oldandjinxed

Megan Summers paced around her office. "Nervous" wasn't the right word, she told herself. "Anxious," that was it. She was anxious. There was every possibility this meeting could go south in a hurry, three decades of hard experience had taught her that much. For almost twenty years she had been an active competitor in the old NEON league, before retiring and founding the LWA. Her signature red-white-and-blue leotard was displayed prominently in her office, along with various newspaper clippings of the "glory days." But all that was behind her, as she focused her efforts on bringing up the next generation of female wrestlers. A small indie promotion at first, the LWA had flourished into a niche but well-received league full of colorful characters and dedicated fans. Now it was all on the verge of slipping though her fingers, unless she could broker a truce. Almost on cue, the lights in her office went out. How does she DO that? Megan wondered, and as the lights came back on