It’s funny.

Not really though. Actually it’s quite… Disheartening? Frustrating? Humiliating? Yeah, I think those three cover how it feels to get up to the sounds of someone else’s music, watching them celebrate what should’ve, could’ve, would’ve been mine… had I not failed.

Again.

It’s a long, painful walk back up the ramp – Trying to focus on the steps before me instead of meeting the eyelines of the fans whether they be jubilant because Montague was successful or whether they’re disappointed that I wasn’t. Trying to ignore the cheers and the taunts being hurled my way. Shit hurts. Not going to lie.

But it doesn’t end when I get behind that curtain though because even if it’s completely silent, I know what everyone’s thinking as their eyes undoubtedly follow me as I pass through.

So much potential.. But never lives up to it.

Yet another big match that she let slip through her fingers.

Maybe her best days are really and truly behind her.

Okay that last one was me, but I couldn’t blame anyone else if they looked at me and thought the same.

At this point, I just want to grab my shit and get out of here as soon as possible. I don’t care if Centurion or Hastings win. I don’t care if they toss each other out of the nearest skyscraper and the bloody sidewalk below becomes the new UGWC World Champ.

None of it matters anymore.

All I know is.. All of that work for nothing. Busting my ass to earn this match… for nothing.

After what feels like hours, I finally make it to the door to my locker room, only to find the door slightly ajar and the lights on within. Great. All I can imagine is someone inside wanting to get my raw and unfiltered thoughts on having my head driven into the turnbuckle and pinned.. One, two, three. Because that’s exactly how this fantastic evening should end.

I almost… almost continue walking past the door. All the stuff left inside is no big loss, right? But no, instead I sigh loudly as I push the door open.

“Listen, I’m not really in the mood to give you any–”

I stop mid-sentence as I glance up to see not Roxy or Grey… But–

“Hey, Lucy.”

“Rogan? How did you–”

Before I finish that idiotic question, I stop myself and shake my head.

“The Buick, of course.. But why?”

The soft smile on his face makes me forget the frustration, and the humiliation.. Well, almost. But I honestly can’t believe he’s here. And even if his Buick is some magical, dimension hopping, travel to wherever instantly machine… I just can’t begin to describe the pure and all-encompassing relief I feel when I look at him.

He shrugs his shoulders as he takes a step closer to me.

“I wanted to surprise you, so… Surprise?”

How can my heart be so full and so God damned empty all at the same time? I look at this man, who’s dealing with his own fears, his own trauma, his own doubts – and yet, here he is. Standing here with a smile on his face and that look in his eyes like I’m something special. And here I am, standing here so glad that he’s here.. But all I can think about is how I went out there and embarrassed him – And myself.

It’s incredibly stupid, and I know it is – But I went out there wanting so badly to bring this win home to him. Sure, if I’d won, it would have been for me too, but I guess I just wanted to show him how much he’s changed my life..

But I failed.

How do I tell him that? How do I tell him that I don’t know if I can keep doing this?

Easy. I don’t.

Instead I let a chuckle fall from my lips and I step forward, wrapping my arms around him. I let out a sigh of relief when I feel his arms envelop me and I bury my face in his chest so he can’t see the tears stinging at the corners of my eyes.

“You were fantastic out there. I’m so proud of you, Lucy.”

I’m glad one of us is proud.

“Thank you.”

I manage to say against the fabric of his shirt as I feel his lips press against the top of my head.

“I know it wasn’t the result you were hoping for, but– Lucy?”

He pulls away just slightly, and I feel his finger beneath my chin, pulling my face up so that he can look me in the eyes. I make an effort to blink away the mistiness in my eyes, but when I see the wrinkles form in his forehead, I know it didn’t work.

“Yeah?”

I say, pulling away and wiping at my face.

“I’m fine. Yeah, it didn’t go how I thought but I’ll get it next time, you know?”

I add on another laugh, trying to downplay how shitty I feel but he’s not buying it. But instead of agreeing with me, or reassuring me, he simply reaches down and grabs my hand, the look of worry quickly replaced with that Rogan smirk that I adore so much.

“You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

I feel the heat rising to my cheeks as he reaches out and wipes a stray tear away and grabs my bag, slinging it over his shoulder.

“Let’s get you home, hmm?”

I nod my head as we make our way back towards the door, but when we get there he stops and turns around to face me.

“Oh, and happy Valentine’s Day, Lucy.”

 

And in the blink of an eye, two weeks have already gone by.

Pretty uneventful two weeks, if you ask me. But after years of life punching me in the face over and over and always feeling like something was around each and every corner I approached – I’ll take uneventful. Especially when I have the Dark Man to keep me company.

I’d be lying if I let on that I hadn’t been thinking about Infinity, and my own future a good bit over the last fourteen days – but I’ve kept it to myself. Figuring the feeling would eventually pass, much like it has before.

But here we sit out on the balcony, the only sound being the sound of the waves crashing against the shore beneath us. Rogan’s sitting in his chair, his eyes closed and his head leaned back against the pillow that rests beneath his head. So relaxed. So at peace.

You love to see it.

Meanwhile, here I am – a bundle of conflicting emotions, doing my very best impression of someone who’s just as relaxed and at ease as the man who sits beside me, my legs draped over his lap – looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“So, it looks like Gabriel is hanging it up.”

I say, breaking the silence – and making Rogan open his eyes and sit up in his chair just a bit.

“Oh, really?”

I nod my head.

“Yeah. ‘For the time being’, or whatever it is he said exactly.”

I shrug my shoulders and sigh.

“It’s a shame.”

“Damn right it’s a shame. But good for him, if that’s what’ll make him happy.”

There isn’t much to add to it, so I just nod my head at him again and go back to the book in my lap. But after a few minutes, I realize I’m not really reading the book anymore – My mind has returned to thoughts of Infinity, and my career in general.

“What if…”

I begin, letting my voice trail off as I sit up, pulling my legs off of Rogan’s lap – Which in turn makes him look in my direction once more.

“What if I do the same thing?”

His eyebrows raise in surprise, and he sits up – leaning towards me.

“What if you..what? Hang it up for the time being?”

I shrug once more and sit back.

“Or for good. Either way.”

I can’t tell if that’s confusion, or disappointment in his face as I watch him for a few moments, before opting to continue my line of thought. I mean I’ve already said it, so I might as well go all in on this idea.

“Maybe I just don’t have it anymore. What if I’ve reached my peak and it’s all downhill from here? I don’t wanna end up like some of these fucks that didn’t know when to give it up. I mean, I’d much rather just settle down and have a life outside of wrestling if I’m just gonna–”

“Are you serious? Is this about losing at–”

I jump up from my seat and throw my arms in the air, turning my back to him.

“No! I mean, I guess… But I just.. I hate feeling like they’re right about me, you know? Lucy with all the potential and nothing to show for it. Lucy with all the problems and drama always getting in the way of being great. I’m fucking tired of it, Rogan. I’m so fucking…”

As I’m talking, I’m staring at myself in the sliding glass door, and for a split moment – I see what looks like my Jenova mask, fitted perfectly over my face and it stops me in my tracks. I move closer to the glass and peer through and find it sitting in the spot I left it after Horizons – On the shelf on the far side of the room.

I take a deep breath and look at myself once more.

            ’You need to stop caring.’

“Lucy?”

I whip around to find Rogan standing just behind me, a look of concern on his face.

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m good.”

I let out another sigh.

“I’m just letting it get to me too much.”

He nods and pulls me back towards the chairs, but not before I take another glance at myself in the glass – and I find myself almost disappointed to not see Jenova staring back at me.

“Yes you are. You’re one of the best Lucy Wylde. Don’t listen to everyone else. Just listen to what’s in here–”

He points at my chest.

“–And whatever your heart tells you. Do what feels right for you. I’ll support you no matter what.”

I can’t help but smile as he lets his hand fall into my lap where I lace my fingers with his.

“You’re a God damned saint, Mr. MacLean.”

He laughs and shrugs his shoulders, but my mind’s already left this conversation as I watch his mouth open and close as he responds to me – unable to hear what he’s saying – because I can’t get the mask out of my head.

It’s tempting.

So tempting to put it back on… Just for a night. Just one night. Let loose, stop caring for just one night and see what happens.

When I donned that mask all those years ago, sure I was angry and I was out for revenge – But the more I think about it, the more I realize it was one of the most liberating times of my life. I did what I wanted, to who I wanted.. I did what I deemed was the right thing, and I never once gave a single fuck about the consequences of it.

Rogan told me to listen to my heart, and maybe I should.

 

“A week ago, I was contemplating my future.”

The scene cuts in suddenly, to see Lucy sitting in a chair within a dimly lit room, her face shrouded in a shadow.

“A week ago, I didn’t yet know that I’d be gearing up for another Conquest title match – Another chance to add to my already impressive resume. I didn’t know where I was going, I didn’t know what I was doing… Yet something… Someone was calling out to me, begging me to stop giving a fuck and just do what I’m so good at doing…”

The scene cuts to black and cuts back in almost instantly, but this time Lucy’s face is gone – replaced by the cold, unforgiving metal of a mask. Jenova’s mask. The two pieces have since been welded back together, and instead of disguising the ugly repair marks – Lucy’s left it as is, giving the mask a much more menacing look than it already had before.

She reaches up and pulls the mask from her face, lowering it ever so slowly until her face shows once more, but now, it almost seems as if her bright blue eyes are darker and the smirk that rests upon her red painted lips is certainly much less welcoming than it usually is.

“And what does that mean for you people?”

She shrugs.

“Nothing, for most of you, that is. I’ve had a few weeks to sit and stew about what happened at Infinity and well, we all know what happened at Infinity. I lost. I’m not afraid to say it. Montague was the better man that night, and he gets to move on.. He gets to look forward to a match against our illustrious leader, Centurion. Good for him.”

She glances down at the mask in her hands.

“But not so good for you, Phrixus. You see, Lucy’s still a little upset. Lucy’s got a lot of pent up aggression that has gotta go somewhere… But what fun is another Lucy Wylde versus Phrixus Deimos match? We’ve been there, done that.. So I figured I’d introduce you to my… friend.”

Lucy brings the mask back up to her face.

“Phrixus, welcome to your nightmare. Welcome to the one night in your declining career where I’ll allow you to be relevant once more. My name… Is Jenova and I’m here to play. I’m here to make you realize that holding that Conquest Championship isn’t the resurgence that you think it is. I’m here to let you know that doing anything with this opportunity wouldn’t be anything short of a career resurrection. I know, that’s awfully rich coming from the vessel of someone who didn’t do anything with the opportunity that she was afforded by winning block A, isn’t it?”

A sharp chuckle comes from behind the mask.

“But let us be honest with one another here, fear. Lucille Wylde could never win another match in her life and she’d still be more of a draw than you’ll ever be again. Lucille Wylde has more of a chance of taking that Conquest Championship from your cold, dead hands and ascending to another world title than you’ve had in the last decade. I don’t make the rules, and I don’t stack the deck, Deimos. I’m just here to tell you the hard, unforgiving truth of the matter. Phrixus Deimos is the background noise of the UGWC. He’s the lonely piece of trash that no one notices beneath their feet, he’s a footnote in today’s UGWC.”

She pauses and sits up, the mask still resting over her face as her long blonde hair cascades down around the metal and over her shoulders.

“Nearly twelve years ago, you were the second UGWC World Champion. Ten years ago you were the eighth UGWC World Champion after winning the Global Challenge, the very same event that you barely scraped by in this year. A lot changes in a decade. You of all people should know that. Going from facing and beating people like Donovan Hastings and Jordan King for the most prestigious prize in these parts… to being the perpetual dance partner for the likes of Konrad Raab. Oh how far you’ve fallen, Phrixus.”

“Oh… how far you’ll continue to fall.”

“You’ve held many titles over the years, and I’ve not a doubt in my mind that you’ve cemented your place in the history of the Coalition – Even if you don’t care about such things. But you wouldn’t be the first to say one thing… and do another. You can say you are looking out for the well being of the Coalition… But tell me, how exactly does rising above everyone else and capturing the World Championship help anyone but yourself? A title belt, made of metal and leather… It cannot do anything to keep the UGWC from falling apart if that’s it’s destiny. I see through your deception, Phrixus Deimos.”

Another pause as her words linger in the air. She continues to stare into the lens, as if she’s staring into the soul of her fear itself.

“And I’m going to make things right, for both of us. I’m going to allow you to fall to me – and in doing so, I’m going to place you back on the path that you are meant to be on – the path onto which you can truly be what you claim to want to be.   That is, unless you step up and show me the man you used to be. Bring the man who beat Donovan Hastings for that world title.  Show me who you truly are.  Prove to me that you still have it in you because the man I currently have in my sights? You are not him. So there is your ultimatum, Phrixus.”

“Beat me, admit your lust for glory and relevance.  Begin your journey into redemption with your first of five successful defenses.”

She leans forward.

“Beat me or move aside and allow me to show you how it’s done.”

The scene cuts to black and when it comes back once more, the chair is empty.