Don't Need A Muse To Dice A Pineapple

CRACK

It was the last sound that registered before her consciousness flickered, wavering mental electricity in a thunderstorm of violence. The very world around her darkened, gradually ceasing to be. The saddest part was that the oncoming cloak of senselessness was completely unexpected, mostly due to its perpetrator.

CRACK

The sound meant more than a shattered nose. A fractured bond; someone she trusted above all else, an invaluable member of her life, bonded sister by more than blood. They were never supposed to hurt her, not like this. A match? That could be forgiven. They'd met twice before. This beating? This savage mugging? The pain that would eventually rush to her face wouldn't compare to the assault on her psyche. She never stood a chance.

CRACK

That sound would haunt her slumber going forward. Any reminders… the pop of a soda can, the smack of a bat during a televised baseball game, even the snapping of a stick; it filled her mind with an explosion of red, a more than generous splattering of blood. And any sight of plasma, whether real or from some fictitious movie, lead her thoughts back to them. Back to what they did.

RIA Lockhart was traumatized. Anna Daniels being the face of her turmoil only made things that much worse.

These thoughts, however, weren't to plague her mind immediately following the heinous encounter towards her person. Lockhart tried to keep her wits about her, but such a task was impossible. Darkness, then she could feel herself lifted. Nothing, then bouncing, despite feeling straps holding her body down. Yelling. She could hear a number of voices, though following them proved to be futile.

“... lost a lot of blood…”

“... need a transfusion…”

“FUCKING HELP HER!”

Her ears grabbed onto the exclamation; the roar carried a familiar tone. Even if things seemed better between them now, was he really there? After the battle they just had? Did she really deserve his sympathy, his accompaniment, his concern?

“Please be okay, Miss Ria!”

The plea, soaked with sorrow, bracketed by sniffles. She shouldn't be here. She shouldn't see her in this state. Both of them… they should be heading off somewhere to talk; maybe a casual diner, or a moonlit park devoid of people. Why? Why did they have to take suffering in her predicament?

RIA could feel her mind wander. The blonde hair with black hombre ends, those dark painted lips curled into a smirk, the shining maliciousness of their green eyes… that's not how she wanted to think of Anna. That's not how she wanted to remember them.

“Occasionally, you have to go a bit mad…”

That piece of sisterly advice echoed in her head. The Psychoberry had worked so hard to get herself in order; she was taking her meds regularly, something she had slacked off on long ago. She was seeing a therapist weekly. She meditated daily. So many steps were being taken to stay in control. But maybe… loosening of the collar was in order?

“Did we tell you that we missed you yet?”

RIA had so badly wanted to hear that from people when coming back from her first rehab stint. Sure, ‘nice to have you back’ might be adequate for some and she did appreciate hearing it. But those exact words? They meant more. And hearing them from Anna? Her heart sang. The distance, the time apart, all was forgotten with that gentle question.

Was this her fault? Even if The Muse had crossed a line, was this closeness crumbling due to Lockhart’s conduct? She could've been better. She could've been there for them. She could have supported them, even if she didn't agree with or like their machinations. She could have–

Stop it.

Despite the attempt to be gentle, the words rattled harshly back and forth in her skull. The voice… her voice.

I always thought the best of Anna. Even when others tried to tear them down, I didn't join in. I did my best to be there. Did they ever bother to sit down and talk to me about any problems? No. Did they ever express them outside of passive aggressive bullshit? No. At some point, I need to put some of the blame for all of this on Anna. They're the one that tried to push my face outside the back of my skull. Why the fuck should I be the guilty one?!

This was the final bit of cognition she could muster as the mask covered her nose and mouth, the rubber outline forming a seal. The anesthesia seeped up the tube, gently wafting into the mask before being inhaled by Lockhart. The random pauses of thought and blackouts she experienced on the way to the hospital were soon to transition to a far lengthier swoon. But even as alertness slowly drained further from her body, the phrase continued to loop in her mind…

Why the fuck should I be the guilty one?!

Why the fuck should I be the guilty one?!

The fuck…

be the guilty one?...

I'm sure you're very proud of yourself, sis. You're getting what you want. At least I'm assuming you are. Lord fuckin’ knows I can't begin to understand what goes on in that head of yours. On top of all that, ain't like you've ever been interested in telling me any more than you have to. Maybe that's where my frustration with all of this lies?

Arms length. That's where I've always been for you. Close enough if you need me, but far away enough that I can't fully hurt you. You let that scraggly looking piece of shit get close cuz he said some words that apparently resonated with you. You let the Whoresmen get close, despite the fact that they're all objectively awful fuckin’ people.

Huh.

Think I just had an epiphany.

You once said I exhausted and irritated you with how clingy I was. Turns out I was every bit as exhausted and irritated at being frozen out. Gaslight me all you want, the fuckin’ fact of the matter is you pushed me aside multiple times!

I saw your interview while I was out. You giggled about Vae Victis not taking action. That was because I told them not to. You really think Kerry and Scott weren't ready to stomp you into a chaotic puddle of blood and bones? And impartial as LT tries to be, you think she would've tried to stop them?

Yet when the motherfuckers you've attached to decided to kick the fuck outta me, you gave a warning, then stayed out of it. Oh yeah, you stopped Rob from setting me on fire. Well fuckin’ thanks for that! Sister of the god damn year material right there! And even after that bullshit, I STILL TRIED WITH YOU!

No more trying. You want me mad? You want me to fight? I don't fully fuckin' know what you want. But if that's the depth of it… Congratulations, Anna. Fight’s on.

“Jesus Christ, Ri, you look like shit.”

Janelle Loper stood in the doorway of the room RIA Lockhart had been assigned to for recovery. A bouquet of pink and orange roses, beautifully arranged, sat in a vase gently clutched in her hands. The woman who once held tag title gold with RIA strode into the space, light peeking through a curtained window beckoning to her. Janelle placed the plants on the sill, bathing them in the bit of sun that had navigated past the drapes.

That task fulfilled, she plopped herself down into a thinly padded metal chair. Loper’s eyes scanned over her friend of two decades and years in change. Lockhart’s face, in particular the regions near her nose, were puffy, swollen. Her eyes were forced into a squint, thanks to the inflammation inside her cheeks. RIA’s bottom eyelids bore heavy discoloration; yellow, purple, blue and black splotching, as if a three year old used the area for their first art project. The stitch work was exquisite, at least, though noticeable if one looked close enough.

“How you feeling?” Janelle asked softly, despite the visual evidence given. A strained chuckle forced its way out from RIA’s throat.

“Considering it looks like I tried to fight a chainsaw with my face, not that bad.” Lockhart responded. “They got me on some good painkillers, so it hasn't been awful.”

A small frown slid across Loper's face, her eyebrows furrowing.

“You think it's alright if you take those?” She questioned. The previous overdose, the one that had caused potentially irreparable damage to RIA’s mind, wormed its way to the front of Janelle’s cerebral locomotive. A weak wave of the hand from Lockhart.

“I'm only taking them as needed.” The Psychoberry assured her. “If the pain really starts bugging me, I ask for it. Otherwise, I'm doing my best to deal.”

Loper nodded softly. Silence filled the room, the byproduct of concern. Even with the pledge from RIA, her friend worried and would no doubt continue to do so. Lockhart could see her slumped shoulders, her eyes cast downward, the absence of her trademark smirk.

“I've had a lot of visitors.” RIA mentioned in a bid to ward off the discomfort gripping the meeting. Janelle straightened up in her chair a bit, a small smile creeping across her face.

“Yeah? Anyone worth mentioning?”

“The expected.” Lockhart said with a shrug. “Nate and Kohime apparently rode in the ambulance with me, even though I barely remember that. Kerry and Ami. Scott and Clay, though Clay was awkward as fuck when he was here. Henry and LT. Tom also sent flowers. Bex and Angel have been in a few times. Angel’s tried to be all tough and shit, but Bex told me she always starts bawling on the way home.”

Loper couldn't help but have a hearty laugh at that information. Though Janelle and RIA didn't talk much (the duo might exchange texts about once a month), she was well aware of who Angel Quinley was.

“Aww… you're just a damsel in distress, your fair lady all worried about you!” Jani joked. Lockhart scoffed, her head lightly wagging from side to side. Her line of sight jumped from Loper over to the window, where it stayed focused.

“It's not quite that.” Lockhart muttered. “Angel saw the work I did after I got back from traveling. She knows how much wrestling means to me. She's not mourning because I'm in pain. She's pissed because I'm missing more time after just getting back. Two steps forward, one step back. Like I'm on a fuckin' hamster wheel.”

“And she knows you feel that way.” Janelle stated, her tone gentle. RIA nodded.

“I've bitched to her plenty.”

Janelle crossed her arms over her chest, one leg swinging over top of the other. Leaning back, she bit her lip.

“And I'm gonna venture a guess that Anna isn't her favorite person?”

Lockhart snorted, her attention finally drawing from the window as she laid back in the bed, eyes towards the ceiling.

“I'm not sure she ever really liked Anna that much.” The Psychoberry confessed. “They've had spats over jabber, though they tried to play nice here and there too. I'm starting to wonder if the last few times weren't Anna trying to indirectly fuck with me through her.”

“You think they'd really do that?” Her friend asked. Lockhart slowly sat up, her lips curling inward momentarily.

“Probably not… But who the fuck’s to say? I never expected them to be the reason I ended up in intensive care AGAIN, but here we are.”

The conversation paused. Janelle focused on a small spot on the ground as a momentary distraction while Lockhart flopped back, gazing upwards once again. It was Loper that broke the silence once more.

“You're gonna fuck her up, right?” The question carried plenty of demand in tone. RIA pushed herself back into a sitting position before locking eyes with her friend. A smile, the first Jani had seen since entering the room, forced its way into Lockhart’s lips.

“Why you asking questions you already know the answer to?”

I still have more I could say to you, Anna. I dunno if you see what you've done, where this is going, as freedom from burden. Maybe if our ties are severed, it makes it easier for you to be a shit bag? Maybe I held you back in some way? If you feel any of that to be true, you've made a foolish fuckin' mistake. Because now, instead of me being a moral or philosophical problem, I plan to be a very physical and present one! There's more I wanna say, but someone else has been given the unfortunate task of dealing with me as I am at the moment.

Bryan Dawkins. Dawk. Bruh. A guy I once respected. You remember talking shit to me, right? Won't lie, I don't exactly remember what was said, but I do remember you gulped down that red Kool-aid. Pretty sure I remember you joining in on Ivan mocking me. Well now we'll be face to face. All that stuff would be sufficient enough motivation for me to stomp your ass out so badly that you start leaking pineapple juice. But the Daniels sized chip on my shoulder ain't doing much to keep my mood level.

It's funny… I'd like to side with you when it comes to your beef with Max Kael. Fuck Max. I'll happily repeat that time and time again. And messing with someone's family? It's a good way to bring out the worst in someone, to make a monster out of a man. But you ain't facing him in the ring at 77. You're facing me: The motherfuckin’ Phoenix of PRIME. Even if you think I'm dead, you better double check that grave to make sure I'm still in it!

Go ahead and try to channel your anger at Max towards me, the way I'll be channeling my anger at Anna towards you. What else you got? Me being mean to you cuz you joined a group of dickheads that you know are dickheads, knew were dickheads and will continue to be dickheads? When you did that, I viewed it as a betrayal; not towards me, so much. More towards PRIME. Towards Nobody's Heroes. Towards your own fuckin’ morals. You've failed yourself, Dawk. I just happen to get to be the one to show you how badly.

She flipped it upside down, then right side up. Rotated it. Discerning eyes scanned the object from every possible angle.

“I fuckin' hate it.” RIA Lockhart sneered while sitting on the couch of her Vegas apartment. The object of her distain was a face shield; clear, heavy plastic, with thick black straps. “I'm gonna look like Rip fuckin’ Hamilton…”

“It is not so bad, Miss Ria.” The ever chipper Kohime Mori countered, seated next to RIA. “At least you will be able to wrestle, right?”

This was a concession Lockhart had agreed to in order to get herself back on the road leading up to Colossus. She had missed out on UltraViolence and narrowly made it back for Ascension. Missing the big year end event wasn't an option; especially with what lead to her missing time. Still… she hated this fuckin' thing.

“We could decorate it with stickers!” The Moé Monster suggested with glee. “We could make it look really cute!”

Lockhart side-eyed her friend. A number of rude thoughts and words cycled through her head. That's where they would stay. Despite her lack of satisfaction over this situation, RIA knew Kohime was doing what she did best; trying to turn a negative into a positive. Even still, that didn't mean Mori’s plan had her approval.

“Yeah, no.” Lockhart bluntly replied. She knew leaving the topic there would be an unneeded jab towards Kohime's feelings, so she followed up. “It's just a temporary thing until I'm fully cleared. The moment I'm told I can ditch it, it's going in the trash. No point in putting the effort into decorating it.”

Mori nodded, doing her best to temper the disappointment creeping into her eyes. The fact that her friend was now out of the hospital and back home was reason enough to be happy. Besides which, RIA had a point; if she planned to discard the mask at her earliest convenience, why waste perfectly good stickers on it? Another thought zoomed in, cutting off the previous internal debate over sticker value.

“You don't think Mr. Dawkins will try to take it off of your face, do you?” Kohime questioned, her tone timid. The Psychoberry chuckled ruefully. While Mori’s sweet nature was incredibly endearing, it came with the drawback of naivety.

“Before he joined the Red Army? Maybe not.” Lockhart postulated. “Now? I can pretty much guarantee it. It might not be immediate, but I'm certain he'll take a chance at it eventually. Honestly? I'd wager some big bills that a good chunk of the roster would do the same.”

RIA had overestimated the depths of Kohime's innocence. She knew what Lockhart was saying was true. Factual as it might have been, it didn't mean she liked it. What if someone else tried to rip away the protective mask? What if another person didn't just try to win, but really tried to hurt her? What if Anna…

The Japanese woman's mind wandered. Something the Time Lord had said stuck with Mori, gnawed at her. ‘You think Lockhart's innocent!’ The sentence had been a mental thorn in the side of her brain, one she did her best to ignore. But there it was again… impaled. Irritating. She couldn't stop the words from coming out.

“What did Anna mean when they said I thought you were innocent?”

Darn it! Darn it darn it darn it! She wanted to cover her Judas of a mouth hole, but it would do no good now. The question hung in the air, a meteor threatening to crash down and obliterate the land around it. The way Lockhart looked at her… that unreadable expression only troubled her further.

“Dunno.” RIA answered plainly. “I guess, for them, they believe I brought this action on in some way… that I provided them reason enough to attack me.”

While relieved the Psychoberry showed next to no irritation at the question, her answer only filled Mori with further confusion.

“How?!” Kohime spat, exasperated. “How would you have brought it on?! What would you have done to cause such a terrible thing?!”

RIA saw the way Mori’s eyes glistened. She heard the way her voice cracked. This wasn't just about not wanting her to get hurt; it was feeling as though the Moé Monster herself had been double crossed. Lockhart haphazardly tossed the mask onto the empty space on her right. Her left hand reached over, her nails lightly danced up and down the young woman's back.

“Anna's not just gonna give me that answer at this point. ” The Psychoberry said gently. “I'm assuming they're gonna make me earn it in some way. What that means exactly, I can't say. Anyway, I gotta focus on Dawkins for now. Anna can wait.”

Between the pleasant sensation touring round her back and the pacifying tone of voice, RIA had managed to quell the unrest residing inside Kohime to some degree. But the question of ‘how?’ continued to echo inside. And Mori had a plan to get the answers she wanted…

In theory, you and I are in similar positions in our groups, Dawk. Low on the totem pole. The expendable ones. But you know the difference, yeah? If I said that in front of any Vae Victis member, I'd get a damn lecture about how untrue it is. How much I matter. You think Rose would tell you something similar? Alexei? This is the company you chose, Bryan. YOU. At least when Coral was dicking around with the Bandits, it wasn't completely of his free will.

Even if you have ulterior motives, you sure made the effort to assimilate. You buddied up to bullies and decided that's the attitude you wanted to emulate. But you know how this goes, right? Every bully eventually gets their comeuppance at some point. Now you might hear that and take it to heart towards Max Kael. You ain't that far down the road yet, bud. And quite frankly, you ain't even on the right side of it anyway. Max Kael being a bigger piece of shit than you ain't a ringing endorsement.

My suggestion to you? Start planning your apology to Ivan. On the plus side, you might not even be the biggest embarrassment to the Red Army on 77. It shouldn't have been this way. You had support, ya know? People cared. Not just fans either, you had people in the locker room that would've had your back. Instead, you chose to whore yourself out. Consequences, Bryan. That's the name of the game here. Unfortunately for you, I'm your punishment; and I'm fresh out of sympathy.