TITANS OF THE MIDWAY CHAMPIONSHIP

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“And what do I ‘ave to do to get your number tonight?”

“Fuck off.”

Anastasia nearly growled at the man, causing him to promptly back away. She checked the time on her phone. Nearly closing time and she wasn’t even drunk yet. That was a problem for her. She finished off the last bit of Stella in her glass and requested a refill. Time was passing by at a snail’s pace between the time it took for the bartender to fill the glass and putting it back down in front of her. It was at a time like this where she contemplated the idea of becoming an alcoholic. Becoming a regular in a pub wasn’t ideal for her, but it’s not like she had anything better to do on the weekday.

At this point, she wondered if she was even enjoying wrestling. Then the question rose in her mind if she ever enjoyed it. All it seemed to do to her was create heartache and suffering. Loss of loved ones, loss of friends, and a damaged mind. At what point did she just have to stop blaming it all on her isolationism? Sure, that’d play a factor into it, but wrestling made everyone so bitter and jaded. As she drank her beer, she realized she was no different. Bitter and jaded. Browsing through her phone just furthered her point. Any messages from any “friends” were last sent and received months prior to joining PAW.

She didn’t know what to do, but that should come as no surprise. She never knew what to do. Ana knew what her life was like. It was built on impulses and mistakes. At some point, it’d stop being called stubborn and instead be replaced with the word “idiotic”, but she wasn’t sure where to draw that line. When bad things started to become a pattern in her life, she embraced them. Being bitter and jaded was the only thing she had going for her. The dream of dying was just that. A dream. She was a coward since day one and she knew it.

For so long, she’ flirted with Death and nothing’s ever come of it. It was just a fucking joke to her. And she laughed quietly to herself. A fucking joke like her. She was grateful for the sounds of rain outside, it’d mask the tears that were soon to be pouring down her face. But why was she crying? It wasn’t bad luck or misfortune. There was only ever one person to blame. All of her “friends” that have left her, she couldn’t even blame them. At this point in her life, they were just distant memories to her. She fucked it up.

One simple reflection on her career proved it. It didn’t have to just be PAW. A look into her run in England or Japan all yielded the same results. Failure. Complete and utter failure. She came to Monarch seeking to prove that she was the best and she failed. She went to Japan to prove she could be the best gaijin and she failed. PAW was different, but only in the sense that there wasn’t just one failure. No, a string of failures, week after week. And that’s when the fine line between stubbornness and stupidity came back into her life. At what point do you throw in the towel and give up?

Ana had piles of white flags ready to wave at any given moment. She was just too stupid to wave them. And as much as she didn’t want to admit it to herself, she had to accept the truth at some point. It’d just be a vicious circle of lies and she’d already been through the wringer one too many times before. She’d tell herself that each loss would be the last, but it never was. They kept on coming and like a dam that had burst, she wasn’t sure how to handle the damages that came with it. She was scared and alone. Bitter and jaded.

She was fucking worthless.

By the time the pub had closed, Anastasia wasn’t even drunk and she hated it. The buzz she was carrying wasn’t going to do her any justice. That was the result of sleeping all day and waking up hours before any good pub closes. She’d have to suffer in the rain on her walk back to her flat. She pulled her hood over her head and sighed. That’s when the tears started to come down and she still wasn’t sure why. All she ever wanted in her life was to be happy and she couldn’t even fake it with getting hammered. Her life had become a punchline to an ongoing joke.

What do you get when you take an overhyped and overrated wrestler and put them on the grand stage?

Disappointed.

It wasn’t even funny. But a joke didn’t need to be funny to be true. Because at that point, it stops being a joke and is just a fact. She had let down a lot of people. People that she didn’t care about, but they had some vested interest in her. Even the ones she burnt bridges with were probably watching. Or maybe that was just arrogant of her to assume. Why would anyone care about her? More importantly, she thought, why SHOULD anyone care about her? A career based off of raising expectations only to completely and utterly fail, letting everyone down. In some way, she was rather impressed with herself in finding new ways to disappoint.

She wasn’t even numb to it anymore. The alcohol didn’t help blur any of that. It all came through unfiltered and uncensored. Not even her new joy in the world could make her happy and forget her troubles. And now, she thought, she’s just an overcritical fool stumbling around in the rain. If she was lucky, she’d get pneumonia or hit by a car. At least then, maybe she’d find some kind of happiness.

But Anastasia was never that lucky.

And she was content with that.

She was never meant to be happy.

Why bother?

It was nearly 3AM when Ana got back to her flat, the storm had gotten worse. The rain was waiting to burst through her windows and drown her. She would’ve welcomed that. But she didn’t care about that at the moment, she had more pressing matters to deal with. Stumbling around in her flat, she kicked off her shoes and made her way over to her treasure chest, where most of her liquid gold was held. Inside her fridge was a hopeful answer to all of her prayers. She took out each bottle, one by one, placing them all beside her bed on the floor. She sat down next to them and propped her head against her mattress, ready to start the next party.

All it took was one more case to send her over the line. The crying mess had evolved into the crying, drunken mess. But it wasn’t enough. And for the occasion, she needed more than enough. Peeking into her dressing and occasional liquor cabinet, Ana pulled out a shot glass and a half empty bottle of vodka. Cheap, the label torn off, she thought in some way, it was a fitting metaphor.

Ana did her best to stay awake, she didn’t want to bother with what her mind was creating for her. Whether it’d be slapping herself awake or just screaming into her pillow. It wasn’t until the sound of footsteps grabbed her attention. She scanned around her flat, but no luck. The fridge opened and a familiar voice rang out

“No more Stella? That’s rather disappointin’, Ana.”

There was only one person that could be. But she couldn’t see him. Though, even if she could, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to. For months, he was missing and when she needed him, he was gone. The last she knew, he was back with his fiancee, but he never said hello. And that killed her. Now he was back again, in her flat, in her head. She couldn’t escape him this time.

“Now...what ‘ave you gotten yourself into? What ‘appened to the Anastasia ‘ayden I once knew? Not this...sad show. Don’t get me wrong, I ain’t a stranger to drinkin’, but...you need ‘elp, Ana.”

“I don’t need anything...or anyone. And I certainly don’t need you. I can’t even fucking see you...which is more than fitting.”

He laughed. It’d been ages since she last heard that from him.

“Ouch. Words sting, Ana. But I guess I deserve them, don’t I? Though, I don’t deserve to be a witness to what you’re doin’ to yourself. Cryin’ and drinkin’ is all you do anymore.”

“And you’ve got a problem with that?”

“Yeah, I kind of fuckin’ do. When I came to you in Monarchy, I saw you ‘ad potential to be great. And it ain’t too often I’m right in my life. But I was right about you.”

“Fuck off.”

Ana grabbed the pillow back off of her bed, placing it on her knees and burying her face into it. He was speaking the truth. He always knew what to say and that pissed Anastasia off more than anything. Always fucking right, even when she needed it, she hated it.

“Are you tellin’ me right now you’re just gonna give up? After everything you’ve been through? That’s pathetic, Ana. And you bloody well know it.”

“Just shut up!”

“I’m not going to do that, Ana. You know why I’m ‘ere for you right now?”

“I don’t care.”

“Because you need me. And I ain’t just sayin’ that. I mean it.”

She couldn’t see him, but it sounded like he was closer than ever. To the point where she swore she heard the wooden floor creak, as if he was sitting right beside her. In a way, it was comforting, but she didn’t want to be comforted. She wanted to be miserable all by herself. That’s all she ever wanted.

“The Anastasia ‘ayden that I once knew certainly wouldn’t drink ‘erself to death. That’s cliched and you know it. The Ana I knew wanted a fight and all I see ‘ere is someone who ‘as given up on themselves. Why?”

There wasn’t an answer. There wasn’t one she could think of anyways.

“What ‘appened to the fighter I met in Monarchy? The fighter I dragged with me to Japan? I can’t always be ‘ere to pick you back up anymore, Ana. You need to know that you’re strong enough to stand on your own.”

“But...I don’t want to stand anymore…I just want to give up.”

“Oh, come on, save that bollocks for someone else. You went out kickin’ and screamin’ in every match I watched. Sometimes you won, sometimes you didn’t. But that wasn’t what you cared about, yeah?”

“I don’t know…”

“Of course you do. You were once ruthless and unforgiving to everyone. You didn’t give a damn about titles, winning, your wellbeing or theirs. What is it you always wanted?”

“A fight.”

She muttered the answer, partly from the alcohol ingested, mostly to not give him the satisfaction of continuing to be right. He was hitting every point on her list. The list she had since abandoned after each and every repeated failure. The list that she had given up completely on. He didn’t. Somewhere, he still saw some kind of hope for Anastasia.

“Every match in PAW is ‘redemption this’ and ‘redemption that’, but I’m sorry, Ana, when did you start giving a fuck about what anybody thinks?”

And like that, the tears started to come down yet again. She felt sick and all she wanted at this point was sleep. Everything in the flat had grown silent yet again with the exception of the rain and thunder outside. For the first time in a long time, she had found some sort of peace in there. She wasn’t happy, but she was content. He was right.

“I miss you, Terry.”

---

“I’ve been given a lot of opportunities in PAW. And every time my number has been called, when it’s my turn at bat. I’ve disappointed. I’ve failed. These offers come to me again and again on a silver platter...and I just let them fucking fall to the floor. Where next to where my shoulders are getting pinned on the mat. So that poses the question, where the fuck is Anastasia Hayden from earlier in the year? Where is the Anastasia Hayden that actually did something? Well, much like everyone else in this godforsaken world, I figured she was dead.”

“But I had a revelation. All it took was losing to fucking Black Jack Colter. Someone, who if we would’ve faced months ago in England or Japan, I would’ve fucking wiped the canvas with. But instead, I got lost focus. I lost what made me...me. I became consumed with these opportunities and silver platters. Gluttony is a very real thing and I indulged everything that was thrown to me. Much like these pathetic fucking ‘fans’, I was starting to feel like them. I’m not going to lie, because that’d just waste everyone’s time. Losing to Black Jack Colter was a lot like when an addict reaches rock bottom. It’s not at that point when you start to turn everything around, it’s when you keep digging your grave past rock bottom.”

“And I’m climbing out of that grave. It’s not my time to die. Anastasia Hayden isn’t ready to just fucking give up. When I get backed into a corner, I fight. I don’t just give in. And just because the bell rings and the match is over...I’m not giving up anymore. I wanted a fight when I was in England every single week. Now? I’ve relaxed ever since I’ve come to PAW. I won’t bullshit that either. I made the mistake of riding off my ‘fame’ and thinking I could just coast over every worthless piece of trash here. That was my mistake. But like a religious awakening, I see the fucking light.”

“The light is telling me to fight. And that’s what I’m here to do. All the critics, they can point toward my record and label me a loser. That’s fine. I wouldn’t argue that I don’t deserve that label. But I’m not here to prove anyone wrong. I thought that’s what I wanted, but fuck that. I don’t have to prove shit to anyone. As far as I’m concerned, a lot of assholes here have something to prove to me. I left Colter get me, I let Annabel get me, and I let Caroline get me. But that’s because I was focused on all kinds of things. An opportunity for the spotlight, a chance to become a champion, and a chance at redemption.”

“Right now, I don’t give a fuck about any of that. Everyone gets so ate up with the idea that you need to win or have something around your waist or shoulder to be successful. Yeah, that’s fine, if you’re a pussy. That’s one label I’m not interested in having attached to my name or my character. I am above that, but no one in PAW is. And that’s fine. I realize now it’s my purpose to fight tooth and nail every week. It’s my job to turn all these weak and pathetic ‘wrestlers’ into proper fighters. That’s what I am, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“A fighter. When I step into the ring, I just have one goal in mind. I want whoever is across from me to dish out the same amount of punishment as I hand out. Colter? He was almost there. He almost gave me the fight I wanted, but he couldn’t. You can say me losing was disappointing, sure, but me not getting the fight I wanted? That’s fucking disappointing. And just not acceptable. Not anymore.”

“And here I go, I almost went down the same generic and cliched path that I go down every time I lose. I was about to say, ‘This week is another chance at redemption!’ But I don’t really care what it is. This week on Wicked, it’s a chance for me to fight. To get back to what Anastasia Hayden is all about. As far as anybody is concerned, the ‘Future Champion’ is the only one who is dead. Not Anastasia Hayden.”

“Everyone is already making a mistake when it comes toward my match at Wicked. They’re too busy focusing on the finer details of things and they’re just missing the big picture. The Titans of the Midway Championship is on the line and while that’s great and all...I simply don’t give a fuck. I don’t need a championship to vindicate anything I’ve said in the past, right now, or in the future. Becoming a champion only means you have to lose it and then you just become as pathetic as everyone else who has the ‘former champion’ attached to their names. As if that means something. As if being a ‘former champion’ is something to brag about.”

“Get over yourselves. It’s a fucking joke. When I stepped into PAW, I made the claim that I was the greatest wrestler here with or without a belt. And here we are nearly three months later...and guess what? It’s still the truth. Win, lose, whatever. You’ll see that CONTINUE to be the case when I step up against Nova Wonder. She has the privilege of getting to face Anastasia Hayden for the first time and I’ll be honest, I’ve been waiting for this one for quite some time. But I was a little worried it’d never happen.”

“Cause, you see, Nova has created this little reputation of being a top star here in PAW. While me? I get thrown into the pit with the rest of the bottom feeders. Now, hold up, I know what you’re thinking, ‘Ana, haven’t you lost to these bottom feeders?’ Absolutely. Since I’ve been down here for so long, I’ve gotten the chance to really open my eyes and see how the cogs turn. I get to see the little games Nova plays here and it’s fitting that she’s the ‘Titan of the Midway’ because she’s pretty damn good at these carnival games.”

“I mean, how do you think I felt, week after week, whenever I’d see the Addiction posters all around town...there was only ever one person featured on it. And who was on there? All by her lonesome. Honestly, it almost broke my heart. To see someone so lonely on the posters. Don’t think I haven’t heard your little pity parties you throw for yourself. God damn, Nova, tell me, how can I be as humble as you? A champion, a poster girl...and yet the system is STILL fucking you over. Oh, Jesus Christ, my heart...it weeps.”

“I’d say grow the fuck up, but your childlike insanity is what makes you just so appealing to all of these basement dwelling neckbeards. I’m not the master of an anti-insult like Annabel Lee, so I’ll hold off on the makeup comments. What I will say is, I’m really looking forward to our match. Maybe I’m being a bit too optimistic here when I say I think you’ll bring the fight I’m looking for. But let’s not get too ahead of ourselves here, I’ve said that before in the past and I’ve been let down many, many times. Do I think you could be that exception?”

“Probably not. You’re pretty fucking weak, Nova, but you know that, right? Surely you’re that self-aware at least? I’ve got my doubts. I mean, after all, that’s why you’ve gotta prance around with that title. The vindication that I don’t need, you’re desperate for. Daddy, mommy, whatever issues you may have...I’ll tell you right now, they won’t be solved by being the Titans of the Midway Champion. And sister, don’t even get me started on the delusion that comes with being the almighty PAW Heavyweight Champion. For being so anti-system, you sure have fallen into a pretty venomous system yourself.”

“It’s real cute. Desperate, but that’s a word you’ve gotten used to by now I’m sure. You’re crazy! Wild! Dangerous. Edgy! Oh my goodness, you’re so this and that. Once you get over your own hype, let me know so I can knock your teeth down your fucking throat. You’re just as bad as everyone else here. You start to get a little momentum swinging and you’re all high and mighty on some ego trip. Well, I’m that reality check you need. And here’s the secret word of the day again, you’re really desperate for someone to come down and fucking knock you out.”

“That’s my goal this week on Wicked. To fucking knock you out. I don’t care if I win. I don’t NEED that fucking title! I’m not like you, Nova...because even putting your name in my mouth is a fucking disgrace. I’m an echelon above you and you’ll never get to my level. Not as long as I walk this Earth. You can say all the shit you want about me. All the shit I’ve lost, all the ‘hype’ I’ve failed to live up to. I don’t care about that anymore. I’m here in PAW for a fight. No titles. No glory. No posters. I don’t need any of that.”

“I need a fight. When that bell rings and everything’s all over, the result of the match won’t matter to me. The only result I care about is whether you’re walking out a winner or loser...or if you’re being stretchered out. I don’t give a damn if the Titles of the Midway Championship is on my shoulder or yours. I just need to fight you and all I need from you is to fight me. When the lights are off and no one cares about you anymore...you can keep being the face of Wicked, Addiction, the pay-per-views, you can be the Titans of the Midway Champion or the Heavyweight Champion...it won’t matter to me.”

“All that matters is that we leave Wicked cover in blood. That we have to get taken out of there. I don’t want to see you fucking walking without a goddamned limp. I don’t want to look in the mirror without seeing a bandage covering a broken nose. My taste of blood against Jack Colter was only the start...I want a war. After all, isn’t that what we are? Gladiators fighting for these peasants? Or are you just the fighter who have overcome every other gladiator in her path...but you haven’t yet to face the lion. The lion that’s been beaten down...the lion that’s coming out of the cage with nothing to lose.”

“Let’s fucking go to war, Wondergirl. Oh, cute nickname by the way, if you haven’t already, I’d swing around to the trademark offices to get that locked down. I mean, after all, with all the pity parties and the ‘I’ve overcome so much!’ stories...I can’t fucking wait for your biopic! You’re on top of the world! All the little Hot Topic middle schoolers must think you’re the shit, yeah? I guess I’m going to have to be the villain to your Wondergirl now. Oh, it’s almost too perfect. And as much as I hate the whole ‘hero vs. villain’ narrative that comes with stupid nicknames, I get a little smirk out of this one.”

“Just remember, I don’t need this victory. I don’t give a fuck about your belt. I don’t need the world to be amazed by me beating Nova Wonder and thinking about the ‘wonders’ it’d do for my career. I want the world to be focused on what happens when Nova Wonder barely beats or...dare I say...loses to the girl who lost to Black Jack Colter, Annabel Lee, Kelsey Spencer, and Caroline O'Hara Burchill. That’s what warms my heart.

“Because the story I’m writing, I’m writing the Death of Wondergirl. You can kill me, Nova, but I’m making sure that I’m taking you down with me. When the cameras for Wicked roll, I want it to be the start of your documentary. The Rise and Fall of Nova Wonder. After all, the fame is all you care about anymore. That’s cool. More than cool. Because it just means I’m going to have knock you around for a little bit before I wake up the Nova Wonder I was first amazed by when I saw her in PAW. That’s the one I want to fucking break and beat down into the mat.”

“That’s the Nova Wonder I look forward to killing in the ring.”