Kit-Kat Connection Vs. The Entourage Vs. Team Rock Lobster

OOC: 3950 per the word counter thingie. Good luck, everybody!


Wherever Christopher Marlowe might have disappeared to, Catalina wished for a way to contact him through the ether, to manifest her own thoughts into his Elizabethan brain. Otherwise he would never know how annoyed she was that two months of planning had all been for nothing. After their cosplay miscommunication at Chaos 100, she would leave nothing to chance. But as she stared across her apartment, from her couch to the two mannequins on the opposite wall, her annoyance gave way to feelings she would rather not admit to.



Two months of preparation were more than enough time for her to craft perfectly themed ring gear for Ultimate Carnage 6; Mulan for her and Mushu for Marlowe. Cat had no doubt that she could shame Marlowe into dressing as a possibly racist dragon by bringing up how he ruined their three witches theme at the last super show, but his disappearance had robbed her of that opportunity. The outfits were perfect and they were useless. But at least the project gave her something to focus on in her downtime besides Marlowe’s whereabouts.



When she trained for the match, she did it practically. If her partner was missing, then she must be prepared to defend the titles on her own, even against two teams. When she was tumbling across gym mats or firing kicks at a heavy bag, Cat tried to convince herself that under the circumstances, fighting alone could be an advantage. Yet she remained unconvinced.



Their eight month reign was no secret. Any team that got this far would not make the mistake of looking past the champions. They would expect Cat to play to her strengths, and those strengths had been well documented over the last year. Her quickness was a great advantage. It was also a great reason to crush her leg with a ladder. She’d be lucky to climb the first rung before she was intercepted. Rock Lobster and the Entourage knew they could not afford to leave her any openings. Both teams had one member with comparable speed to hers. Perfect for retrieving the titles while their partner played defense. It’s what the Kit-Kat Connection’s plan would’ve been, if there was still a Kit-Kat Connection. Results pending.



Catalina hoped there was, because she could not retain the tag team titles without Christopher Marlowe. The end of their title reign charged toward her with all the fury of an animated Hunnic army. The greatest tragedy was that their coordinated ring gear would go unworn, doomed to be auctioned off later, though Cat already had plans to donate the money to an alligator sanctuary.



Her phone rattled on the coffee table, snapping Cat out of her mope session. A text from her brother brought the screen to life, his words obnoxiously capitalized.



YOU HAVE BEEN SUMMONED







The ballroom of the hotel was posh enough that Catalina felt instantly self-conscious about her Vaporeon hoodie, even though the room was largely empty except for the staff and her own family. As the hostess led her to the table, she noticed her brother’s wardrobe was an attempt at formality. His black Dodgers cap matched his blazer and complemented the white t-shirt underneath. A shot and a miss. Her father opted for a red dress shirt, her mother a denim jacket to match her jeans. The Corteses could not decide to dress up or dress down for the occasion, and Catalina puzzled over just what that occasion was as she approached them. That was until she finally noticed a plastic-sealed cake sitting in the middle of the table. A fumble for her phone confirmed her suspicions. December 4th. Her birthday, and to a lesser extent, Leo’s. The date disappeared in the haze of her post-Marlowe grief and match preparation, but even faced with the promise of delicious cake, Cat did not feel like celebrating. Still, she joined the table with her family, dreading whatever new reasons they might have for being disappointed with her, once they grew tired of pretending this was a benevolent visit. They mumbled their greetings and the show commenced.



“Happy birthday,” Leo said, busying himself with a tray of crab cakes.



Another formality. Leo was only eleven minutes older than she was, but Cat lobbed the well wishes back as casually as she could. “Same, bro.”



The double doors of the ballroom flew open, swinging into the walls with a resounding slam. A ninja, clad in pristine white stood in the doorway, his foot returning to the floor after his opening kick. He pointed to Catalina’s mother. “Avalancha!” he proclaimed, the hostess and wait staff flinching at his words. “I challenge your leadership by right of Kōri no tatakai!”



Dani Cortes rolled her eyes at the intrusion, but slid her chair out and prepared to meet it. “Should only take a moment to punch this idiot’s heart into gelato,” she said, sighing. “If I knew I’d have to deal with this many usurpers I would’ve never become Empress of the Frozen Fist.”



“Do good, Mom,” Catalina said, as her mother sprang into action, firing icy punches at the interrupting ninja. The remaining Corteses watched the opening volley, then returned to their dinner conversation. “Wish you’d told me you guys were coming. I would’ve had some pit beef waiting.”



“I'm not especially impressed with the regional food,” her father said, swiping a crab cake from Leo’s plate. “How’ve you been dear?”



Cat gave a quick shrug. “Ups and downs. Met great-grandpa on the astral plane. That dude sucks.”



“Tried to take over your body?” Javier Cortes asked, receiving a nod from his daughter. “That’s why we never let you visit the astral plane when you were still living at home.”



“Good call,” Cat said. “You coming to the show?” She meant to hold off longer before asking the question, but she was dying to know the answer and hoping desperately that her tone did not betray her eagerness. The timing of the visit was too perfect, but the last time her family saw her wrestle in-person was the day of her catastrophic failure, her first round loss to Lucy Lennon at the Flamingo Cup. Her greatest disgrace and the reason for her East Coast exile. Cat’s heart ached for redemption every day since, but with her partner MIA, her hopes of a successful defense at Ultimate Carnage were unlikely. Had they flown across the country just to watch her next great failure?



“Absolutely,” her father said. “Your success out here has been impressive and we want to see firsthand how much you’ve improved. Leonardo, compliment your sister.
"


Leo looked up from his phone and crabcakes, then to his mother, who’s chaotic brawl spilled from the ballroom and into the lobby, sending hotel staff scattering. His eyes went back to his father’s, while he considered the request, before turning to Cat. “That Zelda costume was pretty sick,” he admitted.



“I was Link,” Cat corrected. “And you’re aware of how irrationally angry I get when people confuse the two.”



The light in Leo’s eyes confirmed to Cat that he definitely knew. It was a game they played countless times. The Cortes children prodding each other in a desperate attempt to earn any sort of praise from their parents. It rarely achieved that end, and most often only further fueled their rivalry. Leo’s smirk let Cat know that he already had another shot ready to fire. “So you alone, against two teams. Not great odds. You gonna cosplay your way out of this one?”



Cat’s lack of a comeback made her feel less combative than usual. She always preferred fights that she could win, and even with an impressive record in 2020, the disappearance of Marlowe had shaken her confidence even more than realized. The snowball that started with her loss to Silvio Leon had become an avalanche, threatening to sweep away all her previous successes. Uncharacteristically, Cat opted for diplomacy. “Since it’s our birthday and it’s been months since we had family time, could we maybe try to be normal and eat ice cream cake?”



“We can try,” Leo conceded. “But our mom is in the next room having a ninja fight. Normal was never an option.”



“Either way, ice cream cake,” Cat said, seizing the cake and hoping in her heart that it was mint chocolate chip. To her disappointment, it was raspberry vanilla. Leo surely picked it out to spite her, but she resolved to eat it anyway, cutting generous portions for the three of them. “Full disclosure, it’s been a bad month. Be pretty cool if I could get a the-greatest-gift-and-honor-is-having-you-for-a-daughter and maybe a hug, because I could REALLY use that right now. Mulan? Anybody?”



The faces of Leo and Javier confirmed that they did not get her reference. Leo tried to keep up anyway. “The new one’s pretty good.”



“Haven’t seen it, but no it isn’t,” Cat said miserably, through a mouthful of raspberry vanilla. The cake tasted even worse when she thought about much Leo was enjoying it. The best she could do was dismiss his terrible taste in gratuitous Disney live action remakes.



“Enjoy the cake,” her father added. “We’ll save any further praise until after your ladder match. Partner or not, we trust you’ll find a way to succeed.”



Cat felt her shoulders slump, her stomach knotting at the idea of once again failing spectacularly in front of her entire family. The ballroom doors flew open again, as the white ninja flew limply through them, landing in a broken heap. His clothes were stained with blood and bits of frost. Dani Cortes gave him a final kick to the gut, before limping over to join her family. “Did your father tell you?” Dani said, cutting herself a piece of cake. “We’re no longer paying your rent.”



“Awesome,” Cat squeaked. “Best birthday ever.”

---

The rest of the dinner was an exercise in awkwardness. The Corteses wouldn’t be mingling with the Legion at the show, instead securing themselves a private room in the arena for a watch party. Cat wondered how the people who were supposed to love her unconditionally might interact with strangers who liked her incidentally. Her anticipation of the match had completely given way to dread of her impending failure and the browbeating she would be subjected to after. The rest of the dinner conversation might as well have been white noise, and Cat was eager to scooter back to her apartment and hide until the show. She was surprised that Leo offered to walk her out.



The walk out of the hotel was quiet, but Leo broke the silence once they were out on the cold streets. “Sorry about that,” he said. “Old habits, I guess.”



Cat didn’t begrudge her brother’s barbs. Their lifetime of competition was ingrained, a never ending battle for supremacy. More often than not Cat was the victor, and with her greatest challenge looming, she had bigger problems than losing a verbal sparring match. “It’s cool,” she said, not quite meaning it, but no longer willing to argue.



“It really isn’t,” Leo said. “I know you’re under a lot of pressure and you don’t deserve to lose your titles over a lovers’ quarrel.”



Cat blinked at him. “A what?”



Leo squinted back. “Between Zed and Marlowe. Did you not notice that they were into each other? Seriously, how did you not?”



“Oh my god,” Cat said, covering her face with her hands to muffle the ensuing scream. It all made sense. Her months of treating Zed like the third wheel, trying to put herself between the two of them while Marlowe played conciliator. She poked and prodded Zed for her own sake and when he finally struck back, it wasn’t against her. It wasn’t rage that drove Marlowe away. It was heartbreak, and she had been too blind to see it. “I am the biggest idiot.”



Leo tried his best to argue. “I’ve known bigger idiots.”



While he struggled to think of an example, Cat reclaimed control of the conversation. “Remember that time I hit you in the balls?”



“Which time?” Leo asked.



A quick calculus brought at least a dozen examples to Cat’s memory, each one funnier than the last. It occurred to her that they were likely less funny to her brother. “Let’s say all the times. All the times I gloated or cheated or did something shitty to one-up you. Not counting the time you broke my 3DS in half and I kicked you in the face, though. I’m so afraid of being a loser that I don’t care about hurting people just so I can feel like a winner. So I’m sorry.”



Leo shrugged. “Apology accepted. You good?”



Cat nodded. “Dude, I really screwed up. I ruined Marlowe’s most important relationship, just so I could play hero and treat him like my sidekick. Of course he doesn’t want to be around me anymore.” She slumped sullenly onto the seat of her yellow scooter.



Leo started to put a hand on her shoulder, but stopped himself. The Corteses exchanged looks of uncertainty over the act of consoling a loved one. “If I got over your bullshit then he will, too. Whatever happens, you’re at least the best person in our immediate family. Low bar, but hey, it’s something else for you to brag about. And honestly…” The hand went to the back of Leo’s head, where he began scratching while avoiding eye contact with his sister. “I’m, uh, really proud of you.”



“Say it, Leo,” Cat said, glaring at him from her scooter.



He glared back, a sickened look creeping across his face. “Cat, please.”



“It’s my birthday,” she pouted.



Teeth clinched, Leo conceded. “The greatest gift and honor is having you for a sister.”



“Holy shit, I love you,” Cat said, leaping from her seat to give her brother a hug that he returned with an awkward pat on the back. The release came quickly, as both Corteses already felt uncomfortable and were eager to reestablish personal space. Cat strapped on a canary yellow helmet and retook her seat on the scooter. “Happy birthday, Leo. You’re the best brother ever.”



“Yeah,” Leo agreed, watching his sister scoot off into traffic and disappear into the Baltimore night. “I’m pretty good.”

---

It was a nightmare landscape of ladders going in all directions, climbs to heaven and hell and every dimension in between; MC Escher’s answer to the ladder match. Faceless figures reached for equally faceless championships, others fell upward in a chaotic spiral, while others still exchanged desperate punches when they reached the apex at the same time as their opponent. It was a green screen backdrop dripping in Deviant Art physadelica, an attempt at visual poetry by Catalina Cortes to chronicle her upcoming spiral into gimmick match madness.



Cat sat atop a real ladder of her own, painted in sleek black and topped with red. Her perch did not appear to be a comfortable one, but the sake of her promo, she would make do. Abandoning cosplay for this particular promo, she wore a bedazzled robe in orange and sky blue, her ring gear split down the middle with the same colors. Her knee pads noting FLYING TYPE and FIRE TYPE. “Karma,” she said, addressing the camera, the ladder beneath her remaining wobble-free as she spoke. “Is one trifling ass bitch.”



“Ask me one month, three months, five months ago,” she said, her fingers running through the numbers as she listed them. “And I would’ve said that if me and Marlowe were still the tag team champions heading into Ultimate Carnage, then we wanted nothing more than a grandiose spectacle of a defense, something befitting the grandeur of our reign. Amazing, unforgettable, awe inspiring, blah blah blah. Now it’s December, Ultimate Carnage Eve, and all the good little Legionnaires are getting exactly that, while your girl has a stomach full of butterflies and a bad case of buyer’s remorse.”



She took a deep and the ladder wobbled. “Triple threat tornado tag ladder match sounds sick as hell and looks great on a marquee, but the notion of defending your titles in such a match is, as they say, a daunting one. I am daunted. This is me daunted. But with or without a partner, it’s my responsibility as a champion to undaunt myself and do everything in my power to eat my challengers alive, then spit out a ladder of their bones Mileena-style and climb my way to victory. Or just use a regular ladder and not engage in cannibalism, whatever. Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but when it comes to jaw dropping displays of agility, I’m pretty much the best in--” The ladder wobbled again, teetering out of the frame and taking Catalina with it. The ladder landed with a hard crash, while Catalina landed with a soft “AAUGH!” The scene cut.



The promo faded back in with the same Relativity ladder backdrop and with Catalina sitting atop a smaller step ladder. She resumed. “Pretty much the best in Carnage. But you’re all smart cookies. You all know that one second is all I need to haul ass up a ladder and snatch the belts back. You’re not just going to give me an opening, which means we’re all going to spend most of this match hurting each other so badly that climbing a little ladder feels like scaling Mount Everest.”



An oscillating fan rotated into the frame and back out, blowing Catalina’s hair back as it did so. “Ah, that cool mountain air. What a lovely way to spend the holidays. Axton, you’re no stranger to scenic vistas and VIP service. And you’ve already tasted the kind of success that people spend their entire lives starving for. I wonder if your appetite has been satisfied and this stint in Carnage is just a fun little side hustle, a way to prove you’re more than just an easy on the eyes idol. Or was music the side hustle all along? I can’t imagine anyone as close to Silvio as you not being a tricksy Hobbit themselves, especially when they’ve got money to burn on god-tier training. People make the mistake of assuming an abundance of style means a lack of substance, but as the poster child for answering that age old argument with a why-not-both gif, I think that’s exactly what you want me to do. Get distracted by all that moxie and pizzazz.”



Reaching out of the frame to turn the fan off, Catalina continued. “Because if Axton Gunn can knock me off my game, then Jonathan Willis can remove me from it completely. He’s got the mental and physical fortitude to endure horrors I can’t even imagine. Willis can walk, or at least crawl away from the kind of punishment that would put me out of a match, if not out of wrestling. And after a year of getting his personal life put through the equivalent of an exploding barbwire with alligators match, one little ladder match has to be a lot less intimidating. Winning the tag titles means vindication, to know that all that suffering wasn’t for nothing. Silver lining, happy ending, light at the end of the tunnel. Emotionally, I feel you, bro. If circumstances were different, I’d probably be rooting for you. But you’re between us and tying the record. For the Kit-Kat Connection, winning means we’re arguably the best team in company history, even if we’re not a team anymore. So, hope you’re in a murdering mood, Jonny. Because you might have to kill me.”



“But then you might have to kill the Entourage, because dude, ain’t no drama like bro drama.” Cat took a breath and sprang up, her feet landing nimbly at the top of the step ladder, her confidence spurred by her proximity to the ground. “Let me tell you, Dom and Seb, are in the unenviable position occupying the Entourage part of Axton Gunn’s Entourage. That might not be their official name, but as a former member of Zed Hotley’s Kit-Kat Connection, I know the unique pain of being identified with a brand that may not represent your core values. If Dominic Strife and Sebastian Hawke win, they not only snap our streak and become the champs, they silence anyone who thinks they’re in Axton’s shadow. Not just gold and glory on the line here, boys. This match decides who becomes the face of the tag division heading into 2021.”



Cat flipped forward, landing on the floor with both feet planted. She leaned back against the ladder and continued. “You guys think I could springboard from the ropes to a ladder in the middle of the ring?” She shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out. But don’t worry, Dom and Seb, I haven’t forgotten about you two. I’m not gonna be reductive and call you the angsty one and the nice one, because Dom’s got a very good reason for that bitter streak. After he lost a chance to be the inaugural Chaos Champion, he hit a groove with the Entourage, and then took a tough loss against Amber Ryan and Silvio Leon. One person who was the world champion earlier this year and another who might be world champion at the end of the year. As someone who also took an L to Silvio, I feel you. If you wanna let some of that anger out and beat the heck out of Willis and Gunn with ladders, homey, I’m in. It’s like punching a pillow. We’ll feel better and laugh about this later.”



“And Sebastian,” Cat continued. “My proud little promo boy. Look how well you’ve done under my tutelage. You’re working a microphone with infinitely more confidence and making that crucial eye contact with your target audience. You’ve even got a newly branded Ten-Million Volt Thunderbolt Kick, the stuff merchandise dreams and cease and desist orders are made of. You almost hit me with that exact kick, because behind that look-how-harmless-I-am smile, you’re hungry for the kind of prestige that two big gold belts can bring. All you gotta do is dig those talons in and take what’s yours. Everything you want is just one ladder away. Don’t let anyone stop you.”



“Spoiler alert, someone might do that. Marlowe or not, I’m attached to my half of the championships and that’s not something I could just give up. Which leaves us with two possible outcomes.”



Poking an inquisitive index finger underneath her chin, Catalina considered the possibilities. “Marlowe shows up, he and I retain together. That one’s pretty good.” She nodded in agreement with herself, following with a thumbs up. “Or he doesn’t. In which case, I win this match all by myself.”



She leaned toward the camera with a smirk. “Even better.”




Catalina examined the costumes a final time, knowing in her heart they were the finest she ever made. Each should fetch a decent amount for auction, enough to keep the alligators supplied with raw chicken for months to come. But these costumes were no longer right for the occasion. It would be too late to coordinate ring attire with Marlowe, but she chose to believe that he would not abandon her. He was too decent to do something like that, even if he had the worst taste in dudes of anyone she had ever met.



In all their time together, it only now occurred to her that Christopher Marlowe was the hero and she was a supporting player. It was a fair trade off. Catalina was great at so many things, that she was perfectly willing to play the sidekick to Carnage Wrestling’s resident Elizabethan. He was the Mulan to her Mushu.



And Mulan couldn’t save China without Mushu.