vs. The Gothfather

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Off Camera

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“I like the dreams of the future better than the history of the past.” --- Thomas Jefferson

The room contained a small bed, neatly made, two straight-backed chairs, a washstand, a bureau--without any mirror--and a small table. There were no drapery curtains at the dormer windows, no pictures on the wall. All day the sun had been pouring down upon the roof, and the little room was like an oven for heat. As there were no screens, the windows had not been raised. A big fly was buzzing angrily at one of them now, up and down, up and down, trying to get out.

I can empathize, in some ways, with that insect.  It is helpless, unable to change its situation.  I feel helpless and unable to change my situation.  The only difference is he didn’t intend to get stuck in my room.  I voluntarily put myself under the iron-willed rule of Quinn Murray, my owner and mistress.

She taught me everything she knew but I left her as soon as I had a professional wrestling career promised to me.  Now with my career seemingly going downhill, she’s promised to finish the lessons, she promised to finish teaching me everything she knows.  She just wanted me to make a sacrifice.  As it turns out, that sacrifice turned out to be my very soul.

No longer do I live with my brother Mark.  No longer can I go where I want when I want.  I live with Quinn Murray and I go where she wants me to go, do what she wants me to do.  In exchange, I listen to all of her invaluable words of wisdom.

It has seemingly been a good decision.  I managed to defeat Bill Barnhart on Breakdown.  My confidence is growing with every night I step foot inside of an SCW ring.  Now can I continue my momentum against The Gothfather?

The sound of the door opening startles me just slightly.  I turn my head in time to see Quinn Morgan’s dominating presence enter the room.  Immediately I swing my legs over the side of the bed and get up out of the bed, before immediately kneeling down before her.

“Good morning, my Mistress.”

Good morning, Sophie.  I trust your sleep went well?”

“It did, my Mistress.”

“Excellent.  I know this has been a tough time for you and I could only imagine how difficult these past few weeks must have been for you, trying to acclimated to life without your brother.  What’s his name again?”

“His name does not matter.” I hated having to say that, and it brings a tear to my eye, but I know it was the response she wanted to hear and I am rewarded with her running her hand through my long dark hair and a kiss planted on my forehead.

“Good girl!  You are learning your role very quickly, my pet.  But even I must admit that I am impressed with how much you have sacrificed for the sake of wisdom.”  She uses her hands to motion towards me. “Rise…”

Without question I stand up.

“You have already bore the fruits of further wisdom. You defeated Bill Barnhart on Breakdown.”

“Yet I failed to capture the United States Championship at Unflawed.”

“Stop that right now, Sophie.  This is a lesson in wisdom that you must learn.  What is in the past must stay in the past.  Always look to the future.  Always evolve.  That is what you are here for, is it not?  To evolve and grow?  To become a stronger, smarter athlete than you were before?”

“Yes, my Mistress.” I respond, nodding my head.

“Then don’t worry about your failure at Unflawed.  Focus on what happens going forward.”

“That also means ignoring this success against Barnhart.”

“Correct.  See?  You are learning quickly.  Your next focus should be on your next victim, or at least making sure he IS a victim.  What is his name?”

“His name is irrelevant.”

“Very good!” Quinn chuckles. “But seriously, I actually do need to know his name this time.”

“The Gothfather.”

“Ah, him; well, he hasn’t had much more like than that Barnhart fellow, now has he?  Doesn’t make him any less a threat.  I’m sure Glenn Braddock will have you ready.  Keep winning, Sophie, and I should be able to negotiate you into better matches and better bookings than the likes of Barnhart and Gothfather.”

“But I have to prove that I am worthy of the better bookings.”

“Correct.  But I have supreme confidence in your ability to win.  You have all of the tools to get the job done.  The only thing you lack is the true wisdom to use those tools effectively.” She taps me on my head. “I drilled many of those lessons in your head but just as you were near completion, you abandoned me.  You left me.”

“But I have returned to complete my training.”

“Yes, indeed you have.  And you have sacrificed so much in order to complete that training.  That’s why I am so proud of you, Sophie.  You have given your all, your entire self, over to me.  You were even willing to sacrifice a relationship with your brother Mark…for me…for wisdom.”

“I am your toy, my Mistress,” I shake my head “toys do not have brothers.”

“Too true.” She laughs somewhat nastily. “And with that, I am going to reward you handsomely with wisdom that no one alive knows.”

I perk up immediately, an anxious yet excited grin on my face, as I stare at her.

“Yes, my pet.  Today you shall learn The Truth of Quinn Murray.”

She turns and exits the bedroom.  It doesn’t take a brilliant tactician to determine that she expects me to follow her.  So I do follow closely behind.  As we walk down the hall of this floor of her immense mansion she begins to talk; she tells me a story.

“I am wealthy, my pet.  But no one becomes wealthy by chance.  Either they worked hard to earn it themselves or they inherited the wealth from wealthy parents.  Tell me, how do you think my wealth came to be?”

“I never thought about it, to be perfectly frank.  I knew you were the Owner and CEO of BEK Industries, a powerful worldwide conglomerate that has its toes dipped in numerous industries, focusing primarily on fashion.”

“I am the Owner and CEO but not the founder.”

“Then who did found that company, if it wasn’t you?”

“That is where our story begins.”

We arrive at the elevator.  She presses a button and immediately it opens. We step inside and the doors close.  She presses the very last button at the bottom of the panel.  It will send the elevator to a part of this house I’ve never been to before; the basement.

“Mr. and Mrs. Kennedy both were hard working people.  Like I said, no one ever just falls into wealth.  These two worked for their wealth.  They built themselves and their empire up from the ground.  They founded BEK Industries.  But that wasn’t what the valued the most.”

There’s only one thing more valuable to human life than their material possessions and money.” I remark rather coldly. “And that would be more human life.”

“Very good, my pet.  Yes, Mr. and Mrs. Kennedy had a daughter, her name was Bridget Eileen Kennedy.  They loved the girl a great deal, to a fault perhaps.  They loved her so much that they changed the name of their company to BEK Industries…”

“So that’s what the BEK stands for.” I muse out loud. “Bridget Eileen Kennedy.”

“Exactly.”

The elevator reaches the bottom and, presumably, the basement.  The doors slowly slide open and Quinn steps out first, followed by me.  The basement was dank and smelled of cigarettes.  It was more of a bunker, all concrete and little to no personality; the walls and ceilings had a yellow-tar sheen on them and the once cream carpet was dark grey and gritty with grime. Near the ceiling were long low windows, no wider than the slits in a castle turret but lying on their sides. Without any circulation of air the stagnant aroma made it dungeon-esque and the un-softened echo of my feet upon the floor brought on a claustrophobic feel.  There is a blue tarp covering one of the walls.

“What’s behind the tarp?” I ask quizzically.  I look at her for an answer but she acts as if she didn’t hear me.  But I know she heard me.  I certainly spoke loud enough and she doesn’t have hearing difficulties.  She’s just choosing to ignore me for some reason.   She continues with her story.

“Mr. and Mrs. Kennedy were loving parents, but as I said, they were perhaps loving to a fault.  They were overprotective of Bridget.  They sheltered her with their vast wealth and empire.  When she got old enough to realize that there was something else out there, she began to question their authority.  It didn’t help matters that they pressured her to conform to their very conservative, almost Stepford-like lifestyle.  They wanted her to marry a good man who could help her run the company so she and her man could follow in their footsteps.  Bridget had no desire to follow in her parent’s footsteps.”

“I can relate to having a not so good family life.  Granted my parents had slightly different problems than Bridget’s, I’d say.”

“And I think she’d agree your problems were far worse than hers.  She handled her problems similar to the way you and your brother handled yours.  She ran away from home.  No one knew what became of her and her parents were devastated.  They lived the rest of their lives as recluses, and their health slowly degenerated as they lost the will to live when their precious daughter left them.”

Quinn’s story is very intriguing.  It has me on the edge of my seat.

“What happened next?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Kennedy died, my pet.  That left the future of BEK up in the air.  Who would take control?  Distant relatives tried to lay claim to the company, due to the heir, Bridget, was presumably dead s well.  But then Bridget miraculously showed up at the last second to claim her rightful fortune.”

“Amazing.” I remark, in a stunned voice. “Simply amazing.  Who got the company?”

“Her distant relatives tried their best to keep it from her but her parents never changed the will.  The company would go to Bridget.”

I continue to stare straight ahead at Quinn, waiting for the rest of the story but she remains silent.  I furrow my brow in confusion.

“Mistress, I apologize but aren’t you going to finish the story?”

“I did.”

“Wait, I’m confused,” I shake my head “I thought Bridget had no interest in running the company?”

“You’re right, she didn’t.”

“So you bought it from her, I take it?”

“Oh silly little pet.” She says with a knowing grin. “Haven’t you guessed?  I AM Bridget Kennedy.”

That revelation nearly floors me.  And I am not easily shaken.  Still, I’m but merely her toy, her possession, and to be the only one allowed to know this piece of wisdom does make me feel honored and privileged indeed.  I grasp her hand and I kiss it.

“Thank you for sharing this wisdom with me, my Mistress.  I do feel privileged to be among the elite few to know this secret truth.  But why do you refuse to use your birth name?”

“My birth name…” she scoffs “…I only use it when I have to, if the board ever requires my physical presence.  They’ve been accepting of a representative going in my place to speak to them on my behalf.  They are corporate snobs, they don’t care as long as their pockets are lined with cash.  As far as why I don’t use the name more often; there is more reason to it than just merely the fact that I hated my parents, if that’s what you are wondering.”

“Why, if you don’t mind my asking, my Mistress?”

“I’m glad you asked.” She says with a knowing grin. “When I ran away from home, I got mixed up with a lot of bad people.  I also got mixed up with a lot of good people.  I learned things about humanity and about myself.  I learned I was not a Kennedy.  I was NEVER a Kennedy.”

I watch her carefully and cautiously as she makes her way over towards the blue tarp.  She places a hand on it.  She jerks on the tarp, causing it to tumble to the ground.  As it turns out the tarp was covering up a painting; a painting I easily recognize from my own studies in Greek mythology.

“Athena, the Greek Goddess of Wisdom.”

“I don’t go by that name any longer, my pet.”

I blink several times.  I pause, trying to figure out if I heard her right.  I look directly into her eyes with doubt in my own eyes.

“You can’t be serious…”

She rears back and slaps me hard across the face.  The smile of confidence on her face changes to a look of anger.

“That was for doubting me.  Another lesson in wisdom for you today, my pet; keep an open mind.  There are things in existence that you know nothing of.  Did you not question why you were my pet and I your owner?  You are not equal with a goddess.”

I rub the sting out of my cheek for a moment, all the while contemplating what I should do next.  It doesn’t take long for me to decide what to do.  I kneel down before this woman, a woman most would describe as insane, but who I am still trying to figure out.

“Glad you know your place, my pet.  Just remember, keep this secret of wisdom between us.  The world is not ready for the truth just yet.”

“Of course, my Mistress.”

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On Camera

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Ever since I returned to the life and career of my own personal weapon, MY Sophie O’Brian, her career has begun to slowly improve.  My Sophie O’Brian ran Billy Breakdown out of Supreme Championship Wrestling.  My Sophie O’Brian came oh so close to ruining that joke Ikiro’s run to the United States Championship.  But one minor speed bump didn’t stop her.  My Sophie O’Brian would bounce right back and keep moving forward with a win over Bill Barnhart.

Now she has this fool named The Gothfather to contend with.

Gothfather, I somewhat doubt that you have My Sophie beat in terms of physical prowess.  You may be a technical marvel, but she’s better than you in a straight scientific match.  I know it because she was trained by the best wrestler in the world.  And even if you want to brawl with her, I imagine she could still hold her own.

Gothfather, you most definitely have My Sophie O’Brian bested in terms of physical prowess, but what you have in strength you LACK in wisdom.  That is where My Sophie O’Brian will be victorious.  She will outthink you.

Not that it’s a major feat.  A trained monkey could outthink you, Neanderthal.

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On Camera

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Sun Tzu says, “Thus, what is of supreme importance in war is to attack the enemy's strategy.”

A brute like you is easy to read, Gothfather.  I can read you like a book just as easily as you could take a bath if you actually bothered to do that once in awhile.  And because I can read you like a book, I can attack your strategy before you even know you have a damn strategy.

You should know this, Goth-Person…might as well be Politically Correct.  If you have even have the smallest bit of ring awareness…and you no doubt do, with those many years of experience under your belt…you should know to do your homework on your opponent.  And if you’ve done your homework on me, then you will know that no one matches me in terms of pure submission and technical wrestling ability.

In other words, I can hurt you in any way I see fit.

If you try to change your method of attack, I can adapt to any style.  I’ve bled before and I am not afraid to bleed again.  And I’ve grounded the best high flyers.  And go ahead, use power and strength against me, but I don’t go down in defeat that easily.

Quite honestly, mate, you do not have the chops to put me down.

There is something else I have that you do not have, Goth-Person; a will to win.  As cheesy and corny as that may sound, it is a fact.  Ever since you arrived here in Supreme Championship Wrestling you’ve managed to do all of nothing in this company.  And you’ve maintained that status quo your entire SCW career without doing a damn thing to try and change your place.  It’s as if you are ok with where you are.

Granted, I haven’t done much either during my year in SCW.  The only difference between you and me is I am actively trying to change my spot.  I am not ok with where I am in SCW so I am doing everything and anything to improve my game, both physically and mentally.  I am learning more and more about how to physically take another human being apart and how to mentally take them apart, because I do not want to stay where I am.

You, Goth-Person, clearly are ok staying where you are.  And that’s fine with me, because I will gladly step over your beaten, bruised carcass on my way to the top where I belong.