a oNE wOMAN rIOT

[Tiffany White]

PROMO #10 - a oNE wOMAN rIOT

Everything is white.

The light is blinding, and I can't see anything at all.

I can't feel anything beneath my feet, almost as if I'm floating in space.

My ears are assaulted by a high pitched noise.

It's obvious this shouldn't be real, but that thought never crosses my mind.

I'd scream if I could, if only my mouth was actually there.

Instead, there is only a blank spot on my face.

Beneath the noise, I hear a voice.

"Tiffany..."

"Tiffany, you alright?"

Eventually, the high pitched noise turns to a scream.

The scream of an infant.

My eyes slowly adjust to the light.

And I see it.

It is giant, unnerving in it's size.

And it's staring right at me with it's tiny eyes.

The eyes of the aborted seed of Chance von Crank.

It's open mouth roaring in pain.

"You're mumbling and sweating everywhere Tiffany..."

The screams are drowned out by the sound of a vacuum.

Blood pours out of the unborn child's tear ducts.

I try to take my eyes off it, but can't move my head.

It begins to slowly disintegrate.

As the child screams in agony, one word escapes it's lips.

"Why?"

The other voice begins to get louder.

"Tiffany? Can you hear me?"

And mercifully, I wake up.

---

I opened my eyes and found myself staring at another hotel ceiling, sweating bullets. My breathing was deep, the images of the dream still fresh in my head. To my side was Victoria, the girl I had met in Texas right before Timebomb. Dressed in a plain white t-shirt and sweats, she looked concerned for me.

Victoria: You okay Tiff? You're dripping with sweat.

Tiffany: Just a dream. Nothing to be worried about.

Victoria: Nothing to be worried about? If it's freaking you out as much as it is, it's definitely a problem.

Tiffany: I'll be okay, trust me. It's just a byproduct of everything that's been going on, it'll pass.

Victoria: I sure hope so. You ought to go towel of or something, you feel disgusting just being next to me.

I conceded with her on that point, I must've smelled like I had just gotten out of the ring. I got up and out of bed, walking in the dark to the bathroom.

Oh yeah, I should probably explain why the hell Victoria is still with me.

---

PREVIOUSLY ON TIFFANY WHITE...

Victoria: Fuck. He told me they’d be gone all night. If they see me in this they’ll fucking kill me.

Say what now? Why would a Tiff White shirt drive someone to potentially commit murder. Then I began snooping around the closet, and in the darkness, I began to make out the design of one of the shirts. It was an adult sized Chance von Crank shirt.

OH.

DEAR.

AND NOW THE THRILLING CONCLUSION.

You ever seen one of those spy movies, and they have a scene where the main character is, you know, spying, and he's forced to hold his breath lest he be heard by the enemy? I always watched those scenes and thought to myself "Hah, it's probably not that hard."

IT IS THAT HARD.

You just don't know how much your body needs oxygen until your purposefully denying it to yourself. As the footsteps of the presumable father of Victoria entered the home, I did my best to not make a single motion. I couldn't see much, but I managed catch a brief glimpse of the man just entering the scene. A portly man with a solid round beer belly, he looked like he was dressed in blue jeans and a t-shirt that barely fit him. And of course, he had a mustache. Because that's just a thing for terrible men. Mustaches. He spoke in a heavy Redneck accent, like a cross between Larry the Cable Guy and Billy Ray Cyrus.

Father: I'm back, Victoria.

Victoria: Hey dad. How was the pool tournament?

Father: I was the only one on my team who could win. Typical night. You went out at all young lady?

Victoria: No sir, I stayed home just like you said.

Father: I knew you'd learn eventually. Grab me a beer, I'mma sit down for a bit.

I hear her dad plop his rotund ass down on the couch, as well as the fridge opening, then closing.

Victoria: Here you go.

Father: Thank you, darlin'.

A small silence. Victoria takes a seat in the kitchen, as father begins mindlessly flipping through TV channels.

Victoria: Where's mom?

Father: She got tipsy at the bar, let her spend the night at her sister's house.

Victoria: You think she'll be back tomorrow? I need to talk to her about school.

Father: Oh for Christ's sake, not THIS again...

Victoria: Dad! you know I don't wanna spend my whole in this trailer, I wanna go to school and get a REAL job!

Father: We've been through this a million times, that school is just too damn expensive, and I dunno about you, but I dunno any damn magic money trees sprouting around anywhere nearby.

Victoria: But I could get a scholarship and-

Father: NO! For the last time Victoria, it just isn't in the picture. So stop trying to make it happen.

An awkward silence. Five or so minutes go by without a single word being spoken. The father starts the conversation back up, as I hear the start of a Timebomb TV commercial begin.

Father: You heard about what Chance finally did?

Victoria: What?

Father: Finally took that bitch Pixie back and sucked the baby right out of her. Posted it online too.

An audible gasp escapes Victoria's lips. I had neglected to tell her that was the reason I was getting all drunk by myself. Now she understood everything.

Father: Chance is gonna fuckin murder Tiffany in the cage. I guar-ran-tee it.

Victoria: Oh my god.

Father: I knew you wouldn't like that bit of news. Tough shit, deal with it.

Victoria: I'll never understand why you like that asshole, dad.

Father: Cause he ain't afraid to tell it like it is, that's fucking why.

Victoria: Sure, yeah. That's why. Nevermind the fact that he's a hateful sexist pig. The man aborted a fetus live on the internet! How can you forgive that!

Father: Victoria, are you turnin into one of them Tiffany supporters? I fucking told you what would happen if you did.

Victoria: So what if I am!? I'm a grown woman, I can cheer for whoever the fuck I want!

Father: You're NINETEEN Victoria! You're not a woman! You've never even been with a man yet! How can you be a woman if you aren't put to your full potential?

I couldn't. I just couldn't fucking take it anymore. If I listened to this asshole talk for even a few seconds more I would've had a brain hemorrhage. I opened the door to the closet, yet remain hidden.

Father: The fuck is that noise? WHO'S THERE?

Tiffany: The woman you were just talking shit about.

I emerged from the closet, walking into the living room. Victoria's dad was (appropriately,) speechless.

Father: Whu-whu-WHAT?! VICTORIA, how'd you let this...this BITCH in my house!?

Victoria: Why the fuck should I tell you, ASSHOLE.

Father: VICTORIA RENEE DEAMER, I AM YOUR FATHER, AND I. WILL. NOT. LET YOU TALK TO ME LIKE-

SMACK!

I'm not like most girls. I don't slap, I fucking PUNCH. And lemme tell ya, it never felt so good to punch a guy in the face.

Tiffany: Can it, fatty.

He started rubbing his cheek in pain. Man oh man, did he look pissed off.

Father: You think you're tough shit, eh broad? Coming into MY house, whispering GOD KNOWS what in my daughter's ear to give her all these big ideas about goin to school. She's staying here, and there ain't a DAMN thing you can do about it.

Tiffany: You seem a little angry, Mister. Have you been drinking tonight?

My sarcastic little tone only served to make him angrier. Even if this did land me in a world of pain, it was still pretty damn funny at the very least.

Father: What does it matter to you?

Tiffany: If I may be so bold as to ask...where is your wife, mister?

Father: The fuck you askin me all these questions for?

Tiffany: Didn't you mention something about her being at her sisters?

Father: Yeah. And?

Tiffany: Any reason why you brought her there?

Father: Cause she was drunk and needed a place to stay.

Tiffany: No no...why did you REALLY bring her there? If she needed a place to stay couldn't you just bring her here. No, there must be a different reason.

Father: What are you trying to imply, you lesbo whore?

Victoria: Dad....did you...

Father: Stay out of this.

Victoria: Dad...

Father: I SAID STAY OUT OF IT!

Victoria: Have you been beating mom again?

His expression said it all. The fluster of his drunken red face answered her question without a single word.

Tiffany: I should've known as such. What a fuckin pity, I tell ya. Drunk redneck man beats wife. Time-old tale, and one I'm seriously sick of hearing.

Father: YOU SHUT UP! YOU DON'T KNOW HALF THE GRIEF SHE CAUSES ME DAY IN AND DAY OUT! Trying to get me to send Victoria to school, when we both know that it'd cost us a fortune. Dumb bitch needed to be taught some sense, just like you do.

Tiffany: Well mister, I'm vulnerable. Give me your best shot. C'mon, I dare ya.

He cracked his knuckles loud. REALLY fucking loud. His anger was becoming almost cartoonish at this point.

Tiffany: OH I'm sorry, did I say I dare ya? I meant to say I DOUBLE dare ya!

It was odd, me wanting him to hit me. I guess it was just the WCF hardening me up, but I felt whatever shit he sent my way I could handle no problem. Plus now Victoria had solid proof that her father was a violent man. A little bit off pain was worth it, I felt.

Tiffany: I'M WIDE OPEN OLD MAN! GIVE ME YOUR BEST SHOT!

Finally, he began to charge at me like a fucking rhino, about to take a wild punch, and as I braced for it...

BAM!!!

Out of nowhere Victoria just charged right into her father, and before he could even lay a finger on me, hit him with a sloppy, yet effective punch right to the face, knocking him off balance and sending him tumbling to the ground, unconscious. I look at Victoria, both of us pretty shocked.

Victoria: Holy shit...did I just do that?

Tiffany: DAMN GIRL! That was straight fuckin SAVAGE.

Victoria: Oh trust me, he had it coming for a long...long time.

Tiffany: I bet. We should probably bounce outta here. I don't wanna be around when he wakes up and wants his revenge.

Victoria: Agreed. I can get us out of here really quick. Let's leave now.

Tiffany: Actually Victoria, I uh...I kinda wanna ask you something.

Victoria cocked her head slightly, confused.

Victoria: Ask me what?

Tiffany: This is...proooooobably the drunk Tiffany talking right now, but fuck it, I ain't got nothing to lose. I just wanna ask you, would you at all be interested in being my, uh...official traveling companion? If you don't want to that's fine, but uh, I figured I'd ask just in case.

Heh. I didn't know what kind of response this would get, if I'm being completely honest. It was most likely (in my mind at least) that she'd say no, but her beaming expression after I asked said otherwise.

Victoria: It'd be a fuckin honor, Tiff.

And for the first time since I heard the news about Pixie...I smiled.

Tiffany: Pack your bags Tori, I'm getting you as far away from here as I can!

---

And that's how we ended up traveling together. Victoria is probably the reason I haven't gone insane since the Pixie betrayal, if I'm being completely honest. Had I stayed by myself I'd be consumed in an endless pit of self-loathing and regret. Having Tori by my side though, and I have someone to distract me from all that pain. Plus it had become the norm for me to just sleep a different woman every night from different cities, so to actually have someone constantly there to hold onto at night while I slept, well...it was much better then I thought it'd be. We weren't even having sex, just...cuddling. It was def something I could get used to.

A few days after Timebomb, I had the nightmare. I would never admit it straight to Tori's face, but that's what it was. I startled me in the moment, but it wasn't going to faze me anytime soon. What I was about to do here in Charlotte would make sure of that.

We had been driving for a fucking while at this point, and I could tell Tori was getting anxious to get whatever I had planned over with.

Victoria: I hope this doesn't take long, we gotta be in Colorado for Sunday.

Tiffany: We'll make it. Trust me, I've done this type of thing before.

After a bit of aimless driving around the city, I finally found it. The Charlotte Mecklenberg Police Department Headquarters. I killed the engine and parked outside the building.

Tiffany: Come with me inside, it'll only take a minute.

Victoria: It better.

The both of us hopped out of the car and made our way inside. Just as you'd expect from a police HQ, the place was buzzing with cops, all going about their daily business. It made for a rather frantic atmosphere. Tori and I made our way to the front desk, where a males receptionist noticed us from behind his computer.

Receptionist: Hello ladies, what can I do for you?

Tiffany: Hi, I'm Tiffany, the one who called in with the Jenkins tip?

Receptionist: Ah yes, Tiffany. The Lieutenant has been waiting for you. Go down the hall to your left an you'll find the Lieutenant's office.

Tiffany: Gracias.

I nodded at the receptionist and made my way with Tori to the office.

Victoria: What was with the Spanish?

Tiffany: No reason, sometimes I just like to say "Gracias." Makes me feel more cultural, y'know?

We came to the aforementioned door. On a little bronze plate read "Lt. Williams." I knocked three times, and was soon greeted by a woman dressed in blue. Her physique was impressive, she must've been some sort of bodybuilder or something. Quite frankly, to a person my size, she was intimidating.

Lt. Williams: Ah, Ms. White. Come in, we've got some business to take care of.

---

This clinic, the same clinic where "it" happened, was deathly quiet. I was the only one there, sitting in a chair that reminded me of the chair at a dentist's office. Except instead of pulling teeth this chair was made for pulling fetuses. Fun. I had had to disguise my way to get in, putting on a black wig and thick sunglasses to hide if anyone recognized me. Now that I was done with all that, I could easily take it off. The wig was beginning to make me sweat a bit.

The nurse had told me Dr. Jenkins would be with me shortly, and of course by that she meant he'd take forever. The sn of a bitch. So with plenty of free time on my hands now, I did the best thing to pass the time. I pulled out my phone and began to record a video.

Tiffany: Lucious Starr. You're the WCF's unluckiest wrestler this week. Any other week I'd have considered taking it easy on you and dumbed my ability down to match yours. But you've got the unfortunate task of facing me after the biggest shitshow PPV in WCF history. And lemme tell ya', I'm fucking PISSED about it, and where's all that pent up anger gonna go? You.

That's all you're good for in WCF right now, isn't it? Just a glorified punching bag. Calling yourself "Hade's Avenger." Hades is god of the fuckin underworld, why the fuck does he need avenging. And even if he did, it was from you Lucious I'd be damn ashamed. Just when was the last time you did anything worth a damn, anyway? You've been in this company since December, a whole month or two longer then I have, and you've done nary a damn thing to get noticed. I've been busting my chops, putting up fights week in and week out, and people noticed. Most newbies like me only get to be in the Trilogy Cup Wildcard Battle Royal, or their not even in the damn thing at all, wallowing in the lower card. Not only did I bypass the Battle Royal, not only did I go straight to the tourny itself, but my match was the highest cup match on the fucking card. You know why? Because it had a story to it. It was THE match people wanted to see. But I didn't just stop there. I wanted to give them EVEN MORE reason to watch it. I made that son of a bitch a cage match because I don't give a fuck. The fan all knew the outcome already: Chance was gonna fuckin die in that cage.

And what happened in the end? I got screwed over. Not once, but twice in one night. Ain't it funny the way life works sometimes? I go out and I get ready to destroy Chance, and on the entrance ramp, I get jumped by Jared "FUCKBOY ALPHA" Holmes, and then to make matters worse, as I'm about fuckin take it, Pixie, the woman who I had worked so hard to protect these past few months, betrays me, and costs me everything I had worked so hard for.

And just what the fuck were you doing on this night, Lucious. Fucking squandering a TV Title shot in the third real match of the night. Out of fourteen.

Bravo. Fuckin...bravo.

But that's only been the latest in a long series of losses for you, hasn't it Lucy? When the last time you won a match? I tell you when. January 10th. The same night I debuted and put the WCF on fuckin' notice you were in random tag matches to keep up your visibility. And it's just been all downhill from there, hasn't it?

Lucy, I want to go back to a historic night in WCF history. January 31st. Fifteen. Biggest WCF card in history. I was facing Chance von Crank in a grudge match. I hit him with the Bad Beat, a move you don't just fucking walk away from, you fall victim to that shit and you're down for the count. I pin him. One. Two. BAM! The cops show up, take Chance away and rob me of my victory. I was fucking pissed. And what were you doing that night? I can't quite remember...OH. THAT'S RIGHT. YOU WERE TAPPING TO DAG RIDDICK. DAG "ADAM COOPER" RIDDICK MADE YOU GIVE UP ON THE BIGGEST STAGE IN WCF HISTORY.

You see Lucy, I give a damn about making myself look strong out there, I give my all every fuckin night. The only time I've been pinned is when I went against Benjamin Atreyu, a guy who (bless his soul) will never be more then just the guy who chokes at the finals of Trilogy, just like he will this year. Whereas you have actually straight up quit a match cause it was too tough to a man whose biggest claim to fame is racism. Such lack of drive in the ring, I'mma be honest Lucy, it makes me want to hurt you even more, to teach you a lesson.

It's not just me whose getting tired of your shit though Lucy. Everyone in WCF is. FUCK, even Freddy Whoa, the chillest guy in all of sports entertainment is telling you TO YOUR FACE how bad you're doing. But you know the funniest thing about all this, Lucy. I went and looked up your promo stuff for when you first entered the company, and I scrounged up this article titled "WCF Signs Living Legend." It was about you, dear Lucious, and it stated that you were, and I quote "A multiple time World Champion." God, that statement is just so fucking laughable it hurts. But you know what really gets my goat?

"Time will tell if he lives up to his historic hype."

Time has spoken, Lucious. And you haven't lived up to the hype.

I could start feeling footstep outside the door to the room, and so I hastily shut my phone off and stuffed it in my pocket. The door opened, and in walked in a man who could seriously pull off the mad scientist look for Halloween. The man who stole Pixie Paradoxx's child from her and broke her spirits.

Doctor Fuckin Jenkins.

Jenkins: Ms. Adamle?

Tiffany: Afraid not, fucker. You already know my name.

Jenkins: Ma'am, if you're not here for an appointment I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave.

Tiffany: I'm afraid that's not gonna happen anytime soon, Doc. You fucked up my friend really bad, and I'm here to make you pay for it.

He studied me closely, still clueless as to who I was. Then he began to put two and two together.

Jenkins: Hold on a minute...you're that Tiffany girl Chance kept talking about.

Tiffany: The one and fucking only.

Panic began to set in on Jenkin's face.

Jenkins: Listen...I only did it for the money...Chance paid top dollar to have that baby gone...it wasn't done out of malice on my part.

I slowly began to get up from the chair, approaching Jenkins equally as slowly. He started backing away from me the closer I got to him.

Tiffany: Are you really trying to apologize now Jenkins? Really? Has it really come to this? Apologies? You think a simple "Sorry, it'll never happen again" will ever redeem you? That wasn't any ordinary job, Jenkins. If she had wanted to have it aborted from the start, that's one thing. But you fucking heard her say how she didn't want to lose that child. You ignored her. You ignored her and did the job anyway. How can you fucking sleep at night, knowing you've ruined a woman's life forever?

Jenkins: I ONLY DID IT FOR THE MONEY, I SWEAR. I don't make much doing these jobs Ms. Tiffany, I gotta get every bit of income I can-

I wouldn't even let him finish the sentence before I landed a hard right hook to his face. It sent him flying back a few feet, landing hard on his ass.

Tiffany: Were you seriously going to pull the "poor" card on me, Jenkins? C'mon now. The time has passed for all that. I can't bring back that baby, but I damn sure can avenge it.

Jenkins: No...no, please...

Tiffany: It's time Doc.

Jenkins: NO.

Tiffany: Time to pay...for EVERYTHING YOU'VE DONE.

Jenkins: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-OOOOOOOO-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

---

A few minutes later I opened the door and left the room. Outside was Lt. Williams, waiting for the word.I took one last brief glimpse at the bloodied pul that was Jenkins. I shook my head and gave her the go ahead.

Tiffany: He's all yours. Take him away.

Lt. Williams: Gladly.

As soon as I was out of the way she barged into the room, badge in hand.

Lt. Williams: Dr. Jenkins, you're under arrest!

Victoria was sitting in the waiting room, reading a random magazine off the coffee table.

Tiffany: It's done Tori. We can go now.

She heard me, put the magazine away and got up from her chair.

Victoria: Ready when you are.

As we began to make our way out of the waiting room, a swarm of cops came in to take Jenkins into custody. Our car was almost lost in the shuffle, but we managed to find it and get in.

Victoria: I'm still surprised the cops let you beat up on him. How the fuck did you manage to let them do that?

Tiffany: Emotional appeal. Lt. Williams appears to be a mother herself, she understood what needed to be done for my sake.

Victoria: So what now? What's the gameplan for Slam now that this is taken care of.

I looked at Victoria and smirked.

Tiffany: Revenge, old girl. Plain and simple revenge.

That night at thee hotel I slept like a fuckin baby.