A Wolf In Sheep's Clothing: Part 1
Jun 30, 2013 4:46:24 GMT -5
Terry Roberts, Jeff Purse, and 1 more like this
Post by Deleted on Jun 30, 2013 4:46:24 GMT -5
Survey for a moment the masses with scrutiny. Do not blindly accept what glimmers at the forefront in it's twisted facade of distinction. The masses, they believe they need a hero, when in fact they simply yearn for one. Each of them masking their own sorrow and disappointment each time that they turn on the television set to watch the evening news, or perhaps open a newspaper at day's beginning. They silently sulk to themselves as they read the printed words of horror that plague the press on a daily basis. They watch on as anchors deliver solemn news of death, destruction and torture. Where was their hero? They ask. The masses, they guise their fear with hope. The hope that each individual is inherently good inside, and that when faced with certain peril the hero in us all will emerge. The reality is that most are just waiting to be rescued. They wait for someone who has the fortitude, courage and integrity that is lacking in the majority of today's society. They linger in solitude, idly squandering the time that they have been given, simply for the blind expectation that a hero was somewhere in their midst. They wait ... for someone to deliver them from the shallow, pathetic existence that they call life.
That is the problem with today's masses. They expect too much, and they do little. None of them willing to take accountability for their own mortality. Instead, they look to the stars at night as they fall to their knees and they beg and they plead and they hope, that something better awaits them. They notice someone like myself; confident, staunch, unyielding and comfortable ... and they wonder. They wonder how it is that they are incapable of achieving the things in life that they desire, and how at the snap of a finger, anything that I so wish is laid at my feet. These are the sheep who cling to someone, anyone who can offer what they are incapable of: results. It is through my labor, and through my tenacity that I have earned my place in this world. The meek shall always want, while the cunning shall always take for themselves.
I hold no remorse within my inner spirit for the deeds which I have carried out. The world is nothing more but a jungle. There are predators, and there are prey. I have always been a predator. I have always sought to quell my own hunger through the sacrificial blood of others. It is survival of the fittest, and I am the top of the food chain. When you gaze into my eyes, understand that no sympathy lurks behind them. There is not empathy, only cunning. I am not sorrowful, only calculating. You have looked upon these callous eyes before, but you've forgotten what I am. You've forgotten the malevolence that courses through my veins. You were convinced that the execrable nature of my being had subsided. That was your mistake. A hero, is only a hero if they can convince the masses of their deeds. A predator, will not go hungry if they can convince the flock, that it is one of their own.
- Sarah Twilight
April 29th 2012
-Just following the Aftermath PPV
It is quiet. The last lingering presence of what had been a roaring, screaming crowd had cleared out from the corridors of the arena. Vendors have taken their wares, packing up for the next event in another city, for another day. Dreams had been lived that night. Moments that everyone would remember. Somewhere in this twisted maze of corridors and doorways, Sarah Twilight sits in her locker room for the final moments she would spend in this arena. Another night, another opportunity slipping through her fingers like sands of the hourglass. The stunning redhead sits there on the long bench of her room, freshly showered and packing the last of her belongings into her duffel bag. Her wrestling boots, athletic tape and ring gear has all been laid neatly into the bag. She is dressed casually now. A white crop top is covered over by a mid-cut black denim vest. Matching jeans accentuate her high heeled leather boots. The Mistress of Mischief takes her WCF Tag Team Championship, looking at it. She narrows her eyes in disgust as she tosses it into the duffel bag with the rest of her things. Tonight, she had failed to capture the WCF World Championship, and it angered her greatly.
She zips the bag and slings it over her shoulder, harshly slamming her hand across the light switch on her way out into the hallway. Sarah brushes a hand through her gorgeous red locks as she sighs. Making her way down the corridor, her heels click and clack against the concrete floor below, echoing through the emptiness in its entirety. A scowl remains on her face as she glares ahead toward the parking lot. As she fast approaches, a voice calls out to her.
"There you are, Sarah. I've been looking for you."
The clicking of Sarah's heels comes to a halt as she stops mid-pace. She turns, looking over her shoulder as her hair whips around flawlessly. It is not often that anyone goes looking for Sarah Twilight. And with the mood she currently carried, it probably wasn't wise for anyone to be doing such. As she turns, her eyes lock onto a man just about halfway down the corridor from where she was standing. She didn't quite recognize him immediately despite his being on the roster. In fact, at this particular point in time, not many people noticed him at all. This man dressed in a fine tan Armani suit and perfectly shined brown loafers was of course, Eric Price. He slowly approaches Sarah, who continues to glare at him. Eric begins applauding her with a smile on his face.
Eric Price: That was quite impressive. Two times you have competed this evening, and both times you have delivered I must say.
Sarah's eyes narrow at him as he continues to draw closer toward her. She tilts her head slightly and is very blunt with her response as the praise meant little, if anything at all to her.
Sarah: What do you want?
Eric ceases the applause and can easily see that Sarah is not in any form to be trifled with. He holds up his hands in a peace offering manner as she abandons his efforts of getting any closer to her.
Eric Price: Now I understand you are in a less than appreciative mood right now. But believe me, you have nothing at all to regret. In this short time you've nipped at the heels of the World Champion twice. I am certain that the world has taken notice.
Sarah shakes her head as she turns away from him. No longer wanting to participate in the conversation. She simply offers up her final response as frankly as it could be put.
Sarah: I don't give a shit about the world. Never have, never will.
Eric sighs, realizing that approaching her with any attempts at conversation would not be nearly as easy as he had imagined. He tries to get straight to the point in the hopes that it would break the ice.
Eric Price: Look, I just have a business proposition for you. That is all I was wanting to discuss.
Sarah again stops in her place and turns back to look at Eric. She smirks at him very sarcastically, almost beginning to chuckle.
Sarah: I don't do "business propositions." So save your breath for someone who cares.
Eric frowns a bit. However, he is not ready to give up. Another approach, perhaps will persuade her. He thinks quickly, not wanting to miss the opportunity as she again turns toward the parking lot. He calls out without hesitation.
Eric Price: You want to be the best professional wrestler on the planet, correct?
Once more she stops. This time, the duffel bag on her shoulder is slid from its place and hits the floor below. Eric suddenly notices a sinking feeling in his stomach. She turns around, staring at him with perhaps the most sinister gaze he's ever seen in his life. And she appears completely incensed.
Sarah: Excuse me? What did you just say you little shit?
The venom to her tone is unmistakable. Her words my have posed a question, however her tone delivers the message loud and clear. Eric knows he is in danger and he rambles off something, anything to alter the course.
Eric Price: What I meant ... you are the best professional wrestler. That's obvious ... I was referring to your being recognized as the very best. Being appreciated for your efforts. That's the only thing I was implying.
Eric backs up a few steps as he speaks. Sarah had now been approaching him. Although she stops as he finishes his statement. Once again she tilts her head, curious as to what he was getting at. Eric stops moving backward as he sees her threatening advance cease. He composes himself for a mere second before continuing to try and offer up his proposition.
Eric Price: I want to help you. I want to see to it that you are recognized as the superior competitor that you are. I am tired of seeing the Jonny Fly's and Corey Black's of the world stealing the spotlight for themselves while the rest of us go unnoticed. It simply isn't fair, and we don't have to stand for it!
This was a side of Eric no one on the roster had seen before. The man was currently stuck in the middle of a group that was going no where fast, though he did have some crowd support. However, that is exactly how Sarah viewed him as well, so his argument wasn't very convincing. She folds her arms and flat out laughs at him. Eric's face turns a bit red as this was not exactly the response he had expected.
Sarah: You're a fucking nobody. What the hell can YOU possibly help ME with?
Eric is a bit offended by the remarks. However, he was looking to accomplish something here, and having an argument with Sarah was most definitely not going to allow that to happen. Eric bites his tongue and instead offers up some reasoning to back his claims.
Eric Price: Power. With money comes power Ms. Twilight. And that is something I have no shortage of. I have to ability to influence ... we'll say a few things to take place.
Sarah once again narrows her eyes at him and takes a few steps in his direction.
Sarah: And I have the ability to rip your tongue from your mouth and shove it up your ass! Now quit the fucking bullshit and tell me what the hell it is you are talking about, before I make that happen!
Eric is a bit flustered at the veracity of her comments. He was not surprised though as this was a good majority of the reason he'd approached her in the first place. Her ability to say something and know with complete certainty that she would carry out her words was something he admired a great deal. Her overwhelming confidence was exactly the reason he'd made this decision to attempt to work something out.
Eric Price: Listen, I am plagued by a burden just as you are. Do you honestly believe that I intend to carry The Mulisha for the duration of my career? And you. You are carrying one hundred pounds of excess around with you that certainly needs to be trimmed. I have no doubt in my mind that you would be holding the WCF World Championship now if it hadn't been for having to carry your fast food friend earlier in the evening.
Sarah rolls her eyes.
Sarah: I could give two shits about that pathetic lap dog.
She shakes her head in disgust, glancing back at the duffel bag that contained her half of the WCF Tag Team Championship. Her lip curls in anger as it was apparent she did in fact blame Ayria Adams for having to compete twice that night, and for having had the WCF Championship escape her grasp yet again. She looks back at Eric.
Sarah: I am the best professional wrestler on the face of this Earth! And I am the best fucking thing to ever happen to this company. I should be world champion, right fucking now! So you tell me what the fuck it is that you can do that's going to change this? If tossing around some cash was going to make a difference ... why is it that I have been main eventing and you, well you've just been doing nothing?
Again the words sting. It was obvious that Sarah was not one to hold back on her exact thoughts. The way her emerald eyes glared at him, he knew she looked down upon him as a lesser being to her. Any one else would have told her to fuck off by now and abandoned any ideas of trying to work something out with her. However, for whatever reason, this loathsome personality of hers somehow drew him in. Again, he takes the insults in stride and continues his pitch.
Eric Price: I am suggesting that we eliminate the dead weight and start fresh. That we --
Sarah: You think I'm going to just fucking hand the championship that I earned over to someone just to dump a fucking four foot nothing loser?!
She interrupts him with spite and anger in her tone. Eric immediately shakes his head to get through the idea that he wasn't suggesting that at all.
Eric Price: No no, not at all. I am suggesting that we buy out your contract from Seth Lerch.
Sarah folds her arms and looks at him oddly. Obviously this was making less sense by the minute. Eric notices that he's losing her patience again rather quickly.
Eric Price: You signed a term with the company, correct? ... Well you simply buy out that term which entitles you to complete it at a time of your own choosing. This simply means that once in effect, you own the terms to your own contract and may execute your right to compete at any given time.
Sarah scowls at him, having seriously lost her patience with him by this point.
Sarah: And why the FUCK would I need to do that?!
Eric Price: It allows you to dump that happy meal without ever having to jeopardize the championships that you have earned. Yes, I say championships because face it, Ayria Adams is simply a placeholder. It is very clear to me that Sarah Twilight is the tag team champions. Take a vacation, do whatever you so desire and when the time is right, you take your rightful place here in the company.
Sarah again smirks at him with unambiguous sarcasm as she cackles nefariously.
Sarah: When the time is right? That time is whenever the fuck I say it is! I do not need some pathetic little twit explaining to ME how it is that I am going to take what I want. I don't give a shit about you, or anyone else for that matter! You want to talk about starting over? I can START by disemboweling the next stupid fuck who wants to chit chat. Hows that for a good start, eh?
This was probably the absolute worst time ever to make a snide comment. But it was all Eric had left at this point. Obviously she wasn't that much of a team player and offering his assistance wasn't going to cut it. He prepares for the unavoidable violence that will undoubtedly occur after he speaks. And he does.
Eric Price: Well obviously you have it all figured out, Ms. Twilight. You go ahead and choose whatever time you'd like to take your rightful place among the upper echelon. However, please do explain why tonight wasn't that time?
Enraged, Sarah grabs Eric by the collar of his suit and shoves him forcefully against the wall. Her emerald eyes now having grown completely cold and her expression bitter and full of hatred. Her lips curl downward with an almost sadistic frown through gritted teeth as she huffs with fury. Eric expects the worst. Sarah simply stares at him for a few long moments as she continues to boil over with anger. Finally, she shoves him back as she lets go of his collar. Eric looks down at his arms and torso, surprised that he remains unscathed.
Sarah: We do this MY way ... you understand? You may think you have money and power, but I run the show.
Eric nods.
Sarah: I don't give a fuck what you want to accomplish. I am doing what I want to do, and that is my only concern. You want to come along for the ride? FINE! But I tell you now, you get in my way ... and I will dismantle you like you have never been before. Got it?
Again Eric nods as he brushes himself off and steps forward from the wall which he had been pushed into. He looks back up at Sarah after dusting off and he extends his hand.
Eric Price: So ... it's a deal then?
Sarah looks down at his extended hand and shakes her head in disgust at the formalities. She grips his hand tightly, further enforcing her threats as she pulls him close, glaring at him with serious intent.
Sarah: Whatever.
She suddenly lets go of his hand and starts back off toward the parking lot. She collects her duffel bag once again along the way. Eric folds his arms now and leans against the wall, smiling as he watches her leave. He quietly comments to himself.
Eric Price: Things are going to change around here ... sooner than anyone thinks.
This scene fades out.
June 3rd 2012
-Just outside the offices of Seth Lerch
Eric Price paces back and forth nervously just outside of Seth Lerch's office. Inside, Sarah Twilight is currently in the process of buying out the rights to her own contract. Per agreement, this has been done with money given to her by Eric himself. Eric is wearing a white Polo shirt and black slacks as well as a comfortable pair of black dress shoes. He constantly stares down at his rolex, indicating that the meeting has been going on for some time. The pacing continues and Eric rubs his hands over his face a few times apprehensively. Finally, the door to the office opens and Eric quickly races down the hall and turns the corner in an effort not to be seen. A confident, mirthful Sarah emerges from the room. A callous smirk upon her face. She is wearing a snug purple tee, and a pair of blue denim jeans along with a pair of white Nike sneakers, complete with purple swoosh and trim. Her silver pentacle dangles from her neck as always. Ayria Adams exits just behind her, head down, tears forming in her eyes. Ayria turns to offer one final plea to her now former tag partner. However, Sarah had already left her in the dust and began down the hall. Once Ayria is out of sight, Eric peeks his head out from around the corner and motions Sarah toward him. The ravishing redhead swaggers her way toward him arrogantly. The two of them disappear down the corridor to remain out of sight.
Eric Price: How did it go?
Sarah: It's done.
Eric Price: And your Sausage Mcgriddle friend? How did she take it?
Sarah scowls at him.
Eric Price: What?
Sarah: Does it look like I give a shit about her?
Eric Price: I was simply curious, that's all.
Sarah rolls her eyes and places her hand upon her hips, shaking her head.
Sarah: She was fired, okay? Not like that wasn't a given. Fucking waste of space.
Eric laughs a bit. He looks around momentarily to ensure that no one was within earshot and comments to Sarah.
Eric Price: Do you ever smile at all? Because you realize you will need to learn how to be a bit more friendly if we're going to do this your way.
Sarah gives him a look of "what is that supposed to mean?" as her jaw drops a bit at the comment.
Sarah: I know what the hell I need to do. It was my idea. Don't you concern yourself with me. It's you who I'm worried will fuck this up.
Eric does a double take and looks at her in disbelief.
Eric Price: Me?! I'm not the one who can't even look at someone without wanting to strangle them ... or at the very least do them some form of bodily harm!
Sarah: And that's the problem. You want to make it around here? Stop giving a fuck about what the sheep want, and start caring about what it is that you want. You want to stop being a pathetic loser? Then fucking do it.
Eric Price: Yes, you've been very clear with that. Though I still don't understand why it is that you intend to pander to them during this process.
For the first time ever, Eric looks at Sarah's face to see true happiness as she prepares her response. The sick, sadistic smirk upon her face was about as close to a genuine smile as he had ever seen before. Her emerald eyes radiated with a demented jubilance that only someone as depraved as she was would find in answering such a question. And she was all too enthralled to offer her response. Eric looks almost frightened to listen to it.
Sarah: It will be satisfying, Eric. To watch the sheep place their trust, their hopes and their dreams into the palm of my hand so that I can crush them into dust along with their heroes. You haven't any idea what I desire Eric. I will become the World Champion ... but that is merely the icing on the cake. My euphoria will be looking into the eyes of the damned and watching them lose a piece of their souls. Their misery brings my joy. When children cling to their mother's bosom to be shielded from the horrifying realities of who I am ... the black heart that beats within my chest pumps another gallon of venom into my veins. The more that they suffer, the more I thrive. My appetite for destruction in insatiable, and there are not enough carcasses on this roster to support it. But the sheep ... oh the sheep will quell my hunger. Ensuring that they suffer every moment alongside their heroes is reward in of itself. You, Eric ... believe that power is amassed through wealth. I have always known it is amassed through fear!
Eric blinks a few times at the response, almost unsure of what to say. In fact, he doesn't think much about his response ... it just spills out.
Eric Price: You are without a doubt the most vile, twisted and diabolical woman I've ever laid eyes upon. Truthfully ... I kinda like it.
Sarah shakes her head at him with a look of disdain.
Sarah: You keep that little worm of yours in your pants. You do as I said, and stop giving a shit what the sheep want, and you'll be in a position to be useful. Now, I have a flight back to L.A.
Eric reaches into his pocket and removes a small business card. He hands it to Sarah.
Eric Price: Well, if you're going to be in Los Angeles learning how to be ... well less malicious than you are now, I would suggest you at least go and see this man.
Sarah takes hold of the business card and looks at it. It reads "David Monati - Attorney at Law." She squints her eyes a bit with a look of confusion upon her face as she holds the card in front of her.
Sarah: Why the fuck do you want me to go see an attorney?
Eric chuckles.
Eric Price: Believe me, if there is anyone who can look someone in the eye with a smile while the whole time being a back stabbing leech, it's an attorney.
Sarah smirks and nods, placing the card into her pocket. Once more, the two look around to make sure no one is within sight before parting ways. This scene now fades out.
September 30th 2012 - 8:46PM PST
-Less than an hour removed from WAR XI
The cool Southern California evening breeze blows softly on this September night. Sarah Twilight sits propped on her sofa as the cool air enters through the screen doors of her patio into her living room. Sarah is wearing a belly cut white tank top and a pair of purple shorts that ride high up her thighs. A plain pair of white ankle socks cover her feet and her astounding red hair is pinned up into a wide ponytail as her bangs hang over her face in a slightly messy fashion. It is apparent she is dressed down for the evening and sits comfortably in front of the television. A small saucer of carrots rests in her lap and she chews on one of the snacks, her remote in hand. She is watching the remainder of the WAR match on her TiVo set that she had recorded. The event had ended nearly and hour ago and she was finally catching up with it. She smirks and chuckles softly a few times as she watches on, when suddenly the phone rings. She tries to ignore it and continues watching the event. She lets her voice mail pick up the call, but only a few moments later, it rings again.
Sarah: UGH!
She grabs the phone from the table beside her and answers. She is finishing chewing the last bit of carrot she has just taken a bite of as she puts the receiver to her ear.
Sarah: Yeah?
Is all she manages to say as she finally finishes up the carrot. Her attention isn't exactly focused on the person on the other end of the phone. However, after some excited rambling, she sighs and pauses the pay per view event to listen.
Sarah: Wait, what? Slow down.
A very irate and frustrated Eric Price is losing it on the other end of the line.
(on phone) Eric Price: This can't stand! Did you see? Did you see?! I cannot stomach another moment of the Pantheon! I had him. That match was mine! Purse does not deserve to be the World Champion!
Sarah sighs again, very agitated now as she just shakes her head and turns the television off.
Sarah: Well thanks for ruining it for me, asshole.
(on phone) Eric Price: What? You mean you haven't seen it?!
Sarah: I was just at the point where Adam Young eliminated Corey Black. I haven't laughed that hard in forever. Anyway, what the fuck you mean Jeff Purse is champion? That isn't part of the plan, idiot. Jeff Purse is a fucking nobody. How does a fucking nobody become World Champion, Eric? HOW?!
(on phone) Eric Price: It's the Pantheon! Jonny Fly and his band of followers. It's not right. This is simply ridiculous. I have done everything we have discussed! I put him through misery and now ... UGH I can't stand to think of it. How? How does this happen? I know I can beat Purse. There's no question. We have to do something. We have to --
Sarah holds the phone away from her ear and cups her hand over the mouthpiece as she rolls her eyes shaking her head as she comments aloud to herself out of frustration.
Sarah: Do I have to fucking do everything myself? UGH!
She removes her hand from the mouthpiece and places the phone back to her ear only to find Eric still rambling on like a madman.
(on phone) Eric Price: I want him gone! I don't care what we have to do. I am sick of playing second fiddle to the Pantheon. That's what it is, the numbers. Meanwhile I'm here and you are living it up on the beach! You've been gone four months now. How long does it take you to learn to just pretend to be nice? We had a deal. I paid for this vacation of yours and you said you would reciprocate. Well you need to be here NOW damnit! We need to set this in motion.
Sarah places the saucer on the coffee table as she stands up. She begins talking over Eric, a bit angrily.
Sarah: You're losing your shit Eric. You need to calm the fuck down or you're going to ruin the whole thing.
(on phone) Eric Price: Calm down? Calm down?! You aren't listening to me! You need to be here now instead of sitting on your ass! We had a deal! We had a deal!
Again Sarah raises her voice and starts talking over Eric through gritted teeth.
Sarah: And I told you that if you fuck this up, I am going to rip you apart! I told you that I would be back when I am good and ready. Until then you just have to deal with it.
Eric responds with some courage here, most likely because this IS an over the phone conversation and...he is in Pennsylvania right now, Sarah is across the damn country.
(on phone) Eric Price: No! No I will not just deal with it. I have kept every part of the bargain and now it's up to you. You want to be a big shot again? Then do it! Stop barking orders from your couch!
Sarah: I should fly to Reading right fucking now and rip your spine out you little shit!
(on phone) Eric Price: You do that. And while you're at it, why don't you kiss my ass!
Sarah: Ooohhoooho, you're dead mother fucker.
(on phone) Eric Price: Sure, just throw away that four months of 'supposedly' working on your attitude. Oh is that it?
Sarah scowls some more and has to try very hard to bite her tongue here because in this instance, he was actually right. If she blew up, it could send the entire thing into a tailspin. After taking a few moments to cool her jets, Eric senses the opening.
(on phone) Eric Price: Now then. We'll be traveling to Los Angeles on the twenty first. Do you think you can perhaps ... oh I don't know, show up?
Sarah: What? No! That's too soon.
(on phone) Eric Price: It's your hometown. Where better to elicit the adoration of the fans?
Sarah is still shaking her head at the proposition. In reality, even with the idea she had come up with, the idea of ever being nice to the sheep was not something she looked forward to. After four months however, it seems as though she is just prolonging it out of her own discomfort with the thought of being ... their hero. However, as Eric continues to give off all the valid reasons as to why she should pull the trigger on this operation on the twenty first of October, Sarah makes her way into her kitchen. She opens one of the drawers where she'd store bills and other various papers and documents. She rifles through the paperwork and pulls out a small slip of paper. She looks down at it with an evil grin. There written in blue ink, the name "Franky" is scrawled across the yellow scrap along with a phone number. Sarah's emerald eyes light up mischievously as she responds now to Eric's request.
Sarah: Actually ... I think I can make that work.
She looks down at the scrap of paper once more as her grin grows wider.
Sarah: Yes, I think it's about time that this wolf entered the flock.
She cackles as the thoughts of what was yet to come circled through her mind. She hangs up the phone to a most likely elated Eric Price. This scene fades.
January 7th 2013 - 2:46am
- Several hours after One had gone off air.
- Eric Price's Private Hotel Party
Champagne is flowing and celebration is still in full swing even into the late hours as the newly crowned World Champion, Eric Price is living it up. Future on screen associates, Gravedigger and Davey Ortega as well as various members of MS-13 are enjoying the good life. There are random women in many of their arms and the mood is completely joyous. Eric's shoulders are covered in what appears to be confetti and streamers sound off every so often. This resembles a New Year's Eve celebration, but instead, it is the celebratory excitement of Jeff Purse's championship reign coming to an end and Eric Price's beginning. As the party continues on, the door to the large hotel banquet hall is pushed open and Sarah Twilight enters the room. She is still bandaged up from the hellacious battle she'd had with Famine of the Vile the night before. She is received with a round of applause by the occupants of the room.
Eric Price: There she is! I am so glad you could make the festivities.
Sarah casually walks toward one of the tables and has a seat, off commenting to Eric's welcome. Though Eric never hears it.
Sarah: Whatever.
Eric dances his way over to her table and takes a seat beside her.
Eric Price: Oh the looks on their faces was ... dare I say it? Priceless! Every last one of them believed you were going to see to it that Purse retained. Oh I tell you Sarah, this concept of watching their dreams dashed is quite invigorating. I haven't enjoyed myself quite this much in some time.
Sarah looks over at Eric and flashes him a very sarcastic smile, with an equally sarcastic remark.
Sarah: Well, I'm glad you're enjoying yourself so fucking much.
Eric looks a bit confused and the smile disappears from his face as he leans in, wondering what was going on.
Eric Price: What's wrong? Everything is going exactly how we discussed.
Sarah glares back at Eric, clearly she wasn't in a good mood.
Sarah: That's great Eric. Just fucking great. You know what isn't great? The smiling, and the autographs, and the little brats who want a picture. The sheep and their fucking stupid questions. This entire thing is getting tiresome to me and I am more than quite ready to squeeze the life out of every last ounce of hope that they have. Because if I have to listen to one more pathetic, smelly little pimple faced shit ask me if I am single again ... I am going to fucking murder someone!
As she raised her voice, this causes several people in the party to look in their direction. Sarah remains exteremly frustrated and angry. Eric holds up a hand to the other guests that he would resolve the situation.
Eric Price: Sarah, you know if you that now, it will undo everything. Look at how far we've come with this. We can't turn back now.
Sarah slams her fists down onto the table, startling everyone, including Eric.
Sarah: No! I've fucking HAD IT! I can't stand them. I can't stand their stupidity, I can't stand the fact that as it stands ... I am seen to be associated with those .... those fucking mindless drones. They line up in droves and chant my name in some attempt to give a purpose to their meaningless lives. It's disgusting! I am NOT their damn hero. I am exactly the opposite, and I want nothing more than to reach into the ribcage of their existence and rip their heart from it!
Eric waves his hands in front of Sarah a few times, as he can't believe she is already to a breaking point with putting up with the crowd.
Eric Price: For God's sakes get a hold of yourself! Of course they are uneducated sheep. This is exactly what you wanted. To lure them in to that false sense of comfort. They adore you. They will comply with everything you say and do on a whim. Right now Sarah, you are the puppet master pulling the strings.
Eric sighs.
Eric Price: Listen, just a short while longer and you will have everything that you want. Let's not spoil a good thing, huh? If it is of any consolation, they were wounded last night as you counted Purse's shoulders for three. It was ... if you will, a prelude of things to come.
Sarah continues to glare at Eric as he speaks. She was somewhat satisfied with the dagger having been driven into their spirit as Purse's championship reign had ended. However, this was hardly enough. She very reluctantly decides to continue the charade of being 'nice.' However, this does not go without warning ... and a cost.
Sarah: You owe me, Eric. You fucking owe me.
She points her index finger in his face, wagging it at him.
Sarah: I took care of your damn shit with Purse. Now we focus on Fly.
Eric grins.
Eric Price: Oh don't worry. Jonny Fly will be far too preoccupied with his champion walking out to notice that his most beloved shining star is secretly plotting his demise ... as well as the downfall of the Pantheon.
Sarah's scowl finally transforms itself into a twisted grin of her own. She nods.
Sarah: Good, because I want this to be as slow ... and as painful as possible.
The two of them laugh damn near maniacally for a moment before returning to the party in progress. This scene fades.
January 14th 2013
-Slam has been live on air for 15 minutes.
Eric Price is backstage in his locker room pacing back and forth nervously. He is on his cell phone and is almost ripping his own hair out. The WCF World Championship closely guarded as he clutches it in his free hand.
Eric Price: Come on pick up, pick up!
Quietly behind him as he speaks, Sarah Twilight slips into the room unnoticed by anyone outside. She is dressed in a black shoulder sleeved button up top and a pair of dark blue denim jeans as well as a pair of leather boots. Her silver pentacle dangles from her necklace as usual. She quietly closes the door behind her, making certain that no one saw her. Eric turns around as he continues to pace back and forth and nearly jumps out of his skin.
Eric Price: GAH!!
Sarah holds a finger to her lips and motions for Eric to shush himself. Eric quickly hangs up the phone and places it into his pocket. He approaches Sarah, speaking in a whispered tone.
Eric Price: What are you doing in here? Do you know what will happen if people see us together?
Sarah smirks, shaking her head.
Sarah: Like I give a shit.
Eric is thrown into more worry by her flippant remark. He is obviously already pretty stressed.
Sarah: What the hell is your problem now?
Eric Price: Did you not see what he did? Fly! He's forcing me to have a rematch with Purse next week.
Sarah chuckles a bit.
Sarah: You are such a pussy.
Eric growls a bit at the remark. But in reality, he did not want another match against Purse after his reign had just begun.
Eric Price: Those comments aside, I was trying to contact someone to handle this situation for me.
Sarah rolls her eyes at him.
Sarah: What are you going to do, Eric? Get a doctor's note?
She shakes her head and folds her arms.
Eric Price: You know, that's not a bad idea.
Sarah hauls her hand back and slaps Eric across the face ... HARD. Eric is taken by surprise and cringes at the stinging slap, rubbing his reddened cheek.
Eric Price: What the hell was that for?!
Sarah: For you being a fucking idiot. You want to take care of shit? Get rid of him. Plain and simple. Stop being a damn bitch about it.
Eric ponders this for a moment. A light bulb suddenly goes off and he reaches into his pocket, removing a set of keys.
Eric Price: Brilliant! I'll simply have a few of the guy lock Purse into the trunk of my rental car until the show is over. When he fails to show to sign for his rematch, Fly will have no choice but to award my victory via forfeit. This is great!
Sarah snatches the keys from Eric's hand and shakes her head at him in disgust once more. Her facial expression was hardly showing any excitement for the idea.
Sarah: I'll handle it ... as usual.
She places the keys in her pocket and turns to exit the room. Eric calls out in an almost pleading fashion.
Eric Price: Wait ... wait! What are you going to do?
Sarah never looks back at Eric, but that ever so sinister grin forms upon her face as she pauses in front of the door. Her icy eyes filled with mischievous intent and the depth of her pure black irises peered a glimpse into the window of the soulless, remorseless evil that festered within.
Sarah: I'm going to have some fun ... for once.
She exits the room quickly without being noticed. The frightening joy with which she hurried off to carry out the deed was somewhat disturbing ... even to Eric. He sighs, wondering what she could possibly have meant.
Eric Price: Oh dear ...
A little while later ...
Sarah enters the parking garage area of the arena, setting out for Eric's rental car. She spots a few vehicles alone in the maintenance area. The cunning redhead looks around to make certain the coast was clear and she quickly works to remove the license plates from one of them. Once she is able to get the fixtures from the vehicle, she quickly moves on. Entering the main area of the garage where the talent would park, she was clear of ever being noticed from the maintenance area. After moving along a few rows of cars, she spots the black BMW that Eric had rented. Sarah gets down low to avoid any detection as she affixes the stolen license plates to the vehicle, covering over the existing plates. Once the task is complete, the sinister woman enters the car on the driver's side and waits ... patiently.
It isn't long before Jeff Purse finds his own way into the parking area, searching for his Lincoln Navigator. He scratches his head as he peers out over the various vehicles and it is apparent he just can't seem to remember where he parked. Finally he passes along the row where Sarah sat in wait. She places the key into the ignition and starts the car. The headlights immediately turn on automatically to compensate for the dimly lit garage. Jeff is blinded by the lights and turns away, still trying to figure out where his Navigator was parked. Sarah grins with an evil amusement to the situation at hand. She revs the engine a few times and Jeff quickens his pace in continuing the search for his vehicle. Sarah throws the BMW into gear.
Sarah: It's too bad, Jeff. Eric was simply going to lock you in the trunk for a few hours because he is afraid of you. Me? I just don't fucking like you!
She comments to herself as she slams her foot down on the gas and the car peels out from it's parked position. Jeff starts moving, pressing his keychain rapidly. Hoping desperately to hear the beep of his alarm. The BMW races at him, Sarah completely floors the gas pedal in the short distance she has to travel to catch Purse. Jeff turns around at the last moment as the BMW SLAMS into him, sending him rolling over the hood, up and over the entire length of the car and there is a sickening CRACK as Jeff's body hits the concrete behind her. The wheels on the BMW come to screeching halt as Jeff lies on his back, motionless. Sarah rolls the window down and peaks out, looking back at Jeff. His is far too hurt to ever look in her direction and notice who had struck him. However his groans of pain indicate that he is still alive.
Sarah: I suppose this is going to be slow and painful for you after all.
She cackles as she throws the car into reverse. She was intent on finishing the job. Jeff lays there helpless, unable to move as Sarah begins backing the car toward him. However, it isn't long before various footsteps are heard rushing the corridor leading into the parking lot and voices are heard.
"We need medics NOW! Purse has been hit! I repeat, he's been hit!"
Sarah glances toward the origin of the sounds and then back at Purse. She contemplates going through with finishing the job anyhow. But the staff draw closer very quickly.
Sarah: Fuck.
She instead rolls the tinted window back up and places the car into drive, peeling out JUST as help arrives on scene. No one manages to catch a glimpse of the driver.
A few hours later....
Sarah is seated comfortably back her hotel. The entire WCF was in an uproar over what had happened to Jeff Purse. The Mistress of Mischief remains without a care in the world as she remains stretched out on the sofa in her hotel room, one knee poised up and her hand rested against it. She coats her fingernails with clear nail polish as if nothing at all had happened. She has changed for the evening and is simply in a white tee shirt and baby blue sweat pants. Her bare feet enjoying the cool air of the temperature controlled hotel suite. She dips the small brush and laps up some of the transparent lacquer, carefully brushing it against each of her fingernails. A sudden knock at the door does not disturb her concentration of applying the coat. After a few moments, Eric Price decides to let himself into the room anyhow and he is damn near losing his mind. He storms straight into into the room.
Eric Price: I--
Sarah very casually and calmly interrupts him before he has the chance to speak.
Sarah: Did anyone see you come in?
Eric is a bit dumbfounded by her very nonchalant attitude toward the entire situation.
Eric Price: What? No. I--
Sarah: And no one followed you here?
Again she interrupts him. However she has not at all to this point ever bothered to look up at him. Instead, she continues away at her work. Turning her hand to the side to apply the lacquer to her thumb nail. She strokes the brush the entire length of the nails and repeats as Eric just stands there with his jaw agape, looking astonished at this behavior.
Eric Price: No. Of course not.
He places his hands to his forehead in almost pure mental agony.
Eric Price: You ran him down? You ran him down?! Do you know what is going to happen? Fly is going to make my life miserable for this! Everyone is going to assume it was me. That was MY car!
Sarah just idly continues painting her nails. Eventually she offers up a small smirk, but still never bothers to look up at Eric.
Sarah: No one is going to do anything. And you know, you should thank me. Now you don't have to worry about competing with him next week.
Eric is nearly beside himself with her very flat answers.
Eric Price: Thank you? I--
Sarah: You're welcome.
Again, Sarah cuts him off, sarcastically accepting his thanks, despite that not being the case.
Eric Price: What am I going to do about this? Everyone is going to assume it was me. Jonny Fly is going to have my head for this! You've just ... dear God, I think you've ruined my career!
Sarah finally finishes painting the clear coat onto her fingernails and she places the bottle down on the floor beside the couch. She stands, waving her hands about a few times in an effort to dry the polish. She once more laughs at Eric.
Sarah: Is he dead?
Eric's eyes almost pop out of his head at that question.
Eric Price: WHAT?!
Sarah's demeanor does not change as she very matter-of-factly states the question again.
Sarah: Jeff Purse, is the fucker dead, or not?
Eric almost can't believe he is having this conversation right now, he answers agitatedly.
Eric Price: No, he isn't dead. He's severly injured. Possibly for quite some time. This doesn't help you know. I need to know what the hell you expect me to do about Fly and the Pantheon? This is all going to come down on me. You and I both know it is.
Sarah smirks again, and this isn't helping to settle Eric's nerves at all.
Sarah: So he's in the hospital I take it?
Eric is losing his grip at this point.
Eric Price: Yes, he's in the hospital. Why do you keep asking these things? I need help!
Sarah finally turns to Eric and pats him on the shoulder with a very callous, and even frightening smile.
Sarah: Don't worry. No one is going to do anything. Trust me.
Eric shakes his head in utter disbelief.
Eric Price: You can't be serious here. Come on, you nearly killed the man! The Pantheon is in control and he is one of them. How can you say such nonsense?
A soft chuckle escape Sarah's lips as Eric continues to grow more and more paranoid.
Sarah: Jonny Fly.
Eric looks on, confused as all hell. He eyes her expecting something more.
Sarah: His ego will not allow him to push this for very long. That much I promise you. His need to be the center of Pantheon will drive it to its very demise.
Eric listens on, but still has no idea what the hell she was getting at.
Sarah: Fly has ALWAYS sought after my affection. It's in his nature. He envisions himself as some sort of Casanova. How do you think he'll respond when his crippled friend receives the attention and affection he so desperately craves?
Eric Price: He's going to fire me and strip me of the World Championship. That's what he is going to do!
Sarah shakes her head with a smile.
Sarah: He is going to be far too concerned with Jeff's new best friend than to even THINK about who it was that struck him down with a car.
Eric Price: You don't mean ...
Sarah heads past Eric to the chest above the dresser in the suite. She opens the cabinet doors to remove a beautiful bouquet arrangement complete with a small card attached. A balloon sets in the center of the piece and reads "Get Well Soon."
Eric Price: But how ... I mean you struck him with a car. How --
Eric is so flabbergasted by the entire thing that he can't even complete his sentence. Sarah sets the bouquet down on the table and pushes her newly polished finger into his chest as she shakes her head at him.
Sarah: YOU ran him down with a car. Or so everyone will assume, just as you said. However, they need to prove that. And, they can't. Meanwhile, I will have Jeff so wrapped around my finger he won't know whether he is coming or going.
Eric Price: No evidence? That was my rental car. Of course they have evidence!
Sarah reaches down beside the sofa and emerges with two license plates. She slaps them into Eric chest.
Sarah: No it wasn't. No one is going to find out a damn thing, and even if they do. It'll be too late to do anything about it.
She smirks. Eric starts coughing up a laugh as his face forms a smile.
Eric Price: Ha - Ha - you -- oh you devil you!
Eric stares down at the license plates and his nerves begin to calm. As they do, the entire conversation starts to sink in.
Eric Price: So let me get this straight. You just nearly ended a man's life, and now you're going to become his friend as if everything was perfect? You are going to lead him on in order to elicit jealously from his good pal, Jonny Fly? Oh that is sick ... that is demented ... that is ... I like it!
Sarah grins as she plucks one of the flower pedals from the bouquet, releasing it from her fingertips and watching it fall to the carpet below.
Sarah: I'm simply going to finish the job that I began. Honestly, there is much more satisfaction for me this way. Not only have I broken his body ... I will break his heart, mind and spirit as well. Ultimately, he will have nothing left. He will have placed himself in the palm of my hand ... and like the sheep, in the end he'll have his hopes and dreams destroyed at my hands. They are all at my mercy ... and mercy does not exist with me. Jeff Purse is just another pathetic human being just like the rest. He's just unfortunate enough to have found himself in my crosshairs. When I'm through with him ... he'll wish he had died on that pavement tonight.
Sarah takes he foot and steps on the flower pedal beneath her and stamps it out completely. She flashes a frightening smile of innocence as she looks down the bouquet arrangement she's purchased. The card is hand written with care. The workings of a true sociopath in the sincerest form of words.
"I am incredibly sorry to hear about your misfortune. My thoughts are with you for a speedy recovery. Please know that I promise to enact the harshest of punishment with those responsible for this. I can't wait to see you back here Jeff, you are a wonderful person who did not deserve this at all ..."
Love,
To be continued...
That is the problem with today's masses. They expect too much, and they do little. None of them willing to take accountability for their own mortality. Instead, they look to the stars at night as they fall to their knees and they beg and they plead and they hope, that something better awaits them. They notice someone like myself; confident, staunch, unyielding and comfortable ... and they wonder. They wonder how it is that they are incapable of achieving the things in life that they desire, and how at the snap of a finger, anything that I so wish is laid at my feet. These are the sheep who cling to someone, anyone who can offer what they are incapable of: results. It is through my labor, and through my tenacity that I have earned my place in this world. The meek shall always want, while the cunning shall always take for themselves.
I hold no remorse within my inner spirit for the deeds which I have carried out. The world is nothing more but a jungle. There are predators, and there are prey. I have always been a predator. I have always sought to quell my own hunger through the sacrificial blood of others. It is survival of the fittest, and I am the top of the food chain. When you gaze into my eyes, understand that no sympathy lurks behind them. There is not empathy, only cunning. I am not sorrowful, only calculating. You have looked upon these callous eyes before, but you've forgotten what I am. You've forgotten the malevolence that courses through my veins. You were convinced that the execrable nature of my being had subsided. That was your mistake. A hero, is only a hero if they can convince the masses of their deeds. A predator, will not go hungry if they can convince the flock, that it is one of their own.
- Sarah Twilight
April 29th 2012
-Just following the Aftermath PPV
It is quiet. The last lingering presence of what had been a roaring, screaming crowd had cleared out from the corridors of the arena. Vendors have taken their wares, packing up for the next event in another city, for another day. Dreams had been lived that night. Moments that everyone would remember. Somewhere in this twisted maze of corridors and doorways, Sarah Twilight sits in her locker room for the final moments she would spend in this arena. Another night, another opportunity slipping through her fingers like sands of the hourglass. The stunning redhead sits there on the long bench of her room, freshly showered and packing the last of her belongings into her duffel bag. Her wrestling boots, athletic tape and ring gear has all been laid neatly into the bag. She is dressed casually now. A white crop top is covered over by a mid-cut black denim vest. Matching jeans accentuate her high heeled leather boots. The Mistress of Mischief takes her WCF Tag Team Championship, looking at it. She narrows her eyes in disgust as she tosses it into the duffel bag with the rest of her things. Tonight, she had failed to capture the WCF World Championship, and it angered her greatly.
She zips the bag and slings it over her shoulder, harshly slamming her hand across the light switch on her way out into the hallway. Sarah brushes a hand through her gorgeous red locks as she sighs. Making her way down the corridor, her heels click and clack against the concrete floor below, echoing through the emptiness in its entirety. A scowl remains on her face as she glares ahead toward the parking lot. As she fast approaches, a voice calls out to her.
"There you are, Sarah. I've been looking for you."
The clicking of Sarah's heels comes to a halt as she stops mid-pace. She turns, looking over her shoulder as her hair whips around flawlessly. It is not often that anyone goes looking for Sarah Twilight. And with the mood she currently carried, it probably wasn't wise for anyone to be doing such. As she turns, her eyes lock onto a man just about halfway down the corridor from where she was standing. She didn't quite recognize him immediately despite his being on the roster. In fact, at this particular point in time, not many people noticed him at all. This man dressed in a fine tan Armani suit and perfectly shined brown loafers was of course, Eric Price. He slowly approaches Sarah, who continues to glare at him. Eric begins applauding her with a smile on his face.
Eric Price: That was quite impressive. Two times you have competed this evening, and both times you have delivered I must say.
Sarah's eyes narrow at him as he continues to draw closer toward her. She tilts her head slightly and is very blunt with her response as the praise meant little, if anything at all to her.
Sarah: What do you want?
Eric ceases the applause and can easily see that Sarah is not in any form to be trifled with. He holds up his hands in a peace offering manner as she abandons his efforts of getting any closer to her.
Eric Price: Now I understand you are in a less than appreciative mood right now. But believe me, you have nothing at all to regret. In this short time you've nipped at the heels of the World Champion twice. I am certain that the world has taken notice.
Sarah shakes her head as she turns away from him. No longer wanting to participate in the conversation. She simply offers up her final response as frankly as it could be put.
Sarah: I don't give a shit about the world. Never have, never will.
Eric sighs, realizing that approaching her with any attempts at conversation would not be nearly as easy as he had imagined. He tries to get straight to the point in the hopes that it would break the ice.
Eric Price: Look, I just have a business proposition for you. That is all I was wanting to discuss.
Sarah again stops in her place and turns back to look at Eric. She smirks at him very sarcastically, almost beginning to chuckle.
Sarah: I don't do "business propositions." So save your breath for someone who cares.
Eric frowns a bit. However, he is not ready to give up. Another approach, perhaps will persuade her. He thinks quickly, not wanting to miss the opportunity as she again turns toward the parking lot. He calls out without hesitation.
Eric Price: You want to be the best professional wrestler on the planet, correct?
Once more she stops. This time, the duffel bag on her shoulder is slid from its place and hits the floor below. Eric suddenly notices a sinking feeling in his stomach. She turns around, staring at him with perhaps the most sinister gaze he's ever seen in his life. And she appears completely incensed.
Sarah: Excuse me? What did you just say you little shit?
The venom to her tone is unmistakable. Her words my have posed a question, however her tone delivers the message loud and clear. Eric knows he is in danger and he rambles off something, anything to alter the course.
Eric Price: What I meant ... you are the best professional wrestler. That's obvious ... I was referring to your being recognized as the very best. Being appreciated for your efforts. That's the only thing I was implying.
Eric backs up a few steps as he speaks. Sarah had now been approaching him. Although she stops as he finishes his statement. Once again she tilts her head, curious as to what he was getting at. Eric stops moving backward as he sees her threatening advance cease. He composes himself for a mere second before continuing to try and offer up his proposition.
Eric Price: I want to help you. I want to see to it that you are recognized as the superior competitor that you are. I am tired of seeing the Jonny Fly's and Corey Black's of the world stealing the spotlight for themselves while the rest of us go unnoticed. It simply isn't fair, and we don't have to stand for it!
This was a side of Eric no one on the roster had seen before. The man was currently stuck in the middle of a group that was going no where fast, though he did have some crowd support. However, that is exactly how Sarah viewed him as well, so his argument wasn't very convincing. She folds her arms and flat out laughs at him. Eric's face turns a bit red as this was not exactly the response he had expected.
Sarah: You're a fucking nobody. What the hell can YOU possibly help ME with?
Eric is a bit offended by the remarks. However, he was looking to accomplish something here, and having an argument with Sarah was most definitely not going to allow that to happen. Eric bites his tongue and instead offers up some reasoning to back his claims.
Eric Price: Power. With money comes power Ms. Twilight. And that is something I have no shortage of. I have to ability to influence ... we'll say a few things to take place.
Sarah once again narrows her eyes at him and takes a few steps in his direction.
Sarah: And I have the ability to rip your tongue from your mouth and shove it up your ass! Now quit the fucking bullshit and tell me what the hell it is you are talking about, before I make that happen!
Eric is a bit flustered at the veracity of her comments. He was not surprised though as this was a good majority of the reason he'd approached her in the first place. Her ability to say something and know with complete certainty that she would carry out her words was something he admired a great deal. Her overwhelming confidence was exactly the reason he'd made this decision to attempt to work something out.
Eric Price: Listen, I am plagued by a burden just as you are. Do you honestly believe that I intend to carry The Mulisha for the duration of my career? And you. You are carrying one hundred pounds of excess around with you that certainly needs to be trimmed. I have no doubt in my mind that you would be holding the WCF World Championship now if it hadn't been for having to carry your fast food friend earlier in the evening.
Sarah rolls her eyes.
Sarah: I could give two shits about that pathetic lap dog.
She shakes her head in disgust, glancing back at the duffel bag that contained her half of the WCF Tag Team Championship. Her lip curls in anger as it was apparent she did in fact blame Ayria Adams for having to compete twice that night, and for having had the WCF Championship escape her grasp yet again. She looks back at Eric.
Sarah: I am the best professional wrestler on the face of this Earth! And I am the best fucking thing to ever happen to this company. I should be world champion, right fucking now! So you tell me what the fuck it is that you can do that's going to change this? If tossing around some cash was going to make a difference ... why is it that I have been main eventing and you, well you've just been doing nothing?
Again the words sting. It was obvious that Sarah was not one to hold back on her exact thoughts. The way her emerald eyes glared at him, he knew she looked down upon him as a lesser being to her. Any one else would have told her to fuck off by now and abandoned any ideas of trying to work something out with her. However, for whatever reason, this loathsome personality of hers somehow drew him in. Again, he takes the insults in stride and continues his pitch.
Eric Price: I am suggesting that we eliminate the dead weight and start fresh. That we --
Sarah: You think I'm going to just fucking hand the championship that I earned over to someone just to dump a fucking four foot nothing loser?!
She interrupts him with spite and anger in her tone. Eric immediately shakes his head to get through the idea that he wasn't suggesting that at all.
Eric Price: No no, not at all. I am suggesting that we buy out your contract from Seth Lerch.
Sarah folds her arms and looks at him oddly. Obviously this was making less sense by the minute. Eric notices that he's losing her patience again rather quickly.
Eric Price: You signed a term with the company, correct? ... Well you simply buy out that term which entitles you to complete it at a time of your own choosing. This simply means that once in effect, you own the terms to your own contract and may execute your right to compete at any given time.
Sarah scowls at him, having seriously lost her patience with him by this point.
Sarah: And why the FUCK would I need to do that?!
Eric Price: It allows you to dump that happy meal without ever having to jeopardize the championships that you have earned. Yes, I say championships because face it, Ayria Adams is simply a placeholder. It is very clear to me that Sarah Twilight is the tag team champions. Take a vacation, do whatever you so desire and when the time is right, you take your rightful place here in the company.
Sarah again smirks at him with unambiguous sarcasm as she cackles nefariously.
Sarah: When the time is right? That time is whenever the fuck I say it is! I do not need some pathetic little twit explaining to ME how it is that I am going to take what I want. I don't give a shit about you, or anyone else for that matter! You want to talk about starting over? I can START by disemboweling the next stupid fuck who wants to chit chat. Hows that for a good start, eh?
This was probably the absolute worst time ever to make a snide comment. But it was all Eric had left at this point. Obviously she wasn't that much of a team player and offering his assistance wasn't going to cut it. He prepares for the unavoidable violence that will undoubtedly occur after he speaks. And he does.
Eric Price: Well obviously you have it all figured out, Ms. Twilight. You go ahead and choose whatever time you'd like to take your rightful place among the upper echelon. However, please do explain why tonight wasn't that time?
Enraged, Sarah grabs Eric by the collar of his suit and shoves him forcefully against the wall. Her emerald eyes now having grown completely cold and her expression bitter and full of hatred. Her lips curl downward with an almost sadistic frown through gritted teeth as she huffs with fury. Eric expects the worst. Sarah simply stares at him for a few long moments as she continues to boil over with anger. Finally, she shoves him back as she lets go of his collar. Eric looks down at his arms and torso, surprised that he remains unscathed.
Sarah: We do this MY way ... you understand? You may think you have money and power, but I run the show.
Eric nods.
Sarah: I don't give a fuck what you want to accomplish. I am doing what I want to do, and that is my only concern. You want to come along for the ride? FINE! But I tell you now, you get in my way ... and I will dismantle you like you have never been before. Got it?
Again Eric nods as he brushes himself off and steps forward from the wall which he had been pushed into. He looks back up at Sarah after dusting off and he extends his hand.
Eric Price: So ... it's a deal then?
Sarah looks down at his extended hand and shakes her head in disgust at the formalities. She grips his hand tightly, further enforcing her threats as she pulls him close, glaring at him with serious intent.
Sarah: Whatever.
She suddenly lets go of his hand and starts back off toward the parking lot. She collects her duffel bag once again along the way. Eric folds his arms now and leans against the wall, smiling as he watches her leave. He quietly comments to himself.
Eric Price: Things are going to change around here ... sooner than anyone thinks.
This scene fades out.
June 3rd 2012
-Just outside the offices of Seth Lerch
Eric Price paces back and forth nervously just outside of Seth Lerch's office. Inside, Sarah Twilight is currently in the process of buying out the rights to her own contract. Per agreement, this has been done with money given to her by Eric himself. Eric is wearing a white Polo shirt and black slacks as well as a comfortable pair of black dress shoes. He constantly stares down at his rolex, indicating that the meeting has been going on for some time. The pacing continues and Eric rubs his hands over his face a few times apprehensively. Finally, the door to the office opens and Eric quickly races down the hall and turns the corner in an effort not to be seen. A confident, mirthful Sarah emerges from the room. A callous smirk upon her face. She is wearing a snug purple tee, and a pair of blue denim jeans along with a pair of white Nike sneakers, complete with purple swoosh and trim. Her silver pentacle dangles from her neck as always. Ayria Adams exits just behind her, head down, tears forming in her eyes. Ayria turns to offer one final plea to her now former tag partner. However, Sarah had already left her in the dust and began down the hall. Once Ayria is out of sight, Eric peeks his head out from around the corner and motions Sarah toward him. The ravishing redhead swaggers her way toward him arrogantly. The two of them disappear down the corridor to remain out of sight.
Eric Price: How did it go?
Sarah: It's done.
Eric Price: And your Sausage Mcgriddle friend? How did she take it?
Sarah scowls at him.
Eric Price: What?
Sarah: Does it look like I give a shit about her?
Eric Price: I was simply curious, that's all.
Sarah rolls her eyes and places her hand upon her hips, shaking her head.
Sarah: She was fired, okay? Not like that wasn't a given. Fucking waste of space.
Eric laughs a bit. He looks around momentarily to ensure that no one was within earshot and comments to Sarah.
Eric Price: Do you ever smile at all? Because you realize you will need to learn how to be a bit more friendly if we're going to do this your way.
Sarah gives him a look of "what is that supposed to mean?" as her jaw drops a bit at the comment.
Sarah: I know what the hell I need to do. It was my idea. Don't you concern yourself with me. It's you who I'm worried will fuck this up.
Eric does a double take and looks at her in disbelief.
Eric Price: Me?! I'm not the one who can't even look at someone without wanting to strangle them ... or at the very least do them some form of bodily harm!
Sarah: And that's the problem. You want to make it around here? Stop giving a fuck about what the sheep want, and start caring about what it is that you want. You want to stop being a pathetic loser? Then fucking do it.
Eric Price: Yes, you've been very clear with that. Though I still don't understand why it is that you intend to pander to them during this process.
For the first time ever, Eric looks at Sarah's face to see true happiness as she prepares her response. The sick, sadistic smirk upon her face was about as close to a genuine smile as he had ever seen before. Her emerald eyes radiated with a demented jubilance that only someone as depraved as she was would find in answering such a question. And she was all too enthralled to offer her response. Eric looks almost frightened to listen to it.
Sarah: It will be satisfying, Eric. To watch the sheep place their trust, their hopes and their dreams into the palm of my hand so that I can crush them into dust along with their heroes. You haven't any idea what I desire Eric. I will become the World Champion ... but that is merely the icing on the cake. My euphoria will be looking into the eyes of the damned and watching them lose a piece of their souls. Their misery brings my joy. When children cling to their mother's bosom to be shielded from the horrifying realities of who I am ... the black heart that beats within my chest pumps another gallon of venom into my veins. The more that they suffer, the more I thrive. My appetite for destruction in insatiable, and there are not enough carcasses on this roster to support it. But the sheep ... oh the sheep will quell my hunger. Ensuring that they suffer every moment alongside their heroes is reward in of itself. You, Eric ... believe that power is amassed through wealth. I have always known it is amassed through fear!
Eric blinks a few times at the response, almost unsure of what to say. In fact, he doesn't think much about his response ... it just spills out.
Eric Price: You are without a doubt the most vile, twisted and diabolical woman I've ever laid eyes upon. Truthfully ... I kinda like it.
Sarah shakes her head at him with a look of disdain.
Sarah: You keep that little worm of yours in your pants. You do as I said, and stop giving a shit what the sheep want, and you'll be in a position to be useful. Now, I have a flight back to L.A.
Eric reaches into his pocket and removes a small business card. He hands it to Sarah.
Eric Price: Well, if you're going to be in Los Angeles learning how to be ... well less malicious than you are now, I would suggest you at least go and see this man.
Sarah takes hold of the business card and looks at it. It reads "David Monati - Attorney at Law." She squints her eyes a bit with a look of confusion upon her face as she holds the card in front of her.
Sarah: Why the fuck do you want me to go see an attorney?
Eric chuckles.
Eric Price: Believe me, if there is anyone who can look someone in the eye with a smile while the whole time being a back stabbing leech, it's an attorney.
Sarah smirks and nods, placing the card into her pocket. Once more, the two look around to make sure no one is within sight before parting ways. This scene now fades out.
September 30th 2012 - 8:46PM PST
-Less than an hour removed from WAR XI
The cool Southern California evening breeze blows softly on this September night. Sarah Twilight sits propped on her sofa as the cool air enters through the screen doors of her patio into her living room. Sarah is wearing a belly cut white tank top and a pair of purple shorts that ride high up her thighs. A plain pair of white ankle socks cover her feet and her astounding red hair is pinned up into a wide ponytail as her bangs hang over her face in a slightly messy fashion. It is apparent she is dressed down for the evening and sits comfortably in front of the television. A small saucer of carrots rests in her lap and she chews on one of the snacks, her remote in hand. She is watching the remainder of the WAR match on her TiVo set that she had recorded. The event had ended nearly and hour ago and she was finally catching up with it. She smirks and chuckles softly a few times as she watches on, when suddenly the phone rings. She tries to ignore it and continues watching the event. She lets her voice mail pick up the call, but only a few moments later, it rings again.
Sarah: UGH!
She grabs the phone from the table beside her and answers. She is finishing chewing the last bit of carrot she has just taken a bite of as she puts the receiver to her ear.
Sarah: Yeah?
Is all she manages to say as she finally finishes up the carrot. Her attention isn't exactly focused on the person on the other end of the phone. However, after some excited rambling, she sighs and pauses the pay per view event to listen.
Sarah: Wait, what? Slow down.
A very irate and frustrated Eric Price is losing it on the other end of the line.
(on phone) Eric Price: This can't stand! Did you see? Did you see?! I cannot stomach another moment of the Pantheon! I had him. That match was mine! Purse does not deserve to be the World Champion!
Sarah sighs again, very agitated now as she just shakes her head and turns the television off.
Sarah: Well thanks for ruining it for me, asshole.
(on phone) Eric Price: What? You mean you haven't seen it?!
Sarah: I was just at the point where Adam Young eliminated Corey Black. I haven't laughed that hard in forever. Anyway, what the fuck you mean Jeff Purse is champion? That isn't part of the plan, idiot. Jeff Purse is a fucking nobody. How does a fucking nobody become World Champion, Eric? HOW?!
(on phone) Eric Price: It's the Pantheon! Jonny Fly and his band of followers. It's not right. This is simply ridiculous. I have done everything we have discussed! I put him through misery and now ... UGH I can't stand to think of it. How? How does this happen? I know I can beat Purse. There's no question. We have to do something. We have to --
Sarah holds the phone away from her ear and cups her hand over the mouthpiece as she rolls her eyes shaking her head as she comments aloud to herself out of frustration.
Sarah: Do I have to fucking do everything myself? UGH!
She removes her hand from the mouthpiece and places the phone back to her ear only to find Eric still rambling on like a madman.
(on phone) Eric Price: I want him gone! I don't care what we have to do. I am sick of playing second fiddle to the Pantheon. That's what it is, the numbers. Meanwhile I'm here and you are living it up on the beach! You've been gone four months now. How long does it take you to learn to just pretend to be nice? We had a deal. I paid for this vacation of yours and you said you would reciprocate. Well you need to be here NOW damnit! We need to set this in motion.
Sarah places the saucer on the coffee table as she stands up. She begins talking over Eric, a bit angrily.
Sarah: You're losing your shit Eric. You need to calm the fuck down or you're going to ruin the whole thing.
(on phone) Eric Price: Calm down? Calm down?! You aren't listening to me! You need to be here now instead of sitting on your ass! We had a deal! We had a deal!
Again Sarah raises her voice and starts talking over Eric through gritted teeth.
Sarah: And I told you that if you fuck this up, I am going to rip you apart! I told you that I would be back when I am good and ready. Until then you just have to deal with it.
Eric responds with some courage here, most likely because this IS an over the phone conversation and...he is in Pennsylvania right now, Sarah is across the damn country.
(on phone) Eric Price: No! No I will not just deal with it. I have kept every part of the bargain and now it's up to you. You want to be a big shot again? Then do it! Stop barking orders from your couch!
Sarah: I should fly to Reading right fucking now and rip your spine out you little shit!
(on phone) Eric Price: You do that. And while you're at it, why don't you kiss my ass!
Sarah: Ooohhoooho, you're dead mother fucker.
(on phone) Eric Price: Sure, just throw away that four months of 'supposedly' working on your attitude. Oh is that it?
Sarah scowls some more and has to try very hard to bite her tongue here because in this instance, he was actually right. If she blew up, it could send the entire thing into a tailspin. After taking a few moments to cool her jets, Eric senses the opening.
(on phone) Eric Price: Now then. We'll be traveling to Los Angeles on the twenty first. Do you think you can perhaps ... oh I don't know, show up?
Sarah: What? No! That's too soon.
(on phone) Eric Price: It's your hometown. Where better to elicit the adoration of the fans?
Sarah is still shaking her head at the proposition. In reality, even with the idea she had come up with, the idea of ever being nice to the sheep was not something she looked forward to. After four months however, it seems as though she is just prolonging it out of her own discomfort with the thought of being ... their hero. However, as Eric continues to give off all the valid reasons as to why she should pull the trigger on this operation on the twenty first of October, Sarah makes her way into her kitchen. She opens one of the drawers where she'd store bills and other various papers and documents. She rifles through the paperwork and pulls out a small slip of paper. She looks down at it with an evil grin. There written in blue ink, the name "Franky" is scrawled across the yellow scrap along with a phone number. Sarah's emerald eyes light up mischievously as she responds now to Eric's request.
Sarah: Actually ... I think I can make that work.
She looks down at the scrap of paper once more as her grin grows wider.
Sarah: Yes, I think it's about time that this wolf entered the flock.
She cackles as the thoughts of what was yet to come circled through her mind. She hangs up the phone to a most likely elated Eric Price. This scene fades.
January 7th 2013 - 2:46am
- Several hours after One had gone off air.
- Eric Price's Private Hotel Party
Champagne is flowing and celebration is still in full swing even into the late hours as the newly crowned World Champion, Eric Price is living it up. Future on screen associates, Gravedigger and Davey Ortega as well as various members of MS-13 are enjoying the good life. There are random women in many of their arms and the mood is completely joyous. Eric's shoulders are covered in what appears to be confetti and streamers sound off every so often. This resembles a New Year's Eve celebration, but instead, it is the celebratory excitement of Jeff Purse's championship reign coming to an end and Eric Price's beginning. As the party continues on, the door to the large hotel banquet hall is pushed open and Sarah Twilight enters the room. She is still bandaged up from the hellacious battle she'd had with Famine of the Vile the night before. She is received with a round of applause by the occupants of the room.
Eric Price: There she is! I am so glad you could make the festivities.
Sarah casually walks toward one of the tables and has a seat, off commenting to Eric's welcome. Though Eric never hears it.
Sarah: Whatever.
Eric dances his way over to her table and takes a seat beside her.
Eric Price: Oh the looks on their faces was ... dare I say it? Priceless! Every last one of them believed you were going to see to it that Purse retained. Oh I tell you Sarah, this concept of watching their dreams dashed is quite invigorating. I haven't enjoyed myself quite this much in some time.
Sarah looks over at Eric and flashes him a very sarcastic smile, with an equally sarcastic remark.
Sarah: Well, I'm glad you're enjoying yourself so fucking much.
Eric looks a bit confused and the smile disappears from his face as he leans in, wondering what was going on.
Eric Price: What's wrong? Everything is going exactly how we discussed.
Sarah glares back at Eric, clearly she wasn't in a good mood.
Sarah: That's great Eric. Just fucking great. You know what isn't great? The smiling, and the autographs, and the little brats who want a picture. The sheep and their fucking stupid questions. This entire thing is getting tiresome to me and I am more than quite ready to squeeze the life out of every last ounce of hope that they have. Because if I have to listen to one more pathetic, smelly little pimple faced shit ask me if I am single again ... I am going to fucking murder someone!
As she raised her voice, this causes several people in the party to look in their direction. Sarah remains exteremly frustrated and angry. Eric holds up a hand to the other guests that he would resolve the situation.
Eric Price: Sarah, you know if you that now, it will undo everything. Look at how far we've come with this. We can't turn back now.
Sarah slams her fists down onto the table, startling everyone, including Eric.
Sarah: No! I've fucking HAD IT! I can't stand them. I can't stand their stupidity, I can't stand the fact that as it stands ... I am seen to be associated with those .... those fucking mindless drones. They line up in droves and chant my name in some attempt to give a purpose to their meaningless lives. It's disgusting! I am NOT their damn hero. I am exactly the opposite, and I want nothing more than to reach into the ribcage of their existence and rip their heart from it!
Eric waves his hands in front of Sarah a few times, as he can't believe she is already to a breaking point with putting up with the crowd.
Eric Price: For God's sakes get a hold of yourself! Of course they are uneducated sheep. This is exactly what you wanted. To lure them in to that false sense of comfort. They adore you. They will comply with everything you say and do on a whim. Right now Sarah, you are the puppet master pulling the strings.
Eric sighs.
Eric Price: Listen, just a short while longer and you will have everything that you want. Let's not spoil a good thing, huh? If it is of any consolation, they were wounded last night as you counted Purse's shoulders for three. It was ... if you will, a prelude of things to come.
Sarah continues to glare at Eric as he speaks. She was somewhat satisfied with the dagger having been driven into their spirit as Purse's championship reign had ended. However, this was hardly enough. She very reluctantly decides to continue the charade of being 'nice.' However, this does not go without warning ... and a cost.
Sarah: You owe me, Eric. You fucking owe me.
She points her index finger in his face, wagging it at him.
Sarah: I took care of your damn shit with Purse. Now we focus on Fly.
Eric grins.
Eric Price: Oh don't worry. Jonny Fly will be far too preoccupied with his champion walking out to notice that his most beloved shining star is secretly plotting his demise ... as well as the downfall of the Pantheon.
Sarah's scowl finally transforms itself into a twisted grin of her own. She nods.
Sarah: Good, because I want this to be as slow ... and as painful as possible.
The two of them laugh damn near maniacally for a moment before returning to the party in progress. This scene fades.
January 14th 2013
-Slam has been live on air for 15 minutes.
Eric Price is backstage in his locker room pacing back and forth nervously. He is on his cell phone and is almost ripping his own hair out. The WCF World Championship closely guarded as he clutches it in his free hand.
Eric Price: Come on pick up, pick up!
Quietly behind him as he speaks, Sarah Twilight slips into the room unnoticed by anyone outside. She is dressed in a black shoulder sleeved button up top and a pair of dark blue denim jeans as well as a pair of leather boots. Her silver pentacle dangles from her necklace as usual. She quietly closes the door behind her, making certain that no one saw her. Eric turns around as he continues to pace back and forth and nearly jumps out of his skin.
Eric Price: GAH!!
Sarah holds a finger to her lips and motions for Eric to shush himself. Eric quickly hangs up the phone and places it into his pocket. He approaches Sarah, speaking in a whispered tone.
Eric Price: What are you doing in here? Do you know what will happen if people see us together?
Sarah smirks, shaking her head.
Sarah: Like I give a shit.
Eric is thrown into more worry by her flippant remark. He is obviously already pretty stressed.
Sarah: What the hell is your problem now?
Eric Price: Did you not see what he did? Fly! He's forcing me to have a rematch with Purse next week.
Sarah chuckles a bit.
Sarah: You are such a pussy.
Eric growls a bit at the remark. But in reality, he did not want another match against Purse after his reign had just begun.
Eric Price: Those comments aside, I was trying to contact someone to handle this situation for me.
Sarah rolls her eyes at him.
Sarah: What are you going to do, Eric? Get a doctor's note?
She shakes her head and folds her arms.
Eric Price: You know, that's not a bad idea.
Sarah hauls her hand back and slaps Eric across the face ... HARD. Eric is taken by surprise and cringes at the stinging slap, rubbing his reddened cheek.
Eric Price: What the hell was that for?!
Sarah: For you being a fucking idiot. You want to take care of shit? Get rid of him. Plain and simple. Stop being a damn bitch about it.
Eric ponders this for a moment. A light bulb suddenly goes off and he reaches into his pocket, removing a set of keys.
Eric Price: Brilliant! I'll simply have a few of the guy lock Purse into the trunk of my rental car until the show is over. When he fails to show to sign for his rematch, Fly will have no choice but to award my victory via forfeit. This is great!
Sarah snatches the keys from Eric's hand and shakes her head at him in disgust once more. Her facial expression was hardly showing any excitement for the idea.
Sarah: I'll handle it ... as usual.
She places the keys in her pocket and turns to exit the room. Eric calls out in an almost pleading fashion.
Eric Price: Wait ... wait! What are you going to do?
Sarah never looks back at Eric, but that ever so sinister grin forms upon her face as she pauses in front of the door. Her icy eyes filled with mischievous intent and the depth of her pure black irises peered a glimpse into the window of the soulless, remorseless evil that festered within.
Sarah: I'm going to have some fun ... for once.
She exits the room quickly without being noticed. The frightening joy with which she hurried off to carry out the deed was somewhat disturbing ... even to Eric. He sighs, wondering what she could possibly have meant.
Eric Price: Oh dear ...
A little while later ...
Sarah enters the parking garage area of the arena, setting out for Eric's rental car. She spots a few vehicles alone in the maintenance area. The cunning redhead looks around to make certain the coast was clear and she quickly works to remove the license plates from one of them. Once she is able to get the fixtures from the vehicle, she quickly moves on. Entering the main area of the garage where the talent would park, she was clear of ever being noticed from the maintenance area. After moving along a few rows of cars, she spots the black BMW that Eric had rented. Sarah gets down low to avoid any detection as she affixes the stolen license plates to the vehicle, covering over the existing plates. Once the task is complete, the sinister woman enters the car on the driver's side and waits ... patiently.
It isn't long before Jeff Purse finds his own way into the parking area, searching for his Lincoln Navigator. He scratches his head as he peers out over the various vehicles and it is apparent he just can't seem to remember where he parked. Finally he passes along the row where Sarah sat in wait. She places the key into the ignition and starts the car. The headlights immediately turn on automatically to compensate for the dimly lit garage. Jeff is blinded by the lights and turns away, still trying to figure out where his Navigator was parked. Sarah grins with an evil amusement to the situation at hand. She revs the engine a few times and Jeff quickens his pace in continuing the search for his vehicle. Sarah throws the BMW into gear.
Sarah: It's too bad, Jeff. Eric was simply going to lock you in the trunk for a few hours because he is afraid of you. Me? I just don't fucking like you!
She comments to herself as she slams her foot down on the gas and the car peels out from it's parked position. Jeff starts moving, pressing his keychain rapidly. Hoping desperately to hear the beep of his alarm. The BMW races at him, Sarah completely floors the gas pedal in the short distance she has to travel to catch Purse. Jeff turns around at the last moment as the BMW SLAMS into him, sending him rolling over the hood, up and over the entire length of the car and there is a sickening CRACK as Jeff's body hits the concrete behind her. The wheels on the BMW come to screeching halt as Jeff lies on his back, motionless. Sarah rolls the window down and peaks out, looking back at Jeff. His is far too hurt to ever look in her direction and notice who had struck him. However his groans of pain indicate that he is still alive.
Sarah: I suppose this is going to be slow and painful for you after all.
She cackles as she throws the car into reverse. She was intent on finishing the job. Jeff lays there helpless, unable to move as Sarah begins backing the car toward him. However, it isn't long before various footsteps are heard rushing the corridor leading into the parking lot and voices are heard.
"We need medics NOW! Purse has been hit! I repeat, he's been hit!"
Sarah glances toward the origin of the sounds and then back at Purse. She contemplates going through with finishing the job anyhow. But the staff draw closer very quickly.
Sarah: Fuck.
She instead rolls the tinted window back up and places the car into drive, peeling out JUST as help arrives on scene. No one manages to catch a glimpse of the driver.
A few hours later....
Sarah is seated comfortably back her hotel. The entire WCF was in an uproar over what had happened to Jeff Purse. The Mistress of Mischief remains without a care in the world as she remains stretched out on the sofa in her hotel room, one knee poised up and her hand rested against it. She coats her fingernails with clear nail polish as if nothing at all had happened. She has changed for the evening and is simply in a white tee shirt and baby blue sweat pants. Her bare feet enjoying the cool air of the temperature controlled hotel suite. She dips the small brush and laps up some of the transparent lacquer, carefully brushing it against each of her fingernails. A sudden knock at the door does not disturb her concentration of applying the coat. After a few moments, Eric Price decides to let himself into the room anyhow and he is damn near losing his mind. He storms straight into into the room.
Eric Price: I--
Sarah very casually and calmly interrupts him before he has the chance to speak.
Sarah: Did anyone see you come in?
Eric is a bit dumbfounded by her very nonchalant attitude toward the entire situation.
Eric Price: What? No. I--
Sarah: And no one followed you here?
Again she interrupts him. However she has not at all to this point ever bothered to look up at him. Instead, she continues away at her work. Turning her hand to the side to apply the lacquer to her thumb nail. She strokes the brush the entire length of the nails and repeats as Eric just stands there with his jaw agape, looking astonished at this behavior.
Eric Price: No. Of course not.
He places his hands to his forehead in almost pure mental agony.
Eric Price: You ran him down? You ran him down?! Do you know what is going to happen? Fly is going to make my life miserable for this! Everyone is going to assume it was me. That was MY car!
Sarah just idly continues painting her nails. Eventually she offers up a small smirk, but still never bothers to look up at Eric.
Sarah: No one is going to do anything. And you know, you should thank me. Now you don't have to worry about competing with him next week.
Eric is nearly beside himself with her very flat answers.
Eric Price: Thank you? I--
Sarah: You're welcome.
Again, Sarah cuts him off, sarcastically accepting his thanks, despite that not being the case.
Eric Price: What am I going to do about this? Everyone is going to assume it was me. Jonny Fly is going to have my head for this! You've just ... dear God, I think you've ruined my career!
Sarah finally finishes painting the clear coat onto her fingernails and she places the bottle down on the floor beside the couch. She stands, waving her hands about a few times in an effort to dry the polish. She once more laughs at Eric.
Sarah: Is he dead?
Eric's eyes almost pop out of his head at that question.
Eric Price: WHAT?!
Sarah's demeanor does not change as she very matter-of-factly states the question again.
Sarah: Jeff Purse, is the fucker dead, or not?
Eric almost can't believe he is having this conversation right now, he answers agitatedly.
Eric Price: No, he isn't dead. He's severly injured. Possibly for quite some time. This doesn't help you know. I need to know what the hell you expect me to do about Fly and the Pantheon? This is all going to come down on me. You and I both know it is.
Sarah smirks again, and this isn't helping to settle Eric's nerves at all.
Sarah: So he's in the hospital I take it?
Eric is losing his grip at this point.
Eric Price: Yes, he's in the hospital. Why do you keep asking these things? I need help!
Sarah finally turns to Eric and pats him on the shoulder with a very callous, and even frightening smile.
Sarah: Don't worry. No one is going to do anything. Trust me.
Eric shakes his head in utter disbelief.
Eric Price: You can't be serious here. Come on, you nearly killed the man! The Pantheon is in control and he is one of them. How can you say such nonsense?
A soft chuckle escape Sarah's lips as Eric continues to grow more and more paranoid.
Sarah: Jonny Fly.
Eric looks on, confused as all hell. He eyes her expecting something more.
Sarah: His ego will not allow him to push this for very long. That much I promise you. His need to be the center of Pantheon will drive it to its very demise.
Eric listens on, but still has no idea what the hell she was getting at.
Sarah: Fly has ALWAYS sought after my affection. It's in his nature. He envisions himself as some sort of Casanova. How do you think he'll respond when his crippled friend receives the attention and affection he so desperately craves?
Eric Price: He's going to fire me and strip me of the World Championship. That's what he is going to do!
Sarah shakes her head with a smile.
Sarah: He is going to be far too concerned with Jeff's new best friend than to even THINK about who it was that struck him down with a car.
Eric Price: You don't mean ...
Sarah heads past Eric to the chest above the dresser in the suite. She opens the cabinet doors to remove a beautiful bouquet arrangement complete with a small card attached. A balloon sets in the center of the piece and reads "Get Well Soon."
Eric Price: But how ... I mean you struck him with a car. How --
Eric is so flabbergasted by the entire thing that he can't even complete his sentence. Sarah sets the bouquet down on the table and pushes her newly polished finger into his chest as she shakes her head at him.
Sarah: YOU ran him down with a car. Or so everyone will assume, just as you said. However, they need to prove that. And, they can't. Meanwhile, I will have Jeff so wrapped around my finger he won't know whether he is coming or going.
Eric Price: No evidence? That was my rental car. Of course they have evidence!
Sarah reaches down beside the sofa and emerges with two license plates. She slaps them into Eric chest.
Sarah: No it wasn't. No one is going to find out a damn thing, and even if they do. It'll be too late to do anything about it.
She smirks. Eric starts coughing up a laugh as his face forms a smile.
Eric Price: Ha - Ha - you -- oh you devil you!
Eric stares down at the license plates and his nerves begin to calm. As they do, the entire conversation starts to sink in.
Eric Price: So let me get this straight. You just nearly ended a man's life, and now you're going to become his friend as if everything was perfect? You are going to lead him on in order to elicit jealously from his good pal, Jonny Fly? Oh that is sick ... that is demented ... that is ... I like it!
Sarah grins as she plucks one of the flower pedals from the bouquet, releasing it from her fingertips and watching it fall to the carpet below.
Sarah: I'm simply going to finish the job that I began. Honestly, there is much more satisfaction for me this way. Not only have I broken his body ... I will break his heart, mind and spirit as well. Ultimately, he will have nothing left. He will have placed himself in the palm of my hand ... and like the sheep, in the end he'll have his hopes and dreams destroyed at my hands. They are all at my mercy ... and mercy does not exist with me. Jeff Purse is just another pathetic human being just like the rest. He's just unfortunate enough to have found himself in my crosshairs. When I'm through with him ... he'll wish he had died on that pavement tonight.
Sarah takes he foot and steps on the flower pedal beneath her and stamps it out completely. She flashes a frightening smile of innocence as she looks down the bouquet arrangement she's purchased. The card is hand written with care. The workings of a true sociopath in the sincerest form of words.
"I am incredibly sorry to hear about your misfortune. My thoughts are with you for a speedy recovery. Please know that I promise to enact the harshest of punishment with those responsible for this. I can't wait to see you back here Jeff, you are a wonderful person who did not deserve this at all ..."
Love,
To be continued...
