MADD MORALES vs. “THE MARIONETTE” CAROL DOLL
SKIRMISH TITLE CONTENDER'S MATCH
“THE BEAUTY OF BREAKING SOMETHING”

It had been raining for nearly three hours and the rain was hammering against the grimy windows of the old, derelict house on the edge of town. The place had clearly been abandoned for decades, with all the trappings of a long neglected house: peeling wallpaper, a scatter of furniture and the constant smell of wet wood in every room. Upstairs water was dripping into a bucket and each drop could be heard all over the place. In the basement, under one hanging bulb, sat a young woman in black. She was in a wooden rocking chair, her long black hair obscuring her pale face and her dark make up hiding her eyes. She was rocking slowly and had a china doll in her lap. The doll's face was chipped, one eye was gone and its yellow dress was stained and reeked. Carol Doll didn't care. In fact she rather liked the doll. She would rub the cracks in the doll's face and smile a small, creepy smile as she thought back to her very first match in Vanguard. That was the only time she'd ever felt happy. She'd spent most of her life in hiding, a disappointment to everyone around her, and she'd learned that some things just aren't meant to be fixed. Some things are meant to stay broken.
Carol Doll: "Do you remember what happened the last time we went out there, little one? Do you remember how everyone was watching us? Everyone was watching to see what kind of girl Carol Doll really was. Some of them must have thought we were just another odd little girl in black, another girl who liked to play with broken dolls. Some of them must have thought that when we went in that ring we'd get a bit of a thrashing and then just fade like all the other girls who couldn't take the beating. That's not what happened, was it? No it didn't. I hurt someone. I hurt someone properly and the odd thing is, I enjoyed it."
Carol stopped rocking and tipped the head of the doll towards her so it could listen. She gave it a gentle hug, let go and started rocking again. In her mind she saw the ring lights, heard the crowd and remembered walking through the ropes for her very first Vanguard match. Some of the crowd were cheering, some were booing and others were just sitting there not quite knowing what to make of it. Carol didn't give a damn about any of them. The only person that mattered was the one she was going to face, the one chosen to meet her at the company. She remembered her opponent trying to fight back but that resistance just disappeared as Carol took over. She could hear the bodies hitting the mat, the frantic attempts to get up and the look on her opponent's face. The actual win wasn't the point. What she remembered was the transformation of someone who thought they could win into someone who just wanted it to be over.
Oh it was wonderful. I know I'm not meant to say that. I'm meant to just go along, to be all right with it, to look my opponent in the eye and treat it as just another wrestling match. Why on earth would I do that? I can remember every one of them. It was absolutely wonderful. I know I'm not meant to say that. I'm supposed to just go along, be all right with it, look my opponent in the eye and treat it as just another match. Why should I? I can remember every single one. I can see them trying to get away, the sheer desperation when they realised I wasn't going to stop just because they were hurting. After it was all over and everyone was screaming and shouting, all I could feel was peace. For a few minutes those awful thoughts that normally follow me were just gone. There was nothing but silence. Absolute, perfect silence. I looked forward to the next one. She wasn't in it for the friends. She wasn't in it to be some sort of role model for the audience. She didn't want little girls going round with her merchandise and telling their parents they wanted to be like her. That would have been ridiculous. She needed something far simpler. She needed another opponent. She wanted another ring. She wanted another chance to prove to the universe that the quiet, unassuming girl from Salem, Massachusetts, could do things they couldn't even begin to imagine. She'd already made her first impression and Vanguard had decided to reward her with something far more interesting. Her next match was to be against Madd Morales and the winner of that would be a contender for the Skirmish Championship. She read that announcement over and over again, staring at the name as if it was on a little card attached to a Christmas present.
Carol Doll: "Madd Morales. What a pretty name. Madd. I wonder if that's intended to make you sound intimidating. Are you in fact a bit of a rage monster? Always angry, always shouting at people, always throwing things when you don't get your way. Or is it just a name that someone thought would look great on a wrestling poster? I know absolutely nothing about you, Madd. I'm not going to pretend I do. All I know is that you're standing in the way of something I want. And that makes you very, very unlucky."
Carol got up from the chair and put the broken doll down on a little wooden table. The basement was full of all sorts of oddities she'd accumulated over the years: old music boxes, a number of damaged puppets, a couple of cracked mirrors and shelves full of dolls of every description. Some of the dolls were missing arms and legs, others had been mended with thread and bits of cloth. There were a number of marionettes hanging from the ceiling, their wooden faces staring down at her. She stopped under one and gave its lines a gentle tug, lifting its arm and turning its head. She smiled as it moved exactly as she wanted. To most people it would be a rather unnerving collection, but to Carol it was perfectly comforting. The dolls never asked you any questions, never asked you to smile, never made any comment on your clothes and certainly never pretended to care before they left.
Carol Doll: "People are absolutely mad! They spend their entire lives acting as though they're in complete control of everything. They make plans, they set goals, they tell you what they're going to achieve. Then someone pulls the right string and it all just collapses. That's what I love about the marionettes. They don't pretend they're in control. They know they're being controlled. People are different of course. People will fight it. They'll fight against it, they'll struggle, they'll scream and they'll try to convince themselves that they can still make a difference. That's what makes breaking them so interesting."
Carol released the strings and watched the wooden puppet swing gently above her head. She walked over to the big mirror against the wall and had a look at herself. Her black clothes were hanging rather loosely on her and her dark make up made her pale skin look even paler. She was as tired as she always was, but tonight there was a flicker of excitement in her eyes that hadn't been there prior to her Vanguard debut. She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket, the match announcement: Madd Morales vs Carol Doll, Skirmish Title Contender's Match. Those words meant more to her than she'd ever care to admit. After all the years of being told she didn't belong, she finally had a real shot at being a contender. She wasn't going to pretend this was just another match in Vanguard. My first opponent found out the hard way. Now it's your turn. And the beautiful thing is that I don't even have to hate you. Isn't that odd? I don't hate you, Madd. I don't know you well enough to hate you. You could be a lovely person. You could have friends, you could have family, you could have people who love you. But none of that matters when we're in that ring. When I look at you I don't see a person with hopes and dreams. I see another little doll, waiting for someone to pull its strings.
She folded the paper, put it back in her pocket and walked over to an old wooden cabinet. Inside were her wrestling boots, her knee pads and the dark ring gear from her debut. She took the clothing out and laid it on the table, running her fingers over the fabric as she thought back to walking into the ring with thousands of people watching. The crowds always got her nerves up and she really hated the way strangers would be looking at her like she was some kind of oddity. Wrestling was different though. Once you were in the ring the crowd just went away. All you had was your opponent and you could finally be yourself without having to explain anything.
Carol Doll: "What the hell are you up to, Madd? Are you in some posh gym right now watching videos of my first match? Are you thinking you've found some weakness in me that you can take advantage of? Are you thinking I'm too small, too odd, too easily distracted to be able to cope with what's going on? That's precisely what people have done before. They see the dark clothes, the make-up, the dolls and they think I'm just some silly little girl playing dress up. Then I kick them in the face, I drive their head into the mat and they suddenly realise I'm not playing. You can make all the jokes at me before the match, Madd. Just don't forget that once you're on your back trying to remember what happened, it's a whole lot harder to laugh."
Carol picked up one of her black wrestling boots, had a look at the sole and put it back down. She remembered using her speed in her first match, catching her opponent with a series of sharp kicks and sudden takedowns before they could get into any sort of rhythm. She'd always enjoyed the way a wrestling match could turn on a sixpence. One minute you were in complete control, the next you were just staring up at the lights after being dropped. Carol liked to keep her opponents on their toes. She could come at them from the ropes, go for a running knee, or lock in a submission before they even knew what was going on. She wasn't the strongest wrestler in the world by any means, but strength wasn't the be all and end all. Sometimes it was just about patience, timing and the sheer willingness to do what others wouldn't. Little animal. You may well try to throw me about because you think you're the stronger of the two. That's all right. I'll let you show the world what you've got. And when you make that first little mistake, I'm going to take advantage of it. A dropkick might just take you right in the mouth. A Codebreaker might well leave you curious about where the floor went. Or I might just climb those ropes and bring both my boots down on you with the Dollhouse Drop. Wouldn't that be a lovely little surprise?
The rain outside got worse and the thunder rolled in from the distance. Carol looked out at the small basement window, watching the water running down the glass. She'd always found storms rather nice—the darkness, the noise of the rain. When everything else was so bright and cheerful it was the very thing you wanted to be in the midst of. She went back to the rocking chair, picked up the broken china doll, mended its dress and sat down. She sat there in silence for a couple of minutes, just looking at the doll as though she was thinking. Then she opened a drawer, pulled out a piece of black ribbon and tied it neatly around the doll's neck. She smiled at the doll, quite happy with the way it now looked.
Carol Doll: "The best bit of my first match, Madd? It wasn't the ref doing the three. It wasn't the hand going up. It wasn't the crowd going 'oh my god, look at her, she's absolutely terrifying'. The best bit was the moment I realised my opponent couldn't stop me. The moment their confidence just completely went. You could see it on their face. They didn't want to win any more, they just wanted to get the hell out of there. And that was absolutely brilliant. You could absolutely make someone feel that way without saying a word. You didn't have to scream at them, you didn't have to threaten them. You just had to keep on hurting them until they knew you were going to finish it."
Carol leaned forward and put the doll down on the floor, arranging its arms and legs as if it were sitting in a little chair. She then stood and started to walk slowly around the basement, the sound of her shoes on the wooden floor quite soft. The match against Madd Morales was going to be different. Carol was already picturing what it would be like to have the Skirmish Championship. It wasn't about the money or the fame. What mattered was having something that was truly hers, something that you could actually protect. She'd lost so much in her life. To finally have something that you could protect was more important to her than she'd ever imagined. It was just a little prize. I have to get through you, Madd. And you need to understand one thing. I'm not going to let you take this opportunity from me. Too many people have taken things from me. I've spent too much of my life watching other people get everything they wanted and me ending up with nothing. When that bell rings I'm not going to be thinking about whether you're a good person or whether you deserve a chance at the title. I'm going to be thinking about how quickly I can make you wish you'd just stayed the hell out of my way.
She popped in to the hanging marionettes and took one down (a small wooden thing with black hair and a pale red dress). The strings were knotted so one arm just dangled. She brought it to the table and very patiently untangled the strings so the marionette could move again. She was always good at mending little things, even when the bigger problems were beyond her. As she was doing that she was thinking about how she might finish her match against Madd Morales. There was Dead Doll Walking (her running knee strike), there was Marionette Massacre (a very dangerous avalanche hurricanrana) and her personal favourite, The Marionette's Strings (a submission hold she'd perfected). She loved the way it made you feel, the way it made your opponent fight their own body as they tried to get out of it, while she was in complete control.
Carol Doll: "Might just make you tap out, Madd. Have you ever actually thought about what that's like? Getting trapped in a hold you can't get out of and every time you struggle it just gets worse? That's The Marionette's Strings. It takes all your options away. You can fight, you can go for the ropes, you can scream at the ref all you like. If I've got you in the middle of that ring there's only one thing that will save you. You've got to tap. You've got to tap that little hand on the mat and tell the whole world that Carol Doll was better than you. I can promise you I'm going to enjoy every minute of it."
Carol finished untangling the puppet and put it back up. Its wooden arms swung freely as air from the old fan circulated through the basement. She went back and looked at her collection. They were all different in appearance, all of them reliant on their strings. Carol always found that rather fascinating. People like to think they're in control, of course, but in reality it's often fear, anger or pride that drives them. She couldn't help wondering what it was that drove Madd Morales (pride, anger or the need to prove himself to the Vanguard roster?). Whatever it was she intended to find out in the ring.
Carol Doll: "I really hope you're furious, Madd. I really do. I hope you're sitting there right now, absolutely riled up to the hilt because some little twat thinks she can out fight you. I hope you're coming to Vanguard ready to rip my head off. Angry people make mistakes. They stop thinking. They start swinging at anything that moves and they forget there's someone sitting across from them who's just as ready to swing back. You can bring all the anger you like into that ring. I'll bring patience. I'll bring pain and I'll bring a few little tricks up my sleeve that you're likely to find far less enjoyable than I do."
The old clock above the door to the basement was indicating it was getting on towards evening. Carol had spent most of the evening getting her kit together and talking to herself (as she invariably did). She didn't mind being on her own at all, in fact she rather liked it. Being around people meant having to answer questions you didn't want to or have to listen to opinions you didn't care about. Down here with her dolls and her puppets she could just be herself. She went back to the rocking chair, pulled her knees up and listened to the storm. Her first match in Vanguard was just the beginning but this next one felt different. This was her opportunity to prove that her debut hadn't been a fluke. She wanted everyone to see that what they'd seen was just the beginning of what she was capable of. Closer to the Skirmish Championship. There's nothing wrong with that. Everyone wants something. Sometimes wanting something means taking it from someone else. That's where we're going to have a problem. You want that championship opportunity and so do I. Only one of us is going to get through and I've already decided it's not going to be you. That may sound selfish. That may sound cold. I've never been a nice girl, Madd. Nice girls don't do the things I do.
She picked up a little music box from the table. The wood was all scratched up and one of the hinges had been shimmed with a bit of metal. Carol wound the key and opened the lid. A rather soft, rather uneven tune came out, a rather sad tune which filled the basement. Inside the box was a little porcelain ballerina turning slowly on a rather worn spindle, occasionally giving a little jerk as the mechanism was a bit of a struggle. She'd had the box for years and she wouldn't throw it away even though it didn't work properly any more. It was just so beautiful to watch something broken still doing what it was supposed to do. It was rather like her in a way, though she didn't like to think about it.
People will always tell you that broken things should be thrown away. That if something isn't working the way it's meant to, you should just chuck it and get a new one. I don't think that. I think broken things are fascinating. They have stories. They have all these little cracks and scars and they tell you what they've been through. And sometimes they're actually more dangerous than the pristine, unblemished thing just sitting on the shelf. That's the thing you'll discover about me, Madd. I'm not some perfect little princess with a smile for the cameras and a string of 'that's the life' sentiments. I'm damaged, I'm odd and there's a whole heap going on inside my head that you probably wouldn't comprehend. But that doesn't make me weak. It makes me someone you should be very wary of.
The music box had stopped. The basement was silent apart from the rain and the distant thunder. Carol closed the lid and placed it alongside the broken doll. She then walked to the stairs and paused at the bottom, looking back at the room. The puppets were swaying in the draft with their faces all turned towards the dark. She knew that when she went back to Vanguard for her second match people would be expecting her to lose. Some would say her first win was just a fluke, others would have Madd Morales come forward and expose her. Carol didn't give a damn. She'd heard far worse from people who were meant to care. A couple of the odd stragglers at the commentary desk wouldn't even bother her.
So here's what you do when you get to the arena. Take a good look round. Look at the lights, look at the crowd, look at that magnificent wrestling ring. Just enjoy it all before the bell rings. Once the bell rings it's going to get very unpleasant for you. I'm going to kick you, I'm going to throw you, I'm going to twist you and you're going to have to work for every single breath you take. If you knock me down I'll get back up. If you hurt me I'll probably just smile at you. If you think you've finally got the better of me that's when I'm going to show you why they call me The Marionette.
Carol puts one foot on the bottom stair and then stops. She's grinning at the thought of the announcement that would go off in the arena: Madd Morales versus Carol Doll, Skirmish Title Contender's Match. She can almost hear the crowd as the entrance music plays and the lights go down. No handshake, no "nice to meet you", no "we'll have a fair fight". She'd walk to the ring as she always does, quietly, without much expression. Inside though she'd be buzzing with the prospect of the match, the challenge, the opportunity to go in and leave another opponent on the mat as she walked out the other side.
Carol Doll: "My first opponent picked up on something about me that night, Madd. They'd worked out that just because you're quiet doesn't mean you're not dangerous. They'd worked out that just because you look a bit down doesn't mean you're not frightened. They'd worked out that when Carol Doll wants to do something, she doesn't need to moan about it. She does it. That's your turn to learn that now. Only this time there's a Championship on the line and that makes it all the more special. I'm going to take that Championship, Madd. I'm going to take it right out of your hands and there's absolutely nothing you're going to do about it."
Carol very slowly climbed the stairs, her footsteps echoing through the run-down house as she made her way down to the ground floor. The storm was starting to abate and the rain was no longer hitting the roof. Her footsteps echoed through the house. The storm was dying down and the rain was now hitting the windows rather than the roof. She walked down the dark corridor and stopped by the damaged mirror by the front door. She looked at herself, tidied a stray lock of hair and smiled. She wasn't that frightened, withdrawn little girl any more who would be asking herself if she really belonged anywhere. She was still quiet, still odd, still burdened by the past, but she now had something that made her feel alive. Wrestling was the place where her darkness could be of use, where people actually looked at her. Just because you were hurting and I told you that championship opportunity was mine. So don't be surprised when it happens. Don't cry about it being such an unfair thing and don't make any excuses about having a bad night. Just remember the little girl with the broken dolls who walked into Vanguard and started taking people apart because I'm not finished with it. Not by a long way.
She just cracked the front door open a bit, let the cool dark air in. The smell of damp earth and leaves came in as she looked out over the empty road. A car went past in the distance, its headlights cutting through the trees for a moment before it was gone. Carol stood there for a couple of minutes just taking in the quiet. Thought about the Skirmish Championship, thought about Madd Morales and the opportunity that was there for her at Vanguard. Closed the door and walked up the stairs towards the basement. Before she went down she gave the back of her head one last turn, ready to give her future opponent one more warning.
Carol Doll: "Sweet dreams, Madd Morales. Sleep tight, little puppet. When Vanguard comes around I'm going to pull every string you've got until there's nothing left for you but to fall. When the ref raises my hand I'll be smiling, because I'll know I've taken another step towards something beautiful. The Skirmish Championship is waiting for me, Madd and you're just another broken doll I'm going to leave in the dust."
With that Carol disappeared down the basement stairs again, back into her little world. The old rocking chair creaked as she settled into it, the favourite china doll held tight against her. The rain had stopped and the house was quiet. She closed her eyes and smiled, imagining the ref's hand hitting the mat for the final count. She'd just knocked out her first opponent and she was going to make the second one even more of an event. Madd Morales was the only thing between her and a shot at the Skirmish Championship and Carol wasn't going to let anyone get in her way. In Carol Doll's world everyone was someone else's puppet. At Vanguard Madd Morales was about to find out who was really in control.