Million Dollar Baby

[April Madrox]

Brooklyn stood behind April in the bathroom, a mischievous grin playing on her lips as she mixed the hair dye. "So, what color are we going for this time? Neon green? Electric blue? Maybe a nice hot pink to match your personality?"

April rolled her eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Very funny. I was actually thinking of something a little more subtle this time. Maybe a deep burgundy or a rich chocolate brown."

Brooklyn chuckled as she poured the dye into the mixing bowl. "Boring, but I guess I can work with that. Just promise me you won't come out looking like a clown."

April shot her sister a mock glare as she sat down in front of the mirror. "Trust me, I've learned my lesson from the neon purple incident of '17."

As Brooklyn began to apply the dye to April's hair, she couldn't help but bring up the topic that had been weighing on her mind for weeks.

"You know, April, the Iron Maiden match is coming up soon. Have you really thought about what winning that match could mean for your career?"

April sighed, knowing where this conversation was headed. "Yes, mother, I've thought about it. A shot at the Women's World Championship. It's not exactly something I can ignore."

Brooklyn raised an eyebrow, her hands pausing in their work. "I get that, but do you understand the magnitude of what's at stake? This could be your chance to make history, to cement your legacy in this industry."

April felt a surge of frustration building inside her. She took a deep breath to try and keep her cool. "Of course I understand. I'm not stupid. But, I’m not out there busting my hump every week to try and cement anything. I don’t care about history - and I don’t need you putting that kind of pressure on me. I've worked hard, damn hard, to get here, and I don't need you reminding me of what's on the line every ten seconds."

Brooklyn bit her lip, feeling a pang of guilt at her sister's words. "I know, April. Look, I'm sorry. I just want what's best for you. I want you to succeed."

April let out a frustrated sigh as she wrapped a towel around her head. "I know you do, Brooklyn. But everyone looks at me, and all they see is Brooklyn’s kid sister - and they already have these grand expectations for me. D’you know how many times I had to stand there and listen to the same questions over and over from the trainees at the Performance Centre?

‘Hey, you think you’ll ever beat your sister’s title reign?’

‘When are you going to win your first title?’

‘Do you think you’ll ever be a Hall of Famer like, Brooklyn?’

What the hell am I supposed to do with that, Brooklyn? D’you have any idea what it’s like being the second Madrox in this company?”

“That’s on YOU; you made the choice of changing your name when you signed on here. You could have easily kept your Dad’s last name, but I guess it was just easier to-”

“Seriously, Brook, you’re going to throw that in my face? It’s bad enough that I hear that from mom and dad, but you’re supposed to be different. You’re supposed to be the one who believes in me DESPITE not being YOU. But no, you always show up treating me like I'm still the immature little sister who needs your guidance.”

“April, I didn’t …”

“I'm not a kid anymore. I know what the hell I’m doing and you can make stop asking me if I understand what’s at stake. I'm the one that’s standing on the precipice of becoming the next Iron Maiden, not YOU."

“What the hell,” Brooklyn begins, her arms crossing, “is that supposed to mean?”

“What the hell do you think it’s supposed to mean?”

Brooklyn's lips purchased together as she looked at her sister. “It sounds an awful lot like you’ve decided that you’re bigger than all of this,” she motioned around the room. “Sounds like you’ve outgrown the Murder, outgrown me.”

There’s silence for a long moment as April clenched and unclenched her jaw, the tears beginning to well up in her eyes as she tries to blink them away.

“N… no. Dammit, Brooklyn, you’re doing it again. You’re treating me like all of this is so black and white. You’ve been so preoccupied with getting to the bottom of what happened to Rowan,”

April quickly lifted her hands defensively

“and for good reason - but what I’m saying is that while you’ve had your attention elsewhere, Mai and I did something pretty damn special. I mean, when it was the Pack you and Rowan, Max and Dean, that was lightning in a bottle. You guys razed this company to the ground and didn’t make any excuses for it.”

April sniffed, dragging the back of her hand across her nose and shrugging her shoulders at her sister.

“So when you and Ro started the Murder and I saw Viv join up I knew that this had the potential of being something just as special.”

“Then things went to shit,” Brooklyn said unblinking, her eyes not leaving her sister.

“Yeah, things went to shit. Rowan wasn’t the only one who got hurt, Brook. I know you know that, but you and Viv have been working your tails off trying to figure that whole thing out while Mai and I have been left to our own devices for, probably, the first time in our careers, and look what we’ve accomplished.”

April turned away from her sister. Brooklyn's gaze softened as she met April's eyes in the mirror. "I know, April. And I couldn't be prouder of you. You've worked harder than anyone I know to get to where you are. But that doesn't mean I'm going to stop worrying about you."

April reached out and squeezed her sister's hand. "I know. And I appreciate it. But I need you to trust me. I know what I'm doing, and I'm going to give it everything I've got in that match."

Brooklyn smiled, her heart swelling with pride for her sister. "I do trust you, April. And I know you and Mai are going to knock it out of the park. Just promise me one thing."

April raised an eyebrow, curious. "What's that?"

Brooklyn leaned in closer, her voice barely a whisper. "Promise me you'll come back home in one piece."

April couldn't help but laugh, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders. "I promise; I'll always come back home to you."

-----------------------------------------

As the camera pans across the expansive interior of the Amerant Bank Arena in downtown Sunrise, Florida, the buzzing energy of anticipation fills the air of the empty arena. Outside the building, fans chatter excitedly as they stand in queues waiting for an opportunity to see one of the many IWF superstars as they arrive. Among the sea of eager faces, one figure stands out - April Madrox.

With a confident stride, April makes her way through the doors of the arena and begins snaking her way through the corridors of the arena, her eyes fixed on the task at hand. As she passes by various staff members and crew preparing for the night's events, she can't help but feel a sense of excitement building within her. This is her moment to shine, her chance to prove herself against some of the toughest competitors in the business.

She steps out onto the grand stage, adorned in its blue and silver, gambling motif; making her feel right at home. April steps to the edge of the stage as it begins its gradual decline towards the ring and looks out at the sea of empty seats. Here and there personnel dot the landscape, but for the most part, she feels alone amidst it all.

As she approaches the personal chambers designated for each competitor, April's curiosity gets the better of her, and she decides to take a closer look. She stops outside the first door, adorned with the nameplate "Charlotte Shimizu." With a wry smile, April pushes the door open and steps inside.

The chamber isn’t exactly spacious, but it certainly is minimalist, reflecting Charlotte's no-nonsense attitude. April takes in the sight, imagining the intensity that Charlotte will bring to the match. “Ya know,” she says with a grin, “I knew you had something special the first time I saw you wrestle. You impressed me then and you continue to impress me. I know we run in different circles, but I hope you know I respect you enough to give you my all - well, as long as you haven’t won this thing already before I even get out of my chamber. And yes, I know it’ll be hard to believe, but I do wish that you and Brook could somehow see eye to eye - or at the very least figure out a way to coexist; for my sake. I don’t want to have to choose between the two of you and you know it wouldn’t be fair. So I’m going to tell you the same thing I told her, trust me to make my own decisions and just let the chips fall where they may.”

Moving on to the next door, April finds herself outside Serenity Holmes' chamber. The door is adorned with images of fire and steel, a fitting tribute to Serenity's fiery persona. With a sense of reverence, April opens the door and steps inside.

The chamber is dimly lit, casting shadows across the walls. April can feel the intensity radiating from the room, a tangible reminder of Serenity's fierce determination. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself for the battle that lies ahead. “You seemed to be destined for absolutely nothing when you first joined Imperial, Serenity; d’you know that? I mean, you must have. You were the talk of the backstage with your grand promises that amounted to nothingness. You stop/started your way for months before looking like you’d be sent back to the Performance Centre for some more ‘refinement’ as Pooler likes to call it. But then you seemed to turn it all around and, even though you’re sitting on one win, you made that win count when it mattered.

She almost punched me the other night when I told Brooklyn that you reminded me of her, ya know. I mean, when Brook first joined up she was basically laughed out of the ring for weeks and weeks. It wasn’t until she found herself in a battle royal one December evening that she finally got a win when it counted. A month later she became the Diamonds Champion and the rest, as you know, is history.

I’m not going to put those kinds of expectations on you, because I know all too well how that feels. I will say that nobody in this match is going to be looking at you as the underdog anymore; you earned that bullseye, Serenity. Now it’s time to do something about it.”

Continuing her tour, April comes to Mai’s chamber. The door is adorned with symbols of strength and resilience, crows dotting most of the coverable space. With a sense of pride, April pushes the door open and steps inside.

The chamber is filled with the sound of heavy metal music blaring from a stereo in the corner. April can't help but smile at the sight, knowing that Mai had probably stopped by to drop it off earlier. April knew that Mai was somewhere in the arena preparing herself mentally and physically for the challenge ahead. She nods in admiration, silently acknowledging Mai as a worthy adversary. “Shit, Mai. Who, in a million years, would have looked at the Murder’s cadre of characters and picked the two of US to be the ones in this position? I mean, I know you’ve been here before and all that, but not like this - or at least never with me. This is all new, and it’s exciting and nerve-wracking. But you’ve always been the cool cucumber when it comes to stuff like this, yeah? I mean, don’t tell Brook, but I look up to you probably as much as I look up to her. You don’t let your emotions get the best of you like us Madroxs do. And that’s exactly what I need in a match like this, Mai. I need somebody to help keep me grounded.

There’s a high likelihood that I’m not even going to get into this match before things are over - but if that’s the case, then I hope you know I want it to be you. But, and this is a big but, if my pod door opens and it comes down to the two of us … girl, you know that I’m going to give you my absolute everything. The Iron Maiden belongs to the Murder, but I’ll be dammed if I don’t make you rip that honor out of my unconscious hands.”

As April moves on to the next chamber, she can feel the tension mounting. With each step, the weight of the impending match presses down on her shoulders. She knows that this is her moment, her chance to prove herself on the grandest stage of them all.

Finally, April arrives at Natasha Walker's chamber. The door is adorned with images of strength and determination, reflecting Natasha's unyielding spirit. With a sense of determination, April pushes the door open and steps inside.

The chamber is filled with affirmations that Natasha must have left for herself. April can't help but feel a sense of awe at Natasha's unwavering confidence, “Since your first match here, Nat, you’ve been this tour de force in the ring. I’ve heard Brook and Vivienne talking about you and, this may surprise you, it’s all been positive. You remind them of Ashley Mastralengo and Pandora Freeman-Hall-Kane Jingleheimer Schmidt … high praise, for sure. But while I can see the similarities, I think that you’ve got a level of determination and honor that, no shade on them, neither of those ladies had. You’ve been the same stand-up woman since you joined this company and it’s no wonder that you’ve found yourself shoulder to shoulder with the likes of Charlotte and Rin. The three of us, we might never fully see eye-to-eye, Nat, but know that I respect you - and it’s for that reason that I’m going to go full Super Saiyan on you. Like Charlotte, I can’t turn my back on you for a second without you, probably, winning the match. So, that pod door opens and you’re mine!”

With a small chuckle, April exits the pod and as soon as she locks eyes on the next pod, she can feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins. April makes her way to it, but unlike the others doesn’t enter it. She stands before the pod, her reflection warping slightly in the plexiglass surrounding it. She studies the nameplate for a moment, feeling a sense of respect for the veteran wrestler. But April knows that respect won't win her the match. “Abby … so much to say, but at this point, I feel like it just falls on deaf ears. I could sit here and sing your praises, sprinkle you with platitudes and adoration and you would just continue trying to be the coolest cousin at the kiddy table. So what’s the point?

You made your mind up a long, long time ago, Abby. You caught the tail end of a shitty situation at the Performance Centre and have let that define your working relationships ever since. I mean this from the bottom of my heart and with all the professionalism that I can muster, Abby … you need therapy. You need to talk to someone who isn’t all rainbow riddles and cute goth outfits; seriously.

Your entire career has been this cluster of stereotypical psych case nonsense and we’re all wondering exactly who you really are. The cute lil’ country bumpkin that rode the overalls of her brethren? How about the no-nonsense spawn of Kane? That seemed to be a mood for a minute or two until you realized that being a child of Kane felt like taking a number at a deli. So what was left? The lass who fell in love with a spoopy goth gal and have a relationship that nobody understands.

Shit … this isn’t the real Abby either, is it? No, this is just a Wish.com version of Brooklyn.

Diet Madrox

Big Bad Wolf-lite. Watered down, zero flavor.

You know,” she continued, staring at the pod, “for far too long I let myself worry about whether I did wrong by you at the PC. Should I have stuck up for you myself? Should I have tried to take the bottle out of Emma’s hands long enough to make a case for you?

No.

Because I didn’t know who you were then, Abby, and I still don’t.

Win or lose we’re probably only another couple months before you reinvent yourself once more and we’re back asking ourselves the same tired question, ‘Who are you, again?’”

With a dismissive shake of her head, April turned and made her way back to the entrance ramp. But as she passes the last of the pods she realizes, with a sinking feeling, that she has been assigned the unfortunate position of being released last into the match, trapped behind the plexiglass while her opponents battle it out in the ring. The odds are most definitely not stacked in her favor, but the only saving grace she has is that none of the other women are pushovers. They won’t go down easy and this year, probably more so than any of the previous years, the woman who walks out of this match will have unequivocally earned the title of Iron Maiden.

“Here goes nothing,” she smirks before disappearing behind the backstage curtain.