Jacqui Monroe leant forward and studied the figure in the mirror in front of her. As had happened each time previously, she did not recognize the spiky-haired, leather-clad, heavily made-up figure in front of her, or identify with it in any way. And, as had also happened every other time, she mentally scolded herself:
“What were you thinking, Jacqueline?! This isn’t you! You’re not Lisbeth Salander, the bad-ass bisexual Swedish lawbreaker! You’re just Jacqui Monroe, a silly little trailer-trash fangirl from Podunk, Iowa!”
She wiped angrily at the right side of her face with her sleeve, trying to remove the caked-on white make-up, but managed only to smear her eyeliner, causing it to trail down her cheek. Groaning in frustration, she admitted defeat and began undressing, certain that a shower would not only wipe away the make-up, but also help clear her head.
Twenty minutes later, feeling considerably fresher and more energized, she once again looked into the mirror above the sink in her shower room. And this time, she liked what she saw. Staring back at her now was no longer the semi-nightmarish cyberpunk creation from before, but merely a shapely, muscular woman in her late 20’s, with big, clear blue eyes and short, raven-black dyed hair. This, she liked. This, she could live with. This person, she knew.
She grinned slightly, pulling on a faded denim-blue t-shirt and tight, stone-washed jeans. Now this was more like it. She reached for a tube of hair gel on the sink next to her and dabbed some into her fingertips, using it to fashion her hair into a spiky, natural wet look. Yup. This was definitely an improvement.
She smirked at the figure in the mirror again, then stepped out into her comfortable, inviting bedroom – perhaps the biggest indulgence in her otherwise spartan Upper West Side apartment, which she had furnished simply in an attempt to stay grounded and remind herself that she was not a big-shot. For the bedroom, however, she had splashed. The bed was king-size, as comfortable to sleep in on one’s own as to share with another warm body – although Jacqui could not think of many she would care to share it with. The large window overlooked a quiet park, a perfect backdrop for moments of introspection, and, to the left of the bed, a white door (now covered with heavy metal posters) led to a spacious walk-in closet. Wrestling and rock’n’roll memorabilia littered the furniture and walls, with the PWA Women’s Championship – which Jacqui had purchased from Claressa King in the dying days of the once-great company – holding a place of honour above the dresser. Throughout the room, other, smaller belts and trophies shared shelf space with the former blonde’s extensive collection of CD’s, DVD’s, and music and sports magazines. The overall effect was an odd blend between teenage rebellion and age-appropriate attempts at sophistication. But she liked it. And what the hell, this was her place, wasn’t it?
She sat on the bed, briefly agonizing over whether to wear her bright red Converse All-Stars, or the more subdued denim-blue ones. In the end, she opted for the latter, which perfectly matched her top. She slipped them on, laced them up, and was about to walk out when her smartphone (another indulgence, albeit a necessary one) vibrated and chimed with the ringtone indicating a new e-mail. Frowning, Jacqui retrieved it from her pocket, and quickly accessed the e-mail client – at which point her brow furrowed even deeper.
The incoming e-mail was from Raiden Blaze , someone she had once trusted, even liked, but was now looking forward to destroying in the upcoming ACW Pay-Per-View, Hunting Grounds . Seeing his name in her e-mail inbox made her rage flare up, and suddenly she remembered why she had felt the need to become Liz . She gave a split-second’s consideration to deleting the e-mail without even opening it, but decided against it. As screwed up as he was, Raiden was still more than a spam-bot. He was a human being, and one who had, at one point, even been something close to a friend to her. He deserved to be read. Whatever he said was highly unlikely to change her mind, but what the hell. The kid deserved it.
She swiped her finger over the touchscreen and opened the e-mail. And as she read on, her heart began to sink:
Dear Jacqui.
I know there is a more than big possibility that this very letter will end up thrown away, deleted from reality, just that you won't read it. But right now, I still consider you my only friend at the moment, even though you hate me right now. First of all, I'm terribly sorry for everything that happened. As crazy as it might sound, it WASN'T ME who kept attacking you, Jacqui. It wasn't me. That brings me to another thing.. You see, after everything that happened, I was really shocked. I really didn't know what was going on, I mean, the last thing I remembered before the infamous ending of.. our.. match was me and you buying a freaking soda! Therefore I was at the psychiatrist's. And I must tell you; the results aren't pleasing at all. Prepare for a shocker.. it looks like I'm suffering from schizophrenia. You sure do know what that means, but I'll tell you what they told me. They told me that my mind and my psyche was badly damaged by dad's death I've witnessed. That produced a lot of anger and evil in myself, but I was strong enough to stay calm.. well calm on the surface, at least. A new person was born in me, and according to them, according to hypnosis tests, it appeared several times during my life, but surprisingly, no one noticed. It's however interesting that when I'm in "the other dude mode", I, Raiden have ABSOLUTELY NO CONTROL of his behavior, nor do I remember anything. If you think I'm lying, ask Dr. James Connelly, the guy that's my psychiatrist. And, I don't know how, I don't know why, it just woke up during an ACW PPV and it grew strong, so strong it completely took over my body for like a month. They also found out that the possible reasons it kidnapped you had to do with something like that my personality, like, Raiden, me, wanted to protect you from it, but the thoughts just couldn't be executed the right way, because it collided with The Demon, as you guys called him. Therefore that's why everything between you and him happened. Notice that I didn't say 'between you and me'. I don't consider him myself. You know me pretty damn well, Jacqui. You know I'd never hurt you. In fact, and this is probably the worst way I could have said it, I had feelings for you. When there was nobody who trusted in me, you were there. You were my world, my everything. You helped me to stay sane, well at least you helped Raiden to stay sane. I'm a sensitive person, Jacqui. And I'm telling you this right here, I think you yourself always knew I loved you almost from the beginning. And don't lie to yourself; you had some sort of feelings for me too. You know it. With all of this being said, I hope you finally understand it really wasn't me who did all of this to you. I'd never hurt you in any possible way.
That's one thing. You may wonder why I didn't come personally to tell you all of this, and I have two reasons - you'd probably kick my ass, haha, and the second one, now on a more serious note.. The doctor said I can be 100% cured. Or maybe not 100%.. but 98% at least. However, to make that happen, I need to stay in the NYC asylum. We all know that it's the best for me. Tell J-Mac about everything, he'll understand, besides, you're good pals, arent'cha? Just joking. Nevertheless, this is practically all I needed to tell you. Hopefully, we'll see each other sometimes soon, either if I get cured soon and return to ACW, or if you decide to visit me one day, which you probably won't.. and I understand it. No worries. You're still my best friend and the girl I will always love.
Take care, win a world title and keep kicking asses like you always did.
With love and best wishes,
Raiden
As she finished reading, Jacqui was surprised to feel her throat clenching, and tears filling up her eyes. For a moment, the world went out of focus, as she scrambled for her shades. Then, as she put them on to conceal her emotional state, one thought rose above the jumble of emotions and feelings clogging up her brain:
“I forgive you, kid. I forgive you.”
(Special thanks to Derrick/Ryuzaki for Raiden’s e-mail.)
