Wolves loose in New York.

By: Druscilla White

Writing Prompt: No

Date: 8th Jul 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.?

Last week on
The Prophet

This season is shaping up to be, not only the last, but the best season ever! What happened to our heroine? Will Roscoe ever tell Dru his feelings? Will The Prophet attain her dream? Will she fly amongst the angels… or will she swim in the torturous river Styx?

Our Heroine fought her hardest, she climbed to the top of the mountain but unfortunately the Gods saw fit to cut her legs out from under her. She fell. She fell hard. Anubis could have chosen to take her soul, but he spared her. Curious. Do the Gods have more in store for her? Or was this a cosmic cruelty? Had she been forsaken? Or had invoking the Voodoo Father sent her spiraling into the undiscovered?

Everything including the kitchen sink.

The two titans battled it out for what seemed like days. Poor Dru, she almost had him; but Anubis had one last trick. He laid her flat. He went for the cover. And just like that, her dreams came crashing down. All on top of her little broken body.

Rushed to the hospital. Roscoe at her bedside. She melted into that dreamstate; succumbing to the weight of the things around her. On the outside, she was peaceful. But inside, that roaring tempest thrashed and spun her viciously. What was going on?

Would Roscoe lose her? Would she ever wake up? Had her ego been beaten so terribly that it never recovered? What will happen with OPW having closed its doors?

Will our beloved Druscilla continue her fight for supremacy in the ring? Will she find a new fed to call home? Or will she waste away, having lost all will to fight?

Stay Tuned!!!!

The theme music played; The Prophet’s Song by Queen.

“Ah-ah, people of the earth
”Listen to the warning, ” the seer he said
For those who hear and mark my words
Listen to the good plan
And two by two, my human zoo
They’ll be running for to come
Running for to come out of the rain
Oh, flee for your life
Who heed me not let all your treasure make you
Oh, fear for your life
Deceive you not, the fires of hell will take you
Should death await you”


Druscilla White as “The Broken”
Roscoe Valentine as “The Stoic”
Diesel White as “The Brother”
Robi Mitchell as “The Boss”


Memphis Bondurant as “The Chance”

—— George Washington University Hospital ——
—— Washington, D.C. ——-

The nurses ran in and out of her room, her body lay still as if she were entombed, despite the picking and stitching. He was worried. He stayed out in the hall, even having fought to just be there. He watched the doctors, listened to their conversations. They’d been pulling shards of glass from her flesh for over two hours. But what concerned Roscoe the most was, she made no sound. Not a whimper. Not a scream. He was scared he’d lost her.

Please baby, he cried in his thoughts, come back to me.. Please don’t go… He wrung his hands, fighting the urge to deck the next person who walked past him. The more the wrung those hands, the whiter his knuckles became. He’d called Diesel and Robi… both assured him Dru was a fighter, but they didn’t know her the way he did. They hadn’t seen the massacre in that ring. The blood. The torn flesh. The gruesome sounds that floated over the roar of the crowd…

The stomach churning grinds of bone. The gag inducing squelch of flesh ripping. Boots thudding. Bodies slapping one another as their mass crashed against the mat.


She was calm. She was like a living doll. Sally from Nightmare before Christmas. She had been sewn back together. Her stats were normal. No visible damage to her brain on the MRI. The eerie beep of the heart monitor was monotone, disturbingly so. Like a pendulum clicking away, keeping time. The inconsequential tock of seconds that literally meant nothing; a fleeting thing in the grand scheme of things. Roscoe looked at the door as it opened.

Doctor – “We’ve done all we can for her…”

Roscoe stood, looking at the doctor, fear obvious in his eyes. His breath caught in his chest. His heart thudded absurdly loud in his ears. Please Odin.. don’t take her…

Roscoe – “Is she ok?”

The doctor reviewed his chart one last time, pursed his lips slightly then shrugged. Helpful. Very helpful.

Doctor – “Honestly, only time will tell. She should be awake.. I’ve done all I can… Excuse me.”

He touched Roscoe’s shoulder before leaving, as Roscoe slowly walked into Dru’s room. His heart leapt into his chest. He sat in the chair, next to her bed, and touched her hand. It was warm. But, it felt as if she wasn’t there. Tears welled in his eyes.

Roscoe – “Please wake up… Please come back to me…”

His voice was a whisper. They’d taped the broken fingers… Her poor hand was bruised. They’d wrapped her ribs and stitched her lip and abdomen after removing shards of the fluorescent lightbulb. She looked as if she’d been in a violent car wreck; but what they were fully ignorant to, was this was a wrestling match. Willingly Participated. She had known she’d be in pain after the match, but she wasn’t counting on it being this bad. He lowered his head, pressing his forehead gently against her hand. He broke down and cried. He was the strong one. He was the stoic one. But today, he was breaking. Dru looked so broken. So helpless.

Would our heroine survive? Would she wake up, against all the odds stacked against her? Or would this be goodbye for The Prophet?

As the days blended into a blur of nothing, Dru had remained asleep. Her life played for her, like a silent movie. Only, she didn’t want to watch it. There were no concessions, no popcorn, no milk duds or Mr. Pibb Icy. It came in snippets. The fights between her and her parents. The beatings. The hateful words. Moving out and running away. Finding her way in New York. But then came meeting Gotti… her downward spiral. Her first murder. Her first… Then came her arrest. It all flew by. But, the image that stuck in her head was when things flipped around. To when she and Diesel were born…

She watched. The screams. The curse words echoing into the abyss. Doctors? Nurses? Where was this? This wasn’t a hospital… Not one Dru recognized. The language spoken wasn’t English… it seemed familiar but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She walked around the bustle of people, until she came face to face with her own venture from the void. Someone’s vagina. This was very reminiscent of birthing her niece and nephew. Seeing Cela’s coochiemeowmeow face to … well, vagine. The woman, young and stunning, looked exhausted. A vision of Anjelica Huston… Drenched in sweat. And blood. Whoever was the presumed doctor rushed in, pushing the image of Dru into the back. She strained to see above them.

Who was this? Why do I recognize her…?

The woman holding her and now Diesel was not their mother… not the one they knew as their mother anyway… She knew that face, those hands… She knew that voice… It all started to come together. Anne White was not the one studying their faces, whispering softly to the two newborns in Belarusian. This was a revelation. The woman from whom Druscilla’s eyes came, was not the woman who loathed her very existence. The woman holding them was…

Sonuvacock…. Our mother is… What? NO!

The door began to close on this memory, slowly shrinking the figures in front of her. The drawn hallway towered around Dru, whose legs sped faster and faster trying to catch up to the visions.

”Wait!!” ”Come back! PLEASE!”

She yelled, tears caressing her cheeks and spreading the black of her mascara around her eyes, darkening them. She wept for herself, for the tiny soul she once was.

”Don’t leave me…!”

She ran through the open door, chasing the vision of who held her first.. but the distance that separated them grew exponentially until the woman was nothing but a blur. She ran so fast and so hard because the thought of returning to the known crushed her absolutely. She collapsed into her body, weeping into oblivion.

Into the Unknown…

With a heaving gasp, she sat straight up, before cringing in agony, tears staining her face… She writhed. Her body felt foreign to her. It felt weak. She felt weak. Roscoe, wide-eyed and stumbling for words, tried to touch her hand, but Dru pulled away. She was unsure of her surroundings. She’d been in a deep sleep, a coma, for almost a week. The doctors had begun to lose hope of her waking up, let alone waking without a deficit. But when the tears began to flood her pillow, Roscoe’s hope shone brightly.

Roscoe – “Whoa Dru, hey…”

His voice was soothing, but Dru was still feral, still very bewildered. Breathing was hard, her body felt wrong.

”Wha… What happened?”

Her voice was strained, throat dry… Roscoe handed her a small cup of water. He was moving very slowly, very deliberately. So as not to spook her. She was very much a wild animal at that moment.

Roscoe – “Babe… you were in that death match…”

Her eyes searched his face, she vaguely remembered walking to the ring… but not much after that. Her face hurt. She touched her cheek, then felt the tip of a suture touch her hand… She forced herself to stand. Big mistake. Her body began to topple over, as Roscoe grabbed her. She winced hard.

Roscoe – “What do you need?”

What do you want?

She clenched her fist.. The one she was able to, as her right hand was still very tightly taped. She looked at her hands, flipping them over. They weren’t hers, were they? Roscoe grabbed his phone, shot a text to Diesel and Robi, as he tried to keep Druscilla from standing again. She protested, fighting for some semblance of her freedom, but seeing as she was very weak and frail, she ultimately had no choice. She loathed it and needed help. Her throat hurt so badly, she grimaced when she tried to speak. But she had to rely on someone else. The bane to her existence.

“Mirror” She signed to him, her hands shaking as she did. He leaned to the table behind him and grabbed the handheld.

Roscoe – “Now babe… remember… It’s only been like 10 days… you’re still healing…”

She grabbed the mirror, closing her eyes and taking a heavy breath before she dared look.

What looked back at her was a monster. Her face was swollen, probably from the fluids they’d given her, her lip stitched tight. She gasped softly. Her eyes, normally so crystalline blue that they rivaled the ocean… but today, as dull as the sky during a storm. She closed her eyes. Took another breath. Set the mirror down and looked at Roscoe.

”What.. happened?”

He took the mirror from her and told her the whole story. Blow for blow. How she stood against Brandon Moore, surpassing even his expectations. But when Roscoe came down to the final few hits, he trailed off. He could see it bothered her. He touched her hand once more, just as Diesel blew through the door.

Diesel – “Cill… holy fuck…”

He covered his mouth when he saw his sister. She frowned. Roscoe stood, looking from Diesel to Dru. He wasn’t sure what to do. Diesel knelt beside his sister, grabbed her head and pulled her close. He whispered to her, something that would stay between them. He wiped his eyes, he was worried. Deeply worried.

Diesel – “On the bright side.. you’re awake…”

She scowled, pushing him away from her.

”Cute, D. Real cute. What is this? The Rocky Horror Muppet Show? For fucks sake…”

She tried to stand again, wincing as she moved. Roscoe moved to her side but she waved him off.

”I have to get out of here…”

The boys looked at one another, who was going to be the one to tell her…?

Into the Unknown…

What was the news no one wished to tell Druscilla? Has she discovered something about her past? Was our heroine in for the shock of her life? Why had Diesel flown to Washington, D.C.? Was the Prophet nearing her end? Who was the woman Druscilla saw in her vision?

——- Dru’s home ———
———- Baton Rouge, Louisiana ————

She finally returned home.

Her mail had begun to pile up. The cats had been abducted by Ulf and Lyric while she was away, leaving Dru alone. Roscoe had been called away by Zion, Diesel returned to his wife and babies. She threw her bags down, locked the door behind her and sighed. Her answering machine was loaded with reminders from Robi, Zion about vet visits for Reaper and Hel, condolence calls from friends who finally heard about her annulment and the wonderful telemarketing calls.

She erased them all.

What do you want?

Opening her fridge, she grabbed a beer and sighed. Flopping down on the couch, wincing, she started to sift through her mail. Bills. Chain letters. Family letters. But one stuck out. A flyer for FIGHT! NYC. It was stuffed in her duffle, presumably during her last match. It intrigued her.

She grabbed her laptop, sucking in air as she hurt her ribs in the process, and began to research the flyer. New wrestling promotion. It vaguely seemed familiar. New York? But why? It was all so foreign. Absolutely unknown. Like a blank canvas. Much like her.

Into the Unknown…

She pushed her laptop off her, slowly stood and walked to her window. She looked outside. It was dreary. Rainy. Cloudy. Almost as if the weather mirrored her emotions. How she felt. Dru was sorrowful. That spark she was known for, was dull. She sighed.

She felt alone. Cold. She wrapped her arms around herself, while she lingered, forlornly, at the window. Louisiana was home, but for some reason it began to feel unnatural to her.

”There has to be more out there than just this…”

She whispered to herself, turning slowly to head into the kitchen. Clippings were tacked to the fridge; her current wrestling accolades, articles about her, DruBrew, and the MC. All laminated. Some framed. She took a swig of the beer, sighing gently as she leaned against the countertop, gingerly, holding her ribs. She took one clipping off the fridge, her biggest victory in Fade2Black, the image that stared back at her, though grainy, showed the brute she was. Sweat-covered and fierce. The article wrote of her rung by rung climb to new heights as she entered the wrestling arena. A freshman. A low-man on the totem pole, but soon she garnered fame.

She placed it back on the fridge looking at the picture of Danny. She could hear his voice cheering her on. It made a smile break her morose mood. The stitches pulled taut hurt, but she ignored the pain. For this moment, she felt half-way normal.

But that came crashing down when she heard the thud on her doorstep. She glanced at the clock. 5 a.m. on the dot. Newspaper. She made her way to the door, opened it and grabbed the paper. The headline made her grin.

”New York Mobster Missing, Presumed Dead.”

She chuckled darkly, the article had no idea, no earthly idea of what could have happened or who took John Gotti. If the reporters knew Gotti had been beaten, tortured and eventually fed to the gators, Dru would be in prison. Again. Thankfully, the bayou keeps her secrets. Especially for Dru. She had a kinship with the bayou; almost familial. As if her blood flowed and ebbed with the bayou.

She flipped the paper over and her eyes widened. An ad for Fight! NYC sprawled out in front of her.

””If you are a fighter, you must fight…” Well, that’s an odd slogan. Catchy but odd.”

What was this? Fate? Serendipity?

Into the Unknown…

She mused, sipping her beer more. Her mind began to wander to places it never had before…

Maybe it’s MMA, just an all out fist-fest… Her brain was a wonderful place to be, so vivid, so bright… Brawl until no one’s left. Or maybe, maybe it’s a cage fight. Barbwire everywhere. Broken glass for the mat.. That would be.. Different. Could be worse, could have to listen to Brandon Moore dredge on and on about being the best and the most bloody killer since God himself rained down vengeance. Ugh, windbag. No, I can do better than that. Imagine having JMont on a PA system, confessing his undying love for… Whatever skeeze of the moment. Fuck… I’d blow my own brains out then.

What if, Tom Cruise, thinking he’s some sort of aged Rock God, decided to play a show at Hearst Tower and Vhodka Marie decided she wanted to be a backup dancer… Fucking hell… I scared myself with that one.

She shuddered, almost knocking her beer off the countertop. She glanced at the clock again taking a sip of her now flat and warm beer. She grimaced. Eleven a.m.?? How the hell did that much time zip by? She emptied the rest of the beer into the sink and limped towards her bedroom. She needed to get stuff together, she had things to do today.

But first, a shower.

Foregoing the obligatory nudity scene…

Into the Unknown…
What do you want?

Was Druscilla feeling like herself? Had she begun to doubt herself? Had she really disposed of John Gotti? Had she gotten the information she wanted? Was our heroine truly a killer? What happened to Roscoe? What was in store for The Prophet now?

———- Wolves of Óðinn club house ————-
——— Baton Rouge, Louisiana ———-

”Looks like I get to rent an apartment in New York.”

She scoffed, nudging Robi as the two went over club matters. The impending charity run. Their careers. Who still owed dues. The current prospects and their records. Dru was a stickler for keeping things filed and in their place. One thing Robi loved about her.

Robi – “Or you could move there.. permanently.”

Dru arched a brow.

”Hilarious Robs. You know I can’t leave Louisiana. I’ve got the club here.”

She laughed, finishing up counting the funds for the month. Robi cleared her throat.

Robi – “No Dru. Seriously. Move there. You do, we open a New York chapter.”

“And who would we bring in as New York President?”

Robi took her “really” stance, crossing her arms over her chest. She lay one ankle over the other. This was Robi’s serious face. As if her face wasn’t always serious…

Robi – “You.”

Into the Unknown…

Dru hushed. She looked around the room, this had to be a joke. She waited for Diesel or Widow to walk on in laughing. But no one came. No cameras. No balloons. No confetti. Just a sober air to the atmosphere. Almost oppressively so.

Robi – “Seriously Dru, you’re perfect for it. You were never a Louisiana-lifer. That’s me. I’m the Original Wolf. You’re made for the big city. You’d be a damned fine chapter president. Hell, Druscilla, you know everything there is to know. I’ve given you the tools you need, now it’s your turn.”

What do you want?

Dru fell back against the hand carved table and sighed heavily. This was a shock. Especially coming from Robi. It also showed how much respect the woman had for her, and how much love. Dru had never expected to ever usurp the presidency from Robi, she was content to stay in the background, allow Shanna or Hadlee to take the gavel but.. Robi wanted to see Dru succeed. Offering her the chance of starting her own chapter of the MC was monumental.

Dru stumbled for words. Her face was paler than usual, she had no way of expressing what she felt inside at this moment.

Robi – “Just do it. Make the move. You’ve got big enough balls to do this Druscilla.”

Into the Unknown…

Robi chuckled, patting her friend on the shoulder. Dru looked down at the Vice President patch on her cut, losing her Louisiana rocker broke her heart but maybe Robi was right. Maybe Dru was better suited for New York. But what about her family?

”What about you guys? I can’t cut and run. I swore my life to the Wolves here, in Baton Rouge.”

Robi pursed her lips for a second or two before she moved from the table over to their safe. She rifled through some papers before she found what she had been looking for. Dru’s paperwork. Dru’s prison record.

Robi – “Look at this Dru, and look hard. You swore your life to the Wolves, and you’ll still uphold that oath even in New York. But this is your chance. Don’t you want to step out of the shadows?”

Dru took her files, her mugshot the first thing she spied. She cringed. 90’s/00’s emo hair.. Those dread’s were not her look back then.

Robi – “Druscilla, go. Open your chapter. We’ll always be tied together. Wolves run in packs. And packs unite when necessary.”

Dru began to say something but Robi cut her off.

Robi – “Dru, step into the unknown. Dare to be different. Be unprecedented. Discover what you are fully capable of.”

Dru nodded, grabbing her phone from her pocket. Robi was right. Dru hugged her friend before walking out of the backroom, she made a call.

”Hey….. So I’m coming to New York, mind if I flop on your couch for a bit?”

Into the Unknown…

———– New York City, New York ———-

She woke that morning, the sun glaring through the screen. Warstein let her stay in his place while she went home hunting. But she wasn’t used to the sirens and yelling anymore. New York had been her home, once upon a time, but it had been years. The smog and the smell of garbage was not a pleasant thing. But given time, she’d readjust.

Her phone buzzed with messages as she smelled coffee brewing. Warstein’s coffee contraption was fantastic with making coffee, but Dru wasn’t used to that type of tech. Cappuccinos were rather frilly for her taste. But this was his home, not hers. Since she’d been in town, she’d discovered many things about Warstein. His fetish room was one she was not expecting, but again, to each his own.

”I need to remember to thank Shawnie for this…”

However, the nude photo of James Raven on the bedside table was a bit worrisome. She knew he and Shawn were close but apparently she had been in the dark as to How close…

She laughed, sipping that hot cappuccino, and sifting through messages. One stood out.

The Donald – “Ms. White, I saw your offer. Intriguing. Fascinating. Let’s make a deal over lunch.”

Her face showed her absolute disgust but the property was perfect. Who wouldn’t want to own Trump International Hotel and Tower? Central Park was stunning. The apartments are gorgeous, but heavily over priced. That would be my first order. Lowering the rent. And a hotel? Perfect business to fund The Wolves… Well, the first business. She mused, still thumbing through her messages. One from Robi, she shot a text back to her before continuing with her sorting. Trump had left several messages. Probably my tits he’d rather do business with… Even in her own head, the vile wretch elicited pure hate from her. Make him wait. The longer the better. He’ll come down in price. They always do. A Trump property for a steal. I’ll need a better name for the building. Trump has got to go, no cheeto allowed.

She left the kitchen after placing her coffee cup in the sink. It was time to shower. She had a war to win. Most businessmen who dealt with her were never the same after. And Trump was an easy target. Chauvinistic pigs always were.

Into the Unknown…

Once her makeup had been applied, war paint, she gathered her purse. For the moment, her cut lay on Shawn’s bed. This was one of the few times she ever left without it. And the reason? She needed to appear to be the upper echelon. Above even them. Supreme to even Trump. For right now, she was a businesswoman, nothing more. But she was so much more, so very much more. If they knew who and what she was? They would shit themselves. She wanted respect, not fear. Fear came when the ink had dried. New Yorkers feared what they didn’t know.

She was new. Like a toy from the store. And she knew exactly how to work that angle. Black slacks. Stilettos. A soft pink blouse covered the black lace bra. Matching black blazer was buttoned at the waist. Her hair, a natural black, was curled and hair sprayed into place. Her tattoos were covered. What made Dru unconventional was masked. She looked normal. Gorgeous, but normal. Her trailblazing attitude was out in full force however. And she was going to leave stiletto prints all over the damned town. Starting with The Donald himself.

———— Trump Hotel ————

The click over her heels over the marbled floor carried her closer to the devil. She saw the lights radiate off his cheeto-dust colored face before anything else. Hell, his hair hadn’t changed since the 80’s. The man was nothing if not a monument to his own ineptitude. She felt the eyes of the patrons on her immediately. Who would meet this man for a lunch date? She feigned a smile. Thankfully her wounds from the previous match had begun to fade away into a memory. Otherwise, this would be an absolutely excruciating experience. Fuck that, it actually was causing her pain. She had to play nice with someone she wanted to see burned alive and buried in cement.

”Mr. Trump!”

Her voice came off as cheery. She extended her right hand to him, but he waved it off and pulled her into a hug. She grimaced. His cologne. His aftershave. His touch… She went rigid. She felt his hand drop daringly low to her ass as she patted his face stiffly. This was as unpleasant as could be. When she finally managed to pull away, she could see the glint of happiness in his eye. She shuddered softly. On the outside, Dru was sugar and spice; everything he could want. But on the inside she was screaming. Already planning on bathing in bleach. Possibly acid.

Trump ushered her to his table. His beloved table 72. Letting her sit down, he finally allowed his girthy frame to rest in a chair. She could hear it groan. She watched as two waiters scurried to the table. Menus. Drink orders.

”Stoli on the rocks, please.”

Trump smiled.

The Donald – “My usual.”

He waved the men off and leered at her. Almost undressing her. Exactly what she wanted.

”Now, Mr. Trump. I see you’ve gone over my offer.”

He nodded, licking his lower lip. She lowered her face, to meet his eyes, in turn pulling them up from her breasts.

The Donald – “Yes, yes Ms. White I have. Call me Donald, please.”

He appeared sincere, almost charming. But it was a falsehood. She knew who he really was. She smiled. She’d cleaned up more than a few messes for this man, and he had no fucking clue. Thanking the waiter for her drink when it arrived. She took a sip before setting the glass down on the table.

”Now, tell me, Donald. What have you decided?”

The Donald – “This should really wait until after we’ve eaten Druscilla.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. She hadn’t told him to speak so formally. Typical pig. Take what he wants. She smiled.

”I’d really rather we get all this bad karma out before we eat… Donald.”

She touched his hand, inside her flesh crawled but on the outside, she was perfect. He looked down then back at her and smiled.

The Donald – “I suppose you’re right. Well. I’ve looked over the proposal and I’m afraid it’s a no Ms. White.”

Into the Unknown…
What do you want?

She knew he’d say that. She took a file from her purse and slid it to him on the sly.

”The choice is yours, but, if you look at the first page in this brief, you’ll see my counter response.”

Dodgy-eyed he took the file and pulled the top back to read the first few sentences. His eyes became the size of dinner plates. That orange-stained mouth dropped open. She smiled. Leaned in a little closer and whispered into his ear.

”Now, I’ve held on to this for many, many years. No one knows except you, me and the little birdie who introduced us. But that birdie won’t sing anymore.”

She grinned wider, flashing those platinum fangs of hers.

”My gators enjoyed that meal. Now. If you lower your walls and accept my offer, this stays between us. Say no and the tribune has a new headline tomorrow.”

He stuttered, placing the file back down on the table. The waiter returned for their food order, Dru had them double his usual. Her eyes never left his. She was vicious.

”Am I making myself clear?”

The Donald – “C..Crystal. Ms. White.. You’ve a deal. Trump International Hotel and Tower… it’s… it’s yours…”

She patted his cheek. Placing the folder back into her purse she smiled.

”Now we can enjoy our meal. I’ll have my lawyers fax the terms to your office today. Let’s get this signed before nightfall, shall we?”

She grinned but his skin began to lose all color, if that were possible. He was being blackmailed. And had just lost one of his more lucrative properties. The big man, always so boastful, had been beaten by a woman. One he knew to be more deadly than even he.

Into the Unknown…
What do you want?

A man a table over from them raised his glass to Dru, having sent a second of her drink to her table. She grinned at the prospect of the unfamiliar. She picked up the drink, patted Trump on the cheek once more and excused herself. The orange blob was speechless still. Dru made her way to the other table and sat down across from the man.

Cause you’ve been keeping me awake…

A handsome man.

”Pretty ballsy to send a lady a drink nowadays.”

She teased, but the man leaned forward, took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles softly.

Casanova – “Ballsier still to accept.”

She nodded.


He was a smooth operator. Long dark hair. The light scruff on his face caught her interest. But it was those dark eyes, those sympathetic brown eyes that looked as if they’d seen more than their fair share of pains, that kept her sitting there. He drew her in. She held his gaze. It was as if the whole world dimmed.

Casanova – “I’m Memphis, Memphis Bondurant… and you’re… absolutely stunning.”

She smiled, blushing softly. She tucked a lock of her black hair behind her ear absentmindedly, and took a sip of her drink.

”I’m Druscilla…”

The duo spent the day talking. The world disappeared around them. Their stories, though similar, were so different. He loved and lost. She lost. He came from money. She came from poverty. He went to the best schools. She finished highschool via mail. College from prison. Dru left many details out of her conversation with Mr. Bondurant but she was bursting to share so many things with him.

Perhaps the unknown wasn’t something to fear, but to adventure.

Memphis – “You wouldn’t happen to be related to a Diesel White by any chance?”

Are you out there?

She bristled slightly. Was this the boom?

”Yes… he’s my…”

But before the word could leave her mouth, Memphis chortled loudly and touched her hand again.

Memphis – “We were in the same unit! I met D in basic!”

Dru, puzzled at how truly small the world was, fought away the previous doubts and scoffed softly before she grinned.

”Well, I’ll be damned!”

She laughed now, sipping the last of her Stoli.

Memphis – “Let me put it this way, D saved my ass. More times than I care to admit. If you’re even a sprinkle like him, girl.. I’d follow you into the depths of Hell and walk through fire for you.”

Do you know me?

She blushed. Granted, she wasn’t looking for love but maybe this was something other than? Maybe this was something even more special? Even more rare? Perhaps this was something known simply as “family”.

”Call me later, maybe see where this weird thing goes.”

As they parted ways, she gave him her cell number. He gave her a kiss.

But in a flash, everything changed. It had to. Change was the inevitable sibling to the unknown.

There was an Alpha in New York.

Can you feel me?

Who was this? Friend or foe? Should our heroine trust Memphis? Had she already forgotten Roscoe? Was Druscilla going back to her old life? Blackmail. Intrigue. Sex. Murder. Wrestling. What did she have on Trump that startled him?

————- DruKrew Tower & Suites ————
——— Penthouse Floor ————
——— Central Park ———-

She stood on her balcony, looking out over Central Park. While her Wolves had claimed their rooms, and some had begun to move in, others were still packing for the big move. Dru had been busy. Setting up deals, lowering the rent on the apartments not taken by the Wolves, and adjusting the rates for the hotel, as well as establishing her charter. The paperwork was never ending. But she bore it with style.

Her own move had gone off without a hitch. Well, not a major one. She hadn’t planned on so much crying. She’d said her goodbyes to the mother chapter, and cried with most of the members. She’d spent a couple of days out on her beloved bayou, her soul wept. She didn’t want to leave, but she knew things needed to change. Her career heavily depended on change.

Her suite was massive. The top floor belonged to Dru. Her home. Her office. Her gym. The cats even had their own space. She accomplished the impossible in an astounding amount of time. What would normally take months to years, Dru managed in under 2 weeks. She was on a mission.

Silken black robe sparkled in the sunlight as she turned, returning to the apartment, sipping her morning coffee. Her phone rang. Voicemail clicked on. She screened most if not all of her calls.

Cela – “We’ll be in town soon, Cilla. Kisses.”

The machine clicked off. Dru smiled. Two more Packmates accounted for. Leaning against the black marble countertop, she pushed the answering machine’s button, and began to replay the messages.

Gio – “Be in town next week, D. See you then Prez.”

Chiana – “Dru, you know we’re down. Thank you for bringing us, and the apartment. Love you girl.”

Roscoe – “Hey babe, you ask, I’m comin’. Be there before your show.”

Diesel – “Hey Cill, it’s Diesel… Hit me up when you get this, I know you’ve been digging into that… thing we talked about. Gimme an update.”

Shanna & Hadlee – “We’ll miss you!!!”

Zion – “Clinic is handed over, the boys and I truck out tonight. Kisses D.”

She smiled hearing her friend’s voice. Shocked the shit out of Dru when she offered to be a prospect. Especially given her brother was a patched member. She refilled her coffee cup, a normal Keurig k-cup machine, and sat on one of the barstools. A notebook in front of her. Long claws helped pick up the pen, as she began to jot down some notes. But as she wrote, her messages continued to play. Until one.

Robi – “Dru, you’re probably moving and unpacking right now, I don’t want to harsh your mellow. But, I love you. Dearly. I’m so proud of you, you have no idea. You became so much more to me than a cellmate, than a best friend. You became like my sister. You were a second mother to my girls. The Ying to my Yang. You put up with me at my worst, and cheered for me at my best. I’m not able to make it up there for your first match, and I am so, so sorry. We’re all rooting for you, Prophet. Every single one of us.”

As Robi’s voice trailed off, the mournful wail of wolves rose, mixed with the yipping howls of the MC. The whole charter. She could pick their voices out one by one. Tears welled in her eyes as each member cheered for her, spoke their words of wisdom and told her they missed her. Her heart. It hurt with all the love she felt in this moment. As the club went back to their rowdy cheering and howling, Robi came back on;

Robi – “Now you see, Dru. We know you can do this. We all believe in you. We’ve all seen what you’re capable of, Druscilla. You’re more than even you realize. Now, I love you. You got this. Kick the shit out of that town! I’ll visit when I get some time, girl.”

Kick the shit out of the town she would. With the support of the Pack, Dru could conquer absolutely anything. Something Fight! NYC was about to feel. These stiletto boots were made for walking, and that’s just what she’d do.

———- Wolves of Óðinn Clubhouse ——-
—— New York, New York ——

The doors had opened, prospects and patched members alike meandered around the building.
Dru, with her cut worn proudly, smiled beside the pool table. She leaned against it, looking out over what she’d accomplished. Memphis strolled up to her, smiling brightly. He grabbed her and spun her around showing off those rockers on her leather cut. ‘New York’ emblazoned on the back where Louisiana once had been sewn. And the bright, new ‘President’ patch stitched over her heart.

Memphis – “When’s your girl hit town?”

Referring to her chosen Vice President.

”She’ll be here in a few days. That’s a lot to pack up and haul up here.”

She smiled again. She lit a joint, sighing heavily. It had been a lot of work. Deciding what she needed to do. Finding a place to live. The business she had chosen. And even starting her own chapter of the Wolves of Óðinn. Patching certain members she’d known for years, acquiring their club house and making sure it was up to code. And even setting up the front for their business. How Robi did it alone, she’d never know.

The remainder of her Pack would move to New York in the coming days and weeks. From her Beta to her Sergeant at Arms, to her Keeper of the Laws and their Bookkeeper. Patched members to prospects.

Memphis nodded, took a drag off her joint and meandered back to the jukebox. His own cut, well-worn, bore the Wolves rocker. He was a full patch. Dru trusted Diesel’s judgement, Memphis was loyal and stood beside her brother through war. That settled Memphis’ place in the ranks. Dru looked out over her club and smiled.

Wolf-Pack #1 – “Hey boss, when’s your show?”

Dru exhaled the drag she’d just taken and sat up.

”Next week. They want to see a fighter fight, they’ll see a fighter steamroll them. Look what I’ve accomplished? I survived a death match against Brandon Moore. I fought Miss Michelle and wiped the floor with her. His precious wifey. Her bastards stood no chance against my Wolves.”

She laughed, grabbing a pool stick from the wall. Chalk in her left hand was squeaky-squeaky’d over the cue.

”They wanted the Hellcat, they got her. They can’t cage me. They’re the ones who unleashed the beast in me.”

Wolf-Pack #2 – “What about Warstein?”

She smiled, softly.

”I love him, but he won’t stand a chance. Shawnie is a good guy, but in that ring, good guy or not, I’ll fuck him up. Same goes for Austin. Goodluck on his impending wedding but once we hit that arena… all bets are off.”

One of the honey’s racked the balls and stepped away from the table. Dru bent over, sizing up her shot.

”Vincent and Vhodka Black… Yeah, I heard about that. Love her. But I’ll fuck her mug up. Funyuns forever, bro. I dare say she’s one of my besties. Outside those ropes. Inside? She’ll bleed.”

Dru laughed softly, still lining up her shot.

”Vhodka is owed an ass-whupping. Love my girl, but not only did she tie the knot without telling me, but we have a score to settle from a while back.”

I’m a Hellcat, baby!

She wiggled a little, settling into her stance. Memphis sat at the bar, sipping a beer. All DruBrew. Her eyes cast upwards, right at the photo above the bar. The Wolves of Louisiana. All of them. Robi. Hadlee. Shanna. And Dru. The mother chapter. She winked at the photo of Robi and the cue slid back as she’d lined the perfect shot.

As the cue forced its way back through her hold, it struck the ball, sending the others scattering across the table. She sunk the 3. She grinned. Pool was not her game, but she did enjoy playing.

”OPW may be gone, but it lives in my heart. And FIGHT! NYC will see they took on the Queen when I walk through their doors. I’m here to stay. That ring is the heart of who I am. The crowd, my blood. I’m a Wolf through and through, but in there? I’m a fucking Hellcat waiting to shred any who stand toe to toe with me.”

Wolf-Pack #2 – “Yeah! Hellcat!”

Wolf-Pack All – “Yeah Hellcat!”

Wolf-Pack #3 – “We’ll all be there Prez!”

Wolf-Pack #1 – “Fuck ‘em up Mama Wolf!”

Dru grinned, her Pack. Her own Pack. She looked back to the photo of the Mother chapter and winked to the image of Robi again.

”This is for you, Robs!”

She raised her bottle, following the clink and clanking of other bottles as they cheered her on into the night. Because the next time The Hellcat stomped the New York pavement, she’d be busting in the doors of the Hearst building. The Wolves of Óðinn are coming.

But for now, the Wolves let loose. It was time to party! Brand new chapter, brand new president, brand new digs. The Alpha had worked miracles, and she did so not for herself but the people who chose to follow her. The Pack who called her Alpha. The Wolves were family. They were her family. And she was determined to give them the best life had to offer.

They earned their keep. Trusted her. They put their faith in her, and she would never lead them astray. They did their work. They had their play time. When work went serious, she was right there with them. And in turn they were always behind her.

She leaned back on the pool table, the boisterous cheers and jeers from her Pack rang throughout the building. She smiled. Looking around at the photos all over the walls. From members’ mugshots to family photos to the framed articles about Dru herself. A bearskin rug covered some of the floor in the central part of the clubhouse. An inside joke from her boys.

The Honey’s kept the beers cold and the ashtrays emptied. Dru nodded to one of them, who offered to refill Dru’s glass. The woman, tall, petite, dark haired, strode across the room to trade beer bottles with the Wolves Alpha. Dru smiled.

”You didn’t need to come over here, I’d have made my way there eventually.”

Dru chuckled. The Honey shrugged, touched Dru’s cheek and winked before she turned to walk away. Dru licked her lip as the woman sauntered off. She was a fine looking lady. But, Dru was determined to keep lust and romance on the back burner. She needed to focus. She wanted to hit the ground running.

Acquire and move into new property. Check.

Find a clubhouse. Check.

Start her chapter. Check.

Conquer the wrestling world. Partial check. She had definitely made some noise in the wrestling arena, but she needed more. She needed to truly prove who she was. Even if at the moment, she had no real clue who she was. That revelation from her coma still haunted her. How, for all these years, had that woman hid that from her? Why?

Was she not wanted? Then why come back into her life?

Was she forcefully taken away?

Dru was determined to find out why, but the ball was now in the other woman’s court. Dru had made the first move on the chessboard of life; Check.

”Now it’s up to Mama… So many questions, where do I begin?”

She looked out the club house windows, sighing softly as she flipped the switch on the camera.

It all faded to…


What an episode! Intrigue. A drastic choice. Being pushed into the light. A chance meeting. Possible romance. How will our heroine sort out that sordid past? Does she know the truth? Or is she being set up? Should she trust the man known as “Casanova”, or would she be safer keeping him at arms length?

What will happen next week?


A new day. A new city. A new MC. A new, budding career. A brand new fed.

FIGHT! NYC presents…

Druscilla White as…. “The Prophet”