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Miss Furry · (09-20-2026)

Location: Pater Te Hono Nui Stadium

5:52 AM.

The stage is still being built.

Half the lights aren't working.

The ring's up, but doesn't have a canvas or ropes.

By Sunday night it'll all be replaced with grand spectacle and thousands of people filling the stands.

Today, it's just people building tomorrow.

An unmasked Emily Grant stands ringside with the Anarchy Championship.

Above the ring, workers test the rigging that'll hold the championship. Emily passes the belt to one of them and watches it rise until her attention turns to a ladder resting against the barricade.

"Relentless has kinda become the finish line in the XWF. The biggest show. The place where everything you spent the last year winning, losing, bleeding and building is supposed to pay off."

Emily walks toward the ladder and snaps it out, locking the frame in place.

"You've spent months talking about time and how much more you can squeeze out of that battered body. Just one more run. One more chance to prove you still belong in that ring before tomorrow comes and finally proves you don't.

You said you wanted a chance you 'damn well didn't deserve' so your daughter could look at her mother as a legend.

But Elizabeth, I think you're using this championship to prove something your daughter never asked you to prove.

She doesn't need another championship to know who you are.

You do.

You want something meaningful to say, 'See? It was all worth it'.

Something shiny and bright enough to blind both of you to the cost."

Emily climbs another rung.

"And you said getting older taught you to take calculated risks.

Dick handed you one.

A clean road to another championship and a marquee match at Relentless.

You turned it down.

You chose me.

You earned that choice.

But you said it yourself. You're owed nothing. You expect nothing.

Good.

Because I don't owe you your ending either.

You don't get it because this might be your last Relentless and you definitely don't get it because you want your daughter to see you holding one more belt.

You still have to take it from me.

And knowing all that...

You still chose me.

Why?

You know you're running out of tomorrows, Elizabeth, and on the surface it just doesn't make sense.

But this ain't really about what's on the surface, is it?

Fear. Doubt. Watching the sun set on your career.

I think that's exactly why you picked me.

Because beating me means something.

I'm not part of your yesterday, Elizabeth. I'm what came after it, and if you can beat me and leave Relentless as the Anarchy Champion, maybe you can convince yourself tomorrow hasn't left you behind."

The first thin strip of sunlight breaks across the horizon.

"You need this championship to make that statement.

That all the pain, doctors, and bullshit bought Elizabeth Devereaux-O'Rourke one more moment to stand under the brightest lights as Apathy.

That's a pretty good story."

She shrugs.

"I'm just not interested in being your ending."

Emily starts walking down the rungs like stairs.

"You said you couldn't bargain with death, so you put everything on time. Said you just had to stay three steps ahead of it. You've spent months running from the end... then Dick gave you an easier road and you looked right past it.

And sure, I see why you might feel confident. You're stronger than me. You outweigh me by eighty-five pounds. You can probably hit me with this ladder hard enough that I wake up sometime Tuesday.

But I'm faster than you. And sooner or later, I'm gonna figure out where it hurts. If you think we're just gonna stand there and trade shots, you've never tried to hold onto a pissed off cat.

And if you do catch me? Fine... Climb."

Emily leans back, plants her hands on top of the ladder, and kicks her legs up into a handstand.

"But when you do, know that every rung strips something away and gives me something to target.

Hands. Wrists. Shoulders. Back. Knees. Ankles...

Balance.

Half of that already hurts, Elizabeth.

And you need every bit of it to reach the top."

Emily rolls forward and slides down the ladder.

"I've seen what you do with ladders. You beat Oz senseless with one.

But Micheal Graves didn't exactly train us to be comfortable.

He taught us how to hurt, keep thinking through the pain, and get back up when every part of you says not to.

So yeah. You can hurt me. Badly, I'm sure, but Graves made damn sure I learned that hurting me and stopping me don't go hand in hand.

To you, this is just a weapon."

She folds the ladder shut and lets it fall.

"Tomorrow, it's the finish line.

You don't have to race me, you can spend all night trying to make sure I can't climb.

And if you actually pull that off? Congratulations. You win.

But that's the part you're gonna have to prove.

Eventually you've gotta stop hurting me, turn your back, and trust that what you did was enough to stop me from coming after you."

The sun begins casting orange across the unfinished stage.

"You've made a career out of planting your feet and forcing others to move you."

She points to the championship as morning spreads across the stadium.

"Up there, you don't get that.

Your weight isn't centered. Your base is gone. And the higher you go, the less those eighty-five pounds work for you.

You keep asking for one more tomorrow.

I've never had to. I was already standing here.

And this isn't the end of my story, Elizabeth...

...it's barely morning."

Emily pulls the Furry mask over her face.

"But congratulations!

You wanted one more tomorrow."

A smirk forms as she turns away from the camera.

"I'll see you there."

Miss Furry walks away as the camera pans to the title still hanging over the ring.

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