Casey. 2
Casey eventually pulled into a parking space at the TPA lot.
“Oh. Casey’s here too.”
“Yeah. She said she wasn’t coming, but…”
“Everyone’s gathering. I can’t be the only one left out.”
Casey’s blunt way of speaking was legendary. Back in freshman year it had earned her plenty of misunderstandings, but the tone was all it was—she never cursed, and her basic manners were actually quite solid. Now, with senior year just ahead, no one batted an eye when she talked like that.
“But Casey, Julia. Have you ever watched wrestling?”
“Well, on TV…”
“Same here.”
In truth, Julia had watched a fair amount of pro wrestling because of Casey. That influence was exactly why she had followed her into the Sports Business major.
“That’s fine. Knowing that much is enough. If you know nothing, you get confused whether it’s real or fake and end up panicking.”
The moment Annabel said it, Casey snapped.
“Fake?! This is a proper entertainment show! Getting hit still hurts the same! It’s way more real than those action movies where they just punch empty air!”
“Ah… okay. Why get so mad over something like that?”
“Hey! If you’re in Sports Business you at least shouldn’t talk like that.”
The whole mess ended only when Julia stepped in to break it up. She told Annabel they would sit separately later and led Casey away.
“Geez. You too.”
“If someone says that in front of me they deserve a beating. Be glad I didn’t hit them.”
“Alright. Drop it. Let’s go buy tickets.”
By the time they reached the box office a long line had already formed.
“Isn’t the show at eight? Why is the line this long already?”
“Right? TPA never gets like this. Is there a big match tonight?”
“Big match?”
They joined the queue and Casey explained to Julia.
“Even if the scale here is small, when popular wrestlers get booked against each other it can turn out like this. For example, if the Dudley Boyz and the Hardy Boyz were wrestling today.”
At the mention of the Hardy Boyz, Julia’s face lit up.
“The Hardy Boyz are here? Jeff Hardy?”
“Yeah. They’re here. The Dudley Boyz too, Adolf Ziggler, Tom Dreamer. You know all those guys, right?”
“What? Adolf Ziggler? We can see him today?”
“I heard he’s rehabbing after an injury. Tom Dreamer too.”
“Ugh. I didn’t even know my favorites were here, and I’m only finding out now…. If I’d known I would’ve come every single week since freshman year.”
Julia spoke as if she were wailing in grief, but Casey just sneered. She would say that and then immediately get hung up on some male tag team—Julia had always been like that since they were kids. Any guy with a good body was fair game. Though she had seemed to stick with Sandy Orton a little longer than most.
“Casey. You gonna watch the dark match?”
“No. What’s the point? Zero nutritional value. Let’s just eat. If we don’t eat now there won’t be time. We’ll starve all the way home.”
“Isn’t there a place selling hot dogs inside?”
“It’ll just be expensive and taste like nothing.”
“I should tell the others too.”
At Julia’s words Casey’s expression hardened and she stopped her cold.
“Don’t. Let them starve or get ripped off. They called it ‘fake,’ so they deserve the proper punishment.”
“Geez. You too…”
After a long wait they finally bought tickets and grabbed a simple dinner at a nearby burger place. They killed a little more time there, then entered around 7:30. Thirty minutes early and the place was already packed solid.
“Ugh! General admission. We’re screwed.”
Julia immediately wailed. Casey, meanwhile, only grew more puzzled.
“What the hell is going on today? They’re not on a scale for this.”
In the end they claimed seats toward the middle of the back. Fortunately it was only a two-thousand-seat venue, so even from there the ring was perfectly clear.
“Lucky. This would still count as WWO A-level seats. No problem watching.”
“Tch. I still wish we could’ve been up front. We shouldn’t have eaten those burgers.”
“You little brat who turns into a complete menace the second you’re hungry!”
“That’s only natural. It would’ve been better to just settle for hot dogs inside.”
“I already told you those are tasteless and overpriced.”
While they waited for the show to start, placards from the opposite side of the crowd caught their eye. Plenty said Selma or Inquisitors, James, Alf, but far more carried other slogans. Starting from “Take me, Charina!” to “I LOVE rina.” and countless others with “Charina” written on them.
Charina? Rina? Who the hell is Charina?
Unable to hold back her curiosity any longer, Casey turned to the heavyset guy sitting next to her.
“Excuse me, sir. I have a question. May I ask?”
The heavyset guy glanced over her and Julia’s faces, then cracked a small smile.
“College students? Gotta be kind to precious female fans. Sure. What’s on your mind?”
“Thank you. Um… is the crowd usually this big at TPA?”
He shook his head.
“No way. Always sparse. Today’s a little special.”
“Why?”
“Charina’s debuting tonight.”
“What? She hasn’t even debuted and already has this many fans?”
Casey pointed at the sea of placards.
“Apparently she was incredible in the dark matches and house shows before the debut. Expectations are sky-high because of that.”
“Still, though. How…”
The heavyset guy seemed to read her mind instantly.
“How can they go this crazy without even knowing her face? Fans took photos at the house shows. Those got shared around. Want me to show you?”
“Yes. Please.”
The kindly heavyset guy immediately pulled up a photo on his phone.
Both Casey and Julia stared at the picture in shock.
“Th… this face is a wrestler?”
“She’s way too pretty.”
“You can tell by the gear. And she’s standing in the ring.”
“You’re right.”
“Anyway, that’s why. And if the rumors are true and her in-ring work is really that good? This place is going to be packed from now on. The Inquisitors and Selma who debuted last week already showed solid ability. They’re getting up there in years, but Adolf Ziggler and Tom Dreamer will be back soon. Especially the Hardy Boyz and Dudley Boyz—I hear they’ve been hitting the gym hard lately.”
The guy walked them through the recent atmosphere at TPA in meticulous detail. Not only Casey but Julia as well felt the fog in their heads clear; they finally grasped the rough flow of things.
“Expectations are pretty high.”
“Damn right. If those kids succeed, ‘Smash Down’ maybe not, but NEXT and the like are a piece of cake.”
Casey couldn’t help laughing at that.
“Pfft. That’s a stretch.”
“This young lady is young and doesn’t know much. Just ten years ago, right here in Orlando, our TPA was more popular than WWO. Things like EAW were scraping the bottom.”
“Yes, yes. I’m sure it was.”
“Just wait and see! We can definitely take down NEXT at August Emergency.”
Casey wanted to fire back that people who said “just wait and see” were never the scary ones, but he had been kind enough to explain everything, so she swallowed the last words and kept them in her stomach.
The first match featured Selma. Her opponent was a wrestler named Isabel. They settled in to watch.
“Casey. To my eyes Selma looks better than Isabel.”
“Right. Her fundamentals are solid. But being a rookie, her selling is still a little awkward.”
One side felt like a brawler all-rounder; the other a high-flyer technician. Whether from lack of practice or mismatched chemistry, the timing between moves was still rough, yet Selma’s quick movement generated enough dynamism to carry the match.
“Rookie Selma just ate her opponent alive.”
“Yeah. She’s twenty-three, right? Give her two years and she’ll be really good.”
At Casey’s words Julia grinned.
“It’s a little funny.”
“Hm? What is?”
“Us. We’re twenty now. Selma’s our older sister.”
“I’m still nineteen.”
“Anyway…”
Just then Selma sprinted toward the ropes, stepped on the middle rope, and launched herself backward. This time the timing clicked perfectly; she snared Isabel’s neck from behind and dropped to the mat.
—Thud—
Thunderous applause and chants of Selma’s name erupted from the crowd.
“Oh! Springboard cutter. She practiced a lot.”
“Corey Rhodes’s move, right?”
“Right. Uncle Corey’s Corey Cutter.”
Even to Casey’s trained eye it looked clean. Rookie or not, young or not—maybe she had been working the indies for a long time.
Then Selma climbed the top rope.
“Finish?”
Selma lightly fixed her messy hair, then leapt high and crashed down with an elbow across Isabel’s collarbone.
—Thud—
The height was impressive for a woman, and the form of both feet, the placement of the free hand—everything lined up beautifully. It was clean enough to remind Casey of Uncle John Michaels, the man who ran the creative team over at NEXT.
Selma hooked one of Isabel’s legs for the cover.
—One—
—Two—
—Three—
—Ding ding ding—
—The winner of this match… Sel~~~ma~~~ G!—
The moment the ring announcer’s voice rang out, the entire audience rose in a standing ovation. Julia jumped to her feet and clapped hard.
“Wow! That unnie is so cool, right?”
“Yeah. She was good.”
The heavyset guy spoke with the pride of someone who had just won himself.
“How about it? Selma’s good, right?”
“Yes. She’s good. Must have trained a long time on the indies.”
“Indies? Pfft. Selma, the Inquisitors, Charina—all of them came out of Team 3D Academy. Graduated about three weeks ago? Kids with completely clean careers.”
The pure-amateur revelation left Casey stunned.
“Really?”
“Ha! What would I gain by lying about something like that? And even looking like this, I…”
He lifted the edge of his jacket. A police badge hung clearly from his belt.
“Even looking like this, I’m a cop. Master Sergeant, Evidence Management Division, Orlando PD.”
“Ah…”
“I don’t deliberately lie. Occupational hazard.”
“Sorry for doubting you.”
“Heh. It’s fine. Happens.”
After that came a thoroughly uninteresting men’s singles match of mediocre skill, followed by a short promo from the current Intercontinental Champion. Then the Inquisitors—the very reason their school friends and Julia had come tonight—made their entrance to a solemn, almost sacred theme.
Just like their debut, they walked out slowly. Women along the aisle screamed and reached out their hands. High-fives would have been the bare minimum of fan service, yet they offered none.
“Tsk tsk. Rookies don’t even know the basics of fan service. Gimmick or not, they could at least do that much.”
The words had barely left her mouth when the two began handing white lilies to children and women. A small scuffle even broke out as people fought to receive one.
“Too bad. I want one too.”
“You want that so badly?”
“It’s a white lily. The flower language is pure love.”
“Pure love?”
“You don’t even know that?”
“Knowing flower languages is weirder.”
Once every flower was gone they climbed into the ring. Their opponents were Team Heritage—guys Casey recognized. Back in WWO they had briefly worked as Team Glorious, a solid mid-carder specialist tag team.
Actually perfect. Watching them against Glorious will tell me exactly how good these two really are.
The match opened with James and Billy locking up. James seized control, sent Billy into the ropes, and cocked a lariat, but Billy ducked under and sailed past. Billy hit the far ropes, rebounded, and came charging back. This time James launched himself into a spinning heel kick that cracked across Billy’s face.
A spinning heel kick—simple jump, reverse roundhouse—yet mistime it and someone gets legitimately kicked. Their chemistry held. Even to her eyes, for three-week rookies it looked damn solid.
Hmm. Selma too, and this guy too. Way better than the videos. Those lazy Dudley uncles… what kind of magic did they pull?