The scene fades in on the gym rooftop at night. Chelsey stands in the fire escape hatch, facing away from the camera. As one hand grips the railing, the other holds a metal lighter introspectively between its fingers. Her gaze lingers off in the near distance somewhere out of frame. She looks up, her eyes flicking to the side and her head following, glancing over her shoulder towards the camera with a little smirk before continuing.

“I said I would lay this thing to rest, Lien, and I meant it. But I know the score. I believe in fairness and equality. I said don’t call me, but if you want a rematch, you just need to say the word. Name the stipulation, if you want. I’ve shown you everything you need to know about me, and I no longer have anything to learn from you. Maybe in another world, something better could have come between us, but this is the world we live in… for now. Maybe one day, I’ll be the one changing that world, even. But here and now, in this moment?”

Chelsey shakes her head, blowing a tuft of hair away from her eyes with a snorting chuckle. She returns her gaze outward again, clicking open her lighter and slapping it shut absentmindedly for a moment.

“It appears we both have more pressing matters, both personal and professional. You’ve got whatever your thing is, and I’ve got… you know, revolutionary shit. You’ve got the Triumvirate and the Coven, and I’ve got...”

She trails off, as the camera begins to pan around her to frame a profile. She’s biting her lip, pensively.

“I’ve got a bloated organization of fake heroes and false masters before me. I’ve got a playground of order to smash into the fires of anarchy.”

Chelsey pauses again to smirk. She flicks open the lighter again, this time striking the mechanism to produce a flame. The flame consumes her attention as she continues, a bit more distantly.

“I’ve got to destroy the powers that be. Whether that’s in the ring or out, now that my personal problems have been squared away, there’s nothing left to pull me from my calling.”

The camera slowly begins to pan forward, and she clicks the lighter shut again with a sudden snap. She looks back over her shoulder again at the encroaching camera and addresses it more forcefully, with a piercing gaze.

“Do you know why they call me Chelsey Chaingang? It’s not just because there’s nothing more versatile and effective at your side than a sick length of chain. That’s true, but it’s not the reason. It’s a story of my history, of my family’s history, the history of the most of the entire human race. We work and slave away in the prisons we call our jobs, our schools, our lives even. We are all a part of the chain, the chain that drags us against our will to whatever end society desires. But I intend to put a stop to it here, if not everywhere, then at least here, in the IIW.”

Chelsey’s eyes widen with intensity as she finally turns to fully face the camera. She flicks on the lighter again, holding it up to her face to give it a dark illumination. Despite her eyes and the increasing agitation of the previous words, Chelsey whispers the last line loud enough for the now-close camera to pick up easily.

“The only way to stop it is to break the chain.”

She tosses the lighter over her shoulder, off the side of the gym, and saunters off out of frame. The camera pans forward and over the side of the building, tracking the falling speck of light from the still-burning device. It drops the two floors and lands on the cement of the alley outside. The clatter of its landing is quickly overwhelmed by the roar of fire that emanates from it. The camera zooms out, revealing the results of the blaze. The fires leaping forth from the source arc into a series of interlocking ovular shapes, connected at each point by a burning trash-fire. The chain continues for two links like this before there is a gap in the fire, marked by fallen trash cans, their contents catching fire at different rates and temperatures. This creates a scattered pattern of fire until it reaches another pair of fallen cans, whereupon the chain continues. The entire design takes up two entire sections of the T-corner the alley serves as between the neighboring buildings.

The scene holds on the burning broken chain as the scene fades to black.

*~*~*

The scene smash-cuts to the outside of the gym in the daylight, just in time to be in tandem with the slamming open of the gym’s front doors. Declan and Kayna appear in the doorway, tangled between each other somewhat as Chelsey grunts and growls behind them, a hand on each of their backs, pushing them out the door.

CC: I said I won’t hear it! You guys gotta go!

The two stumble outside before turning and staring at Chelsey incredulously. Kayna has her hands on her hips in dismay, and Declan simply looks on, dumbfounded.

DECLAN: What’re ya on about, lass?

KAYNA: Bit sudden, innit?

Chelsey just shrugs, sticking her hands up to either side for the full effect.

CC: You don’t test well with the audiences. Sorry! Not my call!

Kayna just glares at her.

KAYNA: What do you mean, test well...?

CC: I don’t make the rules!

KAYNA: WHAT. RULES?!

She takes a menacing step forward, but Chelsey slams the doors shut in both her and Declan’s faces.

CC: SORRY!!

The silence in the wake of the apology and slamming door seems to stretch on for ages as the two exiles look at each other, then the door, and then back at each other, blinking occasionally as they process everything.

DECLAN: So, uh, I guess that’s it, then?

Kayna shrugs, turning to look outwards.

KAYNA: I’m sort of in shock.

DECLAN: Aye I hear ye, lass. I thought we were havin’ some moments, and such.

KAYNA: Yeah, I was just coming off a Joker-esque psychotic break in a dirty bathroom!

DECLAN: And I had dropped not-so-subtle hints about a drug abuse problem. C'est la vie, I suppose.

He raises a hand in a half-shrug, checks his bag, and starts to walk down the short staircase. After a moment, Kayna follows.

KAYNA: Yo, old guy!

DECLAN: ...I’m only like, forty-six.

KAYNA: Whatever. I, uh, could still use a trainer?

Declan glances over his shoulder at her, grins, and nods approvingly. He waits up for a second, and they walk off together. The scene smash-cuts again to see Chelsey high-tailing it from the door on the other side, coming to a stop in front of the wrestling ring the serves as the gym’s center-piece.

CC: That was tough, but necessary. They’d never have understood if I told them the real reason.

???: Hey, are you in here?

CC: Who the fuc-

Chelsey looks up towards the source of the voice, and nearly leaps out of her skin when she sees the owner. The owner of the voice is, as it so happens to be, also the owner of the building. Weeks earlier, Chelsey had chained him to a bench press bench and forced him to shoot a promo for her. He is an older man, with short-cut graying hair and a rather broad face. He speaks, however, with a quite proper English accent, almost belying his gruff-looking features.

???: Oh this is a bother. Terribly sorry, ma’dam, I had thought you gone.

Chelsey blinks at him. She’s clearly forgotten who he is.

???: I was just... off to the market to get something to eat. Thought I’d pop by my flat on the way, get some fresh clothes, if... if that’s alright?

CC: Who the fuck are you?!

???: I’m...

The man regards her inquisitively for a moment, only just now realizing she doesn’t actually know, on a couple different levels.

NPC: My name is Niles Phrasier-Crane, I own this establishment. I heard you and your friends here, and then you attacked me, and forced me to assume the role of cameraman for what I can only assume was... some sort of wrestling promotional? If you do not recall, you stuffed me into one of the rooms upstairs afterwards and simply left me there.

Chelsey’s jaw drops and her eyes widen. At first it seems she might be horrified at the realization of how she treated this man, or how she forgot about him. But then the look turns a bit more manic and her open face twists into a wild, open-mouthed smile of pure joy.

CC: YOUR NAME IS WHAT?!

NPC: N-Niles...?

Her eyes practically glitter as she shakes her head in amazement.

CC: It’s beautiful. It’s perfect. I can’t stop looking at it.

NPC: Looking at what, ma’dam?!

CC: Oh, you wouldn’t get it. Anyway!

She claps her hands together, signaling the end of that conversation.

CC: I’ll let you join the Chaingang if you give me this gym.

NPC: Why would I do that?

CC: I’m starting a movement and it’s gonna make a lot of rich people lose a lot of money, and it’s easier to set scenes if there’s more than one person in it?

Niles considers it a moment, and then shrugs and nods.

NPC: Yeah, alright. Old place has just been collecting dust since those fancy mega-chains moved into town. Just one condition, then.

CC: Yeah? What’s that?

NPC: We add Global Gym to the list of rich people that lose money.

CC: DEAL.

She crosses the room to extend a hand to Niles, who hesitates for a moment before accepting it.

NPC: Deal.

As he says it, Chelsey just downwards, as if looking where the subtitles would be on a Netflix show. She smiles in wonder again.

CC: So perfect. Now, all we have to do is draw up the papers and-

She’s interrupted by a knock at the door. Surprised, she looks over her shoulder, before sighing in frustration and stomping over to it.

CC: Look guys, I told you, you don’t test-

Chelsey flings a door open, revealing a group of six disheveled-looking people, holding business cards and looking on cautiously. They blink a few times, almost as if surprised to see her here.

CC: Oh shit it’s you guys! Come in, come in!

She ushers in the former tenants of the recently-burned building into the gym, and Niles raises a concerned eyebrow.

CC: You’re just in time to hear about the plan!

They sort of nod, very unsure of what is going on, but having already crossed that threshold, they gather and listen.

CC: By answering this call, you all have become part of the Chain Gang. Together, we will bring change to the world that keeps us down. Together, we will burn the world, weaken the links, and break the chains the shackle us! Through destruction, we shall-

NPC: Right then, but is there actually a plan?

Chelsey looks aghast that Niles would interrupt her, but softens as she glances off below again.

CC: Aww I can’t stay mad at you, Niles. You’re my favorite Niles Phrasier-Crane in existence, and technically I have seven now! But... hear me now, comrade. If you interrupt me again, the chain I break will be the chain that holds your spinal cord up.

Niles blanches, nodding and holding up his hands in appeasement.

CC: Anyway, as I was saying, the plan! First, we have to be prepared. That means supplies! That means shopping! Niles, you have money, right?

NPC: I mean, I suppose I have-

CC: Great! Then take these people out and grab the following – plastic sheeting, red paint, about half a dozen knives, some padding to soften acous- are you writing this down, Niles?!

She continues to list off increasingly concerning items as the scene fades to black.

*~*~*

The scene fades in this time, coming to focus in a dark room. As the focus sharpens, the room brightens a bit, enough that one can see it is covered in chains. Chains hang from the ceiling at multiple points, chains connect from wall to wall at erratic and odd angles, and there are even coiled piles of chains on the ground.

“To destroy thy enemy, one must first know thy enemy.”

The softly spoken words of wisdom come from above. The camera pans upward, and as it does, a form falls downward. It is, of course, Chelsey Chaingang, her pale form hanging from two chains connected to ceiling points. She hangs by her elbows, arms out to either side, leaving her suspended in the air.

“And everyone thinks they know me. But no one here, and I mean no one, has seen the depths of what I bring to the IIW. The level of havoc I will wreak will be talked about in hushed whispers when anyone speaks of what befell First Class. Lien Xinya was the spark that lit the fire that will burn this organization to the ground. But the first step comes next. The first step has shown itself as the head of Nova Skye.”

She smiles darkly, pulling herself up by her legs until she is upside down in the air. She releases her elbow grip and plummets downward. The camera quickly tracks her as she crashes into a set of chains, chains that jangle against each other as she comes to a stop, her legs wrapping around a parallel chain by the knees. She hangs from it, facing away from the camera, before lifting her upper body up in a sit-up like motion, grabbing at additional chains to drag her into a sitting position. She perches precariously on the chain, stabilizing herself with her arms, and regards the camera with a pensive expression.

“You are, once again, like all the rest, Nova. Young, full of hopes, dreams, stories from your youth that you yearn to reforge in your own image. I’ve seen so many like you on my path. Young women who see the world stacked against them, and resolve, against any and all odds, to overcome everything it takes to reach their dreams.

And every single time, it breaks my heart.”

Chelsey shakes her head, looking on almost mournfully as she continues.

“Don’t you see? You’re doing everything they want you to. You’ve refined yourself, made yourself exactly the image that they can package and sell. You became the model star. An icon for hire, ready to give yourself to the system that you once understood would do everything to keep you down. You sold out, Nova. Maybe you haven’t yet, but you want to, and that’s just as sad to see.”

Chelsy pulls herself up by the stabilizing chains, until she is now standing on the single chain at her feet. She leaps backwards, her backside coming into  contact with another parallel chain. She allows it to shift her momentum, catching her legs and sending her tumbling backwards. Just below it is an angled wall chain that she grabs as she falls, converting the momentum around the chain as if it were a gymnastics bar, throwing herself from it at an angle into a far wall. There, a chain is hung vertically along a single wall. She reaches out in mid-air and snatches it, halting herself. The chain has enough slack that she can wrap it around her ankle to stabilize herself, and hangs off of it from a single extending arm.

“That’s not to say you aren’t worth the price, though. You stood your ground against everyone in the battle royale, and eventually stood tall, taller even than some of the fiercest foes I’ve seen in the game recently. Bellatrix, in particular, appears to be out for blood in the ring. But she couldn’t draw yours in any way that mattered, could she? Too bad I can’t say the same for that big bad bitch, Alessia Capello. So what if she jumped you from behind? That’s how this world works, babe! If you really want to make it in the ring, you have to be ready for attack at any time, in any place. To be honest, you’re lucky, to get to learn this lesson so soon. Just be ready this week, because I can’t guarantee that you won’t have to learn it again.”

Chelsey laughs maliciously, unhooking her foot from the chain and dropping to the matted floor in a crouch, before crawling towards the camera with wild eyes.

“You’re off to a strong start, Nova, but consider this week the chain across your ankles. I intend to stop that momentum in its tracks, and I’m not afraid to do whatever I need to in order to do so. It’s for your own good, dear, I promise.”

Chelsey lurches forward, so that only her face is in the frame. She blinks sparingly, and a toothy grin slowly spreads across her face as the scene fades to a static image:

*~*~*

The scene fades in again, at what appears to be an office building. The glass on the door reads:

ARTHUR CONLOCK

PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR

The camera pans up to the door and right through it, revealing a man in his thirties or thereabouts, poring over a pinboard. On the board are news clippings on the explosion at Manchester Port, reports on various underground fighting rings and those organizing it, and the fire of the Grosvenor Group tenement building in the inner city. In all of these are pins, and on those pins, lines of thread. All the threads connect manically to each other in various ways, but they are all uniform in one aspect:

All of them have a thread that connects, in the middle, to form a spider-web pointing at a picture of Chelsey Chaingang.

FADE TO BLACK