Post by Jessica Reed on Oct 13, 2013 19:40:37 GMT
A candle flickers gently in the gloom, betraying the scene before it as two men struggle to break free of the ropes which bind them firmly to two wooden chairs in the centre of a basement. To and fro they fight, but to no avail, they are trapped inside a web at the mercy of their captor who lurks in the dark, walking back and forth with a large pipe clutched in his hand. Suddenly, and without warning the figure lunges forward and brings the pipe crashing down across the bridge of one of the men’s feet causing him to scream in agony before lurching upwards to reveal the face of Roberto Verona.
Man 1: Arghhhhhh!!!
Verona takes a few steps back.
Roberto Verona: I won’t ask again, where is she?
Man 2: Forget it, we’d rather die than…
Verona turns to face the other man and in one fluid motion he raises his hand, aims a handgun at his face and pulls the trigger, causing his friend to scream.
Man 1: What the fuck man!?
Roberto Verona: You’re friend valued his honour over his life. I’m not here to pander to men who won’t be accommodating.
Man 1: You’re a monster!
Roberto Verona: I don’t think I’ll take advice on my moral code from a man who was going to hurt a defenceless woman just because his boss told him to.
Man 1: Hey, fuck you!
Roberto smiles before lifting up his arm again and bringing the metal pipe crashing down on his other foot, making him scream in agony.
Roberto Verona: I won’t abide that sort of language.
Man 1: Look man, what do you want?
Verona leans forward, tossing his gun to the side before grabbing the man by his jaw violently before pulling himself closer.
Roberto Verona: I want to know what you did to the girl you were looking for.
Man 1: We took her back to the camp…
Roberto Verona: I gathered that, I’m not an idiot. Where is this camp?
Man 1: It’s a few miles north but…
Verona looks at the man as he grows hesitant, raising his eyebrow quizzically.
Roberto Verona: Do you really think you’re in a position to play games here?
Man 1: No man, look, I ain’t trying to mess with ya it’s just… how do I know if I tell you the truth you won’t just ice me like my partner?
Roberto Verona: You don’t.
Man 1: Then why should I tell you a damn thing?
Roberto smiles.
Roberto Verona: Because I can make sure you don’t die for a very, very, long time, long enough for me to have some fun with you…
Man 1: You’re sick.
Roberto Verona: I am a product of a world which seems to think it’s justifiable to kidnap helpless young women for whatever sick little games your boss wants to play.
Man 1: We were just following orders.
Roberto Verona: And I am just doing what it takes to make you talk. Yet I am the monster and you’re the helpless innocent little pawn in a convicts twisted little games? Forgive me if my heart doesn’t bleed for you.
Verona’s eyes begin to narrow, his patience wearing a little thing as the man’s breathing becomes shorter and faster, his body shaking as fear washes through his veins.
Man 1: Look, I’ll tell you where she is… I just want you to promise to not put a bullet between my eyes, please, I am begging you!
Roberto Verona: I’m not promising you a damn thing! Now where is she!
Man 1: Please…
Roberto lunges forward, spit flying from his lips as he shout furiously in the man’s face.
Roberto Verona: WHERE IS SHE!?
Man 1: The abandoned mining village! I swear man, if he aint moved her that’s where she will be…
Verona stares at him as he cowers, trembling in his bonds as Roberto breathes heavily and intensely before pulling himself away, much to the man’s relief. Verona turns and walks towards the table where a variety of weapons and supplies are scattered, hurriedly pushing them into a rucksack as tears of relief flow down the man’s face. Looking up through the emotional glaze he stares at Roberto.
Man 1: Why are you doing this?
Roberto suddenly stops packing, slamming his hands down on the table as he closes his eyes, letting out a deep sigh. He winces as his injury shoots pain through his back before he turns his head slightly.
Roberto Verona: I made a promise to look after that girl, no matter what hell this world could throw at us. I failed her, I abandoned her because of my own fears and now I have her back… I can’t fail her again. We only have each other… I owe it to her to put my life on the line to protect her, to make sure she can be everything she deserves to be… I will save her or damn well die trying.
Roberto turns back to the rucksack, grabbing it and tossing it over his shoulder before reaching for a rifle leaning against the wall. With no time to spare he marches past the man and towards the stairs.
Man 1: Hey! I told you everything, are you just going to leave me here?
Roberto Verona: You begged me for mercy… be grateful for the little I have shown you.
The man begins to struggle frantically as Roberto marches up the stairs.
Roberto Verona: I’m coming for you, Jess…
I can never put my finger on you Amber. You twist and turn like a twisty... turny… thingy. Each week I can never quite find myself being able to predict which mask you’re going to wear, last week it was the “Jess like totally sucks and is so only the champion cos the mailman was late” and now its “Oh, yeah, I was so lying about all that, it’s just a big façade, you’re so awesome.”
Don’t get me wrong, I like compliments as much as the next girl but… they just didn’t seem too genuine, Amber. Although if they were, let me totally apologise in advance!
Now it’s far from me to ever really be all that insulting of you ladies, whatever I think I still respect you all as competitors but to be perfectly honest, it’s hard to trust a word you say anymore. Each week it’s something else and there’s always some sort of explanation to make the previous week seem perfectly reasonable and all the while I get the distinct impression you’re just spinning your web, waiting for the little fly to venture in.
Perhaps that is an effective strategy, to manipulate the response you want from your opponent each week, but I am really not keen on spiders.
I mean, except Black Widow she’s pretty neat. And Spiderman. Oh, and Shelob is pretty cool too.
Ok maybe I don’t dislike all spiders, but my point stands, everything about you this week feels so… fake. Yet, you do what you do so well that even just saying that makes me feel guilty, I mean you were so humble, you dropped the bravado and you seemed to openly accept who I am as a competitor and that is precisely what scares me. Nobody around here ever respects me just for my wrestling! I just feel like the helpless gazelle happily nibbling away at the grass in your hand all the while being blind to the fact that you’re really a panther gazing at my throat.
Wait, so she’s a panther now?
Shut up, you’re ruining my predator metaphor!
I don’t think I am the one ruining it…
Just be quiet! Where was I? Oh, yes, gazelle, panther, lots of blood, luring into a trap. Got it.
Look, Amber, I get it, after all the stick you received last week for being so far up your bum that you were pretty much wearing yourself for a costume you’ve turned about face and tried to come across as really humble to counteract your critics. It’s a neat trick, it means we can never really pin you down and figure out who the real Amber Richards is, and I guess that makes you dangerous in the ring too.
All unpredictable and stuff. Like a Ditto.
You draw us in and put us right where you want us and then BOOM! You stomp us into the ground and skip off back to Cable and prepare the next trap for whichever unfortunate woman you’re booked to fight. This week honestly feels no different to me, you’ve tried to trick me into genuinely believing you respect me and even perhaps feeling a little sorry for you with this big picture of doubt you’ve painted around yourself…
Yet we both know that deep down you still see me as the silly little blonde girl who is just a stepping stone for you to use as another feather in that sizeable cap of yours. And you know what, Amber? That’s actually OK. I’d rather you were honest to me about your intentions that smothering them beyond recognition to try and get me into your honey trap…
Oh God, do you know what a honey trap is?
A really sticky trap?
No… just… continue…
Ok, weirdo. Where was I? Ah, yes. Amber, I just wish you could be up front and honest about those intentions of yours. You cannot hide weeks of degrading me under a sugar coated promo designed to lull everyone into a false sense of security, we all know what you really think of me and I doubt being pinned by Ana Valentine really gave you an epiphany. I mean, it’d be great if it did but quite honestly you’re transformation smacks more of Jekyll and Hyde than someone who “found God”.
Which, FYI, makes me wonder, how exactly do you find God? Is he in the Yellow Pages of something?
Let me make something super clear to you, Amber, and perhaps this is why this kinda false “wrestling sisterhood” has really got to me. The thing I rank above anything else, even belts, is just being yourself, to just turn up, say what you really think and never try to sell yourself as something you’re not to get ahead. Whenever I see a girl pretending to be something she isn’t, it just really grinds my gears. For all of the mean things she did to me, at least you know what you're getting with Eternity.
I don’t want Amber Richards the watered down appeaser, I want the Amber Richards who says what she really thinks and feels. Even if she's not a wonderful person, we can't all be saints. This wishy washy Amber Richards isn't a personna that suits you.
All I can see is a woman trying to lull me into a false sense of security by masking who she really is so she can snap me like a breadstick in a desperate attempt to have something new to boast about before dunking me in some humus and devouring me. Even under all of the attempts to come across as humble you still managed to belittle Ashley Mastrangelo, yet you want us to believe you're genuinely happy for her?
Is this the twilight zone? Did Ana really hit me that hard that I've entered an alternate dimension?
Is this the twilight zone? Did Ana really hit me that hard that I've entered an alternate dimension?
Perhaps that’s a little mean, but my point under all this is, do you even know who you are any more, Amber? Under all that bravado and fake humility, have you lost track of what makes you, well, you? Are you the angsty Amber who’s better than everyone else? Are you the humble Amber who suddenly thinks everybody is super awesome? Are you the angry Amber whose out to get anything that moves?
Perhaps you're just the Amber who is starting to run out of excuses now she isn't dominating everybody each week and is forced to face her own humanity.
I’m not sure you even know.
And that’s what makes you and me different. I know exactly who I am and I will never apologise for it or try to make myself out to be something I’m not. I am just a girl chasing her dream and doing what she loves, it’s exactly why I never bang on about being invincible, because you’re right, I am not, I am just here to do my best and put on a show. Perhaps you're all sick and tired of hearing it, maybe it's something I have said before but this week it feels more appropriate than it ever has. I am what I am, and what I am seems to be reasonably successful, for some reason.
Everything I do is genuine, I don't need to try and find the correct voice every week to suit whoever I am wrestling; can you really say the same?
Until you can, that is what truly separates you and me. It isn’t belts, or win counts or even just raw wrestling ability, cos to be honest you’re a dynamo in the ring, Amber. If you wanted to compare us just on what we can do in the ring it'd be so damn close we'd practically be twins. No, what separates us is that what you see with me is what you get, perhaps that makes me easier to exploit, but then perhaps I don’t need to hide who I am to evade it?
Maybe it’s time to find yourself instead of a way to fool us all?
We re-join our scene in a dark room, only the swaying creak of metal chains breaks the endless sound of a ferocious winter wind as large cuts of meat swing back and forth on a set of rusted hooks. Yet, amongst the carcasses hangs the body of a limp, almost lifeless Jessica Reed with blood frozen in a trickle from the base of her hairline where a large bruise has begun to form. Moments pass before her eyelids begin to flicker and a soft groan is emitted from her lips as she starts to come around, her eyes finding it difficult to accommodate the light.
Jessica Reed: Wh-where am I?
Jess winces a little as she feels the tremendous pain in her shoulders from being hung in such an awkward position, contrary to her physiological nature. Looking around she notices that her rucksack has been left laying against a wall, along with her rifle, although it appears to be scattered alongside numerous belongings which she doesn’t recognise.
Jessica Reed: Did he…
Jessica mulls something over in her mind for a few seconds before something dawns on her.
Jessica Reed: Shoot… Cyrus must have brought me here… I can’t let him get his hands on me.
Suddenly Jessica pauses and screws up her face.
Jessica Reed: Eww! What is he already has!?
Jess shakes her head.
Jessica Reed: No, come on, focus, Jess! You can have a shower and wash away the shame later…
Looking upwards she notices that the screws securing her to the ceiling are a little loose. Thinking quickly Jess begins to sway herself, using her momentum to gradually move back and forth, putting pressure on the weak fittings in an attempt to dislodge them.
Jessica Reed: Come on, we can do this…
Gradually as she begins to sway more and more the fitting begins to creak much to Jessica’s delight, her face lighting up as she can feel the chains which have bound her arms loosen slightly. However, he joy is shortlived as the noise of oncoming voices immediately grabs her attention.
Jessica Reed: Oh no…
Acting as quickly as she can she begins to do her best to slow her swaying down as the voices grow louder before suddenly, as the door flings open she gratefully feels herself sway back to a gentle stop as she closes her eyes shut tightly.
Cyrus Daniels: You’re sure they’re not back yet?
Man: I’m sure boss, they’ve failed to report back, we must assume they’re in trouble.
Cyrus Daniels: Well, that’s their problem now, aint it? We can’t waste anymore lives trying to save theirs; the woods were crawling with infected.
Man: But…
Cyrus turns and stares blankly at his colleague who quickly backs down.
Man: Yes sir…
Cyrus smirks before letting out a little laugh.
Cyrus Daniels: Cheer up mate, their loss is your gain. You can help me have a little fun with our guest here.
Suddenly the man’s face lights up and he grins ear to ear as Jessica fights to prevent herself from letting out a squeal of fear.
Man: Well, if you insist boss…
Cyrus Daniels: I’m a generous man, I like to share. Besides, somebody has to hold her down…
The two men laugh as Jess feels herself begin to tremble, even more so as the pair slowly move towards her. Suddenly she can feel a pair of hands on her as she is lifted up into the air and her chains are unhooked from the fitting. Fighting the urge to kick out and try to flee she remains limp, doing her best to appear unconscious. Suddenly, after being carried a few short feet she finds herself being flung down onto a metallic table which makes he cry out in pain, immediately blowing her cover.
Man: Look’s like this little one’s awake… I always like it when they squirm…
Before Jess can really move much of her own accord she feels the grip of a man pinning her wrests to the table, forcing her to panic and let out a scream.
Cyrus Daniels: Oh, you can scream all you like Jessica, nobody is going to hear you… well, nobody who is going to care.
Cyrus laughs as he walks up the side of the table towards her, running a hand gently up her body as she desperately fights to escape his cohorts grip, but to no avail. As he reaches her head he gently brushes her head aside, leaning down slowly before whispering in her ear.
Cyrus Daniels: I hope you enjoyed making me look a fool…
Cyrus suddenly inhales a deep breath through his nostrils, appearing to “smell” Jess as he chuckles under his breath but before he can pull himself away, Jess lunges forward and sinks her teeth into neck. Cyrus’ body jolts in surprise, but rather than scream he simply pulls away, clutching his neck as he laughs.
Cyrus Daniels: Lookie there mate, seems like I just got myself a love bite!
The two men laugh as Jess feels herself getting angry, her body shaking with a mixture of fear and rage.
Jessica Reed: More fool you!
Cyrus Daniels: Whatever do you mean?
Jessica Reed: I… I’m infected!
Cyrus bellows indignantly, almost in disbelief.
Cyrus Daniels: Sure you are pet, and I’m the Prime Minister.
Jessica Reed: It’s true! Check my arm…
Cyrus Daniels: You’re lying.
Jessica Reed: Are you prepared to risk that?
Cyrus prepares to reply, but suddenly stops himself, instead nodding to his colleague who lets go of her wrists.
Cyrus Daniels: Check her…
The man rolls up Jess’ sleeve and against his better judgement immediately lets her go, stepping back in horror as the deep teeth marks embedded in her arm, and the early signs of infection, are visible to everyone in the room. Speechless, Cyrus suddenly begins to show signs of weakness which we’ve never seen before as Jess pants heavily.
Cyrus Daniels: No… no…. that can’t be… it’s…no!
Suddenly, as Cyrus’ attention is momentarily drawn away Jess scrambles off the metal table and makes and immediate bolt for the door, pushing his companion forward and flying right into him before she grabs the door, yanks it open and runs as fast as she can from the room. As she frantically looks for an exit she hears a loud rage filled roar bellowing after her before Cyrus Daniels crashes out of the room himself.
Cyrus Daniels: I am going to tear you limb from limb you little bitch!
Well howdy there pardner.