The Ritual

CAT CALLAHAN
You got flat-lined, Caity.

CAITY DAWSON-CRUZ
Nuh-uh.

CAT CALLAHAN
Sent to the shadow realm.

CAITY DAWSON-CRUZ
I disagree.

CAT CALLAHAN
Knocked theeee FUCK out!

Caity is quiet, holding the cell phone to her ear. This conversation wasn’t going the way she had hoped it would. Cat seemed far too focused on the negative aspects of the first ever Ollie Ovaltational. Sure, Caity had taken some punishment in her return to wrestling… but she had done some good things too!

CAITY DAWSON-CRUZ
I got a nice pair of pants out of the whole ordeal, CAT! I also came in second, if you were too busy sipping your Haterade to notice.

CAT CALLAHAN
You got kicked in the head, and knocked completely unconscious. You can’t just pretend that it didn’t happen, we all watched it! You! Face down and limp on the canvas! I SEENT IT, BITCH!

CAITY DAWSON-CRUZ
… why do I feel like you’re intentionally ignoring how cool the pants I got were? Besides, it was like a month ago at this point, I’m totally fine. You need to let this go.

Caity can hear the frustration loud and clear as Cat sighs deeply. The two friends and former colleagues sit in a prolonged silence, each sitting and listening to the rhythmic breathing of the other over the phone line.

Caity eventually stands up from her couch, making her way quickly out of her apartment's sitting area and heading to the bedroom. She approaches her dresser, opening the top drawer carefully and revealing a small wooden lock-box. Caity looks around in either direction, ensuring that nobody is watching her. She doesn’t know who exactly she would expect to be hiding inside her home and spying… but she’s sure some creep would. Maybe Klayton Kross? He seems like the type.

She plunges her hand into the neck line of her tee shirt, stretching out the fabric as her arm disappears to the elbow. It becomes apparent that she’s fishing around in her bra for several long seconds before finally pulling her hand free and revealing a tiny brass key.

CAT CALLAHAN
Whenever you’re quiet for this long, it scares me.

Caity slips the key into the lock carefully and twists until the latch pops open. She opens the box, revealing the prized black leather pants that once belonged to Finn Whelan. Caity inhales deeply, sucking in the aroma of cow hide and mahogany and shuddering softly.

CAT CALLAHAN
… Caity?

CAITY DAWSON-CRUZ
Yeah totally…

She lifts the pants carefully from the box, making her way over to a full length mirror in the corner of the bedroom and unfolding them in front of her own thighs, modelling for herself. She loves what she sees. How could she not?

CAT CALLAHAN
You’re not listening to me at all anymore, are you?

CAITY DAWSON-CRUZ
Definitely. I agree.

Cat sighs deeply again over the phone line. She tries one last time to talk some sense into Caity.

CAT CALLAHAN
Look; I only worry because I care. You have a history of bad concussions, Caity, and it’s terrifying as your friend to watch you get back into the ring after years away and get knocked out like that. It hurts to watch you get booked in opening matches against people like Bam Miller, or Ruby Steele, or Chelsea Skye, and not be able to represent yourself well!

For the first time, Caity is snapped out of her trance while admiring her own reflection with the leather pants. She scoffs, her face twisting into a mask of disgust.

CAITY DAWSON-CRUZ
Not represent myself well?! How! DAAAAARE! You!

CAT CALLAHAN
Don’t twist what I’m saying, Cait-

Caity pulls the phone away from her ear, sliding her thumb to hang up the call and tossing her cell atop the nearby mattress. She didn’t need that sort of negativity in her life. She was representing herself just fine. Sure, she hadn’t won a match yet and the majority of the roster had no idea who she was or whether she even worked there… but that would take care of itself in time.

It didn’t matter to her, and was inconsequential what anybody else thought about her or her skill set… she hadn’t signed with PWE to prove anything to the Kayla Richards’ or Lachlan Kane’s of the world, and she certainly didn’t care what Levi Russow thought about her.

She had made her way to this company for Finn Whelan, and more specifically his pants.

They were very nice pants.

She seemed completely transfixed by them.

CAITY DAWSON-CRUZ
Soon… soon the ritual will be complete…

Wait.

What the fuck?