Intense Research

This writing is part of a series of pieces within a fictional online wrestling federation.



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"I’m not too fond of the term “stalking”… I prefer to see it as 'intense research on a specific individual…'" - Random Facebook Group


“You know, I’m really happy you’ve changed your tune, and actually decided to come out and appreciate what this country has to offer Mitch! Don’t you think we’ll have a better time out and about than stuck at the villa all day?”

Charlotte’s voice came to me over the sound of the rented Jeep that we were now using to barrel down one of the many endless, winding roads that The Land Down Under has to offer. I chuckled at the patronising tone of her voice, rolling my eyes as I eased the car into fifth.

“Jeez Charlotte, you make me sound like some socially retarded recluse…” I replied, in a tone thick with sarcasm.

“Well…” came Charlotte’s equally sarcastic reply, “I didn’t want to be obvious, but…”

I turned around in my seat, grinning, to give her a playful jab in the ribs, before settling in my seat once again – windows down, the warm Aussie air whipping through my hair, and feeling content with the world. The truth was, I’d been wanting to get out more and more as the hours passed. As much as I had always and would always enjoy lounging around and doing sweet FA, I also liked to be feeling like I was doing something worthwhile or fulfilling.

Plus, I thought to myself, At least it gets Charlotte off my back…!

Still, it shouldn’t be such an effort, should it? Spending hours kicking back and doing what we wanted, when we wanted to; not many people could say that they had a job that allowed them to spend this much leisure time with their partner. I’m sure I’d find something to keep me amused, however hard I’d have to look to find it…

Or maybe I’d find someone to keep me amused…?

“Good show last week?” Charlotte asked absent-mindedly.

I raised my eyebrows, keeping my eyes on the road in front of me as I replied, “You didn’t watch it?”

“Mitch.” Charlotte began matter-of-factly, “I had several hours of soaps to catch up with? I know I take an interest in what you do, but do you really expect me to put my man’s job before the latest “Who Dunnit?” storyline in Corrie?!”

We both chuckled.

“Besides,” she continued, “How often do you take three hours out of your day to get up to speed with what’s going on in my work life? I know it’s different, but you’ve got to admit that…-”

“OK, OK, I get the picture!” I shot back. “Errr… yeah, I spose it wasn’t too bad…”

I paused, being careful with what I said – I knew it’d only take a slight slip of the tongue to land me in some pretty deep shit, so I was choosing my words carefully. Sure enough, eventually, Charlotte turned and looked at me enquiringly, wondering if I had any more to say, and prompting me to continue on, constantly self-editing myself as I went, making sure I didn’t fatally slip-up.

“I spose if we’re looking at it from a purely professional point-of-view, it was a good show. The main event went well – myself and Angel teamed up pretty successfully, and managed to get the bragging rights over the champ and his number one contender. That’s got to mean something, even if it’s only in the short term.”

I paused again, wondering exactly what would be the best way to approach how I felt about next week’s show…

“And… errr… yeah.” came my less-than-articulate choice of words. “I got myself a match for next week as well… through no choice of my own, I might add!” I jumped in quickly.

“Oh? Anyone you know?”

My lips twitched ever so slightly, but nothing more. “Mmmm… some newbie has come in and basically demanded a CWF contract, but Gamble’s under pressure, and doesn’t think he can go around handing out contracts to complete unknowns. So he’s set up a kind of tryout match – if this rookie wins, they get a CWF contract. If they lose, they go home empty-handed. And in his infinite wisdom, and for reasons known only to him, Gamble chose me as their opponent.”

Charlotte let out a low whistle, “Wow… tough break for that guy…”

“Girl.” I interjected, studying Charlotte’s face intently to see if the change in gender made any difference whatsoever. To be fair to her, it didn’t seem to matter, and I breathed a tiny internal sigh of relief.

“Oh right. Well, whatever… whoever they are, they’d have to be damn good to beat you at your own game, right?”

Try as I might, I couldn’t help but let a tiny, ironic smile break out at Charlotte’s words, almost shaking my head in spite of myself.


“Yeah…” I said, trying to keep my tone as even as possible. “I guess they would have to be good to do that…”

The car fell silent, leaving us both absorbed in our own thoughts, but thankfully, we were spared any awkwardness by the rather breathtaking sight that was now unfolding before us; as the car climbed over the brow of a particularly steep hill, the scene before us came slowly into view, silhouetted dramatically against the dazzling Australian sunlight…

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Adelaide.

The idyllic South-Australian harbour city, famed for its perfect white sandy beaches, award-winning vineyards and a generally damn nice place to live. The location also marked the destination for thousands of CWF fans as they flocked from around the globe to follow the CWF bandwagon as it continued to roll through the Aussie plains on its tour Down Under. There was no doubt, I thought, as I cast my eye across the picture-perfect skyline in front of me, that this’d be a brilliant place to be. But it didn’t stop there…

“That’s just… stunning.” breathed Charlotte. But I was barely listening. My mind was still processing the endless possibilities…

And maybe… possibly… hell, even probably… Caledonia would be somewhere amongst this perfect setting. Yes. That would make it truly perfect.

“So much to do, so little time!”

Charlotte’s excitement shook me at least partially from my own thoughts, as with an effort, I wrenched myself back into the here and now.

“So…” I said with a sigh, “What d’you want to do first? Where’s the first port of call? Haha, pun intended!”

Charlotte gave me a scathing look, rolling her eyes at my poor attempt at humour.

“Shopping. Definitely. It’s been ages since I’ve been able to go out and buy myself a new outfit! I think I need to let my hair down a bit, treat myself!”

I smiled absently as I pointed the car in the general direction of Adelaide’s shopping centre, whilst inwardly hoping that one Caledonia Summers, too, was in the mood for treating herself to a racy little black number.

Here’s hoping, eh?

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Adelaide was packed – there was no other word for it. A mass of humanity; hordes of people clamouring for the ‘perfect outfit’, rushing around like buzzing insects, each one intent on completing their mission. And unfortunately, Charlotte and myself were, at least for the time being, no different. Charlotte seemed completely content with being shunted along with the Aussie crowd, making our slow progress towards whichever shop took her fancy. More often than not, her face would light up at the sight of whichever bargain purchase she’d lay her eyes on, and she’d clamour for me to see it, to see her in it, and to give her my opinion, which meant precisely jack shit anyway. But would she actually buy anything? Ha, don’t make me laugh!

Now, normally, this would be a cause for great personal misery for me – that might seem like a bit of an exaggeration, but I hate shopping with an absolute passion, more so if we’re going into shops with no real idea of what either of us actually want. I like to get in with a clear idea of what I’m buying, pick it up off the rack, make my purchase and then get out of there, ready to move on to my next task. But we’re getting sidetracked… in any event, there was every reason to believe that I would rapidly be descending into boredom, frustration, and the general bad mood that comes with window shopping.

But I wasn’t.

As I said earlier, I like to feel like I have a purpose, a reason for doing something; something to justify the effort that I’d made on any particular day. And today, that effort could be justified with two simple words:

Caledonia Summers.

Every shop we went into, I scoured the landscape, craving a glimpse of that understated feminine figure, a woman who was attractive without even trying – unassuming yet quietly self-confident at the same time. It was a potent mix.

Sure, there were plenty of people who would tell me that I was weird, disturbed even. But who were they to judge me? If required, I could very easily justify myself, and tell people that I was merely scouting out my next opponent, getting a feel for exactly how they lived their lives, and how that might affect their in-ring performance… yeah… that was exactly what I was doing.

With each store came a renewed hope that I might be able to catch a glimpse of the elusive beauty, maybe even set up a very covert and extremely dangerous meeting of some sort. As I’d noted before, the possibilities seemed endless. Yet as I quickly scanned each passing face, taking in every detail of every person that was walking in and out of every store, a little something inside me sank, as I realised that Caledonia wasn’t here. But still I searched, deflecting irritating questions and trivial comments every so often, as Charlotte fired them across at me.

“What do you think? Red, or black?”

My eyes flitted around the room. I afforded Charlotte a non-committal jerk of the head, disregarding the blonde woman lounging by the changing rooms.

“I’m not sure the red goes with my complexion, are you? I think it drains me…”

I was getting restless, distracted…

“Do you know what though… I do quite like this black dress. Shows me off in all the right places, eh Mitch?”

Forget distracted – I was downright irritated now, as another woman, about five years too old, swept past me without a second glance.

“Yes. Yeah I am gonna buy this. I think it’s perfect!”

“Mmmm… that’s a shame babe… but I’m sure you’ll find something you like…” I mumbled back, head still pivoting, eyes still darting. Thankfully, Charlotte was too busy searching for some cash and as such, didn’t hear me properly.

“What was that hun?” she asked, still ferreting through her purse.

I just about managed a low grunt in response, before my brain finally kicked into gear and formed a proper reply.

“Shall we go then?” I asked.

“What, back to the villa?” Charlotte enquired, her head jolting up quickly, worry on her face.

“No, not yet…” I mumbled absently, “I’ve not finished what I’ve got to do yet…”

“What?” Charlotte asked, now completely lost. I wasn’t planning on clarifying things for her any time soon…

“Come on, let’s go to a café or something…” I said vaguely, sweeping off without a second glance behind me, and leaving a completely dumbfounded girlfriend in my wake, clutching a black dress in one hand and about five different credit cards in the other.


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“Mitch, you’re all over the place today…! What’s wrong?”

I barely registered that Charlotte had even spoken, let alone processed what she’d said. I may have done a good job of convincing her that my motives were entirely innocent in coming to this charming little beachside deli – a pint of beer in one hand and a fork twirling pasta absent-mindedly in the other had seen to that. I’d barely managed to keep up with the tedious small talk that had gone back and forth between us, but it was an effort. What was more of an effort, though, was trying to stop myself screaming out loud in frustration at not even managing to catch a glimpse of my research subject.

Too old. Too young. Wrong hair colour. Too fat. Are you kidding me, Mitch? She wouldn’t eat a hamburger – keep up! Too skinny. Hair too long. Too…… much of a man? Jesus, maybe I should just give this up as a bad job…

But I couldn’t give up. I needed to see her. And I knew, I just knew, that she needed to see me too.

“So I was saying to Justine, ‘I don’t care how much you try to sugar coat it, I will never be able to trust a man with brown shoes!’”

“Will you walk on the beach with me?”

The interruption was blunt, bordering on plain rude, but thankfully, the suggestion was sweet enough for it not to matter one jot. Smiling, Charlotte leant forward and kissed me full on the lips, causing an embarrassingly small twinge of guilt somewhere at the pit of my stomach as she whispered softly in my ear.

“I’d love to.”


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The night was drawing in, the sun setting slowly on the Adelaide skyline, creating a truly breathtaking sight over the perfect white sandy beach and glittering sea-front. All around, couples the same as Charlotte and I were watching intently, fully appreciating the breathtaking beauty of such a sight, and being able to spend it in the company with the one they loved.

Except we weren’t…… well, one of us was…

Unfortunately, as has become the norm for me over recent weeks and months, every single other thought had been driven from my mind, save for the single obsession with something or someone. I didn’t like it. I didn’t want it. But unfortunately, I had next to no control over it – I was doomed to another one of my little “obsessions” until it simply petered out, until my extremely narrowed mind began to slowly widen of its own accord, and finally see the bigger picture once again. It was simply a case of playing the waiting game… unless…

Unless I could satisfy my obsession……?

Charlotte and I continued our slow amble across the twilit white sands of the Adelaide coastline, but for the first time all day, I smiled, suddenly completely at ease with… well, everything! Call it irrational, but suddenly, I knew I’d see Caledonia. I didn’t know how, I didn’t know when or why. But I knew I’d find her. And I also had a strange certainty about the fact that finding her and seeing her wouldn’t do anything to satisfy me. I knew, if anything, it’d make everything worse – more dangerous, higher stakes, bigger reward?

And d’you know what? I loved that.

I wanted it.

Needed it……