Residence of
William Prydor (Baltimore, Maryland):
June 12, 2008, 9:13 a.m.
He sat in the
solitude of his screening room, watching over the footage of the Tag Team
tournament. Of the five other people in
this match, four of them had been involved at some point in the tournament,
three had advanced to the finals, and two had won the thing. However, this wasn't a tag bout he was
preparing for; it was one of those matches where the pin could happen at a
moments' notice. As such, he wanted to
get as much information on everyone involved as he could.
He'd been in the
room for about two hours straight, looking at as much footage as he could and
making mental notes when his home phone rang.
He didn't even bother to look at the caller ID as he punched the
"talk" button. "Start
talking, it's your quarter."
There was a pause
before a mechanized female voice replied, "You have a collect call
from…" the voice changed to that of a woman sobbing for a brief second
before the robotic voice continued, "…at the Maryland Correctional
Institute."
As the voice
droned on, Will sighed. Almost two weeks
ago, she was sentenced to five years in prison for the crimes she was found
guilty of, though more could be added depending on what the other jurisdictions
ended up doing. But hadn't he made it
clear that he was done with her? Why was
she continuing to be a thorn in his side?
His anger beginning to rise within him, he waited for the prompt to end
and then pressed "1" to accept the call. Before he could even speak, she started. "Will, why are you doing this to
me?"
"Brandy, you
did this to yourself. When you decided
to have me taken out of wrestling, run down in the night like some common thug,
you deserved every last thing that you'll get coming to you. There is no one to blame but yourself."
"But if you
loved me, this would never have come to pass!
None of this would ever have happened!"
He sighed
again. This was going to ruin the rest
of his day, and Elyssa was not going to want to talk to him tonight; he could
see it coming. "How is me trying to
ensure our financial future together not loving you? Would you rather have spent all of our money
instead of having some put away for a house somewhere? Would you rather live on the street because
you had to buy all of the latest things and ruin the credit I had worked to
build?"
"But…"
"BUT
NOTHING!"
he roared into the phone, startling Brandy into silence. "You tried to use me for your own ends,
and when that failed you decided to use someone else to get revenge on me. It disgusts me to think that I once shared a
home…a bed…my life, with you!"
A sob on the other
side of line was his reply, as Will's anger continued to rise. Leave it to her to play the guilt trip card,
and try to make him feel bad for her being incarcerated. It pained him to realize that Brandy had gone
from someone who saw past his size to see the real person within, to a
money-grubbing, back-stabbing, psycho bitch who only looked out for
herself. As she let out another string
of deep sobs, Will forced his voice to remain calm as he spoke. "The day you told me you had been with someone
else, right before our wedding, I should have disowned you then. No, I had to be the nice guy and adhere to
the verbal agreement we made concerning the End of Nowhere. Then you turn around and do this to me,
thinking to drive me into madness and despair.
"You of all
people should have known that it wouldn't work.
I've never gotten that depressed in the past before, and I nearly
reached that point recently. Yet somehow
I kept plowing ahead, knowing that I could not give you the satisfaction of winning. And when it's all said and done, now that we
are at this point in our lives, you tell me, Brandy. Who is the one who is having the last
laugh?"
There was a
silence before she spoke. "Will…if
I could have found a way to avoid it, I would have. I was coerced into it."
"Still lying,
after all of that, Brandy? I know you
had an active hand in things. You are
NEVER one to be in a supporting role for long.
I thought I knew you better than you did, but I was wrong. I still know you well enough to know that
much about you."
There was further
silence on the other end of the line before Will resumed. "I thought as much. Do not call me again, do not try to get in
touch with me again, hell…you might as well forget that I exist. The minute I get off the phone with you, I'm
filing a protective order to keep you from coming in contact with me. I do not care how you started this, Brandy,
but I'm putting an end to it now. If I
never see you again, it will still be too soon for me."
At this, Brandy
chuckled…a low, sinister chuckle that made the hair on Will's neck stand
up. "You haven't seen the last of
me yet, Will. I can promise you
that." Before he could retort, she
hung up the phone. Sighing, he
disconnected, waited a few seconds, then called another number.
One ring. Two rings.
Three rings….
"Harford
County Sheriff's Department, Lieutenant Anderson speaking."
"Elyssa, it's
me. I know you're busy but I'll be
quick."
"What's
wrong, hon?"
"It's
Brandy. She just called me collect today
and seemed to indicate that we're not done with her yet."
"She did
WHAT?"
"Yeah. Listen, I need you to bring home an ex
parte form for me, so I can file it against--"
"I'll have it
taken care of by the end of my shift, Will.
As my residence is officially listed as your address, I can take care of
it here. Anything else?"
"…Nah. As I said, I know you're busy, so I'll get in
touch with the D.A.'s office to alert them that she will likely be filing an
appeal; that's the only thing I can think of that she has in mind."
"Actually,
Will, I have a bit of time. It's been a
rather sedated day, so I'll take care of that for you as well."
"Thanks,
dear. I owe you one."
"You can make
it up to me tonight." The low purr
of her voice before she hung up the phone made Will smile a bit. He also noticed that she never said that it
was a "quiet" or a "calm" day. Another superstition held over, as most cops
he knew believed that to say it was a quiet day meant that all hell was about
to break loose due to a jinx. He just
took it with a grain of salt and let it go, as he un-paused the footage he was
watching and went back to preparing for his match in just over a week. As he watched one of his opponents get an odd
look on his face, an idea went off in his head.
Although he didn't like to think ahead, this one was too good to pass
up, and he kept it in mind for when the time was right….
The End of
Nowhere: June 12, 2008, 2:38 p.m.
To say that this
is unusual is to be putting it lightly.
The NLW brass wants to do a sort of video monologue as a lead-in for the
six-pack challenge in a just under a week and a half. I do not know who had this
"brilliant" concept, but who am I to tell the powers that be to just
piss off? I mean…what the heck is there
to see around here?
Although Draco,
Kane, and the rest are my main focus, apparently the NLW sees me as a potential
moneymaker, an underdog who deals with the constant bitterness of the more
prejudiced folk like Jake Steel. The way
I see it is this: the fans are the ones
who basically pay our salaries. Without
the fans, there is no Jackson, no Archangel, no Harvey Danger…at least in the
way that we know them today. So if there
is something I can do to bring new fans into the seats to watch us compete,
then it would be best for us all.
After all,
championships may look nice on paper, and they damn sure look good around your
waist or over your shoulder as the case may be.
But in the end, it's the connection with the fans, the impact you have
with them, that determine your legacy in this sport. For the longest time since joining NLW, I had
neglected to remember that, electing instead to simply out-wrestle my
opponents.
And now that the
crowd has gone from indifference to cheering for me, I have remembered the
difference they make in how your legacy is forever recorded. So let those who are more concerned with
their own abilities be so narrow-minded.
I've tried it; and though it works, it lacks that certain connection one
gets with the fans.
Behind me, I hear
one of the technicians speak. "All
right, Phoenix, we're ready."
Showtime. Afraid you'll have to wait until Uprising
airs to see what happens here, folks.
After all, I can't give out EVERYTHING without ruining the fun for you!
I just hope this
idea I have will come to fruition. It
would be interesting, to say the least.
Heh. Time will tell, as it always does.
\___(^)___/
It only took them
one take to get everything done. He
noted that they were quick to pack up and leave, and simply wrote it off to the
heat and the lack of features within the borders of his property. However, when he heard an emergency siren
closing in on the End of Nowhere, he looked towards the entrance of the place.
Sure enough, an
ambulance had arrived, and was making a beeline for the house being built. Will took off at a sprint, knowing it'd still
take him a few minutes to get there. Once
he finally did, he saw one of the construction crew being loaded into the
ambulance, neck brace firmly in place.
He tracked down the foreman of the crew, Joe Nelson, to ask what
happened.
"Hammer fell
on top of him, no apparent injury but we want to be certain there's no
concussion. Funny thing is I saw that
hammer not even three minutes before it happened, and it was on the middle of
the board that it fell from. There was
no wind, and no one went near it before it fell. How it fell is beyond me."
As Will nodded and
took a look at the progress of the house, he had a sudden sinking feeling that
perhaps one of his recent opponents may have been right all along. But there was no way that could be true. Heck, ghost stories were simply that…
…right?
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