>>10574924>>10574943Colby Jefferson walks through the park late in the afternoon, letting the trees and flowers and light bustle of urban nature clear her head a little bit. There is much to think about: the Immaculate Connection's near miss with the WWA World Tag Team Championships, the rise of the Divine Angels and the considerable backlash among fans and wrestlers alike, and her own upcoming match against Sola Fire and a mystery partner. Colby had WANTED to like Sola, to see in her someone who was committed to taking the high road in the face of adversity and doing things the right way, who could perhaps prove that it was possible to succeed in this place while maintaining some sort of integrity. She had imagined once, upon coming here, that perhaps she and Sola could be friends.
Instead, Colby had found that Sola was not only a chronic failure and a friendless sad sack, but also a backbiting, evasive, manipulative little weasel; at once a cautionary tale, and a reminder that nobody here in the WWA truly had clean hands.
Colby pulls out her phone, and is about to compose a text to Priscilla Divine, commending her on the brilliant idea for the Divine Trials, when out of the corner of her eye she sees something. Orange hair in the distance, the back of a head. It's not Amy or Nikki.
Colby takes a deep breath. A need for answers, and the three Bloody Marys she'd gulped down while cafe-hopping this afternoon, compel her to go over and confront Hailey. But she's still hurting. She's not up for this if it goes badly. She's got an important match just around the corner, against Sola Fire and whatever tag team partner she dredged up, and it would do her no good to get in Hailey's face, catch the True Hand of God across the jaw, and end up slumped bottom over bonnet across a hedge or a park bench.
From halfway across the park, Colby stares intently at the back of Hailey's head for several long seconds. Then she turns to leave.
