FALLEN ANGEL Chapter 1: The Grind

Dragging on the cigarette more, she sat up and stood up out of bed. She grabbed her night robe to cover her nude form. Angel glanced briefly at the clock on the wall. 4:50 AM. Fucking hell. She dragged her feet over to the kitchen side of her apartment and set the stove to boil the water as she got dressed for her morning workout. Once she was dressed, she waited for the tea to boil before fixing herself a cup to give her that needed jolt of energy. It helped her push through the perpetual aches and soreness in her body. Then again, that was part of the life of a professional wrestler. People often heard wrestlers say ‘it never stops hurting. You just get used to it.’ Angel thought it was just a saying until she started wrestling, herself. They weren’t lying. After getting into a steady schedule of house shows and television broadcasts, the soreness sustained itself and...well, she just got used to it. What made it worse for Angel, in her mind, was her frame. She wasn’t exactly one of those curvy female wrestlers with voluptuous hips and cushioning to land on. She had some muscle, where it counted. She was toned. But her overall frame made her little more than skin and bones. Her teammates in her wrestling stable used to tease her about whether she ate or not until they actually saw her eat. Angel ate like a goddamn bear preparing for winter and hardly gained an ounce. A combination of her metabolism and because of how hard she trained. Train train train. Angel wanted to be the best. The very best. Not for reasons of public recognition or glory. She had her own motivations. Being the best meant holding titles and holding titles meant bigger paychecks.

Angel had her route that she always ran in the morning from her apartment in New York City, set up around the block. She had one hell of a rough week at hand. She’d just finished a show for one of the two companies she worked for. A match that she lost, unfortunately. She was still sour about it. At least it was a title opportunity. That said something about how she was doing. Her next booking was for the second promotion. It was set to be her debut, technically as she hadn’t actually wrestled for them yet. And from what she’d been told of her opponent - Sarah Frost - in WWH’s Sanatorium, it wasn’t going to be a cake walk. Can’t be any harder than Eavan Maloney. Angel thought back on her most recent match again where she unsuccessfully challenged for the Women’s Television Championship within NFW. Eavan called herself Krigare. The Warrior. She was definitely a warrior, alright. Angel could still feel the throbbing of the kicks and holds she’d endured at the hands of, probably the shortest but meanest woman she had ever stepped in the ring with. That wasn’t saying much as Angel was just over a year active as a professional. She was sure there was someone even meaner out there who would hurt her even worse if she wasn’t careful. Still, Angel wanted to make sure she was ready for her debut inside the Sanatorium so she pushed herself through four miles of a brisk jog through the Manhattan neighborhood she’d moved to after leaving her home in Japan. Angel needed to leave her mark. Make herself known. Get her name out there in the business. Angel needed every penny she could scrape up….


Angel sat on the bench backstage, tapping away at her phone inside the text message with her friend, Shelley Silver. They tagged together over in the NFW...among other things on occasion. A nearly spent cigarette hung from Angel’s lips as she read over a text from Shelley asking if she was entirely sure about wrestling over in the Sanatorium as well. It was hard. It was rough. Practically every match was all about hardcore with very laxed rules on disqualification. But the pay was good…. That was what Angel needed more than anything. She needed the money.

“Introducing first...Sarah...Frost!”

Angel typed a quick ‘talk later’ to Shelley on her phone and backed out of the text message as she heard the faint voice of the ring announcer introducing her opponent. Angel stared down at her lock screen at a picture of herself and a mirror image to her. Two girls, exactly the same in age and appearance; only distinguishable by hair color. Angel’s platinum blonde and the other girl’s jet black. Both were wrapped in each other’s arms, hugging and smiling at the camera happy as could be. Angel felt a tug at her heart as she brushed her fingers over the image.

“Hey, sweetheart.” She said softly, aloud in Japanese as she felt her eyes burning with tears, threatening to ruin her reputation for having a cold demeanor. “It’s a rough road...but I’ll see you soon….” Angel shut the screen off on her phone and tucked it inside her duffel bag. She quickly wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands and got to her feet.

Exhaling, she banged her fists against the sides of her head. Come on, come on, come on! You got this! She told herself before getting into her zone. Angel rolled her neck and stormed towards her locker room door, forcing it open with her fists as she stormed down the hallway inside the dark, gritty looking building, headed towards the ring, The sound of the wild crowd got louder and louder as she got closer and closer. The sound of her entrance music drowned out the audience, seconds later. Time for the grind…. Angel stepped through the curtain, into the arena….