I didn’t want to hurt the Masked Debaters…

…and I don’t want to hurt ‘The Empty’, either…


Prologue

December 15th, 2019

“Make way, Make way!”

“Maggie?”

“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to step back please-“

“Oh God… Maggie!”

The wheels of the gurney rattled and shook as the EMTs rushed her down the halls of the United Center.

“Somebody tell me what’s going on?!”

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t see. She struggled to maintain her focus on the fleeting echoes of voices that were, at best now, vaguely familiar.

“Ma’am… we really need to get through!”

“I know that… I’m staff!”

“…and I’m her girlfriend-“

“If you two want to help, you need to let us do our jobs-“

Whatever this was, it felt like a dream. Except she also felt like she was falling asleep at the same time. It felt like she was traveling deeper and deeper into the nothingness before her.

“Is she alright?!”

“Chuck, going to need multiple units of O-positive, stat. Make sure the ER has more ready the moment we arrive.”

“You got it, boss.”

It felt like slipping; completely out of control and yet, if nothing else, somehow peacefully… into a state of complete non-existence.

“Maggie… come on… you gotta fight this!”

The voices grew farther in what she only understood as her ‘going away’. At best they were as faint as whispers now. The anxiety and panic she could detect in their inflection was fading as was her capacity to fight her journey into what she understood would be nothingness.

“Where ar. y.u g.nna be ta.ing her…?”

“We’r. g.ing t. try to g.t her… to th. ne.r.st hospit.l…”

“Wh.ch .s?”

“N.rthw.st.rn.”

“A.r.ght. Am..r, I’ll g.t m. c.r r..dy-“

“I’m st…ng w.th… M..g.e, Cher..”

“Ok.y I’.. meet y.. t.ere.”

Her soul… or whatever one would call the essence of her entity… reached out into the black…

“-sh.’s l.st . .ot .f bl..d, b.ss… I d.nt kn.. .f s.e’s g.nna m.k. .t…”

…and It all felt too familiar.

“…M.ggi…. …w.ke .p!!!…”

Because she no longer had the strength or the reason to fight it any longer. The empty, hollow void was surrounding her… engulfing her.

And for what seemed to be the longest time and in the blink of an eye, she no longer felt anything at all.

 

– JENOVA – 002 –
Comforted by Nothing

 

She had fallen into a dreamless night.

Length, undetermined.

By the time Magdalena Lockheart’s body was ready to regain consciousness, no one cared that she wasn’t ultraviolent champion anymore. They didn’t care that she didn’t go on to face Jack Michaels for the Carnage Wrestling world heavyweight championship at the next marquee pay-per-view event. No one missed Maggie’s opportunity to perhaps change the landscape of the entire federation as they knew it. The show went on without her, just as it should.

And nobody cared.

Correction: there were a few, like Amber Caldwell, who were genuinely concerned for Maggie’s well-being; but these select people only cared because they knew Maggie as the person outside the ring, not the fighter within. But the vast majority, many of those in Carnage Wrestling’s ranks and roster, had completely, and thoughtlessly, moved on.

Maggie came-to in a trauma wing as a new person in a strange world.

She was born, or perhaps, reborn, as a splitting headache wrapped in bandages and gauze. Bright lights, white linens, doctors and nurses appearing like alien creatures in their masks and their scrubs. Every experience seemed novel and shocking; terrifying and strange. She could breathe. She could glance. She could blink. She could stare. She could think in single words first and hours after, begin to form her first full sentences. Soon after that, she discovered this thing called her body that she could move if she thought about it hard enough. She worked these new limbs in short bursts, rediscovering her sense of self and her limitations, again, for the first time.

Days became weeks. The headache dulled little by little. Her memories started to return in much the same way. Then, when she was ready, the aliens insisted on this new concept called ‘therapy’… not because her memory, speech, and mobility hadn’t improved, they just didn’t improve enough. She was starting to recognize the people around her but still had no recollection of the events that put her there in the first place.

It was a true milestone of triumph and tears, just to recognize her girlfriend’s face and to, simultaneously, realize just how far out of sync with the world she was.

Even after weeks of therapy, in a moment of sheer celebration; the nurse whom she had felt she knew better than anybody was wheeling her toward the entrance of the hospital as Amber and Carnage Network staff member and friend Cherie Von Allen cheered on, Maggie still felt that strange twinge of disconnection no amount of therapy and rest seemed to shake.

The parts of Maggie that remembered who she was were humiliated… embarrassed… and defeated.

The parts of Maggie that didn’t remember… didn’t fully understand.


Chaos 92 – Post-Match (vs. Lucy Wylde)
Leaving the Arena

Jenova… or now as she was revealed to the world to be Magdalena Lockheart under that terrible mask… forced one foot in front of the other in the direction of the exit, practically stumbling as she pulled her rolling suitcase behind her. Waiting in the parking lot of the Carnage Arena was a thin, dark-haired woman with tattoos on her arms and concern on her face. Maggie’s head was hung, her eyes were low. Yet she forced her body to comply with the command to drag herself over to her, and to the vehicle she had her ass resting on.

The woman was Amber Caldwell. She had been Maggie’s girlfriend for some time. As Maggie approached Amber threw her arms around her and pulled her in tight. She knew that what Maggie had been through was tough. ‘But her girlfriend was one of the toughest people she’s ever met’, she’d reasoned. She ran her dainty fingertips through Maggie’s silver-colored hair, checking the scar just above her hairline.

“Hey… you okay?” Amber asked.

“I’m fine,” Maggie replied all choked up, trying to hide back the tears as she nodded her head. “I-I just-“

“It’s okay.” Amber pulled her in tighter. “What you did out there was tough. People probably ain’t gonna understand it, but I do.”

“You do?”

“Of course. I would have never agreed to this if I didn’t.”

Maggie began sobbing into Amber’s shoulder.

“How’s your head, though? How’re you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Maggie choked up, her black-stained lips pursed as she tried to gather herself. “Lucy got me a couple times but I-“

“A couple?” Amber folded her arms across her chest. “Lucy was teeing off on you… and you weren’t exactly defending yourself.”

Maggie hung her head.

“I’ve had worse.”

Flashback.

The distinct sound of the ring bell calling out to her…

…and the emptiness that followed…

“Maggie? Mags? Hello?”

“…yeah?”

Maggie shook the cobwebs loose. She looked up to see Amber standing in front of her again. Same parking lot, same car as before.

“I know you said you were fine and all but-“

“I am fine, Amb.”

“No, you’re not.”

Maggie didn’t realize this at first but she had lost herself for a brief while in a bit of a flashback. In those moments all Amber could see was Maggie standing there with a blank look on her face.

“Come on, get in,” Amber said as she pulled Maggie’s suitcase up from off of the ground and stuffed it into the backseat of her car. “We’re going to the hospital.”

“No… absolutely… not.”

Maggie shook her head, tears clawing at the corners of her eyelids fighting to be set free. Amber remained persistent, growing more worried with each passing second.

“I’ve spent a lifetime in hospitals, Amb… I’m done with hospitals.”

“No. You promised me that you would take care of yourself. At least let’s get you in for some tests, just to make sure-“

But suddenly Maggie lunged forward. She pressed Amber against the car with her hand firm around her throat.

“I said… No.”


The Next Day
The Wylde Residence

“What the fuck were you thinking?!”

Chaos in CJ Wylde’s study.

“You weren’t supposed to get involved-”

“I am involved-” CJ shouted. “It was up to you to get the job done and keep me from getting involved!”

After the events of Chaos 92, neither CJ nor Jenova were happy. Jenova was victorious, albeit at a cost. For starters, the match between her and CJ’s ex-wife did not go well. Jenova had found herself badly beaten and exposed. Winning meant that CJ had to get involved by broadcasting his face over the Carnagetron screen. Even still, Jenova had to resort to using her black mist to pick up the three. The stipulation of the victory meant that Lucy now had to train Maggie and teach her the Calamity from the Skies finisher – but circumstances placed that firmly in doubt.

“You were supposed to go out there and prove that you had what it took to be Jenova- and all I saw out there was a scared little girl.”

Jenova paced at CJ’s bedside, clutching the roots of her long silver hair. She didn’t want to go off on CJ. She respected him. She pitied the position that he was stuck in.

“But I didn’t want to hurt her…”

CJ hurled the remote to his TV right past Jenova’s head and into the flat-screen, cracking it instantly upon impact.

“Do you really think that’s what this is about?” He scoffed. “You need to get your head in the game! How the hell do you expect to protect Lucy FUCKING Wylde if you’re going to let her WALK all over you?!”

“There’s no use in protecting her if I paralyze her-“

CJ glared up at her from his hospital bed.

“So, being paralyzed means I’m worthless, right?”

Maggie shook her head.

“I meant nothing by that.”

“Of course you didn’t.” 

CJ turned his face away to hide his snarl.

“Who fucking cares anyway?”

“I do.”

“No you don’t. Don’t even pretend like you give a shit.”

Maggie sighed.

“No wonder you’re alone.”

For a moment, both parties went silent.

“Listen. I understand that you care about Lucy. I really do. I wouldn’t have picked you for this job if I had any indication that you didn’t have Lucy’s best interests at heart.”

“…but?”

“But you’ve got to understand. If you don’t give her everything you’ve got, you’re not going to get through to her.”

Maggie rolled her eyes.

“You’d know, right? From experience.”

CJ pointed up at her.

“I forgot. You have all the answers. You already know everything. And that’s fine, but tell me this: How long do you think you… or Lucy… is gonna last out there if you can’t do what needs to be done?”

Jenova stared a hole through CJ.

“You, of all people, should know Maggie… your enemies don’t care… and they won’t hold back.”

“Don’t.. call me… that name.”

“You don’t want me to call you Maggie? Well then get it through that thick skull of yours. Jenova never did anything less than what was necessary. Lucy didn’t… and if you want to carry on that legacy… you won’t either.”

 

I didn’t want to hurt the Masked Debaters…

…and I don’t want to hurt ‘The Empty’, either…

…but since when is it about what I want?

It’s never about ‘what I want’.

Consumed by static, Jenova’s ominous voice breaks through the fuzz. Eventually, Jenova’s mask focuses in; yet the static still surrounds her.

People take one look at me and they think that they know what’s going on inside. Which is funny… ironic in some ways. Especially considering the world I woke up in was a world I didn’t fully recognize. Considering I had to… relearn everything with the perspective of seeing it all for the first time again. And when I realized who I really was and how I ended up the way that I did…

I was devastated.

It’s strange, what I’m about to say, but a lot of things are the way that… I believe… I remembered them to be. The world is still the shittiest place I know filled with horrible, horrifying people. Society continues to reward the worst in us… This business, this industry still rewards the worst qualities of humanity… and if you think I’m being facetious… who is the current president again?

The wrestling industry in and of itself is just a microcosm that likes to pretend itself detached to the greater world. But it isn’t. Look at the Carnage Arena… the stands empty. People have been covering themselves with masks, just like I have, scavenging and hoarding the basic necessities without a care or concern for who might actually need them. Nobody cares about one another… and I’m not sure why that surprises me.

Is it because I actually care for someone?

That I’d sacrifice it all… for the sake of another?

Clearly, I tried. I fought my best, and where did that get me? I’d say that Lucy isn’t returning my calls, but I haven’t exactly bothered calling. I know that she’ll come around and do the right thing. I know in my heart of hearts that she knows that I cheated… that CJ Wylde cheated… her out of that match. But I only want whats best for Lucy Wylde… and the industry… if you’d believe it.

Professional Wrestling deserves to have its best legacies live on.

Paragon, for all their might, couldn’t do it. Jack Michaels, even as “The Blast”, didn’t have the strength and the intestinal fortitude to ‘pass the torch’ amicably. Now what do you have but a broken World Champion at the helm and Carnage Wrestling limps on the way it always had… in mediocrity. It’s ironic, really, that for the first time in the iteration of this company that the federation has a true star-studded roster that can break the mold and every glass-ceiling that it has ever faced. Carnage Wrestling as a whole can move into this aptly-named Underground extravaganza into its best and brightest days yet. And all the roster has to do is fight for something…

Fight for what, exactly?

Redemption

…or so I’ve been told.

Redemption for what? It’s not clear. The Masked Debaters weren’t exactly a challenge two weeks ago… but something deep down inside tells me that the real challenge wasn’t Johnny Love or Hans Ondik at all. No, I think the challenge was to see how ‘Jenova’ would react to being disrespected by being placed first on the card, against a couple of nobodies. New Carnage President JC must not have enjoyed my… reunion… with his fiancee as much as I did. So why, if you can’t get rid of her one way, don’t you just bury Jenova at the bottom of the card?

I showed you why, Joe.

I showed you why.

So don’t think for one second that the irony is lost on me, that now at Underground: Redemption, my ‘redemption’ continues against… a guy in a mask. All because you take one look at me and you think that Jenova is just a person I pretend to be when I put on the mask…

Lucy’s mask.

Oh, and I can almost taste the salt in the words of the Voice, or the Reason, or the Ominious Noun… I can only imagine that it’s got something to do with hiding behind this mask that I choose to wear… that I’m just a scared little girl underneath… nothing compared to the manufactured monster he keeps locked away in his little cell.

Jenova shakes her head.

I wish it were that easy. I wish it were that simple. I really do. But Jenova was never about the mask in the first place.

She is about the idea.

The idea that this world is a dangerous, fucked up place… and that people die if they’re not careful in it. It’s not an empty gesture, it’s a simple fact that I’m stating… and I’ve seen and witnessed and I’ve been a part of the carnage FIRST HAND and I’ve seen what WE… tend to leave behind. I’ve been to the TOP of that MOUNTAIN… and I’ve been the girl who had her head caved in. And EVERYTHING that I accomplished MATTERED until all of a sudden…

…it just…

…didn’t.

No, I don’t want to hurt anyone.

I didn’t want to hurt Lucy Wylde… but that didn’t stop her from trying to END me just so that I would simply go away. And I didn’t want to hurt the Masked Debaters… but come on JC… I thought that when Jason Bridges finally got the pink-slip that he so woefully deserved that ANYONE had to be a step up. But oh, I was so painfully wrong, wasn’t I?

I don’t want to hurt the Empty… but come on. As an artist I’ve never been so uninspired in my life. I’ve seen this story a thousand times. Big bad manufactured beast. Can’t think for himself. Is the Empty an off-shoot of the Monstimals or just a retread Frakenstein’s Monster… I can’t really tell. But let’s not mince words here, that doesn’t mean that I don’t feel for the Empty, because I’ve been that empty shell. I know what the Reason is trying to do… and he don’t deserve any of it.

BUT THIS ISN’T ABOUT WHAT HE FUCKING DESERVES-

…this is about he gets.

Redemption.

Jenova slides off her mask, to reveal Magdalena Lockheart’s face underneath.

When you look at this face, what do you see?

Who… do you see?

Jenova… isn’t a piece of cloth. Jenova… is not a scare tactic.

JENOVA is WHO I AM. It’s WHO I CHOOSE TO BE. It’s understanding full-well the consequences of what can, might, and will one day happen when you step foot into that ring. And don’t for one second think that you can wag your fucking finger in my face as if I just came off the street and into the ring. I’ve seen it all. I’ve done it all. I’m a two-time Ultraviolent Champion and one of only two winners of Carnage Wrestling’s Two Monarchy of Anarchy tournaments. Care to take a guess on who the other winner is?

I’ve been to the bottoms of the deepest wells, I’ve seen Carnage Wrestling’s biggest, strongest, bravest, and most cunning out there on the battlefield that we call Ultraviolent wrestling in its most pure and chaotic form. And when people like the Reason start talking shit about who Jenova is or what she represents it then becomes MY business to bitchslap a seven-foot, three-hundred and fifty-eight pound gimp back into his pet crate and shut his fat-fucking pudgy-lipped wannabe hot-topic master up… permanently.

Because it isn’t about me when it gets this far. This is about Redemption and who needs it the most. And just like I showed everyone what I’m capable of with the Masked Debaters, it’s become my duty to continue to lay bodies at JC’s feet until Jenova gets the attention that she deserves. If Carnage Wrestling, and its acting President, do not want to take me seriously, it’s my job to make damn sure that they do. And trotting out Sloth and his little mouth-piece Satanic Colonel Sanders is like trying to use popsicle sticks and elmers glue to rebuild the Hoover dam…

You ain’t stopping shit.

Speaking of, I imagine Discount Damien is going to have a lot to say and even more apologizing to do once all this is through. But I also imagine that that little bit of imagination is more than the bowels of Fort McHenry has seen in a long time, so, I’m sure that the Reason is reasoning that I have no chance based off of the same hackneyed ‘reasons’ that take all the intelligence of an eight year old to think up. But that’s okay, I like cliches. I’ve shattered them all. So it’ll be nice to put the Empty to bed and the same old tired tropes the Devil Incelibate tends to trip up on time and time again.

Because Jenova isn’t about what I want to do.

It’s about doing what I need to do at any cost…

Yours.

I don’t really want to hurt anyone. But I’ll do what I have to… what I NEED to… to thrive. You WILL put respect on MY NAME… even if have to send the Empty back to the sex-dungeon in a box… a TRULY… lifeless shell.

I’m not under the guise of pleasing some all-powerful Mistress.

No.

I’m the fucking Goddess your bitch prays to at night.

So bow down.

I AM JENOVA

AND I AM CARNAGE WRESTLING’S REDEMPTION

…because… if for no other reason… is because I am the only one among you who requires no… Redemption… at all.

Maggie slides her mask back over her face, and static once more invades the screen.

The Calamity will once again fall from the sky.

…and changes… will come.

Our reunion… shall march on…

…and the only solace you will see is when you feel that same emptiness I felt…

…the only comfort you shall get is to be comforted by nothing at all.