TIME IN A BOTTLE

[Izzy Anders]

---

Some would say that I wrestled the perfect match on that fateful night. I went after Cordy’s arm, almost ripped it out of socket a few times, and made good on making her feel all the pain I felt. We threw all we could at one another. Every big move that we had, they went out there, but at the end, I was proven wrong once again. Cordy Stevenson put me down, despite all my best efforts. It took two Get Familiar’s to do it, but to me, it didn’t matter. It could have five of them, but it didn’t cushion the pain of loss. Cordy Stevenson beat me and went on to win the FGA World Championship. Whatever I said in my videos, on Twitter, and on interviews meant nothing. Izzy Anders fell short that night. 

I hauled myself backstage, hearing the slight laughter of the more perspective fans. They caught me at my lowest. I lost outright and had to commit to the walk of shame. That’s what they saw. I managed to leave them with disappointment. As I left, I rose my head up proudly and kept a smile on my face. I lost that night, but I didn’t lose what makes me who I am. My pride was still intact, because I didn’t go down easy. I outwrestled the FGA World Champion on that night. She won, but people will start to whisper to themselves about me having Cordy’s number next time. The only difference between when they said it about Cordy and when they say it about me? I won’t need so many times to prove the theory right. Next time I face Cordy Stevenson, I’m winning. That’s a self-imposed promise. 

I watched intently as Cordy Stevenson ended Tony Carmine’s career in FGA. She brought him the final disappointment he needed to experience. With one move, she shot The New Kings fatally. More than that, she held what she fought so hard for. Cordy had a comeback year to remember. She’ll win all the awards. All I hope is that I get to share one with her for the Match of the Year. It’ll be bittersweet, but the acknowledgment of what transpired out there would be great. I stood up from where I sat and marched down to where I knew Cordy would be bombarded with petty questions.

Before Cindy Parker rushed her happy ass anywhere close, I needed to congratulate Cordy. Then I needed to vanish for a while. I felt the dormant feeling of inadequacy growing back in me. I knew somewhere in the recesses of my mind that seeing Cordy with the championship would hurt. When I made my way into view, I looked at Cordy. She spoke with elation unrivaled. Spencer even broke his professionalism for it, but then I saw his face contort with absolute fear. To tell the truth, it did feel good that he feared me in some manner. If not me entirely, he feared what I was capable of doing. Cordy followed his gaze to meet my glare. Then came the silence that only happens every so often. 

I wanted to hate her. Everything I said in my video about her was honest.

I saw those gorgeous eyes of hers, twinkling with bravery and pride. Her body tensed up not with apprehension, but with a protective essence. She walked up to me, standing only mere inches before me. She held the championship that I needed to have. With that belt and that position, I would be able to burn this cesspool to the ground. I could live my dream out. I could feel happy again. She robbed me of that happiness. I should have slammed her face into the wall and broke her down.

But…

I couldn’t.

Instead, I embraced her. I hugged her close to me like I would a lover. She didn’t try to retaliate, instead she wrapped her arms around me just as tightly. I released her, feeling my cheeks burn due to a wide grin. In the moment of me congratulating her, apologizing, and telling her how I felt, I made time move backward. The scars didn’t hurt anymore and the hate didn’t eat away at me. I simply felt adoration for a woman whose dreams finally came true. It was so unfamiliar, the genuine glee I had. I had not felt that since I started wrestling.

I wanted to catch that moment in a bottle.

Alas, I could not.

I told Cordy that no matter what I was coming back for her and the championship. I didn’t care that she was going to stand against me. I know her. I know Cordy will fight me against her last breath. She knows that I will gladly take it from her if it means FGA is dead. We both know that we mean so much to one another, but when we fight again, we will be enemies. She told me that people like her, Fujiko, Herrera, Karma, and Scott will always be there to stop people like me. I could not help but smirk at her words. She must not know that the other people are irrelevant to me. She was the World Champion and my goal. I had to beat her and her alone. We went our separate ways. She went to celebrate with obnoxious music and heavy drinking. I went off to recover from the mental damage of losing my biggest shot.

As I collected my things and walked out, I thought about the moment of stillness back there. The thoughts were not about how I felt. The thought, moreover, was why I felt that way. It didn’t take long for me to find the answer. The match that I had tonight brought out something that I forgotten long ago. I despise FGA and everything it stands for, but throughout this mission of mine, I lost sight of what I was. I lost sight of what made me want to do this to begin with. 

My match against Cordy Stevenson reminded me that I love wrestling. 

I cursed myself as I came to realize that. My self-hating action’s motivation did not stem from the remembrance. It was what that moment backstage stood for. Then and there, the hatred that a part of me felt for Cordy Stevenson intensified. I clenched my sore fist, knowing very well what Cordy could do to me. In the hallway of the Boardwalk Hall, I made my decision. Cordy Stevenson had to lose to me. She had to be my final opponent before FGA dies. Because she did something to me that no other person was able to do.

Cordy Stevenson made me forget my dream.

As long as Cordy Stevenson stands, she can stop me from ridding the world of Frontier Grappling Arts.

I can’t have that, can I?

---

“Rick Young, JD Anton, Kevin Keller, Courtney Leinart, Matt Bishop…”

Izzy Anders sat comfortably against the wall of some unknown location. Knowing Izzy, the location could be anywhere on Earth. The most important thing was that she held a list in her hand. The list bore names of the people whose names she recited at the opening of the video. Garbed in a Marilyn Monroe shirt that shrouded her stocky figure and black, baggy pants, Izzy completed her look by tying up her hair in a messy bun. She huffed out before taking a glance at the camera. 

“What do these names mean? Well, there’s a magnitude of them. Before I go on about those, I need to give you viewers at home a primer.”

“You know I pay an awful amount of attention to the people that randomly show up in FGA.”

“No, don’t get it twisted. I don’t follow them throughout their whole career. I don’t have time for that. I got better things to do like chew bubblegum or file taxes.”

“I like to keep track of how many people come in and out of FGA. I wonder how many of them realized that this place is utter shit and left in a heartbeat. It could help me prove my point to the idiotic that this place does need to burn. However, my journey for vindication never gets far, because I find out why these people leave before they can get comfortable.”

“They suck.”

“FGA, despite all I say about it, is a place that collects talent. Chandler, Cannon, Cordy, and Taylor are some names on the go-to list. Oh yeah, add my name in big, gold letters on there too. For a place to harbor that much talent, you must be at the top of your game. It’s extraordinary when you have people like Jimmy Page hold the World Championship as long as he did. It’s even more impressive when someone holds the Mid-Atlantic Legacy Championship for an unprecedented five defenses.”

“With that being said, you can see another reason why I pay attention to the signing news. I used to have to scout out competition. Some of the folks walking in may have been knocking on my door for a title match. People like Skylar Cloud, our lord and savior, Kurosawa Chavez, and Nero were possible threats to my legendary title reign. It’s what you’re supposed to do, right?”

“You have to understand my disappointment when I noticed that people got released because of how awful they were. They weren’t up to snuff. All of the four dudes that debuted with me back a year ago, all left after they lost to me. People didn’t go to greener pastures. They didn’t escape this hellhole to make it to some promised land. Fortunately, many of them went off and died somewhere. I never heard from them every again.”

“Every once in a while, you get a name that makes your eyebrow quiver. Someone that shows promise or has some prestige behind them.”

“Evan Envi, Molly Reid, Zero McHannon. They all have some definite prestige behind them as they walked in. It led them to having some crucial success here.”

“Then you have your wildcard. You have your Erin Gordon.”

“I saw your match, sweetheart. You got some power behind those strikes of yours. I look forward to tasting them myself. Unf.”

“When I saw that cute face of yours, I saw a bit of fire in those eyes of yours. You didn’t look soulless like all the others before you. No, you’ve been in the ring before. You’ve reached for gold and wanted more. You want to make a name for yourself. You want to be something, don’t cha?”

“I commend that. You’re not super established, but you’re not a nameless figure to me. In fact, I found myself tapping my chin when I saw your name show up. ‘Erin Gordon? I know that name from somewhere’.”

“I pondered on that for a while until I saw that we got to fight. So, I had to go deeper.”

“That’s when I found you in SCW.”

“Ugh.”

“With one single line, you managed to make me want to puke. Take that as a good thing, but you’re going to realize that is a bad thing. Because let me admit something. I hate SCW. Well, that’s unfair. SCW is not capable of understanding my hatred. Furthermore, if it did, it would feel bad. So, let me clarify my statement.”

“I hate the people that come from SCW, outside of Evan Envi.”

“I hate Whiskey Ayano. I hate Dexter Jacobs. I hate Brytain Rollins. I hate Michael Norcia. I hate Rex Evans. For any bastard living under a rock, I wish Dom Harter hangs himself with barbed wire…to put it lightly. SCW was a breeding ground for stupid and the damned. I’m glad it died. Regardless, I rather not spend all of the tape roll saying who I hate from there. If the point is not apparent by now, then let me get even more specific, you dumbass.”

“I hate you, Erin Gordon.”

“It is our first meeting and I already do.”

“Why?”

“It’s very simple. You’re one of the people I hate most. You come into FGA, you’re going to sit down, and get comfortable. You’re not going to behave like all the other miserable failures that come in and out of FGA. No, you’re going to stay awhile.”

“I know your type. You’re one of the people that like to make others look bad. Does it fill some vacancy in your heart? Did you fail out somewhere and had to come to wrestling? That’s pathetic. You’re on par with Annie Zellor. You’re not a hero or a vigilante. You’re just one of those people that always an opinion that no one ever asked for.”

“The only issue with your whole mindset is that you’re one of the people that Cordy spoke to me about. The kind of people that will stand up against me. You’re going to stand in the way of my dream and try to stop me from doing what I need to do. Why? Because you’re selfish and you have to make up for lost time. You got to make yourself better by infringing on my dream?!”

“I’m going to have to exterminate you now before you become a nuisance.”

“Usually, I would beat you to the point of retirement, leave you as a bloodstain on the ring mat. No, not this time. I’m actually going to leave you in one piece.”

“I’m going to outwrestle you. I don’t say that often. Outwrestling people have never been my prerogative. Instead, I’m the type to leave people hurting. For you, though, I’m going to make this match as embarrassing as possible for you. Because simple pain won’t do it for you. So, I have to do this.”

“This embarrassment that you’ll feel makes people want to run away and tuck their tail between their legs. It makes cowards out of people. You’re not a coward, though, Gordon, I know that. But I’ll make you wish you were one. I’m going to make you wish you never came to FGA, not by pain, but by crushing that ego you’ve built up for yourself. Teach you not to step out of line.”

“This is FGA, not SCW. You’re not anything special. You’re just another cog in the system. And you can’t stop what’s about to happen to you.”

“You’re not going to just serve as an example to all those other idiots that will try to stop me. No, you’re going to be my crowning achievement in...wiping the mind clean. I don’t call myself the ‘Mindkiller’ because it sounds cool. I call myself that because when I beat people, it changes them entirely. I made Savannah Taylor question herself. Noelle Smith begs for me to give her another chance. I made Fujiko Mine and all of her fucktards at Renati hate me for beating her twice!”

“I’m the Mindkiller because I rip away petty thoughts and exert my will on people. My will slowly eats away at people until they must realize the things that I say are the truth. So not only will I make you realize that I’m better than you by beating you in the most cruel and embarrassing way possible. I’m going to make you know that your dream is nothing and my dream will be realized.”

“Gordon, I’m going to remind you to follow the natural order and stop trying to be a hero.”