AF33: Blade vs. Aubrey Sloan

[Ty Burna]

Deadline is Wednesday, March 12th at 11:59 PM CST.

 

[Harthan]

"This is a battle you cannot win," the girl said, assuming a fighting stance. The air prickled with the electricity that precedes a true clash of titans. All the spectators held their breaths in eager anticipation.

Or at least they would have, if there had been any.

"I am the superior fighter. You should surrender now," she said - or rather, whispered to herself, the wind blowing through the trees carrying her words away. Standing in the forest, the sun fell in spots around her through the leaves, a coating of light and dark.


"I am sorry it came to this," she murmured again, her last warning.

The giant black squirrel ten feet opposite of her declined to respond.

"The day is mine!" she shouted, charging, darting like lightning darts across the sky, bringing her within a hair's breadth of the squirrel. In shock, the animal shot an alarmed glance at her before zipping aside at the last moment, leaving her grasping at air. She spat in frustration but went after it immediately, leaping off of one leg into a rapid change of direction. The squirrel's dark coloring made it easy to spot as it turned up leaves on its way through the forest floor.

Her quarry was fast, but she knew she was faster. She told herself she was faster.

The squirrel made a break for the left and zoomed up a tree, but this was hardly a deterrent for her. She could climb a tree as well as any squirrel. The squirrel circled around on its way up, but she leaped for a low hanging branch and pulled herself up. The squirrel reached nearer the top of the tree and the girl made her way to the next branch up, gaining a few feet with nimble steps. She looked up and saw the squirrel leap to the next tree over. Her brow furrowed, but she kept on it, seeing a branch she could jump to on that tree and making her way to it. The squirrel was just out of arm's reach as she grabbed for it, coming up with nothing but air. Her quarry turned and barked something at her, no doubt a grievous insult in squirrel. She flashed a smile as she kept on it; the squirrel leaped to another tree and watched her warily. She stared it down and measured the distance to the other tree. It was a long way, but she could make it.

Besides, she was only ten feet off the ground. She'd be fine if she fell. Probably.

She took a deep breath, knowing she had to act before the squirrel decided to make another move. She pushed off her legs - she soared through the air - she reached for the squirrel's tail with one hand, the branch with the other...and missed both.

"Oh," she muttered, sparing a last glance for the black squirrel - which she suspected was laughing at her - before ground came up to meet her.

She laid there for some time, staring in the forest canopy. It didn't hurt exactly, but she suspected that if she tried to stand up it would be painful. The bed of leaves was alright for now. And it was alright as the sun dimmed and the forest grew darker.

"Oi! Girl!" called a deep, masculine voice from not too far away. "Are you just going to sleep there all day?"

"I wasn't sleeping, Zhong," she called back.

"Sure you weren't," he said, appearing above her. He was a tall man, appearing even taller as she laid on the ground. "Up with you, then," he went on, extending a hand to her.

"Do I have to?" she complained. "It will hurt."

"Hurt is good, sometimes. It will make you strong," he told her as he bent down.

"Sometimes hurt just makes you hurt," she countered, but she took his hand all the same. He pulled her up and she grimaced in pain, holding her back. "Ow."

Zhong Kwan, the trader and wanderer, sighed as he watched the girl.

"Chasing squirrels again?" he asked, knowing the answer.

She shot him a defiant look, though he was too busy casting his eyes toward the heavens. "I will catch one someday, Zhong."

"You will catch one never, because the squirrel is faster than you. You know this."

She exhaled, blowing an errant lock of hair out of her face. "I know no such thing."

"This is because you know very little, girl," he scolded, though his smile betrayed him.

"I know I am faster than the squirrel. I will catch one tomorrow. Or the next day."

"You will fall again, and tomorrow Zhong will not be there to pick you up."

She laughed, a gentle, mocking sound that she saved for Zhong. "Now who is lying, Zhong? You will be here every day."

They began to walk together, knowing the way to her home. She waited for Zhong to counter again, as he always did. But today he was silent.

She thought little of it, but she did not see Zhong's face in the growing darkness.

----

After an hour or so, Zhong and the girl came upon the monastery that was her entire life. She limped on her way up, the long walk after her fall proving taxing on her.

"Take my arm, girl," he said. She spat - away from Zhong, of course - and picked up the pace.

"I do not need it," she responded.

Zhong sighed again, but knew better than to offer again.

They came upon the monastery with the last of the sun fading away behind it. There was just enough light for her to see all of it. She knew every building - there, the sleeping halls. There the great stone building that housed the shrine, where all else was made of wood. There the kitchens, there the bath house. All of it simple and well ordered, reflecting the minds of the men who built it.

All of it silent, also much as the men who built it.


"Always creeps me out a bit, it does, even after all these years," said Zhong, suppressing a shiver.

"It does not bother me," she replied.

"You don't know any better, girl. Forty, fifty men in one place - anywhere else, you'd hear them a mile off."

"I do not care to know better," she said with a shrug. Zhong started to say something back, but they had drawn near the door of the shrine and a few robed figures emerged.

She knew them all by sight. Two of the men were mere acolytes. She had defeated both of them in hand to hand combat a few days ago. Another was a fully initiate monk, but she had bested him as well the week prior. They walked past her without so much as a glance. The man behind them was the Master, who had no other name that she knew.

He had taught her all she knew of the martial arts, and most of what she knew of life, other than what Zhong had taught her. He was also the only monk in the monastery permitted to speak, as a result of attaining the highest station of the order.

"Master," she said, bowing slightly. Zhong did the same.

"Zhong. Aubrey," he said to each of them in turn.

The girl bristled slightly at the mention of her name. The Master was the only person besides her who knew it, other than Zhong, although at least Zhong did not use it. She did not like it - it sounded wrong. This was a land for Juns, Chuns, and Jias, not for Aubreys. She did not like to be reminded, but the Master would not stop using it.

"You appear injured, Aubrey," he said. His tone was merely observational, but she felt the judgment behind every word.

"I was...practicing. I was...overzealous."

The Master murmured something unintelligible. She looked at the ground.

"Zhong, I would like a word with you regarding supplies for the monastery. As well as the other matter we discussed last time."

Zhong glanced at the girl - she did not notice, fortunately. "Of course."

The Master began to walk forward and Zhong fell in beside him. The girl kept her head down for a time. Eventually, she sighed and stretched her back a bit before heading into the shrine and down a small side staircase. Down here were her sleeping chambers, far from the men, so she would not prove a distraction to their vows. They were small, warmed by a brazier. Her few possessions were disorganized, though she hardly owned enough for the place to be called messy.

She laid down, still in some pain, on the small hard cot that had been hers for some 20 years. She tried to make herself comfortable as she fell into an uneasy sleep.

----

The next day, the sun shone overhead but it did not warm the girl beneath her padded jacket and tunic. She shivered and a shadow fell over her. She turned to see who had come.

The Master and Zhong stood over her. She did not like their faces.

"Happy birthday," came the master's solemn greeting. He handed her a carved wooden box that it took two hands for her to hold.

She took it and she raised an eyebrow. "Is it? I suppose it is cold. Thank you, Master."

He continued to glower at her, and Zhong cleared his throat.

"Girl, I'm afraid there's more to it than that. This is your 21st birthday."

"It is fortunate that someone is keeping count, I suppose, but it is not particularly useful information, Zhong."

The Master spoke in response. "By any definition of the word, Aubrey, you are now an adult. We can no longer consider you a child."

She shook her head in confusion. "Thank you?"

"Aubrey," the Master continued, his voice hardening along with his gaze. "This is a solemn monastery for men to learn the ways of our order. We have harbored you here because you were a child, a girl alone in the world. This is the case no longer. This is no place for an adult woman."

The word did not seem to penetrate immediately, and the girl was confused. "I do not understand, Master."

"What he's saying, girl, is that you have to leave."

She looked between them, first at Zhong, then at the Master, and back and forth a few times as she tried to comprehend. "But...where will I go?"

"I have asked Zhong to assist you. He is a worldly man and will see to your needs."

"This box..."

She tried to open it, but found her hands fumbling.

"It contains everything that you came to us with, most importantly, your birth certificate. It is Zhong's belief that returning to America is best for you."

The realization of what was occurring came crashing down on her at once. This was impossible, of course. This was her home - no, this was her entire world. She had lived here as long as she could remember. A half remembered story of a little girl lost in the woods, what did that matter? There was no before. There should be no after.

She did not realize she was crying until Zhong put an arm around her. She tried to look at him and could not see him through the tears.

"It'll be alright, girl," he said, awkwardly patting her on the shoulder.

"Crying will avail you nothing. This is not a personal decision, Aubrey. These are the strictures of the order. I have taught you all I could teach to you in this day. For a woman, you are an able fighter. You will manage. Do not be weak."

She tried to formulate some response, but she could not get it past the tears as she tried to choke it out.

"You could go a bit easier on her, old man..."

"Easy is not the way. She knows this as well as I do. Now go. You have until sundown."

The Master wandered away without another word. The girl was left there, stunned, tears still streaming down her face.

"Girl..."

She only shook her head and ran to the the shrine. Zhong followed her, down the stairs, into her room. She was on the bed, sobbing.

"I cannot, Zhong."

"You have to."

"I cannot."

"Girl -"

"I CANNOT!" She looked up and screamed at him. "You are a traveler to far places, Zhong, but I am not! I do not want to be elsewhere. This is what I know. I cannot leave. I cannot, I cannot, I cannot."

Zhong sat down on her tiny bed beside her.

"Girl...I've known you for sixteen years now. How you even managed to wander here I can't even figure out. You have survived in a place that you did not belong for all that time. You have done more than survive - you have learned to fight, and can best any man here, save the Master. You, who have done all this, you tell me you cannot take a step, and a step, and another step until you are in a new place? You are foolish if you think so."

She took a deep breath and tried to summon the words.

"Where will I go, Zhong?" She said in a tiny voice, full of fear.

"Zhong has many friends. I will see you to America, where you were born. There is a place there where a woman who can fight is a prize to be kept, not a burden to be tossed aside. You will fight the best fighters in the world, and you will beat them, this I know. You will do well."

"America is not home for me, Zhong. I do not understand why I must go there."

"Where else will you go? You do not speak Chinese well enough to live here, and you would stand out like a sore thumb."

"It is your fault I do not speak Chinese. You would not teach it to me."

"Because I know where you belong, girl. I know where Aubrey belongs."

She glared at him, through the tears.

"Do not call me that."

"Many and more will call you that in the time to come. It is your name, girl. You told me once that your name does not belong here, but it will belong there. Bear it with pride."

She sat for a moment in sullen silence.

"I still do not like it."

"You will suffer much you do not like, as well. I am sorry, girl, truly I am."

Zhong got to his feet.

"It is time we were leaving. Let us go."

She shook her head.

"I am not ready."

"Delaying will make it no better, girl. Come, stand." He reached out a hand to her.

"It will hurt, Zhong," she whispered, taking his hand.

"Hurt can make you strong, girl," he said as he pulled her to her feet.

She sighed and her shoulders dropped, defeated.

"And sometimes hurt just makes you hurt."

----

Many weeks later....

She had come at last to the place where she had been told it would begun. Trial after trial, shock after shock...arriving in a village for the first time, coming to a city for the first time, the customs office...she did not even like to think about her first flight. She felt sick just thinking of it. A friend of a friend of Zhong's had picked her up from the airport and brought her to the meeting that had been set up weeks before. And here she was.

Still dressed in tunic and padded jacket - it was still cold here, she was dismayed to learn - she looked quite the sight to Chuck Myles. An American girl - pretty, at that - dressed like a Chinese farmer. It was something else. But they said she could fight.

"So, Ms. Sloan...may I call you Aubrey?"

She cringed. She still did not like it. Even after all this time - with a passport bearing her picture and the same name - it did not feel right to her.

"If you must," she conceded in a small voice, shifting in her seat.

"You want to be a professional wrestler, I'm led to understand."

"I do not know what this is."

Myles raised an eyebrow and felt his blood pressure rise. "I'm sorry? Is this a joke?"

"A joke? No, I am bad at jokes," she said, shaking her head. "I'll show you. Why is there a road with the chicken?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Because there is another side. It is very bad. Zhong says I always tell it wrong. See?"

Myles rubbed his temples. This was quickly becoming very frustrating.

"Maybe we need to back up. Do you know where we are right now?"

"We are in America. Or so I am told. I do not know if I could tell differently."

"Yes, but specifically."

"We are...in an office?"

Myles sighed heavily before continuing. "Close enough. Specifically, the WZCW Offices. That's WrestleZone Championship Wrestling. You really don't know what that is?"

The girl shook her head. "I was told there would be fighting. I...I am good at fighting."

"God, girl, it's all the same thing. Other than a few rules, if you can beat the hell out of someone you'll do well enough. Do you think you can do that?"

She cocked her head. "Well. I once beat an acolyte so badly he could not get out of bed until the next day. Is that good enough?"

The word he'd gotten was that the girl had come from a community of warrior monks. If they were half as good as he imagined...

"I think that'll do, Aubrey. I think we can do business together." He extended a hand.

She looked at it and narrowed her eyes. "What is this? Are we fighting!?"

She leaped to her feet, knocking over her chair in the process. She assumed her traditional stance. Myles look at her dumbfounded.

"No, I...I was trying to shake your hand."

"I do not desire to be shaken."

"I...well...alright. Okay. Just sit down, alright."

She cautiously sat back down, on the floor, leaving the chair fallen behind her.

"You could have picked up the chair."

"I do not trust chairs. Why do you need a device to sit upon? The ground does just as well. I am suspicious of their purpose." She looked over her shoulder and glared at the chair.

Myles contained another sigh and shoved a piece of paper toward her.

"Just...sign this, and leave. Please."

She took the paper and the pen that was on top of it. She began to read, and after a short while signed it, handing it back to Myles. She stood.

"Do you have a number we can contact you at?"

"I...I do not understand the question."

"A number? A phone number. For a cell phone, or something."

"Oh...I have only heard of such devices. These are the boxes that everyone is talking into outside, yes? I am afraid of them."

"The phones, or the people?"

She looked side to side and leaned in. "Both," she whispered. "It is so loud here. The phones make it worse."

Myles shook his head and held back a grin. "I'll tell you what. I'm going to write down where you need to be and when, and you show up there. Can you manage that?"

"I have a...man...who drives. Yes. I can manage."

Myles did as he promised and handed her the piece of paper. She pocketed it.

"You came highly recommended, Aubrey. I look forward to watching you in the ring soon."

She bowed solemnly and left without another word. Closing the door behind her, she slumped against it. That was the longest conversation she'd had to sustain in a week. She did not like it. It was not like talking with Zhong, who understood, or even the Master. They were all so loud, and they spoke so fast. How did they understand themselves? It was a mad place she had come to.

She felt like curling up into a ball and crying, as she had felt every day since she had left. But it had been a long road.

The girl had learned to hide her tears.

 

[Blade]

It’s all just a blur.

“They said you fell off the ladder, and your head caught the corner of the table. Honestly, I don’t know why your company lets you guys do this stuff,” the doctor explains to me, as he stitches up the gaping wound in my head.

I don’t remember everything after that moment. It’s all just a blur.

“So, the referee is trying to end the match, and Triple X actually backs off for a minute. They’re able to put you on a stretcher and push you up the ramp. But then X flips out and pushes you off the stage.”

“Isn’t that something…” I mutter with a wince as the needle slides through my forehead again.

“And people were freaking out, thinking you were dead or something. It was insane. But we pulled you out, and you’re okay,” he finishes, almost in an uplifting tone.

“Can we talk about something else?” I mumble as I feel the slight tug of a suture being pulled through the skin.

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” There’s an awkward silence as he continues to put me back together. “So what does it feel like to be hit in the face with a ladder?”

“I guess it—“

“I see people come in here that have been hit in the face with all kindsa stuff. Hammers and toilet seats and…”

At this point I begin to tune him out. I’m not angry, nor am I upset. I’m just nothing. After what I went through with X, it’s all over. And I lost. And worst, I should be crushed. At best, I should feel liberated now that it’s all over. Instead, I just don’t care either way. When you put so much into something only to end up losing it all, what do you do?

It’s all just a blur.

*********************************​

I lie in my bed. They’re not letting me leave until my head is fully healed, and to make sure I don’t have a concussion, after the bad one I got a couple of months ago. Luckily I have a friend who’s in hospital.

Bob is in a chair beside me, his arm covered in a big thick cast, as I sit on top of my bed. We’re half way through another game of gin.

“I don’t know, some new girl called Aubrey Sloan. She’s been destroying people her whole life,” I finish.

“That sounds like fun,” he chuckles.

“Between Celeste and Izzy, I’m kind of used to women kicking my ass.”

“That’s real manly, bud.”

“I’m just saying, we’ve had some badass women in this company, and there’s another one coming. One that knows martial arts.”

“Hey, you’ve got this. Technique and mat wrestling will always beat striking ability in the ring.”

“I’ll remember that when she Crane kicks my face in.” I put down my last few cards, “Gin.”

“Darnit!” Bob gathers up the cards and begins to shuffle. I want to ask him what he’s going to do with his life, but I’m hesitant. He left WZCW less than a week ago. That wound is still fresh. As he begins to deal, I don’t have to ask him.

“So, listen, I’ve taken the money I’ve saved, and I think I’m gunna start my own brewery…” he begins.

“Wow, that’s pretty awesome,” I say sincerely.

“I was wondering if you might come along, work with me…” he asks quietly as puts down a couple of sevens.

I stop playing and look up, “What?”

“I just thought, after everything, you might wanna take a step back. You barely survived Unscripted. You’re not any closer to—“

“And I’m just supposed to give up? Just like you did?” I can’t help raising my voice.

“I didn’t say that, Blade…”

I throw my cards down. “You think just because you laid down and died, that I’m going to? I’m not like you, Bob. I’m stronger than you, I’m better than you. I’m not going to fail like you fail, do you hear me?”

“Blade, I—“

“Just get out of here.” He looks at me hurt and stunned.

“Fine.”

He gets up and leaves without a single glance back. I’m already regretting what I’ve said.

The doctor comes in moments later, chart in hand, looking serious in that doctor kind of way.

“Listen, we’re going to have to ask you not to wrestle this week,” he says slowly. He’s not sure how I’ll react.

“What?”

“Your head wound is still healing, and the results of your impact test are yet to return. We’re going to keep you here for a few more days?”

I sigh and nod. “Okay Doc, you know best.” I shake his hand.

“Great. You get some rest. I’m working a night shift, so I’ll come in and check on you later.”

********************************​

As dawn breaks, the doctor walks into the room.

“Good morni—“

The bed is empty. The doctor goes back into the hall. “Has anyone seen the patient in room 402?” he shouts down the hall to no response.

A nurse rushes past him, looking nervous. “We have an issue! Several backs of morphine have been taken from the supply closet!” she squeals.

The doctor shakes his head. “Unbelievable…”

*********************************​

Moments later, the doctor comes out of the hospital and strides towards the staff parking. He finds his reserved parking spot, which is now empty. The doctor is shocked as he see where is car is supposed to be. He stuffs his hand in his pocket frantically, but can’t find his keys.

It suddenly hits him. He shakes his head despondently.

************************************​

I ride down the road in the doctor’s car, hooked up to a little morphine drio. I’ll be honest, I’m praying that I don’t crash, but I’m doing okay so far.

I’m going to Aftershock to fight Aubrey Sloan. Because the one thing I’ve learned from my encounters with Triple X is that justice is all about perspective. Some people never feel the consequences of what they’re done. And it’s usually those who don’t care about the consequences that never feel karma coming back around to slap them in the face.

So this is the start of something new. I’m not going to care about the consequences anymore. I will act on impulse and instinct. It’ll all just be a blur.