Post by Declan Prescott on Jun 29, 2010 20:17:27 GMT -5
The room was pitch black. It would have seemed like an expansive void of nothingness, if not for the overpowering smell of gin. Suddenly, a blue light in the form of a square, began to dimly illuminate the space. Old newspapers and empty liquor bottles littered the stained carpet. Douglas Maguire, in nothing but boxer shorts so old, one could almost see the stench lines emanating from them, placed a disc in a tray below the blue light. He walked to his mouldy, leather couch and slumped down in it, groaning loudly as he did so. He took a swig of an almost empty bottle of brown liquid, before the television screen turned from blue to a familiar picture. The face of Maguire's most hated rival - Declan Prescott.
The DVD had been sent from Prescott. While doubtful, there was a slim chance this disc would contain his betrayal. His admittance that Cara Costello was nothing, but a butcher of human beings. He had finally seen the light and turned on the evil doer. That would make this break from the hunt in finding Selena's attacker all worth it. Maguire suddenly chuckled. That would never happen. In honesty, Maguire had absolutely no clue what the disc contained. But he knew Prescott would not have sent it to him lightly.
"Well howdy there Dougy," Prescott shouted, while his face filled the television screen. The sun shone brightly on him, his eyes were covered by large, black shades, his smile was so broad it threatened to devour his entire face and, by the way his face was bumbling all over the screen, he was most definitely piss drunk. "You recognise me, right?"
"Yeah," Maguire spat, seemingly unaware the television couldn't hear him.
"Now, you're probably a li'l confused, as to why I'd send this little shindig to ya," the slime continued spewing. "Ya see, we're in Vegas right now. Preparing for In Your Hands - yeah yours Dougy - it's a tough job, but as I always say, the best has to do it. Oh fuck, I said 'we' didn't I? Yeah, yeah, got the whole posse here, my man!"
Prescott took several steps back from the lens, so his entire frame from the elbows down was in shot. Maguire could see a building behind the worm, but not enough to reveal what - or where - it was. He extended his left arm off camera and soon pulled it back in, with Costello's hand in his grip. She too, was smiling, giggling and decked out in overly large black shades. Prescott wrapped his left arm around her, tickling her lightly on the stomach with his right.
"This is Cara," he said, returning his attention back to the camera. "Of course, you already knew that. But that's not all, dude! I have something else to show you and I just - I just had to tell you right away. Or maybe show you? Fuck yeah, check this one out, dawg!"
Prescott raised his left hand, with Costello doing the same. They both pushed their hands only inches away from the camera and Maguire nearly threw up at the sight. On the same finger of both hands, each wore a white golden ring. They were both exactly the same, although Costello's was thinner - simple, with no decorations or patterns. The pair removed their hands, as Prescott again stuffed his face into ever corner of the television screen.
"Ya see?!" he bellowed into the living room. "We finally tied the knot, Dougy! Well actually, it was kind of a spur of the moment thing, to be honest. All the lights, the pretty colours, the sounds and the booze! Fuck me, the booze! It overwhelms the senses, Dougy! But hell, we're in the city of love, after all. That's what they call it, right? Oh, none of it matters anyway! I just needed to spread the good news! I'm just so, so happy right now! We're gonna be together forever, Dougy. Forever!"
The screen died to blackness. In response, Maguire erupted with howling rage and sent the nearly empty bottle shattering into the wall and splattering the carpet with glass and alcohol. Maguire leapt to his feet, cursing and crying to the heavens. He kicked the couch over, sending it rolling across the room and into the kitchen.
That piece of shit had won this battle! It was the perfect offensive manoeuvre! He wasn't intoxicated. Maguire would never believe that. For someone who prided himself so much on his intelligence, Declan Prescott wouldn't be caught in public in such a state. No, his mind was clear and his actions focused. This was no 'spur of the moment' decision. Saying as much was just insulting. He had even thought of the glasses! Those ridiculous glasses! The eyes - the only windows able to reveal that Prescott was lying. The curtains pulled shut by those damned glasses! Maguire had never expected Prescott to go this far with his assault, but now that he had, there was only one thing to do.
Maguire began to chuckle and clap. He sat himself down on the floor, nodding in defeat.
"Spousal privilege," he said. "An exceptional move, Prescott. One that caught me off guard. But you should know that the game isn't over just yet."
Cara Costello stood, leaning slightly forward over the balcony barrier, doing her best to refrain her posterior from sticking out, as the breeze whipped her golden hair around her face and the sun's golden, desert rays beamed down upon her. She stared at the city far below and sighed with defeat. Very soon, two lean, chiselled arms wrapped around her frame, as Declan Prescott rested his head on her shoulder from behind. She shuffled her buttocks, uncomfortable with how close Declan's crotch was to her, which caused him to release an inquisitive 'hmmm'.
"I thought you'd be happy," he said, removing himself from her personal space, resting his hands in his jean pockets and leaning his rear end against the barrier.
"This wasn't how I pictured my wedding," she responded, bluntly.
"How did you picture it?"
Cara opened her mouth to speak, but realised she had no answer. She quickly shut it and turned away, as if she was above answering such a question. Declan chuckled hollowly, before sighing with the same defeated tone Cara had used only moments ago.
"You said 'yes'," he pointed out, his words filled with hurt.
Cara didn't open her mouth this time, already knowing she had nothing to say.
"I did it to protect you," he said. "It was the only way."
"I know that," she snapped. "And that's what makes it hurt so much. You're supposed to marry me because you love me!"
Declan smirked to himself, seemingly very amused. "And why do you think I'd go to such measures to protect you?"
Cara gasped, feeling her heart freeze up for the briefest of moments. She lost her footing and fell, ass first to the balcony floor. Declan extended his hand, which Cara accepted. He pulled her back to her feet and she placed her hands on his shoulders in return. She stared into his pale blue eyes and they seemed to speak to her. Telling her of the warmth he had given her - and the wonders he was yet to show her.
"I just... it's just that... I didn't... I... you know... umm... I just didn't expect my honeymoon... to be like this."
"Vegas, sex, dinner for two, alcohol and hot tubs?" Declan replied, rubbing his fingers along her stomach. "What did you expect?"
"You're... distant," she answered.
"There's work to be done," Declan replied, with a shrug of his shoulders.
"That doesn't make it okay."
"I know," Declan said, kissing her on the forehead. "And as soon as In Your Hands is over, it'll be just the two of - "
"No!" Cara protested, clenching her fists and pushing them into Declan's chest. "Forget GIW! I shouldn't have to share you with anyone on our honeymoon!"
"Hastings would be pretty upset if we no-showed. Just be patient, sweetie. A couple more days, than I'm all yours."
"Hmph!" Cara squeaked, wrapping her arms around Declan's chest. "Guess I don't any choice."
That stupid bitch. Wrapping her arms around his chest and rubbing that silky hair on his body, as if she were a little angel. It was more likely she had killed an angel and taken its skin as a disguise!
I was inside the casino on the opposite side of the strip to most of the GIW wrestlers. Performing surveillance on my hero, Declan Prescott, and that wench he had been idiotic enough to take as a wife, Cara Costello! I had been staring through these binoculars all day, everyday since we had arrived in this wretched city. The stuff I could see was limited. That strumpet claimed to be 'pretty shy' when it came to her body. As a result, all I saw were red curtains whenever the pair were banging each other.
I had been staring at a lot of red curtains that week.
But it had to be done. This was as close as Declan would allow me to get, so I didn't have any choice. Ironically enough, he had asked Tony and I to be their witnesses at the ceremony!
Standing in the very back row of the 'chapel'. Some dodgy casino wannabe standing before Declan, who was sporting a slick tuxedo, while the degenerate murderer was covered in an elegant, lacy white dress.
"I do."
"I do."
What a fucking joke?
Without warning, the door was kicked in. I screamed at the top of my lungs and spun around, figuring the police were onto me under stalking charges. Truth be told, I wasn't that far off. There was definitely a stalker in my room, but it wasn't me. Jason Reeves was staring me down, mic in hand, cameraman behind him, both sweating profusely. Reeves sighed with disappointment when he saw me.
"I was told a GIW star was holding up in this place," he said to his accomplice, as if I wasn't even there. "So I make my way past all those security guards and all I find is McSkinny?! Ah well, when in Rome..."
Reeves turned to me, smiling broadly, while the cameraman muttered something about 'team effort'. I rolled my eyes at Jason's pitifully insincere attempt.
"Skinny, my main man!" he bellowed, with enthusiasm he didn't have. "Good to see you, dude! Seeing as Barney and I have come all this way, how's about treating Jason to a li'l some'n-some'n?"
I mockingly bellowed back at him, something about only working the night shift. He seemed to turn green when I said this. Stupid git probably thought I was serious.
"So," he mumbled, turning to the camera. "I'm here with... well, with Skinny, the man hoping be crowned Man Champ this Saturday... whatever the fuck that means. Skinny, if you win the voting, how do you plan to defeat reigning Champion, Misery?!"
I just spewed out the same old thing. That even though Misery was stronger, meaner, more experienced (in more ways than one!) and had Global Domination backing her, that there's one thing I have that would guarantee me victory - heart. People could say whatever they want about Brandon McSkinny, but no one had more guts than I. I got my ass handed to me week in and week out and every time I came back, ready to fight another day. That's why Skinny was going to win at In Your Hands for testicles all over the planet! MAN POWER! Yeah, that's what I said.
"I see," was all the bald headed interviewer could muster in response. I guess I did go a little over-the-top. "So urgh... who do you think is most likely to win the vote?"
I told Jason that Brandon McSkinny was certain to win the vote and the match. Of course, nothing could have been further from the truth. I figured the hottest of the bunch would win the voting and that sure as hell wasn't me. In fact, after my little experience last week, I thought the world would come to a crashing halt if Gabrielle didn't win.
"Well Skinny, what's your opinion on the current state of the economy - "
I cut Jason short, telling him he had to leave. I had to get back to watching Declan's back! Jason seemed pretty insistent on staying, until I told him some bull story about 'getting my groove on'. After that, he was out of there like a rapper after a pregnancy test. Yeah, burn. I turned back to the window and took up the binoculars.
"Fuck."
All I could see were red curtains.
The DVD had been sent from Prescott. While doubtful, there was a slim chance this disc would contain his betrayal. His admittance that Cara Costello was nothing, but a butcher of human beings. He had finally seen the light and turned on the evil doer. That would make this break from the hunt in finding Selena's attacker all worth it. Maguire suddenly chuckled. That would never happen. In honesty, Maguire had absolutely no clue what the disc contained. But he knew Prescott would not have sent it to him lightly.
"Well howdy there Dougy," Prescott shouted, while his face filled the television screen. The sun shone brightly on him, his eyes were covered by large, black shades, his smile was so broad it threatened to devour his entire face and, by the way his face was bumbling all over the screen, he was most definitely piss drunk. "You recognise me, right?"
"Yeah," Maguire spat, seemingly unaware the television couldn't hear him.
"Now, you're probably a li'l confused, as to why I'd send this little shindig to ya," the slime continued spewing. "Ya see, we're in Vegas right now. Preparing for In Your Hands - yeah yours Dougy - it's a tough job, but as I always say, the best has to do it. Oh fuck, I said 'we' didn't I? Yeah, yeah, got the whole posse here, my man!"
Prescott took several steps back from the lens, so his entire frame from the elbows down was in shot. Maguire could see a building behind the worm, but not enough to reveal what - or where - it was. He extended his left arm off camera and soon pulled it back in, with Costello's hand in his grip. She too, was smiling, giggling and decked out in overly large black shades. Prescott wrapped his left arm around her, tickling her lightly on the stomach with his right.
"This is Cara," he said, returning his attention back to the camera. "Of course, you already knew that. But that's not all, dude! I have something else to show you and I just - I just had to tell you right away. Or maybe show you? Fuck yeah, check this one out, dawg!"
Prescott raised his left hand, with Costello doing the same. They both pushed their hands only inches away from the camera and Maguire nearly threw up at the sight. On the same finger of both hands, each wore a white golden ring. They were both exactly the same, although Costello's was thinner - simple, with no decorations or patterns. The pair removed their hands, as Prescott again stuffed his face into ever corner of the television screen.
"Ya see?!" he bellowed into the living room. "We finally tied the knot, Dougy! Well actually, it was kind of a spur of the moment thing, to be honest. All the lights, the pretty colours, the sounds and the booze! Fuck me, the booze! It overwhelms the senses, Dougy! But hell, we're in the city of love, after all. That's what they call it, right? Oh, none of it matters anyway! I just needed to spread the good news! I'm just so, so happy right now! We're gonna be together forever, Dougy. Forever!"
The screen died to blackness. In response, Maguire erupted with howling rage and sent the nearly empty bottle shattering into the wall and splattering the carpet with glass and alcohol. Maguire leapt to his feet, cursing and crying to the heavens. He kicked the couch over, sending it rolling across the room and into the kitchen.
That piece of shit had won this battle! It was the perfect offensive manoeuvre! He wasn't intoxicated. Maguire would never believe that. For someone who prided himself so much on his intelligence, Declan Prescott wouldn't be caught in public in such a state. No, his mind was clear and his actions focused. This was no 'spur of the moment' decision. Saying as much was just insulting. He had even thought of the glasses! Those ridiculous glasses! The eyes - the only windows able to reveal that Prescott was lying. The curtains pulled shut by those damned glasses! Maguire had never expected Prescott to go this far with his assault, but now that he had, there was only one thing to do.
Maguire began to chuckle and clap. He sat himself down on the floor, nodding in defeat.
"Spousal privilege," he said. "An exceptional move, Prescott. One that caught me off guard. But you should know that the game isn't over just yet."
* * * * *
Cara Costello stood, leaning slightly forward over the balcony barrier, doing her best to refrain her posterior from sticking out, as the breeze whipped her golden hair around her face and the sun's golden, desert rays beamed down upon her. She stared at the city far below and sighed with defeat. Very soon, two lean, chiselled arms wrapped around her frame, as Declan Prescott rested his head on her shoulder from behind. She shuffled her buttocks, uncomfortable with how close Declan's crotch was to her, which caused him to release an inquisitive 'hmmm'.
"I thought you'd be happy," he said, removing himself from her personal space, resting his hands in his jean pockets and leaning his rear end against the barrier.
"This wasn't how I pictured my wedding," she responded, bluntly.
"How did you picture it?"
Cara opened her mouth to speak, but realised she had no answer. She quickly shut it and turned away, as if she was above answering such a question. Declan chuckled hollowly, before sighing with the same defeated tone Cara had used only moments ago.
"You said 'yes'," he pointed out, his words filled with hurt.
Cara didn't open her mouth this time, already knowing she had nothing to say.
"I did it to protect you," he said. "It was the only way."
"I know that," she snapped. "And that's what makes it hurt so much. You're supposed to marry me because you love me!"
Declan smirked to himself, seemingly very amused. "And why do you think I'd go to such measures to protect you?"
Cara gasped, feeling her heart freeze up for the briefest of moments. She lost her footing and fell, ass first to the balcony floor. Declan extended his hand, which Cara accepted. He pulled her back to her feet and she placed her hands on his shoulders in return. She stared into his pale blue eyes and they seemed to speak to her. Telling her of the warmth he had given her - and the wonders he was yet to show her.
"I just... it's just that... I didn't... I... you know... umm... I just didn't expect my honeymoon... to be like this."
"Vegas, sex, dinner for two, alcohol and hot tubs?" Declan replied, rubbing his fingers along her stomach. "What did you expect?"
"You're... distant," she answered.
"There's work to be done," Declan replied, with a shrug of his shoulders.
"That doesn't make it okay."
"I know," Declan said, kissing her on the forehead. "And as soon as In Your Hands is over, it'll be just the two of - "
"No!" Cara protested, clenching her fists and pushing them into Declan's chest. "Forget GIW! I shouldn't have to share you with anyone on our honeymoon!"
"Hastings would be pretty upset if we no-showed. Just be patient, sweetie. A couple more days, than I'm all yours."
"Hmph!" Cara squeaked, wrapping her arms around Declan's chest. "Guess I don't any choice."
* * * * *
That stupid bitch. Wrapping her arms around his chest and rubbing that silky hair on his body, as if she were a little angel. It was more likely she had killed an angel and taken its skin as a disguise!
I was inside the casino on the opposite side of the strip to most of the GIW wrestlers. Performing surveillance on my hero, Declan Prescott, and that wench he had been idiotic enough to take as a wife, Cara Costello! I had been staring through these binoculars all day, everyday since we had arrived in this wretched city. The stuff I could see was limited. That strumpet claimed to be 'pretty shy' when it came to her body. As a result, all I saw were red curtains whenever the pair were banging each other.
I had been staring at a lot of red curtains that week.
But it had to be done. This was as close as Declan would allow me to get, so I didn't have any choice. Ironically enough, he had asked Tony and I to be their witnesses at the ceremony!
Standing in the very back row of the 'chapel'. Some dodgy casino wannabe standing before Declan, who was sporting a slick tuxedo, while the degenerate murderer was covered in an elegant, lacy white dress.
"I do."
"I do."
What a fucking joke?
Without warning, the door was kicked in. I screamed at the top of my lungs and spun around, figuring the police were onto me under stalking charges. Truth be told, I wasn't that far off. There was definitely a stalker in my room, but it wasn't me. Jason Reeves was staring me down, mic in hand, cameraman behind him, both sweating profusely. Reeves sighed with disappointment when he saw me.
"I was told a GIW star was holding up in this place," he said to his accomplice, as if I wasn't even there. "So I make my way past all those security guards and all I find is McSkinny?! Ah well, when in Rome..."
Reeves turned to me, smiling broadly, while the cameraman muttered something about 'team effort'. I rolled my eyes at Jason's pitifully insincere attempt.
"Skinny, my main man!" he bellowed, with enthusiasm he didn't have. "Good to see you, dude! Seeing as Barney and I have come all this way, how's about treating Jason to a li'l some'n-some'n?"
I mockingly bellowed back at him, something about only working the night shift. He seemed to turn green when I said this. Stupid git probably thought I was serious.
"So," he mumbled, turning to the camera. "I'm here with... well, with Skinny, the man hoping be crowned Man Champ this Saturday... whatever the fuck that means. Skinny, if you win the voting, how do you plan to defeat reigning Champion, Misery?!"
I just spewed out the same old thing. That even though Misery was stronger, meaner, more experienced (in more ways than one!) and had Global Domination backing her, that there's one thing I have that would guarantee me victory - heart. People could say whatever they want about Brandon McSkinny, but no one had more guts than I. I got my ass handed to me week in and week out and every time I came back, ready to fight another day. That's why Skinny was going to win at In Your Hands for testicles all over the planet! MAN POWER! Yeah, that's what I said.
"I see," was all the bald headed interviewer could muster in response. I guess I did go a little over-the-top. "So urgh... who do you think is most likely to win the vote?"
I told Jason that Brandon McSkinny was certain to win the vote and the match. Of course, nothing could have been further from the truth. I figured the hottest of the bunch would win the voting and that sure as hell wasn't me. In fact, after my little experience last week, I thought the world would come to a crashing halt if Gabrielle didn't win.
"Well Skinny, what's your opinion on the current state of the economy - "
I cut Jason short, telling him he had to leave. I had to get back to watching Declan's back! Jason seemed pretty insistent on staying, until I told him some bull story about 'getting my groove on'. After that, he was out of there like a rapper after a pregnancy test. Yeah, burn. I turned back to the window and took up the binoculars.
"Fuck."
All I could see were red curtains.
