Post by Brooklyn on May 26, 2023 13:28:08 GMT
The doctors and specialists had all been a bust. After being poked and prodded for the better part of a year she was right back where she started. No treatments or medication seemed to alleviate her suffering, most didn’t even touch it, and her condition continued to worsen. She did her best to hide it from Rowan at first, not wanting to worry her for what she had hoped was no reason. But she had one more idea, born of equal parts frustration and desperation. When conventional medicine seemed to hold no answers, she began to search for more … unconventional methods to find a cure.
One day, while delving into the depths of the internet, she stumbled upon a peculiar website. It claimed to offer a solution unlike any other—not through medicine, but through possession. Intrigued by the prospect of an otherworldly intervention, her desperation led her to consider this radical idea.
She kicked herself for not thinking of this before and quickly became convinced that a supernatural entity might hold the key to her salvation. She researched the specific ritual and prepared herself mentally and physically, gathering the necessary ingredients, setting up the space, and practicing the ancient incantations she had found online.
As the moment arrived, she busied herself with thinking less about the potential fallout of this action, and only about the positives.
The day seemed to approach steadily, slowly. She chose a day when she knew Rowan would be gone and quickly went to work as soon as their front door swung shut.
As the room grew heavy with an eerie atmosphere, Brooklyn felt a presence enveloping her. An ethereal being emerged from the shadows, its form twisting and contorting, revealing its demonic nature. The demon's eyes glowed with a malevolent light as it regarded Brooklyn.
Without hesitation, Brooklyn beseeched the demon to enter her body and cure her ailment. The demon hesitated, sensing something amiss. It probed Brooklyn's soul, searching for the cause of her suffering. But as it delved deeper, the demon recoiled in pain, a shriek of anguish echoing through the room.
Brooklyn, bewildered and in agony, watched as the demon writhed, desperately trying to escape the connection it had forged with her. The pain inflicted upon the demon by Brooklyn's own affliction was unbearable, far beyond what it had expected. In a desperate act of self-preservation, the demon severed its bond with Brooklyn, leaving her to collapse on the floor, gasping for breath.
The room fell silent, the malevolent presence dissipating into thin air. Brooklyn found herself alone, no closer to finding a cure than she had been before. She realized in that moment, that she had sought a dangerous solution to her troubles without fully comprehending the consequences.
Feeling defeated and exhausted, Brooklyn picked herself up from the floor and reflected upon her actions. She dragged herself to the couch and felt the sting of tears on her cheeks as she wondered just what it was going to take to beat this thing and if it was even worth it anymore.
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The dimly lit Performance Centre echoed with the sound of metal clanking as Brooklyn Maddrox meticulously loaded the weights onto the bar. Beads of sweat trickled down her forehead as she mentally prepared for the upcoming battle that lay ahead. It was the week leading up to the highly anticipated clash for the IWF Women's World title at Night of the Immortals, wherein Brooklyn would face off against the reigning champion, Jennie Fenix, and the formidable Sorcha Wynn. This was her chance at redemption, an opportunity to reclaim her throne as the queen of the wrestling world.
With a steely determination in her eyes, Brooklyn continued her intense workout regimen, pushing her body to its limits. As she went through each grueling exercise, her mind wandered back to her previous encounter with Fenix. It was a match for the ages, one that had left her battered and bruised, but more importantly, one that had ignited a fire within her.
"Alright, Brooklyn," she says under her breath, her voice filled with both respect and conviction. "it's time to address the elephant in the room. Ms. Jennie Fenix, the multi-title champion, the big bad of IWF, and the self-proclaimed queen of the mountain sitting pretty. But let's be honest here, Jennie, you spend more time on social media promoting yourself and your role in other companies than you do focusing on what truly matters—this one … this one right here.
Imperial.
I broke my back, figuratively, of course, helping build this division. But here’s the thing … never once would I say that it was on my shoulders, or by my hands alone that IWF was known as the preeminent place for women’s wrestling.
Because it wasn’t.
Sometimes it feels like you’re just reading the cliff notes version of IWF history the way you talk about the past champions. Feels an awful lot like Eternity and Rowan live rent-free in your head, girl; because you just can’t seem to keep their names out of your mouth.
They’re two of the greatest women to ever step inside our ring, but what made them great wasn’t that they constantly talked about who came before them - about the women that THEY had to beat on their way up the mountain.
Their greatness should detract from your own - something that I learned along the way myself.
I mean, this level of self-doubt from you is surprising considering you have an impressive collection of championships yourself, but I’ll be damned if it doesn’t seem like sometimes you’re more about the spotlight than about the sport. Don’t get me wrong, there’s certainly room for promoting yourself and your brand, but you act like just another attention-seeking, narcissistic teenager rather than the pinnacle of our Women's Division.
It's clear that you’re more concerned with what IWF can do for YOU than what you can do for it; a champion focused on elevating the art of professional wrestling.
But here's the thing: IWF is our home, yours and mine alike. It’s our battleground and our sanctuary, and it deserves a champion who is dedicated to this company, to the fans who support us, and to the craft itself. It deserves someone who builds up the women around her rather than tearing them down.
Without competition, there can’t be any progress, and like Andrew Whitworth said, ‘If you’re a true warrior, competition doesn’t scare you. It makes you better.’ and that’s what I’ve been doing.
While you've been busy basking in the glow coming from your selfie-stick, I've been putting in the work. I've studied your matches, I’ve analyzed your moves, hell, I’ve taken the time to dissect your strengths and weaknesses. I know your predictable patterns, Jennie, and your reliance on the same tired old tricks.
And, guess what? The scouting report says you’ve been getting complacent.
That means that this time, I'm there’s going to be a counter where you least expect it. This match is going to be much less about brute force, and way more about precision and finesse.
You see, Jennie, I understand the importance of adaptability and evolution. I've watched you cling to your comfort zone, unwilling to explore new territories. But since stepping back into this ring I've been pushing myself, diversifying my skills, and expanding my repertoire. I'm bringing a level of versatility to this match that you simply won't be prepared for; and we both know that if you try to focus on just me, Sorcha will make you pay … and when you turn your attention to her, I’ll be right there waiting.
The numbers game will not be playing in your favor, and your big sis is going to be too busy licking her third-degree burns to try and help.
So, love, prepare for your Night of the Immortals experience to be a humbling one. Prepare to face a woman who is not only hungry for victory but dedicated to seeing that only the absolute BEST for this division, for this COMPANY, is put forward. This match will be a turning point, where when the spotlight shines on the champion—it will be the one who embodies the essence of IWF, both in and out of the ring.
Rest assured, when the dust settles, when the final bell tolls, it’s going to be me, Jennie. It’ll be me left standing. The woman who silenced your self-centered proclamations and doused the Fenix once and for all.
I can’t wait to prove that true greatness comes from dedication, passion, and unwavering commitment to the art of professional wrestling, and not from bikini photo shoots.
‘Cause if there’s one thing to remember here, it’s that a champion doesn’t need filters to shine.”
The failed exorcism incident had left Brooklyn grappling with a plethora of unanswered questions. As she lay in bed, her mind buzzed with thoughts, trying to make sense of what had transpired. Why hadn't the demonic possession worked? What had gone wrong? And most importantly, what would she do now?
Brooklyn's gaze drifted to the small journal resting on her nightstand. It was filled with notes, research, and theories she had compiled during her journey, her attempt to understand the supernatural and find a cure. She reached for it, flipping through its pages, hoping to find a clue, a hidden answer that had eluded her.
The more she read, the more she realized the magnitude of her ignorance. She had sought the power of the demon without fully understanding the consequences. She had been desperate, seeking a quick fix without considering the risks and the toll it could take on her own being.
Brooklyn pondered whether she could, or rather should, call upon the Morrigan once again, despite Rowan's stern warning. She yearned for a second chance, a redemption of sorts, but deep down, she knew that such a choice carried immense danger. The thought of being burned out like a husk terrified her, and she couldn't bear the thought of losing herself completely.
Rowan, her mentor, her confidant, the most important person in her life, had cautioned her about the risks involved. Her guidance had proven invaluable thus far, and she trusted her wholeheartedly. Yet, the allure of a potential solution still tugged at her, clouding her judgment.
Feeling torn, Brooklyn resolved to broach the subject with Rowan once again. She needed her wisdom, her steady guidance, and her unbiased perspective. Rowan was back in Pennsylvania to gather something from Centralia, so with a sense of determination, Brooklyn reached for her phone and dialed Rowan’s number, her fingers trembling slightly.
The line connected, and after a few rings, Rowan's voice greeted her on the other end. "Brooklyn, is everything all right?" she asked, her tone filled with concern.
"No," she replied, her voice laced with uncertainty. "I just … I don't understand what went wrong. Why didn't it work? And what the hell am I supposed to do now?"
There was a brief pause on the line before Rowan responded. "I warned you about the dangers surrounding that ritual, that it wasn’t to be taken lightly. There was never a guarantee that it would yield the desired outcome, and as I said, the risks far outweighed the potential benefits."
Brooklyn sighed, her fingers tightening around the phone. She knew Rowan was right, but the desperation inside her was difficult to quell. "I just can't shake this feeling that there's something I'm missing, something I haven't tried yet."
"Sometimes the most profound lessons come from accepting our limitations," Rowan gently replied. "You've already endured so much, and perhaps it's time to redirect your focus. There are still other avenues to explore, therapies to try, and specialists who may hold the key to your healing."
Brooklyn nodded, though Rowan couldn't see her. Her words resonated within her, reminding her that she had neglected the more practical paths in her quest for a quick solution. She realized that she needed to place her faith in science and the expertise of professionals who had dedicated their lives to understanding the human body and mind.
"Thanks," Brooklyn finally said, her voice filled with a mix of gratitude and determination. "I needed to hear that. Demon cleansing was a no-go, but I still think that the Morrigan …
“NO!” Rowan’s voice uncharacteristically rose on the other end of the line. “We talked about this. That is a power you were not able to contain once already; you nearly burned yourself up from the inside out. That is not something I wish to see happen again.”
Brooklyn sighed, “Like a reverse Hot Pocket … got it. Okay, you win, I'll focus on something else then."
Rowan's voice softened with approval. "That's the spirit. Remember, you possess an inner strength that no supernatural force can replicate. It’s what makes you special. Trust in yourself, and never lose sight of the hope that lies within."
With those words echoing in her mind, Brooklyn gave Rowan her love and hung up the phone, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. She knew the road ahead would be challenging, but she was determined to navigate it with caution, perseverance, and the support of the medical community.
Brooklyn closed her journal, setting it aside. As she drifted off to sleep, she made a silent promise to herself—a promise to trust in the journey, to embrace the unknown, and to discover healing on her own terms, without succumbing to the allure of dangerous and uncharted paths; but also a promise not to close any doors, even if that meant going against Rowan. She’d forgive her in the end, though ….
right?
The days leading up to the match continued to be filled with arduous training sessions and intense preparation. However, it was during the quieter moments, when the Performance Centre was empty, that Brooklyn found herself pushing the envelope further than she probably should. But with each rep, each mile, her thoughts kept going back into the world of Sorcha Wynn. She’d never faced Sorcha in the ring, but even without personal experience, Brooklyn’s respect for her opponent was high. She’d witnessed Sorcha's rise through the ranks, her natural ability to captivate the audience, and her unmatched technical prowess.
"Sorcha," Brooklyn spoke to herself with a tone of admiration and anticipation. "You certainly are a force to be reckoned with. Your in-ring presence, and the way you connect with the audience, it's something to be respected and admired. I've watched your matches, and I've learned some new tricks that’s for sure. We’ve never met in the ring, and I don’t think we’ve even officially met backstage, but I haven’t been this excited about a match in a long time. It isn’t very often in this sport that you see a main event match where two of the competitors have had no prior interaction with each other and certainly don’t hold any ill will against the other. But still, even without all the pomp and circumstance that usually surrounds these kinds of high-profile matches, I know that we don’t need this to be a blood feud… because when we step into that ring, it will be a match for the ages."
Brooklyn understood that beating Jennie Fenix was already a difficult proposition - but defeating Sorcha Wynn in addition to the Women’s World champion would be a monumental task, but she relished the challenge. She knew that she couldn't afford to underestimate her opponent's abilities. Sorcha's agility, combined with her technical finesse, made her an adversary to be feared. However, Brooklyn believed that her own experience and unyielding determination would tip the scales in her favor.
“It’s a pretty special match when you think about it. I can’t think of another instance where a champion has had to face off against two people who both have a claim to their title. You went the distance, taking on anyone and everyone for weeks before capturing the coveted title of Ironmaiden in a brutal Last Woman Standing match
Amazing.
But here I am, waltzing back into the company after an extended absence and winning the Heiress to the Throne tournament.
Nope.
Well, I must have put on a great program against some of your peers before that last Ironmaiden match then, yeah?
No again.
Did I win the Queen’s Gambit briefcase?
No, what I did was find myself in the right place at the right time.
Che won that briefcase and then found herself unable to perform due to injury and I happened to gain the favor of my second favorite Jess in IWF.
So while it wasn’t me who pulled this briefcase down, it’s still me in possession of it - and I couldn’t think of a better time to cash this baby in than at Night of the Immortals.
But I can already hear the questions coming … do I even deserve to be in this match? Why do I have to butt into your match against Jennie? I already had my shot, why should I get another one so soon?”
Brooklyn paused, her mind a battlefield, filled with both doubts and unyielding determination. She knew that this was her chance to etch her name into the annals of wrestling history once again.
“Don’t worry, ‘cause I’ve been asking myself the same questions for weeks now.
Do I even deserve to be in this match? Was I only given this briefcase because of my past accomplishments? Who knows why Jess gave me this briefcase, but the fact is that he’d been sitting on this thing for … what, weeks? This means he’d taken a good, hard look at our locker room and decided that the best chance at unseating the reigning champion didn’t lie in there.
That’s gutting to the other girls in the back, and for that reason I’m sorry.
I’m sorry to each and every one of you who felt like you were overlooked and I can promise you that it’s not going to happen again. I can’t speak for you, Sorcha, but I know that as a champion I never ducked a challenge and I’ll sure as hell work continue to work my tail off to help each and every one of you.”
Brooklyn takes a moment to collect herself. She glances at her reflection in the various mirrors around the room, her eyes blazing with fierce determination. The time for preparation was over; it was time to step into the ring and prove herself once again.
"Jennie, Sorcha," Brooklyn continues. "I respect both of you immensely, but I am going to leave everything in that ring this weekend. I will fight with every ounce of strength I possess, and I will show the world that I am more than just a ‘former’ … I’m also the future. the future of our division, the future of that title, and the future of IWF.
Night of the Immortals, the night where legends are born … and sometimes even reborn."
With those words lingering in the air, Brooklyn chuckles to herself and goes back into training mode. The Night of the Immortals would soon bear witness to a clash of titans, a battle that would leave an indelible mark on the history of women's wrestling. And Brooklyn was determined to rise above the rest and claim her rightful place at the pinnacle of the sport once again.
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Brooklyn and April, a motley pair of sisters who, up until a year ago, shared nothing in common. Estranged and barely even acquaintances though working in the same company, it took a global pandemic for the two to sit down and figure things out. Now today, the two share a close bond, which just so happens to see them embarking on a delightful shopping date in the heart of the, always bustling, city of Las Vegas, Nevada.
As they strolled through the streets, their laughter filled the air, and their excitement palpable. The warm sunshine illuminated the vibrant displays of shops and boutiques, inviting the sisters to explore their treasures.
They hopped from store to store, trying on fashionable outfits, sharing their thoughts and opinions, many, many opinions, and indulging in the joy of sisterly camaraderie.
Brooklyn, who previously had kept things close to the vest, was finally stepping out into her own. She’d begun opening up and allowing her vivacious personality to be seen by more than just her inner circle. But it was more than just her personality that people were taking notice of - it was the enthusiasm with which she carefully selected pieces that reflected her unique style.
As the pair meandered through the maze of shops, Brooklyn suddenly felt an overwhelming wave of fatigue sweep over her. It was like suddenly hitting a brick wall only to then be struck by a bolt of lightning. The sudden fatigue caused her steps to slow and her energy to dissipate. April, noticing the sudden change in her sister's demeanor, grew concerned. April quickly dropped her bags and reached out to catch her sister.
"Hey, are you okay?" April asked, her voice laced with worry. "What the heck is this all about? Is something wrong?"
Brooklyn caught herself on the exterior wall of a nearby store. She shook her sister off and mustered a weak smile, attempting to dismiss her sister's concerns. "No, no," she replied, her voice sounding faint. "I'm fine … just a little low on energy. Probably just low blood sugar. It happens sometimes."
April's eyes narrowed with skepticism. She knew her sister well enough to understand that Brooklyn's strength and vitality were her defining traits, and any sign of weakness was out of character. Still worried, April pressed on, her voice gentle but persistent.
"But what about the upcoming title match?" April asked, her concern growing. "Should you consider dropping out if you're not feeling well? Your health is more important than some stupid match, B."
Suddenly, Brooklyn's eyes flickered with a peculiar shade of yellow and gold. In an instant, her strength surged back, as if an unseen force had revitalized her. She stood tall, her determination unwavering, and addressed her sister with conviction.
"No," Brooklyn asserted firmly, her voice brimming with self-assurance. "I'm perfectly fine. This was nothing, just a momentary blip. I assure you, I am more than capable of wrestling this weekend. Don't worry about me."
Though perplexed by the sudden change, April couldn't deny the fierce determination in Brooklyn's gaze. She respected her sister's resilience and knew that beneath Brooklyn's confident exterior, a fire burned within her. Reluctantly, April chose to trust her sister's judgment.
"Alright," April relented, her worry replaced by a sense of admiration. "If you say so. But promise me that if anything changes, if you feel even the slightest bit off, you'll let me know. We're a team, remember?"
Brooklyn nodded, her eyes shimmering with gratitude. "Fiiiiiiine, mooooother - we're a team, and I'll always keep you informed. Now, how about we just forget about this and go grab some lunch? I'm craving a big, greasy burger right about now!"
The sisters laughed and shared a knowing smile, and their unbreakable bond was reaffirmed. They continued their shopping excursion, putting aside the momentary scare, and embraced the joy of the present. Together, they savored the simple pleasure of sisterhood, grateful for each other's unwavering support and love.
One day, while delving into the depths of the internet, she stumbled upon a peculiar website. It claimed to offer a solution unlike any other—not through medicine, but through possession. Intrigued by the prospect of an otherworldly intervention, her desperation led her to consider this radical idea.
She kicked herself for not thinking of this before and quickly became convinced that a supernatural entity might hold the key to her salvation. She researched the specific ritual and prepared herself mentally and physically, gathering the necessary ingredients, setting up the space, and practicing the ancient incantations she had found online.
As the moment arrived, she busied herself with thinking less about the potential fallout of this action, and only about the positives.
The day seemed to approach steadily, slowly. She chose a day when she knew Rowan would be gone and quickly went to work as soon as their front door swung shut.
As the room grew heavy with an eerie atmosphere, Brooklyn felt a presence enveloping her. An ethereal being emerged from the shadows, its form twisting and contorting, revealing its demonic nature. The demon's eyes glowed with a malevolent light as it regarded Brooklyn.
Without hesitation, Brooklyn beseeched the demon to enter her body and cure her ailment. The demon hesitated, sensing something amiss. It probed Brooklyn's soul, searching for the cause of her suffering. But as it delved deeper, the demon recoiled in pain, a shriek of anguish echoing through the room.
Brooklyn, bewildered and in agony, watched as the demon writhed, desperately trying to escape the connection it had forged with her. The pain inflicted upon the demon by Brooklyn's own affliction was unbearable, far beyond what it had expected. In a desperate act of self-preservation, the demon severed its bond with Brooklyn, leaving her to collapse on the floor, gasping for breath.
The room fell silent, the malevolent presence dissipating into thin air. Brooklyn found herself alone, no closer to finding a cure than she had been before. She realized in that moment, that she had sought a dangerous solution to her troubles without fully comprehending the consequences.
Feeling defeated and exhausted, Brooklyn picked herself up from the floor and reflected upon her actions. She dragged herself to the couch and felt the sting of tears on her cheeks as she wondered just what it was going to take to beat this thing and if it was even worth it anymore.
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The dimly lit Performance Centre echoed with the sound of metal clanking as Brooklyn Maddrox meticulously loaded the weights onto the bar. Beads of sweat trickled down her forehead as she mentally prepared for the upcoming battle that lay ahead. It was the week leading up to the highly anticipated clash for the IWF Women's World title at Night of the Immortals, wherein Brooklyn would face off against the reigning champion, Jennie Fenix, and the formidable Sorcha Wynn. This was her chance at redemption, an opportunity to reclaim her throne as the queen of the wrestling world.
With a steely determination in her eyes, Brooklyn continued her intense workout regimen, pushing her body to its limits. As she went through each grueling exercise, her mind wandered back to her previous encounter with Fenix. It was a match for the ages, one that had left her battered and bruised, but more importantly, one that had ignited a fire within her.
"Alright, Brooklyn," she says under her breath, her voice filled with both respect and conviction. "it's time to address the elephant in the room. Ms. Jennie Fenix, the multi-title champion, the big bad of IWF, and the self-proclaimed queen of the mountain sitting pretty. But let's be honest here, Jennie, you spend more time on social media promoting yourself and your role in other companies than you do focusing on what truly matters—this one … this one right here.
Imperial.
I broke my back, figuratively, of course, helping build this division. But here’s the thing … never once would I say that it was on my shoulders, or by my hands alone that IWF was known as the preeminent place for women’s wrestling.
Because it wasn’t.
Sometimes it feels like you’re just reading the cliff notes version of IWF history the way you talk about the past champions. Feels an awful lot like Eternity and Rowan live rent-free in your head, girl; because you just can’t seem to keep their names out of your mouth.
They’re two of the greatest women to ever step inside our ring, but what made them great wasn’t that they constantly talked about who came before them - about the women that THEY had to beat on their way up the mountain.
Their greatness should detract from your own - something that I learned along the way myself.
I mean, this level of self-doubt from you is surprising considering you have an impressive collection of championships yourself, but I’ll be damned if it doesn’t seem like sometimes you’re more about the spotlight than about the sport. Don’t get me wrong, there’s certainly room for promoting yourself and your brand, but you act like just another attention-seeking, narcissistic teenager rather than the pinnacle of our Women's Division.
It's clear that you’re more concerned with what IWF can do for YOU than what you can do for it; a champion focused on elevating the art of professional wrestling.
But here's the thing: IWF is our home, yours and mine alike. It’s our battleground and our sanctuary, and it deserves a champion who is dedicated to this company, to the fans who support us, and to the craft itself. It deserves someone who builds up the women around her rather than tearing them down.
Without competition, there can’t be any progress, and like Andrew Whitworth said, ‘If you’re a true warrior, competition doesn’t scare you. It makes you better.’ and that’s what I’ve been doing.
While you've been busy basking in the glow coming from your selfie-stick, I've been putting in the work. I've studied your matches, I’ve analyzed your moves, hell, I’ve taken the time to dissect your strengths and weaknesses. I know your predictable patterns, Jennie, and your reliance on the same tired old tricks.
And, guess what? The scouting report says you’ve been getting complacent.
That means that this time, I'm there’s going to be a counter where you least expect it. This match is going to be much less about brute force, and way more about precision and finesse.
You see, Jennie, I understand the importance of adaptability and evolution. I've watched you cling to your comfort zone, unwilling to explore new territories. But since stepping back into this ring I've been pushing myself, diversifying my skills, and expanding my repertoire. I'm bringing a level of versatility to this match that you simply won't be prepared for; and we both know that if you try to focus on just me, Sorcha will make you pay … and when you turn your attention to her, I’ll be right there waiting.
The numbers game will not be playing in your favor, and your big sis is going to be too busy licking her third-degree burns to try and help.
So, love, prepare for your Night of the Immortals experience to be a humbling one. Prepare to face a woman who is not only hungry for victory but dedicated to seeing that only the absolute BEST for this division, for this COMPANY, is put forward. This match will be a turning point, where when the spotlight shines on the champion—it will be the one who embodies the essence of IWF, both in and out of the ring.
Rest assured, when the dust settles, when the final bell tolls, it’s going to be me, Jennie. It’ll be me left standing. The woman who silenced your self-centered proclamations and doused the Fenix once and for all.
I can’t wait to prove that true greatness comes from dedication, passion, and unwavering commitment to the art of professional wrestling, and not from bikini photo shoots.
‘Cause if there’s one thing to remember here, it’s that a champion doesn’t need filters to shine.”
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The failed exorcism incident had left Brooklyn grappling with a plethora of unanswered questions. As she lay in bed, her mind buzzed with thoughts, trying to make sense of what had transpired. Why hadn't the demonic possession worked? What had gone wrong? And most importantly, what would she do now?
Brooklyn's gaze drifted to the small journal resting on her nightstand. It was filled with notes, research, and theories she had compiled during her journey, her attempt to understand the supernatural and find a cure. She reached for it, flipping through its pages, hoping to find a clue, a hidden answer that had eluded her.
The more she read, the more she realized the magnitude of her ignorance. She had sought the power of the demon without fully understanding the consequences. She had been desperate, seeking a quick fix without considering the risks and the toll it could take on her own being.
Brooklyn pondered whether she could, or rather should, call upon the Morrigan once again, despite Rowan's stern warning. She yearned for a second chance, a redemption of sorts, but deep down, she knew that such a choice carried immense danger. The thought of being burned out like a husk terrified her, and she couldn't bear the thought of losing herself completely.
Rowan, her mentor, her confidant, the most important person in her life, had cautioned her about the risks involved. Her guidance had proven invaluable thus far, and she trusted her wholeheartedly. Yet, the allure of a potential solution still tugged at her, clouding her judgment.
Feeling torn, Brooklyn resolved to broach the subject with Rowan once again. She needed her wisdom, her steady guidance, and her unbiased perspective. Rowan was back in Pennsylvania to gather something from Centralia, so with a sense of determination, Brooklyn reached for her phone and dialed Rowan’s number, her fingers trembling slightly.
The line connected, and after a few rings, Rowan's voice greeted her on the other end. "Brooklyn, is everything all right?" she asked, her tone filled with concern.
"No," she replied, her voice laced with uncertainty. "I just … I don't understand what went wrong. Why didn't it work? And what the hell am I supposed to do now?"
There was a brief pause on the line before Rowan responded. "I warned you about the dangers surrounding that ritual, that it wasn’t to be taken lightly. There was never a guarantee that it would yield the desired outcome, and as I said, the risks far outweighed the potential benefits."
Brooklyn sighed, her fingers tightening around the phone. She knew Rowan was right, but the desperation inside her was difficult to quell. "I just can't shake this feeling that there's something I'm missing, something I haven't tried yet."
"Sometimes the most profound lessons come from accepting our limitations," Rowan gently replied. "You've already endured so much, and perhaps it's time to redirect your focus. There are still other avenues to explore, therapies to try, and specialists who may hold the key to your healing."
Brooklyn nodded, though Rowan couldn't see her. Her words resonated within her, reminding her that she had neglected the more practical paths in her quest for a quick solution. She realized that she needed to place her faith in science and the expertise of professionals who had dedicated their lives to understanding the human body and mind.
"Thanks," Brooklyn finally said, her voice filled with a mix of gratitude and determination. "I needed to hear that. Demon cleansing was a no-go, but I still think that the Morrigan …
“NO!” Rowan’s voice uncharacteristically rose on the other end of the line. “We talked about this. That is a power you were not able to contain once already; you nearly burned yourself up from the inside out. That is not something I wish to see happen again.”
Brooklyn sighed, “Like a reverse Hot Pocket … got it. Okay, you win, I'll focus on something else then."
Rowan's voice softened with approval. "That's the spirit. Remember, you possess an inner strength that no supernatural force can replicate. It’s what makes you special. Trust in yourself, and never lose sight of the hope that lies within."
With those words echoing in her mind, Brooklyn gave Rowan her love and hung up the phone, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. She knew the road ahead would be challenging, but she was determined to navigate it with caution, perseverance, and the support of the medical community.
Brooklyn closed her journal, setting it aside. As she drifted off to sleep, she made a silent promise to herself—a promise to trust in the journey, to embrace the unknown, and to discover healing on her own terms, without succumbing to the allure of dangerous and uncharted paths; but also a promise not to close any doors, even if that meant going against Rowan. She’d forgive her in the end, though ….
right?
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The days leading up to the match continued to be filled with arduous training sessions and intense preparation. However, it was during the quieter moments, when the Performance Centre was empty, that Brooklyn found herself pushing the envelope further than she probably should. But with each rep, each mile, her thoughts kept going back into the world of Sorcha Wynn. She’d never faced Sorcha in the ring, but even without personal experience, Brooklyn’s respect for her opponent was high. She’d witnessed Sorcha's rise through the ranks, her natural ability to captivate the audience, and her unmatched technical prowess.
"Sorcha," Brooklyn spoke to herself with a tone of admiration and anticipation. "You certainly are a force to be reckoned with. Your in-ring presence, and the way you connect with the audience, it's something to be respected and admired. I've watched your matches, and I've learned some new tricks that’s for sure. We’ve never met in the ring, and I don’t think we’ve even officially met backstage, but I haven’t been this excited about a match in a long time. It isn’t very often in this sport that you see a main event match where two of the competitors have had no prior interaction with each other and certainly don’t hold any ill will against the other. But still, even without all the pomp and circumstance that usually surrounds these kinds of high-profile matches, I know that we don’t need this to be a blood feud… because when we step into that ring, it will be a match for the ages."
Brooklyn understood that beating Jennie Fenix was already a difficult proposition - but defeating Sorcha Wynn in addition to the Women’s World champion would be a monumental task, but she relished the challenge. She knew that she couldn't afford to underestimate her opponent's abilities. Sorcha's agility, combined with her technical finesse, made her an adversary to be feared. However, Brooklyn believed that her own experience and unyielding determination would tip the scales in her favor.
“It’s a pretty special match when you think about it. I can’t think of another instance where a champion has had to face off against two people who both have a claim to their title. You went the distance, taking on anyone and everyone for weeks before capturing the coveted title of Ironmaiden in a brutal Last Woman Standing match
Amazing.
But here I am, waltzing back into the company after an extended absence and winning the Heiress to the Throne tournament.
Nope.
Well, I must have put on a great program against some of your peers before that last Ironmaiden match then, yeah?
No again.
Did I win the Queen’s Gambit briefcase?
No, what I did was find myself in the right place at the right time.
Che won that briefcase and then found herself unable to perform due to injury and I happened to gain the favor of my second favorite Jess in IWF.
So while it wasn’t me who pulled this briefcase down, it’s still me in possession of it - and I couldn’t think of a better time to cash this baby in than at Night of the Immortals.
But I can already hear the questions coming … do I even deserve to be in this match? Why do I have to butt into your match against Jennie? I already had my shot, why should I get another one so soon?”
Brooklyn paused, her mind a battlefield, filled with both doubts and unyielding determination. She knew that this was her chance to etch her name into the annals of wrestling history once again.
“Don’t worry, ‘cause I’ve been asking myself the same questions for weeks now.
Do I even deserve to be in this match? Was I only given this briefcase because of my past accomplishments? Who knows why Jess gave me this briefcase, but the fact is that he’d been sitting on this thing for … what, weeks? This means he’d taken a good, hard look at our locker room and decided that the best chance at unseating the reigning champion didn’t lie in there.
That’s gutting to the other girls in the back, and for that reason I’m sorry.
I’m sorry to each and every one of you who felt like you were overlooked and I can promise you that it’s not going to happen again. I can’t speak for you, Sorcha, but I know that as a champion I never ducked a challenge and I’ll sure as hell work continue to work my tail off to help each and every one of you.”
Brooklyn takes a moment to collect herself. She glances at her reflection in the various mirrors around the room, her eyes blazing with fierce determination. The time for preparation was over; it was time to step into the ring and prove herself once again.
"Jennie, Sorcha," Brooklyn continues. "I respect both of you immensely, but I am going to leave everything in that ring this weekend. I will fight with every ounce of strength I possess, and I will show the world that I am more than just a ‘former’ … I’m also the future. the future of our division, the future of that title, and the future of IWF.
Night of the Immortals, the night where legends are born … and sometimes even reborn."
With those words lingering in the air, Brooklyn chuckles to herself and goes back into training mode. The Night of the Immortals would soon bear witness to a clash of titans, a battle that would leave an indelible mark on the history of women's wrestling. And Brooklyn was determined to rise above the rest and claim her rightful place at the pinnacle of the sport once again.
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Brooklyn and April, a motley pair of sisters who, up until a year ago, shared nothing in common. Estranged and barely even acquaintances though working in the same company, it took a global pandemic for the two to sit down and figure things out. Now today, the two share a close bond, which just so happens to see them embarking on a delightful shopping date in the heart of the, always bustling, city of Las Vegas, Nevada.
As they strolled through the streets, their laughter filled the air, and their excitement palpable. The warm sunshine illuminated the vibrant displays of shops and boutiques, inviting the sisters to explore their treasures.
They hopped from store to store, trying on fashionable outfits, sharing their thoughts and opinions, many, many opinions, and indulging in the joy of sisterly camaraderie.
Brooklyn, who previously had kept things close to the vest, was finally stepping out into her own. She’d begun opening up and allowing her vivacious personality to be seen by more than just her inner circle. But it was more than just her personality that people were taking notice of - it was the enthusiasm with which she carefully selected pieces that reflected her unique style.
As the pair meandered through the maze of shops, Brooklyn suddenly felt an overwhelming wave of fatigue sweep over her. It was like suddenly hitting a brick wall only to then be struck by a bolt of lightning. The sudden fatigue caused her steps to slow and her energy to dissipate. April, noticing the sudden change in her sister's demeanor, grew concerned. April quickly dropped her bags and reached out to catch her sister.
"Hey, are you okay?" April asked, her voice laced with worry. "What the heck is this all about? Is something wrong?"
Brooklyn caught herself on the exterior wall of a nearby store. She shook her sister off and mustered a weak smile, attempting to dismiss her sister's concerns. "No, no," she replied, her voice sounding faint. "I'm fine … just a little low on energy. Probably just low blood sugar. It happens sometimes."
April's eyes narrowed with skepticism. She knew her sister well enough to understand that Brooklyn's strength and vitality were her defining traits, and any sign of weakness was out of character. Still worried, April pressed on, her voice gentle but persistent.
"But what about the upcoming title match?" April asked, her concern growing. "Should you consider dropping out if you're not feeling well? Your health is more important than some stupid match, B."
Suddenly, Brooklyn's eyes flickered with a peculiar shade of yellow and gold. In an instant, her strength surged back, as if an unseen force had revitalized her. She stood tall, her determination unwavering, and addressed her sister with conviction.
"No," Brooklyn asserted firmly, her voice brimming with self-assurance. "I'm perfectly fine. This was nothing, just a momentary blip. I assure you, I am more than capable of wrestling this weekend. Don't worry about me."
Though perplexed by the sudden change, April couldn't deny the fierce determination in Brooklyn's gaze. She respected her sister's resilience and knew that beneath Brooklyn's confident exterior, a fire burned within her. Reluctantly, April chose to trust her sister's judgment.
"Alright," April relented, her worry replaced by a sense of admiration. "If you say so. But promise me that if anything changes, if you feel even the slightest bit off, you'll let me know. We're a team, remember?"
Brooklyn nodded, her eyes shimmering with gratitude. "Fiiiiiiine, mooooother - we're a team, and I'll always keep you informed. Now, how about we just forget about this and go grab some lunch? I'm craving a big, greasy burger right about now!"
The sisters laughed and shared a knowing smile, and their unbreakable bond was reaffirmed. They continued their shopping excursion, putting aside the momentary scare, and embraced the joy of the present. Together, they savored the simple pleasure of sisterhood, grateful for each other's unwavering support and love.