The Only Exception

‘I QUIT, YOU FUCKING BITCH!’ boomed the voice over the massive speaker system. The assembled crowd cheered, as if they hadn’t seen it live not three hours previously.

I had known that a party – whether victory or consolation – was inevitable after Crossing Lines. I had mixed feelings on the subject, and not just because I had been through an absolutely hellacious match.

On the one hand, of bloody course I wanted to celebrate! I had once again climbed to the pinnacle of the profession, dispatching the world’s whiniest man to regain the CWF World Championship. The Ripper had done what no other champion in CWF had ever done, and vocally given up his title; had quit as I choked the life from him. And I had arguably been the underdog in the fight; the stipulation was one that Ripper doubtlessly relished (until he didn’t). It was worth celebrating.

On the other hand… it hadn’t been that long since the last time we’d celebrated almost exactly this. I, the scrappy underdog, had overcome the odds and captured the top prize. We’d celebrated.

… and then I had unceremoniously lost the belt to Gordy King on the very next show.

Hence my mixed feelings. Having another victory party – in the same building no less, albeit separated by three centuries – felt hubristic.

Particularly when, about halfway up to York, I received the text message letting me know my next opponent.

Well, I say “opponent”, singular…

Mia Rayne and her Menagerie.

If the Highlander family were anathema to Ripper, the one group that he just couldn’t seem to keep down… then Mia and her personas were anathema to us. She was one of a very small group – possibly even singular, I’d need to look it up – of people I had fought and never beaten. Almost every loss I’d ever taken, I had given back either earlier or later.  

Valentine.

Ripper.

Donovan.

King.

MJ.

But Mia…

Seven years ago, I had been drawn out of retirement for the fiftieth episode of Evolution. The main event had been a showcase of the three women who had defined that era – me, MJ, and Mia.

Now, I could make excuses of why I had lost – I was out of practice while Mia was at the top of the game; I had been in recovery from the trauma of the preceding year and the battle against Order and Institute to save my husband from their clutches…

… but making excuses was a Ripper move. It wasn’t me.

The fact was, I chose to participate, I gave it all I had, and at the end of the night it was Mia who stood triumphant.

And now, seven years later… that particular bit of red was still in my ledger.

Hey, bright side, thought a part of me, at least you get to cross it out if you beat her.

Yes, thought another, just beat one of CWF’s deadliest competitors, who took down your cousin not three hours ago. Super easy.

Still.

My mixed feelings on the matter aside… there had been precious little to celebrate for the folks at the Academy this year. So I poured myself another margarita and told myself that no, it wasn’t hubris, it was… a well earned celebration of a hard fought victory.

… dear God I hope I don’t drop it on the first defense again, last time was so fucking embarrassing.

‘Alright folks,’ said Eris, stepping up in front of the screen as the show faded to black on that glorious shot of me and MJ beneath the confetti, championship belts raised high. ‘So, in case twice in one night wasn’t enough…’ They stopped, clearly waiting for someone to start hooting, but apparently no-one had quite as dirty a mind as them, ‘… we’re gonna be showing that match on a loop in Seminar Room 2, for those who want to scrutinize the details for their blogs tomorrow. Here in the main room, your entertainment will be…’

They triumphantly pushed a button.

‘I QUIT, YOU FUCKING BITCH!’ Pause. ‘I QUIT, YOU FUCKING BITCH! I QUIT, YOU FUCKING BITCH!’

‘Isn’t that gonna get old?’ asked Dan.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Eris, turning towards him, ‘are you of all people really saying you’re going to get sick of watching Ripper quit like a peasant?’

Dan looked sheepish and took a sip of his Guinness. ‘Well, I might get tired of it after a few hours…’

‘Maybe we move that to Seminar Room 2 and replay the match here?’ I asked.

Eris pouted. ‘You used to be fun.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, ‘who exactly is it that generated that clip that brings you such joy?’

‘… point taken. Alright, new plan – anyone who wants to watch Ripper get humiliated on a continuous loop, Seminar Room 2!’

‘Sweet,’ said MJ, pulling herself off the couch and heading over to the seminar room. ‘Be back in a bit!’

‘You’re actually going to go and watch the loop?’ I asked.

MJ grinned. ‘It’s only so often you get to watch someone so awful get their comeuppance so completely. So until they leak the video of Trump shittin’ his britches, I’ma make do with this for a minute.’

The newly-crowned Paramount Champion sauntered out of the room; Dan, looking at me with an apologetic shrug, followed. I chuckled.

Let’s face it, she had a point.

Eris was making themself another drink, and I sidled up to them. ‘So…’ I said, ‘you doing okay?’

They looked at me. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

‘I mean, you got dragged into the ring and whipped…’

They grinned at me. ‘Oh please. You’ve seen the porn I watch.’ That was unfortunately true. ‘Getting whipped by a barbed-wire-wrapped chain? That’s my idea of a fun Saturday night.’

 ‘Yeah, but this wasn’t exactly consensual.’

Their grinning façade broke for just long enough. I knew not to press it. ‘Look, I’m… here if you need me, okay?’

‘Thanks,’ they said, uncharacteristically serious. They drained their lemon drop martini in one go, then made another. ‘I’m gonna go watch Ripper surrendering like a French stereotype on an endless loop for a few minutes… and start planning my next #marielledonia fic.’

‘Oh come on,’ I said, ‘I thought you were calling it a day!’

‘That was before the two of you had your little moment in the ring,’ they said with a smirk. ‘Hm. Maybe I can get MJ to tell me what she said to you; nothing fuels smut like realistic dialogue!’

‘It wasn’t anything smutty!’ I called as they scurried off.

I strolled back through the party, shaking hands and giving high fives to the various attendees as I did. On the screen, I saw myself swing the metal rod into Ripper’s thigh, knocking him to one knee.  And I watched myself hesitate, my inability to deliver the finishing blow giving Ripper an opportunity to get back on the offensive.

‘You won’t be able to get away with that against them,’ came a voice beside me. I jumped, spilling a fair portion of my margarita.

‘Are you sure you’re not a vampire anymore?’ I hissed at Mark, who had appeared very suddenly next to me.

‘Well, my preferred red beverage is now a nice Cotes du Rhone rather than human blood, so…’

I chuckled, and was pleasantly surprised to be handed another margarita by one of Eris’ drones. ‘Thank you, Linus,’ I said, not at all sure of the drone’s actual name but unable to resist the How I Met Your Mother reference. My annoyance at my cousin startling me into spilling my drink now suitably abated, I turned my attention to his comment. ‘What do you mean, against them?’

He looked at me askance. ‘Who else would I be talking about?’

‘Seeing as you’re unlikely to be referring to Eris,’ I mused, ‘I can only assume you mean my opponent – opponents? – for next Infernalia.’

‘The pronoun situation does get a little tricky,’ he said, sipping his wine. ‘But my point stands.’

‘How so?’

‘Ripper,’ he said, ‘is a deadly adversary. He will exploit any weakness he can find to every end he can. But he is only one man. The Menagerie…’ He shook his head. ‘As you fight one, the others are watching, analyzing, planning. Recovering. You saw what happened in my match. I had Loki on the ropes; she disappeared into the ring and Amelia appeared behind me. I strike Amelia down; she forces Mia to take the blow. I choke out Cheshire; she metamorphosizes into a completely fresh Loki.’ He placed his hand on my shoulder. ‘You asked me a few weeks ago if I was sure I was ready to face them. It was not until I faced them that I realized that there was no possible way to answer “yes”. So I shall not ask you that.’ He took a deep breath. ‘What I will ask you is this. You just had possibly the toughest, most psychologically intense fight of your life. Are you willing to accept that that fight will be paltry in comparison with what you face now?’

I respected Mark too much to answer quickly. I thought for a moment.

I had fought in big matches before, it was true… even against people with semi-mythical powers. But in the future, I had had powers, I had been able to take on the mantle of the High Priestess and channel the Divine. The Menagerie… well, they seemed to have powers right here.

… hm.

Could I still have my powers?

No. Surely not.

But against the Menagerie, around whom reality seemed to break… 

I took a deep breath. ‘Look. Mia and the Menagerie are -’

I was interrupted by some raucous jeers as Eris emerged from the seminar room, their trousers and underpants around their ankles and a scowl on their face. They glowered over their shoulder at Dan, who looked far too pleased with himself.

‘Remember the song!’ he yelled.

Eris hissed at him, sounding every bit like an angry cat.

‘You lost!’ he said smugly. ‘This was the bet!’

‘He’s right,’ said MJ, emerging behind Dan and tapping her phone.

Eris grumbled and began shuffling around the room, reading something – song lyrics, it became clear – as they did. They sang a tune I recognized, every syllable laced with hatred.

Well I just lost a bet to Dan,

And must admit that he’s the man,

And now I’ll hear from every fan,

Eris, where’s your trousers?

‘Once more, with feeling!’ called Dan. Eris repeated the chorus, all the while bearing a look that implied that anyone who spoke of this would find themselves on the business end of one of their drones’ tasers. As they finished, the crowd raucously sang along  ‘ERIS, WHERE’S YOUR TROUSERS?’

Upon completing the second round, Eris yanked up said trousers and scurried over to the drinks table, muttering under their breath, doubtlessly plotting untold levels of revenge. I turned to Mark. ‘I… need to investigate this.’ He nodded, and I sidled over to Dan. ‘So,’ I said, ‘what on earth did you bet them?’

He grinned. ‘That the JJ Abrams Star Trek reboot came out closer to the last Original Series movie than the present day.’

‘… oh fucking hell, that can’t be true.’

‘As of last week,’ he said, a massive grin on his face. Fucking hell, he hasn’t looked this happy since he found that stupid Fart.

I glowered at him, at least 42% a level of venom as Eris had. ‘You know I don’t like it when you do that.’

‘What, make Eris take their pants off as the result of losing a bet?’

‘And the #daneris shippers go wild…’ said MJ under her breath. She was also grinning.

I shook my head. ‘I would never deprive you of the ability to win bets against Eris – though I shudder to think what they were going to have you sing. No, I mean that thing you do where you say that “oh, remember that thing from when we weren’t that young? Well, it’s closer to some ancient event than the present day!”. That. That’s what I don’t like.’

MJ smirked. ‘I think it’s kinda fun.’

I narrowed my eyes at her. ‘The first episode of Stranger Things aired closer to the release of Windows Vista than the present day.’

‘That was unnecessary,’ she said, wincing.

‘It was entirely necessary,’ I said as she went to pick up another drink. ‘As for you,’ I continued, turning to Dan. ‘How long have you had that bloody song ready to go?’

‘Six years,’ he said happily. ‘Been waiting a long time to find something Eris was sure enough about to make that bet on.’

‘You two really are going to keep this prank war up forever, aren’t you?’

‘Well, as long as Eris continues to be our housemate-pushing-for-menage-a-trois…’

I rolled my eyes. ‘What did we discuss?’

‘Don’t acknowledge their neverending quest to shag us,’ he said with a sigh. ‘It just encourages them.’

‘Indeed,’ I said firmly, and went back to finish my conversation with Mark.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘that was unexpected.’

I laughed. ‘You always did have a way of understating.’

He looked at me. ‘Did I now? Well… if you’ll forgive a tad more business before we return to this well-earned celebration, dear cousin… know that it is impossible to warn of the dangers of a fight against the Menagerie without understating.’

‘I know,’ I said. ‘Tonight you were in the best form I’ve seen you in since the Entourage days. And even that wasn’t enough to get over the line. As you say… to fight them is unlike fighting anyone else.’

‘And?’

‘And I can get it done,’ I said with more confidence than I was expecting. ‘I know that might just sound like bravado… but I did not come this far to fucking lose again. So fighting them is like fighting the ultimate handicap match? The last time I won this title, I was against five men who could only agree on one thing: they really really didn’t want me winning. And yet, it was my hand raised at the end of the night. I just beat the Ripper, CWF’s most sadistic man, in what amounted to a torture contest. I can handle whatever mind games those bitches throw at me.’

As if to punctuate the point… ‘I QUIT, YOU FUCKING BITCH!’

Mark nodded. ‘Now, and only now, I ask: are you sure you’re up for this?’

I took a deep breath. ‘Anyone who watched your match knows that the Menagerie is not to be taken lightly. And I’m not taking them lightly. But I am CWF’s World Champion. I earned my spot at the top. I’ve overcome everything put before me. Damn right I’ll overcome the Menagerie.’

Mark nodded. ‘And that’s all need be said.’

We silently toasted, and I returned to the party, wondering what was next, in more ways than one.