Post by Eden Morgan on Sept 3, 2013 14:39:54 GMT -5
Wham!
Eden slams to the floor for what seems the hundredth time as Jet shoves the punching bag into her again. She doesn’t even bother getting up this time, lying flat on her back and staring at the ceiling of the gym. It didn’t hurt anymore, but then nothing really did. She felt completely numb and her brain was fuzzy, as if she were watching everything from a distance and not from her own eyes. On the side, Jet throws his hands up, pacing back and forth, completely at a loss.
“What was that?! You’re not paying attention, Eden, and right now you really need to. In a week it won’t be a punching bag hitting you, that’ll be Zane Scott or Cypress, Vain, Travis Roberts, Chaos, or any and everyone on those teams! Get up! Focus!”
She cocks her head to the side, still unmoving, as he continues to rant and rave, distantly thinking that he seems more agitated than usual.
Ichabod. That announcement really threw him for a loop, and it doesn’t help that Jezebel’s on Vain’s team. On top of everything else that’s been going on… and he’s still taking the time out to train me.
When is a good time to tell him I’m done?
When is a good time to tell him I don’t want it anymore?
She rolls to her stomach, getting her feet under her and pushing herself up to a standing position as she nibbles at her lower lip, her last thought completely consuming her.
Eden takes a few steps forward… and walks right into the bag shoved hard at her approaching figure. She grunts as it knocks the air from her lungs and sends a twinge through her still-sensitive ribs. Hugs from Zane were not nice at all. She has enough awareness to curl her body around itself as she lands, rolling across the floor. She groans. She had been wrong. That one had hurt.
And Jet was going off again. He hadn’t even let her get over to her bag this time. She hadn’t been close to prepared.
Who am I kidding? I’m getting worse.
She closes her eyes and exhales forcefully, wishing she were anywhere but here right now. Her body ached. And her mind was numb. It wasn’t a good combination, especially going into one of the more dangerous PPV’s she’d ever been involved in.
I blame Chaos. Who knew he was that good of an actor? Jet, apparently. Deep down, I knew better, but I had convinced myself the head injury was real, the amnesia was real, that underneath it all, he really was a good and decent guy. Partly because he did such an impressive job as Chadwick, and partly because I wanted to. I wanted Chadwick to be real, for Chaos to have become that. It meant I didn’t have Chaos breathing down my neck anymore. It meant that there was a bridge between my old life and my new one.
And it hurt Cypress.
I think I enjoyed that most of all.
Jet’s face comes into view as he stands over her, looking down, his brow furrowed as he tries to figure out if she’s had enough.
“Hey… you okay?” He holds out a hand to help her to her feet and Eden bursts out laughing. She laughs so hard tears squeeze out of her eyes and drip down to the floor as she clutches at her sides.
Jet’s eyes narrow and he draws his hand back.
“I fail to see what’s so funny, Edie. Care to share the joke?”
She finally calms herself and sits up, wiping at her eyes and shaking her head, the action causing her vision to swim.
“You wouldn’t appreciate it. Trust me.” She pushes herself to her feet once her vision clears and dusts herself off, Jet watching her closely.
“You have to get your head in the game, Eden. Stop focusing on just Chaos. Or Zane. Or Cypress. You have everyone on those teams to worry about, some of them you aren’t even familiar with.”
Eden laughs, a high mirthless sound.
“Everyone except you and Travis, right, Jet?” she watches him closely this time, not surprised when he doesn’t look at her or answer her, smiling bitterly just before she lashes out in anger.
“Don’t you do the same thing with Jezebel and Ichabod? Why don‘t you back off on me and worry about yourself, Jet?”
Jet’s head snaps up and he looks at her, shocked at what she had just said. Eden stares at him blankly before turning her back on him and walking toward the showers. Jet finally finds his voice.
“Hey! We’re not done here!” he barks at her.
Eden stops, but she doesn’t turn around, doesn’t even look over her shoulder at him.
“I think we are. I don’t need any more training, Jet. Thank you for all you’ve done. I need to meet Travis anyway, he said he had something to show me.” And with that she disappears into the room with the showers, finally feeling something in her heart.
Pain.
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Freshly showered and clad comfortably in black yoga pants and layered tank tops, one black and one purple, her damp hair trailing down her back, Eden makes her way to Travis’ office, ignoring the sounds coming from the gym behind her as she steps on the elevator.
Jet was training hard.
The doors close before her and she turns to stare at her reflection in the mirror lining the back wall of the elevator.
She looks shell-shocked and tired. She. As if “she” isn’t me.
The doors open and she steps out into the hallways, turning without a thought to her destination.
Just a few short months ago, I was new to this building. No one expected me to stay. Just a little while before that, Jet and I were breathing down each other’s necks with unbridled animosity. Nothing stays the same. Everything changes.
She pauses in front of Travis’ door, debating heading for her room and just making the excuse that she had forgotten about their meeting, or she was tired after her training session with Jet. It technically wouldn’t be a lie. Technically. Her hand, prepared to knock, hovers just over the door as she makes her decision.
“You gonna knock or not? Either way, you won’t get much of an answer since I’m not in there.”
Eden practically jumps out of her skin as Travis speaks right behind her, chuckling at her reaction and stepping around her to open the door, waving her in before him. She glares at him and he grins back at her.
“You didn’t have to do that, you know.”
Travis raises an eyebrow.
“What, and let you just continue knocking until your knuckles bled… or let you decide I had forgotten and just go on to your room instead?” He watches her knowingly and she has the good grace to blush, looking down, his words hitting home.
Travis sighs, gripping one of her shoulders with a hand as he tilts her chin up with the other so she is looking at him. He smiles winningly.
“There now, that’s better. You have every right to be tired, sweetie, but I promise, this is something you’re going to want to see.”
She nods and gives him a half-smile. Travis taps her on her nose and the pair enter his office, Travis closing the door behind them, getting right down to business.
“Speaking as someone who has been involved in more Outlasts than anyone in the company, possibly barring Phrixus, I can tell you that you’re going into this one at a disadvantage. The champion always is, but you most of all, since you’ll be the first champion to ever have to compete twice and helm her own team. There’s also the fact that there are a few unknowns on these teams, not unknown to everyone, but unknown to you, certainly. I can’t change that first part. I wish I could.”
Travis pauses, giving her a sincerely concerned look, and Eden turns her head, pretending she hasn’t seen it. He sighs and shakes his head, continuing on.
“But the last, I can do something about so that you’re at least on equal footing, knowledge-wise, with your competitors.” He steps over to a door that she had always thought connected his and Jet’s offices, opening it.
Eden’s mouth drops open as she looks inside the large and rather filled room, realizing just how wrong she was. Travis grins beside her, enjoying her reaction.
Shelves line the walls, floor to ceiling, each one filled and stacked with books, videos, magazines, and audio tapes, each entry categorized and organized neatly. In one corner is a sound system hooked to a monitor, apparently there for the benefit of the various recordings. Eden steps into the room and moves around in a circle slowly, the amount of information collected making her dizzy for a moment. She looks questioningly at Travis.
“Is this all…?”
Travis finishes for her.
“In this room, there are files, notations, books, magazines, DVD’s, whatever you can think of, for any entertainment professional who has entered into UGWC, GIW, and/or LWF, and also those affiliated, even loosely, with them. It’s an impressive collection, and it’s what Jet and I use to… study. It’s now open for your use. I would suggest starting with those you don’t know first and move into the ones you’d like to understand better. Let me know if you need anything and happy hunting.” He smiles again and closes the door with her inside.
Eden has a moment of panic, irrationally checking the handle to make sure it isn’t locked. It isn’t. She breathes a sigh of relief and then stares around at the shelves stocked full of information, almost feeling overwhelmed. There was just so much.
How in the world did they get all thi-- never mind. It’s Travis.
She chuckles as she starts to walk around the room, feeling better than she has in a while.
Start with the unknowns, he said. Alright.
A name catches Eden’s eye and she draws a file labeled as “Victoria Jensen”, flipping it open. She nods as she notes the picture of the beautiful young woman smiling back at her.
“I remember her from here before. And Wrestlestock. Former MMA, like Jet, he’s even her idol. That should be interesting if she decides to stick around this time.”
She closes the file and puts it back, remembering enough about Vix that she doesn’t feel the need to continue in her perusal. She moves to another area of the room, finding what she’s looking for, slipping another file from its home in the shelf.
“Forewell Boding. He’s a panic attack waiting to happen. He won’t last long in the ring with Zane, Raenius, Ichabod, and whoever the last person on that already brutal team is.”
Eden shakes her head, wondering what the person who put this team together had been thinking, closing the file and sliding it back into place, continuing on in her selections.
“Natural Born Killer, NBK.”
This one sends a shiver down her spine.
“We teamed together at the last Synergy, and I use the term “teamed” loosely. The psychopath has made no bones about the fact that he dislikes me intensely. And why? Because he wants at Zane. Zane wants at me. This is apparently an issue in his mind, but in mine, they can have each other. Maybe they’ll take each other out before the Main Event. That would be luck.”
One thought continues to stand out, nagging at her, no matter how hard she tried to shove it away.
Zane’s already faced him, at Wrestlestock, and it was brutal. Zane came out the winner. What does that say about him? Nothing I don’t already know.
Her eyes scan the shelves again, stopping on Zane’s file, much thicker than the ones she had just looked through, what looks to be a journal accompanying it along with several DVD’s and recordings. She reaches for the information, but stops short, drawing her hand back.
No. The unknowns. Zane Scott is hardly an unknown. I know him far better than I’d like to.
Eden sighs and looks through the shelves again, searching for a name, discovering it on a higher shelf. She grumbles as she looks around for something to stand on, finally locating a stepladder leaning against a wall. She drags it over and climbs up, drawing her prize down, his file obviously containing more information than the others on his team
“Travis Roberts.”
“The Blessed One, The Headliner, The TWiSTeD Icon, The TWiSTeD Guerilla, The Most Influential Icon in Sports Entertainment this Millennia."
Eden laughs.
“So he thinks as highly of himself as Vain does and has just as many nicknames. Great. Just what this company needs, another egomaniac. And also like Vain, he appreciates an attractive woman. I’m sure I can find a way to use that to my benefit.”
She thumbs through the pages, an eyebrow quirking at Roberts’ list of accomplishments. He certainly wasn’t new to any of this, but it had been several years since he had seen the inside of a ring. Ring rust was the new black.
“Speaking of ring rust…”
Eden snaps Roberts’ file closed, spying another out of the corner of her eye.
“Ichabod.”
She replaces “The Blessed One’s” file and climbs down, drawing Ichabod’s out… and a look of confusion comes over her. The file looks to have held something at one time, but now, it lies empty. She sighs and slides the empty file back in, making a mental note to ask Travis about it as she does a quick rundown of the teams in her mind.
“Team PMN. Myself, Travis, Jet, and Risa. We know each other well, each of our strengths as well as our weaknesses, an asset and a problem at the same time. How long will we actually hold together? Until there are no DMW left. Beyond that… I need to face facts. I may well be facing those that I care about the most in that final match, looking across the ring at each other as we debate how best to make the other submit or what weakness to exploit.”
Eden shudders, closing her eyes as she tries to redirect the thoughts in her mind.
“Team DMW. Cypress, a newly-returned Chaos, an equally fresh Ryan Hanneman, and Lucky. I don’t think Lucky has even seen the inside of a ring, and the only wrestling Hanneman’s done recently has been in a jail cell with his bunk buddy. But that Hanneman… is a riddle, cloaked in a mystery, and wrapped in layers of hot, hot manliness. Down girl! Focus! Cypress and Chaos are the concerns here. Cypress is elated to have his bestie back and Chaos is just as happy to be back, but he’s also full of anger and hate. He’ll want a piece of Travis and Jet for everything they put him through, sure… but mostly me. And Cypress… well we all know how Cypress feels.”
She shakes her head, a sense of futility descending on her.
“Team Vain. Vain, Jezebel, >\/<, and Gian Jones. It’s possible Jez will have her hands so full with keeping that team in line, she may end up throwing herself out. Vain is a threat, but he can be distracted, and I get the feeling he has a soft spot for me. >\/< has the potential to be a danger, if he were ever prepared for anything. His history is a violent and brutal one, but lately he’s seemed… distracted. If that holds… And Gian Jones. An associate of PMN, or at least of Travis and Jet’s. He and Jet go way back. Could he be an ally? Or will he view this as the opportunity it is to further himself in this business?”
Eden starts to pace within the confines of the room.
“Team Cyclone. JK, Erika, Phrixus, and a mysterious fourth. JK has remarked several times that he isn’t interested in titles at the moment, and he has also declared himself firm in his efforts to aid PMN. Where JK goes, Erika goes. Phrixus is the wild card on this team, and whoever that fourth is. Deimos won’t give any quarter, but at least with him I know it isn’t personal.”
“Unlike Zane Scott.”
Eden’s eyes drift back over to the file taunting her from the shelves, and she walks over to it slowly, drawing it out.
“Team Zane. Zane, Raenius, Ichabod, and another unknown, a mystery Zane mocked Jet with. I can hazard a guess at who it is, and if I’m right, this vicious team loses one slot of credibility. But Zane, Raenius, and Ichabod are enough. Any more is overkill. Raenius. I know there’s a lot of history there, violent history. Dangerous history. But he has a dedication to family and blood, and that may be my saving grace with him.”
Her thoughts drift off as she opens the file on Zane Scott and slips one of the tapes into the DVD player, perusing the contents as she waits for it to come on.
She doesn’t have long to wait, graphic scenes playing out before her as her mouth hangs open in a silent gasp, her eyes widened in horror and sadness, the bright blue of her irises exploding.
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Hours later…
Eden sits and stares vacantly at the screen that has long since gone to a snowy background, the last DVD she had put in finally finished. She wears the expression of one in emotional shock, her crystalline blue eyes filling with tears and then overflowing, the tears slipping unhindered and unnoticed down her pale cheeks. She stands, the file that had sat in her lap for the past few hours falling to the floor, its contents scattering. She doesn’t even acknowledge it, or the fact that she has two more DVD’s left unwatched. Her muscles tense, as if expecting a blow from somewhere, no blow forthcoming. Her thoughts race as she opens the door and steps back into Travis’ office, the brighter light in here almost blinding her. She shields her eyes as she closes the door behind herself.
Jet and Travis sit at Travis’ desk, conversing quietly, their conversation ceasing immediately as she enters. She doesn’t notice as she blinks, looking around the room as one lost. Travis is the first to address her, not even looking up.
“Find everything you were looking for, Edie?”
She doesn’t answer. Once her eyes adjust to the light, she starts moving toward the door to leave, that feeling returned of not really being inside her own body. Jet watches her closely, his body stiffened.
“Eden… you okay?” he calls to her, but again, no response as she opens the door to Travis’ office and walks out, closing it quietly behind her. The two share a look.
“Exactly what was she looking at in there?” Jet asks Travis cautiously.
Travis shrugs.
“I told her to look at the stuff on the people she didn’t know.”
Jet shakes his head.
“That wouldn’t take this long or elicit that kind of reaction. Can you bring up the security feeds in here? I want to see what she does.” He moves quickly out of his chair beside Travis’ desk and enters the room Eden had just vacated. Travis quickly pulls up the security cameras for the building on his laptop, watching Eden in the elevator as she pulls out a cell phone. An exclamation seldom heard from Jet echoes from the room. He comes back out as quickly as he had entered, moving around Travis’ desk to study the security cameras.
“Can we get sound on that call she’s making?” Jet points at the screen of Eden on the phone as she steps out of the elevator, walking toward the main exit of the building.
Travis looks at Jet oddly but presses a few buttons and sound comes through, though rather garbled and broken. Travis shrugs.
“It only works if she’s speaking directly in front of one of the cam--”
“Did you hear that?! Rewind it!” Jet exclaims, almost tapping the screen. Travis’ brow furrows as he does as requested, rewinding the feed and listening.
“She just said ‘Damarest..’” Jet falls back into his chair, completely drained as he looks over at Travis. Travis makes a face.
“That’s insane, why would she say that?”
Jet is quiet for a moment before opening his mouth.
“Because she’s been watching tapes on Zane.”
Travis gives him a “who-gives-a-fuck” look before sobering.
“Oh shit.”
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The moments following her exit from Travis’ office had passed swiftly. She had called Damarest, and then called to ready one of the PMN jets. Eden had no memory how she had gotten to the small airport, and that frightened her, but she had come too far to turn back now. Too far, as in she was now in Chicago. Touching down.
She looks out the window beside her, her thoughts racing so fast she can barely understand them. And then the pilot is announcing she’s free to depart to her destination, with the hopes that she enjoys her stay in Chicago.
Eden remains glued to her chair, hands clutching the armrests.
What have I done? What I had to do.
She shakes her head, trying to clear the fog and the racing thoughts, gaining a small sense of relief. She unfastens the safety strap and exits through the open door of the jet, stepping carefully down the stairs.
They had landed at a small, private airport. She looks around, bewildered, the scenery unfamiliar to her, but the directions had been wired directly to her pilot. And there, there was her escort.
A black limousine awaits her in the parking area, pulled up close to where she will exit through. Nothing overly ostentatious, the vehicle is most circumspect, but there is something about it that makes her heart thunder in her chest. There was something vaguely ominous and sinister about the car, but then, she thought, she could be imposing her thoughts and feelings, all of which were completely turned upside-down, on an inanimate object.
I’m Eden Morgan. A black car doesn’t frighten me. I have worse things to fear.
She tosses her hair over her shoulder and strides with determination toward the vehicle awaiting her, drawing up short as the back doors open, seemingly of their own volition. A tall, large man steps out and smiles in welcome at her.
“Welcome to Chicago, Miss Morgan. Please, join us.” He holds a hand out, gesturing toward the interior of the vehicle.
Eden freezes, her skin paling even more than its usual porcelain, swallowing hard.
Colin Zale. I just saw this man on tape mere hours ago. Doing what he did… wait, did he say “we”? Then that means…
She moves forward on legs already feeling heavy, swallowing hard as she enters the vehicle, her eyes widening as she discovers her fears to be founded. An even larger man relaxes in the back corner of the limo, studying her with serious, dark eyes. He doesn’t say a word to her, but then he doesn’t have to. She knows him, her skin now ghostly as she presses into a seat opposite him. Colin Zale climbs in behind her and shuts the door, the sound echoing with finality.
And then she was shut in a moving vehicle with Colin Zale and James Spyder. Two of the men who were responsible for what Zane had turned out to be, what he was still developing into. Colin smiles across from her, trying to put her at ease, while Spyder just watches her, no movement going unseen.
How did I get here? Why am I even here?
Panic races through her mind as the limo travels to who knows where. She hadn’t asked and she didn’t want to now. It would show weakness on her part, and she instinctively knew she couldn’t show any more of that.
Not to these two men.
And definitely not to Damarest.
Somewhere at the end of this journey, Damarest waits. I’m here because I have to be. To right a wrong. I was wrong about Zane Scott. I was so---
Her thoughts are interrupted by a deep rumbling. She shakes her head and looks over at Colin Zale, his grin still in place. She clears her throat.
“I’m sorry, it’s been a really long day, I must have missed what you said.”
Colin chuckles.
“Nothing important. I was simply remarking to Jim, here, that this is what a World Champion looks like these days and how that's quite different from the business that we came up in. You’ve held the title for several months now. That's impressive. I’d wager it isn’t just your looks that have drawn young Zane’s notice.”
She blushes and looks out the window, drawing another laugh from Colin and a half-smile from Spyder. The car starts to slow and she notices they are in front of a club she’s passed in front of several times on her trips to Chicago. It was impressive, but hardly the destination she had expected. She turns a questioning eye to her companions, but Colin forestalls her.
“Just one of the many business places he owns. As far as I know, there isn't any grand psychological ploy behind choosing this venue, it's simply where they are at the moment. They're in the restaurant upstairs, not in the club that's downstairs.” Colin shrugs in seeming indifference before smiling at her again.
From that smile, and knowing what he is capable of, Eden is reminded of nothing more than a shark grinning at its next meal. The door opens from the outside, the driver standing behind it.
“Shall we?” Colin gestures politely for her to exit first. She looks between he and Spyder, a shiver running down her spine as she scoots for the door and slides out, proud of herself for not appearing to have bolted out of it. A chuckle behind her indicates that Colin still noticed as he and Spyder slip out behind her. The two men stand to either side of her, looking oddly out of place as messengers for Dirge. Jeans and t-shirts are not the attire that she's accustomed to seeing friends and agents of Dirge in, causing her to be struck by their immense size again. They had even looked large beside Zane as they had...
Colin places a hand at the small of her back, urging her forward. She stiffens immediately, unable to help herself, jerking forward. Colin notices and hides his smile, glancing at Spyder. The two share a look and enter behind the girl now walking into the club as if she’s approaching her execution, still holding her head with the regal bearing of a queen.
“I’ll say this for her...she’s got spunk.”
Spyder gives a half-smile and replies with a simple "Indeed" at Colin’s assessment as the two disappear through the doors of the club behind her.
Eden stops short just inside the club, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. Colin’s hand on her back navigates her forward to a set of stairs spiraling upwards. He checks his phone and then indicates they should ascend. She looks over at him and laughs, Colin raising an eyebrow quizzically.
Funny, we’re going up. I thought a descent into hell would be much more appropriate.
She doesn’t give voice to her thoughts, using the loud music as an excuse as she starts to climb, Colin taking the lead and Spyder behind her.
Like a prisoner.
She shivers at her thoughts, jerking to a halt when they reach the top, a magnificent restaurant stretched out before her. It’s then she becomes aware of her clothing, looking down at herself, still in her figure-hugging black yoga pants and layered purple and black tank tops, black ballet flats slid onto her feet. She flushes, Colin clearing his throat to imply that they should continue. Eden takes a deep breath and straightens her spine, her shoulders back as she marches forward, already seeing their destination, Colin walking behind her, the admiration clear on his face.
Damarest.
I know he’s noticed me, the man would notice a fly on the wall in another room. He’s pretending he hasn’t just to see how I’ll react. Well it won’t work. Zane was right. He is a demon. Why did I come here? This is a devil’s den. How can I possibly think I’ll make a difference? I don’t even know what to say…
And suddenly the room has been crossed too quickly to change her mind or do any more thinking. She presses her lips together as she steps before the tall, very fit man in his well-tailored, dark suit, Colin and Spyder moving away, but still close enough to hear the conversation. She is again reminded sharply of her lack of suitable clothing, a reminder that only serves to irritate her. Damarest finally looks up at her, an amused look on his face.
“Miss Morgan. What a pleasant surprise. I wasn’t sure you actually meant to come all the way here from your fortress in Atlanta, but here you are. And dressed so...charmingly. It must have been an impromptu urgency that brought you here with such swiftness. May I inquire as to the nature of your visit? Requesting to see us...” His tone starts off neutral, nearing friendly, with a touch of concern. It ends with a hint of menace, enough to set her pulse racing.
This is Damarest, David Damarest. He answers to Dirge, sometimes referred to as The Assassin, The Demon. And I’m here to beard the lion in his own den. What was I thinking?
She opens her mouth to speak, but her response is apparently not swift enough for Damarest who smiles, the affectation not quite meeting his eyes.
“Come now, Miss Morgan, I know you to be much more conversational than this. Some might even call you "lippy". What could possibly have changed such a dominant trait?”
He knows. I don’t know how, exactly, but he knows.
“I need to see Zane,” Eden finally finds her voice, the words tumbling out. She presses her lips together, gauging Damarest’s reaction. He responds with a simple raised eyebrow.
“That's an intriguing request. Whatever for?” Damarest muses almost to himself, Colin’s snicker interjecting between them.
“I can think of a few reasons. We all know that he'd really enjoy at least a few of them if they are with her.”
Eden’s face goes up in flames, fully understanding his words. Damarest looks at her shrewdly before continuing.
“You must understand, Miss Morgan, with Outlast only a few days away, I can’t just let you go unquestioned into Zane’s presence, not knowing what your intentions are. I don’t doubt that he could handle you himself, as he has many times, but Zane tends to not think things through in regard to you. I’m not sure just yet which of you would benefit from that, should that become the prevailing issue tonight.”
Eden shakes her head slowly, her eyes locked on Damarest’s, determination in her voice.
“I’m not here to attack Zane or otherwise inhibit his attempts at Outlast. I’m not here to harm him at all.”
He’s been harmed enough.
The words hang between them, unsaid, but both understand. Damarest inclines his head and steps aside, a series of rooms behind him, all with their doors closed.
“You’ll find Zane in the second office, Miss Morgan. May you find whatever it is that you're seeking, even if it's unpleasant.” Damarest smirks in her direction as she hurries forward, her spine stiff until she is well past him.
Eden stops before the door Damarest had indicated, trying to calm her racing heart. She had done it. Or had she? She reaches a hand forward, gripping the cool handle of the door and turning it. The door opens slowly, revealing naught but darkness within, save the dancing flames from a few candles placed on a desk. The candles shine enough light into the room to illuminate the massive frame of Zane Scott, standing silhouetted against the large window he’s been looking out of. He turns, facing her fully, a predatory grin on his face as he looks her over.
“Hello, Eden.”
And then the door closes behind her.
Eden slams to the floor for what seems the hundredth time as Jet shoves the punching bag into her again. She doesn’t even bother getting up this time, lying flat on her back and staring at the ceiling of the gym. It didn’t hurt anymore, but then nothing really did. She felt completely numb and her brain was fuzzy, as if she were watching everything from a distance and not from her own eyes. On the side, Jet throws his hands up, pacing back and forth, completely at a loss.
“What was that?! You’re not paying attention, Eden, and right now you really need to. In a week it won’t be a punching bag hitting you, that’ll be Zane Scott or Cypress, Vain, Travis Roberts, Chaos, or any and everyone on those teams! Get up! Focus!”
She cocks her head to the side, still unmoving, as he continues to rant and rave, distantly thinking that he seems more agitated than usual.
Ichabod. That announcement really threw him for a loop, and it doesn’t help that Jezebel’s on Vain’s team. On top of everything else that’s been going on… and he’s still taking the time out to train me.
When is a good time to tell him I’m done?
When is a good time to tell him I don’t want it anymore?
She rolls to her stomach, getting her feet under her and pushing herself up to a standing position as she nibbles at her lower lip, her last thought completely consuming her.
Eden takes a few steps forward… and walks right into the bag shoved hard at her approaching figure. She grunts as it knocks the air from her lungs and sends a twinge through her still-sensitive ribs. Hugs from Zane were not nice at all. She has enough awareness to curl her body around itself as she lands, rolling across the floor. She groans. She had been wrong. That one had hurt.
And Jet was going off again. He hadn’t even let her get over to her bag this time. She hadn’t been close to prepared.
Who am I kidding? I’m getting worse.
She closes her eyes and exhales forcefully, wishing she were anywhere but here right now. Her body ached. And her mind was numb. It wasn’t a good combination, especially going into one of the more dangerous PPV’s she’d ever been involved in.
I blame Chaos. Who knew he was that good of an actor? Jet, apparently. Deep down, I knew better, but I had convinced myself the head injury was real, the amnesia was real, that underneath it all, he really was a good and decent guy. Partly because he did such an impressive job as Chadwick, and partly because I wanted to. I wanted Chadwick to be real, for Chaos to have become that. It meant I didn’t have Chaos breathing down my neck anymore. It meant that there was a bridge between my old life and my new one.
And it hurt Cypress.
I think I enjoyed that most of all.
Jet’s face comes into view as he stands over her, looking down, his brow furrowed as he tries to figure out if she’s had enough.
“Hey… you okay?” He holds out a hand to help her to her feet and Eden bursts out laughing. She laughs so hard tears squeeze out of her eyes and drip down to the floor as she clutches at her sides.
Jet’s eyes narrow and he draws his hand back.
“I fail to see what’s so funny, Edie. Care to share the joke?”
She finally calms herself and sits up, wiping at her eyes and shaking her head, the action causing her vision to swim.
“You wouldn’t appreciate it. Trust me.” She pushes herself to her feet once her vision clears and dusts herself off, Jet watching her closely.
“You have to get your head in the game, Eden. Stop focusing on just Chaos. Or Zane. Or Cypress. You have everyone on those teams to worry about, some of them you aren’t even familiar with.”
Eden laughs, a high mirthless sound.
“Everyone except you and Travis, right, Jet?” she watches him closely this time, not surprised when he doesn’t look at her or answer her, smiling bitterly just before she lashes out in anger.
“Don’t you do the same thing with Jezebel and Ichabod? Why don‘t you back off on me and worry about yourself, Jet?”
Jet’s head snaps up and he looks at her, shocked at what she had just said. Eden stares at him blankly before turning her back on him and walking toward the showers. Jet finally finds his voice.
“Hey! We’re not done here!” he barks at her.
Eden stops, but she doesn’t turn around, doesn’t even look over her shoulder at him.
“I think we are. I don’t need any more training, Jet. Thank you for all you’ve done. I need to meet Travis anyway, he said he had something to show me.” And with that she disappears into the room with the showers, finally feeling something in her heart.
Pain.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Freshly showered and clad comfortably in black yoga pants and layered tank tops, one black and one purple, her damp hair trailing down her back, Eden makes her way to Travis’ office, ignoring the sounds coming from the gym behind her as she steps on the elevator.
Jet was training hard.
The doors close before her and she turns to stare at her reflection in the mirror lining the back wall of the elevator.
She looks shell-shocked and tired. She. As if “she” isn’t me.
The doors open and she steps out into the hallways, turning without a thought to her destination.
Just a few short months ago, I was new to this building. No one expected me to stay. Just a little while before that, Jet and I were breathing down each other’s necks with unbridled animosity. Nothing stays the same. Everything changes.
She pauses in front of Travis’ door, debating heading for her room and just making the excuse that she had forgotten about their meeting, or she was tired after her training session with Jet. It technically wouldn’t be a lie. Technically. Her hand, prepared to knock, hovers just over the door as she makes her decision.
“You gonna knock or not? Either way, you won’t get much of an answer since I’m not in there.”
Eden practically jumps out of her skin as Travis speaks right behind her, chuckling at her reaction and stepping around her to open the door, waving her in before him. She glares at him and he grins back at her.
“You didn’t have to do that, you know.”
Travis raises an eyebrow.
“What, and let you just continue knocking until your knuckles bled… or let you decide I had forgotten and just go on to your room instead?” He watches her knowingly and she has the good grace to blush, looking down, his words hitting home.
Travis sighs, gripping one of her shoulders with a hand as he tilts her chin up with the other so she is looking at him. He smiles winningly.
“There now, that’s better. You have every right to be tired, sweetie, but I promise, this is something you’re going to want to see.”
She nods and gives him a half-smile. Travis taps her on her nose and the pair enter his office, Travis closing the door behind them, getting right down to business.
“Speaking as someone who has been involved in more Outlasts than anyone in the company, possibly barring Phrixus, I can tell you that you’re going into this one at a disadvantage. The champion always is, but you most of all, since you’ll be the first champion to ever have to compete twice and helm her own team. There’s also the fact that there are a few unknowns on these teams, not unknown to everyone, but unknown to you, certainly. I can’t change that first part. I wish I could.”
Travis pauses, giving her a sincerely concerned look, and Eden turns her head, pretending she hasn’t seen it. He sighs and shakes his head, continuing on.
“But the last, I can do something about so that you’re at least on equal footing, knowledge-wise, with your competitors.” He steps over to a door that she had always thought connected his and Jet’s offices, opening it.
Eden’s mouth drops open as she looks inside the large and rather filled room, realizing just how wrong she was. Travis grins beside her, enjoying her reaction.
Shelves line the walls, floor to ceiling, each one filled and stacked with books, videos, magazines, and audio tapes, each entry categorized and organized neatly. In one corner is a sound system hooked to a monitor, apparently there for the benefit of the various recordings. Eden steps into the room and moves around in a circle slowly, the amount of information collected making her dizzy for a moment. She looks questioningly at Travis.
“Is this all…?”
Travis finishes for her.
“In this room, there are files, notations, books, magazines, DVD’s, whatever you can think of, for any entertainment professional who has entered into UGWC, GIW, and/or LWF, and also those affiliated, even loosely, with them. It’s an impressive collection, and it’s what Jet and I use to… study. It’s now open for your use. I would suggest starting with those you don’t know first and move into the ones you’d like to understand better. Let me know if you need anything and happy hunting.” He smiles again and closes the door with her inside.
Eden has a moment of panic, irrationally checking the handle to make sure it isn’t locked. It isn’t. She breathes a sigh of relief and then stares around at the shelves stocked full of information, almost feeling overwhelmed. There was just so much.
How in the world did they get all thi-- never mind. It’s Travis.
She chuckles as she starts to walk around the room, feeling better than she has in a while.
Start with the unknowns, he said. Alright.
A name catches Eden’s eye and she draws a file labeled as “Victoria Jensen”, flipping it open. She nods as she notes the picture of the beautiful young woman smiling back at her.
“I remember her from here before. And Wrestlestock. Former MMA, like Jet, he’s even her idol. That should be interesting if she decides to stick around this time.”
She closes the file and puts it back, remembering enough about Vix that she doesn’t feel the need to continue in her perusal. She moves to another area of the room, finding what she’s looking for, slipping another file from its home in the shelf.
“Forewell Boding. He’s a panic attack waiting to happen. He won’t last long in the ring with Zane, Raenius, Ichabod, and whoever the last person on that already brutal team is.”
Eden shakes her head, wondering what the person who put this team together had been thinking, closing the file and sliding it back into place, continuing on in her selections.
“Natural Born Killer, NBK.”
This one sends a shiver down her spine.
“We teamed together at the last Synergy, and I use the term “teamed” loosely. The psychopath has made no bones about the fact that he dislikes me intensely. And why? Because he wants at Zane. Zane wants at me. This is apparently an issue in his mind, but in mine, they can have each other. Maybe they’ll take each other out before the Main Event. That would be luck.”
One thought continues to stand out, nagging at her, no matter how hard she tried to shove it away.
Zane’s already faced him, at Wrestlestock, and it was brutal. Zane came out the winner. What does that say about him? Nothing I don’t already know.
Her eyes scan the shelves again, stopping on Zane’s file, much thicker than the ones she had just looked through, what looks to be a journal accompanying it along with several DVD’s and recordings. She reaches for the information, but stops short, drawing her hand back.
No. The unknowns. Zane Scott is hardly an unknown. I know him far better than I’d like to.
Eden sighs and looks through the shelves again, searching for a name, discovering it on a higher shelf. She grumbles as she looks around for something to stand on, finally locating a stepladder leaning against a wall. She drags it over and climbs up, drawing her prize down, his file obviously containing more information than the others on his team
“Travis Roberts.”
“The Blessed One, The Headliner, The TWiSTeD Icon, The TWiSTeD Guerilla, The Most Influential Icon in Sports Entertainment this Millennia."
Eden laughs.
“So he thinks as highly of himself as Vain does and has just as many nicknames. Great. Just what this company needs, another egomaniac. And also like Vain, he appreciates an attractive woman. I’m sure I can find a way to use that to my benefit.”
She thumbs through the pages, an eyebrow quirking at Roberts’ list of accomplishments. He certainly wasn’t new to any of this, but it had been several years since he had seen the inside of a ring. Ring rust was the new black.
“Speaking of ring rust…”
Eden snaps Roberts’ file closed, spying another out of the corner of her eye.
“Ichabod.”
She replaces “The Blessed One’s” file and climbs down, drawing Ichabod’s out… and a look of confusion comes over her. The file looks to have held something at one time, but now, it lies empty. She sighs and slides the empty file back in, making a mental note to ask Travis about it as she does a quick rundown of the teams in her mind.
“Team PMN. Myself, Travis, Jet, and Risa. We know each other well, each of our strengths as well as our weaknesses, an asset and a problem at the same time. How long will we actually hold together? Until there are no DMW left. Beyond that… I need to face facts. I may well be facing those that I care about the most in that final match, looking across the ring at each other as we debate how best to make the other submit or what weakness to exploit.”
Eden shudders, closing her eyes as she tries to redirect the thoughts in her mind.
“Team DMW. Cypress, a newly-returned Chaos, an equally fresh Ryan Hanneman, and Lucky. I don’t think Lucky has even seen the inside of a ring, and the only wrestling Hanneman’s done recently has been in a jail cell with his bunk buddy. But that Hanneman… is a riddle, cloaked in a mystery, and wrapped in layers of hot, hot manliness. Down girl! Focus! Cypress and Chaos are the concerns here. Cypress is elated to have his bestie back and Chaos is just as happy to be back, but he’s also full of anger and hate. He’ll want a piece of Travis and Jet for everything they put him through, sure… but mostly me. And Cypress… well we all know how Cypress feels.”
She shakes her head, a sense of futility descending on her.
“Team Vain. Vain, Jezebel, >\/<, and Gian Jones. It’s possible Jez will have her hands so full with keeping that team in line, she may end up throwing herself out. Vain is a threat, but he can be distracted, and I get the feeling he has a soft spot for me. >\/< has the potential to be a danger, if he were ever prepared for anything. His history is a violent and brutal one, but lately he’s seemed… distracted. If that holds… And Gian Jones. An associate of PMN, or at least of Travis and Jet’s. He and Jet go way back. Could he be an ally? Or will he view this as the opportunity it is to further himself in this business?”
Eden starts to pace within the confines of the room.
“Team Cyclone. JK, Erika, Phrixus, and a mysterious fourth. JK has remarked several times that he isn’t interested in titles at the moment, and he has also declared himself firm in his efforts to aid PMN. Where JK goes, Erika goes. Phrixus is the wild card on this team, and whoever that fourth is. Deimos won’t give any quarter, but at least with him I know it isn’t personal.”
“Unlike Zane Scott.”
Eden’s eyes drift back over to the file taunting her from the shelves, and she walks over to it slowly, drawing it out.
“Team Zane. Zane, Raenius, Ichabod, and another unknown, a mystery Zane mocked Jet with. I can hazard a guess at who it is, and if I’m right, this vicious team loses one slot of credibility. But Zane, Raenius, and Ichabod are enough. Any more is overkill. Raenius. I know there’s a lot of history there, violent history. Dangerous history. But he has a dedication to family and blood, and that may be my saving grace with him.”
Her thoughts drift off as she opens the file on Zane Scott and slips one of the tapes into the DVD player, perusing the contents as she waits for it to come on.
She doesn’t have long to wait, graphic scenes playing out before her as her mouth hangs open in a silent gasp, her eyes widened in horror and sadness, the bright blue of her irises exploding.
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Hours later…
Eden sits and stares vacantly at the screen that has long since gone to a snowy background, the last DVD she had put in finally finished. She wears the expression of one in emotional shock, her crystalline blue eyes filling with tears and then overflowing, the tears slipping unhindered and unnoticed down her pale cheeks. She stands, the file that had sat in her lap for the past few hours falling to the floor, its contents scattering. She doesn’t even acknowledge it, or the fact that she has two more DVD’s left unwatched. Her muscles tense, as if expecting a blow from somewhere, no blow forthcoming. Her thoughts race as she opens the door and steps back into Travis’ office, the brighter light in here almost blinding her. She shields her eyes as she closes the door behind herself.
Jet and Travis sit at Travis’ desk, conversing quietly, their conversation ceasing immediately as she enters. She doesn’t notice as she blinks, looking around the room as one lost. Travis is the first to address her, not even looking up.
“Find everything you were looking for, Edie?”
She doesn’t answer. Once her eyes adjust to the light, she starts moving toward the door to leave, that feeling returned of not really being inside her own body. Jet watches her closely, his body stiffened.
“Eden… you okay?” he calls to her, but again, no response as she opens the door to Travis’ office and walks out, closing it quietly behind her. The two share a look.
“Exactly what was she looking at in there?” Jet asks Travis cautiously.
Travis shrugs.
“I told her to look at the stuff on the people she didn’t know.”
Jet shakes his head.
“That wouldn’t take this long or elicit that kind of reaction. Can you bring up the security feeds in here? I want to see what she does.” He moves quickly out of his chair beside Travis’ desk and enters the room Eden had just vacated. Travis quickly pulls up the security cameras for the building on his laptop, watching Eden in the elevator as she pulls out a cell phone. An exclamation seldom heard from Jet echoes from the room. He comes back out as quickly as he had entered, moving around Travis’ desk to study the security cameras.
“Can we get sound on that call she’s making?” Jet points at the screen of Eden on the phone as she steps out of the elevator, walking toward the main exit of the building.
Travis looks at Jet oddly but presses a few buttons and sound comes through, though rather garbled and broken. Travis shrugs.
“It only works if she’s speaking directly in front of one of the cam--”
“Did you hear that?! Rewind it!” Jet exclaims, almost tapping the screen. Travis’ brow furrows as he does as requested, rewinding the feed and listening.
“She just said ‘Damarest..’” Jet falls back into his chair, completely drained as he looks over at Travis. Travis makes a face.
“That’s insane, why would she say that?”
Jet is quiet for a moment before opening his mouth.
“Because she’s been watching tapes on Zane.”
Travis gives him a “who-gives-a-fuck” look before sobering.
“Oh shit.”
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The moments following her exit from Travis’ office had passed swiftly. She had called Damarest, and then called to ready one of the PMN jets. Eden had no memory how she had gotten to the small airport, and that frightened her, but she had come too far to turn back now. Too far, as in she was now in Chicago. Touching down.
She looks out the window beside her, her thoughts racing so fast she can barely understand them. And then the pilot is announcing she’s free to depart to her destination, with the hopes that she enjoys her stay in Chicago.
Eden remains glued to her chair, hands clutching the armrests.
What have I done? What I had to do.
She shakes her head, trying to clear the fog and the racing thoughts, gaining a small sense of relief. She unfastens the safety strap and exits through the open door of the jet, stepping carefully down the stairs.
They had landed at a small, private airport. She looks around, bewildered, the scenery unfamiliar to her, but the directions had been wired directly to her pilot. And there, there was her escort.
A black limousine awaits her in the parking area, pulled up close to where she will exit through. Nothing overly ostentatious, the vehicle is most circumspect, but there is something about it that makes her heart thunder in her chest. There was something vaguely ominous and sinister about the car, but then, she thought, she could be imposing her thoughts and feelings, all of which were completely turned upside-down, on an inanimate object.
I’m Eden Morgan. A black car doesn’t frighten me. I have worse things to fear.
She tosses her hair over her shoulder and strides with determination toward the vehicle awaiting her, drawing up short as the back doors open, seemingly of their own volition. A tall, large man steps out and smiles in welcome at her.
“Welcome to Chicago, Miss Morgan. Please, join us.” He holds a hand out, gesturing toward the interior of the vehicle.
Eden freezes, her skin paling even more than its usual porcelain, swallowing hard.
Colin Zale. I just saw this man on tape mere hours ago. Doing what he did… wait, did he say “we”? Then that means…
She moves forward on legs already feeling heavy, swallowing hard as she enters the vehicle, her eyes widening as she discovers her fears to be founded. An even larger man relaxes in the back corner of the limo, studying her with serious, dark eyes. He doesn’t say a word to her, but then he doesn’t have to. She knows him, her skin now ghostly as she presses into a seat opposite him. Colin Zale climbs in behind her and shuts the door, the sound echoing with finality.
And then she was shut in a moving vehicle with Colin Zale and James Spyder. Two of the men who were responsible for what Zane had turned out to be, what he was still developing into. Colin smiles across from her, trying to put her at ease, while Spyder just watches her, no movement going unseen.
How did I get here? Why am I even here?
Panic races through her mind as the limo travels to who knows where. She hadn’t asked and she didn’t want to now. It would show weakness on her part, and she instinctively knew she couldn’t show any more of that.
Not to these two men.
And definitely not to Damarest.
Somewhere at the end of this journey, Damarest waits. I’m here because I have to be. To right a wrong. I was wrong about Zane Scott. I was so---
Her thoughts are interrupted by a deep rumbling. She shakes her head and looks over at Colin Zale, his grin still in place. She clears her throat.
“I’m sorry, it’s been a really long day, I must have missed what you said.”
Colin chuckles.
“Nothing important. I was simply remarking to Jim, here, that this is what a World Champion looks like these days and how that's quite different from the business that we came up in. You’ve held the title for several months now. That's impressive. I’d wager it isn’t just your looks that have drawn young Zane’s notice.”
She blushes and looks out the window, drawing another laugh from Colin and a half-smile from Spyder. The car starts to slow and she notices they are in front of a club she’s passed in front of several times on her trips to Chicago. It was impressive, but hardly the destination she had expected. She turns a questioning eye to her companions, but Colin forestalls her.
“Just one of the many business places he owns. As far as I know, there isn't any grand psychological ploy behind choosing this venue, it's simply where they are at the moment. They're in the restaurant upstairs, not in the club that's downstairs.” Colin shrugs in seeming indifference before smiling at her again.
From that smile, and knowing what he is capable of, Eden is reminded of nothing more than a shark grinning at its next meal. The door opens from the outside, the driver standing behind it.
“Shall we?” Colin gestures politely for her to exit first. She looks between he and Spyder, a shiver running down her spine as she scoots for the door and slides out, proud of herself for not appearing to have bolted out of it. A chuckle behind her indicates that Colin still noticed as he and Spyder slip out behind her. The two men stand to either side of her, looking oddly out of place as messengers for Dirge. Jeans and t-shirts are not the attire that she's accustomed to seeing friends and agents of Dirge in, causing her to be struck by their immense size again. They had even looked large beside Zane as they had...
Colin places a hand at the small of her back, urging her forward. She stiffens immediately, unable to help herself, jerking forward. Colin notices and hides his smile, glancing at Spyder. The two share a look and enter behind the girl now walking into the club as if she’s approaching her execution, still holding her head with the regal bearing of a queen.
“I’ll say this for her...she’s got spunk.”
Spyder gives a half-smile and replies with a simple "Indeed" at Colin’s assessment as the two disappear through the doors of the club behind her.
Eden stops short just inside the club, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. Colin’s hand on her back navigates her forward to a set of stairs spiraling upwards. He checks his phone and then indicates they should ascend. She looks over at him and laughs, Colin raising an eyebrow quizzically.
Funny, we’re going up. I thought a descent into hell would be much more appropriate.
She doesn’t give voice to her thoughts, using the loud music as an excuse as she starts to climb, Colin taking the lead and Spyder behind her.
Like a prisoner.
She shivers at her thoughts, jerking to a halt when they reach the top, a magnificent restaurant stretched out before her. It’s then she becomes aware of her clothing, looking down at herself, still in her figure-hugging black yoga pants and layered purple and black tank tops, black ballet flats slid onto her feet. She flushes, Colin clearing his throat to imply that they should continue. Eden takes a deep breath and straightens her spine, her shoulders back as she marches forward, already seeing their destination, Colin walking behind her, the admiration clear on his face.
Damarest.
I know he’s noticed me, the man would notice a fly on the wall in another room. He’s pretending he hasn’t just to see how I’ll react. Well it won’t work. Zane was right. He is a demon. Why did I come here? This is a devil’s den. How can I possibly think I’ll make a difference? I don’t even know what to say…
And suddenly the room has been crossed too quickly to change her mind or do any more thinking. She presses her lips together as she steps before the tall, very fit man in his well-tailored, dark suit, Colin and Spyder moving away, but still close enough to hear the conversation. She is again reminded sharply of her lack of suitable clothing, a reminder that only serves to irritate her. Damarest finally looks up at her, an amused look on his face.
“Miss Morgan. What a pleasant surprise. I wasn’t sure you actually meant to come all the way here from your fortress in Atlanta, but here you are. And dressed so...charmingly. It must have been an impromptu urgency that brought you here with such swiftness. May I inquire as to the nature of your visit? Requesting to see us...” His tone starts off neutral, nearing friendly, with a touch of concern. It ends with a hint of menace, enough to set her pulse racing.
This is Damarest, David Damarest. He answers to Dirge, sometimes referred to as The Assassin, The Demon. And I’m here to beard the lion in his own den. What was I thinking?
She opens her mouth to speak, but her response is apparently not swift enough for Damarest who smiles, the affectation not quite meeting his eyes.
“Come now, Miss Morgan, I know you to be much more conversational than this. Some might even call you "lippy". What could possibly have changed such a dominant trait?”
He knows. I don’t know how, exactly, but he knows.
“I need to see Zane,” Eden finally finds her voice, the words tumbling out. She presses her lips together, gauging Damarest’s reaction. He responds with a simple raised eyebrow.
“That's an intriguing request. Whatever for?” Damarest muses almost to himself, Colin’s snicker interjecting between them.
“I can think of a few reasons. We all know that he'd really enjoy at least a few of them if they are with her.”
Eden’s face goes up in flames, fully understanding his words. Damarest looks at her shrewdly before continuing.
“You must understand, Miss Morgan, with Outlast only a few days away, I can’t just let you go unquestioned into Zane’s presence, not knowing what your intentions are. I don’t doubt that he could handle you himself, as he has many times, but Zane tends to not think things through in regard to you. I’m not sure just yet which of you would benefit from that, should that become the prevailing issue tonight.”
Eden shakes her head slowly, her eyes locked on Damarest’s, determination in her voice.
“I’m not here to attack Zane or otherwise inhibit his attempts at Outlast. I’m not here to harm him at all.”
He’s been harmed enough.
The words hang between them, unsaid, but both understand. Damarest inclines his head and steps aside, a series of rooms behind him, all with their doors closed.
“You’ll find Zane in the second office, Miss Morgan. May you find whatever it is that you're seeking, even if it's unpleasant.” Damarest smirks in her direction as she hurries forward, her spine stiff until she is well past him.
Eden stops before the door Damarest had indicated, trying to calm her racing heart. She had done it. Or had she? She reaches a hand forward, gripping the cool handle of the door and turning it. The door opens slowly, revealing naught but darkness within, save the dancing flames from a few candles placed on a desk. The candles shine enough light into the room to illuminate the massive frame of Zane Scott, standing silhouetted against the large window he’s been looking out of. He turns, facing her fully, a predatory grin on his face as he looks her over.
“Hello, Eden.”
And then the door closes behind her.