Post by Admin on Jan 17, 2024 1:51:56 GMT
Strader Estate
Houston, TX
Veronica was happy to be home after her trip to Tokyo, Japan for MGP’s end of the year show main event with herself-dubbed “Chosen Sisters” and she was looking forward to spending some quiet time with her and Christian’s little girl, Chrissie. She marked herself safe, but victory wasn’t in the group's cards.Veronica was trying not to think about how she had seen the ten-year-old version of her baby girl who looked a lot like Cara did when she was that age. She also hadn’t been bothered by her grandfather, whose soul had been stuck to hers as punishment for freeing Outcast’s soul from eternal damnation.
Veronica walks through the side door of the ranch into the kitchen that everyone used as a front door, and she could hear her husband snoring away on the couch. When she approaches, she places her hands on the back of the soft grey couch to look over quietly. She can’t help but smile. Veronica isn’t what’s known as happy-go-lucky. She’s not an optimist, a pessimist, but more of a realist that would lean towards the pessimistic side.
You know, glass isn’t half full or half empty, but most likely filled with piss. Not in the AW kind of way.
“You have your daddy’s snore and matching open mouth.” Her tone was quiet to not wake them. She takes the flannel blanket laying over the chair beside the couch and covers the two most important people in the world to our Raven-Spawn. “Goodnight, my loves.”
As tired as she was, she kept her jacket on and retreated to the back deck out by the kitchen, but not before grabbing a rock glass and the bottle of Gibson’s Finest Rye Whiskey. She sits down with a sigh, popping the cork top and pouring roughly three fingers of whiskey, which she uses to wash down the handful of hydromorphone she was prescribed after the match. The last few seconds of glorious sounds of silence would be cherished as that voice crept back into her grey matter.
“Tough luck, kiddo, but hey, you saved your ass.”
Veronica feels the stare of her grandfather from the old body length mirror that was across from her, leaning against the wall.
“I’m not in the mood, old man.”
“Miss Delicate Weapon over here, huh?”
Veronica goes to whip her glass of whiskey at the mirror but stops herself and instead refills her whiskey glass. The cigarette she lights fills her lungs and exhales as she places her pain meds beside her whiskey.
“Scott, I’m not in the mood for your shit tonight. My body hurts. I am pissed we couldn’t save Najima from being kicked out of Black Dahlia Legacy, and I am tired.”
“A’ight, I’ll get to my point… I have a premonition that something bad is gonna happen.”
Veronica takes a drink and a drag of her cigarette as she stares at the reflection of his icy blue eyes that he passed on down to her late mother, Meghan, and Uncle John. She stays quiet, sipping her whiskey.
“Not at all curious, kiddo?”
“I am. I’m just processing a few things. What is your premonition, old man?”
“Something bad is coming at your family. I don’t mean your sisters, auntie or uncle… I mean the family you have built with Christian.”
Veronica takes a deep drag and exhales, butting out her cigarette in the standing ashtray stand beside the old porch couch she sits on.
“I promise you this: anyone who tries to hurt my family will feel my wrath.”
“Stay frosty and keep your eyes open, Veronica.”
She stands up and nods toward the mirror, finishing the whiskey in a gulp.
“I always keep my eyes open.”
Downtown Houston
Following Day
“I am impressed you trusted Cara to take Chrissie for the day.”
“Well, one thing I know about Cara is that even though she’s a stoner with a disturbing infatuation for our old man, I know she would give her life for any of us.”
Victoria leans her head against Veronica as the two walk down the sidewalk. Victoria was decked out in her favourite light blue Canadian Tuxedo (jeans, pink blouse and jean jacket) while Veronica was in her purple jeans, black blouse and purple leather jacket. It was almost like looking at an angel and a hell spawn. Victoria pulls out her phone and looks over to her twin.
“Did you decide what movie you want to go see?”
“No, I don’t even know what’s playing. Just been so busy with everything, hardly any time to think, let alone know what’s playing right now. You pick.”
Victoria knows Veronica better than anyone and knows something is going on with her. Only Outcast knows about Scott’s soul attached to Veronica because he can see him but can’t communicate, but she would’ve told him. Not to mention, Veronica having visions of her daughter being 10 years-old, telling her mom she needs to help Aunt Jackie (Jack Sullivan).
“Ronnie, what’s going on? Ever since you took a leave from CU:LT, you haven’t been exactly yourself.” Victoria takes Veronica’s hand into hers, reassuring her twin with a gentle squeeze. Veronica smirks and gently shakes her head.
“That obvious?” Veronica knew it wasn’t, and only Vee and Christian would ever pick up on it.
“I know you too well. What’s going on?”
“Where do I begin? We’ll miss the movie.”
“Whatever, you are more important.”
A while later, sitting at the Spindle Sculpture at Eleanor Tinsley Park, Victoria leans back and lets out a deep breath.
“Damn, Ronnie. You have been living with this by yourself?”
“Christian knows.”
“I get that, but it’s just you yourself that has had to deal with it. What’s it like being able to talk to Scott?”
“Honestly? I hate it. I am reminded of what I did to him.”
Vee sighs and puts her arm around Ronnie, giving her a hug.
“That was Valerie, and she is long gone in the other dimension.”
“Do you ever feel guilty we left her there to hurt people?”
Victoria shakes her head no gently.
“No, she’s beyond the Blackwall, floating around in there away from any human being or living creature.”
Veronica lets a small scoff escape her lips before softly nodding.
“What time is it? I promised Cara I’d be home this afternoon.”
Strader Estate
Veronica passes her Auntie Tamika’s home in her Manual 1977 all black Chevy Silverado and begins cruising towards her ranch in 2nd gear. She looks at the car seat beside her being a single cab pickup truck, and that all familiar voice rings through her head.
“Kid, stop. Look.”
“What are you talki- - - oh fuck.” Veronica pulls to the side, putting the truck in park. Veronica looks down the road at her ranch, and while she isn’t known for riding motorcycles like the rest of her brood, she does occasionally and her custom purple ARCH is on its side. The barn doors are open and cattle are wandering around. “Cara! Chrissie! FUCK!”
Before she shifts back into drive, Scott speaks again.
“I know you want to rush in, but be smart. It could be a trap.”
“Fuck. You are right.” Veronica reaches over, popping open the glove-box and grabs her custom .50 calibre Desert Eagle. She drops the clip, making sure it’s full, and slams it back up, pulling back the slide to put a bullet in the chamber. “Let’s go, old man.”
Veronica stalks her away to the home, and climbs up a drainpipe, her gun firmly in the back of her waistband. She opens the window, crawling into the spare bedroom.
After ten minutes, she is positive no one is there, at least not anymore. She looks around her trashed homestead. She stares at a picture placed on the mantle above the fireplace. After taking the silver-framed photo of her, Outcast and their daughter. In the corner was a Photo Booth picture of Veronica and Meghan in hand. The glasz eyes shared between her and the TPW International Champion were about to burst.
“Ron? What happened here?”
Veronica’s head lifts and turns to see her sister holding onto a smiling baby girl who has been deemed the CM Punk of the family. Veronica bum rushes the two into a big hug. She slides her gun in the back of her waistband as one hand comes up in Cara’s and Chrissie’s hair.
“Thank God you two are alright.”
“So… you don’t know what happened here?”
Veronica shakes her head. She lets the embrace go and Cara hands over the baby. Something catches Cara’s eye and walks towards it.
“What the hell is this thing? Some kinda futuristic USB stick?”
Veronica’s eyes go wide as Cara turns around holding up a DATA SHARD. She walks slowly to Cara, taking the shard in her hand.
“How is this possible? This stuff shouldn’t be able to exist here?”
“Whatchu talkin’ bout, Ronniss?”
The mercenary awakes in Veronica, the family sneer peeking through.
“I need to see Vee. Let’s go.”
Fancy Condo
Location Unknown (Night City)
~ START TRANSMISSION ~
“Ahem.”
We turn to Veronica Strader-Cain, walking out of a personal elevator. Her all leather look almost makes her look a dominatrix-type (and really, how far is that from the truth), hair pulled back and a bulge under her brown synthetic-leather Samurai jacket.
“None of you know where I am, and that’s fine. I don’t plan on getting into the conversation about it. I’m here on personal business but haven’t forgotten my professional obligations.”
Veronica walks towards the kitchen area, stopping at her record player to put on a song we have never heard before called “Delicate Weapon” by Lizzie Wizzie. After grabbing a bottle of Broseph Lager, she lights a cancer stick. After a deep drag and a swig of her beer, she walks to the corner section of the bay windows by her red felt pool table.
“My goals are constantly evolving as the world moves and grows around me, like it does for everyone else, but I tend to be more… reactionary. Like getting screwed out of the International Title did me in pretty good. I know I am good enough to beat anyone on any night, and if I lose on my own, I accept it. I didn’t this time, and it pissed me off so much I stepped back.”
“Then dear ol’dad wins the title that was supposed to be mine and calls me up to talk about an idea. That idea that anyone that wants him has to go through me. He knows that out of all of us Knox-Hellspawn, I am the only one that could pull off the wins over the big names.”
“And a big name I get, even though he never said he wanted at Pops, is the Tactilizing One him, Larry Tact. One Strader is his opponent one night and another night, another is his tag team partner. Only in wrestling.”
“Some are aware that Larry and I were to main event Night Two of the PWA hosted Texas Chainsaw Massacre, since the event was in honour of my mom. Prior obligations I had with MGP and Larry’s own obligations made the match postponed for another future date.”
“While management sucks in the spitting kinda way here in TPW, they recognized that Veronica Strader-Cain and Larry Tact are pure money.”
Veronica finishes her beer, and butts out her cigarette. The final exhale of blue death leaving her nostrils in two perfectly straight lines. From the reflection in the bay window as the sun was almost down, we see the orb that was recording this and the Strader Sneer. She stands, facing us head on and walks towards her armoury. A retinal scan unlocks the sturdy door, but before going in, the door stays open via her black snakeskin cowgirl boots.
“While part of my mind is slightly distracted, the competitive part is in full control, Larry. I expect it to be the same for you. Now, you and Cara? Maybe you two are the next best tag team destined to be spoken of in the same breath as the Cowgirls From Hell, but we all know I am not Cara. I love her, I really do, but you’d do well to remember it isn’t Cara you will be in the ring with. I admire your work. Anyone who doesn’t is a narcissistic fool, but I am not your fan girl with your Level Up T-shirts and PWV Wrestle Buddies.”
“I said it when I started wrestling. I said it to management. To opponents. And I will never stop, I will say again…”
A deep inhale, exhale, eyes closing and opening. Sneer in full effect as the Orb drone zooms in for a headshot.
“God forgives.”
“I don’t.”
~ END TRANSMISSION ~
