The Next Step

Taylor flashed a grin. "Yeah, dude." She said. "See you later." She gave Mercy a little wave and then strolled over to the mats. She began to convince her body that it was ready for another exhausting round.

What a weird and unexpected thing that was. Totally random. She might have been with AFW, but Mercy wasn't a wrestler, so she didn't have that to hold against her. She wasn't even a fan. She was just a normal person.

Well, maybe not quite that. She didn't seem quite normal, not exactly, but... maybe that in itself was normal. Taylor took a certain amount of pride in being an outsider, and outcast, a misfit, and maybe that's a category that more people belonged to than one would think. Maybe no one really fit in. She tried to imagine the people that Mercy had to deal with on a daily basis, and she couldn't imagine her fitting in with them. Taylor certainly didn't have a lot of friends in AFW, though she didn't exactly make it easy for anyone to be her friend.

As she began to loosen her muscles and get her heart pumping, she wondered if maybe everyone was just as much of a misfit as everyone else, and maybe that's what made them unique. Just some people's uniqueness was more endearing or attractive, and some people were still assholes. She tried to imagine Cecelia... what was her last name? She forgot. She hadn't thought much at all about the giant blonde lumberjack in a long time. She tried to imagine her as some kind of an outsider, but no way was that possible. That stupid ass rich bitch, she'd never had a hard day in her life. She'd certainly never had a hard match. Just imagine where Taylor's career would be if she cherry picked easy fights all the time against under-sized nobodies. Screw her.

Taylor cleared her head and got busy with her workout. She felt good, it had been a good day, and the second round of her workout went easier than the first.