Meltdown XXXIII & Fallout 033 || Promo Thread

[Nostradamus]

~TELL HIM TO BE QUIET~
~HE'LL LISTEN TO YOU~
~HOVER OVER HIS IMAGE~

Xtacee: “GET OUT OF MY FUCKING HEAD!”​

Xperienx Xtacee launches his cane across his locker room and into the mirror, causing it to crack in an outward circular pattern from the point of impact, and making a plethora of makeup items fall over and tumble off the attached desk. Xtacee’s locker room is an absolute mess and looks unrecognizable from the pristine condition it’s normally in. The light fixture on the ceiling hangs by one connection and blinks erratically. Xtacee is disheveled, wearing nothing but grey sweatpants, and is covered in a thick layer of sweat.​

What is going on with you, Xtacee? Is the pressure insurmountable? Are your failures and friendships testing your resolve? When are you going to realize that the man in the mirror is trying to help you, not hurt you?​

Xtacee: “SHUT THE HELL UP!”​

Xtacee stomps over to the makeup desk and slams his hands down on it, jostling the attached mirror and making a few shards of glass fall out. Xtacee looks at his shattered reflection in the mirror… despite the intensity of your mind, don’t you look beautiful? Your hair straight down to your shoulders, your eyes bloodshot and filled with confusion, and your lips quivering every time you speak… well actually maybe silence is a better option, don’t you think?​

Xtacee aggressively points at his reflection and stares into its eyes as he confronts it.​

Xtacee: “No, no, you aren’t real, you aren’t me anymore, I don’t need you! Monica and Antonio helped me get rid of you! Medicate you! You aren’t real!”​

Xtacee wails out before dropping to his knees sobbing. Xtacee repositions himself to sit in the fetal position, cradling his head between his knees and arms. Xtacee, where has all of that gotten you? Your reflection is looking down at you crying. Jackson and Nate would be ashamed, wouldn’t they? Monica and Antonio might leave you. Your legions of fans, employees, and followers might all quit on you. Maybe the world of black and white is your solace. Maybe you need to get back in touch with what you’ve tried to silence for so long.​

Xtacee: “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO!”​

Xtacee is rocking back and forth screaming at the top of his lungs. But he needs to stop. Xtacee, you need to stop making so much noise. Everyone must experience silence sometimes. It can be a good thing; it can help you clear your mind and free yourself from yourself.​

Xtacee relaxes his body and looks at his hands, realizing that they have become bloody from the bits of broken mirror around him. He stands back up and looks at me in the reflection. I’m smiling back at him because he’s making the right choice… use your hands to make the right choice. Xtacee uses his palms to cover his face in his own blood as if painting himself red. That’s it, Xtacee, come into the world of black and white. Stop the flash, the glitz, the glam, and be silent.​

Xtacee: “Silent…”​

Xtacee frantically opens a drawer on the makeup desk and pulls out a large roll of electrical tape. He uses a shard of the mirror to cut a piece off and he holds it in front of his reflection in the shattered mirror. I’m smiling at him in the reflection, but he places the tape over my mouth. Good.​

My hand shaking, I pull a white eyeliner pencil out of the drawer of the makeup desk and write the word 'silence' on the black tape, but that doesn’t look right… so I write an 'x' over the '-ce'… and now it looks rig---​

There is a knocking on the locker room door of Xperienx Xtacee before it is opened and in comes Monica and Antonio, his loyal lovers.​

Monica: “Antonio, listen, I know that Nate is going to come around sooner rather than later. I’m not going to force anything, but there’s nothing wrong with a little push in the right direction, darling.”​

Antonio closes the door behind him.​

Antonio: “Let’s forget about your latest obsession for now and focus on what’s important. Making sure that X, and our new besties, are always well taken care of and prepared for trios action.”​

Monica: “At this point trios matches are underwhelming with how many people we’ve all had at once… Actually, X’s next match is only against one person.”​

Antonio: “Oh yeaaahhhh, that Chris Crowe character. He’s a toughy, isn’t he?”​

Monica: “Yeah, he’s undefeated since coming back. And has like a historical North American Championship reign. He’s definitely a mouth full.”​

Antonio: “Sounds like my kind of party! X, are you ready to talk strategy?”​

There is no response from Xperienx Xtacee whatsoever. Monica and Antonio both turn to look at Xtacee, clad in his usual outlandish attire that matches the flashy interior decoration of his perfectly put together locker room. He is blankly staring at his image in the mirror and tracing his finger around the reflection of his mouth.​

Monica: “X? Baby, are you ok?”​

Antonio: “Oh no, Monica, your bag, now!”​

Monica hops out of her seat and scrambles for her bag. She hurriedly searches through it and retrieves a white pill, while Antonio has gotten a glass of water, and they both rush over to Xtacee’s side.​

Antonio: “Honey, drink this, here, please. You’ll feel better again.”​

Monica places the pill in his mouth and Antonio helps Xtacee take a drink. He slowly falls to the floor and his lovers follow his downward motion. Monica cradles Xtacee’s head against her chest as tears roll down his cheeks while he silently sobs. Antonio brushes Xtacee’s hair and rubs his shoulder.​

Antonio: “He missed messed up the schedule again. This has been happening more and more each time they lose a match.”​

Monica: “It’s not their fault though. Things happen, we’re all still friends, right baby?”​

Xtacee shakily nods in agreement to Monica’s question.​

Monica: “See, he knows that too. That doubt in his head is not control. You’re not a failure and they aren’t failures. Bad days happen baby, you’ll be ok.”​

Antonio: “Hey, your match with Chris Crowe is the perfect way to tell that little thing in your head to screw off and leave us all alone. You got this, alright X? We’re right here with you and Jackson and Nate, your friends, will always support you too.”​

Xtacee slowly gets out of Monica’s comforting grasp and rises to his feet. He holds his hand out to Antonio and smiles. Antonio picks up Xtacee’s cane from the desk and places it in his hand. Monica happily shuffles to the locker room door and opens it up for Xperienx Xtacee.​

Monica: “After you, daddy.”​

Xtacee places a furry cloak around his shoulders and makes his way to the door.​

Xtacee: “Let’s go be loud, loves.”​

The three of them exit Xtacee’s locker room and close the door behind them.

~I'm still here~​

 

[Death Walker]

Breaking… through…

In darkness, the clang from the metal pieces on a set of boots can be heard as they walk over hard dirt. These footsteps are disturbingly upset as they take their regular stride… echoing and getting louder as they continue. But then… they finally stop…

“You know… for a bunch of men and women who claim that they don't fear Death Walker, they sure have a funny way of showing it. In a match with 5 other opponents and the only rule is to eliminate all your opponents whether by pin or submission, these fuckin’ miserable, pathetic- …they make the choice to attack you all together. Putting their OWN SUCCESS in jeopardy… with a united front to take down one individual? Very well… we’ll see how long this works in their favor. But in the meantime, My Lord, we're adding more names to our list… and we're going to devour their souls one by one. They may have taken you out of the race that night but we're not done with you, Katsu… Alyster Black… Chris Peacock… Jackson Fenix. These naysayers can remain in denial all they want but they WILL witness your growth in strength and power. Because whether they admit it or not, the real fact is… THEY ALL FEAR YOU… deep in their hearts and all the way to their core. We're coming for any and all remnants of their souls… to feast upon, to serve as a testament to the dark kingdom arriving. Sure, they may have cheated death a few times but this one… this Death hasn't given up and he will not stop until he gets what he is owed… one way or the muthafuckin’ other.”

Under dim lighting, a faint glow of The Dark Guardian stands off in the distance as another figure in a hooded cloak is positioned right in the center with its head held low.

This other figure is none other than The Death Walker… as to be expected from a close-up of glistening brown muscles, bandages around his torso and pale spikes peeking out from the hood. He lifts his head up and turns back to stare at his advisor…

“Death Walker… you know it's time. Let's stop with all the pleasantries… all the technicalities… and all the forgiving punishment. It's time to live as a soul collector, a nightmare to whomever plays with your name, A REMINDER OF WHO NOT TO FUCK WITH! They can win at these matches all they want but we… we will be playing on two of our terms. Fighting to win or… breaking them one… by… one.”

As Death Walker takes a deep inhale and looks up at the dark space above them, his mind travels back to another time that he can remember.


*********************************************************

Spoiler: Can't Be Broken by Lil Wayne

And within a blink of his eyes, he returns to a past memory. One where he is living as a young adult version of Darius Wright. He’s standing in an old dusty (and yes, dark but lit) locker room. He's looking down at his black and white kickboxing gear, appearing to be deep in thought when…

“Okay, son… we got this! You're gonna go out there and rip-”

The male voice trails off right as it had entered the mostly dark locker room with like 3 overhead lights keeping some visibility. Then it starts again…

“Hey Darius? What's wrong, man? You're getting ready to go do what you do best… and that's fight. Why the glum look… like somebody died?”

Darius Wright: “I- I don’t know… I feel like someone did. Like someone died or gonna die.”

???: “Well that doesn't necessarily have to be a bad thing as you're going out there to put your life on the line against your opponent. It's like I’ve always told you… when you get into any fight, it's about fighting to the very end. And you son, you don't go down so easily. I’ve trained a number of young men and I ain't never, EVER had someone as tough and impervious to pain like you. It's like… it's like ungodly, as if you weren't designed for this world. You fight with a lot of ferocious anger and a killer's instinct. I know that… that we talked very briefly about your upbringing but what I know is that you're hurting.”

Darius, with Death Walker in the head of this incredulous young man, looks over at his coach and still has so many questions swimming around his mind.

DW: “I know but coach, I-”

Coach: “BUT NOTHING! Okay? …You are the future in this and you are not going to pick at whether you can handle defeat or not. You are not going to question whether you can win or not. Because in the end Darius, YOU are exactly what this world has created you to be. And that is a monster, a merciless beast, a true freak of nature. And I want you to go out there with that same attitude, that same chip on your shoulder since you were brought into this world… and with FOCUS I want you to body that other kid. I want you to give him that old fashioned ass whoopin’ that I’ve told you about.”

Both men smirk and chuckle a bit at the outlandish remark, knowing that the words ring true.

Coach: “Now I want you to go out there with no feelings and no doubt. I want you… I want you just soulless, as cold as a dark winter's night. See because your opponent, he has a soul even if he acts like he doesn't. He has been through what you've been through. He hasn't overcome the hard challenges that Darius Wright has. You are not like him, you are not like anyone else. There is only one, Darius Wright and don't allow anyone to take that from you! You prove this world wrong and continue to tear away at its spirit. It doesn't matter if you're 6 foot 1 or if you were 5 foot tall, you can beat anybody who steps to you and you know this! That monster that's inside of you must be released and now is the time. Show them what you got, alright? ALRIGHT?!??”

Darius shines a smile at his coach and gives him an affirmative response.

DW: “ALRIGHT, COACH!! Damn! I got you… and thank you. Thank you for… seeing more to me than just a bad kid. Thanks for providing me with the tools and outlets to unleash my rage. But most importantly… and I do fuckin’ mean this… thank you for letting me be comfortable with the monster I am.”

And within another blink of his eyes, Death Walker is brought back to the darkness with his Dark Guardian beside him.

The Dark Guardian: “We’re not done, Death Walker. I will never let you be done, not until our mission has been completed. So we will once again prove that you are a threat to humanity. You walk your own path in your own way. I mean honestly… I was highly impressed by your idea to bring out the toys in your match. And of course, the Terrors of Darkness were more than pleased to serve their Lord. But let's move on to the next phase because right now these… defeats are all simply a phase in our process.”

The Death Walker growls and nods his demon head then crosses his arms as he listens to what his advisor has planned.

TDG: “Another opportunity has presented itself and I know your patience has grown very thin on not winning the full benefits of these. However, it's better to receive these opportunities as a testament to your hard work and your believers rather than being ignored. One on one, you and the likes of one Jackson Fenix… You remember him, don't you, My Lord? One of the four who pinned you in the Steel Roulette at The 18th Anniversary Show.”

The Dark Traveler lets out a louder growl as his eyes widen with intensity.

TDG: “You made a clear example out of that insignificant fool, Reagan Cole and you’ll have even more fun with the other casualties to come. Jackson Fenix… it will now be your unfortunate demise as you are next in line to fall to Death’s tyranny. The people have given such a man… false hope in believing that he's championship material. First, with his FWA World Championship opportunity proving he wasn't and then it will be the same… with this new FWA North American Championship contender’s match. We’ve seen such buffoonery once before and as we all know, it doesn't get you far in life. We can see the friends of Fenix, starting to have concerns as he pretends to be of sound mind. I mean… it's not like you need them anyway. You’d really have a better shot at trudging along through the treacherous waters. And what is this that I saw? Oh yes, I got a glimpse of this turmoil as he had to face his own gruesome demon. However the difference here is that THIS DEMON, he doesn't fade away… he doesn't give encouraging words or pats on the backs… he lives to dish out pure misery when you encounter him. So Jackson Fenix, you can bounce around the wrestling ring with all of your goofy antics and using every kick known to man. But we both know that you don't have a good leg to stand on… or at least after this match with Death, you won't. So I offer you something from myself as well as Death Walker… allow us to bring you over to the dark side. Stop lying to yourself and others, we all know you're too weak to overcome its evilness. That other side of you is your only hope at becoming anything great. And Death… is willing to break you into pieces to either reassemble your soul or take it as part of his collection.”

Death clinches at his all the medical tape that was protecting his wounds from their previous battle at The 18th Anniversary and he snatches them off while staring psychotically into the view. He growls louder than before and then he pounds away the wounds with a heavy fist. The image zooms in on his crazed look right until it fades out…

and all that can be heard is the sound of repeated punches to his abdomen as a maddening and monstrous laugh echoes out in the empty space.

Spoiler: Can't Be Broken by Lil Wayne

What has the world unleashed?

What will be the ending to their match at Meltdown?








The Death Walker is determined…​

 

[The Golden One]

Sitting inside of a toll booth that looks to be on a desolate planet – or maybe not a planet but something else – is our trusty mustached narrator with the long western drawl and tobacco chew filling his mouth. He’s sitting in a toll booth because … ? Maybe he will explain? But he’s wearing his western cowboy hat and has his feet propped up on the counter in front of him. It’s a small toll booth, and it’s unclear whether the barrier that lifts to allow vehicles or spacecraft to pass even works. It’s sitting in a raised position, and the lever that our nameless narrator would pull is pretty worn down.

Oh, and this is also important. In the background of the toll booth is none other than the Magic School Bus, parked on what appears to be blue – yes, blue – dirt, which seems to cover every inch of this planet. Maybe our narrator will give us more information.

“Howdy, y’all. Well, we’re on the moon. Yes, we’re on the actual dang moon. No, it ain’t no metaphor. Yes, this is one of them space operas again. Yes, they’re on the dang moon, like I said

Who is ‘they’? Well, it’s the Menage, that wacky little group of misfits led by ‘ole XYZ. Who else would visit the dang moon? The moon is an oft-visited location for them, and …

Wait, wait. There was no clarification about which moon, was there? Well, shoot. I missed the barrel of whiskey on that one. Earth has one moon, so maybe saying ‘the’ moon was misleading for y’all critters. Let’s rephrase this to ‘a’ moon. They’re on a moon. It’s one of Saturn’s moons, to be specific.

Saturn has 146 confirmed moons orbiting the planet. One hundred and forty-six. Wild stuff, huh? This doesn’t include the thousands of moonlets within Saturn’s rings. Saturn has the most moons of any planet in the Milky Way galaxy. Did you know that? Well, if ya’ didn’t, then call me Miss Frizzle.

Anyways, yes, the Menage are on one of Saturn’s moons. They visit this specific moon because it is blue. Blue? No, really, it is blue. The dirt on the ground is blue. The 100-foot mountains that canvas the otherwise-flat surface are covered in blue dirt and rocks. There’s even blue sand, which is different from the blue dirt. I’m tellin’ ya’ straight.

Whenever the Menage visit the planet, they get blue all over their skin and clothes. Filthy. It doesn’t stink but it’s damn all over. Then they return to the Magic School Bus and sing “I’m Blue” by Eiffel 65. I used to like that song. Now I hate it. Frank is the one who sings the opening lyrics. They go:
‘Yo, listen up here's a story
About a little guy
That lives in a blue world
And all day and all night
And everything he sees is just blue
Like him inside and outside
Blue his house
With a blue little window
And a blue corvette
And everything is blue for him
And himself and everybody around
Cause he ain't got nobody to listen to’

Then everyone else – except for PacMan Bert, who rarely ever speaks – sings the chorus:
‘I'm blue
Da ba dee da ba di
Da ba dee… ah, you get the gist.’

Well, they sing it because they have blue on their skin and clothes. They are blue. Understand, yeah?

Anyways, on this specific trip to the blue moon – let’s call it that for efficiency because the moon’s actual name is pretty unmemorable, kinda’ like Xavien Marshall’s high school football career – everyone is focused on two things happenin’ in the orbit of the Menage

First, it’s Wild Jerry’s first singles match of his FWA career. He has been in a couple of trios-focused matches, but he has not wrestled yet on his own. It’s like when my daddy sent me off to cut my first lawn. It’s a big moment for a pup! Wild Jerry has specifically mentioned his motivations to test the waters of wrestling and see if this could be a future for himself. He will face a debuting Xavien Marshall on Fallout.

Second, everyone in the Menage is giving XYZ his space. ‘Ole X lost his X Championship match against Tommy Bedman at the 18th Anniversary Show – a hard-fought and aggressive match that was another close-but-no-cigar moment for the caped superhero – and has been eerily quiet and to himself ever since.

So, while XYZ mopes and mopes inside of the Magic School Bus and recounts for the 900th time the events of his title match loss to possibly right a wrong for the future, the rest of the group is standing on the blue soil of the blue planet and looking up at the majestic sight of Saturn and its dense, icy, and rocky rings.

Why are they standing on the planet and not doing literally anything else? Well, they’re practicing. Wait, not ‘they’ but rather Wild Jerry. He is practicing, and everyone else is giving him pointers.

‘Practicing what?’ you’re probably wondering. And that’s where I leave y’all. See ya’ on the flip. I gotta get to work and make sure any spacecraft comin’ through pays up.”

The perspective shifts from looking at the narrator with his feet kicked up inside of the toll booth to the Menage standing around on the blue moon with Wild Jerry in the middle. Everyone except for Wild Jerry – and PacMan Bert – is talking, though.

“What you have to do is …” Christian Howard says.

“Put his head in a lock like this and …” Frank interjects.

“Use your speed and kicks – those soccer kicks – to …” Sierra coaches.

“You shouldn’t listen to any of them,” Lizzy Golden, who is now 9 years old and aging a year with each month, says in a defeated tone.

Wild Jerry closes his eyes, obviously frustrated by the commotion and the general discourse happening in front of him.

“Y’all. Y’all. Idiooootas! Shut it!”

Everyone stops, with Frank trying to say that they were “trying to help.” Wild Jerry interjects a second time, though.

“I geeeet it, yo. I get it. You all are tryyyyying to help. One prooooblem, yo! I need help with the pre-taped promo thiiiingy, not the actual wreeeestlin. Who can help with that, aye?”

The four who were so vocal beforehand are now eerily silent.

“Well, I think X would be the one to help with that, but I don’t know if now’s the time.”

“No, now ain’t the time. The boy is sufferin’. Let him fight through his stuff in silence. My troubles ain’t his troubles today.”

“What if we did a skit?”

“A skit?”

“Like a play?” asks Lizzy Golden, who perks up and shows for the first time her interest in the arts.

“Kind of,” answers her mom, Sierra. “We’ll do a skit. You just have to stand there and be pretty. You’ll know what to say when the time is right.”

Sierra smiles as Frank and Christian Howard each look inquisitively at her. But she has a plan, a wry smirk hinting at so.

A few minutes later, everyone in the group is covered in the blue soil. Like, head-to-toe covered. They even put blue soil all over PacMan Bert, who didn't comply or resist. He probably isn't even part of the skit!

“What the hell, gringos? Y’all gone loco on me with this.”

“No, no. You’ll get it as we get going. We’re all supposed to be cops. That’s why we are blue.”

Frank’s explanation is correct, albeit also laughable. It’s so laughable that Wild Jerry begins laughing.

“This is the best we could do. We don’t have a Party City on any of Saturn’s moons to get a cop Halloween costume. Soooo … we’re just covered in blue and you have to assume we are cops. Well, not you. You just sit there and look pretty. You’re gonna play the role of Xavien Mitchell.”

“Marshall.”

“What?” Frank asks.

“His name is Xavien Marshall," Sierra responds.

“I think it’s Xavien Mitchell.”

“It’s not,” Sierra says emphatically and in a way only she could do.

“I thought it was Xavien Martin,” Christian Howard pipes in.

“No, no, you are Officer Martin. The guy’s name – the person Wild Jerry is facing on Fallout – is Xavien Marshall. Marshall. Marshall. Not Mitchell. Not Martin.”

“I thought it was Xavien Moon,” Lizzy pipes in, although she’s smirking, indicative that she didn’t really think this.

“No, we are on a moon,” Frank replies, frustrated.

“Ooooooooooooooooooooooh.”

Sierra looks over to her and cannot help but chuckle, then give a shoulder nudge before a "shhh" hand gesture. Frank looks around.

“Alright. Let’s begin.”

“Wait,” says Christian, “who is Officer Mitchell?”

“There is no Officer Mitchell!” Frank replies. “You’re Officer Martin. Martin. Martin. I am Officer James.”

“Who are we?” Lizzy asks, pointing to herself and Sierra.

“No one.”

“Why aren’t we allowed to be anyone? We’re better actors than you two. Plus, we got all this blue dirt on us.”

Sierra steps forward after saying this and crosses her arms over her chest.

“I didn’t tell you two to do that. This is just the way it is. Let’s move on.”

“Typical men. Liz, remember this. Men are trash.”

Frank isn't fazed by the slight from Sierra. He pretends to grab a phone and hold it to his ear.

“We’re inside of the Ohio Department of Corrections. I’m calling … OFFICER MARTIN,” he says, looking at Christian Howard with the emphasis.

“Oh. Me.”

Christian Howard pretends to pick up a phone.

“Hi. It’s me. Officer Marshall.”

Sierra and Lizzy roll their eyes and groan at the same time.

"Oh my God."

“What?”

Frank whispers, trying not to pile on, “Your name is Officer Martin.”

“You sure?”

“Yes!” everyone says in unison, even PacMan Bert, who never looked up from his handheld game of PacMan.

“Alright, alright. Jesus,” Christian says. He then clears his throat unnecessarily.

“Hi. It’s me. Officer Martin.”

“This is Officer James with the Ohio Department of Corrections. I have an inmate. His name is Xavien Marshall. He’s going on parole. He needs work. Can you help him?”

“Xavien Marshall. Wasn’t he that former high school football player with the forgettable football career that I only remember because I have a great memory of failed high school football players?”

“Yes. That’s him.”

“Hmmm. I have an idea for him! I think he will become a professional wrestler. That will be his job.”

“A professional wrestler? I wonder how being a failed high school football player who then became a felon will translate into professional wrestling.”

“I think pretty well. People do it all the time.”

“Do they? There are a lot of former convicts and football players in professional wrestling."

“Yeah! Well, maybe. I don't really know. I mean, it can’t be that hard. Just a few flips and kicks and you’re good to go. Plus, he’s a convicted felon. So he’s got a violent streak. It fits!”

“Alright, I guess. How much will he make?"

"He will make ... um ..."

Christian looks over to Sierra and whispers, "How much does XYZ make?"

"I don't know if he makes any money."

"Hmmm. More evidence that this place is a dreamworld all in someone's head."

There's a pause as Frank's comment hits a heavy.

"Let's say he will make $35,000 a year."

"That's it. Is that even above poverty?" Sierra, an audience member watching this "skit", asks.

"I don't know. Do any of us know the poverty line?"

"Well, it's different for every city."

"Great. And $35,000 is an entry-level salary. He is entry level. He has no experience. He's also a former convict, so we can pay him less money."

"This is unfortunately true and says a lot about our society. Alright, off you go, Xavien Mitchell.”

“It’s Xavien Marshall,” Sierra interjects again.

“Xavien Marshall. Sorry.”

Then there’s silence.

“Am I supposed to say anything in this?” Wild Jerry asks.

Everyone in the group sort of forgot Wild Jerry was even there, supposedly playing the role of Xavien Marshall.

“I guess not.”

“Great. You idiotas just wasted my time. How is that supposed to be a skit against this Xavien Marshall guy? All you did was affirm why he should be a wrestler! Dios mio! My amigos are TONTO!”

“Sorry. We did our best,” Frank says.

“Yeah. We tried,” Christian says.

“I'll be honest. That was one of the worst things I’ve ever seen,” Sierra opines.

“It’s fine. It’s fine. We weren’t even taping it. I’ll just do some monologue about how soccer is better than American football and be done with it.”

“Oh, yeah. That’ll really get him good,” Frank says, rolling his eyes as he looks over at the rest of the Menage.

“Didn't ask you, gordo. Sierra. Lizzy. We’ll talk on the ride home while these two idiotas sing ‘I’m Blue’ for the 300th damn time. Let's head back. X is probably snapped out of his misery cycle for now.”

Wild Jerry, Sierra, and Lizzy all walk off first. Christian and Frank hang back for a brief moment.

"Hey, I was thinking just now. I think we should pay Xavien Monroe more than $35,000, the more I think about it. Maybe $38,000."

"I'm glad you are trying to fix this societal issue."

Christian Howard doesn't recognize the sarcasm and smiles, thinking he did something good and won some points with Frank. He even does a small fist pump when no one is looking.​

 

[Sully]

The Scissors and The Hair

As August fades, the days get a little shorter but not a bit cooler. Folks are still wiping the sweat off their brows as they mow their lawns or bring in the late summer corn. Still, the world is turning. The kids are back in school, football is back on TV, and the ladies are looking longingly at the hay bales and cornstalks in the Garden Center at the Wal-Mart. Autumn will be here before you know it.

There'll be decorations aplenty around the world soon enough. If the evil advertisers have their ill-gotten way, and let's be honest, judging from the number of ads everywhere you look online and now on streaming services, they will, there'll be a pumpkin on every porch post within a month. Everyone in the good ol' United States will be sitting in the porch swing and watching the leaves start to turn. Everyone will be gazing out at the fields that are preparing their winter wheat and close their eyes to take in the cool, crisp breeze of the evening as the sun sinks behind the treeline. But that's still a while away, and it's too damn hot to sit in the swing and dream about October.

And there's one person that's actively doing no such thing.

BOOM. CRASH. BOOM.

GOD, FUCKING DAMN IT!

The sounds of chairs being thrown and smashing against the inside of a locket room, the gruff and rough voice of Jack the Clipper echoes through the hallway from his locked locker room door, as his two associates, Barbara and Diana, the scissors sisters shift around awkwardly in the hallway both sharing a matching set of worried frown

Barbara/Diana (?)I think he's starting to calm down.

One scissor sister says to the other. Which one? There's actively no way to tell whatsoever. They've never clarified, so any attempts to give them names would be pure and utter guesswork.

Diana/Barbara (?) You said that, three days ago.

Barbara/Diana: Well, he hasn't punched anyone out today, so I guess one would assume that's a marked improvement

Diana/Barbara: If you say so...I just want it on the record, this shit would have never happened if we were out there to deal with such ruffians. I have to ask, what are we here for if not to assure Jack can spread as much misery as humanly possible?

Barbara/Diana: You heard the boss. Dealing with a failed boxer...and a rookie...He could handle that on his own, easily...so he didn't need us.

Diana/Barbara: He still didn't; they cheated. They disrespected The Clipper and stole his moment for him, and if that child thinks it's over, she has another thing coming. If anything, this is just going to piss off the Clipper all the more, so he's now fired up to deliver ten times the misery he was already going to punish this cursed company with.

Barbara/Diana: That is as may be, but he'll do no such thing if he refuses to leave the dressing room; after all, he has a tag team match to prepare for against Al Bizzard and Madison Gray.

The scissor sister that wasn't talking spits on the ground bitterly at the mere mention of the name Madison Gray

Diana/Barbara: Al Bizzard ain't a problem; he's too busy working on his own issues, but if The Clipper does what comes naturally to him and deals with the little gnat, she won't-

BAM-

The door of the locker room practically flies open as the massive frame of the eternally miserable Jack The Clipper stomps out of the locker room with a wild look in his eye as he looks from one scissor sister to the other.

Jack The Clipper: Do I got mug written on my forehead?

Barbara/Diana: Excuse me?

Jack The Clipper: Are ya going deaf?

Barbara/Diana: I don't think so...

Jack The Clipper: Was I whispering?

Barbara/Diana: Not particularly, no.

Jack The Clipper: So if I ain't whispering and you don't have any problems with ya hearing, it's reasonable to assume you heard what I said, so I'll ask one more time because you seem to enjoy playing silly buggers with me. Do I have mug written on my forehead?

Barbara/Diana: No.

Jack turns his wild eyes to the other scissor sister.

Jack The Clipper: What about you? Do I have mug written on my forehead?

Diana/Barbara: No.

Jack The Clipper: Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure I don't have mug written on my forehead in great big, bold letters? Take a good, bloody look to make sure.

Diana/Barbara: No. Not at all.

Jack The Clipper: Well, then I'm just a tad confused because if I don't got mug written on my forehead, then it really makes no sense for people to think I am a mug, does it?

Diana/Barbara: Not really, no.

Jack The Clipper: Well, that's bloody wonderful; so this raises a question that I need helping out with in that case because we're all in agreement I don't have mug written on my forehead, and people shouldn't be treating me like a mug. Then why do people think they can mug me off? That they can fuck Jack the Clipper around, take what belongs to him and get away with it. The only realistic conclusion I can come up with is that everyone believes I'm a mug, which makes me the smallest bit miffed, because, as previously established, I am not in fact, a mug, and it's getting to the point now where I have to do something pretty fucking 'orrible to stop people thinking that I'm a mug, and-

Jack pauses; he can't help but notice in all of his rantings that his two valets seem to be avoiding eye contact.

Jack The Clipper: What? What's the problem now?

Barbara/Diana: You tell him...

Jack The Clipper: Tell me what?

Diana/Barbara: ...It's your clippers...someone stole them.

Jack looks back and forth between both scissor sisters with an almost incredulous expression on her face.

Jack The Clipper: Well, see, now I'm really bloody confused because going back to my precious conversation regarding who is and who isn't a mug, if I wasn't a mug, then no one would dare do something that insane.

Who the hell would be stupid enough to steal my clippers?


Suddenly, the three are all surprised to find Kleio De Santos standing there.

Kleio De Santos: You have more important stuff to worry about.

Jack The Clipper turns angrily. He holds his fist up in the air, but before he can say anything, Kleio continues talking.

Kleio De Santos: Madison Gray and Al Blizzard. You and I are facing them next week...and if you want to win, then well...you've got to start thinking how.

Jack The Ripper: And bloody how the hell do you think we're going to do that?

Kleio De Santos: By knowing how to beat them. I already beat Al Blizzard once, but Madison Gray...there's more for me to learn. That's why...I need your help.

Jack raises his one eyebrow up in the air.

Kleio De Santos: I need your help, to get a lock of Madison Gray's hair. You're a barber right? Well, I just need you to...snip some off.

Jack The Clipper: SNIP! YES...yes I can snip. I love to snip.

Kleio smiles.

This was easier than she thought.

But suddenly Jack puts his finger up.

Jack The Clipper: Except...what's in it for me.

Kleio gets angry all of a sudden.

Kleio De Santos: What's in it for you? You win the match!

Jack The Clipper: I CANNOT THINK ABOUT A MATCH WHEN I AM MISSING MY FAVORITE SCISSORS!

Kleio has to think on her toes.

Kleio De Santos: Uh...Al Blizzard...he uh...he has some special magic scissors! They're like, legit. If we win, maybe we can steal them off him?

Now that has Jack's attention.

Jack The Clipper: Perfect yes...ok you have yourself a deal. I'll get the hair, you get the scissors.

KDS seems a bit taken back.

Kleio De Santos: Uh, what?

Jack The Clipper: The scissors. I don't want to wait till the match, I want them now. So you go steal the magic scissors, I'll go get the hair. We meet back here, sound good?

KDS' plan has already backfired, but here we are.

Kleio De Santos: Uh...sure. Fine.

And with that, the two shake on it.

​

The Scissors

Kleio finds herself roaming the streets trying to think of how she's going to come up with a magic pair of scissors. Perhaps making them up wasn't the best strategy, but what else was she to do?

She wondered how funny it would be if Al Blizzard actually did have a pair of magic scissors.

If he did, it didn't help him in the triple threat match at the Anniversary show. In fact nothing seemed to help Al in that match. Kleio De Santos was the clear winner at the Anniversary show, and if there was a clear number two it would've been El Vengador. It was Vengador who put up the biggest fight after all.

It was Vengador who Kleio was worried about. Now Kleio gets to face him again, after already proving she was better. The more she thought about the situation, the funnier it seemed to hear. She pondered why Blizzard himself was even booked in this match. Although, she had to partner with Jack The Clipper who lost to Madison Gray.

Madison Gray proved she was better than Jack.

Kleio De Santos proved she was better than Al Blizzard.

And now the both of them are at both a similar advantage and disadvantage over one another.

This scissor thing wasn't worth going all out with. Kleio reached into her bag, and grabbed a little pair of travel scissors that she carried with her.

Kleio De Santos: You'll do well enough. Honestly, it's perfectly believable that these feminine little scissors would belong to Al Blizzard. As dainty as they are, they fit Al just right.

Kleio sat down on a bench and held the scissors in her hand.

She had time to waste, as she couldn't very well just come back to Jack that fast.

As she sat, and watched the passers by, she began to close her eyes and think about Al Blizzard some more. She couldn't help but laugh at his lack of preparation going into that triple-threat match. Kleio tried therapy, a long time ago. No shrink could help her then, and they definitely couldn't help her win matches. Most would frown upon it.

If only Al knew what his true nightmare was. Not that Blackjack, or whatever he thought winning the TV title would do.

And no, Kleio wouldn't say it was herself either. Well, not specifically.

No there is one thing that Al Blizzard should be afraid of. Disappointment. The more he sets himself up for it, the more it's going to come. Al really walked into the Anniversary show thinking he was going to win, and when you do that, the loss hurts so much more. Now here we are, another show, another match Al thinks he'll win, and another loss. Two losses to Kleio in a row? That's something that'll lay heavy for awhile.

With each loss it gets heavier and heavier.

It's not a darkness overcoming you Al.

It's the sense that you're never going to be successful.

Not when you spend your entire time preparing for a match talking about your nightmares, and then allocating one small sliver to focus on the real threats.

Kleio wondered if Al even was aware that she was the obvious favorite to win? I mean it was someone with three years of experience vs a bunch of rookies, she was basically being setup for it. Yet the only thing that Al could say about her...was that he knew nothing about her! It made Kleio angry. She has been in the FWA for three damn years now, and Al can't find anything to say about her? He could've talked about King of the Deathmatch, he could've talked about her being the leader of The Coven, he could've talked about so many things.

But no. All Al could say was..."Spooky".

Was that all she was to people?

Spooky?

Kleio got up from the bench in anger, and started to say out loud.

Kleio De Santos: Spooky, I'll show him spooky. When I'm done with him, he's going to know a lot more than "fuck all" about me. He's going to know that I'm the girl who didn't just beat him once, but twice in a row. I'll show him exactly the right places to look, and because he's going to see the marks every time he looks in the mirror!

Kleio clutches the scissors in her hand, and storms back towards Jack The Clipper's.

The Hair

Meanwhile, Jack The Clipper was in his barber shop. All while Kleio had been out searching for those coveted magic scissors, Jack was had to get some girl's hair.

Jack wasn't concerned about it.

Jack The Clipper: That bloody gal thinks that getting Madison Gray's hair is going to help us? Please. I know hair, hair is my life, and I can tell you throwing it into some liquid and making juice out of it won't do us any good. But the bloke wants some hair, she'll get some hair.

Jack walks over to his waiting area, and picks out the first blonde girl he sees.

Jack The Clipper: You girl! You're up!

Another man gets a little upset at this.

Male Customer: Hey I was here first!

Jack The Clipper: GET THE HELL OUT!

The man, startled, does exactly that. The female customer is a bit confused, but reluctantly heads over to Jack's chair. Jack treats her with a smile as he shoves her in, and straps her down.

Jack The Clipper: Now, Madison...

Female Customer: Actually, it's Audrey.

Jack The Clipper: NO! It is Madison.

Audrey: No, it really isn't...it's...

Jack The Clipper grabs his biggest pair of scissors and holds them menacingly in front of his face.

Audrey gulps before changing her answer.

Madison: Madison...

Jack The Clipper: Good. Good...now Madison you have some special hair. Some really special hair. Must be special, since you beat me with it! Oh yes, you beat me.

Madison: I did?

Jack rubs his fingers slowly through "Madison's" hair.

Jack The Clipper: Oh yes. I had those blokes dead to rights! But of course, that idiot Taylor had to go and screw it all up. And then what happened? He got pinned by you Madison. You went out, and you STOLE my match from me. You stole my opportunity for a title shot. Now I'm forced to team up with the gal that I should be facing for the title. What sort of cruel twisted irony is that? Her and her little trainer Cindy Weststar or whatever her damn name is are probably over there thinking they're so special! It was probably her who stole my scissors...that wanker!

Jack takes a big snip of Madison's hair.

Snip snip snip.

Madison: Her or me?

Jack The Clipper: SHUT YA TRAP! You know it was you Madison. Now I gotta help Kleio...and why should I even do that? Ok, admittedly I'm new here, not only to this company but to this country, so maybe I'm not exactly sure howI'm meant to deal with this situation. Laugh or cry, laugh or cry...Is this shit, funny or horribly depressed? On the one hand, it's just horribly depressing, that this is what passes for champions in the world's biggest wrestling company, the type of place I've been spending my life trying to get to....but on the other hand, it's just funny. Truly funny, I see ya, wearing black, playin' Sabrina. Doing ya black magic bullshit, and you think that makes you dark, you think that makes you evil.

You ain't evil. You're playing at evil, but I can't really blame you. You ain't the problem you're just part of the problem. Just like Madison Grey, pretending to be something she ain't, pretending to be a badass...the difference between me and her? I don't have to pretend to be a villain.

Jack continues to cut away at Madison's hair, she doesn't even realize just how MUCH he is cutting.

Madison: ...are you talking about me still or Kleio? Or the real Madison?

Jack The Clipper: SHUT UP!

Madison: I'm sorry!

Jack The Clipper: There are 4 things that can make someone a villain. A wound. Blindness. Selfishness. And evil. A wound can make someone wish for vengeance. Retribution. But that is not evil. Pain is not evil. Blindness prevents someone from seeing the truth, and makes them follow the wrong path. Do what they do not know they've done. Trust liars. But belief is not evil.

Snip.

Snip.

Snip.

Jack The Clipper: Selfishness is greed, the desire to harm others for your gain. But desire is not evil. To receive pain and wish it back on others is to wish for everything to be fair. To be blind is to be susceptible to being misguided. To be selfish is instinct, and can be born out of self-interest, or out of love and desire for others' prosperity.

Snap.

Snap.

Jack The Clipper: But evil. Evil is to cause pain, to blind, to be selfish. Not for yourself or for another. Not for prosperity or joy or penance. Evil is to do harm without cause or reason.

Clip. Clip. Clip.

Jack The Clipper: Evil doesn't care about itself or anything else. It is just evil. A villain can be evil. But not all villains are evil. A villain is considered bad. Evil is neither good or bad. Because what is one's good, is another's bad. What is one's support is another's burden. One's dream, another's nightmare. Evil is not bound by these subjective beliefs. It is simply a truth of life."

and believe you me- in hell? Ol' Nick Scratch has a short back and side.

THERE!

ALL DONE!

Jack turns Madison around to face the mirror, and the poor girl is mortified. She looks like Brittney Spears circa 2007.

Madison lets out a blood curdling scream.

Madison: WHAT THE HELL! YOU CUT OF ALL MY HAIR!

The poor girl runs out of the barbership screaming as Jack chuckles to himself.

He picks up a small lock of her blonde hair.

Jack The Clipper: This should do.


​

Kleio sure enough storms back into the barbershop.

Jack had just finished sweeping up, and had a big smile on his face. Kleio was still angry, getting herself worked up over all the thoughts in her hand, while Jack was enjoying himself after the latest interaction.

Jack The Clipper: That was awfully fast! How the bloody hell did you get those scissors so fast?

KDS has no more patience.

Kleio De Santos: Magic.

Jack stares at her for a minute, before smiling.

Jack The Clipper: Ah right! I forgot, the whole witch thing. Perfect! Well give them here.

Kleio De Santos: Do you have the hair?

Jack The Clipper pulls out a small lock of blonde hair, belonging to the girl who's hair he just cut. The rest of it is in the garbae.

Kleo De Santos: That's Madison's hair?

Jack The Clipper: It sure is.

Kleio smiles and takes the bag, as she tosses the tiny pair of scissors Jack's way.

Kleio De Santos: Maybe I underestimated you.

Jack picks up the magic scissors with a big smile on his face.

Jack The Clipper: YES! AL'S MAGIC SCISSORS ARE MINE!

Kleio De Santos: Yeah, you enjoy those. I'm going to get to work on potion that will help take down Madison.

Jack laughs. In his head he thinks how naive Kleio is...she thinks she has the real Madison Gray's hair, and all the while he has swindled her for some valuable magic scissors. Oh if only it was he who was facing her for the TV Title.

Jack The Clipper: Ah yes, and good luck to you as well.

Kleio walks out clutching the bag of hair.

Both she and Jack believe they got one over on the other. Jack gives her fake hair, and Kleio gives Jack a pair of nonmagic scissors. But, then again, with both of them actually believing that they have the objects they desire...does it really make a difference? For Madison Gray and Al Blizzard...it just might not.










Snip snip. ​

​

​

 

[Rawr]

FTN

in

Not Another School Setting


It’s a bright sunny morning at St. Golden High. The lawn is freshly mowed, green with fresh dew glistening in the sun. The sky is blue, without a cloud in sight. Mr. Sun is shining down with a smile.

Ten minutes before the bell, a school bus comes to a stop at the front gate. The suspension hisses as the bus lowers ever so slightly and a line of eager students casually make their exit. All wearing drab grey uniforms. White buttoned up shirts, grey slacks for the boys, plaid grey and black skirts of the girls, black leather shoes, with optional tie and blazer inscribed with the school’s insignia on the breast.

Last off the bus were a pair of friends. Two young adults obsessed with semen jokes and after school fights. A boy named Alyster, and a boy named Christopher.

Neither one of these boys could possibly be considered a model student. Alyster’s attendance record was less than stellar, bordering on preventing him from graduating at the end of the year. His uniform was unkempt, his shirt never ironed, his blazer was torn in some places, and his shoes did not conform to policy. Instead of leather black shoes he often wore white sneakers. None of the other students liked him, with the exception of Christopher. Most of his friends attended another school.

Chris, as he liked to be called, wasn’t much better. His attendance record was better than Alyster’s, though when he did show up for school he spent a large portion of class time sleeping. His uniform was tidier, his shoes were correct and of the two Chris was more likely to befriend other students, in fact he actually got along quite well with the rest of the school body. That was until he met and began his association with Alyster. Though most people who knew Chris chalked this drastic change of character up to Chris exposing his real feelings rather than any outside influence.

“Another day.” Chris sighs in disappointment.

“I hate it here so much. I just want to ditch again.”

“Nah mate, you’ve ditched too much this year. You’re on track to being held back.” Chris reaches up, brushing his pencil thin, freshly growing moustache with his fingers, “Damn, it’s kinda messed up that I have to be the responsible one out of the two of us.”

“I suppose it’s a good thing I’ve got you to keep me on track. I could be at home smoking and playing video games instead of enjoying paradise at St. Golden High. Speaking of which, why is it called St. Golden when it’s not a catholic school?”

Chris simply shrugs his shoulders.

“It’s one of those things that you’re not supposed to think about too hard right?”

As they step onto the grass their attention is turned toward a scrawny figure rushing past them. A young lad named Harry who was unfortunate enough to provoke the pair’s ire. Chris reached out with his foot, blocking Harry’s path. Harry tripped and fell, rolling over the wet grass, his shirt quickly becoming covered in grass stains.

“Where do you think you’re going you Harry Potter looking mother fucker?”

Harry was on all fours, frantically pawing at the grass, looking for his glasses.

“Where’s the rest of the nerd brigade, Hazzah?” Alyster chuckled at his own feat of witisim, Chris joined him, bellowing loudly.

“Is there a problem here, fellas?”

Alyster and Chris turned to find a very large friend of Harry’s standing behind him.

“Oh no problem at all.”

“We were just helping Harry up.”

Both men grabbed Harry by the arms and pulled him to his feet. As Chris quickly brushed the grass off of his back, Alyster picked up and placed his glasses back on.

“You’re lucky this ain’t fun no more.” Alyster growled in Harry’s ear right before he and Chris slowly backed away from Harry and Thomas, snapping their fingers in unison.

<============================3

First period was spent in the bathroom smoking. The friends fancied themselves a pair of rebels, regularly skipping class in order to break rules and do “whatever”.

Alyster finds himself sitting atop the bench housing the basins, taking a long drag from his smoke and expelling the toxic fumes with a deep sigh. “Fuck, I’m already bored with this concept. Why does everyone have to do something like this?”

Chris is leaning against the wall, flicking ash onto the floor. “What do you mean?”

“This whole school thing, it’s been done before and it’s been done to death. I’m sick of it already.”

“No shit mate, of course you feel like its overplayed, you have to show up five days a week.”

“Yeah but like, shit, I’m bored. I’m bored to tears. I just don’t give a fuck. I don’t care about this school. I don’t give a fuck about the other students.”

“And none of them give a fuck about you.”

“I don’t care what they think of me to be honest. I’ve got one guy around here I can count on and that’s all I need.”

Chris points at himself as if he was genuinely unsure who his best friend was talking about, which elicits an eye roll from Alyster in response. “Ah, and I was beginning to think you didn’t care.”

“That’s what I’m trying to say though. I don’t really care. Not about any of this, it’s a huge waste of time in my opinion.”

“It’s a good thing the world doesn’t operate based on your opinion then. Otherwise all we’d do is shoot the shit and get nothing done. Honestly, we would be even more unstoppable if we were actually somewhat organised in the slightest.”

Alyster grumbles then reaches out, slamming his fist on the hand dryer and bringing it to life and startling Chris who happens to be standing right beside it, forcing him to drop his smoke on the filthy bathroom floor.

“Shit man, just hang in there and I swear today will at the very least be funny.” Chris bends over to pick up his cigarette, he holds it up in the light to inspect it then brushes off some dirt before putting it back in his mouth. “I mean, you saw how we handled Harry this morning. Funniest shit I ever saw.”

“It was sophomoric, there was no substance. It was surface level funny at best.”

“Mate, we’re sophomoric, lacking in substance and surface level at best. You know, people still doubt that we’re even friends.”

“Oh yeah.” Alyster’s tone brightens up as the obvious is pointed out to him. He hops down from the bench and pulls a leatherman from his pocket. With the blade flipped out he begins to carve graffiti into the wooden bench.

Chris walks over, looking at his friend’s handiwork from over his shoulder. “Is that? It is. Bah gawd, it’s a damn cum truck.”

Indeed Alyster has drawn a cum truck, complete with a penis hose shooting out the aforementioned contents of the truck.

“Now that’s just genius. Surface level, substance lacking, sophomoric genius.”

“Thanks bud.”

The good times quickly come to an end as the bathroom door slams open and in steps the principal of St. Golden High. Mr. Snake.

“And just what is going on here lads?”

Alyster and Chris groan at the sight of their principal. Mr. Snake is a constant thorn in their sides, always putting a stop to their fun. They immediately both put their cigarettes out in the sink and toss the butts into the trash while Mr. Snake looks on tutting.

“Smoking in the school bathrooms and ditching the first period yet again gentlemen. This is what, the fifth time this year I’ve caught you in the act. And what’s this?”

Mr. Snake walks over to inspect Alyster’s artwork.

“I hope you’re not proud of this one fellas, it’s completely lacking in substance.”

“We’re already well aware of that sir.”

“It’s still funny.”

“Tell that to the ghosts who dwell in this room. I’m afraid you’ve both earned yourselves an afternoon in my office afterschool, what do you think about that?”

They both roll their eyes, much to Mr. Snake’s chagrin.

“I frankly think that sucks.”

“I second that motion.”

“It’s a good thing this school doesn’t run on your opinions then. I’ll be seeing you two later, now go to class.”

The duo grumble as they follow Mr. Snake out of the room. As they step out they come across a student from their first period class, a goth girl and wannabe witch named Celestia who cracks with open laughter at the sight of the boys.

“Fuck off Celestia.” Chris calls out to her as she strolls past.

Alyster chimes in, “It’s a change of pace seeing you without your sister.”

“Yeah, I thought the two of you were attached at the hip.”

“Pair of siamese bitches.”

Alyster almost leaps out of his skin when Mr. Snake grabs him by the shoulder. “Mr. Black, that is rather misogynistic. You’re coming with me, ISS right now.”

“Ouch dude.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll see ya later Chris you stupid bitch.”

Mr. Snake growls at Alyster. “You’re making it worse for yourself, I’ve never encountered such misogyny in my entire time running this great institution.”

“Come on sir, how is me calling Chris a bitch misogynistic. He’s a man, such a man, he’s a real man’s man.”

Snake shoves Alyster forward, marching him off in the opposite direction from Chris.

“You know sir, if you keep acting like this then I may have to resort to calling you my favourite ‘C’ word.”

Chris can only chuckle before he follows Celestia to class.

The witch strolling in front of him looks back over her shoulder, glaring at him.

“What are you looking at? Listen, I’m not afraid to backhand a witch.”

“Right, just like how you’re not afraid to backhand Thomas West right?”

“Hey, slapping Thomas just ain’t fun anymore. Me and Alyster have taken care of him and his mates anyway. So fuck ‘em.”

“That’s not what I heard.”

“Who gives a shit about what you heard. You, your sister, and that Kleio chick can all pound sand for all I care. Me and my boy run this shit school.”

“God, you and your buddy are the biggest morons here.”

“And we’re proud of it too. Infuriating isn’t it?”

“Well, neither of you are anything special on your own!”

“Oh yeah? Rich coming from you!”

As Chris says that, he nudges Celestia in the back and she walks face-first into an open locker, falling on the floor. Chris cackles to himself and then continues down the corridor towards his lesson, which with Alyster preoccupied, he actually decides he will attend. He takes one last look back at poor Celestia, and another girl helps her to her feet. This is someone that Chris has never seen before, and when he turns around, he bumps into another student.

In his anger, he stuffs the boy into an open locker and slams it shut, “Watch where you’re going, Reagan, you dickhead!”

<============================3

Alyster grunts as Mr. Snake gives him a shove right into his office.

“You know the drill.” The principal grunts as he follows the wayward student inside and takes a seat at his desk.

Alyster is set up in the corner, sitting at a desk that’s illuminated by a single bright lamp. The lamp is pointed right at whomever is sitting at the desk’s face at all times. Alyster suspected that this was a torture technique employed by the school principal to warp and break his students. The slight inconvenience always left Alyster feeling bitter and angry.

“Text book out Mr. Black, get to work, focus up, and hopefully this day can pass without further incident.”

“Come on sir, you’re acting like I’m not your favourite student.” Alyster grins as he pokes the bear.

“As it happens, you were one of my favourite students. Then you started to suck, now you don’t even crack the top 20.”

“As if you could even name 20 other students here. Admit it, you love what Chris and I bring to this school.”

“Hardly, in fact I still don’t quite understand how the two of you are even friends.”

“Have we not covered this topic to death? It’s because we have fun together. Isn’t that enough?”

“You two literally broke out into a fight just last week.”

“I had the time of my life.”

“He threw you off the damn roof. Quite frankly it’s a miracle that you’re not dead let alone here grinding away at my patience.”

Alyster shrugs, which Mr. Snake finds beyond aggravating. The ageing principal grits his teeth.

“What happened to you, Alyster? You used to be one of our best and brightest.”

“You want to know the truth sir?”

Mr. Snake nods his head eagerly, “Go ahead son, I can handle it.”

“Fine. I hate it here. It’s not fun anymore. I feel like I’m going through the motions. I feel like every day is Groundhog Day, you know? I go to bed, I wake up, I eat, and I have to come here and be bitter, miserable, and angry. I have to look the same people in the eye and tell them that I hate their guts. I have to throw hands with the same bastards over and over. And the only thing keeping me going, the only thing that makes me crack a smile, you all judge me for it! You all say that it’s not going to last, you all talk behind my back, crack jokes and you don’t appreciate the effort we put forth.”

“You’re rambling son. What are you talking about exactly?”

“I’m talking about Chris and I, and how this whole fucking school can’t wait to see us fight for real. I’m talking about how every asshole in my class decided that we’re a couple of assholes, and that everything we do is a joke. But they’re not fucking laughing, why the hell aren’t they laughing with us?”

Alyster is left breathing heavily as he turns his attention away from the principal and toward, not a textbook, but a novel. A Stephen King book about a young ostracised girl. He and Mr. Snake sit in silence for a short while before the principal clears his throat and speaks up again.

“Would you like to know what the problem is with you and Chris?”

Alyster rolls his eyes, “I know what the problem is. I just don’t get why it’s a problem.”

“You’re both woefully arrogant and think you’re better than everyone else.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed this Mr. Snake, but everyone here thinks they’re better than everyone else. Chris and I just know it for a fact.” Alyster puts his book down and looks back over to the principal, “If maintaining the status quo makes us bullies, or makes them all hate us even more than that’s fine. If I have to act like a bastard to earn their respect, that’s fine too. Lord knows they didn’t have an ounce of respect for me before.”

Silence again permeates through the room, but not for long. Alyster takes a moment to stand up and stretch, walking over to a bay window that overlooks the grassy field where the P.E classes are usually conducted. Alyster can hear it in the distance, it’s faint at first but gradually increases in volume.

BARK!
BARK!
BARK!
BARK!
BARK!
BARK!
BARK!
BARK!

His eyes widen as he spots in the distance, a small weasel.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Language Mr. Black.”

“But sir, it’s fucking out there, it’s come for me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That goddamn weasel. It’s stalking me.”

Mr. Snake rises from his desk and waddles over to the window, looking out at the grassy field for the intruder.

“I don’t see anything.”

“It’s out there sir, can’t you hear it barking? It’s incessant.”

“Well, we’ll chalk this delusion up to karma. Now sit down and get back to work.”

“Fuck sake…”

Alyster grimaces as the weasel disappears from view. He returns to his desk in the corner, being blinded by the lamp while still hearing the sound of terrifying, incessant, mind-shattering barking.

<============================3

In usual fashion, Chris spends the majority of his science lesson sleeping at the back of the classroom. The teacher, Mr. King, had been teaching at the school for a long time and being such a chill guy, does not care whether Chris pays attention in his class or not. This of course works in Chris’s favour, as he would not be paying attention whether the teacher wanted him to or not.

Also in the class is Celestia, with her sister Blair. The two wannabe witches sit together as usual, and Chris made sure to crack a laugh at Celestia’s nose with toilet tissue hanging out of it after he shoved her into the locker before falling asleep. However, the sun reflecting off of another student’s watch at such an angle that it shone directly into Chris’s eyes wakes him him.

His first order of business is to remove the watch from the boy’s hand and drop it out of the open window. The boy, Cyrus, wails about it being of sentimental value and Chris simply ignores him. It is at this time that Chris decides to listen to what Mr. King has to say, for once.

“Now, everybody listen up. This Friday we have our St. Golden High Science Fair! So, I want you all to partner up with someone and together you can plan what you are going to exhibit for everyone! Come on now, get into pairs.”

“Shit.” This is all that Chris can muster as he scans the room. Frankly, the competition that he would be posed with from all of the other pairs was pathetic, especially in comparison to himself and Alyster. With Alyster not there though, Chris realises he needs to find someone else to work with. Of course, he is more than capable of handling himself, but he can only watch as the pairs are formed. Celestia teams with her sister Blair, Cyrus partners with another loser named Konchu, a prefect called Tommy pairs up with a former prefect also named Chris but with a different bird based last name.

There is no one left for Chris Peacock. It annoys him that Celestia’s comments towards him seem to be ringing true. Whether it was due to his alliance with Alyster or a dormant side of himself has taken over, people simply do not like Chris Peacock anymore. Most of the time, this is irrelevant and meaningless to him. But take Alyster away? Who does Chris have? Is he right to put all of his eggs into one basket like that?

“Hi… Do you not have a partner?”

Chris is taken completely by surprise when he feels a light tapping on his shoulder and he has to stop himself from instinctively turning around and throwing a punch. Everyone knows better than to approach him like that. Ready to eviscerate whoever it was that dared touch him, Chris pauses when he sees who it was that did it.

It is the same girl that helped Celestia earlier on.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Trixie!”

There is a pause when Chris grunts and then watches Trixie take the free seat next to him and she turns to him one more time.

“Wanna be friends?”

Thoughts race around Chris’s mind questioning what is wrong with this girl. Whoever she is and wherever it was that she came from, she surely does not have much between the ears to think that this is a clever course of action.

“What’s your name?”

“Chris.”

“Well, it is really great to meet you. I’m so glad that we can be friends. Shall we start working on our project for the science fair? I’m so excited to get to work in a team with you! Sometimes when I work on my own, things don’t go really well. Hey, what do you think about Celestia and Blair? They’re really spooky, but you know what, I like them. I’m friends with them too. OHMYGOSH! YOU should be friends with them as well! Maybe they’ll let the two of them work with them and we can all present at the fair together! I’M GOING TO ASK THEM!”

Watching Trixie excitedly bounce across the classroom over to the wannabe witches, Chris makes eye contact with Celestia from across the room as Trixie pitches her case. The hateful look makes it clear that she will have to agree to the request. Chris does not want to work with these three, but if it meant not failing, he would do it.

Trixie seems alright, after all.

<============================3

“This is bullshit, dude.”

It is only after Mr. Snake has left the room that Alyster feels comfortable talking to Chris. Yet another bollocking from the headteacher is the worst thing imaginable right now as the best friends sat in detention. However, Chris is too engrossed in writing something on one of the sheets of paper provided by Mr. Snake so the boys could catch up on missed school work. “What are you doing with that?”

Without warning, Alyster snatches the paper. He reads it. His face screws up, as does the paper when he wrinkles it into a ball. Alyster takes a shot at the bin and swooshes it.

“Come on, man. That’s not cool, is it?”

“Not cool? Why the hell are you doing some work for that fucking science thing? You’re not actually planning on going to that, are you?”

“As a matter of fact, I think I was.”

Alyster slams his fists against the table, shaking his head. “Not you as well. PLEASE not fucking you as well! Why is everyone in this school a monumental arsehole, Chris?”

“Look dude, you don’t like anyone. I get it. No one is trying to make you change apart from Snake, though. That being said, it wouldn’t kill you to make a bit more of an effort. You heard what he said earlier on, you could get kicked out.”

“Think I give a fuck about that? I’ll blow up the joint on my way out!”

“It doesn’t need to be this way, Aly. We’re fucking kings here, man. Imagine if we took away the one thing that people can get on our backs about? Bullies who actually do well in class… that shit is hilarious and it will piss Snake off to no end, too.”

There is silence as Alyster considers what Chris has suggested for a moment. Unfortunately, any hopes for Chris’s idea dies as soon as he chooses to speak again. “I can even see if we can get you added to our group for the science fair.”

“What group?”

“Well, I got paired up with someone and then she got us further paired up with Celestia and Blair. Those witch weirdos know a thing or two about potions and shit like that.”

“Who are you talking about? Who is this partner?”

“Trixie… her second name is something French, I think. She’s very keen... but seems okay enough, you know? Like the first thing she asked me is if we can be friends.“

“So she just wants to be friends with everyone? Doesn’t matter who they are?”

Chris nods. It was strange for someone in this day and age to be nice to him. Alyster stands up and starts pacing in between the desks in the room. “No, no. Not again, no fucking way!”

“What are you talking about, dude?”

“This has happened to me before, or to one of my other friends. You know Jake, right?”

Chris nods. It is not long since he had overcome his jealousy towards Alyster’s friend from another school.

“Well, there’s this kid, fucking Jeremy. He starts at Jake’s school and yeah he’s all nice and wants to be friends and hug everyone… turns out he’s a complete fucking psycho. Kidnaps Jake, holds him hostage. The works. It was super fucked up. So like fuck am I going to let the same thing happen to you.”

Alyster wraps his hands around Chris’ shoulders, looking his partner dead in the eye and addressing him with complete sincerity.

“One minute it’s teaming up for a science project and the next you’re swinging from the ceiling of her basement by your balls. So we’re going to take this bitch out now, get ahead of the curve.”

“Did you not listen to what Snake said earlier on? You can’t say that word!”

“I don’t learn anything, ever! Chrissy, we’re going to kill two birds with one stone. We’re going to make sure that crazy psycho doesn’t ever get to the point where she becomes a crazy psycho and we’re also going to teach this piece of shit school a lesson not to fuck with us!”

Alyster reaches into his rucksack and pulls out a small beaker, secured firmly shut with a red lid. Inside the transparent container there is a white substance sloshing around. Chris instantly knows what this substance is.

“I’ve got an idea, a brilliant idea.”

“I hope that idea doesn’t involve me having to fill up a flask of my own.”

“Oh yes, more than one. Have you ever seen the film Carrie?”

“Oh…oh Alyster…no…you, we can’t, no…not with the contents of that flask.”

“And just why not?”
“Because that’s one we’ll never be able to be forgiven for. Everyone will hate us, you can’t Carrie someone with cum. Besides, they didn’t use cum in the film, they used pig’s blood.”

“They used cum in the version I watched.”

A sinister smirk crosses Alyster’s lips as he imagines the chaos that’s about to befall the St. Golden High science fair.

“You’re sick, you know that right?”

“I’m the only healthy fucker here.”

<============================3

The science fair is going just as expected. Students show off their experiments and inventions to mildly interested teachers and parents. Neither of our heroes had informed their parents of the event, namely because they were not remotely interested in participating nor do they want their parents to see what they were planning.

Through the sea of homemade volcanoes, potato clocks and amateur robotics, right in the middle of the school's gymnasium, is Trixie and the Ravenwood sisters. Their group name includes Chris Peacock, but he is nowhere to be found. Celestia and Blair are fully aware that Chris will not show up, but the optimistic and seemingly naive Trixie is clearly still holding out hope.

In fact, all she needs to do is look up. Because right above the mix of potions and other concoctions that the witches had brewed, Chris and Alyster were setting up their own science experiment.

They speak in hushed tones.

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t let me use the cum. I knocked one out at school to get us that.”

“Hey, there’s a line man. We’ve already pushed it several times with the shit we’ve been up to this week. Anyway, if we want it to be like the film, it has to be pig’s blood.”

“It is so annoying how much of a sucker for details you are.” Alyster looks down from his perch to see a crowd gathering at the Ravenwood sisters and Trixie’s display. “Look, everyone is coming to see what they’ve done.”

The two boys watch as a crowd forms around the exhibit and mumbles in an excited but hushed tone. Even from up above they can hear Trixie explaining just what their experiment entails, even though she really doesn’t quite understand it herself. She even stupidly gives Chris credit for being part of the team and her friend.

Chris feels bad for what horror he and Alyster are about to unleash upon her… until he doesn’t. Chris pulls a cord and this releases the buckets of pig’s blood that he and Alyster had gimmicked to drop beneath them.

Screams of horror fill the gym as not only are Trixie, Celestia and Blair covered in the blood, but several onlookers are too. The Ravenwood sister’s are utterly humiliated, staring out amongst the crowd with wide eyes. They’re stunned silent. Trixie immediately bursts into tears, squealing as she shakes and tries desperately to wipe the blood off of her.

“Ew, get it off, get it, off getitoff!”

People begin to look up and they see the two figures above the carnage, hanging from the scaffolding above, in a precarious position but both comfortable, not just with the heights but with all the attention being focused on them.

“Prepare for trouble!”

“Make it double!”

“To protect this school with masturbation!”

“To reach far places with ejaculation!”

“To denounce the evils of work and detention!”

“Were probably going to get a suspension!”

“Chris.”

“Alyster.”

“FTN beat you off and do a little dance!”

“With skills so cool you’ll make a mess in your pants!”

It is immediately clear that no one appreciates the pre-worked routine that Chris and Alyster spent most of the previous evening’s detention working on.

Not surprised by this spectacle are the Ravenwood sisters who have taken Trixie and are desperately trying to comfort her. Poor Trixie had trusted Chris and thought she had made a new friend, only to see his true nature in action. Only to be reminded that FTN cares only about itself above all others.

FTN are wildly proud of themselves, though are quite disappointed that the crowd hasn’t joined in on the fun. Where was the laughter? Where was the humiliation? Was this simply an callous act with no redeeming qualities?

Well yes, but it wasn’t without purpose.

They sigh and then scamper across the rafters out of sight before making their escape with another team left in their wake, embarrassed and defeated.

Because it is true, they are just better than everyone else and no traditional metric is going to show that. What they possess is what everyone doesn’t. The ability to simply not care what people think of them anymore.

School is a place where people say “it is what you make of it”, and that’s true. So Chris and Alyster decided to make it their playground, with everyone inside of it being their toys to use at their disposal. There are times when they fight, as all brothers do. But really, it’s all just for show to keep any crane-necked ill wishers interested.

After a while, it gets boring just being better than everyone else. There are many in this school that would hope to take them down, but none of them will.

Chris and Alyster leave the gymnasium and bump fists. A query crosses Alytser’s mind.

“Hey, so what did you do with my beaker?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

In his office, unaware of the incident at the science fair, Mr. Snake takes a swig from his coffee flask… and grimaces.​

 

[Sully]

The Coven in...

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Spoiler: Plain Text

Prologue


Just imagine for a moment…

You’re a little 11 year old kid, seemingly nothing special about you. You’ve lived an ordinary life up to this point. You go to school and learn about incredibly interesting things, like how to say your 7 times table! WOW, so FUN and EXCITING!

…now, imagine that you’re this seemingly normal kid living this seemingly normal life, and then one day, out of the blue, you receive a letter.

I KNOW, SO EXHILARATING! The address on this letter reads;

“Jeeves Montgomery,
The 3rd Bedroom on the left,
30 Poshperson Place,
Wessex.
HS64 G83”

Reading the address, you feel extremely creeped out. Who sent this letter? And how on earth do they know what room I sleep in? You take a look over your shoulder, to make sure nobody is watching as you peel open the envelope, curious as to what else this mysterious, creepy person knows about you. You pull a letter from the envelope and begin to read…your jaw drops. You can’t believe what you’re reading.

“I-I-I’m a witch or wizard!?” You ask yourself, depending on how you identify. “No, that can’t be right…”

As you continue to read, you find that you’ve been invited to attend a school. In that exact moment, you “Pfft!” as you scrumple the letter up.

“I ain’t going to another school,” you think to yourself, “I hate the one I’m already in, but at least I know people there!”

You throw the letter in the trash and go about your day…

…the following 3 weeks, you receive 183 letters all saying the same thing as the first one. Your parents or guardian put in a complaint at the local post office, but they assure your carer that they’ve never seen these letters before. Fed up of having to deal with drowning in envelopes every day as they shoot through every damn orifice of your house, your family decides to move. You wind up taking refuge in a small abandoned shack in the middle of the ocean during a rainstorm. You have no electricity, no Wi-Fi, your phone can only get 3G, which is dead slow, and is also running out of charge. This sucks, but at least the people that were waterboarding you with letters can’t find you here…or do you thought, until you hear a SLAM against the door of your ocean shack! You’re startled out of your skin as you flee to the corner of the room, cowering in fear as your parents or guardians bravely stand at the ready, shotgun in hand. After a few heart-stopping moments, the shack door is ripped completely from its hinges, and crashes to the floor, revealing a monstrous, terrifying figure with a big beard!

After a minor misunderstanding that involved shotgun shells being fired, it turned out that this massive yeti that had barged in on you wasn’t a yeti, but an extremely large human, and he was actually REALLY NICE! He showed off some cool magic tricks and stuff, and explained that you were a witch or wizard, and that you’ve been invited to attend a school where you would learn how to do magic!

Naturally, your parents or guardians go along with this and lets you leave the shack in the middle of the night, during a rainstorm, with this complete stranger who just broke in, on his flying motorcycle, and your new life as a witch or wizard begins, and you’re SO EXCITED!

…well, in the case of the vast majority of the students who’ve ever attended Hogwarts, most everything that I described after you opened the letter, didn't happen. In a pandemic of gullibleness and bad parenting, most kids and families jumped at the chance to attend the Magic School with basically zero questions asked. Thank Christ this wasn’t some scam, or worse.

Despite her brother’s apprehension about letting the incredibly gullible and suggestible Trixie attend Hogwarts when he had read her letter, Trixie was adamant. She wanted to be a witch, and more specifically, she wanted to be special…and special, she was.

ACT 1 - Bed Head.

Around 9 months have passed since Trixie had first set foot in Hogwarts. See, she was not like most of the students in her year group, as unlike them, Trixie had received her letter not when she was 11 years old, but rather, when she was 16. So there she was, a girl in year 5 of Hogwarts, and she had little to no magical knowledge or experience. It’s fair to say, then, that it’s been a bit of a roller coaster for Trixie… and in this moment in particular, Trixie seems as though she’s plummeting down.

See, a few weeks ago, Trixie’s best friends, Blair and Celestia Ravenwood, whom Trixie met in Hogwarts, had attempted to turn two students into frogs using magic. The Ravenwood Sisters are nothing if not mischievous, and they are extremely talented witches, however on this occasion, their prank horribly backfired, and they missed their mark…and hit two other students instead. Unfortunately, their intended targets, students by the name of Tommy Bedlam and Chris Crowe, had not taken kindly to The Ravenwood Sister’s attempted toading, and the ensuing conflict did not end well for Blair and Celestia.

Being tough cookies, and with a little help from their good friend magic, the sister’s recovered quickly. The incident did, however, enrage Trixie, who sought an opportunity for revenge upon those who had hurt her friends. The young blonde girl didn’t have to wait very long, as she had been pitted against Chris Crowe in dueling class, and she would step onto the table opposite Crowe, ready to unleash her unbridled fury upon him…she fought valiantly, however in the end, she had suffered the same fate as her friends. Trixie Bordeaux had been defeated. She had failed her friends.

This cold hard fact weighs heavy on her mind as we see Trixie, alone in the Hufflepuff girl’s dormitory, head buried in her pillow, weeping as though she had just lost a beloved family pet. Losing sucked, and Trixie certainly wouldn’t be happy after such a defeat, but the fact that she had vowed to get revenge for Blair and Celestia, and had failed in that endeavor…to Trixie, it felt like she had committed the gravest of sins.

As the young blonde girl weeps, her cries muffled in the pillow, Blair and Celestia walk through the door…literally.

“YES! IT WORKED!” Celestia cheers in triumph, as she turns to see Blair pass through a solid wooden door as though it didn’t exist. “The potion worked! We can walk through walls!”

Looking bored and unimpressed, Blair shrugs. “Eh, it’s a useless ability to have.”

“Hey!” Celestia responds, offended. “I spend weeks on that potion!”

“And once it wears off, you’ll never make another one, because again, it’s a crap ability.” Blair says, seemingly trying her hardest to stomp out any feeling of achievement that her sister may have. “Like, you could’ve spent weeks making a potion that turns the drinker into a genius…could’ve used it on Trixie.”

Hearing the sly insult, Trixie’s weeping intensifies.

Hearing this, and coming to the realization that they’re not alone in the dormitory, Celestia speaks up.

“Nah, Trixie don’t need no genius juice! She’s super smart already!” Celestia says loudly, making sure Trixie hears the compliment.

Blair snickers, thinking it’s a joke, before Celestia gives her a stern look, and points toward the bed where Trixie lays crying. Each bed in the room has curtains around them for privacy, and Trixie’s curtains are closed.

“T-Trixie?” Celestia says in a gentle voice as she moves slowly towards Trixie’s bed. “Is that you?”

Trixie attempts to suppress her weeping, seemingly not wanting to face Blair and Celestia’s judgment after committing her cardinal sin. Unfortunately, her suppressed sniveling isn’t enough to convince Celestia that Trixie isn’t home.

Blair rolls her eyes and storms towards Trixie’s bed and draws the curtain, revealing a bed, with a very noticeable mount underneath the blanket.

“Really?” Blair asks, shaking her head.

The mound doesn’t respond.

“Merlin’s beard, get over it, Trix!” Blair yells annoyed, causing the mount to suddenly jolt in startlement. “So you got your butt kicked by Chris Crowe in dueling class…big deal. Me and Celestia got whooped too by him and Tommy, but you don’t see us moping around!”

For the first time since her friends entered the room, the mound responds, her voice muffled slightly.

“But I promised you I would make him pay for beating you up, and I failed. I let you down.” Trixie says, sniveling.

“You didn’t let us down, Trix,” Celestia responds warmly. “I thought you did great!”

“And you really didn’t let me down…I had a bet going with that bitch Cali Hayama, and I had Crowe winning!” Blair says with a smile, reaching into her robe and pulling out a handful of gold coins. “I’m ten galleons richer, thanks to you!”

Celestia glares at her sister, and for good reason. This revelation should serve to anger, insult, or hurt young Trixie. The fact that one of her closest friends had bet against her, however…

“Soooooo, yo-...you’re not mad I lost?” Trixie asks, a tinge of hope in her voice as she slowly creeps out from underneath the blanket, revealing a messy, mascara dripped face and red, watery eyes.

“Of cours-“ Celestia goes to respond, but is cut off by…

“Well, you getting your butt kicked made me money, so nope!” Blair interrupts with a grin, before being elbowed in the kidney by Celestia.

“You did great, Trix.” Celestia says encouragingly. “And don’t worry, the next time you’re standing opposite either Chris Crowe or Bedlam, I’m sure you’ll kick their asses!”

Celestia’s encouraging words bring a giggling smile to Trixie’s face as she wipes the remaining tears from her eyes. Meanwhile, Blair, rubbing her side after her sister’s elbow had driven straight into it, goes to sit on the bed next to Trixie’s, when…

…she passes straight through the bed and lands with a thud on the floor!

“What the heck!” Blair yelps in shock, as her head pokes up through the mattress.

Celestia burst into laughter at seeing her sister’s predicament, as Trixie looks completely baffled.

“Wai-...Wha-...Yo-Y-You okay?” Trixie asks, trying to process Blair’s current predicament.

A sudden realization hits Blair.

“Haha, yeah I’m fine. It's just that damn potion you made, Celestia.” Blair says in relief, her head still poking through the mattress. “Turns out, it works on more than just doors…I wonder why we haven’t fallen through the floor?”

“I dunno-hehehe,” Celestia responds, trying to control her laughter. “Yo-hehehe, you’d better get out of there before the potion wears off, or you’ll be stuck with a bad case of bed head, hehehahaha!”

Taking Celestia’s advice on board, Blair attempts to climb out from inside the bed…but to no avail.

“Uuuhh, how long did you say the effects of this potion were supposed to last?” Blair says, concerned.

“I dunno…a couple hours?” Celestia responds, unsure. “Why?”

“…I’m stuck.” Blair responds, embarrassed.

Celestia’s eyes widen in glee as she tries not to burst into laughter once more.

“Don’t worry, Blair, we’ll get you out!” Trixie says, springing from her bed, ready to help…but there’s just one problem…

“Uh, Celestia? How do we get Blair out of her bed?” Trixie asks, looking at Celestia, who seems to be struggling to keep herself from dying of laughter.

“I-…” Celestia bites her lip, trying to compose herself. “…I dunnoooo.”

“Well, figure it out, SIS!” Blair snaps in anger.

Despite Blair’s demand, the only person who seems to be doing any figuring is Trixie, as she scratches her head in deep thought, trying to come up with a solution. Trixie sees Blair’s feet poking out from underneath the bed, and a light bulb goes off in her mind.

“Ooo! OOO! I’ve got it!” Trixie says triumphantly, as she reaches down and grabs Blair’s ankles tightly…

“Uh, Trixie, what are you doing?” Blair asks, her face etched in worry.

“Don’t worry, Blair, I’ll get you out!” Trixie exclaims, before pulling on Blair’s ankles with all her might!

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Blair streams, her eyes looking as though they are about to pop out of their sockets “STOOOOOOOOOOOOP, YOU BLOODY MORON!”

Watching on as her sister's head nearly gets ripped clean off her shoulders as Trixie yanks away at her legs, Celestia collapses to the floor in laughter.

“NEARLY GOT IT!” Trixie exclaims, pulling even harder!

“Trixie…sto-...st…stop…please!” Blair struggles, as she begins to choke.

Luckily for her, Trixie does just that. Blair gasps, filling her lungs with air.

“You…you’re a goddamn idiot, Trixie.” Blair says, between massive gulps of air. “I hate you….”

“I-...I’m sorry…” Trixie says, welling up, with Blair’s words feeling like a knife to her heart.

“Good. You should be.” Blair says spitefully.

With Blair’s comment and Trixie’s reaction to it having sucked all of the fun out of the situation, Celestia’s laughing fit subsides and she sits up, staring at a watery-eyed Trixie as she tries her hardest not to cry. Seeing Trixie so hurt by Blair’s words, Celestia turns her attention to her trapped sister.

“That was uncalled for, Blair.” Celestia says, shaking her head as she climbs to her feet. “She was only trying to help. You know she’d never hurt you on purpose.”

Celestia walks over to and sits down on Trixie’s bed, next to the weeping girl.

“Oh for Christ’s sake, really?” Blair scowls as Celestia sits comfortably on Trixie’s bed. “Celestia, you have better get me the hell out of here, so help me-”

“Or what?” Celestia interrupts, her eyes locked with her sister’s. “What are you gonna do? You gonna beat me up, huh!? You gonna turn me into a rat like you did when we were kids? Go ahead…Do it.”

If Blair’s eyes were lasers, she’d have burnt two holes in Celestia's head.

“Celestia, I promise you, on Grandma Ethel’s former grave…” Blair says seethingly, wishing so much that she had the power to oblige her sister’s request for violence. Realizing that she needs her sister’s help, however, Blair bites her venomous tongue. “If you get me out of this, I won’t turn you into a rodent.”

The two sisters stare each other out, neither refusing to blink, before Trixie interrupts their little contest.

“Y-You could make more of that potion stuff.” Trixie suggests timidly. “M-Maybe if she drinks some more, she could climb out?”

Both Blair and Celestia’s gazes turn to Trixie, each as flabbergasted as the other.

“That’s actually-...yeah, that should work.” Blair says, shocked that Trixie had thought of it before her or Celestia.

“Yeah, that would work….” Celestia says, smirking at Trixie, impressed. “Great job, Trix.”

Celestia pats Trixie on the back encouragingly, before staring once more at her sister.

“Well, Blair? You got something to say to Trixie?” Celestia says, encouraging her sister to apologize to Trixie for what she said.

“...nope.” Blair responds bluntly.

Trixie’s head sinks even further, as Celestia scowls at Blair.

“C’mon, Trix, let’s go to Potion’s and rescue Blair, shall we?” Celestia says with a manipulating smirk that Trixie doesn’t pick up on, but Blair does.

Trixie nods agreeingly, and the two hops off the bed and heads towards the door, before Celestia turns back towards her sister…

“We’ll go as fast as we can, sis,” Celestia says with a sinister smirk, “but it may take a while for me to conjure up another elixir.”

Blair scowls hatefully as Celestia and Trixie exits the room, leaving her stuck inside her bed, alone and in a humiliating position.





ACT 2 -

Despite luring Trixie away from the dorm room under the guise of rushing to help Blair, Celestia had no plans to rush to the aid of her sister. No, she would leave Blair stuck inside that bed and let her stew, alone with nothing but her own thoughts for company, and no one but herself to demean, insult, and treat like dirt…yup, Celestia was gonna enjoy a little break from her sister’s shadow of negativity, and also, enjoy the company of someone who actually likes and appreciates her.

As they walk through the grounds of Hogwarts, with Celestia leading Trixie to anywhere BUT the Potion’s Laboratory, Celestia stares at the downtrodden Trixie, who still looks to be suffering from the emotional stab wound that Blair had inflicted upon her when she told Trixie “I hate you.”.

Celestia had never openly admitted it, partly due to not wanting to seem “weak” in front of Blair, but she had taken a liking to Trixie ever since she had weaseled her way into Kleio’s little gang of witches. Before Trixie, The Coven had been nothing more than a collection of people who, for one reason or another, had resented each other.

Blair hates Kleio. Kleio doesn’t trust any of them. Celestia has grown tired of Blair's overbearing personality and constantly berating everything she does. Ethel is about as sane as any previously dead old witch could hope to be…and then there’s Trixie.

Trixie, who’s sole reason for joining The Coven was to make friends. She doesn’t care if Celestia messes up a potion, or loses a duel. She doesn’t have some cunning plan or scheme that she’s trying to impliment. She doesn’t want nor expect anything from Celestia. She just wanted a friend…and deep down, Celestia understood that feeling.

So, if there was anyone that Celestia wanted to help right now, it certainly wasn’t Blair…no, if anyone deserved Celestia’s help right now, it was Trixie.

“You know, Blair doesn’t actually hate you, right?” Celestia says, trying to lift Trixie’s spirits slightly. “She just says horrible things when she’s mad…or sad…or happy…or basically however she’s feeling. She doesn’t mean any of it.”

“But, I hurt her.” Trixie says, regretfully. “I’m so stupid! I shoulda known I couldn’t pull her out, but I just thought her head would sorta just…pop out.”

Celestia chuckles as she remembers the look on Blair’s face as Trixie damn near ripped her head off.

“It was kinda funny, though, haha….” Celestia laughs, before glancing back at Trixie, who isn’t at all amused. “Hehem…uh, yeah, it probably wasn’t the best idea you’ve had, but you made up for it! When we make this potion and free Blair, I know she’ll be thankful…she may not say it, but she will be.”

“I hope she’s okay…” Trixie says, her mind staying with her trapped and lonely friend.

“She’ll be fine.” Celestia scowls slightly, frustrated that all Trixie can think about is Blair.

She needed to figure out some way to take Trixie’s mind off of Blair’s stupid head poking out her mattress. Celestia thinks for a moment, trying to come up with a plan…

Suddenly it came to her. Trixie always helps her friends! So what Celestia would do is, get herself into some “trouble” then of course Trixie would have to help her.

It was perfect.

Soon enough, Celestia was in the Prefect’s bathroom, casting Ascendio to some girl who was on the toilet.

“WAIT TILL I TELL MY BOYFRIEND!” she screamed. When Celestia realized who it was, her stomach dropped. She had just picked a fight with Allie Black, girlfriend of Christof Peacock. Together Christof and Allie were the power couple of the Slytherin House. Allie Black of course coming from the Black Family was a powerful figure in the wizarding world. Christof was muggle born, but somehow that was okay with Slytherin due to Christof’s abilities. He was one of the best spell casters in the wizarding world.

And now they have their sights set on Celestia. Celestia runs to the library, where Trixie has been studying up on the ingredients needed to recreate Celestia’s walking through walls potion, and quickly sits down as if nothing is wrong. Except Trixie knows something is off.

“What’s wrong, Celestia?” Trixie asks her friend.

“Nothing…nothing at all. Why would something be wrong? No, nothing is wrong. Nothing, I’m fine. We’re fine. Everything is fine. Fine fine fine.” Celestia responds, frantically.

“Ok, well with six fines, and four nothings, consider me reassured!” Trixie says.

That’s when Celestia gasps. Trixie turns around to see the Slytherin power couple of Christof and Allie standing before them. Allie is soaking wet of toilet water.

“You bloody little skank, you got my girlfriend wet!” Christof pulls out his wand and points it at Celestia. But Trixie stands up bravely, and whips her wand out too.

Suddenly all four of them have their wands drawn in the library.

A crowd forms as things are about to get heavy.

But just before they do, they’re interrupted by Professor Russnow. “EXCUSE ME STUDENTS…the Library is not the place for a duel. Luckily for you all, I am in charge of the dueling club. So with that said, you four want to duel? You got it. Sanctioned duel, tomorrow at noon in the great hall.” he says.

Christof and Allie both chuckle. “You two are dead…” Allie says with a smirk. Trixie shouts back “You wish!” as Celestia is quivering.

They both sit back down as Celestia is looking horrified.

“Well that will be fun!” Trixie says obliviously. Celestia realizes Trixie has no idea. “Trixie…you don’t seem to understand. Christof and Allie rule the school. They are the two strongest wizards at Hogwarts. They dominate every dueling competition, they own all the trophies. “

“Oh…oops.” Trixie says. Realizing the connedrum that they are in.

Act 3 -

As Trixie and Celestia sat in the dorm room, regretting their actions and trying to figure a way out, Blair, who Trixie and Celestia had finally released from her comfy prison, came up to taunt them. “I heard you guys are going to get walloped in front of everyone. That’s going to be embarrassing”.

Trixie however gets defensive “No we’re not! We’re going to prove everyone wrong!” she shouts. Blair chuckles and says “Yeah okay, whatever” as she walks away.

Celestia has her head in her hands.

“She’s right Trixie…we’re the underdogs here…but, maybe we can use that to our advantage?” she says, coming up with a plan.

“Oh yeah? What are you thinking?” Trixie asks.

“All I know is that everyone thinks Christof and Allie are the two greatest wizards in Hogwarts. NOBODY is expecting us to win. I mean, this is basically just practice for them, right? So…what do we have to lose?” Celestia asks.

“Our heads?” Trixie says nervously.

“No. Professor Russnow would never let it get that far. But my point is this…we don’t have anything to lose. If we go out there, and we get crushed by Christof and Allie, nobody will bat an eye. But if we go out there, and we win…Christof and Allie will be humiliated. We’ll be known as the ones who beat them! And more importantly, they’ll be known as the ones who lost to us”.

Trixie smiles.

“Ok, yeah, that’s a good point…I guess we don’t need this polyjuice potion then?” Trixie says, holding up a freshly brewed batch.

Celestia’s face lights up.

Act 4 -

Now outside the Great Hall, Trixie and Celestia wait nervously. Everyone is inside, including Christof Peacock and Allie Black.

In a few moments they would be dueling with the strongest wizards of Hogwarts.

Nobody expects them to win.

Nobody even expects them to have a chance.

They picked this fight. Celestia started it, and Trixie stood up to the challenge. So anything that happens next is on them. As the two of them stand outside the Great Hall doors, Celestia looks over at Trixie. Trixie has a determined look on her face. She isn’t scared, she isn’t nervous. She’s focused. Celestia thinks for a moment about how far she’s come. When she first came to Hogwarts, she was not even close to being that brave. But Trixie always stands up for her friends, and that is what drives her.

Now, even in this situation where Celestia got them into danger, Trixie isn’t thinking twice.

Celestia was…proud to call her a friend.

Trixie looks over at her friend, and she asks her “Are you ready?” Celestia nods her head. As they both pull Polyjuice potions out of their pockets.

“We’re the Underdogs” they both say, as they chug the potions down before going through the doors.

Will the underdogs prevail? Maybe not. Maybe Christof and Allie will just utterly destroy them. But in the end, the connection that Christof and Allie have is only built on ego. It’s fragile, and barely holding on, because all they care about deep down is themselves.

Trixie and Celestia have something deeper.

A friendship that’s stronger.

The crowd cheers as the two enter the Great Hall. Little does that crowd know…the effects of that polyjuice potion should be kicking in any minute.

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