All Of The Day, All Of The Night

 

‘Yame!’ came the booming voice of Shihan Amemiya just as my elbow strike connected with Terry’s stomach, causing him to stagger backwards. ‘Bow!’

The young man returned to a position about five feet from me, and we bowed with an ‘Osu!’ Shihan Amemiya didn’t hesitate. ‘James!’

Another young man, who had been a black belt for only two months, leapt to his feet and stood where Terry had a second ago. Shihan Amemiya looked at us. ‘Bow…’ We did.  ‘Hajime!’

James’ assault was relentless. He almost got me on the back foot with how aggressively he was pushing forward; but I stood my ground. James was big, strong…

… and prone to overextending.

As he launched a big roundhouse kick, I managed a block; the arrested momentum caused him to stagger momentarily, which was all I needed. From the blocking position, I twisted my arm around his leg and proceeded to throw him. He slammed down hard onto the mat, and Shihan Amemiya called ‘Yame!’ once again. I helped James to his feet, and we bowed.

That was eighteen, I thought, two to go.

It wasn’t quite the hundred-man kumite of karate legend, but Shihan Amemiya had decided that the best training he could give me ahead of my big WrestleFest fight was… well, to fight all twenty of the dojo’s black belts. He was right… it was damn good training, but oof.

And I hadn’t yet gone up against…

‘Eddie!’ he boomed. Well. You knew this was coming. Eddie “The Viper” Baker, retired wrestler and tough old bastard, sprang to his feet and stood to face me, a massive grin on his face. Yeah, yeah, enjoy this, old man, it’s not every day you get to fight me when I’m in this state. ‘Hajime!’

I fully expected Eddie to charge in like the others had – but the old bastard was far too canny for that. I could feel him sizing me up – was I too tired to withstand his assault, or did I have hidden reserves like I had deployed against James?

I was screwed if he realized it was the former.

Unfortunately, he seemed to realize it, and with a deepening grin he launched at me with a jump-kick. I dodged – barely – and he landed, immediately going for a leg sweep. I switched stances, withstanding the blow – his instep whacked hard into my shin, and both of us disengaged.

You’ll need to hold out longer than this against MJ, I thought. You know she’s not going to let up. If you’re going to take her, you’ll need to –

Acknowledging this inner dialogue, I sprang forward, launching in a butterfly kick. Eddie was caught unprepared, and just barely managed to get his guard up. I continued my attack, throwing rights and lefts – my form beginning to suffer as fatigue set in. I almost had him against the wall, when…

‘Yame!’ Wow, it had already been two minutes. Time flies when you’re having… fun? Eddie and I bowed to each other, and he returned to the side of the dojo, kneeling down. Shihan Amemiya himself now moved into the center, a grin breaking through his dignified façade. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘you fight me.’

Hoo boy.

The dojo’s master was an older man, in his early fifties. But he had been training since youth, and it showed. He was incredibly fast, his form perfect, and it was all I could do to block his punch-punch-kick combos. I attempted a parry-and-riposte on one of his finishing strikes – but he was too strong, and I was too tired. I bravely attempted a big roundhouse kick, aiming for his temple – but my fatigue made me telegraph the attack, and Shihan Amemiya ruthlessly swept my leg. I fell on my arse, and that was that.

‘Yame!’ he said. We bowed, and the gathered students applauded. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said to me in an undertone. ‘You’ll be good at WrestleFest.’

The class formed the ranks for the end of the training session, and after a brief stretch, we bowed to the master and cleaned the mat.

I went to my duffel and took a deep swig of water from my Stanley cup (yes, yes, I was one of those people, but it’s got great insulation!), then toweled off my face. As I did, I felt a large hand clap on my back. I removed the towel to see Eddie grinning broadly.

‘You did good, kid,’ he said, with actual sincerity. ‘Wasn’t expecting you to bring it like that against me.’

‘Thanks, Eddie,’ I said. ‘Though… well, look, you’ve been in the business longer than I have, you think I’ve got it against MJ this week?’

He shrugged. ‘That’s what the match is for, right? Though, if she’s anything like her dad…’

‘You know Eli?’ I asked.

He nodded. ‘He and I got into it back in the day. First man to block the Snakebite – like father, like daughter, I guess. Tenacious sumbitch.’

‘Who won, when you two fought?’

Eddie grimaced. ‘He did. Been eating at me ever since.’

‘Hey,’ I said with a grin, ‘always time for a second coming of your own, you know.’

He scowled. ‘I’ve tried! “I’m retired, Eddie,”’ he said in an exaggeratedly whiny tone, ‘“Would'ja really be satisfied beatin' up an old man?” Wuss.’

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I’m sure that’s how he sounded.’

‘It was!’ he said. But before he could continue, Shihan Amemiya walked over to us. We both bowed with a loud ‘Osu!’

Our master grinned. ‘Good fighting tonight,’ he said.

‘Osu!’ I said, fighting my instinct to say ‘arigato’ – cultural difference and all that. ‘Hopefully I can get it done against MJ.’

He grinned. ‘I’ll be watching. If you lose – one hundred pushups!’

 ‘Hey!’ I said.

‘Sounds fair to me!’ said Eddie with a grin.

‘Hey, you lost to me, that’s gotta be good for fifty pushups!’ I exclaimed.

‘She’s right,’ said Shihan Amemiya. ‘Go!’

‘Goddamn son of a…’ said Eddie, getting into pushup position. ‘Had to open my big fuckin’ mouth, not like that’s ever caused me any trouble…’

‘Well,’ I said, watching Eddie doing his pushups with no small amount of schadenfreude, ‘if I don’t beat her, it won’t be for lack of motivation. Or training.’ I bowed, and half a second later Shihan Amemiya returned my bow. He clasped my hands and wished me good luck, and I left the dojo and headed home.

Even though the hour was late, the sun was still fairly bright – the difficulties of living in a city that really ought to be one time zone west or really ought to not do Daylight Saving Time, or preferably both.

I mean, there’s something inherently wrong when there’s still light in the sky at 9:30pm and the sun isn’t properly up by 7am!

I didn’t bother calling Dan – I knew that he’d be elbows-deep either in training or media for HVW’s big event in a couple of days’ time; and besides, tomorrow Eris and I would be heading out to Texas to join him. Even Mark had somehow been persuaded to come along; perhaps, at long last, my cousin was beginning to grow fond of my husband?

No, still seemed unlikely. Probably he just wanted to see Mortimer bite it.

… hopefully it was Mortimer that he wanted to see bite it!

Our flight wasn’t super early, but it was early enough that I planned on going to bed pretty much as soon as I got home. It might not even have been wise to do my karate training this late, but Shihan Amemiya had gone out of his way to prepare a special training session for me, it would have been rude not to go.

Regardless, I was looking forward to a hot shower, a quick dinner, an episode of Bones, and an early night. I pulled into the driveway and opened the door…

… to hear what sounded like a very loud party coming from the basement.

Oh bloody hell…

Upon arriving in the basement, I was greeted with a hearty round of cheers from… well, there was no real way to describe this lot other than as a motley crew. Coming up with an alternative term would have been challenging at the best of times but was downright impossible with Girls Girls Girls playing at top volume.

A surprising number of the attendees were in wigs; some blonde, some black, all long. Those in black wigs appeared to mostly be in a kind of emo-adjacent garb, while the blondes were in pastel shades. As I made my way through the crowd, I was bumped into – rather hard - by a drag queen wearing what appeared to be a cosplay of my ring gear.

‘Ooh, sorry, that wasn’t cool,’ she said. Then, eyeing me up and down and scrutinizing, she said ‘Girl, your Cali’s pretty great, but she’s kind of more of a butter-blonde, you’ve got a champagne thing going here.’

I didn’t quite have the wherewithal to reply. As she staggered on – it was only now that I saw the very large and mostly empty martini glass in her hand, I looked around. Eventually my confusion crested into annoyance. ‘Eris!’  

‘Cali!’ exclaimed Eris, hastily chugging a glass of wine that I really hoped wasn’t Dan’s Grange Hermitage. ‘You’re just in time, wasn’t expecting you for another hour or so, but this is great, you’re here in time for the launch.’

‘Launch? Do I want to know?’

‘Tonight,’ they said with a grin, ‘is the climax – ’ raucous cheers ‘ – of a work eight years in the making.’

This can’t be good.

‘It is the final chapter of my ultimate fanfic – Marielledonia: The Second Coming.’  More raucous cheers. ‘Forty-one chapters of pure, unadulterated, character-driven smut so far; and these fine people you see here are celebrating chapter forty-two.’

‘At least it wasn’t sixty-nine,’ I grumbled under my breath.

‘So, as you remember,’ said Eris, ignoring me and addressing the crowd, ‘when last we left our heroines, it was at the end of a glorious marathon of sapphic lovemaking; of course, the world really needed saving from Institute forces, but the A-Moles could wait, as our intrepid lovers decided to go at it…’ Eris gestured to the assembled crowd.

‘One more time! One more time! One more time!’ they chorused, perverse grins on their faces.

‘And… three, two, one!’ Eris pushed “Publish” on their fanfic site, and the crowd cheered. ‘Alright,’ they said, ‘we’re gonna go ahead and give everyone a few minutes to read it, and then we’ll be announcing our readers!’

As the cheers reached a crescendo, I accosted Eris. ‘Readers?’

‘Oh, yeah, we’re going to get one Cali and one MJ to do a reading for the audiobook version,’ they said with a shit-eating grin. ‘I’ll be the narrator, of course, unless Julie Andrews replies to my email in the next ten minutes…’

I caught the eye of a nearby MJ cosplayer, who looked up from their phone and immediately flushed vermillion. ‘Give me that,’ I snarled, snatching their phone and bracing myself for what Eris had created. ‘“‘So,’ purred Caledonia, twirling a finger through Mariella’s ebon locks with her left hand, while her right hand began to gently caress her milky-white breasts, ‘think we have time for a third coming?’ The younger woman laughed. ‘I dunno, girlypop, maybe you should chase me for once.’ The blonde smirked and began a trail of gentle kisses down Mariella’s quivering stomach towards her surging…” - oh for fuck’s sake, I’m happily married!’

‘… any chance you guys are poly…?’ asked the cosplayer tremulously.

‘No!’ I exclaimed. ‘Eris!’ They scurried over. ‘You know we’re flying to Texas in the morning, right?’

‘I know!’ they said defensively. ‘I’ll sleep on the plane!’

‘Why, why, why did you plan a massive party the night before we left?

‘Hey, Dan’s stint in HVW was meant to be one tournament and then home! When I put out the chapter release schedule I didn’t know we’d be going to Texas to watch him fight the murderclown!... hm, new slash pairing?’

‘Absolutely not!’ I exclaimed.

‘… So I’m guessing that the orgy we have tentatively penciled in for 10pm is…’

‘In what universe did you think I’d be okay with that?!’ I exclaimed. This was one of the few times that Eris was really beginning to overstep their bounds.

‘Okay, on that one I was joking,’ they said.

‘Good!’ I snapped. ‘Now get these people out of my house!’

Groans of disappointment. ‘Now, now,’ said Eris to the assembled masses, ‘she’s got a point.’ They looked at me. ‘Can we finish the reading first?’

‘… fine.’

---

I felt perhaps a little more schadenfreude than was quite morally right as I saw Eris dealing with their particularly nasty hangover as we made our way to the Atlanta airport. They wore an oversize pair of extra-dark sunglasses and a large pair of noise-cancelling headphones as we rode down in the Uber, and could only manage to be moderately snarky with the TSA agent, in contrast with their usual obstinate recalcitrance. Things didn’t get better as we got on the plane; even though we were in first class, they looked distinctly uncomfortable.

‘You doing alright there?’ I asked with a grin.

‘Ugh.’

‘Don’t want to talk in case you throw up?’

Grunt.

‘Well, you know what they say: liquor before beer, you’re in the clear; liquor before air travel, feel your insides unravel.’

All they could manage was a low growl before their stomach gave an audible rumble and they winced. God dammit, I can’t even really enjoy these just desserts.

‘Can I get you anything to drink?’ said the beaming flight attendant.

‘I’ll have a prosecco,’ I said. Then, noticing Eris’ mouth firmly shut, I took pity. ‘And my friend here will have a ginger ale. No ice.’

Eris nodded at me and smiled. They hastily typed out a note on their phone. ‘Thanks.’ I nodded. They typed some more. ‘I’m gonna sip this then try and sleep and hope my stomach stops trying to eat itself.’

‘You drank my entire shipment from The Prisoner, I can’t say I’m sympathetic!’ I said.

‘Fair enough,’ was the typed reply.  And with that, Eris took the last sip of their ginger ale, threw on an eye mask, and rolled over to try and sleep.

It was at about that point that I noticed the couple across from me trying to subtly take a selfie with me in the background. I chuckled inwardly; this had happened more and more as CWF had gotten bigger. ‘You know,’ I said, ‘you could just ask for a picture!’

They grinned sheepishly. ‘Sorry,’ said the man, ‘but… you know, some wrestlers are assholes about that.’

‘I give that impression?’ I said, raising my eyebrow.

‘No, but…’

‘Habit?’ I asked.

‘Yeah.’

At that point, the plane began taxiing for takeoff, and the safety demonstration began, so I sat back in my seat. Once we reached cruising altitude, though, I leant across the aisle. ‘Alright, get in here,’ I said. The couple looked delighted. I took the woman’s phone; I was a seasoned hand at fan selfies, and I knew precisely what my best angle was. After a few snaps, I handed the phone back.

‘Thanks,’ said the woman. ‘I’m Clea, by the way, this is Simon.’

‘Caledonia,’ I said.

‘Yes…’ she said awkwardly, ‘… we know.’

‘You guys going to Texas for the HVW show?’ I asked.

‘Nah, visiting family,’ said Simon, ‘but… are there any tickets left?’

‘Not many,’ I said. ‘But hey, should be a good show, HVW usually delivers. And of course you’ve ordered WrestleFest on PPV, right?’ I said, with an exaggeratedly accusatory tone.

‘My brother has,’ said Simon. ‘We’re looking forward to watching you beat MJ – let’s face it, all respect to Gordy and Ripper, but you two are the real main event.’

‘You think I’m gonna win?’ I said. ‘Last I saw, Polymarket had us at exactly 50-50.’

‘Hey, you did it before,’ said Clea.

‘Eight years ago,’ I said, ‘and it took me all I had that time.’

Simon looked reflective for a moment. ‘You ever think that maybe it took her everything she had, and she still came up short?’

I hadn’t. I mean, I doubted that MJ had given me anything less than her very best, but now I thought about it… she didn’t bust out the Van Terminator for nothing. If I understood correctly it was her holdout move. And I still survived it.

‘Who knows?’ I said philosophically.

‘And hey,’ said Simon, ‘the winner of this match has gotta be at least on the shortlist for number one contender, right?’

‘Who knows?’ I said, again. The thought hadn’t struck me, but he wasn’t wrong.

‘Also,’ said Clea, ‘that is Eris behind you, right?’

I looked over my shoulder. Eris had lolled backward, their mouth open, and they were snoring loudly.

‘Magnificent, aren’t they?’ I said.

---

The HVW show was great, as expected. Dan won, and did so using my signature hold – a rather gratifying moment. After the match I went to the backstage area to wait for him. Eris had returned to their hotel room to deposit the Hammer Warning System, and Mark, as I understood it, had made for the nearest bar. I had a rather pleasant conversation with Samara Astrid, who I congratulated on a well-fought match and who in turn wished me luck against MJ.

After a while, Dan came down the corridor, looking thoroughly exhausted. He’d put on a good face for the post-show conference, but adrenaline can only carry you so far, and he’d had a damn hard match against Mortimer. We hugged, and I could feel his weight falling into me; this was a man in dire need of a shower as hot as New Braunfels could supply, and at least twelve hours in bed.

As much as I wanted to talk to him as the HVW driver service carried us back, I could tell that he really just needed some quiet. It had been a very long time since Dan had been a World Champion, a long time since he’d felt the strain that accompanied the glory of being the face of a federation. I could sympathize.

Though mind you… it had been a while for me too.

Sure, I had been World Champion here in CWF fairly recently… although that really depended on how you defined “recently”. Did it count if it was three hundred years in the future?

Regardless.

I had been the Champion in a literal different time and place, and… well, let’s just say that AnHellica wasn’t all that concerned with press conferences or fan events. I never had been able to tell whether the “fans” of 2326 were in fact conscripts, but regardless there never seemed to be a shortage of them.

And, y’know… Gordy King had beaten me for the belt after one week, so even if there had been events, it wasn’t like I had time to feel the strain.

Beside me I felt Dan slowly shifting into sleep; the poor bastard was exhausted. I knew that I should probably prevent him from nodding off, the drive wasn’t that long back to the hotel… but God knew he probably needed the rest.

As the car pulled onto the highway and began accelerating, my mind wandered back to the conversation I’d had on the plane.

The winner of this match has gotta be at least on the shortlist for number one contender, right?

… did I want to be Champion again?

I mean, on the one hand, of course, but… I looked over at Dan, exhausted not just from his match but from the week that preceded it. The Hacker and the Sheriff had had him booked from dawn till dusk – and more often than not after dusk – with promotional events.

It had been eight years since I’d been the World Champion for more than a week. It had been tiring then – granted, at least some of that was because I was fighting a shadow war against the Institute – and I’d been younger.

But then…

I looked briefly at the HVW World Title belt that Dan was clutching to him like a leather-and-metal teddy bear. Even in sleep, now that he had it, now that he had had a true defense against a seasoned contender… despite all the associated exhaustion, I knew that Dan wouldn’t have it any other way.

And neither would I.  

I shook my head. I was getting way ahead of myself. For one thing, this was the speculation of a single fan – accurate though it likely was. For another - and of course this was the real one - there was a pretty big obstacle in the way of that particular ambition.

Y’know? The former two-time World Champion, youngest in history, took everything you had to take her down last time? I told myself.

I was broken out of this line of thought as we pulled into the hotel parking lot. Dan’s manager Sam was waiting for us by the doors, and he had managed to corral the fans to a respectable distance – sensing, perhaps, that Dan was too tired to deal with even the least-intrusive of the Hammerheads. No doubt he would be making it up to them in the morning, but for now Sam ushered us through the lobby and into the elevator.

Dan, to his credit, was talkative as we made our way to the room; though I could feel the exhaustion behind his joviality. As I predicted, he stumbled out of his ring gear, took a twenty-minute shower, and promptly crashed out, falling asleep the second his head touched the pillow. Which was unusual for him – he was normally the resident insomniac of the household – but that was just the kind of week he'd had.

I wasn’t far behind him, and we woke to Sam knocking at the door and informing us that checkout was in half an hour. Dan mumbled something about not being able to be packed up in time, but Sam reassured him that he had it covered.

Perks of being Champion, I guess!

We went down to the hotel restaurant, where they were still serving brunch. Sam, an insightful manager, had ensured that a pair of double-espressos were waiting for us at the table. The present coffee and the prospective Eggs Benedict had a revivifying effect on Dan, and after another doppio had been brought, he spoke. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘One down.’

‘And one to go?’ I said. He shook his head. ‘Three, alas. I’ve got a match Tuesday night in California, then a guest appearance at the UPRISING show in Chicago on Saturday. Title defense against Lex Collins. And of course, gonna come see your big match in Boston!’

I shook my head. ‘So… light schedule then?’

He laughed. ‘What about you?’

‘Back to Atlanta after this to record a promo,’ I said, ‘then a whistle-stop tour of the Northeast, ending up in Boston to promote the show.’

‘I swear, one of these days we’ll have a night at home together,’ he said with a wry grin. ‘But seriously, babe… I know I haven’t been as attentive of a husband as I could have been lately -’

I held up my hand. ‘I’m just happy that both of our careers seem to be doing well at the same time,’ I said. ‘It’s just the unfortunate nature of the business.’

He nodded. ‘But still. This is one of the biggest matches of your career, and I’ve been… kind of absent.’

Just then, our food arrived, and all conversation paused while we heartily dug in – Eggs Benedict for Dan, French toast with bacon and maple syrup for me.

… okay, so it wasn’t the healthiest meal, but I was burning 1500 exercise calories a day!

We were each about halfway through our meals before the conversation resumed. ‘But seriously, babe,’ I said, as though there hadn’t just been a ten-minute pause, ‘don’t sweat not being around. I’ve been training at the dojo, and for moral support, Eris has been… well, Eris, but they’ve been doing a good job at keeping me on track.’

‘I’m sure that you’re getting sick of answering this,’ he said, ‘but seriously – how are you feeling about your match? This is one of the big ones, after all.’

I took a deep breath. ‘I mean… I don’t think there’s any one word that can encapsulate it. As you say, this is a big match for me. MJ’s about the closest thing I have to a long-term rival. But she’s also my friend.’

‘Friendly rivalry is a thing,’ he said.

‘I mean, let’s face it, it’s a heated rivalry,’ I said.

‘Don’t say that around Eris or you’ll inspire their next fanfic,’ he said under his breath. I ignored him.

We returned to our brunch for a few more forkfuls, and I took a sip of my mimosa before continuing. ‘I mean. As helpful as naming my feelings are, it doesn’t change what I need to do. Train hard, get into the fighting headspace… and win.’

He nodded. ‘Do. Or do not.’

‘There is no try,’ I said with a smirk.

---

Our shot shows Caledonia in her promo space: darkened surroundings, an overhead spotlight, the former World Champion dressed in her wrestling gear. Her face is set in a reflective expression, with the hint of a smile.

So here we are at last.

Eight long years later.

You know, MJ, I can’t remember the last time I really, truly looked forward to a wrestling match… there’s a decent chance that it was the last time we fought, really.

Oh, sure, there was last week… but I wasn’t looking forward to fighting Ripper, just to beating him. With you…

She hesitates a moment.

You know, I almost said “I don’t care whether I win or lose.” But that doesn’t quite cover it. Of course I care. I’ve had maybe one match in the last decade that I care about on an equal scale – and in that case, the entire direction of the future, plus the World Title, were on the line.

But it’s different, y’know?

See, of course I wanted to win the Infernalia tournament. Of course I wanted to become the inaugural champion. Of course I put everything I had into it – and I prevailed, against five of the toughest fighters in the history of CWF.

She looks directly into the camera.

But like with Ripper last week… I was motivated by the objective.

And that’s the difference this time around.

See, I put everything I had into that tournament because of the stakes. Who wouldn’t? Save the future, win the World Title… anyone would go all-out in those circumstances. Or at least I’d hope they would.

Our match… there’s no stakes other than bragging rights, not really. We’re not fighting for a title. We’re not fighting for control of an organization. It’s not an apocalyptic battle for the fate of the world.

And yet…

… and yet this match matters as much or more to me than any of those things.

See, “just bragging rights” doesn’t really cover it – but you know that, don’t you, MJ? Hell, you probably know it better than I do. The fact that you lost last time – hell, you’ve said how much it eats at you.

I could offer you some platitude about “well, you were so young”… but to hell with that. Young you might have been, but you were the CWF World Champion. You’d taken on the best this company had to offer: Elisha, Marksman, Jace Valentine. All of them fell before you.

I was just the only one who could take it all the way.

And you know what, MJ?

I could be an arse right now, and taunt you about how I’m sure that eats at you. How it proves that I’m better than you, that nothing’s changed in the intervening almost-decade, that I’ll win again at WrestleFest.

But that’s not the relationship you and I have.

And I can’t even say it with conviction. It’s just not true.

Yeah. I got it done against you eight years ago. But it was down to the wire. You kicked out of the Queen’s Gambit, you blocked the Fall From Grace. I got damn lucky: you made a mistake, and I happened to be in a position to capitalize on it.

She runs a hand through her hair.

You know, as much as you want to prove that you can get it done against me… I want to prove that the first time wasn’t a fluke.

Because I’d be lying to you, lying to myself, if I said that the thought hadn’t been there at the back of my mind all these years. Was I really better than you, or just luckier?

Your loss that night has eaten at you for eight years. But in a way, so has my victory.

She looks thoughtful for a second.

In a weird, twisted way… I’m actually glad neither of us is Champion right now. It would make the one who wasn’t out to be an underdog. And that’s not what this is, is it? No. This is a match eight years in the making, between two badass women of equal skill.

At the end, as with anything else, it’s going to come down to who wants it more.

Who has more to prove. 

Who’s willing to leave more of herself on the canvas.

And right now?

She looks directly into the camera.

I don’t know about you, MJ.

But for my own part…

I don’t plan on leaving anything in reserve.

I’m going to throw all that I have at you.

I’m going to give this battle every follicle of willpower that I have.

And I am going to leave everything in that ring.

Win, lose, or draw… I will have no regrets.

See you in the ring.

Fade.