Post by Jet Somers on May 2, 2014 2:39:19 GMT -5
He almost can't believe it.
The notification was one he'd started to ignore. Between Kurt Brady and Jason Ingalls, Jet had all but given up on Twitter. He'd noted Edie's good luck wishes, and pondered momentarily over Erika's panicked fretting, but mostly, The Wild Card had gone ghost on the social networking website.
But that was before James Spyder had decided to tag, for the first time, two entertainment professionals in his cryptic tweet.
Travis Pierce and Jet Somers.
That one tweet had told Jet plenty, nearly everything he wanted to know.
When he had watched the footage of Colin Zale carrying his would-be sister out of the MTS Center, the worst fear he had was that the monster had been carrying her back to his brood.
And now that fear was confirmed. Spyder had all but outright told the world, and Jet, that they had her, they being the two of them, and by extrapolation, Zane Scott. He had dared allow himself the briefest moment of belief that Colin was truly looking out for Eden's best interests out of a sense of real concern, and not as some part of a larger plot. Mores the fool.
He had rattled off a response, baiting Spyder, trying to fill in the gaps. As he glared at the screen in anticipation, only a few minutes went by before he got his satisfaction. Another tweet. Spyder saying the words Jet had expected.
They wanted him to understand.
Over the course of the last four days, he had come to understand far more than they would ever expect of him.
Since the announcement of the formation of the supergroup, the Puppet Masters had fooled all of them into thinking there was a giant chess game being laid, and PMN, DMW, and Moss Edwards had gone out of their way to cause as much disruption and rule breaking as possible.
Sitting here now, reading and rereading the second tweet from The Mountain, Jet casts his mind back to the aftermath of the Blindfold match. He had forced himself to see between the lines of what was said, and actually read the face value in the words. Nevermind the "Silverdome Slipup" that David "Hogan" Damarest had bungled by calling Dexter Vines by a play by play commentator's name. He finally saw what the Puppet Masters were doing, and after Cypress lost the game that he hadn't realized he was playing by their rules the entire time, Jet knew he wasn't going to play anymore.
The Blindfold, so to speak, had been removed.
Finally turning away from the laptop screen, Jet reaches across the table to pick up his Samsung. He thumbs through the contacts list, one so extensive and built from the hard labor of their information department, and lands on one of the six numbers listed for James Spyder. Selecting one at random, he presses the 'call' icon, and puts the cell to his ear.
It rings exactly three times before the voicemail picks up. No greeting, no information dump, just the cold and impersonal tone, followed by the silence he was supposed to fill with his message.
"No, I didn't expect you to answer," he speaks clearly and with resolve, no hesitation or apprehension in his voice whatsoever. "Someone like you cannot be reached that easily, even with the well paid staff I employ. I have no doubt, however, that this message will find it's way to you, and so there's no need to go to further lengths just to hear your condescension."
"At this point, Eden will have ended up in the last place on Earth I ever wanted her to be, and that is in your possession, surrounded by your ilk. Since I have ultimately realized that this is by and large due to my own failings, I gladly accept the blame for that. I'll spare you the internal turmoil this is causing me, as I doubt you'll buy a word of it."
"Since I know you'll eventually hear this recording, I only have a few things I want to say. First, for what it's worth, I'll appeal to your better natures and ask that we be given some assurance of her safety and well being. It did not escape our notice that Edie left No Holds Barred in a tragically broken state, and we are on pins and needles about how she has fared over the last half a week."
At this point, he has to struggle to keep a hitch out of his voice. He is truly and deeply concerned for Eden, but any sign of weakness will not afford the respect he needs from these men in order to gain the information he desparately has to have. Knowing the progression of her deteriorating mental state, or any possible recovery from it, is the first priority. Jet clears his throat and returns to his cold, professional tone.
"Secondly, a warning that I'm sure will fall on deaf ears, or at least be chuckled at when I express it. Decide for yourselves the wisdom of ignoring what I am about to say. Should you allow any harm to befall our beloved sister, the repercussions that follow will be dire."
"Simply for the sake of illustration, let me remind you that you have essentially kidnapped the object of affection of my brother, the man who most recently acquired a talisman which brings to life his more twisted and uncontrollable tendancies. The cage has once again been opened on the weapon that Travis Pierce keeps siloed for much of his air time, and if you are still pooh-poohing at that, let me remind you that his last foray into that dark mindset was compelling enough that your own protege saw fit to mimic one of his fits when he was pushed into poking the beast that is Phrixus Deimos."
Having warmed to his message, Jet prepares to deliver the final shot.
"Finally, let me assure you that your continual projection of the static predictability we've all come to expect from Elite Enterprises does not fit The Wild Card so well as you would like to believe when the three of you get all chummy. As of this point in the message, I'm sure you're calculating the steps you need to take in order to prepare for the gallant charge you envision me taking. Let me assure you that there is no need."
"The hardest lesson I've had to learn from all of this is that I have no right or justification in toying with the life of Eden Morgan more than she allows. If... and I strongly emphasize that if... the time comes in which Eden needs my rescue, she will find a way to let me know, and I will swiftly execute that rescue without hesitation, as I have done for her before, as I have done for my other sister before her."
At this point, the Opie grin which had almost become extinct, and had not been seen so far in this calender year, overtakes his visage.
"In the meantime, my girl can take care of herself. I won't have to remind you that I once dealt with the incarceration of Edie myself. You're in for a treat, old man. You're about to learn a hard lesson yourself, taught to you by someone you view as a broken doll needing the sharpest stitches and most caustic glue only you can provide. That lesson is this: Eden Morgan's mind may be broken, but her heart still beats soundly in there, and even if you have claimed possession of her, she will show you that PMN STILL OWNS YOU."
The last four words come out as a harsh whisper, a promise of things to come. His smile is almost oily as he pushes the 'end' button on the touchscreen and lays the phone back down on the desk.
The notification was one he'd started to ignore. Between Kurt Brady and Jason Ingalls, Jet had all but given up on Twitter. He'd noted Edie's good luck wishes, and pondered momentarily over Erika's panicked fretting, but mostly, The Wild Card had gone ghost on the social networking website.
But that was before James Spyder had decided to tag, for the first time, two entertainment professionals in his cryptic tweet.
Travis Pierce and Jet Somers.
That one tweet had told Jet plenty, nearly everything he wanted to know.
When he had watched the footage of Colin Zale carrying his would-be sister out of the MTS Center, the worst fear he had was that the monster had been carrying her back to his brood.
And now that fear was confirmed. Spyder had all but outright told the world, and Jet, that they had her, they being the two of them, and by extrapolation, Zane Scott. He had dared allow himself the briefest moment of belief that Colin was truly looking out for Eden's best interests out of a sense of real concern, and not as some part of a larger plot. Mores the fool.
He had rattled off a response, baiting Spyder, trying to fill in the gaps. As he glared at the screen in anticipation, only a few minutes went by before he got his satisfaction. Another tweet. Spyder saying the words Jet had expected.
They wanted him to understand.
Over the course of the last four days, he had come to understand far more than they would ever expect of him.
Since the announcement of the formation of the supergroup, the Puppet Masters had fooled all of them into thinking there was a giant chess game being laid, and PMN, DMW, and Moss Edwards had gone out of their way to cause as much disruption and rule breaking as possible.
Sitting here now, reading and rereading the second tweet from The Mountain, Jet casts his mind back to the aftermath of the Blindfold match. He had forced himself to see between the lines of what was said, and actually read the face value in the words. Nevermind the "Silverdome Slipup" that David "Hogan" Damarest had bungled by calling Dexter Vines by a play by play commentator's name. He finally saw what the Puppet Masters were doing, and after Cypress lost the game that he hadn't realized he was playing by their rules the entire time, Jet knew he wasn't going to play anymore.
The Blindfold, so to speak, had been removed.
Finally turning away from the laptop screen, Jet reaches across the table to pick up his Samsung. He thumbs through the contacts list, one so extensive and built from the hard labor of their information department, and lands on one of the six numbers listed for James Spyder. Selecting one at random, he presses the 'call' icon, and puts the cell to his ear.
It rings exactly three times before the voicemail picks up. No greeting, no information dump, just the cold and impersonal tone, followed by the silence he was supposed to fill with his message.
"No, I didn't expect you to answer," he speaks clearly and with resolve, no hesitation or apprehension in his voice whatsoever. "Someone like you cannot be reached that easily, even with the well paid staff I employ. I have no doubt, however, that this message will find it's way to you, and so there's no need to go to further lengths just to hear your condescension."
"At this point, Eden will have ended up in the last place on Earth I ever wanted her to be, and that is in your possession, surrounded by your ilk. Since I have ultimately realized that this is by and large due to my own failings, I gladly accept the blame for that. I'll spare you the internal turmoil this is causing me, as I doubt you'll buy a word of it."
"Since I know you'll eventually hear this recording, I only have a few things I want to say. First, for what it's worth, I'll appeal to your better natures and ask that we be given some assurance of her safety and well being. It did not escape our notice that Edie left No Holds Barred in a tragically broken state, and we are on pins and needles about how she has fared over the last half a week."
At this point, he has to struggle to keep a hitch out of his voice. He is truly and deeply concerned for Eden, but any sign of weakness will not afford the respect he needs from these men in order to gain the information he desparately has to have. Knowing the progression of her deteriorating mental state, or any possible recovery from it, is the first priority. Jet clears his throat and returns to his cold, professional tone.
"Secondly, a warning that I'm sure will fall on deaf ears, or at least be chuckled at when I express it. Decide for yourselves the wisdom of ignoring what I am about to say. Should you allow any harm to befall our beloved sister, the repercussions that follow will be dire."
"Simply for the sake of illustration, let me remind you that you have essentially kidnapped the object of affection of my brother, the man who most recently acquired a talisman which brings to life his more twisted and uncontrollable tendancies. The cage has once again been opened on the weapon that Travis Pierce keeps siloed for much of his air time, and if you are still pooh-poohing at that, let me remind you that his last foray into that dark mindset was compelling enough that your own protege saw fit to mimic one of his fits when he was pushed into poking the beast that is Phrixus Deimos."
Having warmed to his message, Jet prepares to deliver the final shot.
"Finally, let me assure you that your continual projection of the static predictability we've all come to expect from Elite Enterprises does not fit The Wild Card so well as you would like to believe when the three of you get all chummy. As of this point in the message, I'm sure you're calculating the steps you need to take in order to prepare for the gallant charge you envision me taking. Let me assure you that there is no need."
"The hardest lesson I've had to learn from all of this is that I have no right or justification in toying with the life of Eden Morgan more than she allows. If... and I strongly emphasize that if... the time comes in which Eden needs my rescue, she will find a way to let me know, and I will swiftly execute that rescue without hesitation, as I have done for her before, as I have done for my other sister before her."
At this point, the Opie grin which had almost become extinct, and had not been seen so far in this calender year, overtakes his visage.
"In the meantime, my girl can take care of herself. I won't have to remind you that I once dealt with the incarceration of Edie myself. You're in for a treat, old man. You're about to learn a hard lesson yourself, taught to you by someone you view as a broken doll needing the sharpest stitches and most caustic glue only you can provide. That lesson is this: Eden Morgan's mind may be broken, but her heart still beats soundly in there, and even if you have claimed possession of her, she will show you that PMN STILL OWNS YOU."
The last four words come out as a harsh whisper, a promise of things to come. His smile is almost oily as he pushes the 'end' button on the touchscreen and lays the phone back down on the desk.