early light of the morning, a far cry from the woman who accompanied him to the ring night after night. He swung himself back into bed, pressing a kiss to her forehead, "Was going to stretch my legs, Vicks. Go back to sleep, love."
"You're having them again, aren't you?"
Mark took a slow, measured breath, "Vicks...I..."
Vicky moved a strand of his sweat soaked hair out of his face with red-painted nails. She cupped his bearded cheek, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, "You don't have to lie to me, pup. A man doesn't wake up barely able to breathe for no reason."
He gave her a sheepish look, "I didn't wake you, did I?"
"Only a little," Vicky gave a soft smile, scratching his beard with her long nails. They laid like that for a moment, the silence between them a comfortable one. His heart rate had started going down, Vicky's presence always seemed to calm him like that. "You're alright. See, pup?"
"You know I still don't remember that day?" he softly informed, resting his forehead with hers, "I...I'd never ask you to talk about it...but..."
It was Vicky's turn for silence. Her brow furrowed in worry as she recalled exactly what had happened that day. "We were talking. Was me, you, and-"
"You don't have to say their names," Mark comforted, one of his calloused palms resting itself inside of hers. The event was hard enough to recall without thinking of the friend who had betrayed them so badly.
"Well, we were talking," Vicky began slowly, swallowing thickly, "and then you just stopped and collapsed. We...we called the paramedics and they said that...that your heart just...stopped."
"My heart couldn't have stopped," Mark shook his head in protest.
"Mark it's what they-"
"But you were okay. How could my heart have stopped when you were just fine?"
Whumpril 2024
April 1, 2024
LIMP
Tyler Bateman/Savannah O'Ryan (Original Character)
Main Verse
These new friends her Vincent found himself surrounded with were not exactly the kind of men that made Savannah O'Ryan comfortable. Maybe it was because she was still stuck on how exactly Vincent had joined up with said new friends. The betrayal of the man she loved against her brother, TK O'Ryan, and the man she considered a brother, Matt Taven, had been something that broke her at the core. Meeting these new friends had not been any better.
But Savannah was a bleeding heart, so seeing anyone who needed a home tugged at her heartstrings.
Tyler Bateman reminded Savannah of a Victorian gentleman in a way. It was in the way he carried himself, using a cane to work as a fashion statement instead of a support. The top hat he wore added to the mystique, though she knew it was all in the mustache. The way it twisted at both ends, as if curled perfectly, stood out to the young manager. It made Tyler unique, even alongside the larger of Vincent's new friends, a simple man by the name of Dutch, and even Vincent himself. It was that uniqueness that almost always drew her attention when he was around.
That wasn't the case tonight.
Vincent, acting as the benevolent leader of his new team The Righteous, had chosen Bateman as the representative for the team in the annual Survival of the Fittest tournament. If Bateman could qualify, could make his presence felt, it would undoubtedly lead to glory for the team. The problem was that Bateman had lost to Bandido, had not moved on to the qualifier. The honor was lost and Vincent was not pleased. Before he had led Dutch and Savannah to the ring, she had tried to plead with him. "Vincent, darlin', please. He's your friend, ain't he? You ain't gotta be mad at him..."
Vincent had simply given her the smile that did not reach his eyes, carding a hand through her wavy blonde hair, "I gotta do what has to be done, Vannah. Ya dig what I'm sayin'?"
Now here the three stood, circled around Bateman who sat looking dejected in the center of the ring.
"You know I would never lie to you like the rest of society, man," Vincent began, sitting down cross-legged on the mat next to Bateman, "I know you were born with the devil in ya. I mean, that's why I gave you the mission, man. And you've done amazing! You've done such a good job! But on my journey alongside the orange sunshine, I had a moment of clarity, and I've realized what's been important to me now. And that's the Ring of Honor World Championship."
He had sounded happy for a moment. Savannah stood in the corner, watching the tears in Bateman's eyes. He really had done well, despite his loss. Dutch stood behind Bateman, never faltering, never wavering. Savannah often wondered if the former clown knew more than he let on in situations like these. Vincent's hand reached out to touch the openly sobbing Bateman's shoulder and Savannah expected a moment of praise. Her blood ran cold the moment Vincent spoke again.
"But ya failed me..."
Savannah moved forward and whispered to her beau, "He's upset enough. You-"
Vincent cut her off with a look. The message was clear. This message needed to be passed on, it served a purpose, and she was not to interrupt again. "Death," Vincent continued as he glanced back at Bateman, "is the greatest form of love."
Tyler raised his arms, outstretched to either side, and closed his eyes. Savannah was confused until Vincent glanced from her to the man offering himself as a martyr. Vincent expected her to attack, to be the first nail to the cross. Wordlessly, her blue eyes welled up with pleading tears. She wanted to beg, to ask why they had to sacrifice a friend, but the look in Vincent's eyes was a demand. They had to do this, for the cause.
She had to do this for him.
Savannah booted Tyler in the face, the sole of the black snakeskin boots she always wore landing hard against his cheek. She knelt over the top of him, one hand on his neck and the other throwing weak punches. She wasn't a fighter. She shouldn't be doing this. "I'm sorry," she mouthed at the limp body beneath her, at the friend who offered no fight. Vincent pulled her away after a moment, wrapping his arms around her from behind. Dutch finally moved, pulling Bateman's limp body into a standing position and wrenching his head back to expose Bateman's throat.
"This is what failure brings," Vincent whispered in her ear, pressing a kiss to her hair as Dutch lifted the man for a spinning slam to the hard canvas of the mat, "This is what failing you brings."
She was crying openly now, one of her hands on her red painted lips, "I don't...I don't understand. Why...he's our friend..."
"He's a sacrifice for my goddess," Vincent chuckled, "he will come back better. Stronger."
Vincent let go of her, crossing to exit the ring with Dutch. Savannah knelt at Tyler's side, holding his limp hand in her own. This wasn't right. None of this was right. She slid the flower crown she wore from her head, laying it against Tyler's chest before pressing a tender kiss to his forehead. It may not have been right, but that act of kindness was the least she could do.
