This leggy blonde has a wide variety of talents in her toolbelt, collected on the limitless road trip that was her whole first decade as an adult. Now that EWA’s legendary Sinnocence has basically handed her the keys to the Kaine kingdom– Valhalla’s manager and looking after the household as well– well, Kudzu has truly taken root, no matter Boston’s climate.
With V, most of her side of the deal is aesthetic and brand-building– from planning elaborate entrances for large events, to getting someone on shirts, oh wait maybe we could do a small line, let’s make them more refined than screenprint maybe? What was that latest snappy line he fired off that had people buzzing last week? Of course, the company will want in on some of this…
Well, let’s just say there’s plenty to do around here. Considering that V is really great at beating people up, but also probably couldn’t be trusted to run a taco stand for an evening without fucking it up, it might be a miracle that he got this far without her.
When it comes to the ring, she’ll raise the aesthetic value without leading on that she’s anything more… it’d take a lot of frustration and honing of Google search terms to filter out that lingerie modeling gig she’d grabbed for a season or the time she did Foxy Boxing… to pick up the wrestling schools she’d been attached to. You certainly wouldn’t get the urban legend stuff about some fighting ring a decade ago simply called the Circuit… and that would only be the top layer of skeletons in her closet.
When it comes to ringside, if she’s accompanying him, she’ll politely greet fans, keep out of his way… and if need be? Mule kick the everloving shit out of somebody with her fabulous and likely very painful shoes. Pull a pair of designer knucks out of her tiny handbag, rake the eyes of an opponent heedless to her fabulous stiletto manicure, whatever she might think up to “manage” the in-ring action.
For more on this character… Lilah’s dossier
This will be added soon, still writing out a scene that determines it.
- Rexall [fireman's carry into sitout reverse piledriver (Psychodriver)]
- Lanzarse [Running lifting spear dropped into a modified spinebuster) Gorilla clutch (Inverted cloverleaf)]
- Gorilla clutch (Inverted cloverleaf)
- Uranage suplex
- Swinging fisherman suplex
- Underhook suplex
- Snap suplex
- Dragon suplex
- Elevated cradle neckbreaker
- Tiger driver
- Guillotine choke
- Forearm strikes
This is always funny to write. Do I tell you what the world knows, in-character? Or do I tell you the real story?
Once upon a time, there was a teenage hooker. You could say she had fairy godparents, if a SoHo multi-bedroom apartment packed with other hookers and one “security management” guy counts as fairy godparents. She got pregnant. Those around her who were, minimally, wiser than her suggested contacting an adoption agency, which she did. Then she had the child, all those post-partum hormones flooded her system, and she took back her promise to them. Of course, she was grossly underprepared to actually keep the baby. No crib. No clothes. Not even a name to put on the birth certificate. Said fairy godparents pitched in to help on at least the material-objects front. A name was added to the certificate, tacked on as almost an afterthought.
And, of course, the magic didn’t last. It never does. What is magic, but unknown science? The science behind post-partum depression is certainly unknown to most apartments-full of hookers living in a former warehousing district in New York in the dawn of the 1980s. The teenage mother-hooker fled, leaving her son behind. The residents… well… many of them knew too well what th efoster system looked like.
They didn’t call it in. They kept the child amongst each other. There weren’t such things as mental health off days in their profession and time, but here there certainly was Volunteer Babysitting Day. Of course, that got old quickly, but if anything, that apartment had high turnover rates. Once the child was big enough to open the fridge to make his own sandwiches, he was pretty much left to his own devices. He, at least, had a room all to himself.
It’s not easy being the son of a pack of hookers. The unimaginables witnessed aside, well, the teasing at school was, of course pretty bizarre. Just getting the necessities like clothes to wear ended up leading him into his own criminal pursuits of a more theft-related category. A few friends were made, this story isn’t all low points. Mostly, though. One of those friends, even, might get murdered, not that the NYPD would care much at that point in time. For him, it lit a fire in his guts. That fire grew large enough to eat through the expectations and judgments of others, eat through happy and faith, eat through hope and ambitions and dreams. It would’ve taken all of him, if he hadn’t found ways to vent it. Among those ways, there were basement-borrowing fighting rings, with bets and pots to win.
He wasn’t very good at it, not at all. Less a pitbull, more of a bait dog. But as long as it kept him alive, he had all the time in the world to devote to learning how to do something he wasn’t very good at. He started, slowly, to gather a flicker of potential at it, even.
It was about this time that another kind of fairy godmother stepped into his life. In a back alley of his life, to be more literal– one right outside one of those basement fights, which she’d witnessed. A deal was presented, one that’d open up unfathomable opportunity in his life to succeed at this, as a career. The last career that he’d have wished for as a child, but he was right in the midst of it now and odds were, nothing else this big was coming his way for the rest of his life.
Have you ever read the original fairy tales? Disney did a mindmelting amount of prettying up Hans Christian Anderson’s version of those tales. Anderson did at leashat quTt as much prettying up of the original word-of-mouth versions he’d heard. Fairies aren’t… nice. They’re not good creatures. They’re locked to fulfill their vowed words, and that is as far as you can imagine trusting them, and even then… they’ve got centuries worth of learning how to phrase things as tactically as possible. This fairy of his, wrapped up in a red dress and swearing her resources to him over reeking dumpsters for only the price of control… owned his ass for years. He may have broken free in an act of unfathomable will, but… this creature that those modern-superstitious types would call a devil would never stop hounding his footsteps.
Not that it stopped him. He went pro. Then he went champion. The whole ride traced from 1999 all the way to July 15th, 2016. That was the day he fought the last match that felt like it had anything new to offer him, and stepped out of the spotlight and into the shadows that were always more comfortable anyhow.
That peace lasted a month and a fucking half, before his phone started dinging with text messages from a sister he’d never known. Oh yes– that teenage hooker had grown up, married, and had another child without ever looking to the one she’d left behind. He’d had to seek her out, years back. She’d been dying of cancer and out of her mind. That teenage sister who looked so heart-achingly like her, and like him for that matter, needed help.
It’s been another fucking year and change, watching from her shadows, the stumbles of a half-grown stray puppy learning to be a big dog, like he’d done. She’s got a long path in front of her. And here he’d vowed to be done with the spotlight himself… unless, of course, wrestling could show him something he’d not done already. Something fresh to break through the apathy he felt towards a career he’d never dreamed of as a kid like all the others had. It was the actions of goddamned Jada Kaine that ripped off so many scabs she might as well have skinned him alive. He’s back, and he’s not going it alone this time.
- Evolution21’s TV Champion
- Evolution21’s X Division Champion
- Evolution21’s World Heavyweight Champion (+ Triple Crown)
- Hardcore Championship Wrestling’s Heavyweight Champion
- Unleashed (The Circuit)’s Heavyweight Champion
- Unleashed (The Circuit)’s Lightweight Champion (won from Sinnocence while holding the Heavyweight Championship; merged into the United Championship)
- Platinum Dynasty Wrestling’s Platinum Championship
- Sin City Wrestling’s Vegas Championship
you’ve got mail (3.7.18)
*I Am Dissonance [w/ Cerberus & Sinnocence] (12.31.17)