How to Build a Spider

(VO)Morgan Freeman as Dead Rabbit

Oh, what tangled webs we weave…

Jaclyn Pierrot sighs. After stripping down to her SpongeBob boy shorts and crop top, she sits cross-legged in the large bay window overlooking the dark Chicago street below. Her focus isn’t outside though but rather within. The clown’s golden eyes watch as a small spider slowly spins a web.

She flicks a lighter to life, running the flame along the tip of a small, hand rolled cigar, filled to the brim with blonde, afghan hashish.

(VO)Morgan Freeman as Dead Rabbit

Since just after Christmas, Jaclyn had found herself spending more and more time alone. With her friends currently across the border in Canada and her humble host out of town, she had not only become bored, but restless as well. Even more distressing? It had been over a month since she had seen Tempest in person.

Jaclyn looks down at her phone as it rings once again to a voicemail that has not been set up before setting it down. She watches the tiny creature reach and stretch and bind the slender strands together. It’s home: a trap, though unlike the one she currently is stuck in, of its own design.

“Where are you?” she whispers to the arachnid. Jacky takes a deep pull from the blunt, leans forward, and blows it towards the spider. Her other hand drops to the phone and flicks the screen to life.

No answer.

The clown slams it face down in frustration, wiping away the tears rapidly forming around her eyes. She looks up to the moon.

“Where are you?" she asks once again, her nasal voice beginning to crack. Jacky reaches to the nightstand and pulls the Cross-Hemisphere Championship into her arms. To her, it would always be his belt, and she was here to defend it - to keep it safe.

But could she do it without him?

(V.O)Morgan Freeman as Dead Rabbit

Oh the tangled webs we weave - through our own hearts and our own minds. 

Jaclyn tugs a blanket over her tattooed thighs and cradles the belt against her chest, as she continues to watch the spider spin…

…and slowly drifts off to sleep.

“Empire Kick! Empire Kick!”

My eyes burst open or at least the best they can, the blinding light blaring forth from the back of my brain. Someone’s arm grabs my leg and I can feel the heavy weight of their body press down on me. A hand slaps the mat near my head.


I kick out on instinct.

Why is this so familiar? Deja Vu?

As Sebastian argues with the referee, I try my best to focus on the signs -  just a blur. The earth wobbles beneath me as I try to stand, but I can’t seem to find my place. His back is still towards me.

I know it’s over, but I’ll die before I give in.

One last chance.
One more shot

I lunge forward just as he begins to turn, tugging with all my might. His weight comes down hard on my shoulder. I can feel something crack, but I keep going.

Keep rolling.
Get on top

He’s strong, I can feel it as he struggles, but the surprise gives me the second I need.


He kicks out, but it’s too late: I’ve won. The referee drags me to my feet.  Even through the adrenaline, I can feel the sharp pain in my shoulder as he jerks it over my head.

It doesn’t matter.

I did it!
I won!

Someone wraps the belt around my waist from behind. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Sebastian, hands on his hips as he walks his way back up the ramp. A microphone stretches out and I can hear the words over the PA: “Jacky, what’s your plan now that you’ve retained after such a hard fought battle!”

“I’m going to Disneyland!” I proclaim, hefting my good arm into the air. I close my eyes, breathing it in - the glory, the-

“Ma’am?” A voice says. I open my eyes. Instead of the audience, the Dark Destroyer, in full uniform, stands in a freestanding drive-thru window, unattached to any sort of building“This is a Wendy’s.”

“What the fuck-“ I start to say, before looking in the rear view mirror. The words stall on my lips as a large Dodge Ram, in full display of the word irony, comes barreling into the back of my car causing my face to bounce off the steering wheel.

“Empire Kick! Empire Kick!”

My eyes burst open or at least the best I can, the blinding light blaring forth from the back of my brain. Someone’s arm grabs my leg and a hand slaps the mat near my head.


I kick out on instinct.

Why is this so familiar? Deja Vu?
No - Jamais Vu

I can see Sebastian arguing with the referee once more. Is this right? Reach out - pull him over, but if I can go that far…I push through the feeling, finding my way to my feet. If I have it in me to roll him up, I can surely make him tap?

After all, what better way to win than…

As my hand touches his shoulder, he spins. He’s a step too quick! Before I can react, he's found my back, his arm wrapping around my neck. His leg sweeps mine and the air is forced from my lungs as he lands mostly on top. The bicep tightens around my throat.

Why does this feel so familiar?

The referee asks if I want to quit, but I shake my head best I can. I would rather die than give up.

I would rather..

Jaclyn Pierrot sits up, pushing violently at the cover that had cinched itself around her neck while she tossed and turned in her sleep. Finally wriggling free, she runs a hand across her face, slick with sweat.

“What does it all mean?” she says.

Jacky looks down at the phone beside her - no messages, no calls.

She leans back, her eyes landing on the web in the dark. During the night, the tiny spider, high on afghan hash, has somehow spelled out a single word in the web.

“It’s funny, isn’t it?”

The scene opens up.

Jaclyn Pierrot sits with her back to the bay window, a simple street light serving as the only illumination. The Cross-Hemisphere championship lies folded in her lap, her hands resting securely on top. Jaclyn’s fingers roll rhythmically along the metal plating.

“How much history is wrapped around something so simple? Taking that all into account - this should have meant so much more to everyone around me and yet here I am, holding it in my hand. But that’s the nature of the beast, after all - that’s just the way these things go. Isn’t it, Sebastian?”

She smirks.

“Oh, you wouldn’t know, would you?”

Her hand slides along the belt.

“Because, of course, you tried before to dethrone the king that once wore this crown - you just couldn’t cut it. You had the opportunity to put your name in the books by beating the most successful UGWC World Heavyweight champion in history, but you, just like me, fell short. How many people in the last year went crashing against those two only to end up retiring…or running away.”

Jaclyn shrugs.

“Same difference, right?”

She stops, tapping her chin for a moment before pointing at the frame.

“Wait - wasn’t that your whistle? Wasn’t that what you weeped? Weren’t you ‘retiring’ cause you never got your chance at the big one? What happened then? Why are you still here? The fanfare didn’t sound as loudly as you wanted when you walked away? Well, my oh my, how history does repeat itself and here you are, the big one no where in sight while you are once again simply chasing a Creep.”

Jacky winks.

“You know, they say that couples start looking alike after a while and,” she looks down at the belt, “I guess that’s true, isn’t it? Here I am holding this and there you are…

She waves her hand towards the screen absently as if searching for a thought before shrugging her shoulders. “I wonder: Will you slink off into the night after your shot slips away, same as Sloane?”

“I would if I were you, but as we can see by what I hold in my hands? I am not. No. See Seb, before you said you and I have a lot in common.” She does a highly inappropriate Yorkshire accent We’re alot alike. Well you know what? I just have to say: I disagree. See - where you and yours take your defeats and define yourselves by them. Me and mine? The ones we take in the mouth? You assume they’re the ones that we swallow and we, like you are sunken and done and now defined only by our defeats. After all, you are what you eat.”

She bares her teeth in a wide, forced smile.

“A pint of blood - a pound of flesh, what are you willing to bite off? And what are you willing to swallow?”

Her hand balls into a fist.

“For me? It’s my pride.” 

Her fingers spread back out over the belt.

“After all, my pride is what landed me here, with this belt in my hand, instead of where my partner now stands. But it’s better this way, isn’t it? You see me as the weaker spider - a spin-off - something Tempest made, but that’s simply not true. Tempest saved me: he saw me for who I was and what I could be. That’s why he buried me beneath that earth. So I could rise again, better than before.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“Can the same be said of your Empire?”

Jacky snorts.

“Listen, I get it. You think because you beat me before, you’ll do it again. No problem, all in a days work. You think this title is nothing more than a toy in my hands that you can just take away. ‘Well, step into my parlor,’ said the spider to the fly. You’re about to learn: the Spider Queen is much more vicious than the King.”  

She beckons towards the camera.

“So prepare yourself, Sebastian - for your hopes? Your dreams? They will quickly be wrapped up and drained of any significance they once had. Your body? Nothing but a beaten, bloodied husk. And your memory? Your legacy? Merely cobwebs left behind in the Kingdom of the Spider Queen.”

She leans forward, the sinister smile spreading across her face.

“See Sebastian: Empires come and Empires crumble.”

Her hand lifts the belt.

“That’s just the Nature of the Beast.”

Jacky leans back once more so her face is obscured as the scene fades to black..

Daedalus looks down at the phone.

An unusually graphic photo of the clown wrestler known to the world as the Ragdoll pops back up on the screen. The truth was, he better than anyone, knows Jaclyn’s secret. Tempest is two things for her: her greatest strength and biggest weakness. Her Achilles heel.

For him? She will sacrifice anything.

And without him?

She will do anything to prove her love. If either of them found out, there was a chance that he may not survive to tell the tale. But that doesn’t matter. Daedalus knows how to get the results he needs.

He knows what it takes to make a spider.

“Oh what tangled webs we weave,” he says, pulling open the drawer beside him.  With a smile, he withdraws a hammer. “When first we practice to deceive.”

Without any hesitation, he drives the tool down hard onto the glass face, shattering the screen and any hopes Jaclyn had of reaching the Spider King.


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