Anna Daniels…is not the “feeler” in the Daniels clan.
I know, right? Shocker. It’s not like the Multitudes don’t have feelings. They have plenty of them, stuffed away in the depths. But the social training of her old home had prevented the dealing of said feelings. To be what she is means to be logical. The brain is the conqueror of the hearts, ruler and master of everything. That’s the way it has to be. Gotta push away such things to get the job done, whatever that is. The time for feelings comes later. Or never. Whichever comes first. At this point in the game, so much of it is stockpiled in the vessel that it is frightening. It was the ticking time bomb of frustration built up over centuries finally blowing up that caused the Multitudes to stop hiding in the first place. And when that happened, all hell broke loose.
Emotion, especially extreme emotion, only drives you to lash out horribly and leaves whoever you haven’t pushed away in your rage to wonder what in the fuck happened. It wasn’t like she could even answer that question even if asked. It would be difficult to answer now. If there could be an explanation, the closest thing would be
“We’re so done being disrespected and we refuse to take it anymore.”
Frustration and anger ran through her as the feeler stood bewildered. Jacky Rex Daniels tried to calm her down in that instant. But at that point, telling his wife to calm down was like telling a lit power keg to not take several city blocks along with it. When the smoke cleared, the woman he somehow fell madly in love with was replaced by a burning heart and steely eyes willing to single handedly tear apart anything and anyone that so much as tried to sling an insult her way. It’s hard to catch up with a whirlwind like that. That’s the danger of caring. Caring about what other people think. Caring about your reputation. When you care, you lose. When you care, they win. While the short term aftermath contained glory, the long term effects were confusion.
“What are we now?”
It is the question that has been haunting her the entire time. Shoved aside like the wasteland of feelings in her gut. What Jacky confronts away from the spotlight, Anna distracts herself from within the spotlight. Two different people, two different ways of dealing. Yet lately, she has been sitting beside him in the early morning doing what one culture calls “meditation” and another “contemplative prayer”. Ultimately, the basic building blocks are the same.
Focus on the breath.
Focus on the core.
One hand is held by the other. Electricity. There is an emptyness-yet-fullness, a nothing-yet-something going on there. Always was. It’s so easy to just languish in the dark in despair over what could’ve been or should’ve been. It’s easy to get pissed right off over all the stories you try to start only for them all to fall apart within 2.5 seconds of writing the first letter. It would be so easy to try to start another one and watch that one disintegrate between the fingers. But why bother?
No. There isn’t much of a point of getting your hopes up. Can’t have faith in the world. It’ll disappoint you every damn time. Instead, you go the opposite direction of the world. You zig where they zag. You don’t create something that goes to nothing. You…
The vessel’s eyes snap open. They look over and see one of their counterparts open. An easy smile graces his features. The Aussie accent follows.
“You figured out something.”
A smirk slinks upon her face.
“More like a puzzle piece just arrived.”
We have come to a realization. Cecilworth Farthington and us aren’t as different as we seem on the surface.
He’s already made his position clear, his love and romance for the game. His beating heart on the line every time for his Juliet. In our own ways, we used to be quite the same and even though she isn’t our main squeeze anymore, we would be lying if we said there isn’t some feelings left there. How could there not be? One does a certain job long enough, it becomes a part of you. Inside of you like a deadly disease. It becomes a part of your identity. So when the bottom drops out and you have to stop, it’s hard to turn it off.
As for us, we are slowly easing into a friends with benefits relationship with professional wrestling. Wrestling uses us to prolong her life and we are going to use her for self-expression and profit. The feelings never really changed so much as we see dear sweet Juliet for what she is: an abusive, fickle tramp. Especially here. It seems like every time we walk backstage, we’re tripping onto some old timers from Ancient PRIME or another dead promotion with the contract ink and their dicks still wet wondering if they got what it takes because no matter how much they try, they can’t quite get over the one that got away. Every five seconds, there’s a new face that gets a cuppa and a match before getting thrown out ass over teakettle right back to Woop Woop. And even if some people on this roster don’t want to admit it, we can smell it in the air. The desperation and fear that you aren’t going to mean a thing anymore or, worse yet, that Anna Daniels might actually be right.
Now we don’t claim to be batting a thousand. Sometimes, we see curveballs that never get thrown. It happens. But on the large scale, we’re a solid switch hitter. The majority of the shit we have said to you that has come to pass wasn’t even us seeing into the future or even the past. It was and will usually be us looking at the here and now, the moment, the Blessed Zeitgeist and telling you “hey, this is how the current seems to be going”. In other words, dear PRIMEverse, we tell you the truth. When you guys made the jokes about “oh, this place is a carbine harvester har har”, none a single one of you dumbfucks have considered the possibility that one day those blades would be coming for you.
You thought you would be evergreen. You never gave a single thought as to how to be evergreen. We have been mangled by the mechnations of this machine long enough to know that we have two choices. We either evolve or die. We can almost hear a certain somebody now.
“B-but Anna! You never changed!”
Okay, crybaby. Just because you don’t want to see it doesn’t mean it’s not there. Just because you bury your head in the sand doesn’t mean the threat is gone. It just means you made the decision to delude yourself.
When we saw our match for this ReVival, we heard something in the back of our head. Specifically, it was a quote from a vtuber by the name of Inugami Korone. It was an English only stream and being Japanese, the English was cute and a bit wonky. Many quotes got turned into memes. She was playing Mario, World 8-4, and saw the lines of fireball that were under the water. In that moment, she asked “water in the fire, why?” Such was her confusion for something so ridiculous that she couldn’t help but verbalize it. Such was our confusion upon seeing our name linked once again against Kenny Freeman that we could not help but remember it.
It’s true that Randall Schwartz poked us in the eyes in front of the ref like a fucking idiot which handed us a DQ win. Then he had the nerve to act proud over screwing over his partner. We were irritated for, like, a day. Then we got over it because we really need to teach ourself that being irritated over morons being morons is just as pointless as…well, everything else around here. It’s one thing to be stupid. It’s one thing to be caught. It’s a whole other kettle of fish to get caught being stupid thus screwing your partner and then acting smug about it like you actually did something worthwhile instead of being an embarrassment. With all due respect to his Red Army comrades, we would like to break his kneecaps and giggle at his suffering. But unfortunately, he is in the shark cage and Kenny is back to getting his ass kicked.
Water in the fire. Why?
And while we’re at it, where is Lord Kurosame-sama when we need him? If the man is going to be in a shark cage, the shark man should be tormenting him. Fair is fair.
Beyond all of that, we have no feelings one way or the other for Kenny. He may be a fellow multiverse jumper, a faux-communist, and in War Games because why not. But he and Randall both live on the edges of PRIME. They haven’t truly been the focus of anything since the tag division died. For the most part, they just exist to fight and be fought. However, they were at the very least smart enough to link themselves with others. They could sense the tide of chaos and had the foresight to seek safe harbor. If nothing else, the power of self-preservation compels them. That being said, self-preservation and all of its tricks can only take somebody so far. Especially against somebody willing to risk theirs and yours.
Water in the fire. Why?
We have always been an inquisitive child. Even before we entered the vessel and before the vessel was exposed to us, our entire entity has always asked why. We have always wondered over the why. We would ask our superiors and they would give an answer. That answer may satisfy for a time before we come back to it and come up with another why to ponder over. All intelligent
(and in the case of you humans, semi-intelligent)
species tend to have a certain hate of the questioning mind. They can only tolerate so much before blowing up in anger over their own ignorance. None of us have ever been told that it is perfectly okay to say “I don’t know”. We hate not knowing and we especially despise being reminded that we don’t know. If there’s anything that serves as that reminder with speed and brutality, it is somebody asking questions, wanting conversations, and ultimately coming into the opposite conclusion to ideas many put their blind faith in. We have been questioning why Kenny Freeman again? Who in the hell could he have possibly pissed off?
But like everything else in PRIME, the why ultimately doesn’t matter.
The past is dead, the future is multiple choice, and both give us headaches. So if it’s all the same to you, we’re going to push away our questioning for the moment. There’s a chain of fire under the sea, another obstacle amongst the bloopers moving around just beyond its reach. An unchanging Anna Daniels would keep questioning, get angry, see this as an insult. Maybe have flashbacks to long decayed rivals. None of that has gotten us anywhere. It doesn’t take us forward. It didn’t make us reach our goals here. None of that means anything.
Fighting Kenny Freeman is not an insult. Fighting Kenny Freeman once more isn’t a joke. Fighting Kenny Freeman is far from a waste even if deep down, most of you believe it to be so. This is not a downgrade, Kenneth. It is an honor and a privilege to be standing across this ring without your little buddy trying to make a fool out of himself off of both of our expense. Do you know why?
Because it is an opportunity to create. Each time we get into the ring is a chance to make yourself and your opponent. It is both tug-of-war and the one pottery scene from Ghost. It is struggle and it is beauty. It is meaningless and it will be given meaning. Multiple, in fact. And if you so choose, Kenny, you won’t be bound to any of them. Randall ruined that last time because he doesn’t understand it. He was trying to create himself at your expense. Not ours.
Don’t be a pussy. Just…fight. That’s all.