Post by Zane on Aug 19, 2017 19:22:26 GMT -5
Eminence Front
Part 1: The Faulty Model
The sun shines
And people forget
The spray flies as the speedboat glides
And people forget
Forget they're hiding
The girls smile
And people forget
The snow packs as the skier tracks
People forget
Forget they're hiding
And people forget
The spray flies as the speedboat glides
And people forget
Forget they're hiding
The girls smile
And people forget
The snow packs as the skier tracks
People forget
Forget they're hiding
“Why don’t they understand that I don’t care if they love me or not?” Zane says as he drapes one of his massive and tattooed arms across the shoulders of “Gabby”.
He turns his head and looks at with a genuinely quizzical expression at the made up mannequin. He lifts up his hand and slowly runs the back of it along her face. He sighs a disingenuous sigh and runs his fingers up the side of her face, gently brushing her left cheek with his finger nails. He leans his forehead against her temple and his arm moves slightly out of the camera’s view.
“It should seem evident my dear that you’re not worthy of the honor of carrying the World Championship.” He says in an eerily quiet tone. “Not only were you inserted into this hollow little drama when it first began for no other reason than that you’re a woman.”
He smiles and slowly raises his head, inhaling through his nose and “sniffing” her hair as he lifts it and then rests his chin on the top.
“That’s the only reason and everyone knows it.” He says with the same chilling calmness.
His arm suddenly and violently jerks out of sight before it suddenly swing up and outwards before it drops back to his side. The catch an ever so slight glimpse or reflection of light as it does before it quickly disappears. A few seconds later the quiet sound of distant impact is heard off camera. Zane smiles at the sound of it but never takes his eyes off of “Gabby’.
“You showed how little the World Championship meant to you right after Wrestlestock...”
He shakes his head in disgust and then rests his chin on the top of her head again.
“Your silence spoke volumes.” He spits in disgust.
His expression darkens into an angry and contemptuous sneer. He yanks his arm backwards from across her shoulder and grabs her roughly by the chin and pulls her forward so that they’re eye to eye. It’s obvious from the close in view that her face is in less than ideal condition, including dents and deep scratches, nicks and gouges.
“Since then you’ve been given opportunity after opportunity and time and time again you’ve blown it.” He says. “I carried you through our match against Baal and Lucy and you blew it and lost. If you’d never tagged yourself in, we wouldn’t have lost.”
He pauses and squeezes her chin harder, causing a succession of cracking sounds.
“It was your weakness and the failure that is caused is entirely yours.
His arm jerks again and after a few seconds he smiles again as the same clinking noise echoes in the distance.
“You’re nothing.” He sneers.
He abruptly smiles and laughs a slow, deliberate and callous laugh.
“You could have made such a statement on August seventh by beating me in our one on one match.”
He chuckles again.
“Instead the history books will show exactly what I’ve said you to be all along.”
His hand snaps down and constricts around her throat with a loud cracking sound. Her chin is cracked and warped where his fingers had been.
“All flash.” He says with a chilling smile.
He squeezes until a part of her neck cracks off in his hand. He pulls it back and slowly relaxes his fist which cause a slow particulate stream to drop from inside his fist to the floor. He looks down and watches it with a satisfied smile as it creates a small pile at his feet. He stares at it transfixed until it stops, after which he looks back up and smiles at the hole that’s he’s created in her neck.
“No substance.” He says bluntly. “You’re an unworthy fraud and you’d be an embarrassment to the World Championship.”
He thinks of something and coldly laughs.
“Look at the bright side though, Gabby.” He says with a shrug.
He drops the hand that had held the remains of Gabby’s throat in it.
“At least I gave you a new hole to make money from.”
He leans forward and plants a long and slow kiss on her mouth. He pulls away and pats her gently on the cheek. Without warning his expression twists into one of pure and unmasked hatred. His right hand moves until it’s over her face. Once it gets there he constricts it as hard as he can until it begins to snap and pop under the pressure. After a few seconds under the unyielding pressure of his hand it finally shatters and comes apart all over the floor. Zane watches this with a satisfied smile until it ceases, at which point the dark expression reasserts himself and he makes a silent and violent motion with his left arm.
Behind an eminence front
Eminence front, it's a put on
It's an eminence front
It's an eminence front, it's a put on
An eminence front
Eminence front, it's a put on
Eminence front
It's an eminence front
It's an eminence front, it's a put on
It's a put on, it's a put on, it's a put on
Eminence front, it's a put on
It's an eminence front
It's an eminence front, it's a put on
An eminence front
Eminence front, it's a put on
Eminence front
It's an eminence front
It's an eminence front, it's a put on
It's a put on, it's a put on, it's a put on
He steps back and admires his handiwork for a few seconds, then he turns and walks from the room without another word. The view pulls back to reveal a large, shiny blade jutting out from her lower anatomy.
Come and join the party
Dress to kill
Won't you come and join the party
Dress to kill, dress to kill
Dress to kill
Won't you come and join the party
Dress to kill, dress to kill
Part 2: Doctor Klaw
Larry stands head down with a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other. He looks up long enough to wait for one of the pairings of workers with him to nod their approval that the items on the trucks coincide with the ones on their manifests as they stream into the gate that he’s standing next to. Every few vehicles the manifest draws a curious raised eyebrow, but as there are so many vehicles entering the fenced in area he doesn’t ask, he just shrugs and checks it off. He looks up and frowns as a bank of rapidly darkening gray clouds slowly rolls by overhead.
“That’s no good.” He says. “I hope they have enough storage sheds for everything.”
“They do.” Zane’s voice says from behind.
“EEEK!!” Larry shrieks, throws the clipboard up and leaps into the air in surprise.
The clipboard clatters to the ground although the manifests on in miraculously stay in place. Larry drops to his knees on the ground and then pops back up and wheels on Zane with his hand over his heart and an upset scowl on his face. Zane replies to Larry with a crooked grin as he kneels down and picks the clipboard up.
“Don’t DO that!” He screeches shrilly as he angrily stomps his right foot on the ground in a small cloud of dust.
Zane acknowledges Larry’s quasi-assertive response with mild bemusement and then laughs to himself.
“It’s hardly intimidating when you do that.” He says with a smile.
Larry sticks his tongue out in response and frowns again.
“You startled me!” He squeaks. “What is it with guys like you and Hastings and finding amusement at the expense of your friends?”
Zane angles his head ever so slightly before he straightens it again.
“We’re assholes like that.” He replies with a shrug. “Besides, if he’s going to talk about me like I’m some kind of super villain, the least I can do is act a bit like it.”
Larry’s face crinkles up in doubt as he considers the answer.
“You wrestlers are weird.” He replies with a shake of his head.
Zane laughs again.
“It comes from a lifetime of getting hit in the head.” He replies with a sideways grin.
The two men pauses as another large truck pulls up to the gate. Larry steps forward, reaches up and takes a paper from the driver. He clips it to his board, looks at it and then looks across the truck and nods at the two men on the other side. The thinner, darker haired man nods once and gestures towards the back of it with his head to his partner. The other man, who is slightly shorter but a bit broader at the shoulders nods and follows his partner to the back of the vehicle.
“I don’t get what all of this is for.” Larry says as he walks and stands back at Zane’s side.
Zane watches as the men check the contents of the truck against the manifest. After a few moments the dark haired man nods once. Zane nods in reply and then nods to Larry, who raises his left arm and gives the driver a “thumbs up” in the rear view mirror. The man replies with one of his own out the window and the truck rumbles forward and continues its route. Larry looks at Zane quizzically.
“I don’t get what’s going on with you, Hastings and the pretty lady.” He says.
A brief sneer flashes across Zane’s face at the words “pretty lady” but it quickly disappears. Zane takes a breath and replies while he looks inside at the activity inside the fenced in area.
“The ‘pretty lady’ is irrelevant.” He answers. “She was a waste to include from the get go and she’s more than proven it. If she somehow wins the vote, it just proves how stupid a majority of wrestling fans are.”
Larry frowns at his response but doesn’t ask a follow up. He pauses as another truck rolls up and walks up to the drivers compartment. The same process as the previous truck repeats and a couple of minutes later the truck rolls through the gate and into the work area. Larry walks back over to Zane and looks back up at him.
“What about Hastings?” He asks. “You two have an interesting history.”
“We have a violent history.” Zane replies.
Larry responds with a raised eyebrow.
“You have a violent history with a lot of people there.” He replies. “What makes him different?”
Zane’s eyes narrow.
“He’s in my way.” He growls.
Larry’s mouth opens and closes without saying anything. Zane rolls his eyes and smiles.
“It’s very simple, Larry.” He replies. “Two and a half years ago the World Championship was stolen from me. Not long after that my ACL and MCL were torn at the hands of Killian. Every day since my Championship was stolen from me and handed to possibly the most unworthy World Champion that this company has ever seen I’ve focused on one thing.”
Zane flexes and relaxes his fists at his sides a few times and takes a breath, which seems to relax him. He takes one more breath and looks at Larry.
“Getting my World Championship back.” He states flatly.
Larry mulls over Zane’s response.
“You haven’t seemed to care about that.” He replies with a confused head scratch.
Zane looks down at him.
“I never stopped caring about it.” He replies. “I just learned how to focus my thoughts and emotions about it and use them to help instead of hinder me. Back when it was stolen from me I let my emotions control me. Over time I learned to control them.”
Larry nods.
“Is that why you love wrestling again?” He asks. “Is that why you want the World Championship back?”
Zane nods.
“Yes.” He answers. “Deep down I never lost my love of wrestling, it had just been smothered and temporarily buried under layers of self-hatred, rage and self-doubt. I saw the World Championship as being the only thing that gave me value as a man and as a wrestler.”
He pauses and takes another breath.
“It’s amazing what kind of clarity you can find when you’re forced to.” He continues. “I understand that I’m a loathsome, violent, self-centered and evil man. I have few, if any redeeming qualities.”
Larry’s eyebrows narrow in thought.
“What does that have to do with the World Championship?” He asks.
Zane pauses as another truck rolls up. The process from earlier repeats itself and Larry returns to his side.
“You were saying?” He asks.
Zane takes another breath and looks at his assistant.
“The World Championship came to epitomize everything that I hated about myself.” He replies. “Now when I reclaim it, it’ll represent everything that I’ve accepted about myself.”
He pauses for a moment.
“I can finally give it the World Champion that it deserves.”
Larry puts his left hand to his chin.
“Why can’t that Champion be Hastings?” He asks.
Zane grunts in reply.
“Hastings has held the World Championship four times and he still doesn’t get how valuable it is.” He explains. “To Hastings the World Championship is a thing. It’s a bauble that makes him feel important. For a man who’s as obsessed with his legacy as Hastings is, the Championship has no more intrinsic value than how much more important and great it makes him look to others and make him feel about himself.”
Zane stops and takes a breath.
“I get Hastings a lot more than a lot people, including Hastings, think that I do.” He replies. “Under a different set of circumstances, he and I could accomplish a lot.”
“But not now.” Larry says with a tone of finality in his voice.
“No.” Zane replies. “Now he’s just collateral damage.”
The two men pause as another truck rumbles up to the gate. Larry walks up and accepts the manifest from the driver. He scans the list and goes to make a check mark next to its spot on the list when his eyes suddenly widen. He turns and looks at Zane with a look of pure joy on his face.
“An ice cream machine?” Larry asks with a giddy smile.
Zane nods his head and chuckles.
“Yes.” He replies. “An ice cream machine.”
Larry’s face lights up as if it’s the greatest moment ever and he turns to hug Zane but stops as Zane raises an eyebrow at him, which causes Larry to stop short. Zane rolls his eyes and then looks back at his assistant, who looks back at him expectantly.
“We’re going to have an ice cream machine?” He asks excitedly.
Zane shakes his head.
“Yes.” He replies. “It doesn’t make much sense for that to be delivered for it to just sit there.”
Larry raises his eyebrows thoughtfully, as if he’s not certain if he’s being patronized or not. Zane stands in silence and watches the trucks as they continue to enter and drive into the construction area. Larry stands in silence as he ruminates over his boss’s intentions. After a few seconds he shrugs to himself and resumes checking things off of his list.
The situation remains like this for a few minutes. Then Larry’s face suddenly lights up and he spins around and grabs Zane by the arm. Zane responds by looking down with a curious raise of his left eyebrow.
“Can we go for ice cream?” Larry asks in a voice so high that you’d think a child was asking the question.
Zane stands stone face and silent for a moment before he finally shrugs and smiles.
“Sure.” He replies.
Larry’s face begins to drop in disappointment.
“Ok...” The “k” trails off slowly as the “yes” slowly registers in his head. Once it finally clicks, his head snaps up as he fixes his eyes and flashes a wide and a gigantic goofy smile envelops his face.
“Yippie skippy!!!” Larry exclaims as he leaps up and down as he enthusiastically claps his hands in excitement. Zane watches him with a raised eyebrow for a few seconds before he puts his hand over his face and shakes his head.
“Sometimes I worry about you, Larry.”
Come on join the party
Dress to
Come on join the party
Dress to
Come on join the party
Dress to
Come on join the party
Dress to kill
Dress to
Come on join the party
Dress to
Come on join the party
Dress to
Come on join the party
Dress to kill
Part 3: His Eminence
The three men sit at the table in silence as the world moves around them as if it’s on an out of control treadmill. All three are well dressed and clearly utterly self-assured. The largest of the three men sits at least a full head above the other two and has shoulders like a mountain range and a neck like a tungsten rod. His dark hair is close cropped to his head and his body language is relaxed but not without signs of previous torment. The man to his right is slender but clearly in excellent shape beneath his well-tailored black suit. His body language is relaxed, but it screams menace. The third man also exudes power and this image is reinforced by the full head of neatly groomed silver hair that covers his head and the exquisite matching suit and white collared shirt.
The view swings around to reveal the three men to be Robert Markham the man formally known as the “Greater Evil”, Dirge. His face and general comportment are far neater than the last time he’d been seen on a UGWC camera, as his dark beard is neatly trimmed to his face and the well-known look of confidence, which some would call smugness, rests on his face. To his right sits his ever present right hand, David Damarest. Damarest looks the same as he did the last time we’d seen him, with his face clean shaven as his cold, gray eyes constantly take in his environment and calculate what he can glean, negotiate or intimidate his way into getting.
The third man is John Ein. He looks as calm and relaxed as he always does, although there’s something behind his eyes that’s hard to read. It’s clear that both Dirge and Damarest have noticed it, although there’s no way to know if they’ve discussed it. He sits silently with his hand gently resting on the base of his glass. He taps his fingers on the glass and looks at the two men who sit across from him.
“So, gentlemen...” He says. “We have a mutual problem.”
A slow, chilling smirk spreads across Damarest’s face and Dirge simply nods his head.
“No, Mr. Ein...” Damarest replies. “You have a problem.”
Dirge looks at Damarest and holds up a hand.
“That’s enough, David.” He says quietly. “John was polite enough to inform us of Grevane’s recent disappearance. He didn’t need to do that.”
Damarest nods his head and looks at John.
“My apologies, John.” He replies. “That was impolite of me.”
John declines his head and waves dismissively.
“Think nothing of it.” He answers. “Mr. Grevane has the displeasing effect of bringing out the worst in all of us.”
Damarest shakes his head once and gestures to one of the nearby waitresses. A young redhead walks over to the table and looks at him.
“Yes, Mr. Damarest?” She asks. “What can I do for you, sir?”
Damarest looks up at her with the smile that can display numerous emotions depending on his motivation. In this case it’s showing calmness and pleasure.
“Melinda, dear, anything Mr. Ein wants is on the house tonight.”
Melinda nods her head and smiles.
“Yes sir.” She replies.
“Thank you, my dear.” He answers. “Please let the rest of the staff know and if any of them have any questions, tell them to come to me. I’ll be happy to help them.”
“I will.” She replies. “Thank you.”
She turns and walks away from the table to fulfill her instructions, after which he turns and faces the other two men at the table. Dirge levels his dark eyes on John.
“So Mr. Grevane disappeared a couple of weeks ago.” He says in a calm tone. “He’s long been a thorn that I should have exorcised. It is one of my few regrets that I didn’t let David, Erik and Zane deal with him when the opportunity presented itself.”
He pauses for a moment as a brief twitch appears in the corner of his right eye. He blinks twice and once it stops he looks at John again.
“Speaking of young Mr. Scott, I see that he has a chance to face Gabriel Baal for the World Championship if he jumps through one of UGWC’s numerous hoops and wins one of their interminable popularity contests.” He says with a slight tone of contempt.
Damarest chuckles in response to his friend’s irritable comment and looks at him. John does the same.
“Robert has never liked some of the theatrics that UGWC is so very fond of.” He explains. “I was never fond of some of those practices when I was Creative Director, but a few of them were ratings monsters. Robert understands the value of playing marks for money, so while he might grouse about it, he understands the value of it.”
“I still hate it.” Dirge growls.
Damarest looks at Dirge and rolls his eyes.
“Settle down, Robert.” He says. “This isn’t about you. It’s about Zane and Grevane.”
Dirge shakes angrily but doesn’t reply. He just picks his glass up and takes a drink from it. He swallows it, closes his eyes and takes a breath. He sits silently with his eyes closed for a few moments before he lowers his head and opens them again. His expression and body language have noticeably relaxed.
“I’m sorry.” He says. “I still have occasional bouts of anger thanks to…he occasionally rears his head.”
Both men shake their heads.
“It’s alright, Robert.” John replies. “To answer your query about Zane, yes. If he wins the vote he could face Gabriel Baal for the World Championship. He has to beat two people who I’m sure you know. Gabrielle Montgomery and Donovan Hastings.”
Dirge’s eyes momentarily flash with an icy disdain at the mention of Montgomery, but they cool and he smiles at the mention of Hastings.
“Yes.” He answers. “Good ol’ Donnie. I see that little has changed with him.”
John shakes his head and smiles.
“Not much.” He replies. “Hastings is Hastings. I can’t help but appreciate the fact that both you and your student have run afoul of UGWC’s resident King Lear.”
Dirge and Damarest laugh, almost in unison at John’s comparison. John smiles.
“It seems as if Zane has inherited the quixotic relationship with Hastings that you did.” John continues. “This time it’s more coincidence due to Management than any sort of intent on the part of either man. Hastings isn’t the one who concerns me.”
Dirge raises a quizzical eyebrow.
“Baal?” He asks. “The ‘Dr. Phil’ of UGWC?”
John shakes his head.
“Yes.” He answers. “Baal and Zane have what can best be described as a quixotic relationship. It’s a weird mixture of acrimony, hostility and begrudging respect. It’s a relationship that could easily burgeon into full blown hatred and yet while it looked as if Zane was heading in that direction at one point, I’m not seeing that now.”
Dirge picks up his glass and takes a drink while Damarest sits silently and drums his fingers together. Dirge puts his glass down and looks at John.
“What changed?” He inquires.
“Zane did.” John replies with a shrug. “It’s as if someone flipped a switch in his head one day. He went from hostile, jealous and hateful towards Baal to oddly respecting him. There’s something more than that too, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
Dirge runs his hand over his dark beard while Damarest drops his arms and rests them on top of each other on the table. Dirge is the first to reply.
“Describe it.” He asks.
John shakes his head and pauses for a moment as he collects his thoughts.
“I can best describe it as if Zane has had some sort of…revelation, or perhaps reached some sort of understanding about the Doctor and that revelation, whatever it is, has reset something inside of him. I’ve never seen Zane this calm before ne
Dirge shrugs.
“Everyone changes over time.” He replies.
John shakes his head in denial and waves his hand.
“Not like this.” He continues. “This isn’t the Zane we’ve always known. I honestly find his calmness to be a bit disconcerting. I always thought that I’d be happy when Zane found some kind of calmness in that sea of rage and hatred that he’s always been engulfed in.”
“But not now.” Damarest answers calmly. “What about it bothers you?”
John looks down at his glass and sits silently for a few moments. Damarest watches him with his cold, calculating eyes while Dirge leans back in his chair and folds his arms behind his head. John continues his explanation without looking up.
“For the first time since I’ve known Zane he’s calm, he’s controlled and he seems happy.” He continues. “I should be happy for him but instead I find something extremely unnerving about it. I don’t know if you’ve seen his recent promos against Miss Montgomery...”
Both men nod their heads “no”.
“They’re...disturbing.” He states flatly. “If not borderline psychotic.”
“It could be simple psychology.” Dirge replies. “He’s smarter than a lot of people give him credit for.”
John waves a dismissive hand.
“Maybe.” He replies. “But it felt more sinister than that. I can’t tell if it’s because he genuinely hates Gabrielle, if he was just trying to get into her head or if the man who calls himself “Doctor” Baal unlocked something in Zane that he doesn’t know was there. Whatever it is, I think that Zane sees beating Baal and reclaiming the World Championship as conquering something more than just an adversary.”
Damarest looks at him quizzically.
“And that would be?” He inquires.
John looks at him and Dirge. His face is pale and his eyes have a slight look of fear in them.
“Himself.”
The three men sit in silence as the world continues to move around them.
Dress yourself, dressed to kill