Post by Declan Prescott on Jun 29, 2010 20:04:01 GMT -5
Their eyes locked and the entire universe, beyond the grasp of his arms, vanished into blackness. Douglas Maguire and Declan Prescott standing so close, yet worlds separated them. Cara Costello turned her gaze to the man. Declan heard her gasp and felt her entire body clench like a fist. She pressed her nails into his back, clinging to him as tightly as she could.
"It's not a problem, is it?" the detective inquired. "Just a few quick questions. Your girlfriend seems to be getting awfully defensive..."
"Maybe she just doesn't approve of stranger's who don't take the time to introduce themselves to her?" Declan replied, false confidence filling his words.
"You're absolutely right, where are my manners?" Maguire responded, extending his hand. Cara nervously slipped hers into the enemy's clutch. "I'm very pleased to meet you Miss Costello. Although I am afraid I'm going to have to ask you to step out of the room. I was hoping to speak to your lovely partner here, on his own."
Cara shot a glance to Declan, who kissed her on her milky forehead reassuringly.
"It's okay," he said, as she returned to her trembling feet. "I won't be long."
Cara's teeth were clenched and Declan could see the tears already forming. He smiled kindly, before Cara darted one final look at the smug detective and exited the room. She closed the office door behind her and Maguire promptly locked it. Declan's eyes narrowed with distain at this action.
"Privacy," the lawman said. "You know how women are?"
Declan only sneered, as the detective strutted back towards the desk and took a seat opposite Declan's. With an extension of his arm, he beckoned the GIW owner to sit opposite him. The Significant Player begrudgingly complied and sat in the black, cushioned seat he had missed for so long.
"You don't mind if I smoke?" the detective said, after he had already taken the first drag on his cigarette.
"Actually I do."
"I've already lit it," the lawman responded, unable to contain his enormous smile. "You wouldn't want such a fine product to go to waste, would you? I find wasteful people truly selfish."
"As do I," Declan responded bluntly, staring at the burning cigarette, causing the detective to chuckle in amusement.
"I need to ask you, Mr. Prescott," the obnoxious being stated, huffing on his cancer stick. "June 15th of this year, a Sunday night, where were you?"
"I would have been at home," Declan answered, showing no hint of emotion. "That was a while ago, so I can't really remember exact details."
"I suppose you can't," Maguire mused. "Which makes it mighty convenient that you returned to this little wrestling promotion so long after that date. I tried calling your home and cell phones and even stopped by your apartment a few times. I never got any response. I wonder why that is?"
"My voice mail is real spotty. Guess you just got unlucky on the apartment front. I was sleeping a lot while recovering from my injuries," Declan retorted, a smile edging into his lips as he finished.
"Well let me ask you this," the detective added, seemingly growing slightly agitated. "Was Cara Costello with you the entire evening?"
"I don't think so," Declan responded, rubbing his temple either side, as if struggling to remember. He soon stopped and focused solely on the man opposite him. "She was running GIW at the time, so she would have devoted at least some of the day to that."
"And night?"
"Probably. I wish I could be more helpful with this. If only you had been able to contact me earlier."
"Yes," Maguire conceded, becoming increasingly annoyed. "But perhaps you can help me. Do you remember what time Cara Costello happened to arrive back at your apartment?"
"Jeez," Declan responded, slowly shaking his head. "No, I really didn't pay it much attention. I know she came home though, if that helps."
"Between the GIW arena, the company's HQ building and your apartment here," Maguire began, his eyes cold and his lips sharper than a dagger. "Is there anywhere else she could have gone?"
"Well jeez," Declan mocked. "There's a whole planet out there she could have visited. Maybe she went shopping, visited a friend - her and East, one of our referees, are very close - or maybe she had a quick game of laser tag. She could have gone anywhere. After all, you know how women are."
Maguire slammed his fist on the desk and rose to his feet. He leaned over the wooden structure and pressed his cigarette out on the surface of it. Declan snickered, as the lawman edged his face only centimetres from Declan's.
"You know what Sunday night is to a crazy person?" the detective hissed. "Nothing at all. Y'see, regular folk like you and I, we know that on Monday morning our career waits for us. We get to bed early, to face the oncoming week. But these crazies, they don't care about anything like that. They wander around Sunday night, like it was any other night. They don't care about having a well paying job and they know they have fuck all chance at a future. So they just stroll about, like Sunday was any other day. Time don't mean shit to them."
"That's fascinating," Declan mocked. "Now my life has meaning!"
"Let me finish, you little smart ass!" Maguire spat, becoming more and more hostile with each syllable. "So while all us decent, honest to God, hard working people get some rest in our homes, the crazies are out there. Murdering, stealing, raping, abducting. They go unopposed on a Sunday. Now it may interest you to know that one of these crazy folk appeared in the parking lot of the GIW HQ. A convicted rapist. Was in prison for 14 years. They found him in the morning with his throat slit clean from ear-to-ear. Now Mr. Prescott, I need to know what happened to this man. So, giving your best estimate, what time did Miss Costello arrive home on June 15th?!"
"You have it all wrong," Declan mused, an enormous grin devouring his face. "I don't believe in God."
"And I'm sure he doesn't buy into this wrestling bullshit!" Maguire spluttered, shaking his head uncontrollably. "Now tell me what time she got home!"
"GIW isn't staged," Declan corrected, as calmly as ever. "Everything you see is quite real. Some people have a hard time believing that with the crazy shit that happens, but I can assure you tha - "
"TELL ME, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!!!" Maguire roared, violently grabbing hold of Declan's coat collar.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
Both men completely froze, before Declan cast his gaze at his jacket pocket.
"That's my phone," he stated, matter-of-factly.
Maguire growled dangerously and released his grip. He began violently pacing up and down the room, as Declan pulled the device from his pocket. He examined the screen briefly and then slipped it back to it's resting place, smiling confidently as he did so.
"Nine o'clock," he said, causing Maguire to stop dead in his tracks and turn his head nastily to The Significant Player.
"Our forensic experts had the time of death pegged at eleven thirty," he whispered, with danger in his voice."
"Couldn't have been Cara, then," Declan smiled.
"Oh," Maguire replied, smiling even more broadly than Declan. "I never said I thought Miss Costello actually committed the murder. I wonder why you would jump straight to that conclusion?"
Declan's smile vanished for the briefest moment, which caused Maguire's to expand even more. He nodded and made his way to the door. He unlocked the wooden frame, pulled it open and spoke, before stepping through the threshold.
"The security tapes were missing," he said. "The security personnel said the tapes were in place, when they left at the end of the business day. Only administrative level staff have access to that room after hours. Do you think that's interesting?"
"Interesting is one word for it," Declan Prescott said, sitting on a bench in the GIW cafeteria.
Cara Costello had planted her posterior firmly on his lap and was kissing him gently on the neck. Brandon McSkinny and Obese Tony, meanwhile, were slapping together their latest meal idea - gruel cake.
"Teaming with Hastings will certainly be 'interesting'," Declan continued. "But we don't have to worry. Once he's aware that GD means nothing to us, he'll see that helping me is his best - no, his only - option."
"But he's mad," Cara whispered. "He's been getting screwed over for weeks."
"By Global Domination," Declan added. "I've never wronged Donovan Hastings. And any doubts he has will instantly evaporate, when he sees Savage murdered by that deranged clown at In Your Hands."
"What if he doesn't?"
"He will."
"He won't."
"He may not have a choice."
The door to Declan Prescott's office clicked shut behind Cara Costello. On the other side of that strip of wood, two men were battling for her fate. Declan knew. At the very least he suspected. And that pig detective would be confirming that suspicion with every word he spoke. Declan hated murderers. He thought they were the most vile form of life on the planet. But he still believed even they should live. She could remember him saying a million times over, "once you start deciding who should and shouldn't live, you become what you despise." There was every possibility in the world he would simply surrender her to the vile detective.
"It was self defence."
"Declan might not care."
"You honestly think he would rather another man violate your body against your will, than having you take the life of that disgusting piece of garbage?! You're an idiot, Cara Costello!"
Cara knew she was an idiot. But that only worsened her worries. Declan was so smart. Always thinking four steps ahead. Why would he go out of his way to protect a dopey, used up fuck doll like her?
"Why can't you ever just be happy?"
"I want to be..."
"He has only ever betrayed you once."
"That's once more than he promised..."
A single tear rolled down her cheek. She tried her best to shake the horrifying images of darkness and steel from her brain, before bustling down the hallway. She abruptly turned a corner and hit an inflatable doll that went flying into the nearest wall upon impact. Cara stared blankly at Brandon McSkinny, who was laid out in a crumpled heap on the floor before her.
"H... HI CARA!!!!" he screamed, sweat pouring out of his body. "I WAS JUST... JUST... UM... YOU LIKE ICE CREAM?!"
"Wha..."
McSkinny begin insincerely, shrilly laughing, before clambering to his knees and crawling as fast as he could away from Cara. She felt her heart grow heavy with guilt. Skinny didn't deserve what she had done to him that night.
"He was following you. All the way from the promo room."
"That doesn't mean anything..."
"What if he's the reason the cop is here?! What if McSkinny tipped him off?!"
Cara knew what had to be done, if she was right. Even if the thought did make her want to vomit her entire being out, there was no choice. There was never any choice. Not from the start. Cara Costello had been a fool! Brandon McSkinny had to be silenced!
She took a step forward, already knowing Skinny was headed to the kitchen. He would go there to meet Obese Tony - the only one who had ever cared about the worthless scum. It was perfect. The kitchen, where death, blood and steel were all common things. She would follow McSkinny. The stalker would become the prey, as she watched him. Waiting for the exact moment where he could be erased. Dumped into a dark corner, where no one would ever find what he used to be.
She took a step forward, but instantly felt a hand on her shoulder. Her teeth bared, she spun on the spot, ready for a fight. A familiar, yet unwelcome, figure stared back at her.
"Is a king a servant or a ruler? And if the latter, can he ever truly be corrupt?"
"What about a queen?!" she spat.
Andy Savana shrugged casually, before speaking, "there aren't any queens around here I want to take down."
"Well thanks," she replied insincerely. "Now leave me the fuck alone!"
She spun on the spot and proceeded to march down the hallway, before Savana's words froze her dead in her tracks.
"There's a detective here."
"I know," she responded, her tone quiet, but incredibly dangerous.
"Asked me about our little encounter," Savana continued. "In the parking lot, of course. I told him I ran into you at eight thirty. I don't know why. I don't even like you."
Her body froze. Droplets of ice cold sweat rolling over every inch of her body. Her jaw was hanging open and her eyes were bulging so largely, they threatened to pop out of her skull. Surely he couldn't be serious! Why would he help her?! They both knew damn well they had run into each other well past eleven o'clock. What if he was lying? What if he had told the detective the actual time they encountered each other? If she contradicted Savana's story, it'd be all but admitting her guilt. It was a total gamble. To trust this deranged freak, who openly admitted to wanting to destroy her beloved, or not.
"The truth will be just as incriminating as a lie. Nothing to gain, everything to lose."
She hesitantly removed her cell phone from her electric pink handbag. By this time Savana was gone. He had vanished just as quickly as he had appeared. She began typing on the keys, before sending the SMS message to Declan. If the cop saw it, their life was over. But Declan wouldn't let that happen. She knew in her heart he would do anything to protect her. He wouldn't just do anything, he would do everything. Everything he could. That's what he said at least.
"That's what you said about Komosube," Cara Costello said, scratching Declan Prescott affectionately on the neck, as she sat on his lap.
"No," Declan responded. "This is different. There was always a good chance Komosube would react how he did. It simply delays my return to the Global Heavyweight Championship. It isn't a concern. I knew that from the start, it was likely Komosube would betray us. I didn't tell you that, because I knew it would concern you. And I know you have enough to worry about right now. But with Donovan, I know he'l - "
"DECLEEEEEEEEEN!!!!"
I screamed out so loudly, I blasted myself off my feet and fell ass first on the tiled kitchen floor. I didn't even mean to say anything! It was a reflex action, but how could I help myself?! He had just openly admitted to knowing what Cara had done! She'd kill him! Or if she didn't, whatever the hell was inside her most certainly would! How could he be so careless?! He's The Significant Player! He's the man who always has a plan! And here he was throwing his life by the wayside, as if it meant nothing to him! That woman had him wrapped around her little finger and he was so blinded by love and hormones, he was completely clueless!
Both Declan and Cara were staring at me now. Declan's eyes were narrowed in annoyance. I wished to God I could tell him! Cara was wide eyed, with concern. My eyes met those large, glowing green orbs of death for only a moment and I lost all control of my body. My muscles went limp and I lay sprawled across the floor, unable to even think about moving.
I felt Obese's enormous arms hook under my shoulders. Before I knew it, I was back up, leaning on my good friend for support. Support I knew he couldn't give me.
"What do you want, Skinny?!" Declan hissed, clearly agitated by my intrusion.
"NOTHEENG, DECLEEN!!" I blurted out with the all the grace of a punch to the janglies. "JUST... JUST... I GOT A BATTLE ROYAL THIS WEEK!!! SKINNY GON' BE MAN CHAMP!!!"
Declan rolled his eyes and turned back to Cara, kissing her sheepish forehead. I may have made a complete fool of myself, but the heat was off me. Declan just thought I was being a self-absorbed douche and Cara was giggling with so much delight at her boyfriend's advances, that I seemed to be the last thing on her mind. I was probably the only man in the entire world who actually wanted to be out of Cara's thoughts!
"Brandon," Obese whispered to me. "I know something's up with you. You've been spending as much time around Declan as you possibly can, ever since he came back. Hell, you spy on him in the bathroom! Not like that's totally uncommon for you, but I'm getting freaked out all the same! Tell me what's up!"
I opened my mouth to respond, but Obese was already gorging himself on the gruel cake. That guy was as consistent as Savage's career. But I had bigger problems. The gruel cake was the only reason Declan was even here! Now that it was gone, before we were even able to add the gruel, he'd bail on us! I couldn't leave him alone with her! Especially not now! It might have been the last time I ever saw!
"I knew this was a dumb idea," Declan said, predictably. "Waiting around to see Skinny's gruel cake? How'd I even get talked into that?! Come on sweetie, let's go home."
Declan shot me a nasty look, as he and Cara headed for the exit. I desperately lunged at him, but tripped halfway there and fell face first into the floor. Luckily my glasses were built solid for that very reason or else I would have ended up with glass splintering into my face. But I would have taken that damage, if I had just been able to reach Declan. I wailed after him, begging him not to leave, but he was already out of the cafeteria and heading for the parking lot. I had no idea if I'd be able to lay my eyes on the greatest wrestler of all time ever again!
"Please, Declan. Please be okay..."
"It's not a problem, is it?" the detective inquired. "Just a few quick questions. Your girlfriend seems to be getting awfully defensive..."
"Maybe she just doesn't approve of stranger's who don't take the time to introduce themselves to her?" Declan replied, false confidence filling his words.
"You're absolutely right, where are my manners?" Maguire responded, extending his hand. Cara nervously slipped hers into the enemy's clutch. "I'm very pleased to meet you Miss Costello. Although I am afraid I'm going to have to ask you to step out of the room. I was hoping to speak to your lovely partner here, on his own."
Cara shot a glance to Declan, who kissed her on her milky forehead reassuringly.
"It's okay," he said, as she returned to her trembling feet. "I won't be long."
Cara's teeth were clenched and Declan could see the tears already forming. He smiled kindly, before Cara darted one final look at the smug detective and exited the room. She closed the office door behind her and Maguire promptly locked it. Declan's eyes narrowed with distain at this action.
"Privacy," the lawman said. "You know how women are?"
Declan only sneered, as the detective strutted back towards the desk and took a seat opposite Declan's. With an extension of his arm, he beckoned the GIW owner to sit opposite him. The Significant Player begrudgingly complied and sat in the black, cushioned seat he had missed for so long.
"You don't mind if I smoke?" the detective said, after he had already taken the first drag on his cigarette.
"Actually I do."
"I've already lit it," the lawman responded, unable to contain his enormous smile. "You wouldn't want such a fine product to go to waste, would you? I find wasteful people truly selfish."
"As do I," Declan responded bluntly, staring at the burning cigarette, causing the detective to chuckle in amusement.
"I need to ask you, Mr. Prescott," the obnoxious being stated, huffing on his cancer stick. "June 15th of this year, a Sunday night, where were you?"
"I would have been at home," Declan answered, showing no hint of emotion. "That was a while ago, so I can't really remember exact details."
"I suppose you can't," Maguire mused. "Which makes it mighty convenient that you returned to this little wrestling promotion so long after that date. I tried calling your home and cell phones and even stopped by your apartment a few times. I never got any response. I wonder why that is?"
"My voice mail is real spotty. Guess you just got unlucky on the apartment front. I was sleeping a lot while recovering from my injuries," Declan retorted, a smile edging into his lips as he finished.
"Well let me ask you this," the detective added, seemingly growing slightly agitated. "Was Cara Costello with you the entire evening?"
"I don't think so," Declan responded, rubbing his temple either side, as if struggling to remember. He soon stopped and focused solely on the man opposite him. "She was running GIW at the time, so she would have devoted at least some of the day to that."
"And night?"
"Probably. I wish I could be more helpful with this. If only you had been able to contact me earlier."
"Yes," Maguire conceded, becoming increasingly annoyed. "But perhaps you can help me. Do you remember what time Cara Costello happened to arrive back at your apartment?"
"Jeez," Declan responded, slowly shaking his head. "No, I really didn't pay it much attention. I know she came home though, if that helps."
"Between the GIW arena, the company's HQ building and your apartment here," Maguire began, his eyes cold and his lips sharper than a dagger. "Is there anywhere else she could have gone?"
"Well jeez," Declan mocked. "There's a whole planet out there she could have visited. Maybe she went shopping, visited a friend - her and East, one of our referees, are very close - or maybe she had a quick game of laser tag. She could have gone anywhere. After all, you know how women are."
Maguire slammed his fist on the desk and rose to his feet. He leaned over the wooden structure and pressed his cigarette out on the surface of it. Declan snickered, as the lawman edged his face only centimetres from Declan's.
"You know what Sunday night is to a crazy person?" the detective hissed. "Nothing at all. Y'see, regular folk like you and I, we know that on Monday morning our career waits for us. We get to bed early, to face the oncoming week. But these crazies, they don't care about anything like that. They wander around Sunday night, like it was any other night. They don't care about having a well paying job and they know they have fuck all chance at a future. So they just stroll about, like Sunday was any other day. Time don't mean shit to them."
"That's fascinating," Declan mocked. "Now my life has meaning!"
"Let me finish, you little smart ass!" Maguire spat, becoming more and more hostile with each syllable. "So while all us decent, honest to God, hard working people get some rest in our homes, the crazies are out there. Murdering, stealing, raping, abducting. They go unopposed on a Sunday. Now it may interest you to know that one of these crazy folk appeared in the parking lot of the GIW HQ. A convicted rapist. Was in prison for 14 years. They found him in the morning with his throat slit clean from ear-to-ear. Now Mr. Prescott, I need to know what happened to this man. So, giving your best estimate, what time did Miss Costello arrive home on June 15th?!"
"You have it all wrong," Declan mused, an enormous grin devouring his face. "I don't believe in God."
"And I'm sure he doesn't buy into this wrestling bullshit!" Maguire spluttered, shaking his head uncontrollably. "Now tell me what time she got home!"
"GIW isn't staged," Declan corrected, as calmly as ever. "Everything you see is quite real. Some people have a hard time believing that with the crazy shit that happens, but I can assure you tha - "
"TELL ME, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!!!" Maguire roared, violently grabbing hold of Declan's coat collar.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
Both men completely froze, before Declan cast his gaze at his jacket pocket.
"That's my phone," he stated, matter-of-factly.
Maguire growled dangerously and released his grip. He began violently pacing up and down the room, as Declan pulled the device from his pocket. He examined the screen briefly and then slipped it back to it's resting place, smiling confidently as he did so.
"Nine o'clock," he said, causing Maguire to stop dead in his tracks and turn his head nastily to The Significant Player.
"Our forensic experts had the time of death pegged at eleven thirty," he whispered, with danger in his voice."
"Couldn't have been Cara, then," Declan smiled.
"Oh," Maguire replied, smiling even more broadly than Declan. "I never said I thought Miss Costello actually committed the murder. I wonder why you would jump straight to that conclusion?"
Declan's smile vanished for the briefest moment, which caused Maguire's to expand even more. He nodded and made his way to the door. He unlocked the wooden frame, pulled it open and spoke, before stepping through the threshold.
"The security tapes were missing," he said. "The security personnel said the tapes were in place, when they left at the end of the business day. Only administrative level staff have access to that room after hours. Do you think that's interesting?"
"Interesting is one word for it," Declan Prescott said, sitting on a bench in the GIW cafeteria.
Cara Costello had planted her posterior firmly on his lap and was kissing him gently on the neck. Brandon McSkinny and Obese Tony, meanwhile, were slapping together their latest meal idea - gruel cake.
"Teaming with Hastings will certainly be 'interesting'," Declan continued. "But we don't have to worry. Once he's aware that GD means nothing to us, he'll see that helping me is his best - no, his only - option."
"But he's mad," Cara whispered. "He's been getting screwed over for weeks."
"By Global Domination," Declan added. "I've never wronged Donovan Hastings. And any doubts he has will instantly evaporate, when he sees Savage murdered by that deranged clown at In Your Hands."
"What if he doesn't?"
"He will."
"He won't."
"He may not have a choice."
The door to Declan Prescott's office clicked shut behind Cara Costello. On the other side of that strip of wood, two men were battling for her fate. Declan knew. At the very least he suspected. And that pig detective would be confirming that suspicion with every word he spoke. Declan hated murderers. He thought they were the most vile form of life on the planet. But he still believed even they should live. She could remember him saying a million times over, "once you start deciding who should and shouldn't live, you become what you despise." There was every possibility in the world he would simply surrender her to the vile detective.
"It was self defence."
"Declan might not care."
"You honestly think he would rather another man violate your body against your will, than having you take the life of that disgusting piece of garbage?! You're an idiot, Cara Costello!"
Cara knew she was an idiot. But that only worsened her worries. Declan was so smart. Always thinking four steps ahead. Why would he go out of his way to protect a dopey, used up fuck doll like her?
"Why can't you ever just be happy?"
"I want to be..."
"He has only ever betrayed you once."
"That's once more than he promised..."
A single tear rolled down her cheek. She tried her best to shake the horrifying images of darkness and steel from her brain, before bustling down the hallway. She abruptly turned a corner and hit an inflatable doll that went flying into the nearest wall upon impact. Cara stared blankly at Brandon McSkinny, who was laid out in a crumpled heap on the floor before her.
"H... HI CARA!!!!" he screamed, sweat pouring out of his body. "I WAS JUST... JUST... UM... YOU LIKE ICE CREAM?!"
"Wha..."
McSkinny begin insincerely, shrilly laughing, before clambering to his knees and crawling as fast as he could away from Cara. She felt her heart grow heavy with guilt. Skinny didn't deserve what she had done to him that night.
"He was following you. All the way from the promo room."
"That doesn't mean anything..."
"What if he's the reason the cop is here?! What if McSkinny tipped him off?!"
Cara knew what had to be done, if she was right. Even if the thought did make her want to vomit her entire being out, there was no choice. There was never any choice. Not from the start. Cara Costello had been a fool! Brandon McSkinny had to be silenced!
She took a step forward, already knowing Skinny was headed to the kitchen. He would go there to meet Obese Tony - the only one who had ever cared about the worthless scum. It was perfect. The kitchen, where death, blood and steel were all common things. She would follow McSkinny. The stalker would become the prey, as she watched him. Waiting for the exact moment where he could be erased. Dumped into a dark corner, where no one would ever find what he used to be.
She took a step forward, but instantly felt a hand on her shoulder. Her teeth bared, she spun on the spot, ready for a fight. A familiar, yet unwelcome, figure stared back at her.
"Is a king a servant or a ruler? And if the latter, can he ever truly be corrupt?"
"What about a queen?!" she spat.
Andy Savana shrugged casually, before speaking, "there aren't any queens around here I want to take down."
"Well thanks," she replied insincerely. "Now leave me the fuck alone!"
She spun on the spot and proceeded to march down the hallway, before Savana's words froze her dead in her tracks.
"There's a detective here."
"I know," she responded, her tone quiet, but incredibly dangerous.
"Asked me about our little encounter," Savana continued. "In the parking lot, of course. I told him I ran into you at eight thirty. I don't know why. I don't even like you."
Her body froze. Droplets of ice cold sweat rolling over every inch of her body. Her jaw was hanging open and her eyes were bulging so largely, they threatened to pop out of her skull. Surely he couldn't be serious! Why would he help her?! They both knew damn well they had run into each other well past eleven o'clock. What if he was lying? What if he had told the detective the actual time they encountered each other? If she contradicted Savana's story, it'd be all but admitting her guilt. It was a total gamble. To trust this deranged freak, who openly admitted to wanting to destroy her beloved, or not.
"The truth will be just as incriminating as a lie. Nothing to gain, everything to lose."
She hesitantly removed her cell phone from her electric pink handbag. By this time Savana was gone. He had vanished just as quickly as he had appeared. She began typing on the keys, before sending the SMS message to Declan. If the cop saw it, their life was over. But Declan wouldn't let that happen. She knew in her heart he would do anything to protect her. He wouldn't just do anything, he would do everything. Everything he could. That's what he said at least.
"That's what you said about Komosube," Cara Costello said, scratching Declan Prescott affectionately on the neck, as she sat on his lap.
"No," Declan responded. "This is different. There was always a good chance Komosube would react how he did. It simply delays my return to the Global Heavyweight Championship. It isn't a concern. I knew that from the start, it was likely Komosube would betray us. I didn't tell you that, because I knew it would concern you. And I know you have enough to worry about right now. But with Donovan, I know he'l - "
"DECLEEEEEEEEEN!!!!"
I screamed out so loudly, I blasted myself off my feet and fell ass first on the tiled kitchen floor. I didn't even mean to say anything! It was a reflex action, but how could I help myself?! He had just openly admitted to knowing what Cara had done! She'd kill him! Or if she didn't, whatever the hell was inside her most certainly would! How could he be so careless?! He's The Significant Player! He's the man who always has a plan! And here he was throwing his life by the wayside, as if it meant nothing to him! That woman had him wrapped around her little finger and he was so blinded by love and hormones, he was completely clueless!
Both Declan and Cara were staring at me now. Declan's eyes were narrowed in annoyance. I wished to God I could tell him! Cara was wide eyed, with concern. My eyes met those large, glowing green orbs of death for only a moment and I lost all control of my body. My muscles went limp and I lay sprawled across the floor, unable to even think about moving.
I felt Obese's enormous arms hook under my shoulders. Before I knew it, I was back up, leaning on my good friend for support. Support I knew he couldn't give me.
"What do you want, Skinny?!" Declan hissed, clearly agitated by my intrusion.
"NOTHEENG, DECLEEN!!" I blurted out with the all the grace of a punch to the janglies. "JUST... JUST... I GOT A BATTLE ROYAL THIS WEEK!!! SKINNY GON' BE MAN CHAMP!!!"
Declan rolled his eyes and turned back to Cara, kissing her sheepish forehead. I may have made a complete fool of myself, but the heat was off me. Declan just thought I was being a self-absorbed douche and Cara was giggling with so much delight at her boyfriend's advances, that I seemed to be the last thing on her mind. I was probably the only man in the entire world who actually wanted to be out of Cara's thoughts!
"Brandon," Obese whispered to me. "I know something's up with you. You've been spending as much time around Declan as you possibly can, ever since he came back. Hell, you spy on him in the bathroom! Not like that's totally uncommon for you, but I'm getting freaked out all the same! Tell me what's up!"
I opened my mouth to respond, but Obese was already gorging himself on the gruel cake. That guy was as consistent as Savage's career. But I had bigger problems. The gruel cake was the only reason Declan was even here! Now that it was gone, before we were even able to add the gruel, he'd bail on us! I couldn't leave him alone with her! Especially not now! It might have been the last time I ever saw!
"I knew this was a dumb idea," Declan said, predictably. "Waiting around to see Skinny's gruel cake? How'd I even get talked into that?! Come on sweetie, let's go home."
Declan shot me a nasty look, as he and Cara headed for the exit. I desperately lunged at him, but tripped halfway there and fell face first into the floor. Luckily my glasses were built solid for that very reason or else I would have ended up with glass splintering into my face. But I would have taken that damage, if I had just been able to reach Declan. I wailed after him, begging him not to leave, but he was already out of the cafeteria and heading for the parking lot. I had no idea if I'd be able to lay my eyes on the greatest wrestler of all time ever again!
"Please, Declan. Please be okay..."
