Run of the Mill

I walked onto that helicopter confident and ready to take on anything and everything that either of those four men could have thrown at me. I knew that I had my work cut out for me, but I could do it.

At least that’s what Rogan kept telling me.

He said it so much that I actually started believing it myself.

..And then, Holden pushed me out that window and somehow… Somehow I managed to catch myself on that ledge. But my arms, my face and the rest of me, it burned. Whatever that powder was, it lit my skin on fire like nothing I’d ever felt before. I nearly lost my grip on the ledge when the remnants of the powder started to mix with the blood running down my arms, face and chest – seeping slowly into open wounds, giving way to an agony that I wasn’t prepared for.

In my desperation, I looked down – Trying to find a way out of this predicament, and if there wasn’t, I supposed I wanted to gauge how hurt I would have been if I fell from whatever height that was. Luckily though, I found a ledge below me and all I had to do was let myself go. I could get myself back into this thing, if I just let go and let myself fall onto that ledge below me.

But at that moment, I wondered if it was worth it. I hesitated.

Just for a single moment. I wondered if the world title was worth it. But then I thought of Rogan..

And I let myself fall.

Letting myself in through the window, I’d hoped to myself that that would be the worst thing I would face in this entire hellacious match.

But as I lay here, struggling to breathe underneath some kind of weight that got dropped on me via a fucking crane… it’s so much worse than I could have ever imagined.

I close my eyes as I hear the count begin, albeit faintly.

One…

I try to exert what’s left of my strength against the weight, knowing that if I can’t push it off of me, that I’m well and truly doomed. But the muscles in my shoulders and arms feel like they’ll snap like the strings of a guitar before I’ll ever manage to move this weight a centimeter.

Two…

At the risk of injuring myself further, I keep pushing… and screaming. Screaming as loud as I possibly can before I’m forced to stop by the lack of air in my lungs.

My breaths grow shallower and faster, and I can feel my heart speeding up in my chest. The world begins spinning around me, and I’m forced to once again close my eyes.

Three…

Every beat of my heart sends another sharp pain through my ribs as they threaten to break. The weight feels like it’s growing heavier by the moment… until I feel a ‘pop’ in my chest and let out another breathy scream.

It hurts. I feel like I’m going to be dead before anyone even bothers to try and get this thing off of me. I can’t keep my eyes open for more than a split second anymore…

Four…

At this point I’m begging for it to be over.

I’m scared. I thought I was prepared for this match but I wasn’t. I wasn’t ready and now I’m gonna fucking die here.

I don’t want to die.

What would Rogan do? Would he blame himself for…

Five…

It’s over.

Five means I’m out. I lost.

I fucking lost.

I–

I can’t fucking breathe…

“I…I…” I try to shout but even if I could, with all the bullshit going on around me, and this place… I’d be lucky if anyone heard me.

I feel another pop in my chest that sends pain shooting down my arms and settling into a pins and needles feeling in my fingertips. I can’t believe no one is coming for me… I… I don’t know how much longer…

How much longer I can stay awake.

Then suddenly the weight on my chest moves and I think, ‘thank god’… but then I realize all too quickly that it’s not controlled… it’s still just as heavy… it’s just moving off of my chest, and to my side.

“FUCK!” I bellow out as the entire weight falls down onto my left arm, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it as it pulls away… taking the skin on my arm with it.

All I can do is pray it doesn’t actually take my arm too.

Nothing comes out of my mouth as I wail, feeling my shoulder slowly – agonizingly pull itself out of the socket. I feel the tears flowing freely down my face as the weight just keeps moving, and I feel the pressure begin on my elbow. I can’t move my arm, I can’t barely feel it anymore – aside from the misery and the pain.

“P-please…” I beg, hoping my elbow isn’t the next thing to pop but before it can, the weight falls down beside me and I’m free. I use my good arm and pull my left arm into my lap, rocking and crying before I glance up to see Tempest and Travis fighting it out.. But all too quickly, I remember that I’m sitting on a roof, and that crane hasn’t stopped moving…

…And it’s heading right for this building.

So I run. I don’t even know where I’m going, I just know I need to get off of this roof and out of this building before that crane gets here. In the distance, I see a ladder and I move for it – getting to it before fully comprehending how difficult a task it’s going to be to climb down without being able to use my left arm.

But what choice do I have?

I began my descent, but before I got to the ground, I heard the telltale crunch of metal and wood breaking before I glanced up to see the roof I was just on slowly begin to slip out of my view. I turn around and look at the ground, I’m about 10 feet from terra firma but I don’t have a choice.. I let go of the ladder just as the roof completely caves in, followed by the walls that surrounded it.

I hit the ground with a thud as all the air leaves my body and I writhe there on the ground as the building completely implodes in front of me. All I can do is roll over and cover my head until it’s over.

 

“LUCY!”

I hear his voice ring out amid the wreckage that is whatever this fucking building was. The ‘Mill’. Whatever. I can hear the desperation in the Dark Man’s voice, but I can’t bring myself to yell out and alert him to where I am.

Where I am is sitting in front of the still burning wreckage of the building that five of us were just fighting for our lives within. I can’t believe it’s still burning, honestly. And I don’t even know who won, or if anyone else was inside when the damn thing went down.

I don’t much care either.

My left arm hangs, useless, at my side – the pain having dulled to an ache. I glance down at it, and shake my head – I can’t even tell what is blood and what is just… missing skin. If I were looking at me from any other view, I’d probably be disgusted by what I saw.

But I just don’t care.

“Lucy! Where are you?!”

Rogan’s voice rings out again, but my eyes stay trained on the building. Even if I wanted to say something, I’m pretty sure my throat is toast. So I just stare.

We had a goal. Rogan met his goal, he successfully defended that Conquest title five times and earned himself a shot at whomever walked out of the Mill as the world champion, and we both believed it would be me. I believed everything he said, that I could do this. That I could come into something this terrifying, and walk out with that belt that meant so much to us and our goals.

But I fucked up and failed. I let him down, and I ruined what would have been everything that I thought we deserved. Well, he deserves it.

Me? I ain’t so sure anymore.

Now, I just don’t give a shit. Everything hurts, but I don’t feel anything. I should be feeling something, I should be upset, crying.. Angry… But I just feel empty.

I feel so God damned empty.

“There you are…”

I feel him rush up on me, and I can hear an audible gasp when he finally sees the full extent of whatever it is that happened to me. I haven’t seen myself, but I’m sure I’m not real nice to look at. He kneels down beside me, I can see the concern etched all over his face out of the corner of my eye, but I don’t bother looking at him. I can’t.

I can’t look at him right now.

“Lucy, are you okay?”

“Does it look like I’m okay?”

I manage to croak out, shaking my head in disgust. He looks a bit taken aback by the tone of my response, but what did he expect, honestly?

“I..”

He stops responding, and I finally flicker my eyes over at him to see why he’s not speaking, and I see him intently looking me over, taking a mental note of how to fix everything that’s wrong. I hate to tell him, there ain’t no fixing this. His eyes stop on my mangled left arm, but before I can move away from him, he reaches out for it.

“Don’t.”

“Holy shi–”

I reach my right hand around my body and grab my arm, placing it into my lap before he can get a closer look. I can see the frustration on his face.

“What happened?”

“You weren’t watching?”

I spit back at him, not really thinking about the fact that it was entirely possible that I wasn’t the focal point of the match once I was eliminated. Again, Rogan looks stunned at my response.

“Well, after…”

“After I lost. You can fucking say it. It’s pretty obvious I didn’t win with a fucking crane pinning me down.”

I hate that pitying look on his face. But there he kneels, I can see his hands shaking as he tries to focus his attention anywhere but on the way I’m speaking to him right now.

“The camera panned away after you lost.. So I didn’t know what happened…”

“Yeah.”

“Lucy, you–”

I shake my head.

“No.”

I glance up and into his eyes for the first time just as he was opening his mouth to retort, but after a second, he sighed and looked away, shaking his head. An uncomfortable silence settles between us and I take my gaze away from him, and back to the now smoldering building in front of me.

“Don’t tell me I did great. Don’t tell me I held my own and that you’re proud of me. A lot of good that does me now. If only your pride could win me matches, Rogan. Then I’d never fucking get my ass handed to me, huh?”

“Don’t beat yourself up like this, it’s not going to help anything.”

He’s just trying to help, I tell myself. But nothing stops the dry laughter that escapes my lips as I look at him incredulously.

“Then what do you think I should do, Rogan? Pat myself on the back for a job well done? Snap my fingers and tell everyone ’oh well shucks… I’ll just get em next time’? There is no fucking ‘next time’.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Like hell I don’t! Look at me! We had a real shot, or at least we should have. But whatever… It doesn’t matter now.”

Rogan shook his head in frustration.

“This isn’t the right time to be talking about this.”

I roll my eyes.

“Then when should we discuss it? The next time I drop the ball and fuck everything up?”

“Lucy, it’s not like that.”

I can tell he’s trying to be calm but the tone of his voice is slowly becoming more agitated. I simply shrug my shoulders.

“What does it matter anyway? You get to move on and have your shot…”

It’s in this moment that I realize I don’t know who actually won the match.

“Who won, Rogan?”

He shakes his head again.

“Let’s just get you back to the–”

“Who WON, Rogan?”

But I can already tell who won just by the look on his face and I laugh, again.

“Fantastic.”

Rogan brings himself back up to his feet, and reaches out a hand for me but I don’t immediately reach out for him.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here. We’ll figure this out once you’re feeling better.”

He reaches a little further, and finally I extend my good hand to him and he gently helps me to my feet.

“There’s nothing to figure out.”

I reply, pulling my arm out of his grip before I turn away and begin limping towards the direction Rogan had come from.

“You’re not alone, Lucy.”

He states, matter of factly as he hovers beside me.

“I might as well be.”

I mutter, and he stops in his tracks as I keep going.

“What is that supposed to mean?!”

I stop and turn around, nearly hitting the ground in the process. Rogan lunges for me, but I all but push him away.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I don’t fucking understand why you build me up just for me to fail. Good work, ‘Dark Man’.  Does THIS meet with your expectations!?”

He throws his arms into the air, his face wrought with disbelief in what he’s hearing, but instead of responding, his face turns from disbelief and anger… to sadness and disappointment. I sigh and shake my head.

“I’m sorry.”

I hope my words don’t ring as hollow as they feel. But I just don’t know what Rogan wants from me. I can’t just pick myself up and dust myself off, not this time.

“I shouldn’t have said that. You’re… you’re just trying to help.”

“It’s going to be okay.”

It takes all I have not to disagree with him, but I manage to keep my mouth shut and just nod my head. He just doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get how this feels, but I’d never want him to.

“I promise. We’ll get through this together.”

He finishes with a soft smile. Trying his damndest to reassure me. And at first, I just stare at him, unsure if I even want to smile back. There’s nothing to smile about. I’m standing here, one arm hanging at my side, blood covering the majority of my body with at least a couple of cracked or broken ribs. My throat hurts from smoke inhalation and god knows what else, and to top it all off? I lost my fucking world title to God damned Tempest.

What is there to smile about?

But I do it anyway, because whether I feel anything or not – He doesn’t deserve this.

He doesn’t deserve this at all.

 

A few weeks removed from Run of the Mill, the former World Champion Lucy Wylde sits in the same room that we’ve seen Rogan MacLean record his promotional videos from.  Around her are a few production crew members, their camera pointed at her as she sits with her head down, staring at the floor.

She’s wearing the same ring gear she wore to the Mill, as her match with Tony Savage is in just a few hours.  The gear appears to have not been washed, or repaired at all – as it’s still shredded to pieces in certain spots, and covered with blood in many, many others.   Her left arm is completely wrapped in a bandages, along with other areas of her body.  She moves her shoulders around, proving that the separated joint had at the very least been popped back in, if nothing else.

Lucy sighs, running her hand over her hair, which with her head down, shows the damage from the fire – it’s short in many spots, and looks more unkempt than Lucy would ever keep it.

And when she finally looks up at the camera, the viewing audience finally gets a view of those normally warm, blue eyes – full of hope – now cold, and empty.

“Welcome back, Tony.”

She begins, her voice still a bit hoarse.

“I don’t know what you want me to say here, A lot has happened since you’ve been gone.  And while I appreciate your reassuring words after I dropped the ball at Run of the Mill… I think we both know that as much as you respect me, I took that belt from you and you were more disappointed that you weren’t going to be returning to pursue me for the world title to reconcile your failure.”

Lucy sighs again and shakes her head.

“I failed spectacularly enough for the both of us, huh.  I know, I know… Lucy’s just on another self depreciation kick, she’ll find her way again eventually.  But no, that’s not what this is.   It’s like I said before, I’m just spitting facts.  I fucking lost.  I walked into a match I had no business in and I lost.  And then I wasn’t here last week when Tempest… Well you know what happened last week.  I don’t have to recap it for you.”

Looking back down at the ground in front of her feet, she continues.

“But that’s not what I’m here for tonight, is it?  No, I’m here to have the rematch of the century against someone who’s got a lot to prove to himself and everyone else.  At least that’s how I see it.  I’m glad you’re back, Tony.  I really am.  But I don’t want to fight you.  I mean look at me..”

She lifts her arms up, and grimaces.

“Do I look like I’m ready for a fight?  Maybe not but that doesn’t mean I ain’t gonna try to beat your ass.  Because for everything you think you gotta prove… I KNOW I gotta prove it that much more.  And frankly, I don’t know how I’m gonna do it.  I’d rather prove it by wringing Tempest’s scrawny little neck until he stops struggling.. but I guess I have to settle for this.  A pay per view worthy match on a Synergy against the man I’m not sure I should have beaten for the World title in the first place.  Yeah, I said it.  Everyone is already thinking it anyway, so why not get it out in the open now before the Dave Rydells or the Travis Pierces of the world get the chance.”

“And maybe you’re looking forward to this, Tony.  I don’t know you, I like to think I do but you could be coming into this thinking that you can achieve some sense of redemption for losing to me and losing that belt to me.  I mean isn’t it embarrassing to lose to me, for me to drop the ball so god damned quickly?  All I gotta say Tony is that you better be ready to do worse than what I experienced at the Mill because I honestly don’t think you got it in you.  I suppose we’ll find out here real soon though.”

She shrugs again.

“And Tempest?  We aren’t done.  Not by a long shot.  You think Travis stole your precious moment?  He did.  If he hadn’t of dropped a literal weight on me… We wouldn’t be where we are right now.  Just remember that.  Remember that when you put that belt on the line against the man who stole your crowning achievement from you.  Remember that you couldn’t do it yourself… And you never fucking will.”

With that, Lucy stands up and glares into the camera lens.

“See you in a few, Tony.”