Havoc had not kicked off as she had planned. She had driven from LA to Glendale Arizona in her own car, her 1971 Dodge Dart Demon. There was sentimental value to it, namely it had been her fathers dream car from back in the day but he never had the opportunity to own one. It was a testament to him and that bitch Sarah had crashed into it at the damn arena. It cost a fortune to tow it back to LA, and she looked back at it one last time as the Body Shop closed the garage doors. She knew some homies who would hook her up and get it looking brand new, but now she walked.

Downtown LA was littered with restaurants and shops and she passed a magazine stand on the corner and turned red as hear swelled in her. There in the rack was the latest People Magazine with fuking Sean and Michelle on the cover. It read: Sean Parker / Michelle Learner – Retirement and Nuptials. She kicked the stand over in a fit of anger and the portly stand owner quickly waddled from his seat.

(Stand Owner): Hey! Goddamnit! Hey!

He shouted at her but Erica was already gone speed walking down the street. Sometimes in life even when you know the outcome of something, and you know how it will make you feel, you still go head in, diving into the process of the inevitable. Erica had known she would never receive an invitation to Sean and Michelle’s wedding, but some small part of her had wanted to go just as much as other parts of her didn’t. She knew invitations had all gone out, and the event was the talk on everyone’s lips, aside from the wrestling world…local news outlets had reported on their nuptials wishing them well, and now they were plastered on the cover of fuking magazines.

It was Los Angeles, it was American culture…being up celebrities’ asses is what Hollywood was all about. It didn’t take long for her to find one of her favorite dive bars and a few drinks in she was still wound up pacing the floor of the bathroom, cigarette dangling from the corner of her lips as if she were ready to pull her hair out as she mumbled and grumbled out loud, kicking the stall doors in frustration.

(Erica): Fuking bitch! Fuk ‘em! Nobody cares about their shit ass wedding anyway!

She took a drag of the cigarette and leaned against the wall. Seconds later the door opens and a woman comes in to use the restroom. She’s instantly assaulted as if intruding on private property.

(Erica): What the fuk you want? Get the fuk outta here bitch!

Erica grabs the woman by the hair and shoves her back through the door.

(Erica): Pinche Puta!

Seconds later the bar manager barges in, bat in hand.

(Manager): What the fuk Erica? That’s enough….Out….Now!

Erica looks at him, takes the last drag of her cigarette and tosses it to the floor as she blows a small plume of smoke in his direction, stepping forward unphased by his threating stance. She gently brushes the tip of the bat pointed at her aside staring him in the face.

(Erica): This place is shit anyway!

She shoulder bumps him on her way out, and patrons cheer as she leaves the bar. She lifts her hand extending her index finger in the air as she heads out the front door. On the out she pulls her phone out and dials the only person she knew who might be feeling some kind of way similar to her…..Azami Kiriyama. It rings…

(Azami): Hai? I was beginning to think you’d gotten cold feet. What is it?

(Erica): Cold feet? Por favor! I ain’t doing nothin…what you doin’? You see all this Parker wedding shit? A bitch can’t even go get a pack of smokes and the fuking magazine rack has their fuking photo on it.

Azami grits her teeth at the mention of the name Parker.

(Azami): I don’t care about that. We’ve got bigger fish than a fuking wedding remember. Besides, the wedding needs to happen for this to work, remember. And is this the piece of shit you’re driving around in? I thought HWA was meant to be paying top dollar?

The voice of Azami on the phone then gets crowded out by her actual voice as she walks over, ending the call. Erica turns here head hearing Azami’s voice.

(Erica): You following me bitch?

She smiles at her leaning against her car door.

(Erica): This…

She steps aside with her hand out so Azami can get a full view.

(Erica): This is the piece of shit Nissan from Hertz Rent-a-Car.

Azami scoffs, eyeing the car up and down, then remembering what happened at Havoc quickly dismissing it.

(Azami): Oh, right!

She looks back at Erica.

(Azami): Anyway, it’s 2026 and thank God for remote technology. I had to care of some… business…back home in Nihon. Besides if this is going to work, I should be here.

Erica’s eyes perk-up at her “back home” comment.

(Erica): Let me guess, checking up on. Mr. Miyagi? Fuker still licking his wounds?

As if not expecting a direct reply, Erica turns to her car, opens the door and pulls out a small handbag and rummages around inside. She pulls a joint out, lights it and takes a toke. She sticks it out to Azami offering her a puff. Azami just stares at the joint in disgust and simply offers a subtle shake of her head.

(Azami): I have no interest in him anymore. There were some… things to take care of back at my family estate. I don’t know where he is and I don’t care.

Erica shrugs her shoulders with a “suit yourself” kind of body language and takes another puff.

(Erica): Your too wound up Chica, you need to get fried or fuked! As for me…fry now…fuk later. The night is young, so what’s next then?

Erica looks at Azami ready to dive into whatever she’s got planned in her wicked little head. Meanwhile, Azami leans back on the hood of Erica’s pathetic rental car, hands tucked into the pockets of her leather jacket. She doesn’t look at Erica but can feel her eyes on her. She thinks about her “get fried or fuked” and “fuk later” comments and has a flash in her mind’s eye of the times she and Sean almost did it. She immediately shuts her eyes tight, banishing the images of Sean’s half naked, ripped torso from her mind.

(Azami): Michelle may be retired but he won’t be. He’s too stubborn and pigheaded to stay on the sidelines. I don’t care what a damn magazine or people backstage are saying. We need to force his hand. Give him no option but to come back.

(Erica): Are you kidding? He’s finished. I’ve never seen a boy so pussy-whipped, and he ain’t even got no pussy from the prude bitch. He’ll follow her like a sick puppy…all the way back to her fuking lily-white town of do-gooding, Jesus freaks.

(Azami): You don’t know him like I do, “Chica.” He loves her, but he loves wrestling more. He would die in a ring if he could. Just like his pathetic uncle. They’re cut from the same cloth. He’s easy to taunt and easy to trick, and I have a few tricks up my sleeve I have been dying to try out.

A flash of red from the Oni that Azami conjured through her twisted ritual, Aka Michi, sweeps across Azami’s eyes along with a twisted, almost turned on grin on her face. Erica has her own reaction at the mention of Butch. The man that brought her into the company with his empty promises and his pure wrestling bullshit. Used her like a cheap Mexican gardener to keep his precious lawn lush but when it came time to support her, he turned his back and all his little minions like Red Dragon turned with him.

(Erica): I know him well enough, but you’re right….he’d die in the damn ring if he could, probably wants to wrestle until he’s 100 damn years old. See that’s the problem… he thinks he’s invincible. He claims he doesn’t hide behind the name, but everybody knows he does…he’s more protected than the fuking President. And you know what else…

Erica pauses as she takes another puff from her joint pinched between two fingers. She pulls it back to see what’s left of it.

(Erica): It’s not just him…they all deserve what’s coming to them. Think about it…precious Sean isn’t the only one who screwed you over. They all did…just like they did me, it’s what they do.

(Azami): Everyone else is just collateral damage. But you’re right… Callahan, Branson, the Parkers… all of them…

Azami nudges Erica playfully, raising her eyebrows up and down.

(Azami): We’re gonna have so much fun.

Erica laughs, almost snorts choking on smoke from her joint.

(Erica): Hell yeah we are, and I can’t wait.

Erica looks seriously at Azami.

(Erica): Lemme ask you something? What was so special about him? What was it about him that got your girl parts all moist and made daddy dump you for him? He must have been very different back then because he’s a straight up self-righteous ass now.

Azami sighs through her nose. She thinks back to the times she and Sean had back in Okinawa. Training together.

(Azami): I dunno, he was just… different, alright? His dad died, my mom died and his uncle and my dad were obsessed with wrestling. We clicked. He was kind to me, made me feel like I wasn’t alone.

When my father brought him back to Japan all those years later, he wasn’t a little boy anymore. He was this young man, tall, muscles, blonde… and he…

Azami hangs on her sentence for a moment.

(Azami): He was just different alright, jeez… you’re telling me you never got jealous of him liking little miss goody-two-shoes and not you?

(Erica): I won’t lie…I tried once. He had the innocent blonde white boy thing going on but I thought maybe it was just something else you saw. He’s a practiced victim and liar. I’ve got dead family too, nobody coddled me. No rich uncle to bail me out of every predicament I could possibly get into.

Erica laughs out loud looking at Azami.

(Erica): You know, I kissed him and grabbed his dick one time…pissed that little #### off. She decked me but it was so worth it to see her fuking face. I felt it starting to get all hard because he thought he was kissing her. You should have seen his face. He knew he liked it.

She chuckles to herself again then relaxes back.

(Erica): So what is it you want to do? I can’t wait to see another look on their faces.

(Azami): Like I said, I have a couple of ideas that I want to test the waters on. That Callahan thinks she’s so smart, I want to make an example out of her. We start with her first at the ppv. That little washed up has-been, what’s her name? Alexia? Alexis? Keep an eye on her too. As for the filthy fuking gaijin… I think it’s best we wait till we’re behind closed doors to part my lips about that. I don’t trust anyone around her.

(Erica): You need squash Sarah and send a message. She’s so fuking nosey, always in people’s business where she doesn’t belong. She seems to want some of you anyway, and don’t worry about Alexis. She’s too busy trying to fill your daddy’s shoes at the academy with all their little wannabe wrestlers and trying to avoid Professor Hoff.

(Azami): Well, you faced that Hills Have Eyes abomination at Havoc, and blew it. Not exactly the start we wanted. We hit reset at Art of War and I’ll work on making sure people start putting some respect on our names.

Erica rolls her eyes, still frustrated by her loss to Luna Rain at Havoc.

(Erica): Don’t get me started with her. I tried to show her the ropes when she came along with the Blackthorne girls. Bitch leaves for several months for her annual family orgy and comes back with a stick up her ass. I’ve got her ass next time.

She thrusts her finger up in the air towards Azami.

(Erica): And for the record, she got lucky at Havoc and in that Battle Royal.

Azami inclines her head in acknowledgment.

(Azami): A bullshit concept anyway. So, are you taking me for a joy ride in this……thing?

Azami looks at the rental car with dislike, then begins to walk around to the passenger door.

(Azami): This part of town is seedy, and I don’t trust the eyes and ears around here…lets go and talk some proper strategy?

(Erica): What’s wrong with seedy?

As Azami reaches the passenger side she suddenly stops, looks down with disgust and realizes she’s stepped in gum, then gives Erica a look. She snickers as Azami scrapes her heels on the pavement.

(Azami): Oh, shut up…let’s go!

They get in the car and drive off to scheme for Art of War and beyond as the scene fades to black.