Post by cooltubesource on Nov 5, 2018 15:44:44 GMT -5
Presenting the Lacklan Saga Story of:
Ascension, Part V
The Blood Princess Bride
~~Monday, January 23rd, 2017: OFF CAMERA~~
Kenzi Grey, television and movie star, professional wrestler extraordinaire, and budding movie-maker, stands at a busy Los Angeles corner, an iPhone 7-Plus in her hand, her fingers flashing across the screen. Her face, dark in complexion even on bright days, is furrowed down, lips in a grimace, as she roasts ANOTHER person online. She was so tired of this.
A black car pulls up to the corner, through the L.A.W. star continues to type on her phone, ignoring the car even as a door is opened. A man in a black coat with silver pins steps out of the car, his dark hair shaved short, sunglasses hiding his eyes. The man walks to the back of the car and opens the door, revealing a ball of black and red puffery. Kenzi finally looks up.
"I have been fighting with people all morning! I'm tired of them messing with you!"
The subject of her ire, Sarah Selena Lacklan, just shrugs from within the car.
"I cause trouble. Kinda my thing."
"Well, they shouldn't play with your feelings EVER!"
Sarah again shrugs.
"Punkass and I will get it figured out. Eventually..."
"REALLY?!!!" screams Kenzi, stomping her foot. "Why are you after him? He's a pig!"
A third shrug.
"He gets me. Not many do. But! Today is not about him! Go Team Kickass! Which is totes our tag team name, by the way. Come on! Get in!"
Kenzi rolls her eyes and puts her phone in her bag.
"Fine! Team Kickass it is!"
Sarah scoots over, pulling long black skirts away from the door, and allows Kenzi to climb in. Doors are shut, keys are turned, and the car is driving through L.A. streets before they know it.
"I cannot wait to get this tattoo, Ken!" Sarah's eyes blaze with delight in their impossibly red way, the edges of her smile nearly rising up to the wings painted out with eyeliner. "I have been waiting FOREVER."
Kenzi shakes her head.
"I don't know why you want to ruin that pretty skin of yours, but it's your choice."
Sarah looks down at her hands.
"No question my skin is perfect, dearie. There are servants who wait in line for weeks at a time in order for the chance to bathe it in the milk of cows massaged by virgins."
Kenzi looks at her like she is crazy, but doesn't question her on it.
"But I fully appreciate body art. Father is covered in tattoos, and each one is important to him, each created in honor of momentous points in his life and career. And look at you! You have plenty!”
Kenzi shrugs her shoulders, but then her eyes open wide.
"Lets talk about this movie while we are at it! I want to know what your thoughts are!"
Sarah's ruby red lips purse for a moment, a finger coming up to delicately tap them. Her nails are once again lacquered black with red and yellow flames covering their base.
"Evil Peasant Whore gets her heart ripped out by the beautiful and just Red Queen. The Queen then eats it on front of the Penniless Peasant."
Kenzi smiles.
"I like it! Oh! Hey....how would you feel about being in the movie?"
Sarah’s face falls into darkness, those eyes seeming twin holes into a furnace.
"If there is a kissing scene with the pauper, you are dead."
Kenzi looks off to the side, not quite meeting Sarah's gaze.
"Well...I was kinda thinking that you might play the Peasant Girl."
"What?!" screams Sarah, eyes going wide. "But then who would play the benevolent and kind Queen?"
"My friend Katie...with your input of course."
Sarah looks unsure, so Kenzi presses.
"You know that world, but I want you to step outside yourself and explore your dark side. Explore the Evil Peasant Whore who threatens butts."
Sarah rolls her eyes.
"Truly a stretch. Wait...Katie from the band?"
Kenzi shakes her head.
"Katie Anderson. She can do it...trust me! But I want YOU to bring out your evil side! Show the world who the REAL evil person is."
Sarah mulls over the request for a moment.
"I can do that, if you think I can."
Kenzi smiles and hugs her friend.
"Girl...I KNOW you can and you'll be great at it!"
Sarah smiles and returns the hug of her odd friend. A ding of notification blares out as Kenzi and Sarah separate. Sarah pulls out a large and odd-looking phone. Her angular face falls.
"Great..." she says. "NOW he wants to talk…"
"Monk?"
"Yeah."
Kenzi's face flashes with anger.
"I got all over Song about his treatment of you and how I hated it! If Monk wants to run around with Butterface, that is fine! But he shouldn't let his shit friends hassle you about it! A man doesn't do that!"
Sarah looks confused.
"Who is Butterface?"
Kenzi looks disgusted.
"His new Asian girlfriend. Chimba Cheba or whatever her name is!"
Sarah looks confused for a moment.
"Wait...you mean Coda?"
"Whatever her name is. Why would he talk to her when he could have had a goddess?"
Sarah smiles at the compliment.
"Actually...um...we kinda dig each other. And she made it clear he was Friend Zoned."
"REALLY?!" cries Kenzi with indignation. "Maybe I'm pissed for no reason then. I mean...if you are okay being second choice...why should I be mad?"
Sarah sighs and looks out the window.
"Our problems are my fault, ya know..."
"It's your life," replies Kenzi. "If you say so! But he shouldn't let Chris and Mandi rub it in your face!"
Kenzi looks out the other window.
"What did you do wrong, anyway?"
"I left." Sarah’s voice is certainly no longer full of the arrogance which it usually is. "Didn't even give him a chance. I had my reasons...but it was still unfair to him. I know it hurt."
She chuckles and looks back at Kenzi.
"Truth be told, I expected open arms when I came back. Then I upset Song. But I think she and I are okay now. I...literally...begged forgiveness."
Kenzi turns back to Sarah, the expression on her face clearly showing that she is pissed.
"So you want me to be okay with his treatment of you?!"
"Not at all!" Sarah snaps back. "I appreciate and love you for your fire! Be mad! I am! We will work it out. It's just complicated, ya know?"
She pauses.
"My father says that the important things in life are not easy. If something was easy...then it was not important, yes?"
Kenzi shrugs.
"Sure."
Sarah rolls her eyes.
"Oh! Hey! I'm thinking of asking Justin Spirit to play the Peasant. Do you have any problems with that?"
Sarah shrugs.
"This Justin dude have abs?"
Kenzi smiles.
"Indeed. Really handsome fellow...if I can convince him to take the part."
Sarah smiles and winks.
"Just show him a pic of me."
Kenzi smiles.
"That should do it!"
"Obviously."
But even as they giggle, Kenzi sends Justin a picture text of Sarah, a selfie they took the night Sarah signed her #FSociety contract. After less than a minute, her iPhone dings. Kenzi’s eyes go wide.
"You were right! I showed the picture and BLAM!!!"
Sarah smiles.
"I do take breaths away. You have a pic of him?"
Kenzi flips through her phone, chooses a picture, and shows Sarah. The girl’s mouth slowly opens, eyes shining.
"Add a sex scene."
Kenzi cackles.
"With pleasure!"
The two find silence for a moment, but then Kenzi’s mouth falls open, her hand reaching out to grasp Sarah's shoulder.
"I have changed my mind. You have to play yourself on the movie now."
Sarah cocks a perfectly plucked and shaped eyebrow.
"Why the sudden change?"
"Because," replies Kenzi, turning eyes filled with mania towards her friend. "...MIDGETS."
Sarah can only shake her head.
* * * * * * * * * *
~~The PrincessTwilightSexyFang podcast, as viewed on hotgoths.fuckyeah, the following night: ON CAMERA~~
Now, I will be the first to admit that my first singles match did not go quite as I planned. Did not exactly go the way Judas wanted it either, what with the complete burial of who I am as a person like he tried to do. Like...fuck dude. I get it. I. GET. IT. You are not the first person to make fun of my skin tone or eye color. Not the first to bring up how or where I live. Not the first person to be an utterly racist asshole.
And yes I said racist!
Sure, I made fun of your scrawny ass. Sure, I made fun of the fact that you probably have two or three Daddy’s to take care of you. Sure, I mocked your completely ineffective revolution because all you can do is beat people in some pissant, second-tier fed. But at least I did not start making ethnic jokes. That's just bad form, dude.
Oh! And Senior Fucktard! Just a reminder: Let me know when you plan on jumping my opponent, yes? We totes could've figured something out, man. Instead, my first singles bout, which I WOULD HAVE WON, got tossed out. That sucks, man.
Anyway, I imagine that all the Denizens out there are wondering how I feel about being teamed up...again...with MelReav. Now, I'm not *saying* that seeing the booking sheet made the bottom of my stomach fall to goddamn China. I'm not *saying* that it was as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced. I'm not *saying* that she and I immediately got into the most epic subtweeting cold war of "NOPE" and "DO NOT WANT" gifs there has ever been. But...well...there it is.
I totally get what is going on. Robb was mad at me for calling his booking capabilities into question two shows in a row. And...well...considering the booking...I have all the right to! Booking me...ME...into the OBLIGATORY MULTI-PERSON MATCH?! Changing that match on sudden notice to make me and THE REAV team? And then that little shit-boy Judas? Fuck me, right? So...yeah...I get that I am being punished. I get that I have to deal with dipshits like his "award-winning" daughter who might as well be any other unimaginative twitface troll out there. I get that I have to carry people to greatness. I get it. Because I know the reason.
Robb is afraid of me.
And he should be. Because I am here to fuck people up. Physically...mentally...emotionally. He saw what I did to the candy loser and the 80’s throwback. He saw how I ripped Judas into shreds verbally. Hell, pretty soon he’ll see me destroy both the dreams and realities of a couple of penniless paupers. I’m tellin' ya, Denizens: This movie Kenzi and I are working on? Fuckin' masterpiece!
So, I understand Robb. I get it. I get your fear of what I can and will do to your roster. I get the desire...the NEED...you have to hold me down, to keep me away from your biggest stars. And while I understand it, I am also here to tell you that it will not work. Because this thing between THE REAV and I? A silly joke about dumb shit like cookies? Its nothing important. Just a jest. Just a rib. The reality is that, by that proverbial hell or high water, she and I are going to get together. We’ll be on the same page. We’ll train together, fight together, come together. And when the show comes around, by God, we’ll kick ass together.
Sweet Mother Mary...it will be...beautiful.
Oh...hey...one more thing, Denizens. The #LacklanlandSecretService has been all OVER my ass about my online activities. Overexposure this, too much skin that, blah blah blah another thing. So, if I disappear for a bit...well...its just temporary, okay?
Break's over! Back to the set! The Blood Princess Bride is going to be amazeballz3000!
So, signing off for now. Until next time, this has been Trump's Favorite Princess!
~~Ten Minutes Later: OFF CAMERA~~
Sarah sits in a chair in her trailer on the “set” of The Blood Princess Bride. Set is, of course, somewhat of a stretch: Kenzi was using her iPhone 7 Plus to film the movie in a public park. But the star still gets her own trailer! The girl sits in a chair, those red eyes staring at a computer screen, a look of indecision on her sharp face. The screen has a notification:
Video Call Incoming from Blasted Monk.
She chews her lip for a moment, takes a deep breath to steady herself, and presses the phone icon. The handsome Chinese man comes in clear, the high definition quality showing every sleek line of his jaw, and Sarah’s heart drops into her stomach.
"Damnit, Monk..."
Monk raises a dark eyebrow at the greeting.
"Dammit what, Miss Lacklan?"
"Do NOT 'Miss Lacklan' me, Sir!"
Sarah's voice is full of passion, a passion teetering on rage, and she does not allow herself a moment to calm down.
"I have spent days...DAYS!...trying to talk to you, trying to get some semblance of US back. I can admit to seeing the humor. At first. But your silence turned hurtful. I was made to look the desperate fool in front of our peers and colleagues.
"Is that what this was about? Make the haughty Blood Princess be pulled down to Earth to dwell amongst the swine? I have apologized profusely for the unfair way I acted towards you in December. I begged...literally BEGGED...forgiveness from Song...and meant every word of it. We both know how hard that was for me to admit I was both wrong and truly sorry."
She pauses for breath, looking away from the screen for a moment, before speaking again.
"Yet I have gotten nothing from you for nearly a week! I do not ask you to fight my battles for me, but Sweet Mother Mary, I want your support. Do you want me to fight? For you? For US? If not...just say so. I am an adult. I can take it.
"But if you do wish me to fight, then goddammit, give me something to fight for."
Monk does not immediately respond, instead allowing Sarah's words to ring across the miles between them. When he finally speaks, he does so in a calm and controlled manner.
"Song forgives you, so no worries. You fight for what you feel you need to fight for, however there is no US so you will not be fighting for that."
Sarah's face falls, her mouth opening to speak, but Monk continues.
"As far as being made to look like a 'desperate fool in front of our peers and colleagues?' You chose that as well. You could have texted instead of trying to get my attention in public."
"I did! I-"
"I don't do public in that degree, a topic like this is private, and you know that. Now if you choose to make a public that is on you, I will not do that as I have respect for you.
"As for support? I wish you well in your wrestling career. But I know you won't need it, you have been trained very well. In due time everyone will see what I see but until then you will just have to show them with every match you get."
Sarah sits back in shock. But then defiance fills her angular face.
"So be it. Have a nice life, Blasted Monk."
She reaches over to end the call, but a raised finger from Monk stops her.
"A few more things please."
Sarah sits back and give a nod.
"Song was about to kick me ass as she was told by Kenzi that I was wrong for having Chris and Mandi poke fun at you but I assure you that is far from the truth. I did not encourage them in any way. In fact I have made sure to stay out of this piss poor mess that has been created for a reason. I will not encourage them to provoke you or to leave you alone, just as I will not encourage you to do either. This sorry feud you two have going is just that, between you two. I hang out with him from time to time but believe me when I say your name never comes up at all.
"You may not believe me but I have nothing but respect for you, so I would never do such things. Truth is, even if I didn't have respect for you, I still wouldn't do those things. Unlike you, it's not in my nature to start fights. I hope you believe me."
He pauses a moment.
"I wish you well and best of luck to you. I will stop by #FSociety from time to time to see your matches. You won't know I'm there when I go but know that I will follow your career and will be there when you hold your first title. Good luck and take care Miss Lacklan. We will talk soon."
Sarah looks away from the camera for a moment and when she looks back her eyes shine with wetness.
"Baby...I am not sure if you know how this whole breakup thing works."
"Okay well let start with I'm not baby, I'm Blasted Monk, I'm trying to still be friends of some sort, as the other option is to act like we don’t know each other at all like we never met."
"Listen......"
Sarah's voice carries such an unusual level of softness that the Shaolin Master is caught off guard. Sarah takes a deep, watery breath.
"I am sorry I ran. I was scared."
Monk raises an eyebrow again.
"Scared? You?!"
"I was scared, okay? Scared of you. Scared of the way you made me feel. Scared of how much of my time I spent thinking about you. Scared of how the only thing coherent from you when you had your concussion was my face. Scared of us. I freaked."
She pauses, licking her lips.
"And I regret it. With every ounce of my being. Why am I not worth a second chance?"
Monk looks away from the camera for a moment before responding.
"You are worth more than a second chance, any guy you choose to be with should be honored to do so. I know you will find someone soon and I hope they see how honored they should be to have you. If they don't see it, don't give them that chance, as they won’t deserve you.
"You deserve better than me. Your 'Sister' Kenzi said I was a womanizer, and if that is true then you deserve better than that. You should be with someone who will be with you and only you. As for me, I now have to stay single and show everyone she was wrong. But until then it would not look right for you to be with someone she is calling a womanizer. SHE talks and everyone listens. She painted a untrue picture of me and now I have to correct that, which will not be easy since once she starts she doesn't stop."
Sarah's eyes flash with anger, the wetness causing them to glow like a cat reflecting moonlight, her hand pounding on the desk in a fist.
"Who the flying fuck cares what Ken thinks?! What WE think is what matters!"
She looks away from the camera and again takes a deep breath to steady herself.
"'Tis an American expression, but if I say, 'Cards on the table,' do you know what I mean?"
Monk leans forward and when he speaks he finally shows a degree of emotion.
"I'm sure I get what you are saying but I left the table already, so the dealer can put the cards away for now. You needs someone better than me, someone who is not looked at as a womanizer, someone who will be there for you and only you, not someone who others look at as a player just so everyone else can throw it in your face. Its not fair for you. Just look at how you been acting when you said you were done and you have 'No Ammo.' I'm not trying to give others more to poke fun of at your expensive. You deserve so much more than that. I'm sure there are plenty of men at #FSociety that would love to get to know you if you give one of them a chance."
"Goddamnit Monk, I am trying to tell you that I love you."
Silence.
Monk leans back. Sarah looks away again for a moment.
"I want us to stand by each other's side, fight for and with each other, face the bloody world together."
Her voice begins to waver.
"You are no womanizer. You are my baby. Strong, resolute. Stand with me. Let me stand with you. Please."
Monk opens his mouth to speak, but it is Sarah this time who silences him with an upraised finger, her eyes shining even brighter.
"If you can look me in the eye...tell me that you do not feel the same...then I will leave you alone. But Sweet Mother Mary, I do not think you can."
Silence. But then Monk leans forward.
"Yes, I'm afraid I can."
Sarah's face begins to fall.
"Please don't make this hard. No, I do not love you, but yes I deeply care about you and will never wish anything bad or ill your way. I also don’t think you are in love with me either as you would have never left me if you did. You may have an infatuation but even that I doubt. I can’t be your lover but I can be a friend, if you allow me to, I understand that may or may not work for you but all I can do is offer. No matter who you date in the future know that I support you and look forward to seeing what you can do in the ring. Your personal life, well I'm sure there are plenty dying to be with you."
Sarah's face has fallen completely, mouth agape, shoulders slumped, the light always in her eyes all but gone.
"Oh. I see. Um…"
She licks her lips.
"Wow. I...um..."
Her eyes dart around, like a drowning rat searching for a way out, all the while shining more and more with wetness.
"I...I need to go."
She reaches over and slams the laptop down, ending the call.
She sits in silence, body falling more and more in on itself.
Her phone, large and odd by any standard, vibrates with a message.
She does not check it.
She sits, alone in the dark, as the tears begin to fall.
~~Sunday, January 29th, 2017: ON CAMERA~~
The GrayFoote L.A. gym is an impressive building. Originally the brainchild of veteran professional wrestler Gray Malone, the chain of successful athletic centers only exploded with popularity once he penned the million-dollar deal which partnered kick-boxing and wrestling star Sasha Foote. Now with locations spreading throughout the country, the association was beginning to churn out athletes of all timbers out by the proverbial bushel, from Bobby Sabre to Paz Guevara to Saylor Khalifa, the nationwide company has created quite a name for itself. But even with the crazy world of professional sports, even in the middle of Los Angeles, the staff at the gym still cannot quite seem what to make of Sarah Selena Lacklan.
CLUNK!
Weights slam down like thunder, making various staff members jump.
CLUNK!
The thunder turns the heads of even the most tenured meat heads.
CLUNK!
Eyes cannot help themselves but to look at the little pale woman lifting far more weight than they first had assumed.
CLUNK!
Off in a corner by herself, Sarah ignores the stares. She is used to them. Her whole life has been filled with people staring at her, pointing at her, whispering about her. She was a legitimate princess, daughter to the King of the Mountain, the Lord of the Manor. Her whole life had been about being in the spotlight of those around her, had been about being the shining star of Light. Today was no different.
She wears practically nothing, as she is wont to do with lifting, as her father taught her. Sports bra and shorts barely covering her glutes, each black with matching flame patterns, her bare feet simply wrapped in white tape, the red vial around her neck clipped to a choker so as not to sway and get in the way. Her new tattoo, a white mask with purple eyes, blazes in the bright color of newness on her left shoulder.
She was well aware of the stares as she lifted the barbell off the floor, even of that poor teenage boy who was beside himself with the attempt to tear his eyes away from her ass every time she bent to lower the weight. She cannot help but smile a bit knowing quite well what he would be thinking about as he touched himself under the covers tonight.
Sarah slams the weight down a final time, stepping back from the bar for a moment to catch her breath and let the blood rush back down from her head. Three 45-pound plates per side, plus a few extra pounds with smaller weight. 350 pounds in total, she was pushing her 140-pound frame far, perhaps too far.
"You know," she says as she reaches down to grab a bottle of water. "There have been quite a few misconceptions about me since I first got to #FSociety."
She takes a drink of the water and breathes deeply, steadying herself from the exertion of the deadlifts. Sweat pours down her pale skin, helping to highlight the stark contrast of moonlight skin and black sportswear. She turns slightly to regard the camera directly.
"I am used to it, of course. People see me and just assume random Goth skank, right? Because I am utterly gorgeous and all. Then they hear me talk, her the British accent, and then totally double down on the idea of me being some random Goth skank. They chat me up, buy me drinks, assume I will be a wild ride. And while I can say that, yes, I am totes a wild ride, I am no random Goth skank. From wannabe 'demons' to gypsies, they soon walk away, relenting, realizing that I am no easy prey."
She pauses a moment to take a drink of water.
"I expected better of you, #FSociety. I expected that a company containing people like Ally would be more accepting, but thus far you have not. 'Tis a pity."
She pauses.
"As we all know, neither Reaver or I...appreciated...being booked together in this tag match. We got into it verbally before our debuts, and each made our displeasure known about the match being turned into a tag, but we showed remarkable chemistry. Truly, she and I worked well together in that match. So, I get the humor of this next tag match, I get the humor of being afforded a potential tag title match. But...well...the joke is on you, #FSociety.
"Melissa and I came together this weekend. We trained. We fought. I brought her a plate of cookies and she punched me in the face in response. She *may* have pulled my hair a little harder than she needed to after she caught me flirting with her new tat-boy, but I cannot blame her overmuch. Totes Sisterhood of Travelling Pants, ya know? But the point is that we are...believe it not...a team. I promised her a few days ago that I would come here with an open mind, my admittedly large ego checked at the door, and I did. I even graced this building, braved the oily stain that is the GrayFoote name, to work together. And we have succeeded."
She pauses, a look of disdain coming to her face as she looks around.
"Seriously though, this place? Ugh. Like, it has nice equipment and all of that, but the stankiness of the owners permeates all throughout. Like, its like there is this pool of water, pure and clean water, but it is underneath an oil slick. Does not matter how hard you try, or even how delicately you may move, no matter what, your arm will get the oil on it as it reaches for the fresh water. An oil slick which drains. And smells. Ugh. I am going to stink like mediocrity for days."
She shivers.
"Ugh. Sasha. Gross."
She turns back to the camera.
"Anyway, I have told you all that you are not prepared for who and what I am. Told you all that I was born to burn this world to the ground. And now I have backup. You guys are so fucked. Especially Rydell and Silver."
She pauses to take another drink.
"Up to this point, all Silver has had to say about me is making snide remarks about a protected twitface account. Which means that she has absolutely no clue how bad I am going to fuck her up, no clue about how I am going to kick her in the face so hard that even Foote herself would be all, 'Damn, girl.' No idea how I am more than willing to choke a bitch out. But Rydell? A little better. So because of that...because of showing a modicum of interest in the terrible wrath that I bring to this business, I feel that I owe her a bit of intimacy."
Sarah places down the bottle and glides towards the camera, the surprisingly large muscles in her legs quivering from their pump, until her face is the only thing seen. Even without her makeup, without the base to accentuate her strong lines or her customary black wings around her eyes, she is still hauntingly beautiful, the unnatural red eyes blazing.
"Rydell? Everything you have heard? Is true."
The left side of her mouth picks up in a smirk.
"See...I am not a gimmick. I am not a joke. I am not the product of some marketing team who sat in a room together to come up with a name and image to sell on t-shirts and mugs. Everything you have seen...everything you have heard...is the truth. Yes, Father and Friend Harold whipped that man in the middle of the ring like a slave as I watched and cackled. Yes, there is an entire group of people who believe me to be born to save this business through destruction. Yes, I really am the black and red, the revolution. But...well...that feckless moron getting beat down like a dog is not even the tip, dearie."
She takes a step back, her collarbone and shoulders coming into view. A delicate finger, again lacquered black and embossed with flames, points as the vial clipped to the choker.
"See this? This has been in every video you have seen from me, in every match I have fought. Rumors abound about what it is. But in this moment of intimacy I am affording you, I believe you need the whole truth."
She turns her eyes to regard the vial, the smirk returning to her ruby lips.
"This is the literal blood of my enemies. Not a jest, or game, or allegory. Literal."
She turns her eyes back to the camera, back to Kenzie.
"There was a man, a penniless pauper, who believed that he was on my level. He believed that he and I were equals. It was a joke, obviously. In no way, in no universe, could I ever be considered to be as...plain...as he was. And while it was fun to taunt him, he crossed a line. He...touched...me. He placed his hands on me. He placed his...well...there is no reason to give the horrid, nightmare-inducing details. All you need to know is that he did something I did not like. So I hurt him."
She smiles fully, her eyes gleaming.
"I jumped him. I drove his head into the floor, straight into the Abyss. I tied him to a chair. I bloodied him. I took that blood and put it in this vial. Even took some of it in my mouth and spat it in his girlfriend’s face."
She smiles even wider now, nodding, lost in memory.
"That part was fun."
She turns her attention back to the camera, back to the now.
"I wear it every day, Rydell. When I walk, when I talk. When I bathe, when I eat. When I fight, when I fuck. At all times. For two reasons. The first is as a caution from my father, to remind myself not to become obsessed with people, with rivals. I wear it to remember that I put him in his place, crushed his soul, and then moved on. And the other reason? Well, that happens to deal with you."
She looks away from the camera for a moment, her tongue snaking out to lick her lips.
"I wear it to remind myself not to let anyone fuck with me. Not to let anyone think they are better than me. And if they do? Straight down into the goddamned Abyss with them. And the thing that you need to bear in mind is that I did this to a man I barely know. To a man I was not even competing against. Sweet Mother Mary, imagine what I am going to do to you and Silver with a title shot on the line.
"In the past month I have shown you glimpses of life in Lacklanland, shown how I deal with peasants and dignitaries of state alike. Shown the vulnerability of my father's failing health, showed the love I have for the few I count as friends and peers. And through it all, I have shown that I am everything on have said I am: The Blood Princess, the Princess of Pain. I offer no salvation, no mercy, no hope. Only pain.
"I am not going to mock your abilities or your training. I am not going to be all, ‘YOU IZ TEH SUK’ or some such nonsense. We both know better than that. You are talented and driven. And saying otherwise would be an affront to honesty and form. Besides, when I kick your ass, when I drive you down into the Abyss, I want the world to know that it is not because of a lack of skill on your behalf, not because you are, indeed, TEH SUK, but because Reav and I are simply better than you.
"The truth is that, unfortunately for you and Silver, you are but ants. See, ants are kings of their domain. Strong, deadly. But wholly unaware of the wider world around them, wholly unaware of the giants ready to step on them at any moment’s notice. And me and Reav? We are the giants. We are the gods. Bugs go squish, Rydell. And...well...since I am allowing us this moment of intimacy..."
Sarah looks left and right, a look of conspiracy slipping into her face. When she speaks, she whispers.
"I may have the fires of revolution blazing from my face...but I was born with blue eyes to go with the strands of blonde silk atop my royal head. I am not just a god compared to your ant...I am genetically superior to you."
She pauses, that conspiratorial smile in place, but it falls as a look of what can only be called sadness creeps into her eyes.
"It has been a long week. A long few weeks. And I look forward to taking out a lot of my frustration on you. Nothing personal, mind, just need to break a nose or two. Just need to whip out that magnifying glass and torture some ants, ya know? Luckily for me, #FSociety booked me against a couple of ants. So enjoy a few more days of health, Rydell. Enjoy having all your body parts unbroken, enjoy being able to breath. Because soon...soon...that will change. And it will be beautiful."
She smiles, the sadness leaving her eyes. She takes a step back and walks over to her bag on the floor. Reaching in, she pulls out something rarely seen in the modern age: A book of matches. She shows the matchbook, a black piece of cardboard with a purple scythe on the front, to the camera as she walks back.
"A wise man once said that if you cannot make them see the light, then make them feel the heat."
Pulling a match free, she strikes it, the head bursting into shouts of red and yellow.
"I am the match, dearies. The Light which shall raze this whole world to the ground in order to build anew. And if I cannot make you see the Light, then by God’s grace, I will make you feel my heat."
She turns her gaze to the camera, her eyes shining bright with the reflection of the match.
"Mind the flames."
With that, Sarah brings her ruby lips together and blows out the match.
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