Post by Killian King on Aug 8, 2015 12:49:17 GMT -5
Los Angeles, Ca
Within the confines of The Syndicate's base of operations, a topographic point also known as Bryson Towers, we find the reigning UGWC Bedlam Champion and first of his name, Killian King, strolling through an upper leveled floor of the building, surrounded by a maze of cubicles. The sleeves of his pitch dark shirt are unbuttoned and rolled up to his elbows, revealing his tattooed arms.
Alright
Yeah
Well now
His black tie remains tucked into place neatly inside his black vest, at war with the sleeves of his button-down. Killian walks alongside the man who most often handles his day-to-day affairs as his agent, assistant, and representative. 'Vain' addresses the gentleman as Killian's “manservant”, but his name is Richard Nottingham.
I must admit, I can't explain
Any of these thoughts racing through my brain
It's true
Baby, I'm howlin' for you
The overhead lighting glimmers off the reflective surface of a pair of aviator sunglasses, smugly still worn over his eyes even indoors. He walks with an arrogant stride, like the opening to a John Travolta movie as the smug bastard makes his way through the room.
Alright
Nottingham walks just a couple of steps behind, shaking his head as he keeps pace. His eyebrow arched in unison with the tip of his mustache as he trails behind the self-satisfied asshole who is his employer.
There's something wrong with this plot
The actors here, have not got a clue
Baby, I'm howlin' for you
From off to the side, an attractive young woman merges onto their path, a cup of steaming liquid waiting steadily in her hand. An overzealous smile plays across her lips as she almost begins to purr upon his passing. Killian grasps the lidded cup in his hand.
“Thanks love” Killian acknowledges her services as she gushes, almost falling over herself. Nottingham gives her a seeking look, the woman glancing at him and then immediately returning her gaze to Killian. Nottingham rolls his eyes.
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“Oh well then, by no means might I have been in the mood for a cup, a cup you could have easily gotten at the same time you were pouring his bloody thing..” Richard mutters under his breath as they continue on, the woman's demeanor changing when she catches the end of his words. He ignores her and glances at Killian.
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“Sometimes... you disgust me.” Richard announces.
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“I know...” Killian admits, a content look creeping over his face.
Mockingbird, can't you see?
Little girl's got a hold on me
Like glue
Baby, I'm howlin' for you
The duo round another corner to find another woman of sultry appearance who swoons at Killian's proximity to her own. A deeply-stained wooden box rests in her hands. She slowly opens said wood box as 'Her Majesty's Most Beloved Grappler' nears.
Yeah
“Your Friday selection... is a full-flavoured Assam, Ceylon and China green tea blend with a strong hint of blackberry with a natural sweetness.” She blushes lightly as Killian keeps eye contact with her while he leans down and begins to slowly waft the contents of the container toward his nose. His fingers trace along the rim of the opening, still maintaining eye contact and that wicked smile as his digits crawl into the box as if a skittering spider. Slowly Killian pulls out a metallic orb connected to a chain, that he slowly lowers into the contents of his hot cup.
Throw the ball to the stick
Swing and miss and a catcher's mitt
Strike two
Baby, I'm howlin' for you
“Well done, Abigail...” The mention of her name pulls her deeper into her own concupiscence. Killian gifts her with another light smile, smelling the aroma of his steeping tea. “That, my dear, is amazing... I could kiss you...” Killian pauses, pursing his lips as he considers, then turns away, walking off.
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Her breaths grow visibly heavy, evident in the swelling of her breasts as she watches him walk away. “I wouldn't stop you...” she calls after him, Killian acknowledging her words with a slight raise of his hand without turning back.
Her glossy hazel eyes fall to the visage of Richard Nottingham. “I'd have been content with a 'howdy-fucking-do Mr. Nottingham.” As Richard rolls his eyes and carries on in his barbed sarcastic tone, a chuckle escaping Killian, who walks ahead.
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“You laugh, but I have half a mind to tell them for all your pomp and circumstance here, the infuser you use at home is in the shape of the fucking Deathstar from Star Wars... complete with a little spaceship on the end of the chain!” Richard taunts Killian as they head toward his office.
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“Good mornin', love... if Reginald isn't about, have him call me. I want a segment on that comedy gold from the debate, last night,” Killian greets his secretary as he walks by her, making his way past the double door that leads to his office. She jumps up to acknowledge him but comes up short as he continues, however she catches Richard.
“Mr. King has a visitor waiting on him in the office,” she whispers hurriedly, alarmed that she missed being able to inform Killian himself.
A look as if searching for the fucks to give grows over Richard's face as he stares at her. “Who pray tell?” he inquires, receiving a blank stare in return.
“I didn't catch a name... but he said you were old friends, I think I've seen him with Ms. Morgan.”
A look of dread washes over Nottingham's face as her words echo in his mind. “Well fuck me running. Be prepared to call security, possibly a medic, and most definitely have a bottle of bloody scotch handy!”
Splinters of light slowly scratch away at the darkness of the room as they filter through the closed blinds and dance along the large ebony stained wooden desk of "The Crucible" Killian King as he enters the office. Killian brings light to the room as he flips the light switch in passing, but what he finds when the light touches the surfaces of his office leaves him silent. A nerve seems to pulse and radiate behind his eyes as his spine and shoulders stiffen.
Pulling back some of the tension and anger, he sighs heavily pressing his lips together to force out his breaths, finding himself worn and exhausted even before he can find the words to speak. Sitting in Killian's chair with his feet propped up upon his desk is none other than Eden Morgan's current pet, Charles”Hugh” McClellan.
“D'you know what I can't quite seem to wrap my head around?” Hugh asks aloud into the silence.
“Quantum Physics... and being stupid enough to waltz into this office.” Richards' voice is rough, grating, as he growls toward the man sitting in Killian's chair.
The three men look at one another, Richard however drawing the conclusion that his words perhaps fall on deaf ears, as he shrugs and shakes his head. Killian's right hand opens and closes repetitively, his eyes slowly slipping from the face of his associate back to their 'guest'.
“Oh, that smells delightful!” Hugh grins broadly, acknowledging Killian's tea with enthusiasm.
Killian shows little to no change as Richard steps quickly between the two. Nottingham pauses for a moment, perhaps apprehensive even as he looks toward the man seated across the desk from him, thankful for the massive piece of office furniture between the two.
“See... now that's just the reason I felt this meeting needed to be called into order,” Hugh states in somber tones as the smile fades from his face, waving a hand at Killian who has begun to pace back and forth in front of the desk.
“Clear off,” Killian bites out through gritted teeth.
“Well that's it, isn't it? I can't invite you out with that kind of hostility about!” Hugh responds with incredulity, shaking his head at Killian as if his statement should be obvious. Killian stares the intruder down as the man before him continues on, his gaze fixating on Hugh's eyes, staring directly into the windows of his soul.
“This thing between us... it's not favorable for my better half, you know... I mean Kill looks like he's about to snap at any moment, and I'm supposed to trust him with the responsibility of watching over that which I hold dear?” He focuses his words on Nottingham as he makes his case. As he finishes, he glances back to Killian, a Cheshire-like smile coursing over his lips as he watches the man standing before him.
“You don't give a shite about Eden Morgan...” Nottingham states venomously, interrupting the flow of prevarication dripping from Hugh's mouth.
“Now that's interesting, but tell me, what is that supposed to mean, Richard?” Hugh questions, expression contemplative as he leans back in Killian's chair.
“You couldn't care less about who she is, all that matters to you is what she means to me, and how you see yourself coming out on top of this,” Killian glances around the room as he emits a low growl in his voice, his eyes touching on different sights, searching perhaps for something blunt to bash his nemesis' head in. Nothing mattered but that nagging, wrenching, affliction that trudged around the back his head, and silencing it.
“Really now, old friend, the fact that you think I would stoop so low, that I'm that vile, it hurts. It wounds me, it truly does, though,” he pauses a moment, pressing an index finger to his lips before continuing. “I have to tell you, Kill, she's everything you'd have ever wanted. I know your type. She's aggressive and smart, oh she's a smart one. And a tiger in the sack mate, but there's just this little hint of vulnerability and fragility, it makes you either want to protect her or crush her. I haven't decided which yet. That, I'll cultivate. Oh...” Hugh cups his hands over his mouth lightly, as if just discovering something. “Oh... you two would have been perfect, a perfect match I'm telling you, Kill. She absolutely loves it when I put on that 'something dangerous lurking beneath' demeanor you do. Such a shame, really.”
Hugh uncups his hands to reveal a large smile.
“I mean essentially... I'm doing you a favor, y'know? I mean, if she gets off on me pretending to be you... imagine how well you two would work out? I'm like your stunt double... That's it! I'm your bloody stunt double! Oh, imagine if she just knew the real you, Kill,” he pauses again to consider. “But she doesn't, does she? A real fuckin' shame... She doesn't even see you, really. But she'll know soon enough... You just may not like the version I sell you as.”
Killian shoves the desk angrily, Hugh struggling as he tries getting to his feet.
“There are lines boy, that you don't cross. And you fucking tap danced over that one...” Richard intones, his eyes lighting up as he sees the crack in 'The Crucible's' demeanor. Hugh holds his hands up, bargaining.
“A-Alright, alright. I see we seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot a bit, but that's okay, we've just lost sight of each other a bit. D'you know what we need? We need to team build, we need to bond again, eh? The three amigos again--” he grins at the two of them, eyes never leaving Killian's angry countenance as he holds his hands up.“Come on lads, it could be like that time we went to Brussels. But I'm not going to another dominatrix, not again, not after last time...” Hugh jests while trying to slowly push the massive desk away from him to no avail.
Nottingham watches him with an unamused stare. “He thinks we need to talk, so... Killian, you start.” Notthingham touts, his eyes still laid on Hugh. Killian stares at Nottingham as if trying to ascertain if he's actually serious about this. Finally, he responds to Richard's insistent nodding.
“Alright then... Are you okay?”
Killian questions, his tone making it clear he is only doing so to appease Richard as he begins to pace back and forth once again, like a caged animal, voice gravelly.
“I've been better, and yourself?” Richard volleys the question back with a biting sarcasm.
“Likewise.” Killian responds.
“See? We should go out one night and just get hammered. Get this good and sorted, good for business and good for the soul, what do you fellas think?” Hugh smiles despite the danger he finds himself in, a telltale bead of sweat running beneath his dark hair down his temple.
“Yeah, that's a grand idea,” Killian states calmly, leaning forward and staring Hugh down. Hugh's jaw clenches.
“So is that to be it? Have you two gotten it out of your system, then?” he asks, managing to keep his voice steady and remain visibly calm under fire.
“What more is there to say?” Killian inquires, leaning up as he traces his fingers over the surface of his desk, running them sharply along the edges.
“Yeah, he's feeling a bit down, which is fairly understandable, I'm sure you'll agree, and I'm knackered myself, perhaps too much so to worry about preventing him from snapping. We don't need to turn this into a bloody fucking episode of Oprah, Charles,” Nottingham exclaims as he stares over the desk.
“Hugh,” their 'guest' corrects him, Richard waving him off.
“Exactly. File under 'Have Discussed'... Killian finishes, ignoring the dispute on names.
Killian releases his hold over the desk and moves to the far side of the room, putting as much distance between himself and Hugh as the room allows, a contemplative look on his face. Slowly, as if not trusting the move, Hugh squeezes from behind the desk and walks past hesitantly, an unnerving smile spreading across his lips.
“Well this went far better than I had expected, I'm positively ecstatic,” he mocks as he makes his way toward the door.
“Ecstatic? Don't be fucking ridiculous. It's like when they dress up those bears and make them dance for the tourists in Istanbul. Have you ever seen that?” Richard whispers abruptly as he takes Hugh by the arm and escorts him out.
“No, I can't say I have,” Hugh responds with a warning growl, yanking his arm away. Richard stands before him, unaffected.
“This great big mountain of power and fury, done up in a bloody fez and a fucking waistcoat, and all the time just waiting for it to wake up, realize what it is and tear someone's throat out.” Nottingham supplies in a warning tone as he pushes him out the door and stands in it.
“Did you ever actually see it happen?” Hugh asks, turning about.
“Yeah, yeah, I did. Horrific. I mean I've got photos if you want.... but you'll watch it first hand if that man decides to stop playing house and breaks loose. As a matter of fact, you may want to just come on 'round the ring on Synergy, during their match. He already hates that KvK fellow and Larry's like one of those bait dogs that they use in dog fighting... know it? No? See they use a smaller, more defenseless dog, and they throw it in the pit with the larger fighting dog... won't last long, but just enough to get the bigger dogs good and pissed off... blood thirsty, you see,” Richard stops in the doorway, pausing for a moment as he watches Hugh. Hugh gives him a knowing smirk and turns away, leaving Nottingham muttering to himself. He closes the door to the office, turning back to see Killian.
King shakes his head as he sits in his chair, his mood foul enough already, before looking at his cup.
“...Fuck, now my tea's cold.”
Nottingham shakes his head. “I'm sure we could get one of those delightful young women to fetch another--”
Richard cuts off as Killian leaps to his feet, snatching the cup off the table and hurling it at the wall, porcelain shards and cold tea flying about the room. Richard stares at the spot on the wall where the cup had crashed and looks back to the man standing before him, his shoulders heaving with strain his heavy breathing and almost low, guttural growls filling the room.
Richard gives a low whistle and a shake of his head.
“That boy has no idea what he's done.”
Scene goes black.