A jet black late-model Lincoln Town Car idled at the corner of E Lexington and N Charles Street. The windows were tinted, occupants unknown. With the green light, the vehicle turned left into the one-way passage. Stopped at 233.
Old St. Paul’s Church.
The engine cut off. A well-dressed man stepped out of the vehicle. His tilted chauffeur’s cap obscured most of his identifying features save the occasional flash of glass-sharp blue eyes, but he was undeniably put well together. He opened the passenger’s side door and after a few moments, a blue high heel nicked against the brick-paved sidewalk. The gentleman offered his hand, and it was accepted. Out stepped a tall, dark-haired pale woman, made taller with the stilettos she wore. She wobbled as she kept her balance on the unevenness of the bricked surface. Or maybe due to the bottle of champagne she held at her side by the neck. Her hair was done up in a loose bun. Her shoulders were bare from an oft-described blue dress that flared out at her waist and ended just above the knees. Her lashes were plentiful, and lips cherry red.
After one last deep swig, the woman handed the man the bottle, hiccuping through her words, “Hold this.”
Steeling herself, Adrienne Levi stood before the high arches of the historical Baltimore church.
The heels clicked and clacked on the linoleum floor as Adrienne went up through the pews. The interior was resplendent in His Glory. Columns and arches surrounded her. Above was the starry night. High before her, a deception of Saints looking for Guidance was immortalized in glass.
At His altar, she knelt. Closing her eyes, she looked upward, her expression serene.
However, her words trembled with apprehension. “God.”
His name echoed throughout.
“The real one, I mean.” Ade said this softly as if she knew He could hear her anyway. “I’ve met you before. You’ve many forms, don’t you?”
She nodded affirmatively before continuing.
“It was you after all that whispered those honeyed promises. I believed them all. All I had to do is give myself to you many times over. Whatever form you took, I consumed.”
Her mascara became marred as tears rolled down her cheeks, perhaps in remembrance of Him.
“And in return, you gave me your protection. Shielded me from a world I could never understand. There is no good left. No kindness, you said. Everyone out there will take something from me that I will never get back.”
Adrienne’s hands came together in prayer.
“And so here you are again, to show me the way. I know that earthly desires are not what you crave. I’ve forsaken so much of myself already. All for you. My innocence. My virtue. My reputation.” Her thoughts strayed to some recent confusing thoughts as of late, “Perhaps, the understanding of my own self. But there has to be something...”
Snap.
The kneeling woman was frozen in time. The only movement being a stained tear moving further down.
Out behind the altar stepped Baltimore’s Champion, Adrienne Levi.
“That’s going to look so cool when they’re done,” she said, then frowned suddenly. “Shoot. I just broke the fourth wall, didn’t I?”
She ducked behind the altar, then called out, “Probably cut that out. Up to you.”
Snap.
Once more, Adrienne Levi. She stepped out behind the altar, clutching the Baltimore City Championship close to. Her hair was down, and she dressed more to what most knew her to wear these days. Her thumbs poked out of holes in the long sleeves of her hoodie. This was a church, so she opted for a nice pair of jeans instead of her usual leggings. However, the sneakers stayed.
“...and Ken, I’m not sure I have what you want anyway.”
She smiled politely.
“I know, I’m getting ahead of myself. This is, after all, just a match.”
Moving in front of the altar, she sat down on the steps. The unmoving form of the woman in the blue dress was just out of sight. Adrienne set her championship belt just in front of her. The main plate shimmered in the light.
“But you have such a flair for the dramatic that it would only be fair if I tried to match you,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders. “Anyway, I’m Adrienne.”
She did not smile. However, she did give Ken a small wave as per tradition.
“I know you have more important affairs upcoming, but you’ll have to settle for me this time around. Your reputation precedes you, and I know that you’ve asked others not to be, but it is nearly an impossibility not to be intimidated by your resume. You’re the world’s champion, after all. And before you came to this little corner of the world, you’ve been enshrined in not one, not two, not three, but four Halls of Fame.”
She held up four fingers with a wry smile, and whether she was being sarcastic or not ...one will never know.
“I’m no champion of the world. Just this city. I hope I don’t sound off-putting with that. I can’t tell you how much I love it here. I was afraid that the fine people who run this church wouldn’t have let me do this, but once I explained a few things - they were more than accommodating.”
As Adrienne’s words turned back to Ken Davison, her tone became solemn.
“I don’t see that happening for you lately, Ken. You’ve sort of become Carnage’s pariah. I’m guessing that doesn’t matter much to you. After all, look at where you are. You stand upon Mount Olympus, looking down upon all of us little people. Now I’m not going to start spinning tales of the Gods and Titans. It’s already been done much better than I could, and truthfully, I couldn’t pronounce most of their names anyway. But you’re the best. That’s what you’re saying, right? So any respect given is possibly,” she said, pausing for effect, her raised hand tipped back and forth, “condescending?”
Once again, Adrienne’s shoulders shrugged.
“However, that’s your right. But understand that I’m a bit hesitant in trusting your intentions. Don’t get me wrong, you’ve never lied before. Since coming here last year, you’ve done exactly what you’ve promised. Right from the get-go, you went through former and current champions alike. You’ve taken every shortfall as an opportunity to improve, and every time you’ve stepped into the ring, you’ve adapted and overcome. In a land of giants, you stand a head taller despite what has been given to you from … well, I don’t know. I’m not sure. But let’s just say a divine presence, okay?”
Being aware of where she was, Adrienne nodded and moved on.
“But swinging back around to this thing about people not liking you very much. Jack Michaels, JC, Amber Ryan, all of them have had less than favorable words to say about you. Words that I don’t like to say, so you’ll just have to bask in your own memories of them. Even some of my friends have promised to do unspeakable acts of violence against you. It would be fair to say that you seem to bring out the worst in people contrary to your claims,” she said. Reflexively, she grabbed up the title, seemingly hugging it. “That was the worst of me.”
The worst of her.
After a battle where she fought tooth and nail to survive against a superior fighter, holding that championship poured out every ugly distraught emotion for that pay-per-view audience to see.
Capturing the Baltimore City Champion represented redemption against the expectations of what many thought she was capable of. Her friends in this company had been nothing but supportive of her but none of them had seen her at her worst.
For over a decade, she was a girl from Clearwater being used as a commodity. The horrors of those nights were better left behind but the consequences were marked in the loss of two lives. Now she wasn’t sure but it certainly felt that way then.
In the industry, she was as she told Amber, an accessory.
Carnage represented a chance to leave that behind but the realities of the business were harsh. Ade could either sink or swim and in the first few months, water-filled her lungs. Seen as someone to feed to the monsters until she pleaded with someone, anyone to just believe in her.
Her vision to the audience was blurred through her tears. But even then, she could see the little girl screaming her lungs out. She could see a new friend applauding with a tear in her eye.
Who she didn’t see was Danny. That’s because he’d faded away the very moment. Whatever he was. Whether it was him or a manifestation of all of her doubt and self-loathing, she wasn’t sure. She’d experienced things as of late that didn’t deem possible. She felt ordinary amongst a group of people she couldn’t exactly explain.
But here she was, this one moment that was just hers. Adrienne set aside the twang of guilt she felt for her opponent. She knew that The Dragon Lady wanted this just as much.
But Ade was desperate for this. Desperate to wash away everything Danny ever was. This championship victory did the one thing for her that Danny never had. Legitimacy.
The best of her.
The camera panned out. The woman in the blue dress still knelt before the altar. Adrienne stared at herself. Adrienne stared at herself. Or rather, as there weren't two Adriennes in the world, an approximation of herself.
“I would have crawled through glass to be subjugated by Danny. To those who balk at such a thing,” she said, voice lowered to a murmur, “hopefully, you will never understand why.”
Her gaze once again became affixed to her subject.
“I don’t share those feelings. This match isn’t meant as an act of vengeance. Ken Davison, your actions can’t be helped. May I explain?”
Adrienne brought out a rolled poster from inside her hoodie. Unfurling it, she revealed a group shot of Paragon. All of them. Even the ones who were no longer here. However, at the forefront was one man.
“As you know, Paragon was a thing in Carnage for a long time. Jack Michaels used a select group of people to feed into his legacy. I know Jack will speak to his charitable nature and willingness to give back to the business, plus everything he’s done for his family but one look at the present tells you everything you need to know. Paragon dominated this company. Jack especially. As you may know, Ken, he’s the longest-reigning world’s champion ever. I just learned that the other day.” Adrienne barely contained a snicker. “And through Jack’s quest to mold Carnage into his image, he always had opposition. However, Paragon, for the most part overcame all of them. I know some of you will dispute this but understand that they survived you all - but did not survive Ken Davison.”
Setting the poster aside, Adrienne readjusted the Baltimore City Championship.
“Ken, you systematically tore through Paragon one by one. Folks watching at home may just see our TV product and look at what you’ve accomplished and are probably content. However, if they took the time to listen to your sermons, they would understand. You’re responsible for Eli Goode’s downward spiral. If it weren’t for you, he’d be a-okay toiling in Jack’s shadow. You’re responsible for Amber Ryan’s fall from grace. No longer is she a two-time world’s champion. Instead, through your efforts, you’ve reduced her to a game piece on your board. As a brief aside, I’m not sure you’re ready for the repercussions of that. And while it seems complicated, Kyra stands beside you on your ascended plane. But Jack. Jack is your masterpiece. Through your machinations, Jack Michaels betrayed his own image in some quest to end you. Turning nearly the entire roster against him and he still failed.”
Adrienne was never usually impressed with devious plots and manipulations. However, Ken’s took the cake.
“Some folks probably are wondering: Why would you do this? That isn’t something mortals should try to answer. But I’d like to wager a guess anyway. Paragon made you. I hope you don’t take that as an insult. I know in this business, the idea of making someone is a debt essentially but this is totally different, trust me. What I’m saying is that you are a symptom of Paragon’s time here. Perhaps born of necessity. A need for a change. A taste of their own medicine, even. Those are dark thoughts, I know. I’m not saying that Jack Michaels deserved you, but he certainly didn’t help the situation. The fact that he now only expresses humility after being brutalized in the manner he was tells me everything I need to know about Jack.”
Being a student of the game, Adrienne had spent a lot of time in the last half-year learning about Ken Davison. He was always an outlier. He was well-spoken and effective at what he did. He always managed to turn a match into something it shouldn’t be.
“So, what does this have to do with me?”
Shaking her head, she answered promptly, “Nothing. This is just an exhibition match with a fancy marquee. I know a lot of people have aspirations towards what you have. And I wouldn’t belong in this business if I said that I didn’t either. But now is not my time. Take yourself back to your first year, Ken. I’m sure you were as great as you are right now. Me? I’m okay. I’m happy with what I’ve accomplished. Maybe you could understand how much it means to be a champion. The power it gives. The responsibility there is to represent this company in a way that will make others look … up to you. I stand before you as just this city’s champion. I’ve got a fraction of your experience, and I’m not capable of what you’ve done to others. Most times, I’m fighting to stay above water in these matches, and yet, here I am.”
Hefting the title back into her arms, she stood up.
“As I said, I’m Adrienne. That’s all I can be. I know you have a full dance card coming up. Matt Knox, Amber Ryan, and JC all want what’s yours. And maybe just a little more. And fair advice to them, that’s exactly what you want.”
Stepping forward, Adrienne cast one more cursory glance at what represented a time where she may have just believed Ken. Anything he could do to save her from what she had become would have been worth it.
“I’m not here to play by your rules, Ken. I’m here to fight you, and as a champion, I’m here to show the world what heights I can ascend.”
The feed faded to black, but not before another snap from Adrienne caused the other to flicker and outright disappear.
Last Edit: Oct 18, 2020 11:08:53 GMT -5 by Deleted: image issue
