No-one is invincible.
The walls are plastered white, veins of colour peeling off revealing the dull brown brick beneath. The laminate flooring that would usually shine with the reflection of the bright lights above, is now scuffed and scarred with footprints and dirt, obviously well-used in the last few hours. Silence hangs in the air, broken only by an awkward cough of some person somewhere.
As the camera lingers on the shot, a ring-side official and backstage technician wander by, talking with no particular interest in what the other has to say. And it is obvious where we are.
The hallowed halls of the FWW.
Where legends are born.
Where bodies are broken.
And where dreams are dashed.
And a dream was indeed destroyed but a few hours earlier.
Faith, after so many weeks of victories, was finally defeated.
As her soft footsteps echo down the hall, the camera inches slowly to the left until the T-section where one corridor converges with another is shown in the centre of the shot. And from that corridor emerges the supposed superstar, Faith.
At only 5'6, she is of course hardly the type of person you expect to see in professional wrestling, let alone have so many victories under her belt. Because as much as she dreams otherwise, Faith is still nothing but another face in the crowd. A nobody. Merely a voice without a name. She is, as much as it pains her, the kind of person you'd walk by on the streets without a second glance. Faith is not special.
And yet she is here. So something must have happened. Something that changed her life. The girl that nobody expected to achieve anything; the girl that was supposed to grow up to be nothing but a pretty face; to stand in silence and smile; that little girl from Blackpool, England has made something of herself. She achieved the impossible.
But her dream was her downfall. She had longed for this for so long. Sacrificed all that she held dear. Because it just didn't matter. It was as if her aspirations became the sole reason for her existence. Nothing mattered until she had achieved that dream. Until she proved all those who had laughed at her and kept her down wrong.
And when she did, it was...intoxicating.
She wanted to believe she was still herself, but she wasn't. Like so many others before her, Faith was caught up in a rollercoaster ride that she didn't want to end. The fame. The fortune. The fans. It was all too much. She was addicted to the thrill. Only when she entered the ring, when she was battling it out was she truly alive. But she was fooling herself. All these delusions of grandeur, of superstardom. She began to believe she was someone special.
But her loss at that night...
With the crash of the 3-count did Faith come crashing down to reality. She was no one.
Just a girl who got her lucky break.
Craig Stevens: "Faith - you're still here?"
Faith suddenly looks up, her silent trail of thought now interrupted. She hesitates, grasping for words.
Faith: "I - Been with the medics."
She points downwards, for below the jet black hot-pants she donned for her match that night is now a navy blue knee brace. It is actually quite surprising she got off so lightly after the ferocity of the match-up, but nonetheless, being the week before FWW's 'Sex and Violence' even that light injury to the knee could cause her to lose her title.
Craig Stevens: "I see. So care to comments on your loss tonight?"
Faith clears her throat awkwardly, but tosses her platinum hair behind one shoulder in an attempt to cover her uneasiness.
Faith: "Not...eckhmm...Not really"
But of course, those FWW interviewers are paid to get the latest scoops, and a scoop they will indeed always dig up.
Craig Stevens: "Well, you must be devastated after your defeat. I mean, you were undefeated. You could boast that no man - or woman - had pinned you...ever! And now you've lost and it'll forever be on your record that you lost. Goodbye winning streak! So long spotless no-loss record! You've lost once, you can lose again-"
As if her own conscience was not enough, Stevens drones on about the consequences of her loss. Her agitation clear, Faith's breathing deepens and, although not the focus of the shot, her fists clench slightly by her sides. Standing it no longer, Faith's hands whip up, cutting Stevens off in the middle of his rant.
Faith: "Look - I'm a little bummed, but who wouldn't be? Now if you'll-"
Like a predator and his prey, Stevens refuses to let Faith get away.
Craig Stevens: "So why did it happen? Were you confused after Hysterya was dropped from the line-up?"
Faith shrugs, looking around desperately as if for a means of escape.
Faith: "N-No...not really."
Craig Stevens: "Were you worried about Jake Matthews condition and couldn't keep your head in the match?"
Faith still appears to be paying no real attention to the supposed interview, but instead looks more eager to end it and leave.
Faith: "Jake's a big man - he can handle himself-"
Craig Stevens: "Do you blame Generation Elite for not allowing you to train?"
Faith suddenly turns to him, causing her blonde locks to fly around and over her opposite shoulder.
Faith: "What? Of course not!"
Craig Stevens: "Then was it because you-"
Faith: "What do you want me to say Craig? He got lucky? He cheated? The canvas was covered in glue? I don't do excuses. Because it doesn't matter what the circumstances were, it's Neo who's come out with the victory and that's all that counts. So obviously, the better man won. So just drop it. Now if you'll excuse me Craig?"
Faith nods to Mr. Stevens, who looks slightly taken aback, then turns and continues on her way down the corridor. Again, on her own and in silence, her eyes lower to the floor. She sighs, but not quite in sadness. There is more an air of uncertainty. Why wasn't she prepared? Why could she not counter? Why did she lose?
She arrives at a white door, an empty bronze slot where the name should be, had the crew not removed it and packed away a few hours ago now. She pushes the door open and enters the near empty room, but immediately turns and kicks the wall with her knee-high black boot in anger.
Faith: "The better man won? The hell she did!"
Her familiar white gym-bag occupies the corner, now blazoned with the England football team's logo of three blue lions. She pauses, covering her reddened face with her hands and breathing deeply.
But a man's voice calls from the corner.
Voice: "You messed up."
Her hands drops from her face as she gestures in exasperation.
Faith: "Ha! You think?"
Looking up towards the greying ceiling, Faith walks backwards and sits down on a wooden bench, leaning back onto the stone cold wall in a mixture of exhaustion, sadness and anger.
Voice: "You got too confident in your ability. You gave them the opportunity they were waiting for."
Hearing these words, Faith lifts her arm upwards and slams a fist backwards into the white-washed wall.
Voice: "You made a rookie's mistake."
Faith: "I am NOT a rookie."
The voice laughs amusedly, eerily calm and collected; a great contrast to the aggression in Faith's usually melodic voice.
Voice: "You have been employed as a professional wrestler for what - 8 weeks? Face it Faith, you're a rookie and you know it."
Faith stands, not angrily, but to justify herself to this stranger.
Faith: "The hell I'm a rookie - I've been wanting to do this, training to do this for as long as I remember, ok? I maybe a rookie in contract, but in action I can grapple with the best of them."
She cuts the air with her hand, looking towards the corner the opposite side to the camera, where we can only assume this mystery man is stood. However, his position means he is not visible in the shot.
Voice: "And this is what I mean. You have become too confident. You have lost your effort, expecting an easy victory. And you needed this loss tonight. It has reminded you of why you do this, why you wrestle."
Faith: "Hey - shut up. Don't pretend that you know me, Mister."
Faith steps towards him and points, anger burning in her gaze.
The voice chuckles again.
Voice: "Defiant as ever it seems. You lost tonight because you got lazy. You underestimated Neo. You put others before yourself and your training. You were a fool, Faith."
Faith: "I said shut up, right? This loss tonight was inevitable. Everyone gets beat sometime. This loss don't mean jack, ok? It's doesn't mean nothing. No-thing."
Voice: "Still deluding yourself you're special too, hey?"
Faith turns her back to the camera, but the movement of her hair behind her shows she is shaking her head slowly. But as we cannot see her face, we can only guess as to why.
Voice: "Look at yourself. Look at your record here. Eight weeks and only six victories?"
Faith remains turned away, but appearing to be staring at the floor.
Faith: "I would say that is a pretty good achievement."
Voice: "Of course you would. Because you still want to believe you're a star. That those crowds out there actually care about you. They don't Faith. You heard the details tonight, you actually expect to leave Sex and Violence with that title still around your waist. You haven't got it in you. You are another rookie, Faith, a rookie that will soon burn out and disappear."
Faith turns, her face angry but her eyes slightly glistening.
Faith: "Get out."
Voice: "You won't face the truth because it scares you. Because you want to be remembered, immortal in your reputation and achievements. You put on this facade that things don't bother you. That you're 'cool' with everything. You refuse to show weakness. And that is what makes you but a child. Not this unbeatable superstar you long to be, but a mere child."
Faith: "Get. Out."
A man steps forward from the corner and into shot for the first time. But only with his back to the camera. From this angle there is obviously nothing distinctive about this man, and nothing at all familiar. A simple beige trench coat covers his frame and there is nothing atop his head but his thinning black hair.
Man: "I can help you. You can truly achieve your dreams with my help. With me on your side, you can finally become that legend you've dreamt about since you were - what? - seven years old, Miss Adams."
Although she is only partially visible behind this mysterious man, we see Faith's eyes widen.
Faith: "H..How do you know my name? Who the hell are you?!"
His eerie laugh fills the silence again, and from his pocket this man pulls a small business card. He hands it to the unmoving Faith.
Man: "Just a blast from the past, child."
He pauses, then turns and leaves through that same nameless door. Faith is left in full view, but a strange sight compared to her usual self. Or at least self she allows us to see. Her face is deathly white, the run of a single tear down her cheek. She stands silent and unmoving.
She suddenly exhales, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand and shaking her head as if in denial. She blinks a few times and adjusts one of the straps of her white tanktop awkwardly, then happens to glance down at the business card left in her hand.
She stops.
Her hand lingers by her eye, then drops slowly to her side. If she is breathing at all, it is completely silent.
Her blue eyes follow the steps the owner of the card took but a few seconds ago, and stare out through the door.
Who was he? Why is he so important? We do not yet know.
But Faith remains unmoving, a thousand thoughts colliding in her head, but one thought more powerful than the others.
Faith. Neo. Orian Williams. Jeremy Page.
No-one is invincible.
