The Other Side of Honor

Standing outside the Bismarck Municipal Airport, Anastasia Hayden would be only a few days away from her first ever Guerrilla Warfare match for Union Battleground, but that match wasn't the reason for coming here. Partially anyways. Her eyes were set on the clear, pale blue skies of North Dakota and digesting the knowledge that soon she'd be in her rental car staring out at plain fields as empty as the promises of ever getting out of there. You wouldn't figure an international wrestling star would ever call this place home, but it's not like she'd acknowledge Steele as that anyways.

While professional wrestling had been on the forefront of Anastasia's mind for the past few years, there was something else she had neglected. This year marked the first time in nearly three since Anastasia had returned "home". The thought alone filled her with a mixture of dread and guilt. It'd only take one look at her trembling hands on the steering wheel to see the physical manifestation of Ana's anxiety making its presence known. She never made it a secret that she had left Steele, North Dakota to pursue her dreams of being a wrestler. Where she buries the lede is when she subconsciously adds on she left because she hated the idea of staying content there like her family, living a simple life, creating another lineage of simplicity, and dying without having made a mark; to put it bluntly.

But "pursuing her dream" was a lot more palatable; easier to say that instead of saying she abandoned her family. The same family that Anastasia had made a promise to see a few times a year, but that line of communication rotted away to where even one visit from her wasn't a guarantee anymore. During her time away from Steele, Anastasia had been living under this illusion that she was doing fine, that she was even happy with how her career was panning out, and honestly? Maybe a part of that was true, but the moment the wheels hit the tarmac, once she felt the raw edge of the wind starting to cut into her skin, that illusion revealed how brittle it was as the cracked started to weather away.


She could feel the guilt weighing down the air around her, it was enough to make her feel nauseous. The person Anastasia saw staring back at her in the rear view mirror wasn't someone she could recognize anymore. Those cracks were becoming more and more visible on the mask she wore. Coming back "home" was appearing to be a mistake. Anywhere else, she was the 4CW Champion, an FGA United States Tag Team Champion, and in her luggage was the Union Battalion Championship. By all accounts, she was having one of the best years of her career, but in these fields, she was just Anastasia Hayden, a daughter, a sister, a black sheep.

As the days slowly passed by, Anastasia had herself convinced that everything was fine because everyone around her thought that too. Nowadays, no matter how bad things got for her in the ring, Anastasia was always meant to be one of the strong ones, but when she caught a glimpse of her eyes through that mask, she could see the weakness pooled around her pupils. And in that car, there was no one with her. No Hellcats, no Laughlins, no one. For the first time in a long time, she was truly alone. That thought didn't help calm her anxiety, but she had to push through it, after all, that's what a professional like her is meant to do, right?

With Guerrilla Warfare lingering overhead, that's who she needed to be, but that feeling of guilt that now permeated throughout the air had first burned deep down in the depths of Anastasia. Maybe it originated in a dream she could no longer remember or maybe that guilt that slowly became too large to simply overlook any longer. Regardless of its origins, she had come back "home" in hopes that it'd be enough to clear her mind heading into Guerrilla Warfare, but like the demons waiting for her in the match, there it's the ones in North Dakota that haunt her now.


The demons in Union were ones she had conquered in the past, however, Anastasia would be lying to herself if they didn't create some doubt in her. Names like Bryan Williams and Chris Madison; two men that handed Anastasia losses that left her picking up the pieces, but she'd pick those pieces back up as part of her mask, held together by the glue of defeating those two in hopes of finding closure in that. She used their names to give her a platform to capture the 4CW Championship she hunted so long for, but that wasn't enough for her because as soon as she finally had that championship in her arms, it'd be ripped away from her.

But you already know the history of Anastasia Hayden and how a semblance of stability appears for the moment just to have the carpet pulled from underneath her. The second time around seemed to be normal, no more demons haunting her, she could be at peace, but that should've been the first warning sign she picked up on. Instead, Ana turned to ignorance because there was never any hope for the one who called herself "The Grand Duchess" could find some peace when she was constantly at war with the world and in those moments of silence, she was busy manufacturing a reason to lash out at somebody.

When Anastasia thought she wanted zen, she actually tricked herself into believing she might have found it, but it could never exist when all she did was fight, scorching the earth left behind in her path. And there only ever was one villain in every story Anastasia crafted, but you'd never hear her address who it was as she was too busy projecting elsewhere. It was the chain that bound her to the source of her problems and there was no escaping that. See, Anastasia never feared the monsters of professional wrestling or the cliche concept of dying doing what you love, but the fear of real confrontation scared her more than anything, especially when the one she needed to confront was looking right back at her in the mirror.


The 18-year-old in Anastasia thought that running away from North Dakota would be her salvation, but that anger and contempt for the world never left her side; it'd be that same anger and contempt that put her on the level she stood at. It was why she had to leave. Deep in her veins runs the blood of warriors; she was never meant to be happy working and living in a town with a population under a thousand people. And the fear was that the longer she stayed, the more she'd resign to accepting that way of life.

How could she tell her parents that they were contributing to her rage against the world? How could she look her mother in the eyes and tell her that she never wanted to come home again? And how did she react when her sister called Anastasia out on it? She left home and hadn't come back since. Why? Because her sister was right. Anastasia Hayden is selfish. Anastasia Hayden is heartless. And perhaps most importantly, Anastasia Hayden is a coward. And yet again, her sister is right because the only reason Anastasia is back is to make amends just to clear her mind for Guerrilla Warfare.

Anastasia wanted to be at her best when she stood across from Artemis Kaiser for only the second time in their careers. Anastasia wanted to look like the wrestler that killed the Monster King in front of his wife. She wanted to be the one that wins the 2020 Guerrilla Warfare match. And it's all about her. Because at the end of the day, this visit's not really about making amends or trying to set things right. It's about Anastasia Hayden and the sooner she realizes that, the better, but instead, she's trying to play the hero one more time in a desperate attempt to maybe recover some sanity; to only be a monster inside of the ring, but that's an impossible task.


Even though she'd barely been in the state for ten minutes, it felt like the ideology of the rustic homestyle lifestyle was beginning to pollute her bloodstream. Anastasia Hayden didn't want to partake in conquering the placid American Frontier, she wanted to conquer the world of professional wrestling. She wanted the pain of it all, she wanted the nights of aching in a tub full of ice, something, anything to take away the thoughts that poisoned her mind for so long. Now she found herself in the belly of the beast.

The remaining thirty minutes of her drive to the cursed house was beginning to feel like a walk down death row before stepping into the chamber. The clock on the dashboard didn't seem to move, but she knew it must have, though the barren land to her front, left, right, and behind paired with the seemingly endless stretch of road made her question it. She hoped that a buzzer would play, to let her know that now's the time; similar to the one she'll hear in the main event as she'd run into a nest of vipers and await a swarm of vultures to come out for their remains.

But there was silence. Nothing. Not even the hum of the engine or the wheels against the asphalt. The only thing Anastasia could hear anymore was the faint whispers of the voice inside her head telling her this is a very, very bad idea; a voice that she had tuned out a long time ago. The narrative it is weaving isn't one she cares for. For once in her life, would Anastasia Hayden listen to reason? Of course not. Her hands were locked into place on the steering wheel and there was no turning back now.


When that faint whisper wasn't trying to scream, Anastasia started to picture every scenario that would play out as she drove up the dirt road to her family's ranch house; her parents there to greet her with open arms. Perhaps she'd see the sister whose words cut deeper than any opponent's and she'd forgive Ana for her crimes against the family. Maybe they'd tell Ana that her mother was fine and that she hasn't forgotten who her oldest daughter is. Or they could even find a way to convince Ana to slow down, to live her life, embrace the normality of the world, and for once, find happiness.

A lone tear pierced through the thin fabric that made up her fantasy and suddenly she was met with the cruel, harsh reality that she preached for so many others to wake up to. She'd be lucky if her parents even let her in, her sister would never forgive her, and her mother was never going to get any better. These were the facts. But this is what she wanted after all. This is the confrontation that she had to make in order to prepare for war.


This trip was meant to strengthen her for October; to help her stand as the lone wolf she must be. Ana didn't want it, but she needed it. This was the first real challenge she faced on her own since January. Anastasia needed to stand on her own once again. This wasn't a war to prove she was the best in 4CW and it wasn't a showcase for the Hellcats. This war was nobody's, but Anastasia's. This is what she wanted from the moment Lisa brought her into Union.

The spotlight.


Behind her, the sun's declining figure could be seen and soon Anastasia would operate in the dark like she had for just about twenty years already. She longed for something to clear her mind and there was nowhere left for her to go for this other than "home". The garden she sat in was shadowed in agony. The parks were filled with a droning sound that never went away. And the empty hotel rooms were beginning to once again look like the abysses that harbored Anastasia's vices. She needed to get out.

And that's what she tried to do. She had driven down that dirt road she feared and was staring at the house her grandfather had built; the house where she was a loved daughter and sister and the days spent wishing to get out of there until her mother called for dinner, then all of those thoughts went away. Times when she felt happy. And when she saw that very same woman standing in the kitchen, she needed to get out of the car and see her. It was time to take off the cracked mask.

But she didn't.

When her mother looked up from the sink toward the outside, Anastasia continued on that dirt road because we already told you.


Anastasia Hayden is a coward.

And that's what makes her dangerous.

---

With the blood red clouds up high as the sun fell, the prairie wolves were beginning to make their voices heard. The camera slowly pans from the sky to a silhouette sitting atop the hood of a car with its headlights on. You already know who it is and she doesn't need to introduce herself as the lighting adjusts itself so we can see her clearly. Around her are the Great Plains, a desolate landscape as far as the eye can see, begging for a cowboy on his steed to gun down the black hat, but there is no savior to be found as Anastasia Hayden begins to speak.

"How many men do you think have been cut down in fields like this? Armies marching out West with promises of conquest and dreams of a prosperous tomorrow. And with their ignorance came consequences that they weren't ready for. How does one prepare themselves to watch their brother-in-arms get torn down in front of them? All of the training in the world and manpower can be easily toppled over by the simplest of tricks. When you're outmatched, outnumbered and the weight of the world is ready to crash down onto you...are you just going to roll over and accept your fate?"

"Or will you take a hard look at those odds and realize what you must do? Guerrilla Warfare. You can enter a war with the greatest of strategists and a foolproof plan, but when that arrow pierces through your shoulder; that wasn't part of the plan. You can say you plan for the unexpected, but when the unexpected hits, you panic. And when you start to panic, that panic spreads, and soon everyone is panicking, no one knows who's in charge anymore, but I do. I've stood in battlegrounds like this many times before and I know better than anyone about how these play out."

Anastasia spoke like some crazed old hermit, but what she spoke was the truth. Whether it be the Warzone of Horrors in 4CW or the Ultraviolent battle royale in Carnage, she's seen the best and worst of it all. Both times she was grateful to avoid being one of the dead in the field, but she didn't leave with the spoils either. And while Guerrilla Warfare wasn't designed with a taste for mindless violence, it'd still be a brutal test of stamina and willpower.

"I've left these matches covered in blood; mine and someone else's. You never win, there's never a victor, only survivors who take what's left to grab. In this world, we're all scavengers. Like buzzards, we circle around the one with the crown on its head, and wait for that brief moment where they stumble, where they start to resemble a rotting carcass instead of a professional wrestler. There is no glory in what we do. No amount of gold or platinum on our heads or around our waists will change that. We accept who we are or we become more bodies on the battlefield."

"There's no glory in warfare. Look at your survivors of this match. Nemesis, Alyssa Daniels, Dakota Smith. They all marched on, covered in blood and sweat, they each captured the Union Battleground Championship, but where are they now? I can tell you exactly where they aren't. And that's in the spotlight. They had their moment, they thought they won instead of survived, and they grew complacent with that reality. Those three were so happy to have the crown on their head that they let the world know they 'won' Guerrilla Warfare only to have that moment ripped away from them."

She held her cold glare at the camera for a moment before getting up from the hood of the car. The sun was almost gone from the equation and Ana's silhouette was becoming more predominant with less of her features being seen; starting to look more like some being from a mythic tale.

"Before you, I stand as the last 4CW Champion and as one half of your Union Battalion Champions, but when I step into that ring, I just become another nameless, faceless grunt like the three winners before me. If you're foolish enough to come into this match thinking that your accomplishments will guide you to the promised land, they'll instead be used to carry your body out of the building. A match like this doesn't give a fuck who you are. I've watched wrestlers with the highest of aspirations fall the furthest. I've watched veterans of the industry slowly realize that they just don't have what it takes anymore in a match like this."

Now Anastasia slowly starts to move away from the car and the camera follows; half of her face could be seen, changing forms once again. Her words were spoken with a cautionary tone behind them, but in the visible eye, there was a look of disappointment. This wasn't the first time she had told this story, nor would it be the last, but no matter how many times she tells it, they'll never listen. Why would it be any different now?

"When you win, you expect the world to celebrate with you, but I told you, there's no glory. Walking through those curtains after you've just conquered the world is the loneliest you'll ever feel. Everyone's beady eyes stalk you and some people just can't handle that. They survived for so long, but they weren't prepared for this. They survived Guerrilla Warfare, but they weren't ready for what comes after that. They hang around in the spotlight just long enough for it to consume them and let those buzzards swoop in for what remains."

"It's a marathon, but they run as fast as they can. After you've given your all in the Guerrilla Warfare match, what do you have left? When you're struggling to catch your breath is when it falls apart. You need to be smarter. And in a match like this, you need to know when to strike. I've stood across from literal giants of the industry, self-proclaimed monsters and I'm still standing here in front of you. I'm not going to beat them with sheer force. I'm not going to run into these odds head on. When it comes to a war of attrition, I run this shit."

Once again, she shifted her position with the camera following; Anastasia turned and now the lights were focused on her. No longer was there a mystery that came with the shadowy darkness. The signature arrogant swagger could be seen in full form with a slight smirk accompanying her, if only for a moment. This is the Grand Duchess, this is the one who only knows war.

"I've given this business eleven years of my life and all I know is survival. I've watched my peers rise, fall, and walk away from this while I've kept my ground. I haven't budged an inch and I know there are some people in this match who would love nothing more than to move me from where I stand, but there's no fucking way that happens. Somewhere in my cold heart, I'm warmed by the fact that my name is enough to bring out the wolves, but I'm the alpha, I always have been, and my bark and my bite is stronger than anyone else's in this."

"Some wrestlers in this match are just happy to be here and those are the ones I can't wait to watch fall. You want the spotlight, but you don't want to work for it; instead you put on a pretty smile and post pictures in hopes that someone out there will make you feel validated because you certainly will never find that validation in a wrestling ring. And you sure as fuck won't find it when you're standing across from me because when that moment of opportunity presents itself, I'm coming right for your necks."

"There's no, 'Oh, maybe I'll shock the world and win this! Don't underestimate me!' because it never fucking happens. Do you think you'll be the first to whip out that sentiment? Because that's all you've got. You're not going to beat me in the gym, you're not going to beat me in the wrestling ring, and I'm certainly not going to allow you a second of exposure when I see you. The Guerrilla Warfare isn't a fucking photo-op where you can turn around, post a picture of yourself in the match on Twitter, and have the other cookiecutters mindlessly clap for the 'effort' you gave. Do me a favor, yeah? Stay in your lane and I won't fuck you up."

There's a specific subset of wrestlers that Anastasia was talking to and they know who they are. The venomous hatred she had for them could be seen in the whites of her eyes. Win or lose, if she at least got to take one of these models turned wrestlers, that'd be good enough for her. But as she eased up on her anger, there were still more to go, and a hunger to outlast them all.

"When it comes to Union, I only seem to come in here with Lisa, and wreck shit, but don't get it twisted. I was Anatasia Hayden, the Grand Duchess long before I was a Hellcat. So don't get lazy in thinking that because Lisa isn't here that I'm suddenly not one of the hardest working wrestlers in the business. I took a year off from 4CW only to come back to slay the biggest monster they had to offer and the best you have for me is to say you got over ten likes on your selfie? You're nothing, but a stain on this industry and you certainly aren't strong enough to survive a match like this."

"And after you get rid of the cannon fodder, you start to get to the meat of this match. I see some familiar names; ones who just couldn't cut it in 4CW anymore. Well, that's some really bad fucking luck for you, gang, because now I'm here too. And just like in 4CW, I'm showing no mercy, no forgiveness. I don't care if being in Union is your chance at redemption. Or if you just want to find out if you've still got something left to give because if you have to ask? You're already too far gone."

With this, Anastasia offers up a fake smile of sympathy. The only thing she hated more than the "happy-to-be-here" attitude was that of the wrestling veteran who didn't know when to hang it up. It didn't matter how many times they were beaten down, somewhere, somehow they thought they've got more to give. A depressing sight that no one wanted to see. And she had seen enough one trick ponies in her time.

"I live for spoiling the moment. I watched 4CW flunkies flock over here and I'll give them credit where credit is due, some of them managed to make something of themselves here...but then they reminded everyone why they might be pretty damn good, but not good enough to be great. You can trick so many people into thinking that this is finally your time in the spotlight, but I see through it all like always. Reinvent yourself, do what you think is necessary, but underneath it all, you're still the same. I'm still the same. And we are two different beings."

The topic of reinvention made her pause for a moment. She thought of a mask. But there was no time to linger on that now.

"If you've come searching for redemption in a place of warfare, you've made a mistake. I don't want to be the flavor of the month. I want to be the person who carries Union Battleground on her back. When the going gets tough and the rats scurry off, I want them to look back, and see that I have not moved a muscle. I've prepared for this moment, this match, this entire fucking company my whole career and I'm not going to let anyone knock me off my path to the throne."

While there was no plan foolproof enough for a contest like this, that didn't mean Ana didn't have an idea on how a match like this played out. 20 spots and one shot at greatness. A recipe for the disillusioned to become desperate and hurt themselves in hopes of attaining something they never had a chance at in the first place. Almost a shame, but Ana didn't care that much.

"See, it doesn't matter if you've made your presence in this match known or otherwise. If you're a new, young wrestler hungry for my spot? You can keep on waiting. This match brings surprises with it, but I'm not hiding anything. I've told you what I'm going to do and I'm not backing down. I made a promise to myself years ago that one day I would rule Union Battleground and now I'm making up for lost time. Show up or don't; the result isn't changing either way. It doesn't matter who you are."

Another smirk of arrogance from the Grand Duchess; not that you'd expect anything else. With promises of blood and the downfall of man, there's still an angle for her to approach where she exits this without a scratch, even if it means sacrificing the young and old in front of her. Cowardly? Yes, but, well, you already know that. Though, following this all, there's a brief pause as Ana's mind drifts to a certain wrestler as angry as her.

"But out of everyone in this match...there's only one that I want to fight. There's only one that makes me feel something that I hadn't felt in a very long time."

This was the rare truth from Anastasia Hayden. There weren't many she admired in the world of professional wrestling and there were even less that she thought shared the same intensity for the sport as her. In many ways, they were the same being. Two women who stood on top of the wrestling world. A chance like this was inevitable. It was just a matter of staying alive long enough to see one another.

"The Mother of Monsters. A muse of mine. We've crossed paths once before, but that was just a customary greeting. When I look across the landscape of professional wrestling, there are those I look at who I want to beat. That's it. Nothing pretty about it. I just want them to know that I am better than them. Simple as that. But this one...this one I want to fight. I want to see if all this time of us staring back and forth at each other was worth the wait."

"For just one moment, I want to forget about the Guerrilla Warfare. And I know, even though she stepped away from it all, that she has it in her. I don't want to be proven wrong. I don't want to think that because she let off the brake for a second that she's grown soft. She surrounds herself with beauty these days, but I want our ugliness on display. I'd almost be willing to throw all of this away for a chance to draw your blood."

There weren't any signs of pleasantries as her sentence trailed off. A glance up at the stars up in the night sky reminded her that the time was drawing near now. This was the warrior in Anastasia. This is the woman who killed a king. The survivor.

"Almost."

She eased back, letting the tension leave her body, and an easy going grin formed on her face. Almost an unnerving sight.

"But instead, I'm going to survive against you."

Then when that grin faded away, it was replaced by a look of determination; the look of hunger in someone who was never satisfied.

"And I'm going to survive Guerrilla Warfare."