Private: Genevie Carlson
Genevie looked up at the MGM Grand and rolled her eyes, letting out an annoyed sigh. It had been years since she had been contractually obligated to do any sort of promotion for the venues she worked. This just took her back to her beginner days. Where they had wanted her to scrub toilets to “pay her dues.”
She had never gone along with it and often skipped out on most of her duties but now she was older. She was wiser and she actually gave a fuck. As stupid as it may seem. She had to do SOMETHING for the people at this establishment. Else her career end up back on the shelf, AGAIN.
Hard to believe she gave up two years of her career to have children. Thinking that it was no big deal for her to take the time off. That she could just slip back into the world of wrestling like she had never left. Always thinking 4CW would be there. When she had finally been medically cleared after Maverick though? Her safety net was closed. Leaving her to look around but not trusting what was in front of her enough to slide back in for another run.
She had tried Christ Core Wrestling. Her and Eli faking their marriage still intact after they won the couples championship, but Genevie having enough of that quickly. Then there had been Murderhaus. Where she knew she would dive headfirst into one of the most brutal wrestling places out there. With the edgiest of men and women. She didn’t care. She had a lot to prove. That time didn’t matter. She could dive back in and fuck shit up as she had in the past and it was going pretty decent, until the doors closed suddenly.
She was tired of doors being slammed shut in her face. Tired of people saying she wasn’t good enough anymore. Her leaving and having children wasn’t going to be the end of her career. It wasn’t going to be the last time she held a title on her own. She had chased a World Championship long enough. It was time for her to get what she deserved. So if PRIME needed her to kiss the MGM’s ass? She would do it, but she would do it her way.
Genevie at this point had walked into the arena, her stiletto heels tapping into the concrete as she walked towards the fan seating. Looking out over the rows of seats before reaching in her pocket and pulling out several rocks. She moved them around in her hand a bit. Standing there just waiting. Eventually the people she was waiting for showed up. She smiled as a man and woman approached her. Dressed in nice pantsuits.
“Mrs. Carlson. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Genevie winced at that internally. It was no secret she no longer wanted her ex husband’s last name. Still holding on and hoping that Leo would propose and soon she could hear people say Mrs. Dawson instead. She didn’t let it show as she put a smile on her face and shook each person’s hand.
“Hello. I take it you are the ones in charge of the promotional stuff here.”
“Yes I’m-“
Genevie cut them off and shook her head.
“It doesn’t really matter what your name is. I have a contractual obligation to promote this arena at this time. So let’s get this over with. I am a mother of two and my time is very valuable.”
“Um… alright then.”
The woman standing by glared at Genevie. Something she was used to from other women. She just smiled at her and the way her lips curled up? Well it was enough for both women to know it was very fake. As a camera came out Genevie softened the smile to seem like a more sincere one, but really? She could care less about this. All a formality as a microphone came out and the man came to stand close to her and the camera started rolling.
“I’m standing here with Genevie Carlson, one of the competitors that will be competing next weekend at the MGM Grand for the first ever PRIME show. As well as the huge first round of the Almasy Memorial Tournament. She’s called us here today because she wants the fans of PRIME to know she has a very special gift for them on the night of the show. So what do you have for us?”
She held her rocks up. To most people looking at them? Ordinary and plain looking. Some had some sparkle. There was an amethyst in there as well as a rose quartz but the rest looked ordinary.
“Well. I’m not much for really promoting things in this boring fashion so I decided to have a little fun with it. For those that don’t know. I in fact am a very powerful and talented witch and I’ve decided to use those powers to help the sad and pathetic lives of the less fortunate folks aka Wrestling Fans, and more specifically the Fans that will be attending our first ever show with PRIME here at the MGM Grand.”
Her tone was very chipper for someone who was insulting the people who would be attending the show, but truthfully Genevie had learned very early on that the fan opinion changed when the wind blew so she didn’t put much stock or care into if they supported everything she did or not.
“Now I know you’re looking at my rocks here and probably assuming I’m crazy because they just look like plain rocks, but I assure you. These rocks are special, because I have infused them with a bit of magic.”
The man standing next to her seemed to be in disbelief. A huge skeptic of her claims of being a witch and obviously Thinking she was a crazy person.
“Now I’m going to walk this arena before the show and I’m gonna place these rocks under a few special seats. When the show starts check and if you have one of my rocks? Well you are very lucky indeed because each will be infused with the ability to grant you one wish. Now of course you can’t ask for someone to fall madly in love with you, or you know wish something like that dickhead Bathory or Balthazar or whatever the fuck his name is beats me.”
Genevie rolled her eyes but let out a little chuckle under her breath at those words. Of course she knew her opponents name, but nobody else needed to know that at the moment. You would be surprised at how many people get so sensitive over not acknowledging their name correctly.
“Uhhh… Okay. That sounds lovely Genevie.”
“You have no idea. Hey maybe even you can get lucky enough to find one under your seat and you can wish for a better job not having to work next to this uptight looking bitch.”
Genevie gestured over to the woman standing to the side who finally spoke up after cutting the camera off
“Okay I think we’ve got all that we need. Thank you for that lovely tidbit. I’m sure the children will love the rocks.”
“Well if a child gets one of my rocks I’m sure they will. Don’t be surprised when the stands are filled with ice cream and ponies if that’s the case, but thank you all so much for your time. I mean a lot of the fans are poor, and desperate so even the chance that my rocks can give them something better is enough promotion to fill every one of these seats. The whole fact I’m wrestling is the next treat for them.”
Genevie’s phone started ringing in her pocket and she held a finger up as a smile came across her face as she answered the phone.
“Hello my love. Oh of course.. I was just leaving this meeting thing. I’m on my way.”
Genevie waved at the people from MGM Grand that she hadn’t even taken the time to get to know their names before placing her rocks back into the pockets of her coat and walking out. Letting the sound of her stilettos echo as they hit the concrete with each step she took.
——————————————
The scene is not that special of a scene when the cameras come alive. A simple classroom. With rows of desks where normally children would sit and learn sat completely empty. Towards the front of the room was a long desk that normally a teacher would be seated at but instead Genevie Carlson sat on the edge.
She was wearing a white button up shirt, and a brown plaid mini skirt. She had large boots that went all the way up to her knees and her hair was held back by a ponytail. She wore big, black and obviously fake glasses on her face. Much like you would expect her boyfriend Leo Dawson to wear when he was playing Clark Kent for Batgirl. Seriously if you haven’t checked it out you should do that at some point.
Behind her was a giant screen pulled down. The lights were off but the room was lit by the projector screen behind her. She crossed her legs and placed her hands on her knee. Smiling for the camera.
“Hello ladies and Gentleman, and welcome to Class. I’m your instructor Genevie Carlson. Today we are going to learn about Cult Leaders and why they are a big bunch of Failures. Now I don’t feel the need to drone on and on with a big shitty speech, so let’s just get into the cult leaders.. like first. David Koresh.”
With a wave of Genevie’s hand towards the screen a picture of David Koresh appeared. Almost as if she had conjured it up, but if you looked closely in her hand there was something there that probably had brought the screen up.
“Now David Koresh lead the Branch Davidians. You know those crazy fucks in Waco, Texas who just built a stockpile of guns and shit and claimed to be building an army of god? I know, shocking that I even had to say it was in Texas.”
She waved her hand a few more times as silent videos played in the background. Almost like a montage of shit from the Waco incident.
“Now of course this man had people worship, idolize and follow him blindly through everything. Lead to a standoff with the ATF that lasted like 50 some odd days of bullshit. Getting so many people needlessly killed in the process and how did this all end you might ask?”
Another wave of her hand and the screen went to the infamous scene of the building up in flames. She sighed and shook her head.
“Well so much for that army of god. The place went up in flames and Koresh was such a coward he put a bullet in his head. Afraid of what his failures would lead to outside the walls of his precious cult.”
Genevie had a moment of silence before hopping off the desk and waving her hand to show the next cult leader. Charles Manson. She clapped her hands and laughed under her breath as she began to pace back and forth continuing to talk.
“Oh we all know this little guy. Charles Manson. Who created the cult of The Family. Over one hundred hippies banding together and living in piss poor conditions because this man right here told them there was a brighter and bigger future for them all. Well they were hippies so they really didn’t care regardless.”
Genevie shook her head in disgust. Sure she was in a way a child of the earth and respected it now after discovering her own power, but that was one thing. This kind of hippie was another.
A wave of her hand again and another montage ran across the screen. This time showing Manson and the Family and even some crime scene photos and silent videos of members.
“Now Charles Manson lead these dumbass hippies through the use of hallucinogenic drugs and other things to believe that in fact was like Jesus or something and that because of the Beatles song Helter Skelter we needed a race war.”
Genevie cringed at that. It was still blowing her mind people blindly followed things like this.
“So a bunch of people went and killed Sharon Tate and a bunch of her friends and tried to make it look like black people did it to start a race war. It wasn’t successful. I know, shocking right? Almost like all these people have a common theme. Just this one ended a bit different. Manson didn’t kill himself. He just rotted in prison until death.”
The image behind her turned to one of the last photos taken of Manson before he died, and yes the man looked rather rough at the time. She just laughed at the photo. Waving her hand to make it go away and to have her last cult leader pulled up. Jim Jones.
“I don’t think I need to do much more for you guys to get what I’m getting at or why this might be relevant to PRIME, but let’s do one more. Just in case you need it. Third times a charm right? Probably the most tragic, and infamous Cult Leader to ever really exist. Jim Jones.”
Just like before the images and silent videos played while Genevie walked to the side to watch the video play for a few seconds. Letting out a sigh before she spoke again, shaking her head.
“Jim Jones was a man who really had it all. More successful than David or Charles could have ever hoped to be before everything came crashing down. He lead the Peoples Temple. Over nine hundred members followed him. Lived in a community that he created called Jonestown in South America. They worshiped him. Listened to every word he said and then… Everything came crashing down.”
The image flashed to more graphic content of bodies and terrible images from Jonestown. Genevie took a moment of silence as she hung her head and took a deep breath before lifting it back up and speaking again.
“He felt threatened when people wanted to leave. When they lost their faith in him. When reporters started snooping around and people came looking for their family members that had been brain washed. No instead of just letting those people go. He decided that all of his followers had to feed their kids, their loved ones, and themselves cyanide flavored punch. Convinced them it would be quick and painless. That they would all be raped and murdered if they didn’t do this. Well none of them died quick or painless and in the end? Jones was too much of a coward to do what he asked of his own people. Leaving someone else to shoot him. This man is a fucking pussy bitch.”
Genevie slapped her hand on the screen as the image paused on Jim Jones and then as she waved her hand it was just as quickly gone. The projector shut off and Genevie walked to the desk in the dark lighting a few candles as she removed the chair from it. Letting her frame be illuminated from the lighting from the candles and the little bit that came through the uncovered windows.
“Now. What does that have to do with my upcoming match at ReViVal or whatever, Class?”
Genevie looked out at the row of empty desks before sighing.
“Fine I’ll tell you. Well Mr. Bathhouse prides himself on being somewhat of a cult leader and I just can’t help but laugh at the notion. I’ve been around the wrestling scene for years. I’ve seen so many people pop up claiming to be the darkest and baddest mother Fuckin cult leader to ever do it. They all have one thing in common. They failed to succeed. Just like Koresh, Manson, Jones and the million other famous cult leaders who never quite got to be worshipped or accomplished their goals in the end.”
Genevie removed her glasses and threw them down on the table. She just couldn’t believe she was back to this already. First round of the tournament and already it was the same old tired shit she had been dealing with for years.
“I’m here to tell you Batarang. You won’t be any different than the people on that screen over there. You all are exactly the same. Sporting a vision too big and unrealistic to obtain. Who gives a shit if you have followers or teachers that help you along in the goal. It’s twenty twenty-two. Anyone with a ring light, smartphone, and access to social media can build a cult like following and be worshipped. You aren’t anything fucking special.”
“I’ve been doing this a long time and I’ve faced a million people just like you. Just like I’m sure you must have crossed paths with a loud mouth bitch or two like me, but honestly? None are as driven as I am now. If you think you’re scary or intimidating? You don’t know me very well. What I’ve endured. The pain and misery I’ve inflicted on others. More than physical. It’s all psychological too baby, just ask my ex husband.”
She smirked at that. Truthfully she had put Eli through a lot of pain and misery in the end but it wasn’t like it was one sided. Marriages took two people to make work, and two to make them fall apart. He wasn’t innocent but that shit didn’t matter right now. What mattered in the grand scheme of that was proving him wrong that she’d be forever in his shadow.
That of course she could be a World Champion and she didn’t need him to achieve that. As these thoughts raced through her brain she felt anger build inside of her. The flame from the candles burned in her eyes as she stared intently in the camera before she rested her palms on the desk in front of her and leaned forward towards the camera.
“Now I get this is the Almasy.. Almond Joy Memorial fucking tournament. I get I should say sorry for everyone’s loss and that I respect this man for paving the way here, but the truth of the matter is? I don’t. I give zero fucks what this tournament is called. All I care about is what’s at the end of it. I have won so many championships in my time, but a World Title? It has always eluded me. So close but never quite actually getting there. I joined this tournament for me, my kids, and to prove something to the entire industry? That I’m not yesterdays news. Im the past, present, and future of this whole god damn business. When I walk in the room? You will fucking stand at attention and you will give me the respect I deserve.”
Genevie had built a long resume up over the years to get the respect she felt she deserved. For a while she felt like she did, but of course when you leave for two years the world keeps spinning. People keep stepping up and it makes it hard to keep remembering what people did that haven’t been around in a while. This was about her build back. The climb was never going to be easy.
Genevie could have chose any company but she chose Prime, because she knew it was difficult. She knew she’d have to bring her best. Was she going to tell her opponents that? Fuck no. If she failed was she going to show them respect? Again. Fuck No. In fact. If she got fucked over she already had the curses ready for the dipshits that wanted to fuck around with her and find out.
“I don’t give a fuck who stands across from me. I don’t care how many rounds of the toughest, edgiest, roughest bitches I gotta go through. I ain’t stopping until that bell rings and I hold that title above my head, and Bathory? You may think you’re stepping into the ring with a pretty face, but I’m going to show you that I am more than you could have ever bargained for. I’m not stepping in the ring with you and to feel intimidated. You’re stepping into it with me and when I’m in there? I run that shit, and in the end I’m gonna leave you to follow in the cult leader fucking hall of fame… with nothing to show the world except your failure.”
With one final smirk at the camera Genevie kissed her fingers and blew a kiss to the camera. It was something she had created like a signature in years past, before leaning forward and blowing out the candles leading things to end in blackness.