Post by Admin on Jan 17, 2022 6:10:05 GMT
Packard Plant
Detroit, Michigan
January 22nd, 2022
Veronica had been doing the smart thing and getting the lay of the land well before she and Dylan Thomas were to be dropped in an old decrepit neighbourhood of urban Detroit. She had familiarized herself with which homes were truly abandoned, ones that housed part of a large homeless population, and others that had become makeshift crack dens and meth labs. One thing was for sure: neither one of the OCW stars was going to come out unscathed. Vee when not living out of the arena in Florida had been staying in a cousin’s house, on Meghan’s mother’s side, that was maintained but not used so she would have a place to stay before ACCESS DENIED took place.
She and her personal cameraperson (as he wished to be called because he’s “progressive AF”, his words) sat in the blacked-out Cadillac Escalade rental at the old abandoned Packard Automotive Plant that was one of the possible areas she or Dylan would have to get to with the Trans-Atlantic Championship and be lifted out to be declared the winner and champion. Marcy along with Roxxie had been snooping around the offices of the Arena and had told her of the many possible places, this had the highest probability of being the location. So, Veronica rolled the dice and decided to come and check this spot out with Harold so she could film her last promotional video.
She looks over in the passenger seat to Harold who was crushing two 4mg Hydrocodone in his yellow pill crusher.
“Harold, I have a question for you,” she says to the opiate-hooker fiend that had been filming Strader promotional videos for twenty-two years, most of them for the late Scott Nash Strader, as he stuck his straw in the crusher and sniffed back the two pills.
“What’s that Miss Vee?” he asks in return, as her brow furrows in amazement and slight disgust of his habit.
“How do you take a shit?” she asks with genuine curiosity, as she had heard about opiate abuse dehydrating a person creating constipation.
“With these babies!” he exclaims after pulling out a package of Draymaximus Stool Softeners. She purses her lips slightly as her nose crinkles with a forced smile and nods.
Veronica puts the Escalade in the park position and places the Key-Fob inside her purple Canada Goose winter jacket as she plans to leave the vehicle running to stay warm on this sub-zero temperature evening. The halogen headlights light the road into the abandoned location where the old Packard bridge between the two main buildings used to be but had collapsed years before. Her purple Uggs hit the snow as she exited the luxury SUV, the crunch filling her ears. Her dirty blonde hair falls over her shoulders as she puts on her purple gloves as she looks around at the warehouses while Harold gets out and readies his old reporter-style on-the-shoulder camera that has a light on it to illuminate whatever he films.
“I can see Marcus picking this spot, Harold. We’ll film here,” she says as she hits the lock on the key-fob but not before retrieving her Trans-Atlantic title belt from the back seat and placing it over her right shoulder, using her right hand to hold onto the strap under the main plate. She stands in the middle of the road between the two buildings. Her signal is the red light turning green on Harold’s camera. She smiles widely for her fans and for Dylan Thomas.
“Well, my OCW Faithful, I am back in the great city of Detroit at the possible secret location that is a part of the match stipulations. When I find the Trans-Atlantic strap,” she says, lifting the belt slightly, “I have to get it to a secret location and get on the waiting helicopter to be lifted away to victory. Come on, let’s go explore, shall we?”
Veronica turns and starts walking into the abandoned lot that was once the Packard Automotive Plant. She turns right and heads inside through a broken door. Harold gets in front of her, carefully walking backwards to not trip on any debris lying around. Luckily there isn’t too much as the plant had started to be renovated and cleared out until it was put on hold two years ago. The light on the camera illuminates our champion and the area around her, showing the decay and destruction of the once-proud building. Wooden boards are scattered up against the walls, and rats scurry out of sight at the disruption of the humans that have disturbed their home.
“I heard you talk about how you have never heard of a ‘Mean Streets of Detroit’ before, well, that’s because it’s the first of its kind as far as gimmick matches go, and we get to make to history, in a city full of historical sights and events. When people think of Detroit, they think of Motown, the legacy of the Detroit Red Wings, the disappointment of the Detroit Lions, where General Motors employed a third of the population in building everything from Firebirds to Camaros to Escalades and so on. It’s the home of the Ambassador Bridge that has connected the state of Michigan and the province of Ontario when it opened on November 15th in 1929.”
“When people think of Detroit after January 30th, 2022, they will remember the match that made history for OCW, Dylan Thomas, and the retaining champion, Veronica Strader. It’s disappointing that you aren’t as excited as I am or as excited as the OCW Faithful is for this match. You and I have taken this event by the balls, and we have climbed the rankings in the Heat Check overtaking the likes of Zybala, BRIM, Outcast, Mario, PerZag, Grenier and the rest of those involved in this show.”
Veronica finds a decrepit stairwell and begins to make her way up it; looking back over her shoulder to the camera and the stairs in front of her, she illuminates with a small flashlight the area in front of her that she has taken out of her winter jacket.
“There aren’t many people that give me the respect I deserve. For example the traitor janitor likes to take shots at me, but I have stifled him and shut his wide mouth up every time. When Victoria was first signed to OCW by the former GM Who’re, she did it by being persistent and followed it up by going 2-0, earning herself a shot at this strap on my shoulder. But as we all know, Poblano and Welsh decided a purge was in order.”
Veronica finds she has to climb over debris further up the decrepit stairwell. She almost falls but catches herself and continues.
“Marcus chose me to return out of everyone that was purged not because I could’ve kicked the door down; it’s because I did. I earned my way into the shot Victoria had earned for us, and I made sure the dream of becoming a champion in OCW was fully realized. Not only did I become the Trans-Atlantic Champion, but I became one in my home country, in front of my OCW Faithful. As much as I dislike Victoria’s father, it means I come from not one but two lines of wrestling. Meghan Strader is a third-generation wrestler making Victoria, well, me, fourth generation. She and the late Scott Nash Strader were the ones that trained the both of us.”
With her free shoulder, she slams into the door, and the gust of cold air hits her and Harold in the face, making her cheeks turn red from the cold. She walks out onto the roof of the Packard Building, holds out her arms, and spins around a few times. She stops and smiles for the camera before walking near the edge, overlooking the city of Detroit, and in the distance, the lights of the Ambassador Bridge. The cold wind gently blows her hair back, showing her gorgeous profile.
“I have to say, it’s refreshing to have someone give me the proper dues I have earned, but you brought up an interesting point about no one can be a forever champion; every reign eventually comes to an end. You are correct in that statement. I mean, that happened to you last month.”
She looks at her right shoulder at the championship belt and back to us.
“I know I won’t be champion forever, Dylan. No one ever is. It’s what you do between winning the title and eventually losing that makes your legacy. I bring up Death March for two reasons, number one being it’s where I was finally able to be who I was meant to be, and number two, it’s because of that night that has brought you and me to this very point. The only thing is Dylan, and you won’t become the next Trans-Atlantic Champion; it’ll be when the first notch is made in my run as champion that will be looked back upon as epic. You are right. There won’t be a doubt in anyone's mind that I WILL STILL be OCW’s Trans-Atlantic Champion. You will be my greatest test to date, and damn it anyway, I’m excited as hell to face off with you.”
“Sure, it’s not your typical wrestling match but doesn't that just mean it's ‘Classic OCW, baby’? That concludes right here on this roof. Or maybe some other place, but truthfully I hope it’s here… it’s just so fitting.”
A small sigh escapes her lips as the condensation freezes, forming a cloud in front of her face.
“Outside of helping me, you haven’t wrestled a match since Death March, and sometimes you have to revisit the past to achieve the future. I have been trying to tell you that for over a month, and I have tried to warn you about what I am capable of. You chose not to listen, or heed my warning and that’s what will cost you that. While I have been training and wrestling to prepare for you, you haven’t done all that much besides kidnap a hardworking little person and go to see a guy named Rusty in Detroit you know from California to wrestle in some joke of a match on your little daytime TV show on local access television because E! wouldn’t sign for it in preparation for me. I told you before, Dylan: God? He forgives.”
She lets the family sneer creep across her lips as she slightly tilts her head down but never takes her eyes off us inside the lens.
“I don’t.”
Veronica looks back up, and the scene fades out on her flame-flickering glasz eyes.
Two Hours Later…
Back at the house where Veronica was staying was all quiet. Harold was at a nearby hotel as he didn’t want to disrespect her with his ladies of the evening, and she ended up falling asleep on the couch in the living room area of the small bungalow. She had been watching DVDs of past OCW events featuring Dylan Thomas, prepping for her contest at ACCESS DENIED. Her eyes open, but they are different than usual; the flicker of flame is not there. Her hands touch her legs, stomach, her chest and then her face. She sits up slowly and looks around, confused but not in a freaked sort of way but more in “is this real? Or a dream?”. She sits up and goes to put her hair in a ponytail, but she can’t find a hair elastic. She eyes an iPhone 13 on the coffee table in front of the blue couch she is sitting on. She picks it up and punches in a passcode, but the screen shakes, and a frown hits her lips. She contemplates the possible passcodes until she puts one in and gains access. She scrolls through the contacts but doesn’t seem to find the one she’s looking for.
“Hopefully, her number hasn’t changed…”
She taps away at the screen with a North Carolina area code number. It rings for a few seconds, and a woman answers.
“Hello?”
“Mom… is that you?”
The next few seconds feel like an eternity, but the woman finally responds.
“Vi… Victoria?!”
Tears rolled down Victoria's face.
“Yes, it’s me. I don’t know how long I have…”
“You have no idea how good it is to hear YOUR voice. Are you ok? What has Veronica done with you?”
Victoria sighs with relief before she answers.
“I’m ok mom, I have been in a nice place. Remembering mom and dad and my life before I learned about you and everyone else.”
Meghan, on the other line, takes a deep breath.
“We miss you, baby girl. Are you back for good?”
“No, she let her guard down and will resume control, but I wanted you to know I have seen and heard everything while I have been away. Please tell Cara I’m sorry and I love her. I love you, mom. Please don’t get hurt in the Battle Royal.”
“You too, and I won’t. What about your father?”
A tear rolls down her left cheek.
“I have heard everything. I got to go. Please, help me get free. I love you.”
Before Meghan can answer, Victoria hangs up, clears the call from the list and curls up on the couch, crying.
(2228 Word Count)
