Atop the Mountain, Looking Down

[Christian Garcia]

We find ourselves in a home gym, built up in a garage somewhere. It's dark-judging by the moonlight cracking through the windows, it's late at night. It's still, and quiet, the only noise being the light clicking and clanking of workout equipment, and the heavy, raspy breathing of the Women's Champion, Jasmin Kaffee.

 

The camera doesn't find her, first, though. Instead, we're given something of a tour. viewing pictures from happier times- a younger Jasmin and her teammates at a cheer conference championship. A hospital bed, with a newborn baby in her arms. A shot from an MMA event, bloody and beaten up with two belts over her shoulders. A shot of her backstage at her first OCW event, next to one Terra Daturas. A group photo of the GOAT Academy, as it was. A photo from a movie date with Marcus.

 

The camera shifts focus to reveal her fully- the sports bra and workout shorts she's wearing reveal notable bruises on her shins, forearms, neck, and fists. Her eyes are bloodshot and unfocused from lack of sleep. A sheen of sweat covers her entire body, and her already fair skin is far too pale to be healthy. It's not clear how long she's been in here, but it's probably been far too long.

 

???: Champ.

 

A distinctly male voice stops Jasmin dead in her tracks, and her eyes suddenly regain some focus, darting across the room to see if she can find the source of the voice. Releasing her grip on the pull-up station she was using, she drops to the floor with a slight buckle in her legs, and looks around.

 

The voice sounds like it's coming from within the garage, and Jasmin slowly walks over to the shelves where some of the pictures are kept. She opens a toolbox sitting beneath the shelf, and pulls out a combine wrench.

 

When the voice speaks up again, it does so in Jasmin's voice. Before it was wrecked by her injury.

 

Jasmin?: I don't know what to do, I thought-I thought maybe he'd stick around, that this'd be a family, b-but I can't have a kid! I-I don't even know how to take care of one! I'm not even-!

 

The voice seems to be coming from one of the photographs, the one with her and her son, specifically. Her grip tightens on the wrench. Another voice, this time of a young woman, probably a teenager. This one comes from the cheerleading photo.

 

Cheerleader?: You know she's a freak, right? I mean, look at her! Look at her face! Look at that body! How do you even live looking at that in the mirror every morning?

 

Laughter. More teenagers. Jasmin swings her wrench seemingly without a second thought, shattering the glass picture frame. The laughter stops, but now, another voice seems to echo from another picture.

 

MMA Opponent: When I look at Jasmin Kaffee, one word comes to mind- fragile. When she steps into the cage with me, when all the pressure's on her, she will crumble. She will fall to pieces like she has her entire life-!

 

Another swing of the wrench silences it, but that just leaves something else to speak.

 

El Parca?: Turns out, you aren't all that-

 

Terra?: You are a disgusting human being...

 

Aries?: I'm wasting my time, training this one-

 

CG?: You have coasted by on my name for long enough-

 

Deborah?: Fake-ass BITCH!

 

Ashley Moore?: Trailer trash!

 

Bill Pine?: You've shamed this dojo-

 

Drago?: -kind of pathetic, if I honest.

 

Dragana?: a tired, annoyed sigh.

 

John Carter?: You ruined EVERYTHING!

 

Seltzer?: The worst OCW Women's Champion in recent memory-

 

Harri?: I should have finished the job!

 

Empress?: Drop dead, you nasty bitch-

 

Marcus McMichaels?: I think I made a mistake, choosing this.

 

Zoe and Heather?: You do not deserve this moment-

 

Atlas K.?: I wish you weren't my-!

 

Atlas K.: -Mom?

 

The lights in the garage flick on, revealing Jasmin standing amidst a mess of broken glass and picture frames, her feet notably bleeding where she's stepped on the shards. A few cuts line the backs of her hands, and the wrench lies discarded on the floor. Backlit by the house, Atlas Kaffee stands in the doorway.

 

Atlas K: Mom? Are you okay? I heard stuff breaking-

 

Jasmin nods, offering a weak, half-hearted smile. Despite still being relatively young, it's clear Atlas doesn't buy it. The pre-teen starts to walk toward her, trying his best to avoid the broken glass, visibly wincing when he fails... and gives his mom a hug.

 

Jasmin seems to notice his injured feet, and quickly lifts him up to head back into the house, seemingly ignorant of the trail of blood and broken glass trailing after her footsteps. As she turns the lights off and steps back into the house, a third voice can be heard.

 

Marcus: What happened? You're blee-

 

Jasmin: Accident...I'm fine.

 

The door shuts on a room full of broken photos, and the camera closes with it.