MIXTAPES AND A MEMORY-MAKER

Mixtape You Can Kick Your Frenemy’s Ass To - Side A

Get Back - Ludacris Check Yo Self (Remix) - Ice Cube feat. Das EFX X Gon’ Give It To Ya - DMX Break Ya Neck - Busta Rhymes Knuck If You Buck - Crime Mob feat. Lil’ Scrappy WAM / Another One Bites The Dust (Veggi Mix) - A$AP Ferg feat. MadeInTYO and Queen Forgot About Dre - Dr. Dre feat. Eminem I Don’t Feel Hate - Jendrik Sigwart

August 22, 2025 Columbus, OH During the ReVival 74 Pre-Main Event Commercial Break…

“Where the HELL is he?”

Lindsay stormed through Argyle like a late summer squall line along I-70, her voice booming thunder and crackling lightning. Moments ago, Matt Ward had bamboozled her in the ring in front of 20,000 of his fellow Buckeyes; instead of announcing the yearly main event multiman match for Culture Shock Night Two, the Inhuman Being elected to go rogue and “get a few things off his chest.”

Those “few things” being an early Festivus “Airing of the Grievances” against the ReVival Era, the new crop of PRIME talent, and - specifically - his boss and friend, the Queen herself.

Some friend, she thought, her face twisting involuntarily into a snarl. She flung a chair out of her way and marched through the hallway. Staffers who crossed her path immediately made themselves scarce, not wanting to incur her wrath any further than the self-professed Anti-PRIME already had.

As she passed by the catering area, she nearly steamrolled Doug Tim, who stepped through the doorway carrying an armful of water bottles.

“Doug,” Lindsay blurted, quickly helping to catch some of the wobbling water. “You happen to see where Matt Ward went?”

The staffer froze; the last interaction he had with The Boss was when he had to beg for his job after putting a shock collar on Richard Parker. To say the Queen was not amused would be putting it lightly. Since then, Doug kept it on the straight and narrow…and avoided Troy as much as possible.

Until now.

Doug cleared his throat and motioned down the hall with his head. “He was headed toward the exit.”

Lindsay frowned, darkly. “Of course. Thanks.” She unclipped the walkie-talkie at her hip and continued down the hallway, this time at a jog. “Dam?”

“Yeah Boss?”

“Matt’s headed to the parking lot; I’m on my way there. See if you can stop him from leaving. He and I need to have a conversation about whatever that bullshit was he just pulled.”

“Going that way now, Boss.”

The Queen quickened her pace, heels clacking against the tile. It wasn’t long before she spotted the designated talent entrance and exit…and Matt Ward rapidly closing in.

“Hey…HEY!” More thunder roared from her mouth. “The FUCK was that back there?”

The brick wall of Ward’s back did not reply.

“MATT. What the hell! ANSWER ME!”

Nothing. Lindsay clenched her teeth angrily and sped up. She heard Dam’s heavy footfalls not far behind her.

“You’re gonna fucking WALK AWAY and IGNORE ME, you salty little BIMCH? After you went off and blindsided me out there like that? YOU HEAR OF A PHONE, MOTHERFUCKER? YOU COULD’VE CALLED IF YOU WERE BIG MAD LIKE THIS.”

Ward’s hand grasped the door handle and carelessly flung it open. It ricocheted off the outside wall with a resounding echo and then slammed back into place.

“Ugh, dickhead!” she hissed, opening the same door Matt walked through. She stopped about 10 feet out and gave the parking lot a quick sweep with her eyes, but she wasn’t fast enough. Halfway down the first row, headlights flashed on and a black SUV peeled out of a parking spot and sped off into the night.

Lindsay folded her arms and watched the vehicle disappear from view. Dam pulled up beside her, hands on his hips.

“Sorry, Boss.”

“It’s alright, Dam.”

They stood in silence for a couple minutes. Eventually, Lindsay snorted and shook her head.

“He never looked back.” The offense in her voice was noticeable. “Not even once. Said he was going to run me over, then couldn’t even face me again.”

Dam took a slow breath -  in for four, then out for four.

“That’s some punk shit though, Boss. All of it. Friends don’t do that shit.”

Lindsay bit her lip, thinking it over.

“No. No, they don’t.”

No, but really, HAVE YOU HEARD OF A PHONE, MATTHEW?

IT’S REAL EASY TO USE.

YOU PRESS A BUNCH OF NUMBERS ON A KEYPAD.

AND VIA A SATELLITE.

UP IN THE AIR.

YOU’RE CONNECTED TO SOMEONE ELSE TO MAKE THE YARBLEGARBLE MOUTH NOISES THAT FORM WORDS.

…

Maybe we need to go back to preschool and play with Ms. Rachel’s Learning Phone because you threw a whole ass tantrum in the ring and acted like a fucking toddler.

…

…

Why don’t we just call what you did what it really was, Matt.

That was some fuckboi shit.

Some bitchmade mid pussy fuckboi shit.

You FEWLT SOME BIG FEEWINGS OUT THERE IN THAT WING, and rather than act like an adult about it, you took a big shit in your Huggies.

Please show me on the doll where I hurt you.

Is it where I showed unwavering faith in you being able to get back in the ring after a decade away despite knowing how shot your knees were?

Is it where I made you my first phone call when I decided I wanted to get the band back together?

Is it where I confided in you that I thought I was being disrespectful by wrestling Craig three years ago because you and I promised each other we’d be our last PRIME match, and you said I was doing it for a good reason? Because there was no one else Craig wanted to end his career with.

You have no right to criticize me. None. You ran instead of sticking around to fight for PRIME in the face of adversity. Whatever you hate about what this new PRIME has become, you were nowhere to be fucking found to try and change what you didn’t like. Or even come to me about what you didn’t like. 

No. Gotta do things in the most dickish way possible.

…

And you know what else? Fuck you for blaming me for Georgie. That shit’s on YOU. YOU made the choice not to be supportive of her getting into the business. Taking that out on me is weak.

Dragging around two fake titles is cringe.

And the thing is, it wasn’t that long ago when I felt the same way you do right now. Both Kaz and Ami knew I didn’t want them to get into wrestling either. Kaz had a full ride to RISD, but his heart wasn’t a hundred percent in the fine arts. Once his cousin Cecilia started training with me, he dropped out and started training as well.

I wasn’t happy, but I was supportive, because I believe my kids need to make their own decisions. Even if they’re decisions they don’t like.

It’s called being an adult.

You should try it sometime. 

November 16, 2025 Las Vegas, NV Early Morning

Rain in Vegas happened once in a blue moon. Lindsay watched it plop on her patio from underneath the retractable awning, and wished it would help relax her.

The days and nights were getting cooler as fall had firmly settled in across the Entertainment Capital of the World, and a passing storm front brought with it temps in the low 40s.

She wanted fresh air to help her think. Hoped the steady rhythm of raindrops would focus her. Real-life white noise, not from an app or a sound machine. But all her thoughts were a jumble, too many emotions fighting for superiority in her headspace.

Sympathy: One of my longest friends lost his wife of over 20 years. I can’t imagine. I’d be shattered if it was Wade.

Guilt: Did I miss a sign? Did I need a sign to figure it out? 

Confusion: Why didn’t he just tell me? Why did he deal with that himself? 

Anger: Wait, hold on. Why the hell do I feel guilty? I shouldn’t feel guilty; apology or not HE TREATED ME LIKE SHIT. THIS IS NOT THE FIRST TIME, LINDSAY, HE DOES NOT GET A PASS, AND NOT EVERY APOLOGY NEEDS TO BE ACCEPTED.

Her brow furrowed in concentration as the mental argument that only she could hear continued between her ears. It got louder; so much so that she didn’t hear the glass door slide open and Wade Elliott slip outside.

The Bad Dog slid over to his wife and wrapped his burly arms around her body. Lindsay jumped slightly, then sighed, contently. She leaned back against him and put her hands on his forearms.

“Whattya need?” Wade sleepily asked her curls.

Another sigh. This one wasn’t so light; it weighed two hundred twenty-seven pounds, and she’d been carrying it since Ohio.

“This,” she closed her eyes. A couple seconds went by, then she smirked. “And help me throw him in the ditch fields after I get done with him in a few weeks.”

Wade huffed. “Just tell me where’t’dig th’hole.”

Lindsay pulled his arms around her tighter. Silence settled over them like an afghan. It was broken with a whisper.

“I’m so angry at him, Wade.”

She took a ragged breath.

“I feel guilty that I’m angry at him because he lost Mary. It’s devastating. Then I feel angry that I feel guilty about my anger, because as awful as I feel for him and the kids, he didn’t have to do what he did to PRIME or to me. He had so many other options, and those are the ones he chose.”

“Yer preachin’ to the choir,” he chuckled. “I felt that way ‘bout my father after he…did what he did. An’...

A beat from the Bad Dog.

“...an’ after all the shit I put you through. Way back when.”

Lindsay tilted her head so she could look over her shoulder at Wade. “Y’know, it’s funny. He’s doing what you used to do back then that ruined our friendship so many times: keeping everything bottled up instead of leaning on people and letting them in.” She scowled. “He knows better. He’s got a doctorate in psychology, for Christ’s sake.”

Wade gave her a wry smile. “That mean I get a pass?”

“Oh no, no pass for you, you definitely knew better too, you stubborn jerk.” Lindsay now turned around to face him and slid her arms around his neck. “Matt’s also a stubborn jerk; the difference is he’s probably told people to share their feelings and got paid $250 an hour to do it.”

“I prefer our gig. I’d rather beat th’hell out’ve folks when they deserve it. An’ do it with you.”

“I know, me too." She pulled him tighter. "Whether Matt knows it or not, he gave me the venue to take out my frustrations on all the bullshit I’ve dealt with this year; Ivan, Alexei, all the Whoresmen, the Max and Dawkins thing. And with my Colossus Streak on the line...I'm pulling out every stop to keep it perfect, no matter the expense.”

She smiled and kissed him. “Plus, I get to watch Fred die, and see you become a champ again. Christmas is coming early.”

So I guess I’m just supposed to forgive you now.

You felt this wave of remorse and now I guess everything’s supposed to be all good because you apologized.

I’m not so sure I’m ready to call us good because you all of a sudden you got with the program and decided being a raging jackass who takes his first and second stages of grief out on me wasn’t a good look.

You talked all this bullshit, and not only did you have the nerve to still ask for this match, but you told me to start training.

Start. Training.

Start. Training.

You may be approaching cave man years but I didn’t think you lived under a rock.

I know when we promised each other we’d be our last PRIME match, I didn’t do what you did and stop wrestling completely. I’ve been going since the better part of 2014, and I’ve only gotten better and more dangerous with age.

Start training?

Matt, I stay ready so I don’t have to get ready.

I am conflicted about whether or not to forgive you, though; in full or in part. 

I’ve lost many people that I’ve loved, but I’ve never known the pain of a spouse’s death. I hope I never have to; I hope I’m the one that goes first, not Wade.

It took us both so long to get a clue and stop denying what we both felt.

But is the pain of losing Mary enough for me to put aside the hurt you’ve caused me without giving it its proper consideration?

I feel like this is where I ultimately land with people. It gets to be so tiring. 

And quite frankly, I hoped one of my closest friends - who I admired and respected - knew he could’ve leaned on me when he needed, or talked to me when something bothered him - both personally and professionally. 

But that’s not what happened.

I told you this wasn’t a normal “family butting heads” fight.

Families fight. Real families don’t destroy.

You tried to destroy everything I worked so hard to rebuild. After years of being mired in a Pit without many bright spots, I needed to bring one back. One of the brightest ones of my career. PRIME is more than just a ReVival, and I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. What I care about is it being the cup of tea for our fans and for the people who are here.

You would’ve known that if you didn’t leave.

Instead you came back and tried to wreck it.

I will go full fucking force at anyone who tries to ruin what I - and others - have rebuilt. 

You may have apologized for your behavior. I believe you meant it. One day, I may accept that apology.

It won’t be at Colossus.

At Colossus, I'm giving you what you want: one last match, with the one person you want to end your career with.

But I'm not giving you forgiveness.

December 6, 2025 8 Hours ‘Til Showtime

It’s 10 days shy of three years since the last time she sat on the ramp as a Colossus competitor and watched the crew work.

The Queen of the Ring sat in her warm-up gear: neon pink, electric blue, bright white, and sparkly silver Nikes, a Vae Victis “Besties in the World” matching hooded jogger set in those same colors, and a pair of oversized headphones. Her head lightly bopped to the beat in her ears, the ends of her curls skimmed along her shoulders and her eyes locked on the ring at the bottom of the ramp.

Tonight would be the fourth time she and Matt would face off, and it would be the third time at a Colossus. They closed out an era once before, the era of ReVolution; this time it would be the the Inhuman Being’s ReVival, for better or for worse.

Three years ago, Matt Ward sat beside her and they reminisced about the old days, and the night to come. That wouldn't be happening tonight. Any talking they do this evening will be with their fists.

The Queen was ready. Been ready, ever since that August night in Columbus. She wasn't so sure Matt was, but she'd soon find out.

Out of the corner of her right eye, she noticed a figure sitting down next to her. White and navy vintage Chucks come together criss-cross applesauce, and blonde hair peeks along the edge of her black Troy Combat Systems hoodie. She slips her headphones off her ears and lets them drop along her neck.

“Ami said you were out here.” Georgie Ward watched a cameraman run wire along the side of the ramp. “Said you were ‘getting in the zone’ or ‘vaporizing the ring,’ she couldn’t tell.”

Lindsay chuckled. “If I vaporized the ring, I’d have to fine myself for destruction of PRIME property and then I’d just be giving Alexei Ruslan free ammo that he absolutely doesn’t need.”

Georgie nodded after a beat. “That guy’s kind of a dick.”

“Kiddo, you’ll find that most people in this business are kind of dicks.” Lindsay looked at her young student. “You either have to find the ones that are your kinds of dicks, or find the ones who aren’t dicks at all. And believe me, those are very hard to find.”

“Yeah, I believe it,” Georgie quipped. "Don't have to look too farther than the family tree."

“Listen kiddo," the Queen threw her arm around Georgie and looked at her. "No matter what happens, everything is gonna be alright. It may take some time, but I think your dad and I will work it out. We always have, when things have gone south with us. We just need to get through some therapy in the ring first, and then some therapy at the bar."

She paused.

"It just might take more than a couple sessions this time."

"I think you guys will get back to normal." Georgie leaned into the hug. "He and I did. Just took a little bit. But we're getting there."

"Yeah." Lindsay said. She gazed back at the ring. "Just gotta get there."

Mixtape You Can Reconcile With Your Friends And Family To - Side B

That’s What Friends Are For - Dionne Warwick Wind Beneath My Wings - Bette Midler Lean On Me - Bill Withers With A Little Help From My Friends - The Beatles For Good - Kristen Chenoweth and Idina Menzel Thank You For Being A Friend - Andrew Gold