She's Really Good At Hurting Other People But Not Much Of Anything Else
rating: +10+x

Panzer let her mind bask in her future victory as she walked down the hallway to the stage, as she ran through the hallway, flooded in light, ears ringing from the crazed crowd yelling her name, hands already sore from high fiving some of the fans before striking a pose atop the ropes as her theme faded away and her opponent’s theme started. She let the crowd’s jeers for her opponent as the announcer presented him as the reigning Men’s Openweight Champion revitalize her, and the adrenaline giving her back all the strength she thought she didn’t have anymore when she slammed his face into the ring’s corner, first into the worn cushion that covered the buckles, then into the raw metal. And she let the sight of blood goad her into wanting more, more as she drove her screwdriver into his calf, more as she put him in a standing choke hold and savagely stomped on the injured leg when he reached for the ropes, until he did her favorite thing in the world: tap out.

It always felt better when they tapped out.

Something in the back of her mind wondered what the crowd saw the spectacle as, what the anomaly fooled their brains into seeing. She pushed that thought away and focused on lifting her arm along with the ref. Cries for the new Men’s Openweight Champion reverberated across the arena and nailed into her head. She groggily took the heavy, golden belt and slung it across her shoulder, waving at the fans and stumbling backstage, across the long white hallway and into the locker room, into the tiresome inevitability of her report.


“We lost Wolf.”


“Yeah. Fuck.” Panzer would’ve buried her face in her hands, if they weren’t too bruised for it. “Ethics board review. For saving Star Shooter’s fucking life.”

“We might get him b-”

“The hell we will.” Panzer tried her best to focus on the laptop screen where her conference call with The Nightwatch droned mercilessly on; she had been up for over a day, keeping up a careful balancing act of training, doing shows and being consumed with worry in the locker room. “You know what ‘ethics review’ means. They keep him out of action for half a year, then decide he’s unfit for this and send him to another project. Probably mindwipe him too. Christ.”


“Unfit for the project, dude. Because it’s so god damn easy to find researchers who can wrestle.”

“Elianna!” The Nightwatch raised his voice uncharacteristically loud. “Look, I know this is stressful, but you can’t let it get to you.”


“ Have you taken today’s pill?”

No. “Yes. Don’t patronize me. You’re my project lead, not my dad.” And a shoddy project lead, at that, she thought - he’d been running in circles in tiny independent circuits for a decade, never close to a contract from anyone noteworthy - nothing from CMLL, from NJPW, not even from the somewhat larger promotions in England that everyone seemed to graduate from. And of course, nothing, ever, from the WWE. Wolf was the only one in the team to have ever gotten a contract with them, and a great deal of good that’d done them for the whole three months he’d held it before blowing his cover. Panzer felt a twinge of jealousy, fueled by the knowledge that she would have done better - navigating the intricate maze of treachery and backstabbing, fending for herself, winning the Universal Championship. National television. Foundation honors.

“You don’t have to get uppity with me. I’m your friend, and I worry about you.” It took all of Panzer’s meager self-control not to roll her eyes. “You have a two day break after tonight, right?”


“Relax. I need you to focus if we’re gonna be one man down for god knows how long. Just, relax after today.”

“Thanks.” Fuck off and die. “See you.” Panzer closed the laptop. The small bottle of medicine on top of the desk rattled and glared at her with nagging insistence. Gingerly, Panzer fished out a pill, crammed it in her mouth and dry swallowed it. She gave a weak smile at the belt resting next to the computer, closed her eyes and vaguely remembered she had to do an autograph session just before she passed out.

Vince McMahon Dies At The End
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