Torture Days, Fever Dreams and the Holidays…

By: Druscilla White

Writing Prompt: Yes

Date: 27th Dec 2021

🐺🐺Parental Discretion is Advised.🐺🐺
The following scenes will make use of foul language, rape, gore, sex, drugs, rock and roll, and adult themes.
If any of this disturbs you or causes you to feel scared, awkward, sad or triggered;
🐺🐺Do Not Continue Further.🐺🐺
The writer reserves the right to utilize the aforementioned techniques to further a storyline.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
💋You Have Been Warned.💋

—— December 18th – 21st 2021 —–
——- Location: Wolves of Óðinn Minnesota Compound —–

Louisiana. The Bayou. My greatest joy; my home. I miss it. Over 200 people go missing in the state of Louisiana per year; don’t believe me? Look it up.

Sure, some people fall victim to hunting faux pas, hiking incidents or simply run away but some… Some succumb to the powerful jaws of the gators. Most assume that’s what’s happened to their loved ones. Devoured by gators. Their remains are left in a pile of gator shit. A sad commentary on their lives, really. How awful were they, as human beings, that their life could be summed up as gator shit?

Roscoe wishes it would be that quick…

But, he was to suffer a fate far worse than being eaten by a large reptile.

Now, we aren’t actually IN Louisiana. We’re heading North… To where it’s cold. To where it’s snow-deep. To where NO ONE will notice blood. To where NO ONE will hear the screams…

Minnesota was actually ranked 34th in the entire US for their missing population. A mere 170, in comparison to other states. For example, Oklahoma has 252 missing people per. The deficit was rather staggering. But the level of safety that Minnesota held dear, their lower missing people population, wouldn’t be altered. Not by us. Considering, no one knew what was about to happen… Save 6 people. And honestly… Who would miss Roscoe, other than his sister?


Deep in the lowlands of Minnesota, Robi’s compound was well under construction. My journey had taken me across the globe; and it was going to end where the snow fell. A story that had many desolate and demented chapters was about to come to a close. This wasn’t murder. This wasn’t death, this was ending a circle of hate that had all but consumed me.

This was vengeance.

I had arrived in secret; so I had thought. Bundled in the fur-lined coat that I had from my time in Russia and carrying only the supplies I needed to make Roscoe regret absolutely everything. However, when I had left the landing strip, I was met by Robi, herself and her newest Wolf, Ryder.


”Really? Trying to sneak your way into my compound?” Robi glared at me, but I smiled a bit and shrugged. ”Can you blame me?” Her stern glare was enough to send even the most hardened of criminals running; but me? I’d seen it so many times over the years, I had honestly become immune to it. Especially since I had “died”. Death changes you. Not always for the better…

Ryder grabbed my bag of goodies and looked at Robi quizzically. It was disturbingly heavy. And the way things rattled inside, it was obvious it wasn’t clothing. “I guess you weren’t plannin’ on stayin’…” His eyes shifted to me, again, I shrugged. I really wasn’t planning on going home. I wasn’t planning on surviving this. Roscoe and I had been so bound to one another throughout our lives, I knew how this was going to end.

Yeah, I had my daughter to think of. But, I had that squared away. Robi was to have custody of Priscilla when I died.

My businesses? They would change hands to Cela and Diesel. Just like DruBrew had.

My home and kitties? Mama and Henry would inherit them.

But… What about my career? As a Wrestler? I had just made a fine showing in Project: Honor last week, and had been booked for the next big Pay-Per-View. What about that? Hell, what about Fight? I had defended my title against Austin and was slated to defend it once more against Apathy…

Well, I wasn’t sure there. If I died, someone else would become the Bareknuckle Champion and Project: Honor would continue on without me. In time, Robi would understand… But would my friends in Fight?…

”Come on, Dru, let’s go.” Robi grabbed my arm, yanking me from my thoughts and escorted me to her convoy. Even Robi sensed there was something wrong…

During the days that followed, I became very well versed in the lakelands of Minnesota. I spent time out in nature between sessions with Roscoe. We kept him hydrated with saline solutions and blood transfusions. We weren’t going to make this quick or easy. Hell, Robi kept him dosed with tetrodotoxin the whole time, disabling his ability to move, but allowing every single nerve ending to FEEL.

We wanted him to suffer.

The way I had suffered. The way Robi and the Wolves had suffered. The way my daughter, Priscilla, had suffered.

He may not have laid a hand on Priscilla, but he threw her into the same spiral I had been in.

He may not have pulled the trigger, but because of him, I almost left this world.

He may not have been the one to cause all of the hurt I had endured, but he was certainly a massive part of it.

So, Robi and I were going to make him feel it.

Skin him?

Of course I did…

Dissect his fingers?

Yes, I most certainly did. Portions, anyway…

Stew his toes?

I left that for the Queen of the Wolves.

Fry his testicles?

Damned right I did.

In Bar-B-Que sauce.

Oh, we were going to make it hurt. We were going to make him pray to whatever Gods he prayed to.

I was crazy. I was out of my mind; covered in his blood and relishing the screams he made when I touched the raw, exposed sinew of his thighs. Robi, watching from behind me, contemplating what she needed to do, looked at Ryder briefly. I had straddled Roscoe, leaning into him, whispering something in his ear as he wept. He looked at Robi, his blood-covered eyes pleading with her to make me stop.

I took my gun, one of my beloved Chiappa Rhino 60DS, this one aptly named “Sinner“, and pressed it to his temple. I cackled! Pulling the hammer back, slowly, I scooched a little closer to him, in his lap, letting the sharpness of my jeans RIIIIIIP and drag against his fleshy, skinless thighs. ”Are you ready to meet your Gods?” I snarled, finger on the trigger.

Now, before I could pull that trigger, Robi nodded to Ryder, who grabbed my hand and lifted it upwards as he yanked me off Roscoe quickly. The gun fired, leaving a large hole in Robi’s brand new ceiling. Oops? I, however, was screaming enough profanities to make a Sailor blush and run to Confessional. Ryder pinned my arms to my sides as she walked over to me. She was angry, but I was livid!!!

Robi pulled back and I watched in absolute horror as her right foot stepped behind her and she leaned all of her weight into the swing!


I… Was… Out… Cold…


I had no idea, but I had slipped into a dream world, all my own, thanks to Robi. And in that dreamy haze, I saw it all….

The Prime Championship. I hadn’t really thought of going for a title in Project: Honor, but Robi and the powers that be… They thought differently. And this had put me through the ringer. Fighting two, rather sturdy men, at the same time, was not really a happy place for me to be. Especially not when one of those men was fucking HAVOC! We were stablemates. We didn’t know one another for shit. But, we had put that aside for a moment, and handled Julius Fairweather with ease.

Flinging him down to the depths was easy. Oddly, Havoc and I worked fairly well together. Him setting me up for my Drakon’s Call, and my setting him up for Devil’s Repent. We tagged out to one another, not letting Julius get a breath.

We couldn’t.

True Society was going to keep the Prime title. Now… Havoc thought it would be him to walk out of this ring with it, when in reality… It would be ME.

I had shed blood in this ring. I had shed sweat and tears. I had the want and the vigor; this title was going to be mine.

Julius fell, the ref calling the 3 count down, but then… We turned on one another.

Havoc launched at me with a ClimaX, but I managed to drop to the mat and roll out of the way. Barely. While he was dazed, I set myself up for Mooncraft Prayer… When I leapt off the rope… He rolled to the side. I slammed hard into the mat. I was winded a bit, but not enough for him to get the pin. I climbed to my feet, while he rushed me, staggering me a little with a few blows to the chest.

He pulled to the side, trying to line me up for one of his damned finishers, but I was little. I was quick. I was smart. While he had his attention elsewhere, I flew into a Biker’s Promise. Blows to his chest. Repeatedly. Coming harder. And harder. And harder as I turned him around.

I could HEAR the crowd!

I could FEEL their heat; their raw energy.

It fueled me.

While Havoc was stunned, breathing heavier, sweating more; I climbed the ropes. Now, I wasn’t one to cheat; often… But, I also wasn’t one to stop when I saw an opening. I kicked off the top rope and SLAMMED into Havoc’s body, landing a VooDoo Queen!

I grunted, hard, as I grabbed ahold of his body, pulling him into the ending sleeper and awaited the ref. I was tired. I was rather bruised, still from my dance with Robi, then Austin, a couple weeks earlier but, I wasn’t done. I had more. I had much, much more fire. More hatred. More fucking damnation that fed my drive. I held Havoc tightly; cutting the air from his chest as the ref came to.




I won the MATCH! As the ref grabbed my hand and held it high above my head, the Prime belt was placed across my shoulder! I was exhausted! I was spent! BUT… The ROAR from the crowd as they chanted and screamed my name… That was all I needed to get my third wind and show out!

Dreams were wonderful things. How they lie to us. How they show us what we WANT and not what’s REAL.

Was this how it played out? Most certainly not. I had lost that shot, in reality, but in my own drug-induced dreams, I was the winner. My heart hadn’t been in that match. I was focused, with laser precision, on keeping my title in Fight.


Back in REALITY….

Robi looked back to Roscoe, yet spoke to Ryder, ”Have Diesel come get her. She can’t be the one that ends him.” She glanced back to Ryder, ”And for fuck’s sake.. Keep her sedated until Diesel gets here.” She growled as Ryder nodded, rooting through my bag of tricks for the barbiturates…

She then walked over to where Roscoe was tied up and knelt down to get closer to him, ”You see, she can’t be the one to end you. It would destroy her. And I’m ok with taking her rage and anger. I can handle it. I can shoulder it. Unlike any one of the Wolves. And I will end you, Roscoe. What happened in Russia will look like a walk in Disneyland compared to what I’m going to do to you. I’m going to be your worst fucking nightmare. I’m your Harbinger. You thought you were going to beg Dru to end it? Oh no, Darling… You’ll be begging ME to end your pathetic existence by the time I’m done with you.”

She pulled out a metal snipping tool and let it dance along his flesh as she stood up. When she reached his feet, she smiled. Oh, it wasn’t a smile of happiness. No, no. It was a smile of demented pleasure.

”No! Robi! Please! I was… I love Dru!” Roscoe tried to reason with the tall Viking woman before him. He’d known Robi for years, but since she watched me die… She had changed.

”You love Dru?”, she looked back up to him. ”Is that so? Is that why you betrayed her? Why you gave her to Gotti? Is that why you went on the run after what you did?” She laughed darkly at him. “Oh no, Roscoe. You don’t love Dru. I don’t even think you love yourself. Hel, I wonder if you even love your sister.” Poor Zion, the woman had lost so much over the years but losing Roscoe might be the final straw for her. She knew why we were doing this, but at the same time, she didn’t care.

He was her brother. He was my kryptonite.

She laid the snipping tool against his big toe and glanced up to him with a sadistic smile, ”No. I don’t think you do. In fact, I know you don’t. I mean, if you did, you wouldn’t’ve sold out to Gotti. You would’ve told Dru, of ALL people, what was going to happen and take your fucking beating like a man.” Sure, once upon a time, he did love me. But he watched me rise and fall with so many others, I think it finally broke him. My love for Jax had possibly been the tipping point. And I did love Roscoe, but I never saw myself staying with him. He was a good guy, once.

She shook her head slightly, ”No, instead you sold her out. You gave her to Gotti. You forced us to watch her get shot. You forced her to take a bullet for me. But what happened in the end, Roscoe? Who got the killshot on Gotti?”

Before she continued, she quickly snipped his big toe off and caught it in a bowl. Roscoe screamed out in abject horror as he watched his appendage fall into a bowl. Then she moved over to the other toes. Snipping them off. OneByOne.

Only to staunch the bleeding with gauze and an ace bandage. She then stood up and walked over to a table that had been set up in the middle of the room. She set about deboning and denailing the toes. Once that was done, she fileted the small bits of flesh from the toes and carried the bowl over to the grill that she had brought inside.

Dumping the meat into the skillet, she began to cook them up. ”You’re a crazy bitch!” Roscoe screamed out at her as she began to cook the meat. Robi glanced over to him and smiled, ”Yes. Yes, I am. And what do you think a crazy bitch like me is going to do to you? Because of the actions you took. Because of the decisions you made?”

Roscoe passed out cold as Robi continued to cook the meat. Once it was done, she nodded over to Ryder, who had rejoined her, and had him wake Roscoe up. She scraped the meat out of the skillet and back into the bowl, “Open wide.” She taunted him as Roscoe came around.

Now I would have done the same thing. Okay, maybe not the cannibalism part but I most definitely would have dismembered him one digit at a time. But I deserved to do it. What happened to me, what I watched my loved ones go through… I knew how to make Roscoe hurt. However, Robi took things into her own hands.

She knew I’d be angry. She knew I’d be filled with hate for her for making a decision involving me but she also knew I’d always be there for her. Regardless of what fight we were in the middle of.

He began to struggle against his bindings as he knew what was coming next, ”Ohhh, no… Don’t struggle. Your bindings will only get tighter and tighter the more you do.” She knelt down beside him once again and used a fork to stab into the meat.

”Forced Self Cannibalism,” she said in a sing-songy demented type of voice. She reached out, forced his mouth open and she shoved the first “bite” in. ”You’d do well to chew. Else you’ll choke on your own flesh.”

She placed her hand over his mouth so that he would be forced to swallow the meat instead of spitting it out. ”And to think… This is just the beginning of your torture.” Oh, she knew that I had tortured him a great deal before she showed up. But now? Now, Mama is home. And he was about to face his biggest fear.

But, what was his biggest fear? Was Robi going to end Roscoe’s life now… or was she going to keep him hidden away for a while, letting me THINK he’s been taken care of? A situation I had just dealt with recently.

That was the situation which brought me here. To the “now“. My NEW normal. Trusting someone else to finish someone off, that admittedly, I should have done myself. Had I put the bullet in Gotti’s fucking skull… NONE of this would have happened…

—– December 23rd – 25th 2021 —–
—— Krew Towers, New York City, New York—–

Now, last I recalled, I was in Minnesota, torturing the creature that tried to have me killed. But now… I awoke in my home. In my bed. Reaper and Hel both staring at me, concerned. Diesel waltzed into my room and threw open the thick, onyx velvet curtains.

I snarled as the bright sun shone through the glass, assaulting my eyes. My whole body was sore. Stiff. I shaded my eyes with my hand, glaring at my sibling. ”I’m beginning to think Mama dropped you on your fucking head as a baby.” I grumbled, tossing the covers off of me and turning in the bed. My feet touched the cold, wood floors and I quickly slipped them into my fuzzy “paw” slippers.

Forcing myself to stand, I wobbled a bit and Diesel rushed to help me. I growled, shoving him a little. “What the FUCK Diesel?!” I snapped, holding my head. The room was spinning. I weebled a little more, grabbing the doorframe to my closet for balance. He cocked a brow at me as he stuffed the injection kit in his back pocket. Trying to hide the evidence, but even in this state, I was far more observant that people realized.

”Are you fucking kidding me?!” Robi… Bitch had just done me dirty. ”She made you keep me doped, didn’t she?” He nodded his head, pouring a glass of water and handing it to me. I shoved his hand away, spilling the water all over my floor. I didn’t care. I was livid. WHY??? I screamed, recoiling immediately as my head began to throb. Fucking barbituates always made my head funny.

I watched my brother cringe as I yelled, but he stayed in the room regardless. ”She did what’s best, Cill.” I snarled, glaring at him through bloodshot eyes and rampant anger. ”I do not give a FUCK what you all thought was best!” Oh my head, ugh, I was beginning to feel nauseous as I stood there, clinging to the doorframe. Diesel braced for anything as I grabbed my jeans and a shirt. ”I don’t think that’s a good idea, Cill…” He protested, but I ignored him. I growled as I lumbered, very slowly, to my bathroom to wash up. A shower would make me feel more human… Right?

I flipped the lights on in the bathroom and cringed; the bright light burned my eyes and I fought to focus. The mirror across from me, reflected the light but as I tried to center myself, that’s when I saw it.

The bruise on my face. The massive, super painful welt over my jawline, complete with the imprint of her fucking wedding band. Mother…. Fucker…. I snarled as I gently touched the hot black bruise. But when I noticed my arm, my temper went through the roof. Diesel quickly grabbed the door and slammed it shut as I turned to throw a glass bottle at him, screaming all the while about the level of betrayal that had occurred; between him and Robi.

I literally felt like I had been stabbed in the back. Not just the damned arm. Robi took from me the ONE thing I wanted. I wanted to be the one to end him. I wanted, no, I NEEDED to be the one to pull the trigger. I threw the lock on the door and turned the shower on. Per usual, that’s when the floodgates opened.

I wept.

I discarded my robe over the settee, I threw my pajamas into the hamper and cried as I stepped into the shower. I pressed my forehead to the wall, letting the scalding hot waters cascade down my naked frame.




Each and every mark on my body told some story. Ironically, all connected in some way, shape or form. From my time with Gotti, reclaiming my freedom, finding my pack… The stories all formed the galaxy that was who I was. Each star, every moon, all surviving in the same pace and track as the planets revolving around one another. All surrounding who I used to be, as the sun.

My sobs were drowned out by the shower, thankfully, but in that bathroom, I felt absolutely mutilated. Fragmented. My world had exploded the second that first bullet struck me.

And I hadn’t even begun to pick up the pieces…

I swept everything under the rug and closed the vault door behind me as I continued on.

My voice began to crack as I cried, harder, slamming my fists into the shower wall. So much rage! So much sorrow! So much… Everything poured through me, from the heat of hate, to the clash of betrayal and loss, to love to sorrow to mourning. I was still very much a mess in my own head.

Yet, on the outside, I was as put together as ever. I always appeared to be in control of what was around me, but if anyone ever knew the truth… I’d be ruined.

Especially in my wrestling career… I had just begun to climb the ladder of respect within Fight and I didn’t want to slip down a wrung. I wanted to prove to everyone that I was worth it. That I truly deserved my title belt. Something I had literally fought to the death for. I was more proud of the fact that I had survived that fight, than anything. I went into that arena hell-fucking-bent to take this title from Sarah Wolf; and I did.

That was something Apathy wasn’t capable of.

I wasn’t about to let someone come into my arena and take something they don’t deserve.

But, I’ll get to that later…

After my shower, I had dried off and slid, stiffly, into my clothes. Unfortunately, I had family to contend with now. Mama and Henry had begun their invasion and I knew soon all of the Wolves would descend on Krew Towers.

Baton Rouge.

New York City.


Las Vegas.



Each charter had been summoned, and they all had responded. Each Wolf had happily packed a bag and either drove here or in a few cases, flew here. Mama had made very quick work, with Priscilla, in decorating the entire building, including our auto shop and club house. All the while complaining about my mood in Belarusian.

What did she expect from me?

As I looked back on this year, some choices weighed heavily on me, I frowned. So many things happened, and now, I wasn’t sure I acted fairly or in the right light. I mean… I chose violence when I went after Sarah Wolf’s title. My title. But, did I really need to do that? I could have avenged my best friend in so many different ways. Ways that hadn’t involved force-feeding that bitch her teeth… Had I not done so, had I not been the person to hunt her down and end her reign… What would have happened?

Well, I wouldn’t be the reigning Bareknuckle champion, with (technically) two defenses under my belt. I wouldn’t have made Sarah feel what Vhodka and Vincent had felt. I would still be chasing my dream of being a champion, however. Had I not done what I had, when I landed on that cruise ship, I would have been an absolute nobody. Like I was when I came to Fight. Like I am in Project: Honor…

I sat there, at my piano, still thinking. I had been sneaky and crept to my hiding place after my shower. I was dodging Mama, as best I could. She had been on the warpath about everyone coming for Christmas. Especially Robi and Memphis. I could hear her wandering the halls, calling for me. I cringed a bit, as she passed the hidden door to my music room.

No one knew about this place. This was my personal place. My zen space. Sound-proofed. Stocked with all my favorite instruments to play. And a few I was teaching myself to play. The kitties had a hidden entry way, so they didn’t sit at the wall and meow. Alerting my crazy Mama to where I was.

Like I said before, I played the long game.

I was always a few steps ahead.

I had to be.

Especially come Countdown. Apathy was a hell of a match. She was angling for my belt but she’d be going home sad and bloody. This bitch was mine. And I was going to defend it, yet again. I wasn’t about to let her come into this and take what was rightfully mine. No one would.

I AM the Bareknuckle Champion, and I still will be after the New Years Pay-Per-View. Suck it, Apathy!

I reflected on how, on Halloween, my life stopped. My loved ones lives’ changed. The world kept turning, hurtling us further in time. I watched from the shadows as my loved ones fell, wept and tried to go on. I understood their anger, I understood their hesitancy to reconnect with me. But, what they didn’t understand was what this did to me… The life altering experience that happened when I watched them mourn my loss…

How would things have been different if I had reached out?

Contacted Robi?

Called Todrick?

Reached out to Diesel or Mama?

Could I have kept them safe, and kept my secret? Would Gotti’s men have found out and sent Roscoe into hiding? As I dove down this rabbit hole of questions, I had lost track of time completely. My phone howled, it was well past midnight… Priscilla had been calling me; worried.

I sighed, slipping my phone back in my pocket and slowly exited my hide-away. Evidently I needed to make some form of appearance. Whether I wanted to or not.

The next day was Christmas Eve. Mama and some of the other She-Wolves were busy in the kitchen, even having kicked Me out of my own. I had been baking my usual Yule cookies, but when one of the Salem She-Wolves turned me around, physically and pushed me out into the dining room, I gave up. ”Kachanie! Go get dress! We party!” Mama hollered across the open bar, while she spun a hunk of dough in her hands.

I started to protest, claiming I had a match to get ready for, but Henry soon chimed in; “Move it kiddo, you can train Sunday.” He was hauling a mountain of meat out the patio door to the grill. I rolled my eyes and grumbled as I walked towards my bedroom. My home had been overrun. Wolves of all types were here. Out on the patio I could hear the Norway Wolves talking with Ulf; whose accent had begun to fade some, since he’d been here in the states.

Lyric was laughing, Robi and Memphis were happy, Diesel and Cela were lovey.

Honestly, I wanted to hurl.

All I wanted to do was train. I needed to keep my cool in the arena with Apathy this next week. I had absolutely no Christmas spirit in me anymore. All I wanted was blood.

I wanted to PAINT the pit in Elizabeth’s blood; hang her fucking face on a flag poll and show the world why I was The Drakon!

But instead, I was subjected to everyone being in love and showing their affections for one another via a price tag.

I sequestered myself in my room, running the shower to put on the air that I was getting ready; when truthfully, I was plotting my tactics. This was a free-for-all match. So, I assumed, no holds barred. We would have the run of the tower, it seemed, and would be able to fight anywhere and everywhere using anything we could find.

Apathy was fucked.

After some time had passed, Diesel came into my room. ”Cill?” Looking for me, I growled. ”What?” I hissed, obviously not in a good mood. Diesel walked closer to me and shoved the red velvet gown at me that Mama had requested I wear. ”We’re about ready for dinner, are you coming?”

I rolled my eyes. I was still in my pajamas and had done completely nothing with my hair. ”Does it look like I am?” He grabbed my arm and hauled me off the bed. ”You need to drop this shit, Cill.” He barked; Grow up!”

I snarled, latching my hand around his throat and squeezing. ”Who the FUCK are you to tell ME to grow up? Hmm? You still bow down to every single damned female around you!” He head butted me to back me off; we both bled a little bit. But that was all it took.

A full on brawl had erupted in my bedroom, complete with us screaming at one another.

We threw punches at one another, we butted heads together; this was turning into a typical family Christmas. Dysfunctional as fuck.

I busted Diesel’s nose and lip but he tore into my jaw, rebruising what Robi had done the week before, and going for the ribs.

But, that was when the doors slammed open and all we heard was Belarusian swearing before we both were dragged out of the master bedroom by our shirt collars. Mama was pissed!

”It Christmas!” She barked, loudly, ”You two fight?!” She threw both of us against the wall, pinning us there with just her eyes. ”WHY!?” We looked at one another, then back to Mama, rather unsure of if we should answer her… “Is that… Rhetorical?” I offered in a futile attempt at being funny or cute, only to be shoved back, hitting my head against the wall, as she growled at me. Okay… Obviously I fucked up there. I thought, solemnly.

Henry turned the corner and I rolled my eyes, ”Kiddo, what happened?” He watched me and Diesel, I was sure he already knew what happened. Henry wasn’t an idiot. Then he looked at Diesel, eye to eye. “She started it, Dad…”

Fucking narc! I growled and turned to lunge at him, only to be caught again, by Mama. I hissed as she dug her fingers into my shoulder, to hold me still. Diesel went on to explain what had happened. Playing the innocent child. I scowled at him, he wasn’t so Godsdamned innocent.

”Oh sure, play the victim D, like you always did…” Henry’s gaze snapped to my own. His brow furrowed a bit. ”Pip, you cool that attitude, now.” His voice was calm. Stern, but calm. My face held no emotions, I wasn’t sure I had much more to give, lately.

”Kachanie… Mama shamed… Kachanie, we have family.” She sighed, watching me. ”YOU are family… You here now… Why mad?” Was she kidding? Was she seriously asking me why I was angry? She couldn’t be that fucking stupid.

Henry called Cela over to take Diesel out of the parlor, while they stayed with me. I heard it all. How I should be grateful to be here. How I should be thankful I had the family I did. How I should let go of all the things I’m carrying with me. They didn’t understand.

No one would understand.

How could they understand?

I refused to talk to anyone about what I went through. I played it off as everything was fine, but it obviously wasn’t. I was different. Everything about me was different.

The Dru that went into the ocean that day, was not the Dru standing in front of you now.

When Mama and Henry had said their peace, content in scolding their daughter, I was released into my room. I swallowed the hate that was eating me alive, and set about doing exactly what Henry and Mama bid me to do.

Once I had finally cleaned up and left my room, I walked into the living room to a stunning display. Mama and Henry had not only decorated the outside of my building but now, they had done it to the inside of my personal apartment. I scowled.

Priscilla, in a floor length silver gown, was busy adjusting the ornaments on the tree while Cela tended to Diesel’s new wounds. I felt her glare, I ignored it. I walked into the kitchen, and as a few of the She-Wolves tried to usher me out, I barked back at them. This was, after all, my home. No one could evict me from a room here.

Henry and I had a talk, while I was cleaning my own wounds but now seeing him in his dapper suit with Mama in her black and silver gown… I felt very out of place. I felt very… Unwelcome.

Dinner was calm, everyone chatted and enjoyed one another’s company whereas I stayed to myself. Smoking. Drinking.

Mama would shoot a glare at me, but I just shrugged. What did she want? I was here, wasn’t I?

I might not have been my sun-shiny self, or the belle of conversation, but I was physically here. In a chair. Ignoring the food in front of me, and sipping on the DruBrew red wine Cela had designed.

I was just going through the motions in my life. As if I were on auto-pilot. Smiling when necessary. Nodding when appropriate. Applauding when required. I was the perfect fucking creature, hosting an enclave of Wolves, and their significant others.

I was grace.

I was beauty.

I was fire.

I was a LIE!

I was everything I hated in life, all jumbled into one, neat package.

I muddled my way through dinner, through the dessert course Mama had meticulously taught the She-Wolves to bake, even through the after-dinner drink, but I was waning. All I could focus on was the new victim placed in front of me. Fight’s New Years Event, Countdown, was coming and I was near foaming at the mouth to take on Apathy.

We finally retired to the living room, Memphis had taken up a place at the grand piano and was playing some soft music as everyone gathered. Robi, proud of her husband, stood close by him. I stayed away. I kept to the shadows, the outlier of the group. I stood by the row of windows, overlooking the city.

Then the time came.

Time for materialism and bullshit.

As everyone around me exchanged gifts with their partners, I fell back into a solemn thought; What if I had fought harder? I lost Dane. I lost Jax. I lost Mario. I lost anyone I tried to love, but, what if I had tried harder?

None of them made me choose between them and my career. None of them set rules and ultimatums. None of them were unsupportive. Yet, in the end, I was alone.

Yet again.

On Christmas.

While everyone was amid gasps and squeals of joy, I grabbed my cigarettes and walked out of my parlor. Children giggling with delight echoed behind me as I wiped a single tear from my eye. I brought all of this on myself.

I could hear the jubilations inside, and made my heart lurch.

The winds in New York had begun to change; they were colder now. Like I had become. I hadn’t been the same since that damned Charity Cruise, and I doubt I would ever get back to normal.

I shivered softly, against the cold air, as I lit a joint, sighing gently. I looked out over New York and wondered; What did the future hold?

Did it hold me retaining my title in Fight? Furthering my career inside Project: Honor after the miserable showing I had just participated in? I know love was not in the cards for me, so I settled on my business.

Not DruBrew.

Not Krew Towers.

Not even the coffee shop I was opening down in the Bronx.

I was going to throw myself deeper and harder into my wrestling career than I had in 2021.

Leave it all on the mat. Blood. Sweat. Tears. Everything.

I was going to keep my title of Bareknuckle Champion. NO ONE was strong enough, or bad enough to take it away from me, not Austin. Not Apathy. Not even…

I had been lost in thought, shivering against the cold, smoking a joint, that I hadn’t heard the bootfalls creeping up behind me.

”Hey pretty, Mama…”

I gasped as my head nearly snapped my own neck turning, my eyes dilating in response.


—— December 27th 2021 ——-
—— Location Unknown ——

I was a predator. I always have been. I moved like a predator. I thought like a predator. I spoke like a predator. The world was my prey. Every fucking wasted soul on this Godsforsaken planet was a victim, waiting to be skinned by me. Devoured by my rage. Consumed by the all-mighty HATE that flowed through me. The camera followed me as I moved, each step taken with determination, with purpose. My heavy boots crushed the snow and the brambles beneath it. I grinned, those fangs glimmering in the grey-toned sun. Winter had certainly come in full force.

I was the cold. I was the change on the winds. I used to be the “light of the world” if you asked Henry, but in reality, I am the darkness that creeps from beneath your bed. I am the whisper on the winds, calling to you. I am the shiver down your spine. I was the epitome of unsympathetic. I hated damn near everyone, anymore, and I knew it wasn’t going to matter if I destroyed a life.

Miss F had tested my fury when she accepted my bid against Sarah. The whole world saw what I was capable of. They saw the rage. They saw the blood-thirst. But what they also saw was a White Knight go into battle against an evil villain and walk out the victor. I was no White Knight. I was and am just as evil as she was.

Perhaps more so now…

Who the fuck cares about that, though. I was on a rampage! A path was set in front of me, and I was lining the fucking thing with BLOOD and BONES! Next up on the butcher’s block…

”I have looked death in the eyes and spat in her face. Do you realize that? What makes you think that you’re capable of unseating me and taking my title Elizabeth? I know you’re a force to be reckoned with. At least, you were. You haven’t been the same since OPW. A part of you died back there, the killer instinct, the side of you that made you, well, *you*. The part of you that was a real threat.” I shook my head. ”Such a pity. “The Great Apathy”, no wait, what was your banner? Oh yeah, I remember now, “The Femme Icon” How original. Nah, how fucking pathetic! Do you really think anyone wants to be like you? A has-been? A used-to-be? Is that the kind of idol for little girls you want to be? Fucking pitiful.” I look over my shoulder, briefly, smiling. The snow was falling heavier now. As if the storm was mirroring my mood. Maybe it was. Maybe this was kismet.

”I don’t claim to be the best. I don’t claim to be an “icon” of any sort. I do, however, know my fucking worth. I know what’s mine. I know where I belong. I’m the Bareknuckle Champ, and I am one of Fight NYC’s big names. This is my home. MY territory. And I’ve proven that, over and over again. What have you done? What have you accomplished, Lizzie? Have you accomplished anything? Well, anything other than burning out. I remember you in OPW. I remember the power you held over the crowd. But that was it, wasn’t it? You could sure work the people over, rile them up and lay them flat. All bark. No bite.” I grinned, showing off the platinum fangs of mine. Adding a little *chomp chomp* for effect, of course. ”I’m all bark and bite, lady. I’m a fucking Wolf! I’m the Drakon! Now, I’ve watched you. I’ve watched your minions. Since OPW closed… You don’t have shit.” I sighed a bit, frowning purely to mock my opponent. ”You let a group of fucking twatwaffles come in and take over. Damning all of us in the process. You were supposedly the “big dogs” in Fight, Elizabeth, when really, you were one of the puppies under the porch with her tail between her Godsdamned legs!”

Many have tried, Elizabeth, to take this belt from me. To keep me from what is rightfully mine. And each and everyone fucking fell behind me.
Under no circumstance, Lizzie, will you walk out of this pit with my damned title.
Ready to break every bone in your fucking body…? Cuz I am! I will thoroughly enjoy bending you until your bones splinter and break!
Did you honestly think you could stand toe to toe with me? Sure, we never got a chance to fight one another in OPW, maybe back then you could have overpowered me, but now? Not. A. Fucking. Chance.
Elizabeth, your stable used to be called “The Cure” but as it turned out, ya’ll were a virus! I mean, evidently, the NSQ saw fit to cure ya’ll of the disease you had that was believing you were worth anything. Obviously, you weren’t. You used to be, but not anymore. No one stood up for you. No one ever will. Not a single person stood at your side, Lizzie, when the NSQ came in and dissolved every single stable in Fight. Where are your allegiances? I know where mine are…
Remember when you were relevant? Yeah, I don’t really either. Relevance is something completely different than having that killer fire in you. You had something in OPW, but you lost that lovin’ feelin’. Oh well, guess you’re another sad, tired wrestler who thinks they’re hot shit because skeezy men drop trow when they walk in. Yet another in a mass of cliches. Pitiful.”

My voice was strong, each word dripping with poison. I was serious. I was vicious. I was in a mood to kill, honestly. I had always disliked Apathy, and that was never going to change. I wasn’t interested in making friends with her, I was more interested in ENDING her! I had enough of being nice, being complacent in the world of wrestling. I wanted to make a mark. Now, I had done so when I won my title, but I was hell-bent on keeping it. Elizabeth “Apathy” Devereaux was going to end up just another name in my red ledger of those who’d been crushed beneath my boot.

Don’t assume you know me, Lizzie, because you don’t know SHIT about me! Have you seen me fight? Have you spent time in my home? Have you called me “friend”? No, you haven’t!
Every time you think you can step into the pit with me, remember this; I beat your boy, Eoin’s ass to a bloody pulp twice. I ain’t afraid to rip your face off.
Acknowledging the fact, you’re about to lose everything you ever loved, or wanted in life, is the first step to admitting, you’re about to lose, Liz. You just don’t have the *it* factor, Lizzie. You don’t have what it takes to be the Bareknuckle Champ! You never did and you never will!
There’s no real safe way of surviving this match, Lizzie. I’m out for fucking blood!
How could you think, for a split fucking second, you’re on the same level as me? Are you that fucking crazy? Or, are you that damned faded to think you stand a chance against me?”

I laughed a bit, shaking my head as I looked off into the distance. There was nothing around us. Nothing to brace from the ice-cold winds of change. Nothing to halt the snowfall around us. But I was content, I was at home, I was as calm as a frozen lake; but who knew what lurked beneath my surface… No one did. I was a fucking bomb waiting to go off, and someone had lit my fuse.

I had listened to everyone around me, once. Robi. Dane. Diesel. VooDoo. Mario. Damon. Mama. Henry. Everyone. They told me to “bide” my time and “watch” my opponent. They told me to “be nice” to those around me, I might need them someday. Look where that got me? “Death on a Cruise Ship” wasn’t exactly the legacy I was hoping for.

Yeah, I was alive. I survived that shit. Unfortunately, my personality didn’t.

I shed the kindnesses, the love, the good-naturedness that I once was.

All I could see was red.

All I was going to do, to Miss Lizzie, was eviscerate her!

That’s all.

Kudos, though, for sandbagging an entire stable. A whole group for fucking morons looked to YOU as their fearless fucking leader. What did you do? You led them into fucking ruin!
I would suggest, heavily, you think about what you’re about to step into. This is a free-for-all, I could end you with absolutely anything around, in assuredly every fucking area of Fight Tower!
Lizzie, Lizzie… This ain’t your scene. You ain’t worthy. Refer to a moment ago, for the “Why”.
Look, let me spell it out for you. Here are five pieces of advice, straight from me to you:
5. Update your Will.
4. Kiss your loved ones goodbye.
3. Write your last words on your fucking leg.
2. Pray to whatever Gods you fall to.
1. RUN! ….”
Even your death will be as lackluster as your career.
Read between the lines, Lizzie… M. U. R. D. E. R. D. E. A. T. H. K. I. L. L. E. R. This is what I do. This is who I am. I will fucking murder you in that tower. Your death will be today’s newspaper headline and tomorrow’s puppy piss pad. I’m the killer of fucking dreams, Elizabeth!”

Someone put a person in front of me, they knew I’d go full-bore at. I don’t know the meaning of the word “stop” when it comes to defending what was mine. I was going to prove, yet again, why I was the Bareknuckle Champion. Hope Xavier had damned good insurance… He was going to need it by the time I’m through with Apathy.

Just before the video ended, I leaned close to the camera and smirked. My fangs. The thing I was best known for. I was hungry for blood, and these fangs would soon sink deep into the flesh of Apathy. I winked, as the camera started to pan out, and brought that heavy boot down to shove the camera into the snow; causing the whole image to turn BLACK.