Appearances By: None
Mentioned: Hardcore Timmay, Fallen, Tony Millennia, Draco, Casanova, Jason Nigh


Nine Inch Nipples
Popularity Contest


Picton was fucking freezing! Not that I’m complaining. I love the cold. But then there’s that certain cold which makes your nipples turn into Nine Inch Nipples before falling off. And the cold metal of piercings just made it even worse. Not to get too personal or anything. Cough.

I sat, huddled on the black, leather sofa in my living room. The fireplace glowed to my right. It was a really neat invention. The fireplace was open and the flames looked real, but they were actually a hologram that produced heat with the flip of a switch. Needless to say, the heat was on. I was curled up in a heavy, dark red blanket. Beneath the blanket, I was wearing a pair of grey, wool socks, black, sweatpants with two red lines down the sides and my baggy, black Metallica sweat shirt that was about seven sizes too big. It probably fit Darkstar… and that was saying something.

Zane was crawling around on my lap, mewing every so often for attention. And I’ll be damned if she got it. Mew. Pet-pet. Mew. Pet-pet. She was just a big suck… and a spoiled one at that.

I peered quietly at the wide-screen television about ten feet in front of me. It was encased against the wall in chestnut wood. There were cupboards on either side of the television, one containing the stereo system that was connected to a bunch of hidden speakers laced through-out the room and the other held the DVD/VCR player and various gaming systems, such as PS2 and X-Box. Yeah, believe it or not, Big Bad Gwen is a gamer at heart. Pathetic, I know. Not my proudest moment, but Hell, who doesn’t enjoy a good round of Grand Theft Auto III or Fable? Okay… moving on…

The rest of the room was decked out in black and crimson décor. The leather sofa was the main piece of four-part suite. The second piece was a love seat, the third a chair and the fourth a recliner. They were all formed into I didn’t have company much, but my living room just looked naked without the extra seats. On either side of sofa were chestnut tables. In front of the sofa was a glass coffee table. It was a chestnut base with four legs at each corner.

Two bookcases, side by side, sat on the right side of the room, standing at about six feet tall and filled with books. I was a big reader. I could easily lose myself in a book and get lost for hours… providing there were no distractions. I rarely got a chance to read in Alaska. Once I got into the book, Darkstar and Demonica would finish training. Or someone would have a dilemma and call my cell. Because, y’know, I’m the shrink.

The television was playing a tape of Impulse, as well as a few promos that I had managed to get my hands on. I figured after almost missing Timmay’s lovely promotions last week, it might be a good idea to start watching them again. I stopped watching them in NEW3 because people talked a lot of smack and it really got under my skin, making me lose my focus and therefore get horrible win-loss statistics.

I wasn’t really paying much attention to the tape. My gaze was more so focused on the laptop sitting in front of me that had a webpage open to the federation’s homepage. I was watching videos of The Dealer’s matches, finding weaknesses and strengths. Then a voice that I faintly recognized saying my name had me looking at the television.

“… Gwenivere Jordan. I’d like to sink… things into her.” My gaze shot up instantly from the screen, brow rising. Draco and Casanova were on the screen, backstage, talking about God knows what. I picked up the remote and rewound the tape until it was just near the beginning of the scene with the two.

“You better destroy him, for God’s sake. Just like how I beat that little cub earlier tonight.” Draco uttered, a sick smile coming to his face. I watched intently, brow raised.

“Jamie Heck, pffft. He doesn’t deserve the seat off my ball sac. Although, I know who does…” Casanova let his words trail off, losing himself in what I figured was a fantasy.

“Who?” Draco asked.

“You know… Gwenivere Jordan.” Great… I’m good enough for ball sac sweat. Sweet. “I’d like to sink… things into her.” He continued. Draco nodded. I instantly felt a twinge in the side of my neck. My brow furrowed, hand coming up to rub where Darkstar had already marked my skin. I had a nice imprint of his teeth at the crook of my neck. Sure, I had them other places, too, but that one was the most visible.

“She took you to the limit, last week.” Damn right! “Hell, you barely beat her.” Draco stated. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was concerned.

“Exactly. That’s why I’m putting the Television Title on the line against her at Illusions.” My brow rose lightly, fingers slipping from my neck to gently press against Zane’s back. She was sleeping. Again. A rematch? How noble. I felt all… trendy. It was bad enough that Timmay had a crush on me. But now Cas wanted to “stick things” in me. Hell, who else had a thing for me? Not that I’m being arrogant or narcissistic.

Though… I won’t deny that it’s a serious ego boost. Especially with my less-than-attentive boyfriend who was off in the wilderness again with Demonica. Which really didn’t matter to me. Demonica had a boyfriend and Darkstar was extremely monogamous. Besides, despite Demonica being a hell of a lot tougher than me, a woman scorned can easily dominate against someone who is bigger than them. I’m sure that if I was pissed enough, I could take down my gargantuan boyfriend… with a kick to the balls followed by the hasty and messy death of Mister Happy.

Then there were other men. Jason Nigh. We had worked together in NEW3, and he had a bit of a crush on me. It was cute. I dunno how he feels about me now. Then there was a guy named Seraph in NEW3, as well. That was my fault. I had the biggest infatuation with him, and he barely recognized that I was female. Until I fucked his brains out, that is. So I admit it, I’m a bit of a whore. I’ve had my fair share of partners, though I would never confess to be in the hundreds. I’d say… fewer than thirty. Most of them, mind you, had been during my path-of-self-destruction days. I used to run with biker gangs… and I found pleasure among their younger ranks.

And now, with more men… I have a growing partnership it seems. Tony Millennia and I have joined forces. Which is a big step, all things considered. He and I had a bit of a rivalry in NEW3. Nothing too extreme. We didn’t hate each other’s guts… just didn’t get along too well. A… healthy rivalry, I guess you could say. All I did was intervene in a match between a few of my Frost Incorporated buddies when they were against Tony and some Eto faggot. Oh well. What’s done is done. No one can rewrite the past. I suppose it was safe to say that I was… heh… blinded by stardom. I was a newbie in NEW when I joined Frost Inc. and was surrounded by a bunch of superstars.

Then there’s the issue of Monsieur Fallen. Ah yes… Mister Louisville himself. Not a way to get on my good side. See, I may be a heel, but I have this fickle thing where I like to win and lose my matches on my own… or at the very least… with the aid of people who hate my opponent. Since he doesn’t know this, he gets a one-time-use-only grace. If he feels inclined to do it again, I shall be forced to take measures into my own hands.

My gaze dropped down to Zane who was rolling around happily on my blanket, drooling the whole while. I picked her up under her front legs and cringed at the medium-sized puddle of drool on my blanket. Mmm… cat slobber…


------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------