Ten. Nine. Eight. (Open Stadium)

[Lessien Melwasul]

Who were the witches, where did they come from

~Alice lets a boot swing free over the arm rest.~

Maybe your great, great, great-grandma was one

~She sang too, in the wide open arena. Empty except for the scurrying souls several hundred rows below.~

Witches were wise, wise women they say

~Shouldn't she be screaming? Shitting fire, eating steel? Pounding on something until the sea of ghosts wailed?~

And there's a little witch in every woman today

~Oh, her point was clearly made. The Hell in the Cell hanging above their heads took any doubt of that and cast it aside. Happy Birthday indeed, Veranica Style.~

Witches knew all about flowers and trees

~Betty released a long tail of smoke, thinking how absolutely annoying that young woman had been. Some dime store speaking critique with the vocabulary of common, failing face.~

How to use all their roots and their leaves and their seeds

~Oh yes, she had had her fill of her. Lovelessor. Boom. Tag. Goodbye, and now it was just the two. How many Up and Comers? How many fucking dreamers? Hom many I'm the Futures could she fucking bare?~

When women had babies, the witches were there

~Alice wasn't bothered. Alice didn't care.~

To help them and hold them and give them sweet care

~Betty took a long

hard

breath.~

Some people thought that the witches were bad

~Alice watched the ashes fall.~

Some people were scared of the power they had

~Betty laid back into the row of empty chairs.~

But power to help and to heal and to care
~Alice sighed.~

Isn't something to fear, it's a treasure to share

~The song looped around again.~

[m]

Stalking the halls of the empty arena was one Infamous 187. He was awaiting the start of Absolution. Dressed in a black hooded sweatshirt with the big "187" boxed logo plastered across it. Finally getting some new clothes to wear since getting into the company. He needed it. The homeless look was just not working for him anymore. Black baggy fit jeans covered his legs. Black and white All-Star Converse sneakers on his feet. A red bandana wrapped across his forehead. Just some normal street clothes for now. The show has some time before it starts. No need to be over hasty and jump into his wrestling gear. Not yet anyways. He found himself standing in front of a vending machine. Looking at the choices on the lower right to see what it was he wanted. He reached into his pocket and grabbed ahold of his wallet. Flipping it open. He grabbed a George Washington out and slipped it into the machine's dollar slot. Then he folded his wallet shut, placed it back in his pocket, and reached forward to push the button for the bottled water. Moments later, it dropped in the hole at the bottom. He reached down. Grabbed the water bottle. Pulled it out of the machine. And began back on his way down the hallway. Untwisting the cap on the bottle as he walked, he found an opening leading to the seats where the thousands of fans will soon find themselves in. He lifted the bottle up to his lips and tipped his head back a bit. Taking a quick sip from the bottle, he lowered it and twisted the cap back on. Looking out at the empty seats. He began to nod his head. Tonight was the night to "Wow" the people again. He noticed something though. Well, rather... he noticed someone. Someone sitting in the seats, smoking a cigarette, alone. Meh. He has some time to kill. Might as well check it out. Could prove to be interesting. He knows sitting in his locker room was going to prove to be boring. So... He begins to head down the steps in the middle of the rows. Once he got to the row that they were at, he began to walking into the row towards this person. Finds himself a spot one seat away from where they were. He sat down in the seat. Looking up at the cage hanging above the ring. He knew that thing far too well. Smirk crossing his lips. Shaking his head slightly.

"Someone's in for one hell of a night tonight."

He lifted the bottle back up to his lips. Taking another sip. Hoping to spark conversation with this person.

[Lessien Melwasul]

And there's a little witch in every woman today

~Alice stopped singing as Betty looked up over the tops of the seats. Now, what was that name again? So few of the boys ever came out to play with her. Alice smiled following his eyes to the steel above.~

Hell has no fury.

~Betty lowered her shaded eyes back to the brave, brave boy.~

Like a fucking woman. Period.

~She laughed short and let the cigarette drop from her finger tips. Still trying vaguely to put a name to his face. Most of the "men" wore more make up than she did. It really did make it difficult when they weren't dressed in their transvestite best. Or maybe this one just flew in different circle, like she really cared. Her eyes rested lower on the 187 block print.~

One hundred and eighty seven? One hundred and eighty seven. One. Eight. Seven.

~Both Betty and Alice mused.~

I think I might have heard of those before. Somewhere. Sometime. Oh, someone I am sure.

~Her lips curled as she waited for the official name.~

[m]

He laughed a little bit at what she said. She was a weird one. Talking to herself perhaps? He didn't know. All people were different. He sure was. He had no room to judge. He just began to nod his head slightly.

"Yes, yes. He is I, and I am him. The man with numbers for a name, some call me. Others prefer to call me Murda. But around here? They call me Tha Infamous 187. Or simply just 187 for short. As the name reads here."

He pointed at the logo on the hooded sweatshirt. Then he looked back at her.

"Or Adrian Taylor when it's not professional. Which ever or all the above is fine with me. How about you? What do you like to call yourself?"

[Lessien Melwasul]

What does any woman like to call herself? Hmm?

~Alice cackled almost quietly.~

Queen of the North? The fire in your eyes?

~Betty almost choked on Alice's loose tongue.~

Or how about Lady Lies?

~Alice butted in before he could answer.~

Alice.

Betty. Take your pick, One Hundred and Eighty Seven. The program calls me Lessien.

~Her right boot kicked at the Absolution program she had already dropped on the floor. She gave a lazy salute to whatever name he chose to use.~

Did her beautiful singing hypnotize you like a Harpy and the ship eating rocks? Or do you find The Gateway City a fucking bore too?

~She lowered herself back down on to the chairs, still looking up at the skeletal rafters. Listening to instead of watching One Hundred and Eighty Seven.~

[m]

This could prove to be interesting. She definitely was different. Did happen to talk funny. Seemed to be talking to herself but he didn't know. He just shrugged it off. He figured he might as well just pick her professional name. Probably would be less confusing than the many different names she kind of just threw out there. His atleast made some sense but... Fuck it. That's thinking into it a little much.

"I guess I'll just call ya Lessien."

He looked down at the people below. Getting the show ready. Lifting the bottle back up to his lips. He took a quick sip of water before lowering it again.

"This city hasn't been too appealing from what I've seen. Though... I ain't been through the parts I'm normally used to in this city. But the parts I have seen recently... Nothing too special it seems. Couldn't find much to keep myself entertained in this city. Shits been pretty boring. Ya know?"

Of course, this city had been a bore to him. From sitting in an abandoned building with the homeless just plotting revenge, to finding GCW and getting a contract signed, to now...? Wasn't too entertaining. He hadn't found much to keep him busy. Other than rekindling old hatred for a certain afro headed boxing snitch.

"How's sitting here and watching the show getting set up treating you? Gotta be pretty damn bored ya self to just be sitting here all by your lonesome and waiting for Absolution to begin. Or you got other reasons for sitting here?"

[Lessien Melwasul]

She doesn't play well with others.

~Alice offered in her quieter voice. Quieter when compared to Betty's, but both he could hear quite easily. Pronunciation was never a problem with them.~

We don't play well at all.

~Betty corrected, annoyed at her other half. She knocked a cigarette free from her crumpled pack, and rest it between her curled lips.~

I'm simply visualizing the match before it even happens. All the great souls of history swear by it. Michael Jordan. President Kennedy. Atillah the Hun. They all did the exact same thing.

~She lit the Lucky Strike with a snap of her Zippo, looking up into the smoke that drifted over her head. Alice licked the corner of her mouth before her tongue disappeared back inside.~

There goes Veranica Style's head flying into the steel. Her blood is warm against my skin. I'll remember that later when it's all said and done. She can't quite take a

full

hard

breath because of all the fucked up shit I've done to her before that. The end is near. The end is for all to see. As I shove her

fat

spent

ass back into the ring for the three.

~Betty took another long drag, looking through the gaps in the chairs that separated them.~

I think I'll visualize that a million more times until I make it fucking breath on its own. Surely that's better than anything St. Louis has to offer.

~What a nothing city. Betty dismissed it all with a wave.~

So why don't you tell me page One Hundred and Eighty Seven of Absolution. Absolutism.

~Betty sighed.~

Whatever over dramatic, Roman Catholic, holier than thou crap they are calling this once in a life time event.

~She didn't sound very convinced about that last bit at all.~

[m]

We? Hmm... That would explain the strangeness. Kind of a Gollum and Smeagol type of complex we have here? That would explain the weirdness with this one. This Lessien. A laugh escaped him as she explains her being here. Visualizing a match before it happens. He's been there before. Actually, just got done doing so not too long ago. Cut a little promo before he came on down this way. Strange. Perhaps when two people visualize defeating their opponents, their drawn to each other if close by? Who knows?

"Hahaha... I see, I see. Facing somebody named Veranica Styles? Wonder if she's related to... Probably. Ain't too many people with the name Styles. Fuck it."

Shrugging his shoulders, he pauses for a moment. Watching the people below for a second. Then he continues....

"As for me... For Absolution... I'm practicing rule number one of the K.A.R.A organization. I'm facing a rat in that ring. One red afro-headed ex-boxing rat. One snitchin' sumbitch named Joe fuckin' Bruiser. An old enemy with old hatred from months and months ago. He didn't seem to learn his lesson the last time and stuck his nose in my business once again. So... After you finish decimating Veranica there... We'll see that cage rise up just like that you see.... Depending on where I'm at on the card.... Some people might do there things before me.... But once it's my time... There I come through that curtain you see... Stepping out onto the ramp and coming to the ring... Fans cheer... He comes out here next.... You see that stupid bitch... He comes out and to the ring.... Acting like he's the best.... Bastard.... The bell rings... And there I go... Punching his lips off his face.... Flattening him by stomping him into the mat...Eventually I'll end up snapping his neck in a split second in front of everyone... Let the ref give me that three count.... And off I go back along my merry way to whatever the next thing is that lies in the road ahead... Light one up my damn self and call it a night...."

He began to nod his head slowly. Turning his head to look over at Lessien.

"That's history repeating itself again for me..."

[Lessien Melwasul]

History is a set of lies agreed upon.

History is a guide to navigation in perilous times.

~Another long tail of noxious smoke drifted up from her Cheshire napping self.~

How fortunate you get to carry yours around where ever you go.

~Alice smiled back at him, like a freaky little mirror on the other side of the chair wall.~

[m]

He shrugged his shoulders. Raising an eyebrow as he lifts the bottle of water to his lips again. Sip. He lowered the bottle again.

"Ain't really too many I can see who'd be able to stop crazy train I call my life. Don't know if it's me... Or if it's just these cats these days just don't seem to try anymore."

Tipping his head back and looking up at the cage.

"Tell me about yourself Lessien. I ain't ever heard of you before in this business. Why not give me a brief history lesson in the life of Lessien?"

[Lessien Melwasul]

I'm sure it's hardly worth mentioning, Lover.

~The lies. They were everywhere. From Ohio to Detroit and now Chicago she had cut her trail with the teeth of some of the most well known names in the business today. Crymson? An inbred, training school whore before she met Lessien Melwasul. She heard she was just an inbred whore now. Lilith, dear Lilith. She was already great before Lessien. Lessien simply made her greater. How many more names were there? Fifty? More? They came and went, each wave more forgettable than the last until Betty couldn't remember most of them and Alice just made up new names.~

Besides you're just in time for part three. Less sex. More violence. I'm sure it will just as good as the first two.

Better, I age like wine.

~Betty sat up, letting the cigarette fall next to the other dead soldiers that had stacked up where she had been sitting for hours and hours and hours. She looked at him again, resting he head on her pulled up knees and stretching her stiff limbs.~

Oh yes, you will hear my story tonight if the world still have a sense of worth and I get my hands on the so called Debutante title. Now that would be a long overdue story, and one worth hearing. Anything else is just noise and words from lips.

~She cast an eye sideways for any movements around them.~

[m]

He began nodding his head. He believed in that but at the same time he gave certain things an acception to the matter. Most of the things he's done in the past, he left in the past. But the plotting revenge of his enemies trying to kill him, that was a different matter. Who would let that just be the past? He sure wasn't going to. Nodding his head, he responds...

"I hear that. Too many people try to bring up the past in order to ruffle some feathers. Had to deal with that when it came to the rat. Bringing up false pasts and only but a couple true ones. Dude doesn't know when to stop though. That was always his problem. Never knew when to quit."

Lifting the bottle up to his lips, he took a quick sip. Lowering the bottle. His eyes wandered back up to the cage hanging above their heads.

"Maybe I will check that match of yours out. If it's going to be as good as you say it will, then I might check it out. Depends if I'm not too busy getting ready for my own match. Most likely, I'll probably be watching it while I'm getting ready. Leave the television on and tune in and out from time to time. If I catch yours, I might watch it. "

[Lessien Melwasul]

And maybe I might catch yours, Lover. If it happens to be on and my head turns at just the right time as I catch the reflection of the TV off the mirror in my locker room.

~Betty sighed, pressing her lips together while she pressed her hands aginst the plastic backs of the chairs to rise.~

She may very well see nothing.

Or maybe we'll just see each other again in the next dead end town, Lover. You can tell me about it then.

~Betty looked down at her Kill Time Companion, locking his face away for later before turning for the concrete stairs. Maybe she would never see him again.~

Goodbye, One Hundred and Eighty Seven.

Good luck.

~She turned into one of the tunnels leading into the guts of the building.~

When women had babies, the witches were there