Post by MitchAllen on Jul 15, 2019 21:03:01 GMT -5
"Congratulations, you won!" A voice echoed in Mila Rader's head as she sat in a bar, enjoying a drink. It was a dark bar with barely any patrons. A whiskey neat, which she had been nursing for a good bit. It's weird how you can go from being at the top within yourself and the chaotic surroundings of a filled arena to the quiet and subdued surroundings of a dive bar. Life has truly always been a roller coaster. No matter how interesting or dull someone's life could be. At the end of the day, we all go to sleep just to live again the next day.
"Another?" A gruff and deep voice wondered from the other side of the bar. Mila was too in her head to hear him though. "Ma'am?" He questioned as she blinked a few times coming back to reality. "Uh... sure." She said as she slammed the rest of the booze down her throat that was left. She slid the glass back to him and got up to use the restroom. He went to pour her another as she went in. The bathroom was not the cleanest and the lights flickered occasionally. But, what could one expect here?
She sighed and went to the mirror. She studied her face a little, as the light flickered above her. She looked up to it a little annoyed and then turned the faucet on. She wetted her hands underneath and splashed her face. And then washed her hands. She took her time, washing under her nails even. She washed it all away and went to grab some papered towel from a dispenser. She used it on her hands and then her face. Turning off the water, she moved for the door. "So, what's next?" A familiar female voice asked, which stopped Mila in her tracks.
She turned to see no one. Wincing with confusion a bit, she went to dismiss it. "So, you're just going to leave without a response?" The voice wondered as Mila stopped herself from leaving again. "I know you're just a voice in my head," Mila said out loud, knowing that it was indeed the truth. "Yeah, another voice in Mila's head. Better go write another book, yeah?" The voice wondered as Mila walked back into the bathroom, looking into each stall. Nothing closed and she was indeed the only one in there. "Fuck." Mila said out loud.
"Well, that would be a change of pace, now wouldn't it? Find yourself someone that you can physically connect with instead of trying to avoid every human interaction." Silence befalls the room."Oh, did I cut too deep, Mila?" The voice wonders, as she shakes her head and pushes through the door and back into the main bar area. She goes to the bar and grabs the drink that was poured and slams it down. She places thirty bucks on the bar and leaves out the door. The bartender looks confused as he watches her leave, none of the other patrons minding her at all.
Outside it's raining on this otherwise overly warm July day. She finds herself walking at a brisk pace but, overall not minding the rain. her thoughts swirling in her head. She was tired of all the voices she carried in her noggin and each one wanting something different. Sometimes it was almost more of a need, an impulse than anything else and it made her want to do things out of her character things that she couldn't even fathom and yet there they somehow were. Each new unlikely thought became a character, an identity.
She entered her apartment, closing and locking the door behind her. Taking a deep breath in, she closes her eyes and lets it out as she begins to remove her clothing. "Surprised you're taking it off. You like the weight of the rain on your body. You always have. Remember that time you ran away from home and you regretted not checking the forecast before doing so because all it did was rain? Then you broke down and laid in that field of flowers, as it rained down on you?" The voice was back but, less biting this time.
It was a different one. It was a little sweeter. More innocent. Mila sat down on her couch in her bra and shorts, she ran her fingers through her hair, as she laid down. She wasn't interested in responding. "You feel it now, yeah? Not going to answer me because that would be insane right? And surely no sane person talks to themselves." The voice carried on and yet Mila said nothing. "Let me tell you something Mila, everyone talks to themselves. And if they tell you they don't, they're not aware of it. Even if they don't talk out loud, that voice is there."
The voice sounds a little more irritated now. "I am not insane." Mila finally says out loud, as the voice becomes intrigued. "Of course not, Mila." She responds. "Remember when you killed me in your dream the other night and you woke up and had a relatively normal day?" The voice wondered. Mila said nothing as she laid with her arm over her eyes. "You can't kill your mind off Mila. It doesn't work that way. We are here for you." The voice reassured her. "Oh, would you shut the hell up?!" Mila asked, showing more frustration this time.
"You all can be here and that is fine! You can be anywhere you want but, when I start to here you in a public location, where I should not then we have a problem! I could hear her in that bathroom! Not just in my head. In that bathroom and that, that right there does not work!" Mila was up and gesturing now to no one in particular. She looked in no certain direction, as she leaned back and she positioned her head, as if looking up but, her eyes were closed. "Just leave me be."
Two Days Later
Mila sits in a chair in front of her computer typing away, her back had been hurting her lately and somehow found harder chairs to be a bit more comfortable so, she had done away with her usual desk chair and swapped it for a wooden one from the kitchen. She sat in her underwear as the air conditioning had gone out and Mr. Clemish had been in and out all day fixing it and so she had her door closed. Sweat dripped and poured down her body as she practically clung to a small USB fan she had bought for her time at LifCo Industries and well, we all know how that went.
With every word she typed, she felt like she was just filling a page, no passion coming from her fingertips and something that was starting to feel like a force of habit than something she felt confident enough to bring to the public. She never had much confidence, to begin with when it came to the things that she wrote but, people would often tell her how amazing she was and how she should never give up on pursuing her passion. But, just because someone is good at something, does that make it their passion?
She sat back in her chair looking at what she wrote after a few moments and reading it over and over again, attempting to enjoy it, she couldn't. Everything felt the same. No surprises, no hidden meaning, no puzzle and that is what she liked. She liked it when things never seemed like what they were and people really had to pay attention to what was going on to get it. The metaphors, the symbolism, the subtle hints as to what was coming along the horizon. Not for the reading to be taken by the hand to some mundane fantasy...
But, was it that because that was what it was to her? Because she herself could see what was coming in the long run or could they actually see it too? Was this just writers anxiety? The doubt. There is always doubt. Doubt in the ability to write, to thrive, to give those what they are reading, invested what they want. Mila had set a pace, a reputation. She couldn't let that falter. over the years, everything had changed so much. Children's books, teenage angst, vampires, depraved activities of the demented, tortured.
The first time she released a book about Chloe and Chapel she received such horrible hate mail from parents who blindly bought their children books that were clearly in a more adult section of their local Barnes and Noble but, because it had Mila Rader's name on it, surely it was a kids book. At one point being called the 'Miley Cyrus of literature.' due to the dramatic change in style, she just got darker and darker. The blood orgy being one of the proudest 'let's piss off some parents' moments. She had a drive, a reason.
Then a knock at the door. "Coming she responded with a small amount of energy. There stood Mr. Clemish, out of breath and wiping his forehead with a handkerchief. He looked at Mila disappointed with her clothing choice or... lack thereof. She waved it off as if to say, 'What the hell else am I supposed to do when it this hot out?' "I think it's fixed, Mila." He said as she appeared frustrated. "You think?! What do you mean you think?!" He started to move away from her and she followed him to the air conditioner. He gestures to it.
"Sometimes it works, and sometimes it goes out." He says as he wipes his neck and forehead. "Uh, yeah. That's what the problem HAS been." She replies as she stands with her hands on her hips. "Well, not it goes out less." Mr. Clemish says as he begins packing up his toolbox. "No, no. You need to fix this or you can't expect full rent." Mr. Clemish stops packing and looks to Mila, who stands firm. "I tell you what, you go buy yourself a new one. You bring me the receipt and then I will take that from your rent."
Mr. Clemish says as he returns back to packing up his materials. "But, it's your job as the landlord to see to it that this stuff is fixed or replaced!" Mr. Clemish finishes off a glass of lemonade and puts it in the sink of the kitchen. "This is true, very true, Mila. However, per your lease, I have thirty days to fix or replace things in this apartment that needs to be and this my dear is day one of you submitting a report. So, I have twenty-nine more days. If you can't wait then I suggest you go by your own new unit and I will deduct the rent."
She tries to argue with him but, he leaves the apartment much too quickly to get many words in and he would likely dismiss them anyway. Frustrated and overly hot at the situation, she grabs a glass mug and chucks it at the front door, it breaking as it hits into four big chunks and a few smaller ones. She places her forearm on the door, her forehead resting on that as she has a small breakdown for a few moments, smiling and laughing with frustration and a few tears shed.
She moves off from the door and starts picking up the pieces. Gathering them in her hand, she sits on the floor, her back to the door. She looks defeated. "Damn it." She says to herself in a sort of whisper. She feared to get cuts on her feet from the broken glass. There was always that one, little piece. She heard a ding on her cell phone in the other room. She got up quickly, placing the bits of glass in the waste bin and picking up her phone, an alert letting her know that her first RSW paycheck went through.
Before Anarchy
"I won my match at Pandemonium. I was a newbie in a situation that I should not have won. The match was filled with multiple foe's and with multiple stipulations and with each round, I focused on an enemy and I slaughtered them. Steve Murdock thrived on the pain that was dealt to him. Caleb Koresh was so focused on winning and demolishing that he could only focus on one person at a time and that Joe Beb was I guess... too worried about his penis? I am not really sure what was going on there.
All I know is I won myself a shot at a title and at my first event. I think that is a pretty big deal. Not a soul in that auditorium, including Tommy Onions thought I could win a battle against three large and severely deranged men. They had me already defeated in their own minds that they discounted me from the beginning. Before I even stepped foot in that ring, I was the girl that was pushed aside, ignored, and a pile of trash to those that have been sharing this ring for months, even years.
But, I proved to everyone that I am a force in this company. A force that will not stop under any circumstances. I can get it done, while these men target one another and forget about me, I can slip in and absolutely destroy any situation that is handed to me. I hope that Caleb and Joe enjoy each other's company, even more, going forward and I hope that Murdock is evaluated. I have after all written about guys like him, I can only see it all going downhill. I mean, I'm no doctor or anything but, I know my crazy.
As for Anarchy 50, I see my opponent is Dexter Payne. There's an original name right there. Then again, I used my own so I guess I shouldn't judge but, I am not going to lie, I am sort of on a high right now. I feel like nothing and no one can stand in my way of achieving success right now. This Payne thinks himself as more of a fighter than a wrestler and I guess I understand that and can relate to it. Though I have taken fighting techniques and applied them to wrestling and vice versa.
Can Payne say the same and or will he appear sloppy and incapable? I suppose only time will tell, right? I am the number one contender for the Anarchy Championship. What do you have? A temper? You saw what I was capable with when it came to Koresh and Murdock. Do not discount me as a solid challenge for you. I am not a joke. I am not someone who is to be dismissed, not heard, not seen. I am Mila Rader. Future Anarchy champion in Riot Star Wrestling and you will be defeated. Mila Mania continues!"
The camera fades to black. "Great, thank you!" The cameraman says as he walks off, and Rader's smile fades as she removes her black elbow pads and moves her head around as if to try and crack her neck. She hadn't slept well last night and the last thing she wanted to do today was to appear overly hype and perky for the camera a sort of promo was filmed but, this was the job and she needed that paycheck. Again. She moved down the hall and smiled for those she needed to smile to keep up a sort of bubbly appearance.
It was, after all, her shtick. The bubbly, fun girl who just enjoyed everything and now with a win against three big dudes and not only that but, is now a contender for a title, she had to be that girl and somewhat confident and not just giggly and bouncy girl. It was a lot to take on but, she knew that is what people wanted. Like if Taylor Swift was a wrestler and she gagged at the thought. Taylor Swift was like an ass zit to the music industry. A whore behind the scenes but acts shy, innocent and pure when a camera is on here.
And in her mind, Rader was the same. Though not as much of a whore, as she hadn't been with a man in years. She was always too busy. Writing, procrastinating, and now wrestling. Men would just get in the way of all of that and she wasn't quite ready to dive into that end of the pool yet. She rounded a corner to get to her locker room, which was more of a dressing room, though she wasn't paying much attention to her final destination, as she was stretching her arms.
She reached for the doorknob and felt something unfamiliar. She retracted her arm quickly and sort of shrieked at the unfamiliarity, her state of shock quickly transitioned to bewilderment as she removed the object from the door and looked to it. 'Who would put this here?' She wondered, holding up the white, sort of rounded object. 'A fan?' She opened her door and moved in as it closed behind her. The object still in her hand. She sighed, looking around the dimly lit and quiet room, free from the noises in the hallway. Mostly unnamed staff setting up for Anarchy.
Rader tossed the white object onto a sort of vanity. A round mirror with big lights surrounding it and in the light we could see the white, round object was a baby doll mask. Like the one that her character Ruby Walsh had worn in her book series 'Slaughter'. There were a few variations though, as the lips were a bit smaller and the cracks were less. Hand made for sure so, it was still impressive. She has a trunk filled with things like these at home. Though she found it odd a fan would slip in and leave this hanging from her door.
July 15, 2049
A knocking sound is heard and a door opening is seen, the sun shines brightly as a red-haired, fair colored skin female smiles. "Hello, Addison Rader?" She asks, politely. "Montgomery." A female voice corrects, as the red-haired female nods, keeping her smile. "I'm sorry?" The red-haired female response, appearing confused. "It's Montgomery now. I was married but, yes that was my name. I assume you are Alison?" Addison wonders. Alison nods, keeping her smile. "That I am." Addison must have stepped to the side, inviting Alison in as she moves inside, we do not see Addison's face.
Moments later, we see Alison sitting down in a comfy looking room, she is settling in as we see the assumed arms of Addison set down a tray of tea with classic looking teacups, she offers Alison on and Alison smiles and takes it. We hear Addison sit down across from Alison, who we keep our focus on. We listen as Addison stirs her tea. Quiet has fallen the two women as Alison pulls a recorder from her bag. She places it on the table between the two of them. "Isn't that a bit old fashioned?"
Addison wonders as she sips her tea. "I like the old fashioned way of doing things sometimes. And I don't want this conversation to be on my personal phone." Alison says as she takes out a small note pad and a pen and readies herself. She sits still, looking across to Addison and then feels the need to sip her tea a bit. She was eager to get down to business but, also realized, due to mistakes in her past, that she needed to be more friendly with those she met. Business always and always business. So, she sipped her tea and forced a smile, as she was never much for the stuff.
"You prefer coffee." Addison said in a matter-of-fact sort of way. Alison shook her head and waved her off slightly. "No, this is fine. I promise." She assured Addison. There was no response. "So, here we are. You have me. After six months of trying to get me to sit down with you. To talk about my sister. What will your first question be, Alison?" Addison wondered. Alison was a bit thrown by this, which was so far not what she had pictured nor imagined in her head what would happen when meeting Addison Rader, now known as Addison Montgomery.
"Well?" Addison wondered. "Sorry. I wasn't prepared for that." Alison said as she nervously laughed to herself. "Alison." Addison began, she sounded a bit sweeter now. Sincere. "I want to apologize to you. I feel I have not been welcoming enough and I don't want this to feel awkward. I want you to feel comfortable asking me whatever you wish. But, I need to tell you that I have been dealing with this sort of thing since Mila died three years ago and I have grown tired."
And you could see this and hear this Addisons face and voice. Alison quickly went from an eager twenty-something to a concerned forty-year-old in her demeanor. She didn't want Addison Montgomery to hate and dread every moment of this interview. She wanted her to be comfortable and giving. She wanted her to feel warmth and kindness. Generosity like she hadn't in years. She watched as Addison sipped her tea, her hands shaking slightly as she began to remember what it was like to lose her sister at fifty years old. What it was like for her family. A broken family.
Coming back to reality, she looked to Alison. "So, where do we begin?" Addison said, her voice was soft and sincere. Scared to take the jump back into the waters but, ready to face it all again. "Well, let's start a bit easy. Can you tell me what Mila was like when you were children?" Alison questioned with some hesitation. A smile began to form on the face of Addison. She was remembering it like it was yesterday. "She was strong, confident, and took care of us. Milo, myself. Our mother. Father was mostly always gone working. A busy man indeed."
Addison smiled warmly, though it was obscured a little with not so great memories. "I remember once our father and mother had this terrible fight on Christmas Eve. About finances, of course. Something so many married couples fight about. It was miserable. Woke up to them screaming at the top of their lungs at ten-thirty in the evening. We were young Milo and I so, we were told to go to bed early and Mila was always sort of a rebel so, she would stay up most of the night. And when she was younger, she would try and catch Santa Claus."
Addison chuckled to herself a little as she sipped her tea. "Anyway, Milo was crying and I myself was more silently so, trying to be strong for him and Addison sneaks in with cookies and milk and she read to us. At the time Milo and I shared a room so, she didn't have to travel too far. Though it was close to father and mother so, when they got louder, she took us into her room and we stayed there often. But, she always found a way to sneak us back to our rooms without father and mother realizing."
Addison stayed in this wonderful yet, chaotic group of memories for a few minutes. It was an odd sort of happy to have Mila as a savior but, sorry that she had to be in the first place sort of moment. She came back and looked at Alison. "Our family was mostly happy. About seventy percent of the time. We used to joke with Milo when we got older that if it weren't for him and being a boy, he wouldn't have cost our family as much financially. Which of course, was not true. I was without a doubt the most spoiled of the household."
The first mutual and genuine laugh shared between Addison and Alison.
"Another?" A gruff and deep voice wondered from the other side of the bar. Mila was too in her head to hear him though. "Ma'am?" He questioned as she blinked a few times coming back to reality. "Uh... sure." She said as she slammed the rest of the booze down her throat that was left. She slid the glass back to him and got up to use the restroom. He went to pour her another as she went in. The bathroom was not the cleanest and the lights flickered occasionally. But, what could one expect here?
She sighed and went to the mirror. She studied her face a little, as the light flickered above her. She looked up to it a little annoyed and then turned the faucet on. She wetted her hands underneath and splashed her face. And then washed her hands. She took her time, washing under her nails even. She washed it all away and went to grab some papered towel from a dispenser. She used it on her hands and then her face. Turning off the water, she moved for the door. "So, what's next?" A familiar female voice asked, which stopped Mila in her tracks.
She turned to see no one. Wincing with confusion a bit, she went to dismiss it. "So, you're just going to leave without a response?" The voice wondered as Mila stopped herself from leaving again. "I know you're just a voice in my head," Mila said out loud, knowing that it was indeed the truth. "Yeah, another voice in Mila's head. Better go write another book, yeah?" The voice wondered as Mila walked back into the bathroom, looking into each stall. Nothing closed and she was indeed the only one in there. "Fuck." Mila said out loud.
"Well, that would be a change of pace, now wouldn't it? Find yourself someone that you can physically connect with instead of trying to avoid every human interaction." Silence befalls the room."Oh, did I cut too deep, Mila?" The voice wonders, as she shakes her head and pushes through the door and back into the main bar area. She goes to the bar and grabs the drink that was poured and slams it down. She places thirty bucks on the bar and leaves out the door. The bartender looks confused as he watches her leave, none of the other patrons minding her at all.
Outside it's raining on this otherwise overly warm July day. She finds herself walking at a brisk pace but, overall not minding the rain. her thoughts swirling in her head. She was tired of all the voices she carried in her noggin and each one wanting something different. Sometimes it was almost more of a need, an impulse than anything else and it made her want to do things out of her character things that she couldn't even fathom and yet there they somehow were. Each new unlikely thought became a character, an identity.
She entered her apartment, closing and locking the door behind her. Taking a deep breath in, she closes her eyes and lets it out as she begins to remove her clothing. "Surprised you're taking it off. You like the weight of the rain on your body. You always have. Remember that time you ran away from home and you regretted not checking the forecast before doing so because all it did was rain? Then you broke down and laid in that field of flowers, as it rained down on you?" The voice was back but, less biting this time.
It was a different one. It was a little sweeter. More innocent. Mila sat down on her couch in her bra and shorts, she ran her fingers through her hair, as she laid down. She wasn't interested in responding. "You feel it now, yeah? Not going to answer me because that would be insane right? And surely no sane person talks to themselves." The voice carried on and yet Mila said nothing. "Let me tell you something Mila, everyone talks to themselves. And if they tell you they don't, they're not aware of it. Even if they don't talk out loud, that voice is there."
The voice sounds a little more irritated now. "I am not insane." Mila finally says out loud, as the voice becomes intrigued. "Of course not, Mila." She responds. "Remember when you killed me in your dream the other night and you woke up and had a relatively normal day?" The voice wondered. Mila said nothing as she laid with her arm over her eyes. "You can't kill your mind off Mila. It doesn't work that way. We are here for you." The voice reassured her. "Oh, would you shut the hell up?!" Mila asked, showing more frustration this time.
"You all can be here and that is fine! You can be anywhere you want but, when I start to here you in a public location, where I should not then we have a problem! I could hear her in that bathroom! Not just in my head. In that bathroom and that, that right there does not work!" Mila was up and gesturing now to no one in particular. She looked in no certain direction, as she leaned back and she positioned her head, as if looking up but, her eyes were closed. "Just leave me be."
Two Days Later
Mila sits in a chair in front of her computer typing away, her back had been hurting her lately and somehow found harder chairs to be a bit more comfortable so, she had done away with her usual desk chair and swapped it for a wooden one from the kitchen. She sat in her underwear as the air conditioning had gone out and Mr. Clemish had been in and out all day fixing it and so she had her door closed. Sweat dripped and poured down her body as she practically clung to a small USB fan she had bought for her time at LifCo Industries and well, we all know how that went.
With every word she typed, she felt like she was just filling a page, no passion coming from her fingertips and something that was starting to feel like a force of habit than something she felt confident enough to bring to the public. She never had much confidence, to begin with when it came to the things that she wrote but, people would often tell her how amazing she was and how she should never give up on pursuing her passion. But, just because someone is good at something, does that make it their passion?
She sat back in her chair looking at what she wrote after a few moments and reading it over and over again, attempting to enjoy it, she couldn't. Everything felt the same. No surprises, no hidden meaning, no puzzle and that is what she liked. She liked it when things never seemed like what they were and people really had to pay attention to what was going on to get it. The metaphors, the symbolism, the subtle hints as to what was coming along the horizon. Not for the reading to be taken by the hand to some mundane fantasy...
But, was it that because that was what it was to her? Because she herself could see what was coming in the long run or could they actually see it too? Was this just writers anxiety? The doubt. There is always doubt. Doubt in the ability to write, to thrive, to give those what they are reading, invested what they want. Mila had set a pace, a reputation. She couldn't let that falter. over the years, everything had changed so much. Children's books, teenage angst, vampires, depraved activities of the demented, tortured.
The first time she released a book about Chloe and Chapel she received such horrible hate mail from parents who blindly bought their children books that were clearly in a more adult section of their local Barnes and Noble but, because it had Mila Rader's name on it, surely it was a kids book. At one point being called the 'Miley Cyrus of literature.' due to the dramatic change in style, she just got darker and darker. The blood orgy being one of the proudest 'let's piss off some parents' moments. She had a drive, a reason.
Then a knock at the door. "Coming she responded with a small amount of energy. There stood Mr. Clemish, out of breath and wiping his forehead with a handkerchief. He looked at Mila disappointed with her clothing choice or... lack thereof. She waved it off as if to say, 'What the hell else am I supposed to do when it this hot out?' "I think it's fixed, Mila." He said as she appeared frustrated. "You think?! What do you mean you think?!" He started to move away from her and she followed him to the air conditioner. He gestures to it.
"Sometimes it works, and sometimes it goes out." He says as he wipes his neck and forehead. "Uh, yeah. That's what the problem HAS been." She replies as she stands with her hands on her hips. "Well, not it goes out less." Mr. Clemish says as he begins packing up his toolbox. "No, no. You need to fix this or you can't expect full rent." Mr. Clemish stops packing and looks to Mila, who stands firm. "I tell you what, you go buy yourself a new one. You bring me the receipt and then I will take that from your rent."
Mr. Clemish says as he returns back to packing up his materials. "But, it's your job as the landlord to see to it that this stuff is fixed or replaced!" Mr. Clemish finishes off a glass of lemonade and puts it in the sink of the kitchen. "This is true, very true, Mila. However, per your lease, I have thirty days to fix or replace things in this apartment that needs to be and this my dear is day one of you submitting a report. So, I have twenty-nine more days. If you can't wait then I suggest you go by your own new unit and I will deduct the rent."
She tries to argue with him but, he leaves the apartment much too quickly to get many words in and he would likely dismiss them anyway. Frustrated and overly hot at the situation, she grabs a glass mug and chucks it at the front door, it breaking as it hits into four big chunks and a few smaller ones. She places her forearm on the door, her forehead resting on that as she has a small breakdown for a few moments, smiling and laughing with frustration and a few tears shed.
She moves off from the door and starts picking up the pieces. Gathering them in her hand, she sits on the floor, her back to the door. She looks defeated. "Damn it." She says to herself in a sort of whisper. She feared to get cuts on her feet from the broken glass. There was always that one, little piece. She heard a ding on her cell phone in the other room. She got up quickly, placing the bits of glass in the waste bin and picking up her phone, an alert letting her know that her first RSW paycheck went through.
Before Anarchy
"I won my match at Pandemonium. I was a newbie in a situation that I should not have won. The match was filled with multiple foe's and with multiple stipulations and with each round, I focused on an enemy and I slaughtered them. Steve Murdock thrived on the pain that was dealt to him. Caleb Koresh was so focused on winning and demolishing that he could only focus on one person at a time and that Joe Beb was I guess... too worried about his penis? I am not really sure what was going on there.
All I know is I won myself a shot at a title and at my first event. I think that is a pretty big deal. Not a soul in that auditorium, including Tommy Onions thought I could win a battle against three large and severely deranged men. They had me already defeated in their own minds that they discounted me from the beginning. Before I even stepped foot in that ring, I was the girl that was pushed aside, ignored, and a pile of trash to those that have been sharing this ring for months, even years.
But, I proved to everyone that I am a force in this company. A force that will not stop under any circumstances. I can get it done, while these men target one another and forget about me, I can slip in and absolutely destroy any situation that is handed to me. I hope that Caleb and Joe enjoy each other's company, even more, going forward and I hope that Murdock is evaluated. I have after all written about guys like him, I can only see it all going downhill. I mean, I'm no doctor or anything but, I know my crazy.
As for Anarchy 50, I see my opponent is Dexter Payne. There's an original name right there. Then again, I used my own so I guess I shouldn't judge but, I am not going to lie, I am sort of on a high right now. I feel like nothing and no one can stand in my way of achieving success right now. This Payne thinks himself as more of a fighter than a wrestler and I guess I understand that and can relate to it. Though I have taken fighting techniques and applied them to wrestling and vice versa.
Can Payne say the same and or will he appear sloppy and incapable? I suppose only time will tell, right? I am the number one contender for the Anarchy Championship. What do you have? A temper? You saw what I was capable with when it came to Koresh and Murdock. Do not discount me as a solid challenge for you. I am not a joke. I am not someone who is to be dismissed, not heard, not seen. I am Mila Rader. Future Anarchy champion in Riot Star Wrestling and you will be defeated. Mila Mania continues!"
The camera fades to black. "Great, thank you!" The cameraman says as he walks off, and Rader's smile fades as she removes her black elbow pads and moves her head around as if to try and crack her neck. She hadn't slept well last night and the last thing she wanted to do today was to appear overly hype and perky for the camera a sort of promo was filmed but, this was the job and she needed that paycheck. Again. She moved down the hall and smiled for those she needed to smile to keep up a sort of bubbly appearance.
It was, after all, her shtick. The bubbly, fun girl who just enjoyed everything and now with a win against three big dudes and not only that but, is now a contender for a title, she had to be that girl and somewhat confident and not just giggly and bouncy girl. It was a lot to take on but, she knew that is what people wanted. Like if Taylor Swift was a wrestler and she gagged at the thought. Taylor Swift was like an ass zit to the music industry. A whore behind the scenes but acts shy, innocent and pure when a camera is on here.
And in her mind, Rader was the same. Though not as much of a whore, as she hadn't been with a man in years. She was always too busy. Writing, procrastinating, and now wrestling. Men would just get in the way of all of that and she wasn't quite ready to dive into that end of the pool yet. She rounded a corner to get to her locker room, which was more of a dressing room, though she wasn't paying much attention to her final destination, as she was stretching her arms.
She reached for the doorknob and felt something unfamiliar. She retracted her arm quickly and sort of shrieked at the unfamiliarity, her state of shock quickly transitioned to bewilderment as she removed the object from the door and looked to it. 'Who would put this here?' She wondered, holding up the white, sort of rounded object. 'A fan?' She opened her door and moved in as it closed behind her. The object still in her hand. She sighed, looking around the dimly lit and quiet room, free from the noises in the hallway. Mostly unnamed staff setting up for Anarchy.
Rader tossed the white object onto a sort of vanity. A round mirror with big lights surrounding it and in the light we could see the white, round object was a baby doll mask. Like the one that her character Ruby Walsh had worn in her book series 'Slaughter'. There were a few variations though, as the lips were a bit smaller and the cracks were less. Hand made for sure so, it was still impressive. She has a trunk filled with things like these at home. Though she found it odd a fan would slip in and leave this hanging from her door.
July 15, 2049
A knocking sound is heard and a door opening is seen, the sun shines brightly as a red-haired, fair colored skin female smiles. "Hello, Addison Rader?" She asks, politely. "Montgomery." A female voice corrects, as the red-haired female nods, keeping her smile. "I'm sorry?" The red-haired female response, appearing confused. "It's Montgomery now. I was married but, yes that was my name. I assume you are Alison?" Addison wonders. Alison nods, keeping her smile. "That I am." Addison must have stepped to the side, inviting Alison in as she moves inside, we do not see Addison's face.
Moments later, we see Alison sitting down in a comfy looking room, she is settling in as we see the assumed arms of Addison set down a tray of tea with classic looking teacups, she offers Alison on and Alison smiles and takes it. We hear Addison sit down across from Alison, who we keep our focus on. We listen as Addison stirs her tea. Quiet has fallen the two women as Alison pulls a recorder from her bag. She places it on the table between the two of them. "Isn't that a bit old fashioned?"
Addison wonders as she sips her tea. "I like the old fashioned way of doing things sometimes. And I don't want this conversation to be on my personal phone." Alison says as she takes out a small note pad and a pen and readies herself. She sits still, looking across to Addison and then feels the need to sip her tea a bit. She was eager to get down to business but, also realized, due to mistakes in her past, that she needed to be more friendly with those she met. Business always and always business. So, she sipped her tea and forced a smile, as she was never much for the stuff.
"You prefer coffee." Addison said in a matter-of-fact sort of way. Alison shook her head and waved her off slightly. "No, this is fine. I promise." She assured Addison. There was no response. "So, here we are. You have me. After six months of trying to get me to sit down with you. To talk about my sister. What will your first question be, Alison?" Addison wondered. Alison was a bit thrown by this, which was so far not what she had pictured nor imagined in her head what would happen when meeting Addison Rader, now known as Addison Montgomery.
"Well?" Addison wondered. "Sorry. I wasn't prepared for that." Alison said as she nervously laughed to herself. "Alison." Addison began, she sounded a bit sweeter now. Sincere. "I want to apologize to you. I feel I have not been welcoming enough and I don't want this to feel awkward. I want you to feel comfortable asking me whatever you wish. But, I need to tell you that I have been dealing with this sort of thing since Mila died three years ago and I have grown tired."
And you could see this and hear this Addisons face and voice. Alison quickly went from an eager twenty-something to a concerned forty-year-old in her demeanor. She didn't want Addison Montgomery to hate and dread every moment of this interview. She wanted her to be comfortable and giving. She wanted her to feel warmth and kindness. Generosity like she hadn't in years. She watched as Addison sipped her tea, her hands shaking slightly as she began to remember what it was like to lose her sister at fifty years old. What it was like for her family. A broken family.
Coming back to reality, she looked to Alison. "So, where do we begin?" Addison said, her voice was soft and sincere. Scared to take the jump back into the waters but, ready to face it all again. "Well, let's start a bit easy. Can you tell me what Mila was like when you were children?" Alison questioned with some hesitation. A smile began to form on the face of Addison. She was remembering it like it was yesterday. "She was strong, confident, and took care of us. Milo, myself. Our mother. Father was mostly always gone working. A busy man indeed."
Addison smiled warmly, though it was obscured a little with not so great memories. "I remember once our father and mother had this terrible fight on Christmas Eve. About finances, of course. Something so many married couples fight about. It was miserable. Woke up to them screaming at the top of their lungs at ten-thirty in the evening. We were young Milo and I so, we were told to go to bed early and Mila was always sort of a rebel so, she would stay up most of the night. And when she was younger, she would try and catch Santa Claus."
Addison chuckled to herself a little as she sipped her tea. "Anyway, Milo was crying and I myself was more silently so, trying to be strong for him and Addison sneaks in with cookies and milk and she read to us. At the time Milo and I shared a room so, she didn't have to travel too far. Though it was close to father and mother so, when they got louder, she took us into her room and we stayed there often. But, she always found a way to sneak us back to our rooms without father and mother realizing."
Addison stayed in this wonderful yet, chaotic group of memories for a few minutes. It was an odd sort of happy to have Mila as a savior but, sorry that she had to be in the first place sort of moment. She came back and looked at Alison. "Our family was mostly happy. About seventy percent of the time. We used to joke with Milo when we got older that if it weren't for him and being a boy, he wouldn't have cost our family as much financially. Which of course, was not true. I was without a doubt the most spoiled of the household."
The first mutual and genuine laugh shared between Addison and Alison.
