05-28-2019, 03:05 PM
The sun comes up over Los Angeles and peeks into the window of a beaten down Kia Sorrento. A woman in the backseat leans up and shields her eyes with her hoodie covered arm. She groans and turns on to her side, and then her stomach and stares at the ground. After a few minutes, the brown-haired woman pushes herself up to a seated position and looks out the window as some traffic passes in the distance. There’s a knock on the opposite side window and she swiftly turns back and blocks out the sun as she tries to block it out.
Cop: LAPD. Could you please step out of the car?
The woman lets out a long sigh and scoots across the seat. She reaches for the handle and throws the door open. Cautiously, the officer places his hand on top of his holstered weapon. She starts to emerge quicker than he’d like.
Cop: Easy now! Hands where I can see them.
The woman shows the slightest bit of fright as she throws both hands up from the elbow with her arms out to the side. The cop, a tall african-american man with a mustache, shakes his head and waves his arm to tell her to drop her arms back down. She quickly complies and looks around the mostly empty area to try and figure out what she might be in trouble for.
Cop: You got any kind of ID on you?
The woman again holds one arm up as she looks at the cop and reaches slowly into a pocket of the sweats she wore. The cop examined her as she did. Her hair was a mess and she looked like she’d seen better days. He was shocked still that she seemed to be in decent physical shape despite the fact she appeared to be living in a car. His mind of course went through all the basics. Was she homeless? A battered woman on the run? A petty criminal in hiding?His observations seemed to indicate at least one of these three. He could tell she wasn’t digging for a gun. Maybe a knife, but hopefully just identification. When she produced a rectangular piece of paper from her pocket, he sighed quietly in relief and reached out to take it. He studied the plastic covered piece of paper closely and looked back and forth between it and the woman who stood in front of him.
Cop: Long way from Nebraska, Miss… Kylie J. Majors. What brings you out to these parts.
The woman scoffed and shook her head.
Kylie: I guess I’m not sure anymore. I was wrestling for a few months. Maybe you’ve heard of it…
Cop: Like professional wrestling? The stuff they do at the Olympics? You? That’s kind of hard to imagine. No offense, hun.
Kylie: No. no. no… like bright lights, square ring, loud music, big moves wrestling. The kind of stuff you can see weekly on television and monthly on pay per view.
The cop said nothing for a moment and then nodded. It explained the physique. It still didn’t explain what she was doing here in this abandoned parking lot, sleeping in a car. He let those ideas stew in his head for a moment and then nodded again.
Cop: Ah, so you must’ve been pretty shit then, huh? I mean even if you didn’t get paid that much, those people travel all year and stay in hotels when they aren’t at home. And you’re living in a car. Must be pretty embarrassing when you tell the other wrestlers. What company are you with? Something local?
Kylie: Uh, not exactly. Something more national. SCW?
Cop: No shit. That’s big stuff. Now you’ve got me questioning whether or not you’re pulling my leg. Say, do you know that girl Sienna? She’s hot as all get out. For the people, am I right? Damn, I’d love to get a picture with her to hang in my locker down at the station. She’s just a smokeshow, for real. So what has you here?
Kylie: Uhh, I mean what has you here?
Cop: I’m here on a 647 G. Someone called in an unknown vehicle on their property and thought they saw someone living in it. Basically, this place might look like an abandoned shit hole, but it’s someone else’s abandoned shit hole and they don’t want you here. You’ve got to get your stuff together and drive on out of here or I’ll have to get the handcuffs out and take you downtown.
Kylie: What if we wrestle over it?
Cop: M’am. Are you threatening an officer with violence? Are you trying to bribe me? I could arrest you for either. I don’t even need a good excuse. You are insane. We’re not wrestling.
Kylie: Seriously. I could make it feel like you’re wrestling Sienna.
Cop: Ok, holdup. For one, that came across vaguely sexual and look at you. You look like you crawled out of a dumpster. And secondly, you look like you crawled out of a dumpster and there’s no way anyone would confuse you and Sienna. Get real girl. Now get your stuff and go.
Kylie: Well then take me to your place and I’ll clean up.
Cop: You’re getting really damn close to making me arrest you for prostitution the way you’re throwing yourself at me.
Kylie: Get bent sausage head. You’ve got way too much meat for me. Let’s just say I eat vegan.
Cop: You are one weird ass girl.
Kylie sighs deeply and shakes her head before muttering: You have no idea.
Both stand silently for a moment before the cop gestures to her car and she walks toward it with her head down. She looks back with the saddest face and eyes the cop had seen. Like the ones he’d seen on some children at the scenes of domestic disputes. He shook his head and started walking over as she opened her door and stepped into her car. He stopped the door before she could close it and leaned down.
Cop: Listen, I don’t know what your deal is, but I know a place you could stay and a place you could keep dreaming. You seem persistent. You’re still in shape so God knows what you’ve been doing out in the streets to keep from losing your shape. Here…
The cop digs a rectangular piece of paper out of his top pocket and a pen. He writes down an address and hands it and her ID back to her.
Cop: Meet me there later tonight. Don’t let me see you back here.
The cop walks away and leaves as Kylie starts her car and sits behind the wheel, staring at the address on the piece of paper. Twelve hours later, she pulls up outside of a house and parks along the curb. She stares suspiciously at the house for some time before getting out of the car and walking up a sidewalk that led to the front door. She pushes a button and a buzzer sounds inside and outside of the house. She can hear footsteps on the inside and then a deadbolt sliding unlocked before the door opens to reveal a short, african american woman with braided hair. She smiles and opens the door.
Shondra: Oh! Robert said to expect you. He’s my big brother! Well little, but he’s so damn tall, right?
Kylie nods and follows the woman as she’s waved into the home and down a hallway.
Shondra: We’ve got a room all set up for you. And just down the street is a great gym. I have the space so you can stay with Robert and I until you’re back on your feet. We’ll need rent to cover the housing costs and the food, and we’ll expect you to pay us. Even if it’s later. Even much later.
Kylie: I don’t get this. Why are you doing this? You two don’t even know me.
Shondra: Sure we do. You’re Jordan Majors. We saw you at the big New Years show on SCW. When you debuted there. You were fantastic. My brother and I really loved your passion and charisma. Our family has a soft spot for wrestling. We watched it with our dad growing up. And once my bro knew for sure you wouldn’t be hitting on him if you stayed with us. He was fine making the call.
Jordan shakes her head and her eyes go wide at hearing that information.
Shondra: Either way, you settle into your room and I’m just cooking some dinner. Robert will be off of his shift any moment now and then we can all shit down and get to know more about you. It’s so exciting! A professional wrestler right here in my house!!
Shondra walks off and leaves Jordan who walks into the small room and looks around. She flips on the light and shuts the door behind her as she scans the room. There’s a twin-sized bed with a small table and a lamp next to it. In the corner, next to a closet is a desk and a chair. She opens the closet and looks inside to see it is full of storage items. Totes and old clothes wrapped in plastic. She closes the door and sits down at the desk. In front of her is a pad of paper and a pen. Written on the sheet is “Items for the homeless chick.” She lets out a soft, somewhat pathetic laugh and rips off the piece and sets it aside. Staring at the blank piece she puts the pen to paper and writes: Dear mom. A short montage shows Jordan training with Robert and spending time with Shondra over the next three weeks. It appears they have developed a bond between the three of them. Jordan is shown laying in her twin bed with her hands at her side when her cell phone rings. She lets it ring through twice before turning and picking it up. The number unknown. She answers.
Jordan: Hello?
Caller: This is Nick Cheatum from the prestigious law firm of Dewey, Cheatum, Howe. Is this Kylie Majors?
Jordan: Uhh, yes it is.
Caller: M’am, we have you named as the benefactor of a will we just uncovered this morning. We need you to visit our offices here as soon as possible.
Jordan: I’m sorry, what? Who died!?
Caller: It’s your uncle m’am. And he left you a lot of money. You’re about to be an extremely wealthy woman. How soon can you be at our offices?
Jordan brings the phone down into her lap and looks straight ahead. The room spins and she ponders whether or not this is some kind of prank meant to demean her. But she goes along with it.
Jordan: Yeah, I’ll be there as soon as I can.
Jordan stands up and collects herself before looking out the window. About 30 minutes later, Shondra knocks on the door, but doesn’t get an answer. She knocks again and reaches for the handle and pushes the door into the room. The bed is neatly made and all the items of the girl she’d come to know the last three weeks are gone. In a bit of a panic, Shondra turns and runs to the front door and swings it open. The broken down Kia is gone. The girl is gone. She slowly closes the door and walks to the kitchen to retrieve her phone. She clicks a few buttons on the screen and holds the phone to her head for a few moments of silence.
Shondra: Robert… she’s gone… I don’t know. Everything is just gone.
The scene transitions to a long hall of a seemingly abandoned building that has fire damage on its walls and ceilings. Slowly we come closer to a person sitting in a charred up chair with a worn metal crown on her head. Jordan Majors leans forward from the broken-down throne and grins before leaning back and crossing her arms.
They say money is the root of all evil, or at least someone said that once. He must not’ve had very much money. Or maybe the problem was he had too much, more than he could handle. I don’t really think the same can be said for me. Did I inherit more money than I could ever imagine dealing with? Yes, I did. But I also inherited a new found confidence that came with it. And not a single person can look at that and say nothing good has come out of it. Just a few months ago I was lost. Some people have chosen to use my time in the shadows as something to point to in a bad way. They want to say I stepped away because I couldn’t cut it here. Maybe there is some truth in that. But here’s what I know. I care, and I care hard. I care too much sometimes. I didn’t like myself. I didn’t like what I was producing night in and night out. It just felt off. It felt wrong. I didn’t just want to walk away from SCW for a bit. I was thinking of just walking away from it all. Then there was a phone call.
Jordan reaches up and brings the crown down into her hands and holds it, looking at it closely and examining it as she continues. Slowly she rotates the piece of metal between her hands.
That phone call brought with it things I could have never imagined would happen with my life. There was an uncle I didn’t know existed. And he had wealth I couldn’t fathom. And he was leaving it to me. It all sounded like a fairy tale. But I don’t believe in children’s stories because I’m a realist and I’m not 4 years old. My imagination wasn’t built to comprehend the feel good story that is blank check. Here was everything bit of cash I needed to buy a castle, put a race track in the back yard and play the next line of video games inside all night. That’s just not me. I answered that call from the back seat of my car. As in where I was living. That’s all I had left. The car I saved up countless checks of working at a fast food restaurant in Nebraska to be able to afford to leave that state and move on. I used what little I had left to pay my way into a wrestling school and hone the skills I’d been getting by with on the local school and bingo hall circuits that wanted a pretty face with a little spunk. But over time I know I went stale.
Still looking at her crown, Jordan stands and paces toward the middle of the burnt up room.
Passion started to seep out of what I had to give. I love the ring, don’t get me wrong. But I was working so hard to survive on the outside, that I didn’t have enough to give back on the inside. When someone tells you they’re willing to give it all in the ring, that’s what they were truly getting from me. It was all I had left. It was all I could give. I became moody and depressed. I pushed away anyone who tried to get close to me and shut myself out from family and friends I’d let in in the past. I was truly alone. Inheriting that money proved to me that I was valuable. Not because there was now a dollar amount next to my name, but because someone thought enough of me to leave me everything he ever earned. Even if it was with the throw of a dart, he picked me. Fate picked me. And fate was standing right there and picking me up by the boot straps and telling me to be who I wanted to be.
Jordan snaps the crown in half in her hands after some effort. Suddenly, everything goes from dark and dull to bright and colorful. The room looks fresh and renewed. What were once raggedy torn clothes on Jordan’s body are suddenly replaced with a fancy, designer dress. And in her hands is a bright golden crown. She turns and looks back at the chair, which is now adorned in silk fabrics and surrounded by two knights in full armor. She begins walking back that direction.
That’s why I marched off to a salon and dyed this hair blonde and started wearing an entirely new outfit that even the Beauty Factory friends of mine probably look down on and scoff at. Who wrestles in suspenders, right? I just did what felt like me. Surrounded myself with people who wanted to be around me. Maybe those people don’t all mesh right, but it felt right to me. It got me back in the right state of mind and now I’m looking at Taking Hold of the Flame and I recognize that it is the biggest match my young career has seen to date. I’m genuinely over the moon for the opportunity to compete in the match. For everything I’ve said about being a predator, this is my chance to really show it. It’s everyone against each other. It’s everyone against me. The top predator has to be strong enough to overcome, even when she’s the one being hunted. And I’ve even been singled out by the top brass where this match is concerned. They don’t want nasty old Jordan pulling a fast one on them and using her hired resources to change the outcome of the match. Well don’t worry Sasha, the dogs will stay in their kennel and behave like the good, well-paid boys they are. Maybe that’s where the should stay for the long haul. I don’t think euthanasia is an option. I was even told that might be considered murder or something. Whatever, I don’t keep track of those types of legal issues.
Reaching the throne, Jordan turns and sits back down. The crown in her hands, she lifts it slowly and places it atop her head, looking straight forward.
Sasha can dictate what happens with those boys all she wants, but she can’t dictate what I choose to do with the rest of my resources. The one I seemingly have an unlimited amount of. This weekend I want everyone to be aware of a special plan I’m offering to those good boys and girls who know where their place in this world truly is. When Jordan Majors is in the ring, eliminate yourself for me. If you do this, I will give you $100,000. I’ve looked up and down the rules for this match and I don’t see anywhere that states you can’t bribe people to eliminate themselves. I would greatly appreciate it, respect it, and reward it. I’m a woman of my word. Just ask SCW and Cookie. She begged for the chance to host this event and she never heard another word. So I took to Twitter and used my voice to flash the power of money. At Taking Hold of the Flame I will be presenting Cookie with a check in her name to a charity that I have chosen. I will be announcing it at the show, but that’s $1 million to what I promise is a very deserving charity. I’ll be bringing the big party check and balloons and everything. It’s going to be a blast, I assure you. In fact, this whole show is shaping up to be a great one if you like to see me around.
Jordan leans forward in her throne and puts her chin on her hand, which rests on her knee. She gives a sly grin and continues.
This is a match made for someone like me to thrive in. I just told you my pain staking journey to get to this point. I was living in a car, as a professional wrestler. I was dealing with the debt of my own and of family that couldn’t get by without me. I paid those debts. I rose to the top via the death of an unknown uncle. I turned that moment into something that turned it all around. I hit the restart button and reignited the fire within me. It’s something that everyone should do given the chance. Do it as many times as needed. It has worked wonders for me, and it will work even more in the very near future. I’m heading into this match knowing in my heart that I’m more of a survivor than any other who dares enter this event along with me. Everyone will tell their own sob stories about near-death events, relationships that ended, tough medical times and consistent failure. I’m here to tell you I did a 180 with my life and with my mental state. It was over for me once upon a time, but now I have a chance to make history. Do something no one sees coming. No one believes I can do this, and that’s exactly why I will. They’re counting me out before the match starts. Every single one of these people is looking at the known competitors in this match and treating me like a speed bump the cross in order to get to the end. But I’m far worse than that. I’m that thing in the parking garage that comes up and rips your tires to shreds when you back into it unsuspectingly. You didn’t even know I was there, but then I completely ruin your day. Boo hoo. Maybe next year, kids. This one is made for Jordan Majors’ star to shine.
Jordan looks at one of the knights and gives a wink and a nod and turns back to address once more. The knight returns and hands her a golden torch.
Maybe I’m not in the Beauty Factory and maybe I haven’t achieved something in the past that everyone feels the need to ooh and ahh about. I don’t have a doll or a fancy hashtag for social media. I don’t ride a motorcycle or say edgy things to sound cooler than the rest. But I’m authentically me, and it’s going to be more than enough to authentically win the whole damn show when I raise that flame in the end. It’s just a damn shame that everyone and their stupid dogs were so quick to write me off and not take me seriously. Tsk tsk, don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Jordan brings the torch down in front of her face, smiles, and blows out the fire. The scene quickly transitions to a partly cloudy night sky filled with clouds. A nice car with rental stickers is parked in the lot of a diner along a not too busy highway. The thud of boots smacking the pavement is heard as a woman walks up and leans against the back door of the car. The scene pans out to show the woman as Abigail Lindsay, settled against the rental next to Jordan Majors.
Abigail: Are you about ready for your big moment you keep talking about?
Abigail smirks as she looks to the girl, knowing it will elicit a smile. Jordan does smile, and blushes softly before turning to look over at her.
Jordan: You know I am. This is what I’ve been dreaming of all of my life. I have the confidence. I have the resources. I have the skill. I have everything I need to shock the whole damn world and come away from this thing holding the flame in my possession. I know I have it. There was a time not that long ago that I thought I knew, but I was blinded by my own personal issues. My mind is so much clearer now. The direction is clearly marked in front of me. I know what I have to do in order to win this. I know the lengths I have to take my body to…
Abigail: That sounds almost… perilous? I think hanging around me has rubbed you the wrong way. You’re becoming just as addicted to chaos as I am.
Jordan: Tick, tock. Right?
Both women share a laugh as Jordan turns her body to face Abigail.
Jordan: What about you? Still waiting for your chance to conquer all your foes to get to Ravyn?
Abigail: I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. Remember when I said I didn’t want you getting involved?
Jordan: Of course I do. You know I’d be willing to do whatever it takes to help you with this.
Abigail: Well… you now have my permission to help.
Jordan turns her head to the side and narrows her eyes in a confused glance. Abigail picks up on it quickly and turns to face Jordan as well.
Abigail: The landscape has changed. Ace is out of the picture. We’ve talked about that. But there’s still pieces that need to fall, obstacles that are standing in the way. We’re in the end game now. And I could use the help if you’re willing.
Jordan stays silent for a moment and raises an eye as one half of her lip raises in a sideways grin, too.
Jordan: Somehow I knew this would happen. Count me in. But, just a reminder, the dogs are in the kennel right now. You’re just getting me.
Abigail: I’m not asking for them.
Abigail takes a step closer and stands chest to chest with Jordan, looking slightly down to her and smiling.
Abigail: I’m only asking for you.
Jordan bites her lip and nods her head as Abigail steps back and looks at the girl before her. In the ring Jordan was all flash and brat. Sometimes she was out of the ring, too. But in moments, like now, she could see the girl that existed there before the money. It always made her curious. But the two women enjoyed their little moments together on the road. It made things more interesting.
Abigail: That reminds me. Since we’re talking about alliances… what gives with the Beauty Factory?
Jordan: Mutual admiration.
Abigail: Oh, come on. There’s nothing further you can let me in on?
Jordan: Isn’t it obvious? Just like you’re trying to move pieces to the right places on the board for your own personal gain, each of us are doing the same. I’m not a part of them, but I can see the benefits of attrition by subtraction. If we can gain a mental edge over others and they think seeing us means we’re going to be causing problems, then we have an edge no one else could even predict.
Abigail shakes her head and crosses her arms as she stares at the girl.
Abigail: You really amaze me sometimes.
Jordan: I know.
Abigail: No, I mean, you realize how much you are capable of on your own? You’re always bringing in the bodyguards that aren’t even that good. Now you’re siding with the Beauty Factory and I’m sure you can figure out that this is about them using you.
Jordan rolls her eyes momentarily and rolls sideways to lean her back against the front door of the car. Abigail reaches out and grabs her and turns her back.
Abigail: I’m not trying to piss you off. I’m just telling you that at some point when you say you have a lot of confidence in yourself, you need to prove it. Show us. Show me. Show yourself. I know you are capable of being a one-woman chaos machine this weekend. I’ve seen you putting aside all of the parties and clubs and just hitting the gym like a maniac. I think most people are seeing that this week. You can do this. I know what you are capable of. That’s why I’m willing to let you join in my own crusade.
Jordan stares into Abigail’s eyes for a moment before turning to look off into the stars. She slowly seems to compose herself and turns back.
Jordan: It’s not easy.
Abigail: It’s also not that hard. You have to make those decisions for you. Make sure they benefit you.
Jordan nods and places her elbow on top of the car to lean to a side.
Jordan: Alright. I’m going to do it. I’m going to walk into Taking Hold of the Flame and I’m going to walk out brighter than ever because that flame will be in my hand. It’s going to be historic for the business. The unheralded rookie of SCW that rose through the ranks and proved everyone wrong.
Abigail: Prove yourself wrong. Erase all those doubts.
Jordan: You’re right. The key has been there all along. I didn’t need all this money and the bodyguards and the style changes in order to be ready to win this. From the day I entered this company the key was right there in front of my eyes. It’s you.
Abigail turns her head now, giving Jordan a surprised and confused glance as the scene focuses on the stars above and fades out. It fades back in to Jordan wearing a hooded sweatshirt and pacing back and forth in a hotel room. A camera catches action as she moves in front of the window and light can be seen just seeping in around the edges of the curtain. Jordan steps up on the bed and sits down cross-legged and stares straight toward the camera.
You know what bothers me sometimes about this place. The idea that the upper echelon is just already set in stone. Someone like me? I’m treated like some sort of a sideshow or a piece for the crowd to laugh at when things go wrong for me. They want to mock me for being the pretty little rich girl that can’t hold her own? Try it. Just try it and see what happens when I rise above your expectations for me and I ruin your days and nights. There are many people in this match that believe they have a chance to be standing there at the end. That no matter what surprise person or named person that enters this match, it won’t be enough to affect them and their chances to win. Not one person wants to believe Jordan Majors has more than a chance in hell to make noise in this match. For so many of you, I’m just a silly little gimmick. But this silly little bitch isn’t here to know her role and accept it. I’m here to break down the walls you put up around me and shatter those expectations. SCW didn’t sign me to come in and lay down on the ground and eat pins so it’s top talent could continue to stand on top of the world. They brought me in to mix up the game and cause a little chaos in whatever match I touch. They brought me in to see me kick the door down to that upper group and stake my own flag into the ground. And I very much intend to do exactly that at Taking Hold of the Flame.
Jordan folds her hands together in her lap and leans forward.
What you have to do first is ask yourself this question: what does it mean to be the best? A lot of people here believe they are the best in this business. But are they really? Is it possible that the best has yet to rise to the top? That pathetic old saying in wrestling is that the cream always rises to the top. Well does it rise when a horde of people are frantically stirring the drink as fast as it can to try and mix it in among the rest? That’s what I’m trying to get at here. There are people here who know their places are safe. That’s why they don’t see me as a threat. From the day I stepped through the doors I was brushed aside by my peers. Too small. Not strong enough. Not talented enough. They took the bar for me, the one I set up at the top, and they chopped it down from the sky and placed it at floor level. Those are the expectations they have for me, that I’ll just be a two-bit player that makes an appearance in the background and then slides to the side so they can win as it’s designed to go, right? When I was just living in a car and staring out the window every day, I was in a mind set where people like that could set my expectations and I would just accept it. I would just cower off to the side and hide and only show up when my name is called. I’m not content with taking that role anymore. I don’t want to be the supporting actress. I want to be the star. From the day I was signed I made it clear that I intended to make sure my star rose as high as anyone else’s. Before the money I wanted to rise that star. After the money, I want it even more. You’ll hear me say over and over that the cash simply doesn’t define me. It refined me. It opened my eyes to the world of possibilities in front of me. And now I don’t feel like slowing down. I’m not willing to take what’s given to me and smile it off. I want more. And when I want something, I take it.
Jordan scoots forward on the bed and sits on the edge. Her hands reach up and pull the hood back to show off blond and pink hair.
So I know what I need to do. I need to bring a little bit of the psycho out that I try so hard to keep beneath the surface. I need to let the voices from within speak out louder and follow what they tell me to do. My mother telling me to take everything and be as greedy as she is. The brother who I didn’t grow up with who tells me to follow his lead and cause the type of chaos that plays with the rules. The voice of a father I’ve never met that tells me to embrace the killer within and stop caring about the feelings and safety of others. These are the voices that constantly whisper to me. And then there’s the deepest, darkest one of all. The one that is instructing me to tear down the very columns that hold this company above all others and descend it into such a level of chaos that the stars of SCW are forced to show their true colors as heroes and cowards. I was never meant to show up here and be the good girl. I tried to be. I tried to shut off those voices and just do what I’m told. But they were always there. Even when I was living in my car. Just take that money out of the register. You deserve it. Just steal that car, I bet the backseat is more comfortable. Just fool her heart, she’ll give you everything you need. Just trick your way into their house, that bed is all you need to rest. Just ruin all of their hopes and dreams. You’re the only one that matters anyways. I’ve chosen my allies and I know exactly what I have to do. I have to take the lid off and let this crazy be.
Jordan sits up on the bed and reaches into her hoodie pocket and produces a lighter. She holds it in front of her face and hits the striker to force out a small flame.
This flame is small but it’s the representation of what this means to me this weekend. A lighter is so interesting. It produces a flame, but just a breath of air puts it out. Closing the lid and releasing my thumb makes it go out. But the flame I desire never goes out. It just burns hotter and hotter and every one who tries to shut it off suffers the worst fate and the harshest burns they’ve ever imagined. There are those who will try to snuff out this flame, my flame, and they will be the ones who suffer the hardest. At Taking Hold of the Flame I will change everyone’s perception of me. They think they know me from social media. But that’s just part of me. That’s the part the voices allow to run the show on a daily basis so all of you will accept me. But it’s time to let the edge out. It’s time that I stop playing nice and I let the demons that I’ve held so close to my chest hold my hand and direct me down the right path. The money I received allowed me to sin at levels few of you could ever imagine. Now I get to do what I want. Do what they want…
Jordan looks down and shakes her head slowly, placing her hands on her head for a moment before looking back up at the camera.
Look what you’ve done now. You’ve let them have all of the power. You helped them take over. I used to have a handle on this, but I don’t have control anymore. I can’t be responsible for what happens to anyone. But I can make sure I win this flame. Trust me, it’s the only thing that could possibly save you. I’ve got the money. I’ve got the evil within me. And soon enough, I’ll hold the flame that ignites this world.
Jordan hits the plunger again and strikes the flame. She slowly raises it up in front of her face, takes a deep breath and blows it out.
Cop: LAPD. Could you please step out of the car?
The woman lets out a long sigh and scoots across the seat. She reaches for the handle and throws the door open. Cautiously, the officer places his hand on top of his holstered weapon. She starts to emerge quicker than he’d like.
Cop: Easy now! Hands where I can see them.
The woman shows the slightest bit of fright as she throws both hands up from the elbow with her arms out to the side. The cop, a tall african-american man with a mustache, shakes his head and waves his arm to tell her to drop her arms back down. She quickly complies and looks around the mostly empty area to try and figure out what she might be in trouble for.
Cop: You got any kind of ID on you?
The woman again holds one arm up as she looks at the cop and reaches slowly into a pocket of the sweats she wore. The cop examined her as she did. Her hair was a mess and she looked like she’d seen better days. He was shocked still that she seemed to be in decent physical shape despite the fact she appeared to be living in a car. His mind of course went through all the basics. Was she homeless? A battered woman on the run? A petty criminal in hiding?His observations seemed to indicate at least one of these three. He could tell she wasn’t digging for a gun. Maybe a knife, but hopefully just identification. When she produced a rectangular piece of paper from her pocket, he sighed quietly in relief and reached out to take it. He studied the plastic covered piece of paper closely and looked back and forth between it and the woman who stood in front of him.
Cop: Long way from Nebraska, Miss… Kylie J. Majors. What brings you out to these parts.
The woman scoffed and shook her head.
Kylie: I guess I’m not sure anymore. I was wrestling for a few months. Maybe you’ve heard of it…
Cop: Like professional wrestling? The stuff they do at the Olympics? You? That’s kind of hard to imagine. No offense, hun.
Kylie: No. no. no… like bright lights, square ring, loud music, big moves wrestling. The kind of stuff you can see weekly on television and monthly on pay per view.
The cop said nothing for a moment and then nodded. It explained the physique. It still didn’t explain what she was doing here in this abandoned parking lot, sleeping in a car. He let those ideas stew in his head for a moment and then nodded again.
Cop: Ah, so you must’ve been pretty shit then, huh? I mean even if you didn’t get paid that much, those people travel all year and stay in hotels when they aren’t at home. And you’re living in a car. Must be pretty embarrassing when you tell the other wrestlers. What company are you with? Something local?
Kylie: Uh, not exactly. Something more national. SCW?
Cop: No shit. That’s big stuff. Now you’ve got me questioning whether or not you’re pulling my leg. Say, do you know that girl Sienna? She’s hot as all get out. For the people, am I right? Damn, I’d love to get a picture with her to hang in my locker down at the station. She’s just a smokeshow, for real. So what has you here?
Kylie: Uhh, I mean what has you here?
Cop: I’m here on a 647 G. Someone called in an unknown vehicle on their property and thought they saw someone living in it. Basically, this place might look like an abandoned shit hole, but it’s someone else’s abandoned shit hole and they don’t want you here. You’ve got to get your stuff together and drive on out of here or I’ll have to get the handcuffs out and take you downtown.
Kylie: What if we wrestle over it?
Cop: M’am. Are you threatening an officer with violence? Are you trying to bribe me? I could arrest you for either. I don’t even need a good excuse. You are insane. We’re not wrestling.
Kylie: Seriously. I could make it feel like you’re wrestling Sienna.
Cop: Ok, holdup. For one, that came across vaguely sexual and look at you. You look like you crawled out of a dumpster. And secondly, you look like you crawled out of a dumpster and there’s no way anyone would confuse you and Sienna. Get real girl. Now get your stuff and go.
Kylie: Well then take me to your place and I’ll clean up.
Cop: You’re getting really damn close to making me arrest you for prostitution the way you’re throwing yourself at me.
Kylie: Get bent sausage head. You’ve got way too much meat for me. Let’s just say I eat vegan.
Cop: You are one weird ass girl.
Kylie sighs deeply and shakes her head before muttering: You have no idea.
Both stand silently for a moment before the cop gestures to her car and she walks toward it with her head down. She looks back with the saddest face and eyes the cop had seen. Like the ones he’d seen on some children at the scenes of domestic disputes. He shook his head and started walking over as she opened her door and stepped into her car. He stopped the door before she could close it and leaned down.
Cop: Listen, I don’t know what your deal is, but I know a place you could stay and a place you could keep dreaming. You seem persistent. You’re still in shape so God knows what you’ve been doing out in the streets to keep from losing your shape. Here…
The cop digs a rectangular piece of paper out of his top pocket and a pen. He writes down an address and hands it and her ID back to her.
Cop: Meet me there later tonight. Don’t let me see you back here.
The cop walks away and leaves as Kylie starts her car and sits behind the wheel, staring at the address on the piece of paper. Twelve hours later, she pulls up outside of a house and parks along the curb. She stares suspiciously at the house for some time before getting out of the car and walking up a sidewalk that led to the front door. She pushes a button and a buzzer sounds inside and outside of the house. She can hear footsteps on the inside and then a deadbolt sliding unlocked before the door opens to reveal a short, african american woman with braided hair. She smiles and opens the door.
Shondra: Oh! Robert said to expect you. He’s my big brother! Well little, but he’s so damn tall, right?
Kylie nods and follows the woman as she’s waved into the home and down a hallway.
Shondra: We’ve got a room all set up for you. And just down the street is a great gym. I have the space so you can stay with Robert and I until you’re back on your feet. We’ll need rent to cover the housing costs and the food, and we’ll expect you to pay us. Even if it’s later. Even much later.
Kylie: I don’t get this. Why are you doing this? You two don’t even know me.
Shondra: Sure we do. You’re Jordan Majors. We saw you at the big New Years show on SCW. When you debuted there. You were fantastic. My brother and I really loved your passion and charisma. Our family has a soft spot for wrestling. We watched it with our dad growing up. And once my bro knew for sure you wouldn’t be hitting on him if you stayed with us. He was fine making the call.
Jordan shakes her head and her eyes go wide at hearing that information.
Shondra: Either way, you settle into your room and I’m just cooking some dinner. Robert will be off of his shift any moment now and then we can all shit down and get to know more about you. It’s so exciting! A professional wrestler right here in my house!!
Shondra walks off and leaves Jordan who walks into the small room and looks around. She flips on the light and shuts the door behind her as she scans the room. There’s a twin-sized bed with a small table and a lamp next to it. In the corner, next to a closet is a desk and a chair. She opens the closet and looks inside to see it is full of storage items. Totes and old clothes wrapped in plastic. She closes the door and sits down at the desk. In front of her is a pad of paper and a pen. Written on the sheet is “Items for the homeless chick.” She lets out a soft, somewhat pathetic laugh and rips off the piece and sets it aside. Staring at the blank piece she puts the pen to paper and writes: Dear mom. A short montage shows Jordan training with Robert and spending time with Shondra over the next three weeks. It appears they have developed a bond between the three of them. Jordan is shown laying in her twin bed with her hands at her side when her cell phone rings. She lets it ring through twice before turning and picking it up. The number unknown. She answers.
Jordan: Hello?
Caller: This is Nick Cheatum from the prestigious law firm of Dewey, Cheatum, Howe. Is this Kylie Majors?
Jordan: Uhh, yes it is.
Caller: M’am, we have you named as the benefactor of a will we just uncovered this morning. We need you to visit our offices here as soon as possible.
Jordan: I’m sorry, what? Who died!?
Caller: It’s your uncle m’am. And he left you a lot of money. You’re about to be an extremely wealthy woman. How soon can you be at our offices?
Jordan brings the phone down into her lap and looks straight ahead. The room spins and she ponders whether or not this is some kind of prank meant to demean her. But she goes along with it.
Jordan: Yeah, I’ll be there as soon as I can.
Jordan stands up and collects herself before looking out the window. About 30 minutes later, Shondra knocks on the door, but doesn’t get an answer. She knocks again and reaches for the handle and pushes the door into the room. The bed is neatly made and all the items of the girl she’d come to know the last three weeks are gone. In a bit of a panic, Shondra turns and runs to the front door and swings it open. The broken down Kia is gone. The girl is gone. She slowly closes the door and walks to the kitchen to retrieve her phone. She clicks a few buttons on the screen and holds the phone to her head for a few moments of silence.
Shondra: Robert… she’s gone… I don’t know. Everything is just gone.
The scene transitions to a long hall of a seemingly abandoned building that has fire damage on its walls and ceilings. Slowly we come closer to a person sitting in a charred up chair with a worn metal crown on her head. Jordan Majors leans forward from the broken-down throne and grins before leaning back and crossing her arms.
They say money is the root of all evil, or at least someone said that once. He must not’ve had very much money. Or maybe the problem was he had too much, more than he could handle. I don’t really think the same can be said for me. Did I inherit more money than I could ever imagine dealing with? Yes, I did. But I also inherited a new found confidence that came with it. And not a single person can look at that and say nothing good has come out of it. Just a few months ago I was lost. Some people have chosen to use my time in the shadows as something to point to in a bad way. They want to say I stepped away because I couldn’t cut it here. Maybe there is some truth in that. But here’s what I know. I care, and I care hard. I care too much sometimes. I didn’t like myself. I didn’t like what I was producing night in and night out. It just felt off. It felt wrong. I didn’t just want to walk away from SCW for a bit. I was thinking of just walking away from it all. Then there was a phone call.
Jordan reaches up and brings the crown down into her hands and holds it, looking at it closely and examining it as she continues. Slowly she rotates the piece of metal between her hands.
That phone call brought with it things I could have never imagined would happen with my life. There was an uncle I didn’t know existed. And he had wealth I couldn’t fathom. And he was leaving it to me. It all sounded like a fairy tale. But I don’t believe in children’s stories because I’m a realist and I’m not 4 years old. My imagination wasn’t built to comprehend the feel good story that is blank check. Here was everything bit of cash I needed to buy a castle, put a race track in the back yard and play the next line of video games inside all night. That’s just not me. I answered that call from the back seat of my car. As in where I was living. That’s all I had left. The car I saved up countless checks of working at a fast food restaurant in Nebraska to be able to afford to leave that state and move on. I used what little I had left to pay my way into a wrestling school and hone the skills I’d been getting by with on the local school and bingo hall circuits that wanted a pretty face with a little spunk. But over time I know I went stale.
Still looking at her crown, Jordan stands and paces toward the middle of the burnt up room.
Passion started to seep out of what I had to give. I love the ring, don’t get me wrong. But I was working so hard to survive on the outside, that I didn’t have enough to give back on the inside. When someone tells you they’re willing to give it all in the ring, that’s what they were truly getting from me. It was all I had left. It was all I could give. I became moody and depressed. I pushed away anyone who tried to get close to me and shut myself out from family and friends I’d let in in the past. I was truly alone. Inheriting that money proved to me that I was valuable. Not because there was now a dollar amount next to my name, but because someone thought enough of me to leave me everything he ever earned. Even if it was with the throw of a dart, he picked me. Fate picked me. And fate was standing right there and picking me up by the boot straps and telling me to be who I wanted to be.
Jordan snaps the crown in half in her hands after some effort. Suddenly, everything goes from dark and dull to bright and colorful. The room looks fresh and renewed. What were once raggedy torn clothes on Jordan’s body are suddenly replaced with a fancy, designer dress. And in her hands is a bright golden crown. She turns and looks back at the chair, which is now adorned in silk fabrics and surrounded by two knights in full armor. She begins walking back that direction.
That’s why I marched off to a salon and dyed this hair blonde and started wearing an entirely new outfit that even the Beauty Factory friends of mine probably look down on and scoff at. Who wrestles in suspenders, right? I just did what felt like me. Surrounded myself with people who wanted to be around me. Maybe those people don’t all mesh right, but it felt right to me. It got me back in the right state of mind and now I’m looking at Taking Hold of the Flame and I recognize that it is the biggest match my young career has seen to date. I’m genuinely over the moon for the opportunity to compete in the match. For everything I’ve said about being a predator, this is my chance to really show it. It’s everyone against each other. It’s everyone against me. The top predator has to be strong enough to overcome, even when she’s the one being hunted. And I’ve even been singled out by the top brass where this match is concerned. They don’t want nasty old Jordan pulling a fast one on them and using her hired resources to change the outcome of the match. Well don’t worry Sasha, the dogs will stay in their kennel and behave like the good, well-paid boys they are. Maybe that’s where the should stay for the long haul. I don’t think euthanasia is an option. I was even told that might be considered murder or something. Whatever, I don’t keep track of those types of legal issues.
Reaching the throne, Jordan turns and sits back down. The crown in her hands, she lifts it slowly and places it atop her head, looking straight forward.
Sasha can dictate what happens with those boys all she wants, but she can’t dictate what I choose to do with the rest of my resources. The one I seemingly have an unlimited amount of. This weekend I want everyone to be aware of a special plan I’m offering to those good boys and girls who know where their place in this world truly is. When Jordan Majors is in the ring, eliminate yourself for me. If you do this, I will give you $100,000. I’ve looked up and down the rules for this match and I don’t see anywhere that states you can’t bribe people to eliminate themselves. I would greatly appreciate it, respect it, and reward it. I’m a woman of my word. Just ask SCW and Cookie. She begged for the chance to host this event and she never heard another word. So I took to Twitter and used my voice to flash the power of money. At Taking Hold of the Flame I will be presenting Cookie with a check in her name to a charity that I have chosen. I will be announcing it at the show, but that’s $1 million to what I promise is a very deserving charity. I’ll be bringing the big party check and balloons and everything. It’s going to be a blast, I assure you. In fact, this whole show is shaping up to be a great one if you like to see me around.
Jordan leans forward in her throne and puts her chin on her hand, which rests on her knee. She gives a sly grin and continues.
This is a match made for someone like me to thrive in. I just told you my pain staking journey to get to this point. I was living in a car, as a professional wrestler. I was dealing with the debt of my own and of family that couldn’t get by without me. I paid those debts. I rose to the top via the death of an unknown uncle. I turned that moment into something that turned it all around. I hit the restart button and reignited the fire within me. It’s something that everyone should do given the chance. Do it as many times as needed. It has worked wonders for me, and it will work even more in the very near future. I’m heading into this match knowing in my heart that I’m more of a survivor than any other who dares enter this event along with me. Everyone will tell their own sob stories about near-death events, relationships that ended, tough medical times and consistent failure. I’m here to tell you I did a 180 with my life and with my mental state. It was over for me once upon a time, but now I have a chance to make history. Do something no one sees coming. No one believes I can do this, and that’s exactly why I will. They’re counting me out before the match starts. Every single one of these people is looking at the known competitors in this match and treating me like a speed bump the cross in order to get to the end. But I’m far worse than that. I’m that thing in the parking garage that comes up and rips your tires to shreds when you back into it unsuspectingly. You didn’t even know I was there, but then I completely ruin your day. Boo hoo. Maybe next year, kids. This one is made for Jordan Majors’ star to shine.
Jordan looks at one of the knights and gives a wink and a nod and turns back to address once more. The knight returns and hands her a golden torch.
Maybe I’m not in the Beauty Factory and maybe I haven’t achieved something in the past that everyone feels the need to ooh and ahh about. I don’t have a doll or a fancy hashtag for social media. I don’t ride a motorcycle or say edgy things to sound cooler than the rest. But I’m authentically me, and it’s going to be more than enough to authentically win the whole damn show when I raise that flame in the end. It’s just a damn shame that everyone and their stupid dogs were so quick to write me off and not take me seriously. Tsk tsk, don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Jordan brings the torch down in front of her face, smiles, and blows out the fire. The scene quickly transitions to a partly cloudy night sky filled with clouds. A nice car with rental stickers is parked in the lot of a diner along a not too busy highway. The thud of boots smacking the pavement is heard as a woman walks up and leans against the back door of the car. The scene pans out to show the woman as Abigail Lindsay, settled against the rental next to Jordan Majors.
Abigail: Are you about ready for your big moment you keep talking about?
Abigail smirks as she looks to the girl, knowing it will elicit a smile. Jordan does smile, and blushes softly before turning to look over at her.
Jordan: You know I am. This is what I’ve been dreaming of all of my life. I have the confidence. I have the resources. I have the skill. I have everything I need to shock the whole damn world and come away from this thing holding the flame in my possession. I know I have it. There was a time not that long ago that I thought I knew, but I was blinded by my own personal issues. My mind is so much clearer now. The direction is clearly marked in front of me. I know what I have to do in order to win this. I know the lengths I have to take my body to…
Abigail: That sounds almost… perilous? I think hanging around me has rubbed you the wrong way. You’re becoming just as addicted to chaos as I am.
Jordan: Tick, tock. Right?
Both women share a laugh as Jordan turns her body to face Abigail.
Jordan: What about you? Still waiting for your chance to conquer all your foes to get to Ravyn?
Abigail: I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. Remember when I said I didn’t want you getting involved?
Jordan: Of course I do. You know I’d be willing to do whatever it takes to help you with this.
Abigail: Well… you now have my permission to help.
Jordan turns her head to the side and narrows her eyes in a confused glance. Abigail picks up on it quickly and turns to face Jordan as well.
Abigail: The landscape has changed. Ace is out of the picture. We’ve talked about that. But there’s still pieces that need to fall, obstacles that are standing in the way. We’re in the end game now. And I could use the help if you’re willing.
Jordan stays silent for a moment and raises an eye as one half of her lip raises in a sideways grin, too.
Jordan: Somehow I knew this would happen. Count me in. But, just a reminder, the dogs are in the kennel right now. You’re just getting me.
Abigail: I’m not asking for them.
Abigail takes a step closer and stands chest to chest with Jordan, looking slightly down to her and smiling.
Abigail: I’m only asking for you.
Jordan bites her lip and nods her head as Abigail steps back and looks at the girl before her. In the ring Jordan was all flash and brat. Sometimes she was out of the ring, too. But in moments, like now, she could see the girl that existed there before the money. It always made her curious. But the two women enjoyed their little moments together on the road. It made things more interesting.
Abigail: That reminds me. Since we’re talking about alliances… what gives with the Beauty Factory?
Jordan: Mutual admiration.
Abigail: Oh, come on. There’s nothing further you can let me in on?
Jordan: Isn’t it obvious? Just like you’re trying to move pieces to the right places on the board for your own personal gain, each of us are doing the same. I’m not a part of them, but I can see the benefits of attrition by subtraction. If we can gain a mental edge over others and they think seeing us means we’re going to be causing problems, then we have an edge no one else could even predict.
Abigail shakes her head and crosses her arms as she stares at the girl.
Abigail: You really amaze me sometimes.
Jordan: I know.
Abigail: No, I mean, you realize how much you are capable of on your own? You’re always bringing in the bodyguards that aren’t even that good. Now you’re siding with the Beauty Factory and I’m sure you can figure out that this is about them using you.
Jordan rolls her eyes momentarily and rolls sideways to lean her back against the front door of the car. Abigail reaches out and grabs her and turns her back.
Abigail: I’m not trying to piss you off. I’m just telling you that at some point when you say you have a lot of confidence in yourself, you need to prove it. Show us. Show me. Show yourself. I know you are capable of being a one-woman chaos machine this weekend. I’ve seen you putting aside all of the parties and clubs and just hitting the gym like a maniac. I think most people are seeing that this week. You can do this. I know what you are capable of. That’s why I’m willing to let you join in my own crusade.
Jordan stares into Abigail’s eyes for a moment before turning to look off into the stars. She slowly seems to compose herself and turns back.
Jordan: It’s not easy.
Abigail: It’s also not that hard. You have to make those decisions for you. Make sure they benefit you.
Jordan nods and places her elbow on top of the car to lean to a side.
Jordan: Alright. I’m going to do it. I’m going to walk into Taking Hold of the Flame and I’m going to walk out brighter than ever because that flame will be in my hand. It’s going to be historic for the business. The unheralded rookie of SCW that rose through the ranks and proved everyone wrong.
Abigail: Prove yourself wrong. Erase all those doubts.
Jordan: You’re right. The key has been there all along. I didn’t need all this money and the bodyguards and the style changes in order to be ready to win this. From the day I entered this company the key was right there in front of my eyes. It’s you.
Abigail turns her head now, giving Jordan a surprised and confused glance as the scene focuses on the stars above and fades out. It fades back in to Jordan wearing a hooded sweatshirt and pacing back and forth in a hotel room. A camera catches action as she moves in front of the window and light can be seen just seeping in around the edges of the curtain. Jordan steps up on the bed and sits down cross-legged and stares straight toward the camera.
You know what bothers me sometimes about this place. The idea that the upper echelon is just already set in stone. Someone like me? I’m treated like some sort of a sideshow or a piece for the crowd to laugh at when things go wrong for me. They want to mock me for being the pretty little rich girl that can’t hold her own? Try it. Just try it and see what happens when I rise above your expectations for me and I ruin your days and nights. There are many people in this match that believe they have a chance to be standing there at the end. That no matter what surprise person or named person that enters this match, it won’t be enough to affect them and their chances to win. Not one person wants to believe Jordan Majors has more than a chance in hell to make noise in this match. For so many of you, I’m just a silly little gimmick. But this silly little bitch isn’t here to know her role and accept it. I’m here to break down the walls you put up around me and shatter those expectations. SCW didn’t sign me to come in and lay down on the ground and eat pins so it’s top talent could continue to stand on top of the world. They brought me in to mix up the game and cause a little chaos in whatever match I touch. They brought me in to see me kick the door down to that upper group and stake my own flag into the ground. And I very much intend to do exactly that at Taking Hold of the Flame.
Jordan folds her hands together in her lap and leans forward.
What you have to do first is ask yourself this question: what does it mean to be the best? A lot of people here believe they are the best in this business. But are they really? Is it possible that the best has yet to rise to the top? That pathetic old saying in wrestling is that the cream always rises to the top. Well does it rise when a horde of people are frantically stirring the drink as fast as it can to try and mix it in among the rest? That’s what I’m trying to get at here. There are people here who know their places are safe. That’s why they don’t see me as a threat. From the day I stepped through the doors I was brushed aside by my peers. Too small. Not strong enough. Not talented enough. They took the bar for me, the one I set up at the top, and they chopped it down from the sky and placed it at floor level. Those are the expectations they have for me, that I’ll just be a two-bit player that makes an appearance in the background and then slides to the side so they can win as it’s designed to go, right? When I was just living in a car and staring out the window every day, I was in a mind set where people like that could set my expectations and I would just accept it. I would just cower off to the side and hide and only show up when my name is called. I’m not content with taking that role anymore. I don’t want to be the supporting actress. I want to be the star. From the day I was signed I made it clear that I intended to make sure my star rose as high as anyone else’s. Before the money I wanted to rise that star. After the money, I want it even more. You’ll hear me say over and over that the cash simply doesn’t define me. It refined me. It opened my eyes to the world of possibilities in front of me. And now I don’t feel like slowing down. I’m not willing to take what’s given to me and smile it off. I want more. And when I want something, I take it.
Jordan scoots forward on the bed and sits on the edge. Her hands reach up and pull the hood back to show off blond and pink hair.
So I know what I need to do. I need to bring a little bit of the psycho out that I try so hard to keep beneath the surface. I need to let the voices from within speak out louder and follow what they tell me to do. My mother telling me to take everything and be as greedy as she is. The brother who I didn’t grow up with who tells me to follow his lead and cause the type of chaos that plays with the rules. The voice of a father I’ve never met that tells me to embrace the killer within and stop caring about the feelings and safety of others. These are the voices that constantly whisper to me. And then there’s the deepest, darkest one of all. The one that is instructing me to tear down the very columns that hold this company above all others and descend it into such a level of chaos that the stars of SCW are forced to show their true colors as heroes and cowards. I was never meant to show up here and be the good girl. I tried to be. I tried to shut off those voices and just do what I’m told. But they were always there. Even when I was living in my car. Just take that money out of the register. You deserve it. Just steal that car, I bet the backseat is more comfortable. Just fool her heart, she’ll give you everything you need. Just trick your way into their house, that bed is all you need to rest. Just ruin all of their hopes and dreams. You’re the only one that matters anyways. I’ve chosen my allies and I know exactly what I have to do. I have to take the lid off and let this crazy be.
Jordan sits up on the bed and reaches into her hoodie pocket and produces a lighter. She holds it in front of her face and hits the striker to force out a small flame.
This flame is small but it’s the representation of what this means to me this weekend. A lighter is so interesting. It produces a flame, but just a breath of air puts it out. Closing the lid and releasing my thumb makes it go out. But the flame I desire never goes out. It just burns hotter and hotter and every one who tries to shut it off suffers the worst fate and the harshest burns they’ve ever imagined. There are those who will try to snuff out this flame, my flame, and they will be the ones who suffer the hardest. At Taking Hold of the Flame I will change everyone’s perception of me. They think they know me from social media. But that’s just part of me. That’s the part the voices allow to run the show on a daily basis so all of you will accept me. But it’s time to let the edge out. It’s time that I stop playing nice and I let the demons that I’ve held so close to my chest hold my hand and direct me down the right path. The money I received allowed me to sin at levels few of you could ever imagine. Now I get to do what I want. Do what they want…
Jordan looks down and shakes her head slowly, placing her hands on her head for a moment before looking back up at the camera.
Look what you’ve done now. You’ve let them have all of the power. You helped them take over. I used to have a handle on this, but I don’t have control anymore. I can’t be responsible for what happens to anyone. But I can make sure I win this flame. Trust me, it’s the only thing that could possibly save you. I’ve got the money. I’ve got the evil within me. And soon enough, I’ll hold the flame that ignites this world.
Jordan hits the plunger again and strikes the flame. She slowly raises it up in front of her face, takes a deep breath and blows it out.