I blinked. Everything around me felt hazy and thick—like I was standing inside a memory that didn’t belong to me. The air shimmered with gold and smoke, and far-off whispers swirled through the stands of an arena that stretched endlessly in every direction. But the crowd? It was nothing but a blur. Shadows. Ghosts of the past murmuring like echoes in my mind. I knew this wasn’t real. It wasn’t now. I was in my own head again—drawn here by everything I’d been pushing down. Cody. The darkness I saw creeping back into his eyes. The guilt from our match. The promise I made to Mama Rhodes. All of it had caught up to me. Then the lights blared.
Old-school arena lights—hot, bright, and buzzing with raw energy. Red, white, and blue banners draped every corner. The unmistakable strum of electric guitar kicked in, and a familiar voice boomed overhead.
“I am a real American…”
I turned. And there he was. Hulk Hogan. In the flesh—sort of. Bandana. Handlebar mustache. Yellow and red gear. That same larger-than-life aura I remembered watching as a kid. He stood with his arms crossed at the top of the ramp, eyes locked on me like I was under a spotlight. "Angel," he called out, voice as thunderous as ever. "You got the fire. But you're holding it back like you're afraid to burn someone."
I scoffed quietly, trying to push away the lump in my throat as I stepped toward him. "I’m not trying to be a superstar. I don’t care about being larger than life. I just want to keep the people I love safe."
Hogan narrowed his eyes and came down the ramp slowly, each step echoing like a drumbeat of judgment. "You wanna protect your people?" he barked. "Then own that ring like it’s your yard, sister."
I clenched my fists. “I do. Every time I step between those ropes, it’s not about the show—it’s about the fight. I fight for them.”
He grinned at that, nodding once with approval. “Then you better start fighting like it!”
And then—out of nowhere—the ring appeared around me. Not a normal ring. This one was wrapped in shadows. Figures I had fought before—corrupted versions of them—started crawling over the ropes. I saw warped glimpses of Charlotte, Logan Paul, Rhea… even Cody during our Last Man Standing match, twisted by the guilt I still carried. They surrounded me like wolves. I barely had time to breathe before one lunged.
I ducked, pivoted, slammed my elbow back—but another was already on me. They kept coming. I hit the mat hard more times than I could count. My ribs burned. My lip bled. Every time I tried to stay down, the crowd—those ghostly, unseen murmurs—rose up around me in a chorus of doubt and memory. “You done already?” Hogan barked from the corner. “That all you got?”
I staggered up, panting. "I'm not done."
"You gotta mean it!" he growled. "Whatcha gonna do, Angel, when the world turns on you? When the cheers fade... and all that's left is doubt?"
I shook my head, trying to block it all out—the echoes, the pain, the fear of letting everyone down. “I keep fighting,” I gasped. “But I’m starting to wonder if that’s even enough anymore.”
He didn’t respond at first. Then, slowly, Hogan stepped into the ring with me. The shadows scattered, melting into smoke. Suddenly it was just him and me—and that same roaring '80s energy flaring all around us like fire. He raised his hands. “Final test, sister. One-on-one. Show me that you believe in yourself the way you believe in everyone else.”
The bell rang. And we went to war. At first, I hesitated. He played to the invisible crowd, flexing, posing, cupping his ear like they were still screaming for him. “Come on, Angel!” he shouted. “Let ‘em hear you!”
“I can’t—” I started, then shook my head.
“No. You won’t,” he snapped, then charged. His moves were powerful, larger than life. Classic. I took a body slam. Then a big boot. He didn’t hold back—and somewhere deep down, I knew this wasn’t about hurting me. It was about pushing me past the line I drew around myself. The line that kept me safe. That kept me small. I ducked a clothesline, bounced off the ropes, and for the first time in the match—I shouted. A real shout. Not out of pain, not out of fear. Out of rage. I leapt, dropkicked him clean across the ring. The sound of impact thundered. The lights flared again. He got up slowly, grinning.
“There she is!” Hogan beamed. “You got it in you. You always did. Now let ‘em see it!”
So I did. I stood tall. I cupped my ear like he did—mocking it at first, then embracing the rhythm of it. I climbed the ropes, arms out, eyes blazing. For the first time, the crowd wasn’t a blur. I saw faces. People I’d helped. Cody. Liberty. Brandi. My brothers. They were cheering. With a final shout, I launched off the top rope and hit a flying elbow right to Hogan’s chest. He stayed down. One… two… three. Victory.
He got to his feet slowly, brushing off his shoulders with exaggerated flair. Then he looked at me—no bravado. Just honesty. "You’ve got the heart, sister,” Hogan said, his voice quieter now. “But do you believe in yourself the way you believe in Cody? You carry his burdens… but what about your own?”
I hesitated. He stepped closer. “You wanna be the light in someone’s darkness—but you forgot your own flame. Just remember—they can’t follow your light if you’re too afraid to shine it."
Then a spotlight slammed down on me. Bright. Blinding. Hot like truth. When I blinked again—he was gone. Just the trail of echoes behind him. "Whatcha gonna do, Angel," I heard his voice fade, "when it’s you against the dark?"
I didn’t have the answer yet. But I was getting closer.
The air was thick—like breathing through memory. I blinked once, then twice. The smoky, dreamlike arena I had woken up in before was gone. This time, I stood inside something older, more ancient. A stone coliseum towered around me, ringed with towering torches whose flames flickered low and heavy with orange light. Shadows danced across the walls, and the murmurs of ghosts echoed faintly in the background, like the world was holding its breath. At the far end of the ring sat him. Andre the Giant. He didn’t speak at first. Just sat there—still, massive, carved from the stone itself it seemed. A silent guardian on a throne, like some kind of wrestling god-king. His eyes locked with mine, steady and unreadable. I swallowed hard. I’d faced monsters, legends, demons in the ring—but Andre? Andre was something else. He finally spoke, his voice deep and quiet. The kind of quiet that made everything else go silent just to listen.
“You think your burden is heavy.”
I didn’t answer right away. His words cut close to the bone.
“You carry people,” he continued, voice low and echoing. “I carried the world once. And sometimes… strength is not enough.”
I took a step closer, my boots crunching faintly on the stone floor. “I’m trying,” I said, barely louder than a whisper. “I’ve carried pain all my life. From my father, from every fight, from… from watching Cody slip toward something I don’t know how to stop.”
My hands curled into fists, but I wasn’t angry. I was just… tired. “But it’s starting to bury me. And I don’t know if I’m strong enough to keep going.”
Andre leaned forward slightly. The firelight caught his face, and for the first time I saw something behind his gaze—compassion, maybe. Or understanding. Maybe both. “Then don’t fight me with strength,” he said. “Fight me with heart.”
The throne vanished. Suddenly, I was in the ring again—only this time it wasn’t just me and Andre. It was me… versus me. My opponent wore my face. But not me-me. Not the Angel who fought for fairness. Not the woman who stood up to cheaters, who took risks to protect others. No, this version was vicious. Arrogant. Obsessed with winning. She smirked like the match was already over. Her movements were wild, reckless—every punch thrown with ego instead of precision. And then the bell rang.
I barely had time to react. My twisted doppelgänger came at me hard, slamming me with a brutal clothesline that nearly took my head off. I hit the mat with a grunt, rolling to the ropes, and tried to shake it off. She shouted at me, mocking. “This is what you could be! Unstoppable! Dominant! Why keep holding back for them? They’ll never thank you for it!”
I forced myself to my feet, wiping blood from my lip. “Because I know what that feels like,” I snapped. “That kind of pride eats you alive.”
She rushed me again, but this time I dodged and hit her with a hard elbow to the jaw. She staggered, surprised, but didn’t fall. Suddenly, she vanished—and Andre stepped between us. No warning. No transition. Just him, towering over me again. His size alone should’ve paralyzed me. Every step he took made the mat tremble. Every strike was like a building collapsing. A body slam from him knocked the wind out of me, left me coughing and gasping, staring up at torchlight. And still, he didn’t stop. He picked me up like I weighed nothing and threw me halfway across the ring. I hit the ropes, bounced, and collapsed to the mat in a heap. I groaned, blinking past the stars in my eyes.
“You can lie there if you want,” Andre said, standing in the center. “Many do. The burden is heavy.”
“I know,” I growled, dragging myself to my knees. “But I’m not done.”
I stood. He hit me again—this time a brutal chop to the chest that echoed like a thunderclap. I dropped again, writhing. My lungs burned. My ribs ached. I honestly didn’t know how much more I could take. But something in me refused to quit. Not when Cody still needed me. Not when this war—my role in it—was far from over. I staggered back up, ducked a swing, and hit him with everything I had. It barely moved him. But I didn’t stop. I ducked again, ran the ropes, and leapt, slamming a forearm into his neck.
He stumbled. I saw the opportunity. I dropped to the mat, hooked his thick leg with both arms, and—with everything I had left—rolled him into a quick cover.
One.
Two.
Three.
The bell rang. I collapsed back, chest heaving. Every part of me screamed, but I’d done it. I beat the Giant. Not with strength. Not with arrogance. With heart. Andre was already standing—like the fall hadn’t bothered him at all. He looked down at me, then offered one massive hand. I took it. He pulled me up like lifting a feather, then placed his hand gently on my shoulder. His touch was warm, grounding. “You kept standing,” he said. “That’s what makes a giant.”
I nodded, barely able to speak. He leaned in, voice quieter than ever now. “You did not beat me with power… you beat me with heart. Never let it be crushed.”
Then, just like that, the torches dimmed. The coliseum faded. And I was alone again, walking toward the next shadow. But I held my head higher. Because I had earned the right to keep walking.
I stepped into the ring, and immediately, it didn’t feel like any ring I’d ever been in before. The canvas beneath my boots shimmered with gold and red, the ropes glistened like velvet, and every side of the ring was surrounded by mirrors—tall, thin, cracked in some places. My reflection stared back at me from every direction. Some showed me as I was… others twisted my image into something harsher. Crueler. Shadows of me with smirks that didn’t belong on my face. It was disorienting, but I didn’t have much time to adjust.
“¡Orale, chica!”
Eddie Guerrero’s voice rang out like a guitar riff through the colorful chaos. He dropped down onto the top rope from above like he was born there—grinning like a fox, arms spread wide as if this was his kingdom and I was just a guest. “I lie, I cheat, I steal,” he sang with a wink, flipping backward into the ring with a smooth roll. “But you? You’re a puzzle, mija.”
I raised an eyebrow, slowly circling as he leaned against the ropes with casual swagger. “A puzzle?”
“You got the moves. The speed. That spark.” He pointed at me, his smile both playful and knowing. “But do you know who you really are?”
I scoffed and crossed my arms. “I fight for others. I protect what matters. That’s who I am.”
Eddie tsked and strutted around me in a lazy circle, fingers tapping his chin. “Yeah, yeah. The hero. The guardian. That halo you wear? Sometimes it’s made of guilt, not gold. You lie, too, Angel.”
“I don’t—”
“You lie,” he cut in, his voice suddenly quieter, sadder. “Not to the world. To yourself.”
I opened my mouth, then hesitated. “You say you’re okay when you’re breaking inside,” he continued, standing in front of one of the mirrors. “You say you’re strong, even when you feel like crumbling. I know that game. I played it better than anyone.”
I looked into the mirror beside him. My reflection looked tired. Like she was carrying more than she could hold. “I’m trying,” I said, my voice low. “I keep moving. I keep fighting smart. But I won’t sell out who I am. I don’t cut corners.”
“Oh, no?” He turned, his eyes glinting. “But if someone really hurt Cody—really made him suffer—what would you do? Would you still walk the straight path?”
I froze. My chest clenched. “…I’d go too far,” I admitted. “I know I would.”
“There it is.” Eddie’s smile softened, even as it stayed mischievous. “See, mija? That’s the truth. And it doesn’t make you bad. You just gotta own it.”
He tapped his chest with two fingers. “You’re dancing on a line. But just ‘cause you walk near the edge doesn’t mean you’ll fall off it. You gotta know the line, though.”
The ring lights flared—bright, almost blinding. I took a breath and lifted my fists. “Then show me,” I said. “Let’s see what I’m made of.”
Eddie laughed, pure joy in it, and he dropped into a ready stance. “That’s the spirit! Let’s dance, guerrera!”8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfb3ayzs3AM
and then Add to home screen.