Reinado Del Terror

By Kellyanne Higgins

11/6/24 – 12/31/24

Chapter One: WWE Raw 4/15/24

Montreal, Quebec, Canada

Once upon a time, Damian was anonymous. He took in much more than he ever let out. He was a vapor in the streets, everywhere but nowhere at once. He was another guy living in the alley, another body sleeping in piles of rubbish, another shadow lurking in the clubs – menacing as a bouncer but still nobody of significance. Even when managing a few clubs, he was nondescript. No one really knew him, including himself. His life was over in his late twenties, after failing his dream of professional wrestling. Aimlessly, he stumbled through whatever came his way.

He dissolved into the night. Even when off shift, he was in the clubs. He threw around his heart and soul all too willingly. He didn't know the names of most of the people he hung with or hooked up with. And he did things that he deeply despised.

He had to live with his ghosts – failures of action and of inaction. Nothing haunted him more than the ghost of the girl who was brutally stabbed in one of his clubs. She was already dead by the time he came to his senses and took action. He was covered in blood when the police took him away. He still felt covered in blood.

That was rock fucking bottom.

Damian knew right then that he had to be stronger. He threw himself into wrestling – this time beastin' at one hundred percent. He had to make it happen. He had to do better. He had to be better. He drove himself as breakneck as his body could take. He became Damian Priest.

Then along came Rhea Ripley. So innocent and trusting, she was just a wide-eyed youth when they first met. He didn't dare draw anyone near to him, especially someone so pure and lively as her. But the two were magnetic.

Rhea was Damian's shadow, soaking up assorted asides that he had picked up from the ring and the streets. She knew little about America or of the world at large. What she did have was la valentía. His eager protege had that glint - that thirst in her eyes - for wrestling, for bodybuilding, for the all-consuming drive to constantly push to be more, to do more, to never accept accolades over excellence. She was young but had it together and was driven beyond her years. When Rhea narrowed her glare at her opponent, Damian saw his twin - his Terror Twin. They were a synchronized force, taking each other higher and higher.

Damian couldn't spend enough time with this little firecracker. He warmed immediately to her radiance, enraptured by her smirk and her daring. Even more, the kid openly admired him, touching him in a way he didn't think would ever be possible for someone like him.

Rhea called him her rock, but she was the one who offered him security. He was the first to call her Mami, the ultimate protector. Her playfulness and affection lulled him with whispers of trust and comfort.

Damian let Rhea's adoration wash over him. Her soothing aroma of sandalwood and leather put him in a trance where he believed too that she could trust him and that he could trust himself to be a better man.

The two of them holding the Heavy Weight Championship and the Women's World Championship simultaneously should have been heaven on earth. All the training, all the sweat, all the struggles… all their dreams were coming true. Was it because they were together, or were they together for this reason? Those nine days should have been laperfección, but the victory was bittersweet. He knew before he won his title that she was moments from walking away.

THIS IS MY BRUTALITY!

Damian stood with his arms crossed beside Finn, JD, and Dom, his sights fixed on a monitor in the Judgment Day clubhouse. He saw it coming, way before the day she approached and said that she was going away to marry Buddy Matthews. He knew they were in love, and he knew the two of them made sense. So why did it hurt so much?

He watched the screen as Rhea gazed lovingly at her white and gold Women's World Championship belt, her arm in a sling. She had defended her baby for 380 days. She was in her own world with her championship – the same oneness he felt with his. She startled by the "Mami!" chorus, even though the crowd had been going for at least a minute.

"So, obviously, you guys know what's going on right now, yeah? After the attack last week from Liv Morgan, I've now been told that I'm stuck on the bench for quite a few months."

The fans booed.

"I've also been inva… I've also been told, informed, whatever. I don't care. I'm flustered, okay? I'm angry right now. I'm pissed off right now. Do you know why? Because I've been told that I need to vacate the one thing that means the most to me – The Women's World Championship."

She looked at the belt again as fans chanted that it was bullshit.

"This? Yeah, it's bullshit. It is. This right here, this championship. This means the most to me in my entire life. And that's why this is so painful."

Rhea laid down her hard-earned belt in the middle of the ring. Embraced by sympathetic boos, she hung her head. She pulled at her hair like she did whenever she got pissed off at the realization that she wasn't in total control.

"Thank you, Mami!" the fans cried out. "Thank you, Mami!"

Those voices fueled Rhea's flare for dishing out story. He saw her flip the switch, igniting that spark that made him swell with pride for the senorita. And it was Mami who took hold of that mic.

"Revenge Tour!" She balked. "This is all because of your stupid little Revenge Tour! Are you kidding me? Because of your revenge tour. Are you bloody killing me right now? You know, I could have actually had some respect for you if you'd come face-to-face, but instead, you decided to blindside me like the coward that I know you are. And I understand, because I would have dropped you exactly where you stood. So this," she pointed to the belt. "This is a warning to whoever wins my Women's World Championship. When I come back, I'm coming back for blood. But no no no, I'm not just going to be gone because of an injury. I'm going to be gone, because when I find Liv back there, I swear they're going to have to lock me up in Montreal Jail!"

Liv appeared with her theme song and security guards. Damian barely noticed the verbal exchange past that. He knew where to find the truth - through the music of the dance of theatre geek athletes who spoke more clearly through action better than words.

Damian's first strike against him when it came to words was that school hadn't been his thing. No, that wasn't true. He had no chance of making school his thing when the foundation of his hierarchy of needs - shelter, food, safety… - were fucking nonexistent at times while growing up.

Damian had another strike against his way with words: He lived in a predominately English-speaking society. Hell, some people heard his accent and stopped listening. He didn't let that shit eat at him anymore; he wouldn't let them rob him of his soul. Regardless, he was a Spanish speaker first. It would be a damn godsend if he could use Spanish or Spanglish whenever he couldn't think of the English word for something - or didn't know how to pronounce it.

Let's just say that he wasn't looking good to the Yankees or anyone with his third strike: He wasn't good at processing never mind talking about his feelings… which reminded him about that one time his family bamboozled him into going to therapy. When the therapist pushed him to name his feelings to better understand and conquer them, he figured he'd name his Roberto Cofresí - a Puerto Rican pirate who would be a worthy adversary. Roberto would give him a hard scrap, possibly ending him. Just thinking about it made him laugh his ass off. He left his first and only therapy session before the egg timer went off.

Damian watched Rhea pull on her hair. He watched her stiffly fight security with a busted shoulder. He saw her beautiful light dimming, and he saw her look of utter defeat. He didn't know if giving up her Women's World Championship or the obligatory beating from her good friend Liv hurt more, but marriage had better be worth it.

Damian hung his head. When he raised it, he saw Rhea darkening the doorway of the clubhouse. She approached the other members of Judgment Day, her gaze meeting his with a grimace.

He hissed a sigh through his teeth. Ripshit, he wished he had someone to target. How was any of this right? The rules were bullshit, but rules were rules. There's no way Buddy would have insisted on taking downtime now if he knew it would cost her the championship. Did she demand this sacrifice of herself? If so, what the fuck, after she worked her ass off to get where she was today? This couldn't be what she really wanted, not when she looked so fucking devastated.

Rhea was making a big mistake, and it was too late to do a damn thing about it. Her belt was back in Adam Pearce's hands, ready for a match to determine its new owner. And Rhea stood here, the pain in her eyes seizing his gut.

Damian held his arms open to her, and she fell into them. He had to settle for just one arm around her. He had to leave the other side open for Dom, who was reaching for her too. Finn and JD folded in, the five embracing one another.

Damian felt Rhea's breath on his cheek and heard her sniffle. He pressed on her trapezius, trying to release at least some of her tension. But nothing he could say or do would get that title back. Nothing he could say or do would keep her here with him. All he could do was lift her spirits as best he could. All he could do was be her light when her glow took a hit.

"Rhea," Damian said, and she met his gaze. Dom put his arm around her, and she pressed her head on his shoulder. "We know when you come back, you're going to make Liv regret ever messing with you." She leaned back, like she knew his voice would rise. "And we know, when you come back, you're going to be more bad ass than you are right now. Because you are Rhea Bloody Ripley!" She smiled. "And we love you."

Rhea nodded along with the others. "Make sure you guys keep Judgment Day on top," she requested. "All right?"

Damian smiled. "You got it, Mami."

"Look after this one," she rapped her knuckles on Dom's chest.

Damian chuckled.

JD patted Dom's back. "I got 'im, sis," he assured.

"Bye, guys."

"Take care," Damian said.

She ran her hand through Dom's mullet – the last time Damian remembered it being so fluffy. Apparently, when Rhea left, Dom forgot about bathing and was absolutely ratchet. Or he was too comfortable with his newlywed life with Maria.

Rhea turned and walked away.

"We love you, Mami!" Dom called after her.

"Te amo!"

"Te amo!" Damian whispered under his breath when she disappeared.

Rhea was back moments later. She threw herself into Damian's arms, and he held her tight. He kissed the top of her head. Then she walked away for real, and with her the warmth within him. He didn't know what to feel - what he was supposed to feel versus what really raged within him. He sure as hell didn't want to think too hard about it or come up with a name for this crap.

Damian was the first to leave the arena, turning in his rental car and catching an early flight home. He hadn't even traded his wrestling gear for street clothes – a deep purple, silk button-up and black pants – until he was in the airport bathroom while waiting for his plane. Once onboard, he stared out the window into dark clouds. He arrived at Laguardia and took an Uber to his apartment. But when the stranger dropped him at his doorstep, Damian didn't want to go home. So, he walked the streets.

Damian found himself in the club district, drawn to the anonymity of nightlife. He stumbled upon a modest space, lured by its crimson glow. The club was called Madame X on West Houston St. He pulled a couple of twenties out of his pocket and handed them to the bouncer as he stepped through the door. So many twists and turns inside the dim, red tinted club. Following the beat, he took a turn into the mosh pit. He jumped like hell to the cover band's late 80's / early 90's pure fucking metal and growled lyrics until his throat hurt. He headbanged until the band took a break, then slipped towards the main bar as subtly as a 6'2", tattooed, muscle bound Latino could manage.

Fucking figured the bar was full. But Damian had a way of lurking covertly. He ordered straight tequila, chugging it in one shot. He nudged his empty glass, and the bartender refilled it.

Damian loomed in the corner, surveying the scene while nursing his ale. He glanced at a sign behind the bar that read: "Everybody is sexy at Madame X". He chuckled, not feeling particularly sexy – or particularly much of anything.

He made eye contact with a blonde who had startling green eyes. She leaned across the bar, openly appraising his physique with a skeptical raised brow. Her sights returned to his, and she nodded with a languid smirk. She waved, wiggling each finger…

Like Rhea.

Damian sucked in a breath. This woman looked nothing like Rhea. So why did he see his friend in the woman's motions and tones? Now he was the one shamelessly drinking her in.

These days, Damian reveled in the scene but rarely engaged in more than casual flirting. Maybe tonight would be different; he had to take his mind off her. Yet here he was, seeing Rhea's features in another. He was incapable of turning away.

"Do you come here often, stranger?" She asked, then laughed like they shared an in-joke. She licked her lips at the tail end of her last chuckle, still grinning. She tucked a thick golden curl behind her ear. "And here, we mock life in cliches."

Damian raised an eyebrow. She felt so familiar, but they were just meeting. Right?

Holding out her hand, she said, "I am called Mara." He accepted her firm handshake. "And you?"

"Luis," he replied reflexively. Usually, he had to think about what name made sense to say in any given scenario, but offering his birth name seemed right.

"Luis." She rolled the name around her tongue and smiled. "I like that! Hispanic?"

"Puerto Rican."

"Very nice!" she purred. She gestured to his drink. "Hey, what are you drinking? I'll get you another."

Damian smiled at her nerve, her unflinching move to take the reins in a scenario from which women unfortunately didn't tend to assert themselves. Her independent spirit rang of Rhea. He brushed off the red flags with a grin. "Okay, okay. I dig. How about another tequila?"

"Oooh!" She raised her eyebrows and slapped the bar. "Tequila, my fine man," she asked the bartender. "Make that for two." Then she motioned to Damian. "You can come closer. I don't bite." She patted the empty barstool beside her.

All barstools were filled just seconds before. Or maybe that was just his perception. He shrugged it off and slid into the stool next to her with a sigh.

"Hard times, my friend?" the woman asked.

Damian rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Nah, nah. Just old age, I guess."

"Nonsense. You are young." She patted his arm. "Ooh, and strong. Sounds like growing pains."

He grimaced. "You could say that." He knocked back his drink. "My friend… well, she's gone." His frankness startled him. Was he really that far gone? He was lightweight if he was getting wasted on his second drink. He sniffed back tears and swallowed hard. "She…" he cleared his throat. "She left."

She tssked. "That's terrible!" Leaning in, she whispered, "Good thing we're here, where everyone is sexy and you can make new friends." She nuzzled his neck.

He was no stranger to club life, but damn, this pace! He sat back and grabbed his keys, set on staggering his ass home before he let things get too far with this vixen… this Rhea feel-alike.

Damian rose and headed for the door, instead finding himself following her to the club's lounge where couples made out on black gothic couches like Rhea's He looked at the door. She tugged at his collar and slung her arm around his neck. He saw Rhea clutching him to herself, drawing him in and pressing her lips to his. He opened up to her. Their kisses deepened, and he breathed in Rhea. Her black hair tickled his face as he moved back. He gazed into her dark glimmering eyes, and she grinned. He fell back into her. She ran her hands down his back, and he gripped her body to his. He felt her warmth and caress, smelled her perfume, tasted her. He felt whole for once. He was safe in her bad ass arms, and she was safe with him.

He awoke alone in his bed, tucked in with confusion and bloody sheets.