Back to School (Victoria Strader for Tyrant Match)
Feb 9, 2021 3:07:12 GMT -5
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Post by JNS on Feb 9, 2021 3:07:12 GMT -5
Brothers of Mayhem Firestation Clubhouse
Redwood City, California
January 31st, 2021
Late Evening
Well, this is going reasonably well for Cara.
The Strader clan (minus Scott Nash Strader) had gathered together to open the results of a DNA test showing she was, in fact, Victoria’s fraternal twin, and it was a decent bash after the fact. Cara fit right in, making Vic happy that her twin was finding her back to the family after what their grandfather did, selling her at birth. However, she couldn’t help but be a bit jealous of all the attention Cara was getting. The main area where John (and eventually his new brothers when he finds the men for his charter in Redwood City) parks his bikes have been moved and is now full of Strader’s and their significant others. Dustin and Meghan Kelser sat along the left wall were on a blue loveseat, Simon and Tamika Kalis on the other side of a corner on a couch that faces out towards the doors with Tamika playing with Meghan’s toddlers. It wasn’t common knowledge yet that Cara was Victoria’s twin and the family wasn’t in any rush to let that out in the open. John had been in his office, and Victoria made her way over to see if he was as she took one last look at her sister, getting to know their mother, aunt, uncle and stepfather. All very overwhelming even for someone who would be considered ‘easy-going.’ She comes upon his office and sees him there working away.
I wonder what he is up to…
Tap Tap
Victoria peaked in to see him better, but he didn’t hear her tapping on the door frame. John is hunched over going over something she was sure club related and was best to ask. She considered trying to sneak up on him, but she had no luck yet in doing that and today wasn’t going to be the day.
“Why are you stuffed away in here?” she asks, with a vibrancy that only comes from youth. “Aunt Meeks put out a heck of a spread.”
“Yeah, I am not all that hungry kid, but you go enjoy the gathering. I will be out in a bit, promise,” he said to her in response while never looking up. She knows better than to push it when she saw he was buried in club work, so she quietly says ‘ok’ to herself and pivots out of the office.
It really was quite the spread. Tamika and Victoria had prepared food all day since the old firehouse had quite the kitchen in it. Finger sandwiches, wraps, crudité platters, etcetera.
At least she’s not taking up our uncle’s time. I am curious as to why, though… I need to remember to ask her what she thinks so far of the family.
Cara was over by the main doors looking out the windows up at the sky’s stars when Victoria approached her. Cara smiled when she saw Victoria.
“So, how are you feeling?”
“Everyone is great, but I am a little overwhelmed,” she responded, and her nerves are getting to her. “Meghan and Dustin are super nice, and their- - - well, our brother and sister are so adorable!”
“Yeah, that takes some getting used to, trust me. Our mom comes off as a crass bitch, because she is, but she is the best mom someone could hope to have. I will always love my mom and dad who raised me, but mom here has been awesome. Our little sister and little brother are just too cute," she coos in her comment showing she is madly in love with the twin babies. Her voice turns slightly icy, “At least you didn’t walk in on our grandpa and your girlfriend like I did,” the bitterness was still very fresh in the young Strader’s heart and voice when she spoke of him, and like when she saw her ex earlier in the day.
“Yeah, that was kind of crazy and a bit gross. Well, unless gramps enjoys dark and handsome like my man, I think I am safe. I hope. Hey, isn’t gramps married to Amy-Lee?” she asks, tilting her head, not breaking eye contact with her twin as Victoria nods to answer. “I mean, whatever floats your boat, but that’s just wrong.”
Victoria could only continue to nod her head in agreement, but the small talk is really helping the beginning stages of a sisterly bond.
“You want to go upstairs to my room? Something I want to talk to you about,” she says quietly as she grabs Cara’s hand, not letting her answer and leads her past the main hall to the stairwell that is in between John’s office and the kitchen as they go up a U-shaped style staircase. The girls didn’t see it, but Meghan smiled, watching her daughters start to bond, much like she did with Tamika fifteen years ago.
They head straight down the hallway, and Vic pushes her door open. It wasn’t a big room, but it was girly cute. Victoria had painted the walls magenta, her double sized bed with a pink duvet in the left corner, the headboard beside a window overlooking the fire station’s driveway. An old school Cowgirls From Hell flag pinned on the right wall overtop a white desk where an Apple desktop was placed under it. On the left wall was a poster Unbreakable Resolution that Victoria competed and lost at but she got John to sign his picture that was on it for her. The girls sit down on the bed, and Victoria turns on her blue Sony SRS-XB20.
“Any requests… sister?” she asks, looking at Cara with a hint of a smile. She was trying to connect to a piece she never knew she was missing, but it had been on a subconscious level until now.
“My dad and I used to go for rides in his metallic black ‘69 GTO listening to Led Zeppelin, but the last couple of times, it has been Greta Van Fleet,” she said with a smile, as Victoria obliged her request. ‘Highway Tune’ plays as the twin sisters sit in silence listening to the song.
“You know what is kind of crazy?” Victoria asks, breaking the silence outside the music in the background.
“What’s that?”
“That we grew up only a couple hours from each other, and we have, well it is ‘had’ for me, super cool parents that raised us,” she says with a smile tilting her head to the left, wanting to maintain that eye contact.
“That’s true; the parallels and similarities are pretty crae-crae!” Cara said with the same smile in her eyes that is placed across her lips. In this light, she realized they had the same eye colour of green to hazel.
Oh wow, I never noticed before. She has eyes like me and like Aunt Meeks. I wonder if we have anything in common?
There was no question of a bit of awkwardness between them, but they both were trying to connect, and before she could even think about the idea that she wanted to talk to her about, it left Victoria’s lips at damn near warp speed.
“Want to be my manager?!”
What the hell? Did I really just ask her that? Oh Mylanta, this is embarrassing.
“I’m sorry that was completely random,” she says shying away from Cara a bit.
“No, no, it’s ok! I would be lying if I said I wasn’t interested. I haven’t had much luck with work this last year. What does it entail?” she asks Victoria with genuine curiosity.
Well, it’s not a terrible idea. I can get to know her better, and it would make mom extremely happy. Frick it, let’s do this. Note to self, think things through at least a little bit!
“Well, you come down to ringside with me to make sure no one murders me because I swear Project: Honor is trying to do precisely that! I have an idea for a promo, but I need some help, and Uncz has his own match to worry about.”
Why are you so quiet? Answer already!
“Yeah, you know what? Count me in! What are you thinking about for the promotional work?”
Ok, let’s see if she is on the up and up, and who knows, maybe a sister bond like our mom and aunt.
The sisters begin bonding as they start to plan Victoria’s promo entry into the Tyrant Crowning between Fallout and Proving Ground talent.
“You know, we should do this like we are cramming for an exam and need that ‘A’!” the brunette blurts with her right hand coming up, index finger standing tall and sweeping upwards across her upper torso. Victoria chuckles and shakes her head.
Ok, back to school, you say? Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.
START BROADCAST
Catholic Central High School
London, Ontario Canada
February 8th, 2021
Late Evening, 9:00 PM EST
Our scene opens up on the corner of Colborne Street and Dundas Street, where Victoria had gone to high school. We slowly fade in towards the school and fade back into the gymnasium where the theatre department has their stage where eight mobile chalkboards are ready to go across the stage’s length but are laid out in a horizontal position. Standing up on stage in the middle of it is Victoria Strader, the Queen of Fallout, daughter of Meghan Kelser, niece to John Strader and Tamika Kalis. The Queen’s new manager, Cara Townsend, is handling the camera work for her boss currently. Vee is in a simple pair of blue jeans, a white hemp belt with a cow skull belt buckle, brown Uggs, a pink turtleneck with her sleeves rolled up, showing a platinum Gucci watch, and a pink scrunchie to hold her ponytail up high. She gives us that wide sweet smile of hers, holding onto a purple pointing stick while resting on her right shoulder.
“Good evening Project: Honor universe, it tis I, your Queen!” she exclaims, pointing her pointing stick in the air, standing on the tips of her toes, arching her back before coming back down. “Welcome to Catholic Central High School! This is where me and my mom, the current Revolution1 Wrestling Tag Team Champion, went for our secondary education. I made lots of memories in this building, even on this stage here, heck, even outside where we are in the downtown area of what is commonly known as the Forest City. I have been wracking my brain trying to figure out how to approach this clusterchuck of a match! I mean, I know I sound like a bit of a broken record, but it really does feel like PH would be alright with me dying. Still, I am not ok with that, and that’s why I decided it was best to be as prepared as I possibly can so me and my trusty sidekick and colleague, Miss Cara Townsend! Say hi to the folks at home!”
The camera turns around, and we are greeted with the former PWA play-by-play’s face in Cara Townsend, who smiles brightly, her green eyes feeling familiar to us, but we just can’t seem to place it. The camera turns back to face our Queen.
“Alright, as you can see, we have eight double-sided chalkboards! Unfortunately, I don’t practice the dark arts to pull these things out of nowhere as Arik Holt does, so instead, my lovely manager and myself have built these study notes on what you could call flashcards on roids! But not the cocaine-fueled typed ones in SEX uses.”
Cara and Victoria share a chuckle as the latter adjusts herself and puts on her serious face. Going left to right, Victoria heads to the first one, flipping it around and smacking the polaroid that is taped to the chalkboard:
“So the peeps in charge thought it would be cool to have the brands kill each other, leaving two from each side to battle. First, from Proving Ground, we have the big bad OZYMANDIAS! This guy is slightly crazy, and we may need Batman!” she exclaims with a sly smile followed by a chuckle. “Seriously though, this guy stands six foot seven, three hundred-fifty-seven pounds, and is an OG millennial. He serves his high priestess, which makes sense cause you would have to be high to underestimate this big bad mammer-jammer and think that a self-proclaimed higher deity is commanding you to stuff, like telling you to become a wrestler. It’s sad to say, but this guy totally drank the Kool-Aid,” she says with smacking the pointer against the bullet point on the board. She knew he was a dangerous man and had every chance of making it to the end, and if she did too, she needed to be ready.
Victoria flips the chalkboard to the other side, revealing a Fallout star. Again her pointer smacks the board but lands on the small man syndrome issue.
“Ok, so we got this guy. Mr. One Dimensional is so dumb he confuses having respect for someone to mean being friends; for instance, I respect Maverick as a talent, but he is the furthest thing from being a friend. I mean, this guy is a walking paradox in the fact that he is a massive dick with a small phallus. That means penis, Pyro,” and again, she smacks the pointer on that point. “I know you only got a grade four eDuMaCaTiOn, so I wanted to make sure you knew; I’ll let you figure out what a paradox is,” she says, a smirk on her face. “This sociopath stands at six foot one, two hundred and five pounds, from Kent, born 1989 and is the biggest sore loser in Project: Honor today. I know who you are, Flame-Boy, and you don’t scare me. You are a sad, lonely, pathetic man who doesn’t have his priorities anywhere near straight. I would say grow up and be a man, but your interactions after being set on fire show’s you wouldn’t know how to be one anyway.”
Victoria walks over to the next chalkboard and stands on its right side. She flips it up to show the Proving Ground X-Factor Champion, Indy Darling. Her pointer made a lighter tap and touched the name she put on the polaroid.
“Oh, Indy, I can’t believe you would ever hurt your manager, and I can only imagine the emotions that are running through you! I hope you sue the police department for wrongful arrest! I mean, Doc is like a father to you, and I understand completely what that’s like,” she says with a sweetness that definitely would only be heard a couple more times for select individuals. “The passion for the business drives you; having Xavier around your waist means everything to you, and most importantly, you do it for the legendary Clive Darling. Even with all the respect I have for you, Indy, if I make it to the end, I won’t hesitate and make a mistake as I did in the Purge with Knoxxy. I would really like to wish you luck, but I am getting tired of losing,” she says with a touch of bitterness.
Victoria smiles for the camera as she flips the board to reveal the next competitor. She uses her pointer to emphasize the same point she put up multiple times.
“Oh, Maverick. Yeah, I said Maverick. I tried to be friendly and show you some respect as you are the man of a thousand moves, but then you had to open your mouth. It’s one thing to use curse words to emphasize the importance of whatever you are trying to put across,” she says with a sigh and a look of disgust. “And just like anyone who lacks the creativity that takes a shot at the Strader family, they go the vulgar, disgusting route. Call us kissing cousins, say we fornicate with our siblings’ etcetera, etcetera because let me tell after everything I heard about you; I expected a lot more. I mean, you are this five-foot-eleven one hundred and ninety-five-pound guy, but after the triple threat, I am not all that concerned. Don’t take that as me underestimating you, because I am not. However, there are other more dangerous men and women to worry about, and besides, I’ll cancel you before Twitter gets the chance to,” she says softly as she walks over to the third chalkboard; once again standing to our right and her left, she moves the board up for us to see.
“Ooooh, next we have Shawn Warstein, sometimes known as Fuzz, and Shawnzy by his closest friends. Cara, is it not true what I said about one half of “Legacy” yesterday as we were preparing our current presentation?” she asks her manager.
“Yes, you called him the Babe Ruth of Project: Honor.”
“That’s right! Out of everyone in this craziness that has been booked, Warstein is the one everyone should watch out for because he’ll make you regret it if you keep your head down. He’s cool, calm, collected, one half of the PH Tag Team Champions, and he’s not afraid to raw dog you bare after slipping something in your drink. This guy does what he does purely for glory and the fact that he’s bored, so in essence, he is a man with nothing to lose. God help us all when he decides he’s doing it for something more. I would wish you luck, but as I said to Indy Darling, I really want to win this match, so I hope you stub your toe on the ring steps,” she reveals. She flips the chalkboard around for her next target and lets out a disgusted sigh, and keeps her pointer away from the board like she might catch something.
She turns that scowl towards Cara and the camera. There weren’t many who were fans of Kayla Richards, and after listening to her speak or following her on social media, they would become even less in numbers.
“Kayla Richards, I have learned everything I need to know about you in the interaction you had with my Uncz and the Project: Honor website: five-foot-something, one hundred and thirty-five pounds, born on the 13th of May in the mid-’90s in England, and appear to be a pure striker and brawler. On paper, you look incredibly dangerous. The thing though?” she asks, holding her hands out, palms up showing a query through her body language as the pointer rests under her right arm. “When you decided to attack my Uncz on social media, you showed everyone who you are. A keyboard warrior, someone who shouldn’t see any TV time and be left in dark matches. You felt the need to body shame him for what he looks like, shame a name that we hold onto proudly because it means family, even when we are fighting we are strong for one another when needed, you say you have faced bigger and badder, but who, when, and where?! Well, Kayla, I’m not bigger, and maybe I am not badder, but I certainly am better. Bragging about downing enhancement talent is right up your alley it seems. If there is only one thing I get to do, I hope it’s eliminating you because you aren’t worth the dirt on the bottom of my winter Uggs.”
We can see that talking about Kayla Richards has upset the young Strader, but she takes a second to compose herself before heading to the fourth chalkboard. She flips it up to reveal Little Miss Vex, and her pointer is back in action, highlighting the fact she had a dream.
“Kasey, the other week when I got knocked out of the ring, and you were able to beat Maverick, I couldn’t help but feel a pang in my chest, as if that win was mine. I will not stand here and regurgitate what I said the other week because everything still stands. I am a student of the game. I am continually learning. You even tried to give me some advice about my family and that we would put Jerry Springer, whoever that is, extremely aroused or something of the sorts, sorry, I know I am paraphrasing here,” she says to us, and it feels like she is watching us. “Like how I am starting my career in the industry, with this being my third match, as you like you have said somewhere, I think it was on Wiki; you are at the end of yours. So my question is… why are you allowing yourself to be put in these situations? It’s not like there is some retired wrestler who has made their very own Yoga that you can use,” she says, biting her bottom lip. “If it comes down to you and me, I will not get knocked from the ring, and I will beat you. I learned a lot from our triple threat with the rude boy. Hmmm, who’s next? Let’s find out, shall we!” she exclaims, flipping the board over to reveal Mark Hunter. Her pointer finds itself landing on the words cry baby written on his polaroid.
“Ok, everyone, we got Mr. Mark “Give Me Give Me” Hunter up next, as you can see. Now, Mr. Hunter is an English bloke slash mate who is genuinely a profound technical wrestler. I mean, you watch this guy’s tapes, and it can be intimidating for a rookie like me who is going into her third match professionally. She just realized all matches had three or more competitors making her go third person; so you wanna talk about getting jerked around, Mr. Hunter, look no further than me,” she says, tilting her head to the right, slowly blinking to signal she is quite serious, and also grateful the third person speak went away. “Since you joined, you have done nothing but complain. I mean, sure, you are 2-1-0. You won that crazy Purge Match and have a brand new Lunchbox (I hope it came with a matching thermos) with lunch or nothing in it. But I guess it is true you got screwed, no question, against The Commonwealth on Proving Ground last week. Also, beating the X-Factor champion, winning a lunch box in a homicidal match up, an empty town in a chance to murder us for money, and you get rewarded being put in this Tyrant match. However, Mr. Hunter, even if I weren’t paying attention and being the excellent student of the game I am always paying attention, I would know because you honestly never stop crying about it. I mean, it’s supposed to be my generation that complains and wants things handed to them, not yours! Way to change the stereotypes, Mr. Hunter! Hashtag, Mr. Progressive,” she said, chuckling.
She does a little twirl as she comes up to the chalkboard number five. She turns around from turning the chalkboard vertical showing us Kallie Reznik.
“You know, Kallie, I think you were the only one I was researching that didn’t bug me in some way; you really didn’t. From what I can tell from the minimal footage my manager and I went through, you are a little dynamo with a dash of luchador love, and you helped a frickin’ Polar Bear prepare a Nazi for dinner! I mean, we should be giving you a trophy for what you did,” she says with a sigh. “Butttttttt, that’s not what is happening. Rock Johnson wants us to bleed so he can shower in champagne and cheap women (and Thai guys.. Again TMZ). No, what is happening is that we will probably come face to face, because like I said earlier, I need to put what I have learned into this match, and when we do, I will have to put you down. It isn’t anything personal, strictly business, which is probably a mutual feeling. I need to come face to face with other strong competitors like you and just win. Kasey was right about one thing, and it wasn’t because of the so-called drama of my family (ok, maybe it could be, shut up), but I need to go into it believing in myself. So while I would enjoy having a frappuccino or something with you after or before a show, I will have put my size eight foot up your bum first. It’s no hard feelings, just a quick colonoscopy,” she says with a strange glee as her smile gets wider.
“Ok, so this one here, I’m not quite sure. I mean, who doesn’t have a finishing move?!” she exclaims, throwing her arms up in the air. An exaggerated slap to her denim emphasizing her question, which also sent her pointing stick flying, that she has to dodge, and it bounces off the stage and almost hits Cara in the head, but she ducks, taking us down with her. Victoria looks up, one eye closed and looking to make sure the coast is clear. She quickly composes herself and continues like nothing happened, as does Cara.
“You know in all my studying of all my opponents and possible opponents if I somehow make it to that point, and I will be doing damndest to do just that, I will be doing it because I love this sport while a good chunk doesn’t even seem to be interested in it! As I said, we have Kagame, who has no finishing move and would rather be a J-Pop star in Nagasaki, Japan!” She moves over to the next one to show Emmanuelle’s quick stats.
“There is this one here from Los Angeles, California, with absolutely no respect for the business considering she hates it. She’s here for financial gain and fame. I mean, she is so vain she won’t even list her weight,” she says with a shrug and a shake of her head. She walks down to the next one with an extra bounce of confidence in her step.
“This guy does take the cake, though. He calls himself ‘Pop Punk Prince,’” we as an audience take notice of her use of air quotes with her hands, “I mean if wrestling doesn’t work out for you, Blair, you could have a job as Dex Griffin’s dental floss.”
“Hahahaha,” Cara can’t help but laugh at her si- - - boss’s joke. Victoria chuckles too but quickly gets herself back on track, and Cara steadies the camera.
“Blair, you can’t expect to be the next big thing in this business without working for it. That’s not just ridiculous, but it’s insulting to the roster’s talent that works hard every day to be better than the day before. The one thing that Blair, Emmawhateva, and Kaggie have in common is that it is their debut match, and I can understand what it’s like to be thrown to the wolves. It isn’t fair, but life isn’t fair either, I learned; seeing your girlfriend take it from your grandfather kind of teaches you a thing or two about this game we all play called life.”
Victoria moves to the last one and flips it up.
“The Rated R Reaper, handsome half breed, aka Alex Slayer. This guy makes Lil Petey look like a talented wrestler. According to my notes, this guy is sitting at 1-4-0. He also claims to be able to go to the dark places but hates gimmick matches. It explains his record a bit! I will show this Japanese native living in Winnipeg why his hatred for matches like this is the reason for his current standings. I probably have dedicated more time to him than anyone else will, but that’s ok. The more I talk about everyone, the more I remember what I need to know about my opponents and possible opponents when the bell rings, which means the more likely it is I will be declared the Tyrant of Project: Honor.”
Victoria walks to the Blair Regent chalkboard, flipping it around to reveal her stripper wingman, Julius Fairweather. She’s all smiles for her homie.
“Ah, what can I say about my friend and fellow beaver enthusiast. The Weatherman, The Shepherd, Bad Motherfucker. Now, his first match didn’t go as planned, like many people, even mine, when the future Legacy champion Matt Knox took advantage of my naiveness and eliminated me from The Purge,” she says, taking a second to form her the next words out of her mouth. “Just because I like you, hang out at Butch’s outside of Reno with you, and are a pretty good wingman, but that doesn’t mean I won’t low blow you to advance. I’m sorry to say that you will remain ‘undefeated,’” she says as she throws up the air quotes, as it means he’s not going to win, at least she hopes, but if it’s not her, Julius would be acceptable. Victoria looks to the two chalkboards left, moves over to Emmaunelle one, and flips it over to reveal her mother’s thirst trap.
“Bruce, I have a load of respect for you. Your dedication to your craft is inspiring. You get up every morning, you hit that gym, and you put in the work. You have three to four times the experience than any single one of us has. For a good chunk of us, this is the beginning of hopefully long injury-free careers. In contrast, competitors like you and, say, Kasey Winterborn, are either in the twilight of your careers or approaching it,” she says, giving Bruce a deserving amount of respect that he has earned. “What happens to wrestlers when they are in the twilight of their careers? They wittingly or unwittingly pass the proverbial torch, or at least they are supposed to.”
Victoria raises her brow and shrugs.
“How many more rounds do you have left in those fists for punching the hard skulls of the people that dared to challenge you? That’s something only you can answer. Will the Scottish Da take all us young whippersnapper punks down to the corner of humility and defeat? Or will he underestimate a young blonde (no, not Kallie, jerks) woman and face the fact it could be him down on the corner?” she asks while taking a second to compose herself. “You have lived past being the hero Bruce, but will you live long enough to see yourself become the villain? Or blow out a hip?”
Victoria moves back to the Alex Slayer board and flips it around to reveal information about herself.
“Finally, there is me. Why did Cara and I take the time to do one up about me? It’s simple. I’m not so arrogant to think I don’t have any faults. Heck, I haven’t won a match since starting in the business. I have made mistakes, I will make mistakes, but taking the approach I have to his sport, I will continue to learn and continue to get better.”
She walks forward on the stage and sits down dead centre of it on edge, letting her legs hang off it. She leans back on the palms of her hands and continues.
“I am tired of not winning. I want to win. I want to be named Tyrant of Project: Honor. The time for learning is never over, but now I must apply what I have been taught in my previous sanctioned matches and sparring sessions with the family. So while some think I should check my family drama at the door, I will not do that. I am gonna take it, learn it, love it, live it, and apply it. I promise the Project: Honor universe that no one wants this more than I do.”
“I am the Queen of Fallout, and one way or another, you will bend the knee.”
Our scene begins to fade on the infamous Sneer of the Strader clan on her face fading into the Fallout Logo.
Redwood City, California
January 31st, 2021
Late Evening
Well, this is going reasonably well for Cara.
The Strader clan (minus Scott Nash Strader) had gathered together to open the results of a DNA test showing she was, in fact, Victoria’s fraternal twin, and it was a decent bash after the fact. Cara fit right in, making Vic happy that her twin was finding her back to the family after what their grandfather did, selling her at birth. However, she couldn’t help but be a bit jealous of all the attention Cara was getting. The main area where John (and eventually his new brothers when he finds the men for his charter in Redwood City) parks his bikes have been moved and is now full of Strader’s and their significant others. Dustin and Meghan Kelser sat along the left wall were on a blue loveseat, Simon and Tamika Kalis on the other side of a corner on a couch that faces out towards the doors with Tamika playing with Meghan’s toddlers. It wasn’t common knowledge yet that Cara was Victoria’s twin and the family wasn’t in any rush to let that out in the open. John had been in his office, and Victoria made her way over to see if he was as she took one last look at her sister, getting to know their mother, aunt, uncle and stepfather. All very overwhelming even for someone who would be considered ‘easy-going.’ She comes upon his office and sees him there working away.
I wonder what he is up to…
Tap Tap
Victoria peaked in to see him better, but he didn’t hear her tapping on the door frame. John is hunched over going over something she was sure club related and was best to ask. She considered trying to sneak up on him, but she had no luck yet in doing that and today wasn’t going to be the day.
“Why are you stuffed away in here?” she asks, with a vibrancy that only comes from youth. “Aunt Meeks put out a heck of a spread.”
“Yeah, I am not all that hungry kid, but you go enjoy the gathering. I will be out in a bit, promise,” he said to her in response while never looking up. She knows better than to push it when she saw he was buried in club work, so she quietly says ‘ok’ to herself and pivots out of the office.
It really was quite the spread. Tamika and Victoria had prepared food all day since the old firehouse had quite the kitchen in it. Finger sandwiches, wraps, crudité platters, etcetera.
At least she’s not taking up our uncle’s time. I am curious as to why, though… I need to remember to ask her what she thinks so far of the family.
Cara was over by the main doors looking out the windows up at the sky’s stars when Victoria approached her. Cara smiled when she saw Victoria.
“So, how are you feeling?”
“Everyone is great, but I am a little overwhelmed,” she responded, and her nerves are getting to her. “Meghan and Dustin are super nice, and their- - - well, our brother and sister are so adorable!”
“Yeah, that takes some getting used to, trust me. Our mom comes off as a crass bitch, because she is, but she is the best mom someone could hope to have. I will always love my mom and dad who raised me, but mom here has been awesome. Our little sister and little brother are just too cute," she coos in her comment showing she is madly in love with the twin babies. Her voice turns slightly icy, “At least you didn’t walk in on our grandpa and your girlfriend like I did,” the bitterness was still very fresh in the young Strader’s heart and voice when she spoke of him, and like when she saw her ex earlier in the day.
“Yeah, that was kind of crazy and a bit gross. Well, unless gramps enjoys dark and handsome like my man, I think I am safe. I hope. Hey, isn’t gramps married to Amy-Lee?” she asks, tilting her head, not breaking eye contact with her twin as Victoria nods to answer. “I mean, whatever floats your boat, but that’s just wrong.”
Victoria could only continue to nod her head in agreement, but the small talk is really helping the beginning stages of a sisterly bond.
“You want to go upstairs to my room? Something I want to talk to you about,” she says quietly as she grabs Cara’s hand, not letting her answer and leads her past the main hall to the stairwell that is in between John’s office and the kitchen as they go up a U-shaped style staircase. The girls didn’t see it, but Meghan smiled, watching her daughters start to bond, much like she did with Tamika fifteen years ago.
They head straight down the hallway, and Vic pushes her door open. It wasn’t a big room, but it was girly cute. Victoria had painted the walls magenta, her double sized bed with a pink duvet in the left corner, the headboard beside a window overlooking the fire station’s driveway. An old school Cowgirls From Hell flag pinned on the right wall overtop a white desk where an Apple desktop was placed under it. On the left wall was a poster Unbreakable Resolution that Victoria competed and lost at but she got John to sign his picture that was on it for her. The girls sit down on the bed, and Victoria turns on her blue Sony SRS-XB20.
“Any requests… sister?” she asks, looking at Cara with a hint of a smile. She was trying to connect to a piece she never knew she was missing, but it had been on a subconscious level until now.
“My dad and I used to go for rides in his metallic black ‘69 GTO listening to Led Zeppelin, but the last couple of times, it has been Greta Van Fleet,” she said with a smile, as Victoria obliged her request. ‘Highway Tune’ plays as the twin sisters sit in silence listening to the song.
“You know what is kind of crazy?” Victoria asks, breaking the silence outside the music in the background.
“What’s that?”
“That we grew up only a couple hours from each other, and we have, well it is ‘had’ for me, super cool parents that raised us,” she says with a smile tilting her head to the left, wanting to maintain that eye contact.
“That’s true; the parallels and similarities are pretty crae-crae!” Cara said with the same smile in her eyes that is placed across her lips. In this light, she realized they had the same eye colour of green to hazel.
Oh wow, I never noticed before. She has eyes like me and like Aunt Meeks. I wonder if we have anything in common?
There was no question of a bit of awkwardness between them, but they both were trying to connect, and before she could even think about the idea that she wanted to talk to her about, it left Victoria’s lips at damn near warp speed.
“Want to be my manager?!”
What the hell? Did I really just ask her that? Oh Mylanta, this is embarrassing.
“I’m sorry that was completely random,” she says shying away from Cara a bit.
“No, no, it’s ok! I would be lying if I said I wasn’t interested. I haven’t had much luck with work this last year. What does it entail?” she asks Victoria with genuine curiosity.
Well, it’s not a terrible idea. I can get to know her better, and it would make mom extremely happy. Frick it, let’s do this. Note to self, think things through at least a little bit!
“Well, you come down to ringside with me to make sure no one murders me because I swear Project: Honor is trying to do precisely that! I have an idea for a promo, but I need some help, and Uncz has his own match to worry about.”
Why are you so quiet? Answer already!
“Yeah, you know what? Count me in! What are you thinking about for the promotional work?”
Ok, let’s see if she is on the up and up, and who knows, maybe a sister bond like our mom and aunt.
The sisters begin bonding as they start to plan Victoria’s promo entry into the Tyrant Crowning between Fallout and Proving Ground talent.
“You know, we should do this like we are cramming for an exam and need that ‘A’!” the brunette blurts with her right hand coming up, index finger standing tall and sweeping upwards across her upper torso. Victoria chuckles and shakes her head.
Ok, back to school, you say? Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.
START BROADCAST
Catholic Central High School
London, Ontario Canada
February 8th, 2021
Late Evening, 9:00 PM EST
Our scene opens up on the corner of Colborne Street and Dundas Street, where Victoria had gone to high school. We slowly fade in towards the school and fade back into the gymnasium where the theatre department has their stage where eight mobile chalkboards are ready to go across the stage’s length but are laid out in a horizontal position. Standing up on stage in the middle of it is Victoria Strader, the Queen of Fallout, daughter of Meghan Kelser, niece to John Strader and Tamika Kalis. The Queen’s new manager, Cara Townsend, is handling the camera work for her boss currently. Vee is in a simple pair of blue jeans, a white hemp belt with a cow skull belt buckle, brown Uggs, a pink turtleneck with her sleeves rolled up, showing a platinum Gucci watch, and a pink scrunchie to hold her ponytail up high. She gives us that wide sweet smile of hers, holding onto a purple pointing stick while resting on her right shoulder.
“Good evening Project: Honor universe, it tis I, your Queen!” she exclaims, pointing her pointing stick in the air, standing on the tips of her toes, arching her back before coming back down. “Welcome to Catholic Central High School! This is where me and my mom, the current Revolution1 Wrestling Tag Team Champion, went for our secondary education. I made lots of memories in this building, even on this stage here, heck, even outside where we are in the downtown area of what is commonly known as the Forest City. I have been wracking my brain trying to figure out how to approach this clusterchuck of a match! I mean, I know I sound like a bit of a broken record, but it really does feel like PH would be alright with me dying. Still, I am not ok with that, and that’s why I decided it was best to be as prepared as I possibly can so me and my trusty sidekick and colleague, Miss Cara Townsend! Say hi to the folks at home!”
The camera turns around, and we are greeted with the former PWA play-by-play’s face in Cara Townsend, who smiles brightly, her green eyes feeling familiar to us, but we just can’t seem to place it. The camera turns back to face our Queen.
“Alright, as you can see, we have eight double-sided chalkboards! Unfortunately, I don’t practice the dark arts to pull these things out of nowhere as Arik Holt does, so instead, my lovely manager and myself have built these study notes on what you could call flashcards on roids! But not the cocaine-fueled typed ones in SEX uses.”
Cara and Victoria share a chuckle as the latter adjusts herself and puts on her serious face. Going left to right, Victoria heads to the first one, flipping it around and smacking the polaroid that is taped to the chalkboard:
“So the peeps in charge thought it would be cool to have the brands kill each other, leaving two from each side to battle. First, from Proving Ground, we have the big bad OZYMANDIAS! This guy is slightly crazy, and we may need Batman!” she exclaims with a sly smile followed by a chuckle. “Seriously though, this guy stands six foot seven, three hundred-fifty-seven pounds, and is an OG millennial. He serves his high priestess, which makes sense cause you would have to be high to underestimate this big bad mammer-jammer and think that a self-proclaimed higher deity is commanding you to stuff, like telling you to become a wrestler. It’s sad to say, but this guy totally drank the Kool-Aid,” she says with smacking the pointer against the bullet point on the board. She knew he was a dangerous man and had every chance of making it to the end, and if she did too, she needed to be ready.
Victoria flips the chalkboard to the other side, revealing a Fallout star. Again her pointer smacks the board but lands on the small man syndrome issue.
“Ok, so we got this guy. Mr. One Dimensional is so dumb he confuses having respect for someone to mean being friends; for instance, I respect Maverick as a talent, but he is the furthest thing from being a friend. I mean, this guy is a walking paradox in the fact that he is a massive dick with a small phallus. That means penis, Pyro,” and again, she smacks the pointer on that point. “I know you only got a grade four eDuMaCaTiOn, so I wanted to make sure you knew; I’ll let you figure out what a paradox is,” she says, a smirk on her face. “This sociopath stands at six foot one, two hundred and five pounds, from Kent, born 1989 and is the biggest sore loser in Project: Honor today. I know who you are, Flame-Boy, and you don’t scare me. You are a sad, lonely, pathetic man who doesn’t have his priorities anywhere near straight. I would say grow up and be a man, but your interactions after being set on fire show’s you wouldn’t know how to be one anyway.”
Victoria walks over to the next chalkboard and stands on its right side. She flips it up to show the Proving Ground X-Factor Champion, Indy Darling. Her pointer made a lighter tap and touched the name she put on the polaroid.
“Oh, Indy, I can’t believe you would ever hurt your manager, and I can only imagine the emotions that are running through you! I hope you sue the police department for wrongful arrest! I mean, Doc is like a father to you, and I understand completely what that’s like,” she says with a sweetness that definitely would only be heard a couple more times for select individuals. “The passion for the business drives you; having Xavier around your waist means everything to you, and most importantly, you do it for the legendary Clive Darling. Even with all the respect I have for you, Indy, if I make it to the end, I won’t hesitate and make a mistake as I did in the Purge with Knoxxy. I would really like to wish you luck, but I am getting tired of losing,” she says with a touch of bitterness.
Victoria smiles for the camera as she flips the board to reveal the next competitor. She uses her pointer to emphasize the same point she put up multiple times.
“Oh, Maverick. Yeah, I said Maverick. I tried to be friendly and show you some respect as you are the man of a thousand moves, but then you had to open your mouth. It’s one thing to use curse words to emphasize the importance of whatever you are trying to put across,” she says with a sigh and a look of disgust. “And just like anyone who lacks the creativity that takes a shot at the Strader family, they go the vulgar, disgusting route. Call us kissing cousins, say we fornicate with our siblings’ etcetera, etcetera because let me tell after everything I heard about you; I expected a lot more. I mean, you are this five-foot-eleven one hundred and ninety-five-pound guy, but after the triple threat, I am not all that concerned. Don’t take that as me underestimating you, because I am not. However, there are other more dangerous men and women to worry about, and besides, I’ll cancel you before Twitter gets the chance to,” she says softly as she walks over to the third chalkboard; once again standing to our right and her left, she moves the board up for us to see.
“Ooooh, next we have Shawn Warstein, sometimes known as Fuzz, and Shawnzy by his closest friends. Cara, is it not true what I said about one half of “Legacy” yesterday as we were preparing our current presentation?” she asks her manager.
“Yes, you called him the Babe Ruth of Project: Honor.”
“That’s right! Out of everyone in this craziness that has been booked, Warstein is the one everyone should watch out for because he’ll make you regret it if you keep your head down. He’s cool, calm, collected, one half of the PH Tag Team Champions, and he’s not afraid to raw dog you bare after slipping something in your drink. This guy does what he does purely for glory and the fact that he’s bored, so in essence, he is a man with nothing to lose. God help us all when he decides he’s doing it for something more. I would wish you luck, but as I said to Indy Darling, I really want to win this match, so I hope you stub your toe on the ring steps,” she reveals. She flips the chalkboard around for her next target and lets out a disgusted sigh, and keeps her pointer away from the board like she might catch something.
She turns that scowl towards Cara and the camera. There weren’t many who were fans of Kayla Richards, and after listening to her speak or following her on social media, they would become even less in numbers.
“Kayla Richards, I have learned everything I need to know about you in the interaction you had with my Uncz and the Project: Honor website: five-foot-something, one hundred and thirty-five pounds, born on the 13th of May in the mid-’90s in England, and appear to be a pure striker and brawler. On paper, you look incredibly dangerous. The thing though?” she asks, holding her hands out, palms up showing a query through her body language as the pointer rests under her right arm. “When you decided to attack my Uncz on social media, you showed everyone who you are. A keyboard warrior, someone who shouldn’t see any TV time and be left in dark matches. You felt the need to body shame him for what he looks like, shame a name that we hold onto proudly because it means family, even when we are fighting we are strong for one another when needed, you say you have faced bigger and badder, but who, when, and where?! Well, Kayla, I’m not bigger, and maybe I am not badder, but I certainly am better. Bragging about downing enhancement talent is right up your alley it seems. If there is only one thing I get to do, I hope it’s eliminating you because you aren’t worth the dirt on the bottom of my winter Uggs.”
We can see that talking about Kayla Richards has upset the young Strader, but she takes a second to compose herself before heading to the fourth chalkboard. She flips it up to reveal Little Miss Vex, and her pointer is back in action, highlighting the fact she had a dream.
“Kasey, the other week when I got knocked out of the ring, and you were able to beat Maverick, I couldn’t help but feel a pang in my chest, as if that win was mine. I will not stand here and regurgitate what I said the other week because everything still stands. I am a student of the game. I am continually learning. You even tried to give me some advice about my family and that we would put Jerry Springer, whoever that is, extremely aroused or something of the sorts, sorry, I know I am paraphrasing here,” she says to us, and it feels like she is watching us. “Like how I am starting my career in the industry, with this being my third match, as you like you have said somewhere, I think it was on Wiki; you are at the end of yours. So my question is… why are you allowing yourself to be put in these situations? It’s not like there is some retired wrestler who has made their very own Yoga that you can use,” she says, biting her bottom lip. “If it comes down to you and me, I will not get knocked from the ring, and I will beat you. I learned a lot from our triple threat with the rude boy. Hmmm, who’s next? Let’s find out, shall we!” she exclaims, flipping the board over to reveal Mark Hunter. Her pointer finds itself landing on the words cry baby written on his polaroid.
“Ok, everyone, we got Mr. Mark “Give Me Give Me” Hunter up next, as you can see. Now, Mr. Hunter is an English bloke slash mate who is genuinely a profound technical wrestler. I mean, you watch this guy’s tapes, and it can be intimidating for a rookie like me who is going into her third match professionally. She just realized all matches had three or more competitors making her go third person; so you wanna talk about getting jerked around, Mr. Hunter, look no further than me,” she says, tilting her head to the right, slowly blinking to signal she is quite serious, and also grateful the third person speak went away. “Since you joined, you have done nothing but complain. I mean, sure, you are 2-1-0. You won that crazy Purge Match and have a brand new Lunchbox (I hope it came with a matching thermos) with lunch or nothing in it. But I guess it is true you got screwed, no question, against The Commonwealth on Proving Ground last week. Also, beating the X-Factor champion, winning a lunch box in a homicidal match up, an empty town in a chance to murder us for money, and you get rewarded being put in this Tyrant match. However, Mr. Hunter, even if I weren’t paying attention and being the excellent student of the game I am always paying attention, I would know because you honestly never stop crying about it. I mean, it’s supposed to be my generation that complains and wants things handed to them, not yours! Way to change the stereotypes, Mr. Hunter! Hashtag, Mr. Progressive,” she said, chuckling.
She does a little twirl as she comes up to the chalkboard number five. She turns around from turning the chalkboard vertical showing us Kallie Reznik.
“You know, Kallie, I think you were the only one I was researching that didn’t bug me in some way; you really didn’t. From what I can tell from the minimal footage my manager and I went through, you are a little dynamo with a dash of luchador love, and you helped a frickin’ Polar Bear prepare a Nazi for dinner! I mean, we should be giving you a trophy for what you did,” she says with a sigh. “Butttttttt, that’s not what is happening. Rock Johnson wants us to bleed so he can shower in champagne and cheap women (and Thai guys.. Again TMZ). No, what is happening is that we will probably come face to face, because like I said earlier, I need to put what I have learned into this match, and when we do, I will have to put you down. It isn’t anything personal, strictly business, which is probably a mutual feeling. I need to come face to face with other strong competitors like you and just win. Kasey was right about one thing, and it wasn’t because of the so-called drama of my family (ok, maybe it could be, shut up), but I need to go into it believing in myself. So while I would enjoy having a frappuccino or something with you after or before a show, I will have put my size eight foot up your bum first. It’s no hard feelings, just a quick colonoscopy,” she says with a strange glee as her smile gets wider.
“Ok, so this one here, I’m not quite sure. I mean, who doesn’t have a finishing move?!” she exclaims, throwing her arms up in the air. An exaggerated slap to her denim emphasizing her question, which also sent her pointing stick flying, that she has to dodge, and it bounces off the stage and almost hits Cara in the head, but she ducks, taking us down with her. Victoria looks up, one eye closed and looking to make sure the coast is clear. She quickly composes herself and continues like nothing happened, as does Cara.
“You know in all my studying of all my opponents and possible opponents if I somehow make it to that point, and I will be doing damndest to do just that, I will be doing it because I love this sport while a good chunk doesn’t even seem to be interested in it! As I said, we have Kagame, who has no finishing move and would rather be a J-Pop star in Nagasaki, Japan!” She moves over to the next one to show Emmanuelle’s quick stats.
“There is this one here from Los Angeles, California, with absolutely no respect for the business considering she hates it. She’s here for financial gain and fame. I mean, she is so vain she won’t even list her weight,” she says with a shrug and a shake of her head. She walks down to the next one with an extra bounce of confidence in her step.
“This guy does take the cake, though. He calls himself ‘Pop Punk Prince,’” we as an audience take notice of her use of air quotes with her hands, “I mean if wrestling doesn’t work out for you, Blair, you could have a job as Dex Griffin’s dental floss.”
“Hahahaha,” Cara can’t help but laugh at her si- - - boss’s joke. Victoria chuckles too but quickly gets herself back on track, and Cara steadies the camera.
“Blair, you can’t expect to be the next big thing in this business without working for it. That’s not just ridiculous, but it’s insulting to the roster’s talent that works hard every day to be better than the day before. The one thing that Blair, Emmawhateva, and Kaggie have in common is that it is their debut match, and I can understand what it’s like to be thrown to the wolves. It isn’t fair, but life isn’t fair either, I learned; seeing your girlfriend take it from your grandfather kind of teaches you a thing or two about this game we all play called life.”
Victoria moves to the last one and flips it up.
“The Rated R Reaper, handsome half breed, aka Alex Slayer. This guy makes Lil Petey look like a talented wrestler. According to my notes, this guy is sitting at 1-4-0. He also claims to be able to go to the dark places but hates gimmick matches. It explains his record a bit! I will show this Japanese native living in Winnipeg why his hatred for matches like this is the reason for his current standings. I probably have dedicated more time to him than anyone else will, but that’s ok. The more I talk about everyone, the more I remember what I need to know about my opponents and possible opponents when the bell rings, which means the more likely it is I will be declared the Tyrant of Project: Honor.”
Victoria walks to the Blair Regent chalkboard, flipping it around to reveal her stripper wingman, Julius Fairweather. She’s all smiles for her homie.
“Ah, what can I say about my friend and fellow beaver enthusiast. The Weatherman, The Shepherd, Bad Motherfucker. Now, his first match didn’t go as planned, like many people, even mine, when the future Legacy champion Matt Knox took advantage of my naiveness and eliminated me from The Purge,” she says, taking a second to form her the next words out of her mouth. “Just because I like you, hang out at Butch’s outside of Reno with you, and are a pretty good wingman, but that doesn’t mean I won’t low blow you to advance. I’m sorry to say that you will remain ‘undefeated,’” she says as she throws up the air quotes, as it means he’s not going to win, at least she hopes, but if it’s not her, Julius would be acceptable. Victoria looks to the two chalkboards left, moves over to Emmaunelle one, and flips it over to reveal her mother’s thirst trap.
“Bruce, I have a load of respect for you. Your dedication to your craft is inspiring. You get up every morning, you hit that gym, and you put in the work. You have three to four times the experience than any single one of us has. For a good chunk of us, this is the beginning of hopefully long injury-free careers. In contrast, competitors like you and, say, Kasey Winterborn, are either in the twilight of your careers or approaching it,” she says, giving Bruce a deserving amount of respect that he has earned. “What happens to wrestlers when they are in the twilight of their careers? They wittingly or unwittingly pass the proverbial torch, or at least they are supposed to.”
Victoria raises her brow and shrugs.
“How many more rounds do you have left in those fists for punching the hard skulls of the people that dared to challenge you? That’s something only you can answer. Will the Scottish Da take all us young whippersnapper punks down to the corner of humility and defeat? Or will he underestimate a young blonde (no, not Kallie, jerks) woman and face the fact it could be him down on the corner?” she asks while taking a second to compose herself. “You have lived past being the hero Bruce, but will you live long enough to see yourself become the villain? Or blow out a hip?”
Victoria moves back to the Alex Slayer board and flips it around to reveal information about herself.
“Finally, there is me. Why did Cara and I take the time to do one up about me? It’s simple. I’m not so arrogant to think I don’t have any faults. Heck, I haven’t won a match since starting in the business. I have made mistakes, I will make mistakes, but taking the approach I have to his sport, I will continue to learn and continue to get better.”
She walks forward on the stage and sits down dead centre of it on edge, letting her legs hang off it. She leans back on the palms of her hands and continues.
“I am tired of not winning. I want to win. I want to be named Tyrant of Project: Honor. The time for learning is never over, but now I must apply what I have been taught in my previous sanctioned matches and sparring sessions with the family. So while some think I should check my family drama at the door, I will not do that. I am gonna take it, learn it, love it, live it, and apply it. I promise the Project: Honor universe that no one wants this more than I do.”
“I am the Queen of Fallout, and one way or another, you will bend the knee.”
Our scene begins to fade on the infamous Sneer of the Strader clan on her face fading into the Fallout Logo.
