I Disappear, Part 1

“I DISAPPEAR, PART 1”

Pro Wrestling Excellence presents Magnificence
No-Disqualification Impulse Championship Match: vs. Tara Ayla

Cameraperson: N/A
On-Camera: Zoey Madigan-Star
Off-Camera: ?, Miss Gentry, Katalina Star

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Date Unknown
Location Unknown
Time Unknown

The room is dark. Not like the dying light of evening or the last moments before dawn, but an inky, interior-of-a-coffin dark. Dark… and very still.

And then, like a knife, a sliver of light cuts into the black.

The incision is too thin to reveal much. There does appear to be someone in the room, though. Sitting on a chair, perhaps a stool. A glimpse of long legs sheathed in partially-tattered material, perhaps the hem of a skirt and a flash of white akin to that of a physician’s jacket. That… and what looks like rope or some form of cord wrapped around them. At several levels, in fact.

”This is for your own good.”

A voice belonging to a male, distorted by a pocket-sized device held to their masked face. It is quiet but might bear a faint northeastern accent when heard naturally. It might even be charming, or at least belonging to a handsome figure of a gentleman, but there is nothing to see of the speaker save for their broad build and the heavy clothing and mask that keeps them from being recognized. At the sound of their voice, though, there is faint motion within that narrow line of illumination in the room. Perhaps it shines in through a window? Maybe a door slot?

”Not what you want to hear, I know. Change isn’t something you’ve ever been good with, no matter how much you wish it were otherwise.”

The speaker sighs, a grating sound through the electronic scrambler. The shadowed figure stills. Silence reigns for several moments.

”I’m sorry.”

Just like that, the motion becomes frantic within the bit of light. The scrape of metal on stone, the off-rhythm clinking of… well, it is hard to say what. There’s a faint creak, too, but the nature of that is likewise difficult to discern.

The muffled sound, though, is easy to figure out. And it gives the best clue to what is going on.

”We’ll talk later.”

The noise, at least the verbal one, becomes more frantic. But just like that, the light goes away and the darkness returns in all its false glory. Muffled shrieks become quiet sniffing.

One could swear they heard a tear hit the floor.

Wednesday, January 19th, 2021
The Madigan-Star Residence, Malibu, California
4:12pm, Pacific Time

Pacing near-incessantly back and forth across the kitchen linoleum, Zoey Madigan-Star has her arms folded beneath her ample chest, her bare soles softly smacking the smooth surface with each step. One turn shows the Bluetooth headset in her left ear, her phone placed upon the counter. A pot bubbles merrily on the stove, the light within the oven showing a dish of something no doubt tasty, and a few bowls of varying sizes rest on the island in the middle of the kitchen, for the moment untended.

Mostly because of the phone call.

”It is just as you heard, Mrs. Madigan-Star. The grave was dug up, the contents confiscated. The police have been over the place a few times, getting what clues they can, but there’s not much to go on. The attendant was knocked out and there were no tracks left behind, foot or tire. This had to be premeditated. The question is… why?”

”I… I don’t have an answer for you, Miss Gentry. He’s been gone for almost a decade. He didn’t have any enemies that I know of. I mean, he died for this country! I just don’t understand!”

The further the conversation goes, even in the early bits, the more wound up Zoey gets. When it comes to Drake, though… people know to tread lightly.

Watching from the door between the kitchen and the living room, Katalina reflexively reaches up to touch her cheek. She knows full well what it means to even speak ill of Zoey’s late brother. When she did it herself, the reaction was violent: a hard slap to the face that knocked her to her knees. Zoey has never stopped apologizing for that, even knowing that Kat did it on purpose to try and help Zoey see the error of her ways. Even years later, the memory was strong.

”And why go this far anyway? Desecrating the dead? That’s a level beyond the norm. Forgive me for asking, but-”

The woman is cut off by Zoey, who wipes her eyes with the back of her hand.

”Does it have anything to do with wrestling?”

”...yes, that.”

Flashes of the recent past in PWE surface, the constant assaults by this mystery attacker highlighted as well as Zoey’s interactions and reactions as a result. Her face contorts a bit, hardening in anger, but when she speaks her voice is mouse-quiet.

”...no, I doubt it.”

”You don’t sound certain.”

”No, I am. I don’t think even the people against me would go that far. Not even Xaria given her past associations. And it isn't like I have issues with anyone else there. At least not that I know up. Since this whole thing started it feels like eveyrone looks over their shoulders when I walk by. I... I hate it.”

”I see... then we’re still at square one. You mentioned, however, that you’ve been seeing him? Drake, I mean?”

”Which you didn’t believe then and probably still don’t now. So why bring it up?”

”At this point, I’m not discounting anything.”

Miss Gentry is quiet for a moment, but the faint scratch of a pencil over the line depicts a woman taking notes. Zoey finally picks up the largest of the bowls on the counter and a whisk from the rack, mixing the container’s contents.

”All right, I have a theory or two. I’ll look into them. Meanwhile, if you see or hear anything, please call me immediately, no matter the time of day.”

”I thought you said-”

”I’m aware of what I said. I changed my mind. Against my better judgment this is starting to feel like a personal attack and that does not sit well with me. Any hour of the day. All right?”

”All right. Thank you.”

”No problem. I’ll be in touch.”

Reaching up with one hand, the whisk idle in the bowl, Zoey taps the button on her headset to end the call, taking it out and setting it near her phone. Only now does Katalina, in a camisole and loose cotton pajama pants, come into the kitchen. She hesitates, then slides her arms around Zoey’s waist from behind, nuzzling against her wife’s back.

”Are you going to be all right? I don’t like it when you’re sad.”

Tensing at the first touch, Zoey realizes who it is and sets the bowl and whisk back down. She places her hands on Katalina’s arms and sniffs a little.

”I have to be. There's no other way if I want to keep moving forward. If I stop, let all this pile up on me... I'm lost.”

”You don’t have to do anything that you don't wish to, love. The people trying to hurt you and drag your good name through the mud? They're jealous. They wish they were you and hate that they can never be that good.”

Leaning back a little, Zoey sniffs and smiles softly.

”It feels like less and less of a choice. I try… I try my hardest, both for you and for Kay. For Claire… for everyone important to me and us. But…”

”Do it for YOU. That will make ME happy.”

A faint smile forms. Zoey leans her head back a bit to nuzzle Kat’s cheek.

”Happy life, happy wife?”

”Now you’re catching on.”

Turning and sauntering away as only she can do, Katalina jumps and squeaks when Zoey’s hand gives her backside a nice, firm swat. But she’s back into the other room with a giggle. Zoey looks after her with a smile, then picks up the bowl again. In moments, her tears are dropping into it and she has to put it down after nearly dropping it on the floor. Hands grasp the counter as she holds herself up, trembling.

Friday, January 21st, 2021
Arena Mexico, Mexico City
11:31am, Local Time

PWE’s first sojourn south of the border places them in one of the meccas of professional wrestling, Arena Mexico, right in the middle of Mexico City. The passionate fans are swarming the fabled arena as a press conference for Magnificence is held inside. The ring is set up with a podium, a well-equipped crew and a number of fans filling the seats. Even better is the set-up for the show, with wrestlers attending the conference and speaking to the fans able to make their entrances as they approach the ring. The Mexico City faithful are already buzzing even before “Ladies and Gentlemen” hits the speakers, and the sight of Zoey Madigan-Star making her arrival, dressed all in black with the Impulse Championship over her shoulder, is enough to shake the dusty rafters!

She makes her way down to the ring, managing a smile despite all else going on with her. One of the attendants holds the ropes for her and she enters the squared circle, taking a moment to turn and look about the place. It is her first time competing here and that excitement cannot be hidden. As her music fades out, she steps up to the podium, setting the title upon it in front of her, on display, and leans into the microphone.

”Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming-”

But she cannot finish her thought before the lights inexplicably go out. It is only for the space of a few seconds, but it is enough to sow confusion among the fans. When the lights come back on, Zoey is standing ready to fight, the title in her hands, brandished like a weapon.

But… nothing happens. The lights return and all is seemingly well. She takes a moment to compose herself, then places the belt back on the podium and resumes speaking.

”Shall we try again? Thank you for coming, ladies and gentlemen, to the site of PWE’s second pay-per-view, Magnificence! To be able to compete in my first pay-per-view match for PWE in front of such amazing people and in such a historic venue is an honor that I struggle to put into words. So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for having us!”

The translators keep up well with Zoey, and while the cheers are just a beat off-rhythm, they’re still heartfelt.

”I have the pleasure that night of facing a woman who I have called friend for some time in Tara Ayla. She is an incredible young woman, both in and out of the ring, having fought through some rough times and dealt with the slings and arrows of her adversaries. And now she stands prepared to try and take the Impulse Championship from yours truly in hopes of not only earning her first championship but in making herself and Damian, the World Heavyweight Champion, one of the most impressive power couples in wrestling!

And truly, I love that she has this chance. She is a friend, after all, and I want to see my friends succeed. Yet, because she is my friend, I cannot let her simply waltz in and take what is mine.”

Zoey gets serious for a moment, resting her hands lightly upon the title she was the first person to hold.

’There is no such thing in my world as giving less than my best. But when it comes to battling someone I care about, the necessity is even stronger. Tara has known me for several years and is not unaware that this will not be my first time tangling with a loved one. I defeated my wife, Katalina Star, alongside my best friend to win the LAW World Tag Team Championships and then, when there were literally no other opponents to be had, Farrah and I faced off against one another before turning right around and continuing to utterly dominate.

Two of the people I care about most in this world and I did not think twice about throwing down hard against them.

You know this is true, Tara…”

The champion averts her eyes so that she’s looking right into the camera, right at her challenger.

”...and thus you know that Zoey Madigan-Star, the Sorceress Supreme of Professional Wrestling, the first-ever PWE Impulse Champion, is bringing everything and more to Magnificence. And with no rules to bother with? Well, usually that isn’t my forte, but this time around… I have some exorcising to do.”

A saucy, sultry smile forms and Zoey leans back a bit from the microphone. Picking up the championship and draping it over her shoulder, the champion tosses her head, her black hair flung over her other shoulder and her head tilted just so as she gazes into the camera anew.

”And on the topic of no rules?”

Just like that, smile becomes snarl.

”I expect you to keep your nose out of my business, Xaria. Ophelia kept me from giving you what you deserve at Victory but it was merely a forbearance. We are not done. Tara is more important than you at this moment, coming for my title like she is. But after Magnificence?

I’m going to make you disappear.”

From there, Zoey moves to leave the ring amidst the cheers of the fans. When she gets to the ropes, which are again held for her, she freezes. Halfway between the top and middle she pauses, her hand on the topmost rope, staring out into the crowd. The pause has people confused, from the fans to the pyro techs to the camera folks.

In fact, one of the latter, on a whim, sweeps the camera out towards where Zoey is looking. There standing at the furthest row is a young man, thickly-built with strong, tattooed arms and a handsome smile. He’s looking right back at Zoey, applauding slowly. The champion, staring as though she is seeing a ghost, drops her championship as she quickly straightens up. The abject shock on her face and the way she shakes like a wind-tossed leaf has a few of the security guards moving, two heading for the rear seats, two moving toward Zoey herself. It is a blur of activity as the two large men hustle her out of the arena while the others try to reach the man to, presumably, ‘have a word’ with him.

But he’s gone, just like that, with Zoey looking over her shoulder frantically for him before she exits through the curtain…

Date Unknown
Location Unknown
Time Unknown

The door is heavy, perhaps composed of oak, and adorned with iron. It is old, as are the pocked stone walls bordering it. Old, dirty, untouched by color but marred by time and neglect. The door bears no window, having only a metal slot positioned upper-center. And given the reinforced bar of wood and metal that blocks the way, there is something behind this passage that someone does not want lost.

Or escaping.

A phone buzzes, rather than ringing, but in the silence of this place it is audible with the strength of a fly buzzing next to one’s ear. It stops after a moment, and someone answers it in a smooth, if concerned, tone.

”Yeah?”

A pause.

”Things are secure here. Don’t think it’ll stay that way for long, though... not knowing what I know about the folks involved. You get that, right? That this plot of yours is a bomb waiting to go off? This isn’t the sort of thing that goes unnoticed-”

Another pause. This time someone walks into view, clad in jeans and a black hoodie. The phone held to their ear is nudged behind the hood but in such a way that it is on the side facing away from our line of sight. Their body language betrays a certain tension.

”Whoa, hey… I said I’d get it done! That’s why you brought me in, isn’t it? Because I get shit done?! Then what’s with the fucking talk of ‘backups’ and shit?! She's here and I'm the only one who knows that! I'll get what you want, then you'll give me what I need-”

Agitation increases more and more as the man turns his back, his fist raised as if to slam against the heavy door, though he relents. That fist trembles and shakes, though; he is barely restraining himself.

”NO!”

And just like that, there’s shuffling from behind the door, faint but definitely happening. It causes the man to snap to attention, going stock still. When next he speaks, his voice drops considerably.

”No one else is brought in on this, do you fucking understand me?! I will get the job done, like I always do! Like I’ve always done! You try to call an audible on me and-”

The call ends soon after, the man cut off before he can say his piece, leaving him having to resist the urge to chuck the phone into the wall. He comes close to doing so, but instead angrily shoves it into his hoodie pocket before lifting the barrier and shoving the door open. His body blocks view of the room’s sole occupant, but there is still chaos from them, albeit the muffled variety…

Sunday, January 23rd, 2021
Drake’s Landing Therapy Center, Malibu, California
10:11pm, Pacific Time

The sky has given over fully to the night, stars glittering brightly as Zoey exits her therapy center in the late hour. The week has been a blur of activity already and even as it nears its end the Sorceress Supreme is finding herself laden with duties unfinished. Could this have waited till morning? Most certainly. But that simply isn’t Zoey. Letting the door close behind her, she shifts the locked briefcase to her other arm and fishes her keys out of her jacket pocket, locking the entrance and then entering the alarm code on the panel. Breathing a sigh of relief, she pockets the keys again and checks her watch.

”Ugh… thank GOD for leftovers. No time to cook and all the decent restaurants are closed…”

Sighing and shaking her head, Zoey lugs the clearly-heavy bag to her purple truck in the parking lot, unlocking it and putting it into the passenger seat. Shutting the door, her phone goes off. She pauses to take her phone from the pocket of her white doctor’s coat and answer it.

”Miss Gentry?”

”Mrs. Madigan-Star. I’ve acquired a lead on the grave situation. Some people witnessed a group of people in black busting into the cemetery and digging up the grave. No distinct details yet, but it gives us something to go on.”

The news has Zoey weak in the knees a bit, necessitating her putting a hand on the truck to steady herself.

”So… so what happens now?”

”Local police are going to question these witnesses, see what they can learn. I’m being allowed to sit in on these questionings. Apparently dropping your name with a few people at the precinct was all it took. People clearly still remember and revere the hometown girl.”

Miss Gentry does try to relate that lightly, perhaps to assuage Zoey, but all that comes of it is a faint, wavering smile on the woman’s face.

”Good… that’s… that’s good, right?”

”It’s more than I expected. Sorry for calling so late-”

”No, no… I was getting some overdue paperwork done at the center anyway. You caught me on my way out.”

”Well, I’ll let you get home to your lady, then. Just wanted to fill you in. I’ll call again as soon as I know something.”

”All right… thank you again.”

Zoey hangs up and folds her arms against the hood of the vehicle and rests her head against them. No sound emits from the young woman, but her shoulders shake a bit… and there’s no mistaking what that indicates.

A few moments later, she rights herself and walks around the truck, her pace slow, her boot heels thumping softly on the asphalt. She reaches the driver’s side door and presses the unlock button on her remote, the vehicle chirping in response. But as she opens the door, a powerful, thickly-clothed arm reaches around her body, yanking her backwards, causing her to drop her keys. She has no time to scream in surprise as a gloved hand bearing a white cloth is clamped tightly over her nose and mouth… held there until the drug soaking the cloth takes effect and the young woman fades into unconsciousness.

The figure, hooded and masked, hoists her up and over their shoulder, pocketing her phone. Picking up the keys as well, the person locks the vehicle and shuts the door, carrying the unconscious Zoey to a nearby sedan and putting her into the trunk. Slamming the lid shut, they get into the driver’s seat and start the engine, pulling out of the lot and away…

Date Unknown
Location Unknown
Time Unknown

The figure from before, broad and imposing as ever, stands facing the chair in the room behind the door. For the first time in hours, light is flooding the room, both from the outside and from the glaring gleam of a fluorescent tube light hanging from the ceiling above. The hooded figure’s shoulders are slumped a little, as if in defeat. And the figure bound to the chair, upon feeling their captor’s closeness and grip on the chair itself, is throwing themselves against their restraints, shrieking beneath a thick black sack pulled over their head.

Reaching into their jeans pocket, the captor takes out a small, electronic device, holding it to their covered mouth as they start to speak.

”The sooner you calm down, the easier this will be. All I want is information. Once I get it, you’re free to go.”

The figure is well-tied; the ropes are wrapped several times around each limb and the heavy frame of the chair is barely moving despite the captive’s efforts. Their arms and upper body, their wrists, their waist, legs, ankles… the person who applied these ropes is no amateur. The figure reaches out and removes the hood…

”So let’s talk…”

...to reveal a cascade of dark hair and a pair of golden eyes squinting against the sudden rush of overpowering light over a thick black cloth knotted between their lips.

Zoey Madigan-Star.

And even with her considerable escape artistry skills, she can find no purchase, no freedom.

”...that is, if you think you can be calm?”

The only response from the suddenly-silent woman is a cold glare. The captor nearly flinches at the sight of it, standing up straight in a hurry. There is a moment of hesitation before he brings the device up again.

”I’ll take that as a no. Guess you still need time to think.”

He turns around and moves to leave, reaching the door in short order. Zoey just stares after him until she sees his hand move to turn off the light, at that point making more than a little noise, the look in her eyes shifting from anger to worry. He stops, turning to look at her… and again, that hesitation.

”Fine. You can keep the light. For now.”

The worry fades, replaced by brief calm, then concern. But he does not look back at her again, instead exiting and closing the door behind him. Leaning upon it, he pockets the device, again using his natural voice, and whispers to himself.

”Just like old times…”

Sadness has crept into his voice. He turns and walks away after replacing the lock and lowering the bar on the door. From behind it there is nothing but silence before the scene fades to black.