05-04-2019, 11:09 AM
05-06-2019, 03:45 PM
Darkness slowly fades back into light as Jordan Majors opens her eyes and peers up at the ceiling. It was a mere seconds ago, at least in her mind, that she was fighting Aaron Blackbourne. Then it’s darkness, blur and flashes of light. And now she stares at a tiled ceiling. Her eyes slowly trace each of the small divots that are patterned into each of the pieces above her. She squints as her eyes go from tile to the covered light. Two tubes above her lighting the small room just enough for someone to do adequate work. There’s a small amount of noise that draws her attention to a man placing a clipboard down on the desk next to him and the scratch of chair wheels across the ground that seem to come flying toward her. They all make way for a bald man in his 50s, who has more hair above his upper lip than he does on top of his head. He smiles and shows off his disgustingly, yellow stained teeth before Jordan recognizes him as one of the members of SCW’s traveling medical staff.
Trainer: Welp hun, you just got the lights knocked out of you. That man hit you right on the side of your head. Whole dang world watched those eyes of yours roll back. Gave them all a scare I’m sure.
Jordan lets out a long sigh as her head turns back to the ceiling, counting those divots as if they were stars in the sky. She didn’t remember being knocked out to be anything like those fabled cartoons, showing the stars swirling around above her head. No, it was more like a sudden blackout. Like someone shut the electricity off in her head. And now she was here, with this stinky old man who acted like he cared more than anyone else she knew. Where was Isaac? Where was Hideo? They no doubt carried her back here running away like cowards. The bank had convinced her to hire them. Were they really bodyguards or buffed up bankers?
Jordan: I feel fine.
Trainer: Well, we will run you through a few tests to make sure you don’t have a concussion and once we clear you, you’re good to go. I did go ahead and have them pull you from the next show though.
Jordan: What the hell? Why would you do that?
Trainer: Because I’m here to look after your health and the health of the other fighters. You don’t don anyone anything but a disservice by climbing back in there when your head isn’t right.
Jordan shook her head and felt the cold steel of the table touch the left and right sides of the back of her scalp. How dare this man was the only thought that came to her mind. What did she accomplish by sitting on the sidelines. What the hell was she supposed to do while the rest of the crew was going to… where were they going again?
Trainer: So, no, you won’t be going to Mexico this week. Concussed or not.
Mexico!? No trip to Mexico!? And that was one she was looking forward to. She’d even gotten a nice red, white and blue outfit made to make sure everyone down south of the border hated her guts when she paraded the colors from up north down to the ring. She was even going to have those two idiots lead a USA chant. Now, all of those plans were over. And instead she was staring at this ceiling, this stupid tiled ceiling. Reaching to each side, Jordan grips the table and slowly pulls herself up to a seated position.
Trainer: Woah, careful!
She sits up and now looks down at the floor. More tiles. Can this room be any whiter? She shakes her head as the trainer moves closer and begins to put her through a series of tests. They all mean something in the long run but she is unconsciously responding to his questions and cues. She’s pissed. Deep down, she’s even angrier. Something about missing this trip just doesn’t feel right to her. And to think it comes at the hands of someone essentially fighting for revenge. It was sickening. She’s disgusted at him and at this doctor. She imagines herself in Mexico having a margarita while Abigail rides up on her bike and grabs a beer. Wait, that isn’t right. Why is Abi driving in Mexico? What’s happening in her head right now. She shakes her head and the visualization dissipates into nothingness. Just more disappointment.
Trainer: You know, you all don’t get too many breaks throughout the year. You might want to take the week off to recover.
Recover from what? She felt fine and she definitely didn’t feel like taking any time off was going to make her feel any better. Well screw it, maybe she will take some time and go to LA or something. What did everyone else know about her health. The next 30 minutes were all a blur of boredom. She wasn’t used to being forced to sit so still and wait. She was the type to burst through doorways and elevate the smallest get togethers to the biggest parties. She was the type to escalate meeting someone to a casual encounter. No little head injury was going to take that away from her.
Trainer: Well, it looks like you…
Jordan: You know what, doc, I think I will take this next week off. I will go to Los Angeles and I will remind people why I am a star and why my star is rapidly rising at a rate they’ve never seen before I will spend it refreshing and invigorating the woman that was put on this planet to be an absolute machine in that ring. One that refuses to let anyone or anything stop her. And that includes you. Please, sir, get yourself a toothbrush and fixes your teeth and that terrible breath. I will buy it for you if you can’t afford it. You need it. This locker room needs you to need it. We want it. Do it. Please.
Jordan stands up and puts out a hand as the doctor opens his mouth to speak again and silences him. She walks across the old tiles and grabs the handle on the door, pulling down and pushing it open to find her bodyguards waiting for her on the outside.
Trainer: I was just going to mention you don’t have a concussion…
They say I’ve changed things. They say I’m different now. Jordan Majors? You mean that rich bitch who goes around and throws her money here and there? Yes, I’m that bitch and I spend this money like I want because I earned it. Yeah, it came from my great uncle, but I had to survive just to get to the point where the cash was in my hand. And people seem to wipe away that past like it didn’t even happen. They pretend there wasn’t a time when I was walking backstage with damn-near everything I own in my suitcase. Going show to show and making just enough to get by. That’s why I was fighting my ass off to make sure I became a star in SCW. Just because I have more resources now, they act like I’m not supposed to fight anymore. Like I’m just going to have everyone else fight my battles for me. Well, clearly, that’s not a strategy that will ever work for anyone. There’s never a person competent enough to fight for you other than yourself. So I can walk to the ring with Isaac and Hideo at my side, carrying my money and personal items and defending me when things go awry. But when it comes to the ring, I fight for me. I fight for the chaos that I want to cause. If that means hiring people to come in and refresh personal animosity than so be it.
But it’s time for people to step back and accept the truth. They are hating me for the wrong reasons. They are hating me because of what they believe I am, not because of what I actually am. I’m loaded. Deal with it. I can outbid every single one of you at every turn. Does it matter? Cry about it. The best thing about Tabula Rasa was coming home and checking social media and seeing the tears. My team burned the damn house down in Seattle and it was all because of my behind the scenes decision making. But did it matter to the masses in the locker room? No. Aaron Blackbourne wanted to focus on that fact that I didn’t make the pin for the win, or he didn’t get pinned. Ludicrous. A win is a win, and he just sounded like sour grapes. He was just bitching and hoping someone cared. But he backed it up, didn’t he? He knocked my ass out for the first time in my life. I’d never felt anything like that. I saw the video and I got a kick out of the pleasure these no-brained fans took out of watching me take that stiff shot and slumping to the floor in a heap. But that moment actually taught me a lesson. Not the lesson the pumpkin king and his kit of face paints wanted to teach me, but something new all together. I haven’t spent enough money yet. I need to spend even more. I need to focus much more on me than I have ever before. And so I began immediately.
Last week, while the rest of the cast of misfits was drinking the water in the slums of Mexico and spending half their trips on the toilet on a new weight-loss program, I was spending time on me. I went to Los Angeles and saw the stars. Attended parties and went to the beach and worked on my tan. I drank the best cocktails and tasted some of the best food California has to offer. And just as I was about to travel down south of the border, I booked it north to San Francisco and saw the sights, laughed at the realty prices and spent some time with a new friend I met there. It was… refreshing. I feel as good as I ever have. I went from down in the dumps and thinking about just calling it a night. I was this close to doing something so reckless that my career would have been over. Not even the bingo halls would have booked me. Then the lawyers called and presented me with something far better than winning the lottery ever could. I won the life lottery. But I still needed something more. I needed to get knocked out to stop and smell the roses. No, this isn’t a new personality coming out of the woman you all have loved to hate lately. This is me doubling down on myself and the actions that make me who I am. I’m focusing on what it will take to destroy everyone who stands in my way both physically and financially. But I suppose the question going forward is will it be enough? Ha, of course it will be enough. I’m Jordan Majors, and Jordan is Money baby. You don’t believe me? Just wait until you see what happens when I meet Donovan Kayl in the ring this week.
Donovan, you are like a legend in the wrestling game. In most ways, it’s an honor to be fighting you this week. It has to be my chance to prove myself after a bad few weeks. I can’t let one match be the hangover that starts a slide into oblivion. Donovan, you’ve given so much advice to so many wrestlers over the years and I can only imagine that if you take the time to respond to me you will have advice for me. It might be condescending because I am your opponent and you need to come out looking hot or tough or whatever. But for me, the advice is still appreciated. Advice is something we all get anymore. Anywhere you turn there is someone there to give you advice about how you should handle a given situation. But good advice? It’s at a premium anymore. Everyone is so full of their own crap that they just believe they have the answer to everyone else’s issues. How many people over the last several weeks have told me that my problem is that I have all of this money or that I’m too confident in myself. At Tabula Rasa I questioned why I couldn’t be the captain of my team. I was blasted my opponents and teammates alike for saying that. Why? Because they all have storied histories and I’m just the no-good rookie trying to carve her own path? What’s wrong with wanting to be the best or wanting to be the leader. Everyone says you need to wait your time and learn from the others, but no one in history has ever truly benefited from the advice of shut your mouth and wait your turn. Not the truly relevant. They fought for what they believed in. I believe I am worthy of belonging among the top in SCW.
So this week at Breakdown I will choose to stand up and fight for myself. Not because I’m rich and I could buy the ring out from your very feet, Donovan, no. Because I believe that at the end of the day Jordan Majors will be considered to among the upper echelon of the best this business has to offer. I want it so badly. I used to tell every opponent that verbally squared up with me that I would win just by outworking them because nobody could possibly bring as much grit and heart and determination as I did to that ring. I know now just how naive I was then. I will win because this is what I’ve been preparing myself for all of my life. I’m going to be a star, damnit. Nothing can stop me, and anything that tries to stop me will suffer the consequences of the full measure of my wrath that I have to offer. I might just seem like a cute little girl with blonde hair that likes to stick my tongue out and tease my enemies about their shortcomings, but in that ring I am a lioness that will hunt down and take down her prey with the full force of my strength, knowledge and prowess. I kill with all the finesse and power that those big cats bring the every showdown in the fields. And you, Donovan, one of the most wise fighters that I will ever be in a ring with… you are dead middle on my radar and I refuse to come away from this matchup with anything less than a victory.
The scene starts with light beaming through the window of a building in San Francisco. The sunlight shines across the face of a sleeping Jordan Majors who slowly opens her eyes. She sits up in the bed and turns around to see no one laying there behind her. Turning back her eyes search the floor and find a t-shirt lying nearby. She reaches down and snatches the shirt and pulls it over her head to cover her bare chest. She turns to the window letting in that morning light and saunters over. She puts her hand up on the window and leans on her elbow as she looks out over the city and takes in the sight of the large area. A soft sigh escapes her as a pair of arms wrap around her waist and a chin rests on her left shoulder.
Girl: That’s quite a view isn’t it?
Jordan smiles and turns her head to look at the girl, nodding and leaving her face there. Her trip had taken an unexpected turn when she planned to invade the Mexico show, but then thought better of it and came to this city instead, There were no regrets on her part. Perhaps a move that brash would not have served her as well as she had hoped. Her right hand moves up and sweeps a few strands of her blond-dyed hair behind her right ear before she turned to face the window and the busy world that lived on the other side of it. She wondered what it would be like when she dared to step back out into that world and dared to step back into the ring. She would surely be back in the ring by next week. She knew the last thing she could do was let the event of getting knocked out be something that sticks with her to the level that it holds her back from what is surely a future of career success and riches. It was one thing to have all of this money, but what she really wanted was to be successful in the ring. Few people could understand that she wasn’t just some simpleton that wanted to throw hands as a side job while the money continued to grow off the perfectly made investments that she didn’t even have a hand in. The arms around her release and hands go to hold her waist as the head raises off of her shoulder.
Girl: I looked around this morning and I didn’t see a gift basket. What’s up with that? I kind of wanted to see what was in those legendary gifts.
Jordan: I didn’t bring the boys with me.
Girl: The boys? You mean those security guys?
Jordan: My gift basket carriers… it’s just me here.
Girl: I’m not even sure how to take that. Should I feel special.
Jordan: Just caught me at the right time I suppose. I’ll have them send you something eventually.
The girl and Jordan giggled together, but Jordan’s laugh fades off swiftly as she turns and leans her back against the window and studies the room. Clothing thrown about and sheets barely hanging in place on the bed. This was the life she seemed to live. It wasn’t always fulfilling, but it managed to be mostly pleasing. There was a time life was so different, and it wasn’t even that long ago. She takes a deep breath and looks for where her phone might be. Surprisingly, it’s right there sitting perfectly on the bedside table. Amidst all that chaos, this part of her life seemed to stay neat and tidy. Her phone was more of a business accessory than something so personal. An alert shows on her screen. An email from SCW. She grins as she looks at it.
Girl: You’re booked. I guess that means you’ll be leaving then?
Jordan walks back over to the girl and stands next to her, looking her in the eyes for a moment before turning and looking back out at the city in an almost heroic way. It was an ironic pose considering the girl had been much more villainous over the past month than ever before.
Jordan: I was never destined to stay that long anyways.
Jordan turns back and starts to gather her things from the floor of the room, picking up each piece of clothing and placing them in a suitcase on the floor. The suitcase already full from the trip to Los Angeles. The detour here came at the last minute, but it was the last thing she needed to fully reset her mind before she headed off to rejoin the locker room for the build up to Taking Hold of the Flame and, of course, the ultimate show that lived beyond it.
Girl: So what’s next?
Jordan: I haven’t fulfilled my destiny yet. But soon enough, I will. I will make my mark in SCW. And it will be lasting.
She grins ear to ear as she walks out the front door or the loft and leaves the girl and the city behind. And the scene fades to black.
Trainer: Welp hun, you just got the lights knocked out of you. That man hit you right on the side of your head. Whole dang world watched those eyes of yours roll back. Gave them all a scare I’m sure.
Jordan lets out a long sigh as her head turns back to the ceiling, counting those divots as if they were stars in the sky. She didn’t remember being knocked out to be anything like those fabled cartoons, showing the stars swirling around above her head. No, it was more like a sudden blackout. Like someone shut the electricity off in her head. And now she was here, with this stinky old man who acted like he cared more than anyone else she knew. Where was Isaac? Where was Hideo? They no doubt carried her back here running away like cowards. The bank had convinced her to hire them. Were they really bodyguards or buffed up bankers?
Jordan: I feel fine.
Trainer: Well, we will run you through a few tests to make sure you don’t have a concussion and once we clear you, you’re good to go. I did go ahead and have them pull you from the next show though.
Jordan: What the hell? Why would you do that?
Trainer: Because I’m here to look after your health and the health of the other fighters. You don’t don anyone anything but a disservice by climbing back in there when your head isn’t right.
Jordan shook her head and felt the cold steel of the table touch the left and right sides of the back of her scalp. How dare this man was the only thought that came to her mind. What did she accomplish by sitting on the sidelines. What the hell was she supposed to do while the rest of the crew was going to… where were they going again?
Trainer: So, no, you won’t be going to Mexico this week. Concussed or not.
Mexico!? No trip to Mexico!? And that was one she was looking forward to. She’d even gotten a nice red, white and blue outfit made to make sure everyone down south of the border hated her guts when she paraded the colors from up north down to the ring. She was even going to have those two idiots lead a USA chant. Now, all of those plans were over. And instead she was staring at this ceiling, this stupid tiled ceiling. Reaching to each side, Jordan grips the table and slowly pulls herself up to a seated position.
Trainer: Woah, careful!
She sits up and now looks down at the floor. More tiles. Can this room be any whiter? She shakes her head as the trainer moves closer and begins to put her through a series of tests. They all mean something in the long run but she is unconsciously responding to his questions and cues. She’s pissed. Deep down, she’s even angrier. Something about missing this trip just doesn’t feel right to her. And to think it comes at the hands of someone essentially fighting for revenge. It was sickening. She’s disgusted at him and at this doctor. She imagines herself in Mexico having a margarita while Abigail rides up on her bike and grabs a beer. Wait, that isn’t right. Why is Abi driving in Mexico? What’s happening in her head right now. She shakes her head and the visualization dissipates into nothingness. Just more disappointment.
Trainer: You know, you all don’t get too many breaks throughout the year. You might want to take the week off to recover.
Recover from what? She felt fine and she definitely didn’t feel like taking any time off was going to make her feel any better. Well screw it, maybe she will take some time and go to LA or something. What did everyone else know about her health. The next 30 minutes were all a blur of boredom. She wasn’t used to being forced to sit so still and wait. She was the type to burst through doorways and elevate the smallest get togethers to the biggest parties. She was the type to escalate meeting someone to a casual encounter. No little head injury was going to take that away from her.
Trainer: Well, it looks like you…
Jordan: You know what, doc, I think I will take this next week off. I will go to Los Angeles and I will remind people why I am a star and why my star is rapidly rising at a rate they’ve never seen before I will spend it refreshing and invigorating the woman that was put on this planet to be an absolute machine in that ring. One that refuses to let anyone or anything stop her. And that includes you. Please, sir, get yourself a toothbrush and fixes your teeth and that terrible breath. I will buy it for you if you can’t afford it. You need it. This locker room needs you to need it. We want it. Do it. Please.
Jordan stands up and puts out a hand as the doctor opens his mouth to speak again and silences him. She walks across the old tiles and grabs the handle on the door, pulling down and pushing it open to find her bodyguards waiting for her on the outside.
Trainer: I was just going to mention you don’t have a concussion…
They say I’ve changed things. They say I’m different now. Jordan Majors? You mean that rich bitch who goes around and throws her money here and there? Yes, I’m that bitch and I spend this money like I want because I earned it. Yeah, it came from my great uncle, but I had to survive just to get to the point where the cash was in my hand. And people seem to wipe away that past like it didn’t even happen. They pretend there wasn’t a time when I was walking backstage with damn-near everything I own in my suitcase. Going show to show and making just enough to get by. That’s why I was fighting my ass off to make sure I became a star in SCW. Just because I have more resources now, they act like I’m not supposed to fight anymore. Like I’m just going to have everyone else fight my battles for me. Well, clearly, that’s not a strategy that will ever work for anyone. There’s never a person competent enough to fight for you other than yourself. So I can walk to the ring with Isaac and Hideo at my side, carrying my money and personal items and defending me when things go awry. But when it comes to the ring, I fight for me. I fight for the chaos that I want to cause. If that means hiring people to come in and refresh personal animosity than so be it.
But it’s time for people to step back and accept the truth. They are hating me for the wrong reasons. They are hating me because of what they believe I am, not because of what I actually am. I’m loaded. Deal with it. I can outbid every single one of you at every turn. Does it matter? Cry about it. The best thing about Tabula Rasa was coming home and checking social media and seeing the tears. My team burned the damn house down in Seattle and it was all because of my behind the scenes decision making. But did it matter to the masses in the locker room? No. Aaron Blackbourne wanted to focus on that fact that I didn’t make the pin for the win, or he didn’t get pinned. Ludicrous. A win is a win, and he just sounded like sour grapes. He was just bitching and hoping someone cared. But he backed it up, didn’t he? He knocked my ass out for the first time in my life. I’d never felt anything like that. I saw the video and I got a kick out of the pleasure these no-brained fans took out of watching me take that stiff shot and slumping to the floor in a heap. But that moment actually taught me a lesson. Not the lesson the pumpkin king and his kit of face paints wanted to teach me, but something new all together. I haven’t spent enough money yet. I need to spend even more. I need to focus much more on me than I have ever before. And so I began immediately.
Last week, while the rest of the cast of misfits was drinking the water in the slums of Mexico and spending half their trips on the toilet on a new weight-loss program, I was spending time on me. I went to Los Angeles and saw the stars. Attended parties and went to the beach and worked on my tan. I drank the best cocktails and tasted some of the best food California has to offer. And just as I was about to travel down south of the border, I booked it north to San Francisco and saw the sights, laughed at the realty prices and spent some time with a new friend I met there. It was… refreshing. I feel as good as I ever have. I went from down in the dumps and thinking about just calling it a night. I was this close to doing something so reckless that my career would have been over. Not even the bingo halls would have booked me. Then the lawyers called and presented me with something far better than winning the lottery ever could. I won the life lottery. But I still needed something more. I needed to get knocked out to stop and smell the roses. No, this isn’t a new personality coming out of the woman you all have loved to hate lately. This is me doubling down on myself and the actions that make me who I am. I’m focusing on what it will take to destroy everyone who stands in my way both physically and financially. But I suppose the question going forward is will it be enough? Ha, of course it will be enough. I’m Jordan Majors, and Jordan is Money baby. You don’t believe me? Just wait until you see what happens when I meet Donovan Kayl in the ring this week.
Donovan, you are like a legend in the wrestling game. In most ways, it’s an honor to be fighting you this week. It has to be my chance to prove myself after a bad few weeks. I can’t let one match be the hangover that starts a slide into oblivion. Donovan, you’ve given so much advice to so many wrestlers over the years and I can only imagine that if you take the time to respond to me you will have advice for me. It might be condescending because I am your opponent and you need to come out looking hot or tough or whatever. But for me, the advice is still appreciated. Advice is something we all get anymore. Anywhere you turn there is someone there to give you advice about how you should handle a given situation. But good advice? It’s at a premium anymore. Everyone is so full of their own crap that they just believe they have the answer to everyone else’s issues. How many people over the last several weeks have told me that my problem is that I have all of this money or that I’m too confident in myself. At Tabula Rasa I questioned why I couldn’t be the captain of my team. I was blasted my opponents and teammates alike for saying that. Why? Because they all have storied histories and I’m just the no-good rookie trying to carve her own path? What’s wrong with wanting to be the best or wanting to be the leader. Everyone says you need to wait your time and learn from the others, but no one in history has ever truly benefited from the advice of shut your mouth and wait your turn. Not the truly relevant. They fought for what they believed in. I believe I am worthy of belonging among the top in SCW.
So this week at Breakdown I will choose to stand up and fight for myself. Not because I’m rich and I could buy the ring out from your very feet, Donovan, no. Because I believe that at the end of the day Jordan Majors will be considered to among the upper echelon of the best this business has to offer. I want it so badly. I used to tell every opponent that verbally squared up with me that I would win just by outworking them because nobody could possibly bring as much grit and heart and determination as I did to that ring. I know now just how naive I was then. I will win because this is what I’ve been preparing myself for all of my life. I’m going to be a star, damnit. Nothing can stop me, and anything that tries to stop me will suffer the consequences of the full measure of my wrath that I have to offer. I might just seem like a cute little girl with blonde hair that likes to stick my tongue out and tease my enemies about their shortcomings, but in that ring I am a lioness that will hunt down and take down her prey with the full force of my strength, knowledge and prowess. I kill with all the finesse and power that those big cats bring the every showdown in the fields. And you, Donovan, one of the most wise fighters that I will ever be in a ring with… you are dead middle on my radar and I refuse to come away from this matchup with anything less than a victory.
The scene starts with light beaming through the window of a building in San Francisco. The sunlight shines across the face of a sleeping Jordan Majors who slowly opens her eyes. She sits up in the bed and turns around to see no one laying there behind her. Turning back her eyes search the floor and find a t-shirt lying nearby. She reaches down and snatches the shirt and pulls it over her head to cover her bare chest. She turns to the window letting in that morning light and saunters over. She puts her hand up on the window and leans on her elbow as she looks out over the city and takes in the sight of the large area. A soft sigh escapes her as a pair of arms wrap around her waist and a chin rests on her left shoulder.
Girl: That’s quite a view isn’t it?
Jordan smiles and turns her head to look at the girl, nodding and leaving her face there. Her trip had taken an unexpected turn when she planned to invade the Mexico show, but then thought better of it and came to this city instead, There were no regrets on her part. Perhaps a move that brash would not have served her as well as she had hoped. Her right hand moves up and sweeps a few strands of her blond-dyed hair behind her right ear before she turned to face the window and the busy world that lived on the other side of it. She wondered what it would be like when she dared to step back out into that world and dared to step back into the ring. She would surely be back in the ring by next week. She knew the last thing she could do was let the event of getting knocked out be something that sticks with her to the level that it holds her back from what is surely a future of career success and riches. It was one thing to have all of this money, but what she really wanted was to be successful in the ring. Few people could understand that she wasn’t just some simpleton that wanted to throw hands as a side job while the money continued to grow off the perfectly made investments that she didn’t even have a hand in. The arms around her release and hands go to hold her waist as the head raises off of her shoulder.
Girl: I looked around this morning and I didn’t see a gift basket. What’s up with that? I kind of wanted to see what was in those legendary gifts.
Jordan: I didn’t bring the boys with me.
Girl: The boys? You mean those security guys?
Jordan: My gift basket carriers… it’s just me here.
Girl: I’m not even sure how to take that. Should I feel special.
Jordan: Just caught me at the right time I suppose. I’ll have them send you something eventually.
The girl and Jordan giggled together, but Jordan’s laugh fades off swiftly as she turns and leans her back against the window and studies the room. Clothing thrown about and sheets barely hanging in place on the bed. This was the life she seemed to live. It wasn’t always fulfilling, but it managed to be mostly pleasing. There was a time life was so different, and it wasn’t even that long ago. She takes a deep breath and looks for where her phone might be. Surprisingly, it’s right there sitting perfectly on the bedside table. Amidst all that chaos, this part of her life seemed to stay neat and tidy. Her phone was more of a business accessory than something so personal. An alert shows on her screen. An email from SCW. She grins as she looks at it.
Girl: You’re booked. I guess that means you’ll be leaving then?
Jordan walks back over to the girl and stands next to her, looking her in the eyes for a moment before turning and looking back out at the city in an almost heroic way. It was an ironic pose considering the girl had been much more villainous over the past month than ever before.
Jordan: I was never destined to stay that long anyways.
Jordan turns back and starts to gather her things from the floor of the room, picking up each piece of clothing and placing them in a suitcase on the floor. The suitcase already full from the trip to Los Angeles. The detour here came at the last minute, but it was the last thing she needed to fully reset her mind before she headed off to rejoin the locker room for the build up to Taking Hold of the Flame and, of course, the ultimate show that lived beyond it.
Girl: So what’s next?
Jordan: I haven’t fulfilled my destiny yet. But soon enough, I will. I will make my mark in SCW. And it will be lasting.
She grins ear to ear as she walks out the front door or the loft and leaves the girl and the city behind. And the scene fades to black.