SOPHIE EL - "Student and Teacher."

[Izzy Anders]

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AUGUST 15TH 2015

It all started in a hospital, just like all life does. Instead of leaving the long-term apartment that was her mother’s womb, Sophie El woke up in a room full of people that looked too happy to see her. Aside from their unusually joyous looks, Sophie felt a throbbing pain in her head. She looked around aimlessly, ignoring the small congregation around her even further. She saw that their mouths moved, but they didn’t say anything to her. Or rather, she tuned them out with a click of the mental mute button.

“You’re in the hospital,” a disembodied voice spoke to Sophie, sounding frustrated beyond anything else. Sophie sat up straight, as if the voice was next to her. “Your name is Sophie. This is your family. I know it’s hard for you to process this, but to make matters short, you had an accident. It was terrible. There wasn’t any blood, no, but there were tears and hurt. Your…my…tears. Your…my…screams of anguish. The sounds of us being asphyxiated--“

Sophie’s hands clenched on that word. “Asphyxiation,” the voice spoke again, confused and intrigued in the same notion. “Choked out,” the voice added; the words came out slowly and lowly. “Suffocation,” another word that made Sophie clench her hand even more. Her “family” didn’t notice. They were too occupied with whatever they were saying. They didn’t realize that there was one audio stream and the voice occupying it was tormenting her.

“Those words? Do they scare you?” the womanly voice said, a new emotion incorporating her diction. Concern.

No answer came from Sophie El.

“They scare me too; it’s okay,” the voice explained, “Those words remind us of that…event. The event that has me in here, looking to the outside. You, Sophie, you’re something brand new. You’re a part of this world now. You’re a vagrant soul in the archive of knowledge. Use it to your advantage. You won’t know how to respond to these people who call you ‘sister’, ‘daughter’, and such, but they’re important to me.”

There was a pause. “However, they don’t have to be important to you. Because for all intents and purposes, I’m dead. Sophia Magda von Licht died via asphyxiation—“ 

Sophie El tensed up, taking a handful of the bedsheets. She could almost feel her fingernails ripping through the fabric with ease. “And now, Sophie El, takes her place. I’m only here to tell you why you’re here. You’re here, because I don’t want to be here anymore. This world is cruel, but you’ll be stronger than me. You’ll be cruel yourself. You’ll look at all the evil in the eye and smile like it doesn’t bother you.”

“Sophie El, listen to me,” the words made her stop trying to rip apart the bedsheets. “It doesn’t bother you, because you’re stronger than me,” there was another pause. “This is my goodbye.”

Sophie El didn’t know this voice; it could be some manifestation in her head. She could just be going mad. She was living such a wonderful dream before waking up in this hospital bed, surrounded by weird, affectionate people. 

“Please…make use of this world and prosper. Welcome to the real world, love. Now wake up. It’s time to play your part,” the sounds of radio static caused Sophie El to twitch. Whoever that person was that spoke so nicely to her had left, leaving only a wicked noise to accompany Sophie. Soon, silence settled down, which left room for Sophie’s consciousness. She decided to test it out.

“Hello?” Sophie asked, mentally. She swore she heard her voice echo.

“Hi,” a female voice, a tad deeper than her own came forward. Sophie swore it had an English accent.

“Are you my consciousness?” Sophie asked.

“…” there was a sigh that followed the silence where the reply was supposed to be, “Stop asking dumb questions and look to your left please.”

Sophie obeyed her consciousness and turned her head to gaze at her anticipating “family”. What an eclectic group of people. She wondered they were all adopted. She gazed at the older looking woman, who stood there, basking in the pleasant light. Tears stained her face, along with makeup. She had her hands clasped together, like a praying nun. She might have been doing that. This woman became “Religious Matriarch”. 

She only took a moment to gaze at the eldest man in the room. He stood resolute, with his arms crossed. Sophie wanted to reach up and tug at his immense mustache. Sophie decided against it; she labeled him as “Father”. That was after she labeled him as “Incredibly Old Brother”. 

The “little sister” only got that because of how anxious she looked, along with her short stature. “Oldest brother” stood close with his dark brown hair and his rather peculiar attire. Sophie tilted her head in his direction, which made him look even more flustered than he already was. Was he actually the “Father”? He dressed like one. Sophie resisted her giggles, because she knew that it wasn’t the time for them. Well, for them, anyways. They were all so worried over someone they never met before.

“Sophia?” the Religious Matriarch asked, reaching out a hand cautiously. Sophie took her hand gently, but evidently not in the way that the Matriarch wanted. It was courteous, not loving. It made the Matriarch retract her hand quickly, letting her face show clear aghast. Sophie pulled her hand back, a little hurt. The two women shared the same, flaxen hair. She wondered if they shared the same eye color. If so, that’s great, because the Matriarch’s eyes beamed with a brilliant shade of emerald. All Sophie needed was a mirror.

The rest of the “family” looked on in curiosity. Sophie’s eyes trailed off, looking out the window. She winced at how bright outside was. She squinted as she observed the traversing clouds. The fluffy bundles of matter floated slowly, peacefully. Sophie smiled at their innocent existence. She especially did when they blocked out the oh-so-horrendous sun for a moment. 

“Sophie…” it was the voice of the “Little Sister”. 

Sophie turned her head back, getting a good look at her. All the scars that lined her face couldn’t shroud the concern and the latent beauty she had. Sophie wanted to touch her scars, rub them, and see if they disappeared. Once again, it was not the time and place for that. Also, she didn’t want to incite the wrong ideas into anyone’s heads. 

“Yes?” Sophie drew out the words, trying to grasp a name in the archive that the disembodied voice spoke of. Nothing came forward. How frustrating.

“Are you okay?” an obvious question in a realm of not so obvious circumstances. 

Sophie nodded, “Yes, I am! Simply peachy!” 

The confusion of the “family” didn’t leave. They stood there, still cautious. A few minutes went by of silence, which made Sophie feel a new feeling. Awkwardness. She pursed her lips and looked around the room; she silently hoped that visiting hours would be over. As more time went on, Sophie knew what must be done. She sighed out.

“Uh, I hate to be that gal, but…who are you people?”

The tone in the room shifted. The Religious Matriarch turned and buried her face into the robust chest of the “Father”. She sobbed loudly, which made the “Oldest Brother” turn his head away. Little beads of grief manifested in the “Little Sister”’s eyes. “You don’t mean that,” she managed to say.

Sophie hated the fact that she giggled in response. Slight bewilderment came from “Little Sister”. “I’m completely serious. I don’t know who any of you are.”

The “Oldest Brother” left the room, plain and simple. The “Little Sister” turned away and punched the wall. The Religious Matriarch continued to sob, maybe even harder. Even the emotionless “Father” lowered his head in something akin to sorrow. Sophie could only look with a remnant of her original smile. 

“Um, Consciousness?” Sophie began to ask, “Did I say something wrong?”

Another pause before another answer. The exact one from earlier. “Sophie, stop asking dumb questions.”

=

To the people that don’t partake in watching Hard Knox Wrestling, they don’t know Sophie El, let alone know of her “bad” habit. If the fans didn’t know her, the janitors and the owners of venues knew her by name and face. They knew her, because of her painting. Artistic talent manifested in Sophie almost too greatly. Despite her youth, Sophie displayed a mastery in making paintings that mesmerized the eye. Strokes of color weaved together upon rudimentary walls, forming into an artistic piece of extreme imagination. Colors were carefully selected, highlighting Sophie’s mass array of artistic knowledge. She knew not only advanced colors, but their shades and compliments. She could illustrate the features of people that she has only saw pictures of. She even spoke out saying that she made it from both her memory and her thoughts.

In particular, the Freedom Hall Civic Center was Sophie’s canvas. Among the wall, Sophie played with an idea of mirroring. On side, Lady Magdalena, her mentor, stood proudly. With that otherworldly beauty and mystifying wickedness, she lingered over Sophie. Her hands rested upon her student’s shoulders, while she stared daggers at whatever person looked upon the painting. Her black dress was an offset of Sophie’s light clothing, a dove and raven duality. Sophie looked on in the painting with a dreamy expression; she was in heaven where she stood. She was a fledging, being made in something fantastic, a bird of prey…a predator.

While on the opposite side, Jolyne Dysart stood in emotional opposition to Sophie. She was sullen bordering upon silent fury. Opposing Sophie and Magdalena’s serene regality, Jolyne stood in warrior’s armor. She had red war paint accenting her fierce eyes. She rested her hands upon a sword embedded into the ground, a classic pose of a stalwart knight. Above her, with his arms out and a war cry styling his face, Wulf Erikssen stood proud and ready for a battle. He was watching over Jolyne, making sure that she would become the warrior he wants her to be. 

Sophie sat underneath her painting, cleaning brush after brush. She had etched the kanji for “love” upon her cheek in black paint. She was stained in all sorts of colors, but she looked at peace. In HKW, she also became known for humming “Twisted Nerve” throughout the halls. The trend continued here, the eerily cheerful harmonics emitting from her form. As she finished cleaning the paintbrush in her hand, she ended her song. She took a breath, put away her paintbrush, and looked down upon the remaining ones.

“Justice Riot vs. Le Pacte de Immortels,” Sophie began, taking up another brush, stained with red, “This is a match that pits two similar teams against each other.”

“Oh, I’m not referring to similar in styles. No, I mean, similar in composition. Two students and their two teachers pitted against one another. It’s something extraordinary to me. It raises the stakes for me. I have to prove that I’m the better student,” Sophie gushed slightly. “Do you not see all the different bits in this match?”

“Jolyne and I are both students with a year of wrestling under our belt. We both made it to the Quarterfinals in the Young Guns Cup. We were labeled dark horses by the masses. We both lost to eventual finalists. The only difference between us in this manner is that…” Sophie rose her bright, chartreuse eyes to the camera for only a moment, rounding out the almost-sinister look she gave the camera, “I made it farther than she did.”

“Does that ruffle your feathers any, Jolyne? I can spend all of this time lauding that insignificant fact over your head and you will be just as upset as if it really mattered. Then again, we live in a world of deceit. You’ll never tell me that you’re actually upset that I can do that. You’ll just use it as more motivation to kick me in my cute, little face, yes?” Sophie asked, dabbing the paintbrush in water. She flicked it harmlessly at the camera operator, who moved slightly, but readjusted. It made Sophie laugh.

“You’ll never tell me how it really felt to be labeled a loser for so long. Or that you felt fear when you almost got your head bashed in with a chair? Or how bad it felt to sit around without a job for who knows how long. Why? Because you don’t want me to have that sort of thoughts. You don’t want me in your head,” Sophie tapped the side of her temple. “But it doesn’t matter, Jolyne. It’s not hard to get into your head. You leave the door unlocked all the time.”

“The safeguard of your mentor will fade soon enough. We’ll take care of him. It won’t be easy, but nothing fun ever is,” Sophie dried the tip of the paintbrush, before squeezing water out the main portion. She safely stored it away, before taking out a heavy brush. She made a noise in relations to how much work she had to put into wringing it out.

“Once you lose in this tournament, you may be back to twiddling your thumbs. I wonder what goes through your mind when you lose. You probably haven’t adapted too much from your days in rEvolution. The taste of victory from last Vertigo is something you hang onto…worse than a cocaine addict hangs on to his last few bits. I want to rip that away from you, Jolyne, just to see what happens.”

She paused, leaning her head onto one shoulder. “Mmmm, that is if Wulf lets me do that. You care about Jolyne, right? She’s your only student or something like that, yeah? I wouldn’t know; I don’t live in your mind. Experience makes it boring. Because you’ve been through the world and all. I’m probably dubbed as the Lady’s friend and nothing more, right? I don’t even have a name to you. See, experience doesn’t just make you boring, but makes you ignorant too.”

“So, Wulf, can you let my Lady rip you apart while I play with Jolyne? If you could do that for me, I’ll buy you a snowcone or whatever you like. The pain will only be temporary,” Sophie pressed her index fingers together shyly. She stopped suddenly and looked off to the side. “Well, physical pain, sure. Mental? I don’t know. How much do you actually care about Jolyne?”

“We’ll test that,” Sophie said, with an airy giggle behind it.

“There’s a lot to test, you must understand? How far can I push my finger into Jolyne’s psyche? How much compassion does Wulf has for his student? Will he break himself for it? If you all can overcome my tests, then you’re on your way to victory,” Sophie once again paused, this time scowling slightly. “Well, you would be if this was a handicap match or I had someone else as my partner.”

“My Lady has told me to prepare for glory. She has entered this tournament with visions of gold. Her taste for it has grown exponentially and I cannot say that mine has not either. In fact, I carve it more than she does. Dare I say more than anyone else in this tournament? So you should believe me when I say that I am here to win, not to play in a game of chance.”

“I am here to take victories, not have them handed to me or struggle to win them. No, I will be taking this victory from you two. The notion that you both had a chance? Gone. It is up in smoke." 

Sophie turned to the painting of Justice Riot, giving it a soft look. “I gave you all this image, because you both are warriors. Yet, I did this not to glorify you two. No, not at all. This is a representation for you two and your inevitable fates,” Sophie stood up, taking out another paintbrush that was not washed.

“I never said I was done with this just yet. I just like to be tidy.”

Sophie went up to the painting and began her work again. By the end of it, Jolyne and Wulf stood there with a single red line across their necks. Blood trickled down their mouths and with a few strokes, the proud image of two combatants dissipated into two fallen warriors. “In war, warriors are not sent to win most of the time. Strategists know that many will die in a war before a victor is made. Consider yourselves two statistics, in a long line of many others. You two, the next two, and eventually, the Tag Team Champions will be just that…fallen warriors in front of two unstoppable forces. Because if there is one thing that will remain at the end of everything, it is My Lady and I.”

“For we are immortals and we will never die.”

=

MAY 5TH 2016

“You don’t have to watch the video, if you don’t want to,” said the womanly voice. “This doesn’t really apply to you. It’s my memory. I didn’t even have this DVD. You snatched it from Artemis’s collection.”

Over time, Sophie has learned that the voice that keeps speaking to her every now and again belonged to the person who formerly inhabited her body. Sophia Kaiser, she believed it was. It was confusing to say the least. Sophie got a little help from her older sister, Artemis. She told her that Sophia suffered an intense injury. When it happened, she slipped away mentally. That’s when Sophie El came into existence. She was something Sophia used to escape the reality of her pain. Sophia probably didn’t plan for Sophie to become a full-fledged human being.

Sophia didn’t care much for Luke Wisia. Yes, she felt bad for him, but he’s a nimrod to her. A somewhat lovable one, but still a nuisance. Sophia didn’t really like any of the HKW roster, really. They’re all so self-absorbed that it makes her sick. But most of all, Sophia didn’t condone Sophie’s relationship with Anastasia Starling. The only thing that both parties shared in common was their liking of Lady Magdalena. However, the feelings didn’t share the same intensity. 

Sophie liked Magdalena as an object for art. She was a beautiful woman that Sophie could make beautiful art for. Other than that, she hardly knew her. Sophia, on the other hand, would resurface in order to learn and cultivate a relationship with the Black Swan. What resulted was a true split in not just personalities, but in mentalities. Global Transient Amnesia proved to be exactly what it was. It was a door, essentially. 

“I was there when it happened as much as I hate to recall it. You don’t need to go through this and try to understand why you’re here. You have grown enough to handle things appropriately,” Sophia spoke. Sophie was still unsure if “Sophia” was actually a different part of her or was just a figment of her imagination. In any regard, she had someone to speak to at any given moment. It had its luxuries.

“But shouldn’t I know what this is about?” Sophie asked, holding up a DVD from Girl Power Wrestling.

“No, you really shouldn’t, but I cannot make decisions for you. I don’t control you that much,” Sophia explained, sighing. “I kind of wish I did. Perhaps you would not make some many mistakes.”

A jab at Sophie’s recent losses. Sophie made a disgruntled noise in response. “I’m sorry.”

“I never lost when I was still around, you know,” Sophia changed the subject, “I lost once, but then you showed up. But still, I was undefeated for who knows how long. Don’t you want that kind of glory to yourself?”

“I don’t know,” Sophie said, blankly. “I just know that I would like to be champion one day.”

“Then don’t watch that tape. It’ll mess with you; it really will. I’m on the right path in making you one. Lady Magdalena will make sure we’re on our way soon enough,” Sophia explained, sounding truly enamored with the Black Swan.

“You really like her…” Sophie said, a tad distracted by the design of the DVD case.

“I respect her,” Sophia corrected Sophie with a scornful tone. “I don’t have time for petty crushes like you think you do.”

“But I really like Ana, though,” Sophie sung, rocking back and forth with a blissful air. 

“ANYWAYS, you have your own moment that triggers that want, that tenacity. I don’t know when it’ll happen, but soon enough you’ll truly wake up. Then you’ll realize that there’s much work to be done, if you ever want to be champion, Sophie,” Sophia’s explanation went through Sophie’s “mind” hastily. “It’ll happen before you know it.”

“Will it hurt?” Sophie asked, putting the DVD case away.

“Oh yes,” Sophia began.

“It will hurt a lot.”