. Back to Brittopia .

“The World Is Yours.”

Looking back on it? It was either prescient or a bad omen that Dr. Britt Baker’s boyfriend, Adam Cole, happened to be watching the movie Scarface on a quiet, cloudy Saturday in October.

Perhaps it made the perfect ingredients for the recipe of disaster that was about to drop in their laps.

Perhaps it was just shitty luck.

Regardless, when the rapid ping of texts came in, Britt initially ignored them. Until they became a flurry and finally she had to read them. Or specifically the news alert that took her attention instantly.

STONEWORTH INVESTORS PURCHASE MAJORITY OF GLOBAL WRESTLING PROMOTIONS. AEW, WWE, AND ALL OTHER MAJOR PROMOTIONS CEASE OPERATIONS EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY.

And with a simple press release, Dr. Britt Baker’s wrestling career came screeching to a halt.

One moment, she’s not only the hottest women’s wrestler in the world, she’s the hottest *wrestler* in the world, period.

The next?

She’s seeing the shocked, confused, angry texts from all her co-workers (the ones she actually cared to her about) from the now formerly AEW. Then she’s trying to call Tony Khan to demand an explanation, and…

“We’re sorry, this line has been disconnected.”

E-mails bounce back. Twitter DMs? Ignored.

All she gets is an attorney’s letter a week later, thanking her for her contributions, and assuring her the remainder of her guaranteed contract would be paid in full.

 Well, that explains why the Jacksonville Jaguars are ran so crappy. And here I thought Urban Meyer was their massive blunder of 2021. Daddy Khan should stick to auto plastic parts or whatever it is that he’s made all those billions from.

“Collecting checks like it’s 2001.”

That’s what Tony Schiavone said his ‘best buddy’ Sting had remarked in the aftermath of AEW closing.

The implication clear.

“Just another WCW. Enjoy the free money.”

November was a blur.

Somewhere in there was Thanksgiving, but besides that? The doctor had her first time off in ages. Which was nice. Heal the nagging injuries, spend time with her boyfriend, and finally make some necessary upgrades and adjustments to her dental practice.

All with guaranteed monthly checks from the Khans.

 Reba? What the hell are you doing here? AEW’s closed. And last I checked? You barely have the qualifications to serve a decent cup of coffee, let alone serve as a dental assistant.

Dr. Baker had queried when she found the raven-haired woman fidgeting and pacing nervously in her office lobby.

 I could still be your personal assistant! You still get lots of fan tweets, requests for interviews, probably even more now with the closings, and on and on!

 Aren’t you also collecting checks from the Khans? I mean, they were being a charity to even sorry excuses of wrestlers like yourself.

“Reba” looks agitated, biting her lip, and finally, the pent of weeks of frustration spew forward like a burst dam.

 I’m bored! The money’s great! But I got nothing to do! I just… sit around in my apartment and watch clips of your past matches and promos… but it’s not the same!

And thus, after another three minutes of frantic blabbering, including falling to her knees and attempting to wrap them around Dr. Baker’s legs… to which the doctor showed her deft agility and dodged causing the other woman to faceplant the floor?

Reba was hired once again as Dr. Baker’s assistant.

For no pay of course.

Why would Dr. Baker pay when Reba has a guaranteed contract?

Actually, why would she at all?

Regardless, Reba’s basic duties were to monitor Dr. Baker’s wrestling twitter account and other wrestling related feeds, inform her of anything relevant and… well basically just stay out of the way besides bringing Dr. Baker coffee.

And it’d have been fine… until Reba made Dr. Baker aware of WLCW.

 This is a joke, right? I mean, who the hell would give Mick Foley a wrestling promotion?

 It’s real! A press release has been sent out, and Mick sent invitations for you and Adam!

Dr. Baker just waved dismissively.

 Adam can speak for himself. But who’s signed for the women? I’m assuming the usuals?

Yes, Doctor!

 Ugh, so more Charlotte Flair with her busted face and implants? Becky Lynch and her godawful Ric Flair schtick? Sasha Banks and those fake tears that even a C-List Hollywood director wouldn’t buy? Excuse me while I vomit.

Actually? No, no, and yes.

 No Flair and Lynch? Guess they want to just collect checks, not that I blame them. So if not them, what other usuals? Rosa? Naomi? Ugh… Natalya right? She’s like a bad case of periodontitis that refuses to go away.

 No, no, and no!

Dr. Baker’s eye twitched but she kept herself calm like a true role model should.

 Alright, then who?

That calm died the moment Reba showed Dr. Baker the pictures of Julia Hart, Momo Watanabe, Hikari Noa, and Misao.

Immediately she looked at her assistant ready to berate her for a stupid prank until she saw the wincing, fearful hesitance on Reba’s face.

Making clear... this was no joke.

 Let me get this straight. Sasha Banks, Julia Hart and a bunch of Japanese schoolgirls and cosplayers?!

W-Well Jamie Hayter’s also…

 JAMIE SIGNED UP FOR THAT STUPIDITY?! After I personally sent her a life raft and pulled her back to civilization? Ugh!

Looking absolutely disgusted, Dr. Baker stormed off from Reba in a huff.

Yet after she calmed herself down? It made sense. Why would the major players of women’s wrestling bother to go work for Mick Foley when they could collect very nice checks for doing nothing?

And that should have been it.

Except Reba had to show her clips from the very first Vengeance show on January 12th.

It was so easy to disregard at first. Rok-C versus some cosplayer? Sasha Banks wasting her time with Su Yung and some indie reject? Up and down the card it was a farce to be mocked and scorned.

But then like the creeping tendrils of eldritch horror, or festering rot that slowly corrupted and despoiled anything it touched?

The itch came back.

The itch to compete.

The itch to cut promos that set the world on fire.

And most of all?

The itch to prove that she was the best damn wrestler on the planet. Male or female.

 Why did I let you convince me this was a good idea, Reba?

It had been another blur.

Finally answering the many emails and calls from Mick Foley. A rather awkward conversation, for Mick anyways, where he groveled and begged Dr. Baker to sign. And after a few back and forth, including consulting with her attorney?

Stoneworth Investors agreed to buy-out and pay her AEW contract in one lump sum.

So, she signed an equally lucrative and guaranteed  WLCW contract, and the wheels were once more in motion.

First, there was the brief February 2nd Vengeance appearance where she scolded Jamie Hayter and declared to the world that the REAL Women’s Champion was back.

Now? Here she was.

February 23rd. WLCW Vengeance from the Rogers Arena in Vancouver, British Columbia.

Doing final checks of her gear, Dr. Baker sat in her private locker room (another negotiated perk) with her thoughts racing like a Formula 1 car.

There was no doubt in herself. Just sheer confidence.

The doubt was in the (lack of) talent on the roster.

 My first match back since the great collapse of the wrestling industry, and I face… Konami?

The seething rage on Dr. Baker’s face is unmistakable as she looks at her assistant.

 Dr. Britt Baker has her first match against some idiot with a video game company name. This is the thanks I get for giving this carny act of Mick Foley’s a bit of legitimacy. Because did you see what happened after it was announced that I signed? Ronda Rousey signed! Asuka signed!

 Uhm Dr. Baker, she goes by “Kana” now.

Dr. Baker just eyerolls and waves dismissively at her assistant.

 Just because she’s using the name her little 4chan followers chant means nothing. Actually, correction, it means that they have something to make them *think* they’re special in their basement-dwelling neckbeard lives.

Finishing the last strapping and zipping up of her gear, Dr. Baker gets up, stretching her frame before a mirror. She’s dressed in her black and yellow “Brittsburgh” look. A constant reminder not only to the fans, but herself that she reps the City of Champions as its biggest Champion in recent memory.

 Once again, I have to turn a wasteland into a Brittopia. Once again, I have to take over the women’s division and roster. Once again, I have to become the REAL face of a promotion!

A smirk comes on the doctor’s face as she walks to the locker room door, holding her arms out already in triumph.

 And once again, a five-foot-nothing, nobody of a joshi will find her face curbstomped in by Dr. Britt Baker, D…M…D!

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