Identity

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Off Camera

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Fire is the most beautiful weapon of them all. It shines with all its glory.  The warmth along with the welcoming feel it gives but as you slowly approach it snarls and bites. Everything you love could be gone in minutes, due to a single nip.  The flame has no culture, no pity, no mind, yet it consumes whatever it pleases. Its only criteria is if it can take it and reduce it to ash or something molten and foul, then it will. The flames burn hot, short and violent, with no care what will be left behind.  These flames will become the weapon of young Jessica Lasiewicz-Jones.

Jessica Jones has gone by many names throughout the duration of her life up until now.  Her parents, legendary professional wrestlers Angelica Jones and Andreas Lasiewicz, have won twenty six world champions between themselves and have been inducted in multiple halls of fame; so to say that Jessica has high expectations set upon her simply due to her familial ties is quite obvious.  Her birth name was Jessica Corey Lasiewicz-Jones but that meant nothing to Jessica.

Even at a young age, Jessica had a strong moral compass; stronger than any of her half-siblings from her mother’s side.  When she witnessed her half-sister, Marie Annabelle Jones, sell her soul to the devil incarnate on more than one occasion simply to achieve a shortcut to the top she grew jaded towards her Jones heritage and went by Jessica Lasiewicz, thinking her father perhaps would be better.  But the more she saw his association with the faction known as The Godfathers of Wrestling, the more she grew jaded with him as well.  And when approached by her half-sister Marie, who had recently had a change of heart, about redeeming the maternal family name, she went back to Jones; Corey Jones to be precise, and together Marie and Corey were known as Redemption.

Together the half-siblings, both daughters of Angelica Jones, attempted to redeem the family name, but they quickly learned it would be easier said than done.  People create preconceived notions that are damn near impossible to change.  Actions of their mother, Angelica Jones, didn’t help matters.  Once again she grew jaded with the mission and changed her identity…

…The Archangel.  Instead of focusing on one family or the other, she focused simply on being an instrument of justice throughout the industry.  It worked for awhile but now people are beginning to doubt her sincerity, and these doubts lead to doubts from Jessica herself.  And these identity changes are but a few of the many she has undergone:

The Last Jones Standing.

Lady Gambit.

She was even a cheerleader valet for several months.

Just who is this woman the wrestling world knows as Jessica Lasiewicz-Jones?  It’s a question that Jessica herself does not have the answers to.  Perhaps in an act of desperation, perhaps in a knee-jerk reaction, Jessica has decided to send it all up in flames.

All of it.  Gone.

She throws the match onto the wood pile that has been doused in kerosene.  The fire flashed into existence in a wash of red and yellow sparks. Like the beauty of running water so unearthly. Yet it has a dangerous beauty. They fire leaping up, picking up speed like a river does tributaries. The fire held its head up regally and proudly as its destruction spread while glowering at the surrounding daring them to challenge its awesome power. It ate everything in its path. Yellow, red and orange. The colors of autumn; yet can autumn cause so much destruction.

Flickering, weaving under the spell it was sparked into. A shrieking ray of melting gas purges out of the flame's capturing heat. It can be told that once the strongest of cornerstones were illuminated into molten when in communion of such a harmful object of division but only the purest could make its identity out as courage, sound mind. It holds the power to give to anyone a harness of strong armies and a hope of a new beginning.

Jessica stood entranced by its beautiful depths.  The fire licked at his out reached out towards her but she stood at a safe distance away so as to avoid its burning power.  The flame seemed turned her skin a brilliant shade of blue, spitting its rage as the wind came through in rapid bursts.  Never once did she shy away from the precious heat. This certain fire was like a mirror, for they were the same, bursting as life took its unexpected turns. Blooming as they were given more to thrive under. And then, one day they would all fade away, into golden embers. The dying of a fire that used to shine so brightly.

Crimson anger arose from the burning blaze. Struggling to stay lit all the fury burst out as if it devoured the wood hungrily expressing all its rage and wrath.  The victims of the fire’s wrath happens to be the very memories of Jessica Lasiewicz-Jones, who stares entranced at the flame.  Next to her is a pile of belongings, each of which represent an identity.

The redhead bends over and picks up a picture of her from her days as Lady Gambit.  Then she was sporting her natural black hair and dressed as similar to her father, the original “Gambit” Andreas Lasiewicz, as she possibly could.  In this picture she is hoisting the FWA Xtreme Championship, a title she won after a hard fought battle that included one of her close allies Laurel Anne Hardy.  FWA was created after the first fall of Motor City Wrestling.  Now FWA has fallen and it is Motor City Wrestling that looks to return and Jessica looks to be a part of that return.

On the first Mayhem she will compete against Abigail Lindsey and Trinity Street.  This will be a closely contested match, as all three ladies have world titles to their name.  This, easily, could be the show stealer of the night.

Those are thoughts for the future.  Right now Jessica is focusing on the past and her stare is directed intensely at the picture in her right hand.  It isn’t long until she tosses that picture into the fire.  Jessica watches the flames engulf the picture and slowly but surely eat away, turning it to nothing but ash.

Jessica bends over and picks up the next item from the heap.  It’s a cheerleading uniform.  This one sports of the colors of Boston College.  Jessica was legitimately a cheerleader once, for Duke University, but these aren’t Duke’s colors nor is it Duke’s uniform.  Why she has this uniform is known only to her…

…and one other person very close to Jessica.

“What are you going to do with that?”

Jessica doesn’t even bother to turn around.  The voice she hears is a very familiar one.  It’s a voice she hears every day.  She would know it anywhere, for it is the voice that calms her own inner rage.  It’s the voice of her husband, Kyle Butler.

“What does it look like I’m going to do to it, Kyle?”

“It looks like you’re going to burn it.”

“You’re right.  Is there anything wrong with that?”

“No, not really.  Honestly, I’m surprised you kept it this long.”

Jessica takes in a deep breath, sighs, and then lets it out.  The Archangel shakes her head.

“I should never have kept it.  There was a time I thought that holding onto the past was worthwhile.  I thought that if we didn’t learn from the mistakes of the past we would be doomed to repeat them.  And perhaps there is some truth to that.  That is the only reason I kept this uniform for so long.”

She turns around to face Kyle.  Her husband stands there in denim jeans and a t-shirt.  Jessica stares at him with a cold, emotionless look etched across her face.

“This uniform represents an embarrassing, humiliating identity.  This identity was hoisted upon me not by my own choosing but by YOU…”

Lasiewicz-Jones points an accusatory finger at Kyle.

“…you and Neil Newman.  But it wasn’t entirely your fault, because not long after that identity was forced upon me, I quit resisting and I began to revel in my role as your personal cheerleader.”

Kyle Butler remembers this all too well.  This was back in Global Championship Wrestling.  He was teaming with Neil Newman in a match against Jessica and her tag team partner Summer Collins.  If Jessica and Summer managed to win, Kyle and Neil would have to retire but if Neil and Kyle won, Jessica and Summer would be forced to become their personal cheerleaders.  Jessica did eventually gain her freedom and the two teams even gained a mutual respect for another, but it wasn’t after a very bad period of time for all parties involved.

“Yeah, that wasn’t exactly my proudest of moments.”

“No, no it wasn’t.  It wasn’t my proudest moment, either.  That is why I am going to end this memory once and for all.”

Jessica turns back towards the flames.   She tosses the Boston College cheerleading uniform into the fire.  Jones watches it burn with a stoic gaze, emotionless.  It is hard to read her thoughts at this moment.  It is hard to determine what exactly she is thinking right now.

Her husband Kyle breaks from his thoughts, mixed with feelings of guilt, to look down at the pile of other items remaining to be burned by Jessica Lasiewicz-Jones.  He notices a deck of playing cards and another cheerleading uniform, this time her Duke uniform.

“Jess, you can’t just get rid of a memory by burning any and all signs of its existence.”

He touches her forehead.

“The memory still exists there, whether you want to admit it or not.”

He bends over and picks up the deck of cards and the Duke cheerleading uniform.

“And are you seriously going to burn these?”

“Yes, I am.  Why shouldn’t I?”

Kyle waves the playing cards in Jessica’s face.

“For starters, this is your favorite deck.  Your dad gave them to you for your birthday one year.”

Kyle shoves the uniform into Jessica’s arms.

“And you LOVE Duke.  You got your college education from Duke University and you were on their cheerleading squad.  You did all that while, at the same time, beginning your wrestling career.   That is something to be admired, not burned.  But if you want to burn it…”

He motions to the flames that seem to be eager for its next meal.

“…then be my guest.”

Jessica gazes at the Duke uniform and then at the flames.  Her tense, stoic appearance finally begins to break as she starts to show some emotion, specifically tears forming in her eyes.

“You don’t get it, Kyle.  You just don’t understand what it’s like to not have an identity all your own.  I’m either Angelica’s daughter or Andreas’s daughter and I’m expected to be just as good as them.  Or I’m your and Neil’s personal cheerleader.  Or now, this new identity I gave myself, I’m The Archangel, an agent of justice in professional wrestling.”

She shakes her head.

“And I’m not even certain that is true.  So many believe I am in league with the very villains I fight against, and maybe there is some truth to it…”

Jessica sighs.

“…my father had his running buddies, first The REC and later The Godfathers of Wrestling.  My mom ran with Apocalypse and Silas World.  Would the apple not fall far from the tree?  So maybe this whole Archangel crap is nonsense too.”

She looks towards the flames.

“And maybe it’s time to end it all.”

“So that’s it?  You want to burn everything and start over with a blank slate?”

Jessica nods her head.

“Pretty much, yes.”

Kyle places a comforting hand on his wife’s shoulder.

“I know you want to find your identity, I get it, but this isn’t the way to do it.  You can’t just burn the past and forget it ever happened.  It’s like you said, if you don’t learn from the mistakes of the past then you are doomed to repeat them.  What Neil and I did to you and Summer was a mistake, but it was through that mistake that we met one another and eventually got married.  Is our marriage a mistake?”

“No.”

“Is your education from Duke University a mistake?”

“No.”

“Your parents have made mistakes, but they are two of the all-time greats and they taught you a great deal about wrestling.  Hell, they taught you everything you know.  Would you want to give up that knowledge?”

“No.”

Kyle embraces his wife Jessica in a tight hug.  After breaking the hug he gazes deep into her loving eyes.

“See what I mean?  Not all of this is bad.  You need to take the good and the bad and learn from it all.  All of this has shaped you and helped you become who you really and truly are.”

Tears are flowing freely down Jessica’s cheek now as she takes Kyle’s words to heart.

“And who is that?  Who am I, Kyle?”

“You are Jessica Lasiewicz-Jones.  You are The Archangel.”

Despite the tears Jessica laughs, hugging the cheerleading uniform from Duke tightly to her chest.

“I guess I don’t want to get rid of this one after all…”

Kyle hands her the deck of playing cards.

“And you are NOT getting rid of these until I have finally beaten you in a game of poker.”

Jessica chuckles.

“In that case I’ll never get rid of them because you know as well as I do that no one beats me in poker.”

Kyle winks.

“Except your dad, right?”

Jessica rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, right, except him…”

 

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On Camera

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Black clouds sprawl across the sky, billowing in from the west. Their brassy glare drains colour from houses and trees and burnished cars in driveways, leaving neighbourhoods tinted bronze in the faltering light. The air grows heavy and the humidity presses down, suffocating. The scent of rain is dark and heady. A stillness falls over the street, and in the silence comes a low crackle of thunder, rolling across rooftops to the pattering of tiny raindrops. For a moment, everything stops. Even the wind holds its breath. A streak of hot silver splits the sky, and the downpour begins.The boom rolled across the valley.  The boughs of the trees swayed in the strengthening gust, surrendering their fall leaves without a fight.On the far hill a jagged bolt of white hot lightening splits the chilly sky, and then it is gone. The thunder is only a second behind.

There was a mutter of thunder from the blackened sky as the wind tore leaves from the trees. The rain lashed down, torrential, unforgiving.  Still, despite this, we see a female figure emerging in the torrent.  She’s dressed in dark colors so it is difficult to tell who this is, just that her silhouette is female.  Another series of streaks of lightning nearer to this individual tells us that we are dealing with a woman in black leather pants, a black shirt, and a black trenchcoat.  There is a hood on the coat so as to protect her head from the rain.

Luckily for her, the rain does not last must longer.  Slowly but surely it subsides to not much more than a sprinkling.  The thunder and lightning remain.

“And on the third day he rose from the dead, and ascended into heaven…”

Streaks of pure white crackled against a stormy blanket of grey, shrouding hot silver clouds with its blinding incandescence, emanating the might of an imminent tempest. Jagged bolts endlessly protrude, filling the sky with undying flashes of radiance.

“…this is the creed spoken of by Christians everywhere on a daily basis.  Just as Christ rose from the dead, now Motor City Wrestling rises from the dead, greeted by some familiar faces, faces such as Rayne Young and Jacob Laymon and Kirsta Lewis.”

The thunder rolled overhead like the fury of the gods. It tumbled toward them through the darkened clouds.

“But there are new faces…Trinity Street, the Matriarch of Monarchy.  Abigail Lindsey, a woman who you never know quite for sure what she will do…”

A bolt of white hot lightning broke the utter blackness, cleaving the night in parts, but just for the briefest of moments.  Then the lightning once more jagged across the night sky ripping the once peaceful sky like paper.  We can now see the face of this individual clear as day.

“…then you have me, ‘The Archangel’ Jessica Lasiewicz-Jones.  Who am I, MCW?  What am I here for?  I’ll get to the second question in a moment but to answer the first, all you need to do is look at my parents.  I am the daughter of “The Polish Spirit”, “The Gambit”, “The Silver Eagle”, and any other nicknames I’m sure I forgot…his name is Andreas Lasiewicz and he is a thirteen time world champion.  I am the daughter of “Firestar”, “The Golden Goddess”, “The Dragon” Angelica Jones, also a thirteen time world champion.”

In a sudden and somewhat shocking turn of events, the lightning comes to an abrupt end but the thunder still remains.  A slight but somewhat dim light shines overtop of Jessica Lasiewicz-Jones, showing her in her full glory as she points a finger at the camera.

“Angelica Jones is a member of YOUR Hall of Fame.  Still, you may not know me.  I never was a part of Motor City Wrestling.  I was a part of Future Wrestling Alliance shortly after MCW’s first downfall.  I defeated Dakota Smith and Laurel Anne Hardy to become the FWA Xtreme Champion during the FWA vs. MCW era.  I may not be an MCW original, but my connection to this great comp any exists, my respect for its legacy and reputation is unquestioned, and now I am here in MCW all on my own ready to make my own impact, which brings me to question number two…”

She holds up two fingers.

“…what am I doing here in MCW?  The answer to that lies within the rest of the creed…”

Jessica shuts her eyes.

“...and he sits at the right hand of God the Father Almighty, from thence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead.”

She opens her eyes.

“For far too long athletes in this sport have done whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted to do it and they did it without any consequence.  They did it freely without worry of management issuing any semblance of a reprimand.  Professional wrestling has been nothing but chaos and anarchy in an asylum run by the lunatics and psychopaths.”

Jones shakes her head.

“Anarchy is no longer going to be the rule of the day.  Chaos will no longer be the status quo.  I am hereby putting anarchy and chaos on notice.  The Archangel stands as judge, jury, and executioner of those who believe they can do anything they want in professional wrestling without consequence, because if management refuses to punish the wrongdoers…”

She smirks nastily, evilly.  There is almost a hint of a flame entering her eyes.

“…then I will personally be the one who judges them, finds them guilty, and executes them before the Lord their God!  Justice isn’t always as swift as we would like it to be and justice doesn’t always come in the manner that we expect it to, sometimes the justice comes in the form of a legal mechanism and other times justice comes in the form of spiritual karma, but justice always comes.  You cannot stop it and you cannot stop me.  You cannot stop The Archangel from being the instrument of justice in Motor City Wrestling.”

She narrows her gaze, looking more and more intense.

“Abigail Lindsey, if there is anyone who epitomizes the terms chaos and anarchy it would be you.  Look up either term in the dictionary and I would dare say we could find your picture.  You’ve always done whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted.  But then again, that’s the Lohan way, right?  And as a Jones I should know, the Jones family and the Lohan family have always been close.  I do not dislike any of you, nor do I hold any grudge against any of you, but Dawn is the only one of you I trust, because you Abigail, just like Brittany, thrives upon chaos.”

Jones shakes her head.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Abigail, but the era of chaos is over.  I am going to personally kill it even if I have to go through each and every agent of chaos myself.”

Jessica smirks.

“Yet, the more I think about it, the more I wonder if you have lost a little bit of your touch.  I have to ask, are you the same chaotic, anarchical Abigail Lindsey that was once IWC World Champion…”

She throws her head back and laughs.

“Ah yes, that’s right, you were the IWC World Champion.  I remember that reign quite well.  Believe it or not, I was happy for you.  Sad that my sister didn’t win, but I was still happy that you earned your first world title.  But do you know what still, to this day, remains a black mark on that title reign of yours?  The fact that the great Abigail Lindsey was a pathetic black eye sporting underling at best, slave at worst, to Cindy Todd.  You were supposedly the world champion, the best wrestler in the world, and you called someone else Queen?  It makes me question not only if you’ve gone soft, but if you really are that same agent of chaos that everyone feared.”

Jessica shrugs her shoulders.

“I do hope I’m wrong, Abigail, and Mayhem is your opportunity to prove me wrong.  But until proven otherwise, I will continue to question.”

Jones grows more and more serious as she focuses on the camera, gazing deep into the lenses.

“There is one individual who I have no doubt is still as tough as she ever was and that is my other opponent on Mayhem, Trinity Street.  You cause chaos but in a very different way from Abigail.  You cause chaos in an attempt to gain power, because you think you know better than everyone else, because you think you are better than everyone else.  And yet as good as you are, you still needed people to watch your bag, to protect your ass and make sure you got what you wanted.  Hell, back when you were in SCW, you didn’t just have a version of Monarchy in that company, but you had a version of Monarchy in every company.”

She holds up one finger.

“SCW.”

She holds up two fingers.

“IWC.”

She holds up three fingers.

“Hell, Monarchy even sent a representative to GCW.  I know because I beat her ass for the GCW International Championship.  Your delicately manicured fingertips were poking and prodding their way through every aspect of professional wrestling.  Finally you were ousted from SCW thanks to a daring, if not suicidal, stipulation from CHBK.  But while Monarchy may be no more, your impact remains and now you look to make your impact upon Motor City Wrestling.”

Jessica smirks.

“You don’t need the backup.  I know it, you know it, the rest of the world knows it.  That’s why it irritates so many people that you put together these groups to back you up, these groups to help you gain power.  You don’t need it because you can achieve it on your own without their help.”

She chuckles lightly.

“Is that a sign of doubt?  Surely the great Trinity Street does not lack self-confidence?  Regardless, I will not judge you yet on what you do in Motor City Wrestling.  I won’t even judge Abigail on what she does in Motor City Wrestling.  This is a new day, a new era, and a chance for everyone to begin again.  And it is my honor and distinct privilege to stand in that ring with both of you fine athletes.  It really doesn’t matter which match gets the main event label, the fact is that when you have the three of us in the same ring at the same time, you have not just a main event but a dream match and everyone knows it.”

Jones holds up one finger.

“But there is one thing you both should understand.  I am nothing like my mother and I am nothing like my father.  Neither of you have dealt with anyone quite like me before.  You can call me Jessica Jones or Jessica Lasiewicz or Lady Gambit or anything else.  The name doesn’t matter, it is the identity that matters.  My identity is The Archangel.  That is who I am and that is what I do.  What is right and just will be defended.  The honor and prestige of Motor City Wrestling will no longer be soiled by liars and manipulators.  MCW is back, MCW will be restored, and MCW will be gold forever…”

She shuts her eyes.

“…so says The Archangel…”

The camera fades to black.