"Sometimes, you can say oh so much with the smallest of gestures. After all, they do say that actions speak louder than words." -Delia, darling if you must...S.C.E.N.E. O.N.E. -- Middle Finger Salute
LOCALE: Hamad bin Khalifa Stadium; Doha, QatarThere is a loud whimpering heard coming from the medical center inside of the stadium where the latest Climax Control was being held. After a moment, there is a slight pause in the whimpering, as the person in pain replaces their moans by hissing breaths inward. After a moment of this, the whimpering slowly returns. We pan around toward the door to see Delia Darling sitting on the medical bed while an unfamiliar face is seen sitting in a rolling chair next to the bed. He is an older man, his hair slicked back, and a tastefully clean goatee. We can assume that he is a medical professional based on the white coat and the stethescope dangling from his neck. He gently reaches forward, motioning for Delia's hand, and she reluctantly extends it forward.
Delia: Doctor Ford... I am fine, I assure, I-yyyyyeowwwwwwwwww!!!
Ford: Did that hurt, Ms. Darling?
Delia nearly has tears in her eyes as she glares at him, almost angry as she jerks her hand back toward her body. She holds it close to her, nursing it gently as she nearly hisses at him.
Delia: Nawwww... What z'e FUCK do you s'ink?!?
The doctor doesn't appear to be amused as he once again reaches forward for Delia's hand. She rapidly shakes her head, causing him to sigh as he reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out a red sucker in a shiny wrapper. He extends it out to her, and she scoffs at him.
Delia: What do I look like, a s'ree year old?
Ford: Delia, come now. I've treated you for numerous injuries this year. I've been on tour with you for months now. You always ask for the sucker, and I've found that it keeps you from rupturing my ear drums during examinations, so would you please...?
Delia: I... I do not... except z'at one time, but I was having low blood sugar because I was a Mean Girl, and I rarely ate, so...
He spins the sucker around between his fingers in an almost sarcastically tantalizing manner. Delia glares at him for a second before snatching it out of his hand, whimpering in pain once more. However, the look in her eye is that of a small joy, thanking him with a forced smile. She sticks the plastic between her teeth and yanks the sucker back. Spitting the plastic out onto the floor, she then places the sucker in her mouth, groaning in pain while moaning in pleasure. While he has her distracted, Doctor Ford gently grabs her hand, feeling around slowly. After a few seconds, he hits a painful spot as Delia groans loudly, pursing her lips around the sucker as a tear rolls down her cheek.
Delia: Mmmohhhh ferrrrk! Ferk, ferk, ferk... Gr-at hurgts...
Ford: How about this?
The doctor presses down on another finger, causing Delia to whimper lightly. She nods her head as she looks away to see Mercedes standing in the doorway, watching her friend. This adds a level of comfort to Delia as she sinks into the bed slightly.
Ford: I've got good news for you, Ms. Darling.
Delia: I... I told you I wers fine.
Delia sucks on the sucker, swallowing a bit as she pulls it out of her mouth. She tilts her head to the side as she notices his expression doesn't seem to live up to the good news promised.
Ford: Your middle finger is broken. I'm going to need you to make a trip to the emergency room for casting.
Delia: Ugh, z'at is supposed to be good news, Doc?
Ford: Well, it is good news considering the force of two chairs smashing against your hand could have crushed it to dust. I'd call that a win, Ms. Darling. I'll be accompanying you so that we can get you seen immediately.
Delia groans as she places the sucker back in her mouth. Doctor Ford looks over toward Mercedes, just now noticing she is there.
Ford: Will you be accompanying us to the hospital Ms. Vargas?
Mercedes: I didn't have any other plans for tonight, so why not spend it in a hospital?
Ford: Great. I will get the car if you wouldn't mind helping Delia with her bags. She's likely got a hundred of them as usual, so...
The doctor snickers a little as he nudges Delia's good arm. He rolls her eyes before shaking her head at his statement. Mercedes sighs as she places her hands on her hips.
Mercedes: That would be the understatement of the millenium.
Delia: Hey! I travel much lighter z'ese days, I assure. I only have about fifty bags...
Delia does a sarcastic sneer toward Mercedes who winks with a smile on her face. She holds her hand out toward the door, motioning for Delia to lead the way. Delia gingerly gets up from the bed, cradling her arm closely as she walks past Mercedes. Doctor Ford pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and dials a number, placing it to his ear as the girls exit the room. Delia watches the spectators, some of which smile at her misery, while a pleasing amount of people give her nods of condolence. She crunches down on the remainder of the sucker in her mouth, throwing the stick away in a nearby trash can. They walk over to the Bombshell Locker Room, and Mercedes opens the door, holding it so Delia can pass, and she quickly follows after.
Mercedes: Do you care to explain, Deelz?
Delia stops, her eyes wandering around the surprisingly empty locker room as Mercedes' words resonate with her. A look of confusion washes over her face as she titls her head to the side, waiting for an explanation. However, Mercedes waits for an answer, almost looking impatient.
Delia: What? What are you talking about, Mercy?
Mercedes: Don't play dumb, Delia. We both know what I'm talking about.
Delia: Ummm... no?
Delia raises an eyebrow, blinking her eyes slowly as she is genuinely confused. Mercedes scoffs as she walks past Delia and toward the lockers. She pulls open one door, as she begins to unload a few bags onto the bench in front of her.
Mercedes: Those bitches attacked you, they broke your finger, and they tried to do so much more. They tried to take you out.
Delia: Obviously... and?
Mercedes: You might have turned over a new leaf, but don't expect me to buy the fact that you are just going to roll over and take this.
Delia shrugs her shoulders as she reaches with her good hand and picks up two of the bags, slinging them over her shoulder, despite a silent protest from Mercedes. Delia waits as Mercedes flings the remaining four bags behind her as they walk toward the door once more.
Mercedes: Revenge? I know that if I'm thinking it, you've got to be plotting something big in that pretty little head of yours. You haven't changed
THAT much.
Delia: I don't know, Mercy. I'm feeling sort of forgiving, actually. Z'ey needed to make a statement, and unfortunately for me, it happened to be at my expense.
Delia shrugs her shoulders once more as she walks through the open door. Mercedes follows after her, closing the door behind them as they walk in the opposite direction of where they came from. Mercedes seems utterly shocked as she studies Delia's unwaivering expression. After a moment of silence, Mercedes stops and turns to Delia, causing her to stop as well. Mercedes seems almost disappointed as well as shocked.
Mercedes: Are you being serious right now? Not even a tiny prank? A twitter bashing? Nothing? I know I said this already, but it bares repeating... Seriously?!
Delia: Oh gawwwd no! Z'ose bitches are going to get somes'ing special courtesy of Delia Darling Enterprises...
Delia winks, a bit of a wicked smile coming over her face once more. Mercedes sighs in relief, and soon, an equally wicked smile comes over her face. Delia looks directly to the camera following them, and she sets her bags down on the ground, getting closer to it so that she takes up most of the view.
Delia: Tell Mandy and Ronnie z'at we...
Delia points from herself to Mercedes, back and forth rapidly a few times as she nods her head.
Delia: ... we're coming for z'em in two weeks, and I've got a special message for z'em in z'e meantime...
Delia lifts up her injured hand, struggling as she hisses in pain. She closes her fist slowly, groaning and gritting her teeth until only one finger is raised up. She gently waves her broken middle finger back and forth across the screen, despite the very obvious amount of pain it causes her. She centers the salute for a moment until the screen begins to go black.
[*Fade*]"Sometimes, you can say oh so much with the smallest of gestures. After all, they do say that action speak louder than words." -Delia, darling if you must...S.C.E.N.E. T.W.O. -- A Heavy Reunion
LOCALE: Delia's Penthouse; Las Vegas, Nevada"I Want You To Know" by Zedd featuring Selena Gomez begins playing over the speakers on the rooftop deck outside of Delia's penthouse suite. The Vegas skyline is brightly lit against the dark night sky as the party guests dance the night away. Some make their way into the pool, while others sit in deep conversation, or as deep as most models are capable of. Sitting in the center of the action is Delia Darling. She has a cocktail glass in her hand, but by the looks of the condensation, and completely melted ice, she hasn't even taken a small sip from it. She cradles it in her good hand as she talks with her other hand, though her fingers don't move in the cast covering her arm. She stops and laughs as one of her model friends says something humorous. She waves her hand at the lovely Latina, sporting a ponytail that makes a fountain of caramel colored hair down her shoulders. In a breathy Marilyn Monroe-esque voice, she speaks again.
Friend: It might sound funny, but it was soooo unprofessional. I mean, check a compact mirror or something, am I right-ugh? Coke is so last decade, mamas...
Delia: She always did do vintage better, Fabiana, so...
Fabi: Oh my gawd, Delia, you're such a bitch...
Fabi acts as if she is serious in her accusation, though her protruding tongue lets us know otherwise. Delia shrugs her shoulders as she walks over to the edge of the pool, slipping her shoes off as she sits down on the side, dipping her feet inside. She hikes up her dress just a bit to avoid it getting soaked by the water, and Fabi sits down next to her, giggling as she is starting to feel the effects of the alcohol.
Fabi: So? Where is this hot piece of man candy you've been telling me about? What's his name? Jimmy?
Delia: Ugh, no... He's not a hillbilly. His name is Johnny, and he's not *air quotes* man candy. He's just a guy I've seen a couple of times...
Fabi: Oh em gee, you slut!
Fabi shoves Delia's arm as she howls with laughter, giving off the impression that she might be... well, and airhead... even by modeling standards. Delia rolls her eyes as she scoffs.
Delia: I never said I slept wi's him. We went on a couple dates. He's totally adorable, but I don't know... I mean, he's been so quiet lately. I mean, we've been busy I guess, what wi's z'e world tour and all, but... I don't know.
Fabi rubs Delia's arm gently as she makes a face that looks as if she'd witnessed a puppy getting kicked repeatedly for being too friendly.
Fabi: Awwwwwwwwwwww! I'm sure he'll come around. I mean, he'd be stupid not to, especially when you're so into him. I mean, you obviously are. I haven't seen you so into a guy since...
Fabi's voice trails off as she looks down at the pool, hoping Delia hadn't figured out where she was going. Delia bites onto her bottom lip, hoping to avoid the awkward direction of this conversation, until she just shrugs her shoulders.
Delia: I am used to being let down by men. I don't hold any expectation of z'em any longer. If it goes somewhere, great, but if not... I have never been one who needed a man to feel validated.
Fabi: Oh, lucky you... If Bryan doesn't call me when he says he will, I start thinking the worst. It's like... "Ugh, I knew I shouldn't have eaten that Sno Ball. Now my ass is jiggling." and it's just so sad...
Delia: I am so glad I don't give a shit any longer. I mean, I was always s'in, but I wonder if hanging around Veronica Taylor so long might have synchronized our hormones, and if I eat a cheeseburger, I'll gain a hundred pounds like her. She did used to be fat as a kid.
Fabi: Nuh uh! Shut up, mama! Like, are we talking Jessica Simpson 2011 fat, or Kirstie Alley post-Cheers fat?
Delia thinks about it for a second, tapping her chin as she groans at the strain of this tough decision. She then casually looks over to Fabi with a wicked grin on her face.
Delia: Biggie Smalls fat...
Fabi howls in laughter, kicking her feet up and down rapidly as she nearly chokes on her own saliva. She coughs as she leans into Delia, practically shrieking as she talks.
Fabi: You are soooooooo bad! Oh my gawwwd...
Delia: I mean, we always were like Biggie and Tupac. She was always second to me, and she couldn't take it, so she started beef wi's me. Z'en, she sent her *air quotes* crew to assassinate me. But, unlike Tupac, I'm not dead, and I'm very public. Ugh, z'at bitch...
Fabi: It's like so cool that you're a wrestler. I mean, I wish I could wrestle so I could smack Veronica around a little bit. She's so annoying. But, unlike you, I still have so much I want to accomplish in the modeling world. I can't ruin my face like...
Delia runs her finger across the mild scar on her forehead. Despite it being covered up very well, she can still feel it, and the words of her good friend sting, even though they weren't meant to. Delia sighs as she looks down to her watered down drink, tipping it back until she swallows it in just a matter of a few seconds. She sets the glass down next to her as she gently kicks her feet around.
Fabi: ... sorry...
Delia shrugs her shoulders again as her face sinks in disappointment. She looks across the large crowd, spotting a girl she'd never seen before walking out onto the deck. She Is wearing the most intriguing outfit. She is in a lavander dress, corseted against her stomach, fitting loosely around her chest, and the straps tie behind her neck, and a pair of white strapped, open toed heels. She is wearing an understated gold necklace with a small cross on it, but her crown of red, white, and blue roses is what draws the attention to her, from Delia at least. Her make up is understated, except for the bold eyeliner and eyeshadow. She looks as if she couldn't care less where she was, or the fact that no one was paying attention to her. She didn't need it to feed her ego. She casually scans the crowd before walking over toward the open bar. Delia can't seem to take her eyes off of this woman, and she taps Fabi on the arm rapidly before pointing in the girl's direction.
Delia: Fabi...? Who is z'at?
Fabi: Who? Amber Rose? Girl...
Delia: Duh, no, not Amber Rose. Of Course I know Amber Rose. I'm talking about z'e Queen of z'e County Fair over z'ere...
Fabi looks around for someone who wasn't dressed in the latest fashions. This was like playing "Where Is Waldo" for her, until her eyes rest on the girl who leans against the bar, sipping on the thin red straw in her drink. Fabi's eyes light up as she quickly stands up, flicking water at Delia, causing her to flinch and scoff as she tries to flick it all back off.
Fabi: That's the girl I was telling you about. Celeste North. Hey, Celeste! Over here!
Fabi shouts as she jumps and and down, waving her arms around in the air. The girl catches sight of this, the corner of her mouth curling up into a smile She casually walks up to Fabi, placing her lips to the side of her face, kissing the air, before repeating the same on the other side of her face. Fabi does the same, and then skips all formalities, pulling her in for a tight hug as she squeals. Celeste simply blinks as her eyes rest on Delia for a second, something piquing her own curiosity, though she's too cool for school, and won't admit it.
Celeste: Fabi... it's great to see you. I told you I wasn't doing the modeling thing anymore, so I don't know why you invited me to this Bulimia freak show.
Fabi: Oh my gawd, Cece... You can't call my other friends a Bulimia freak show. Especially in front of the hostess of the party. Talk about rudeness...
Celeste looks over to Delia, and though her expression doesn't show any remorse, she offers an apology, one that hits too close to home for Delia's own comfort.
Celeste: Sorry bout it...
Delia: You know, every time someone says z'at, I get paid a dollar and ninety-six cents. Seriously.
Celeste opens her mouth as if silently saying "ahhh" as she nods her head. She runs her hand down her dress as she lets the red straw hang loosely from her lip. She can't stop staring at Delia, though she chooses to ignore her as she speaks to Fabi.
Celeste: Chad wants to hit the casinos while we're here, so I don't know how long I'm going to stay. But, I said I'd be here so... here I am. Lame...
Celeste begins to walk off slowly, as if waiting for Fabi to chase after her. Fabi looks back to Delia with an apologetic glare.
Fabi: I'm gonna go show her around the room a little bit, but I'll be right back, kay?
Fabi nods her head in reassurance. Delia rolls her eyes a Fabi chases after her friend. She leans in to talk to her as Celeste looks back over her shoulder. She gives Delia one last glare, almost as if tempting her into some sort of game. Delia catches a hint of this and it rubs her in a strange way. She maintains eye contact for a moment until Celeste turns back to Fabi. Delia looks around, seeing this enormous group of international models, and other aspects of fame, and she can't help but feel completely alone right now. She stands up from the edge of the pool and she picks up her shoes, walking through the crowd toward the door. As she makes it inside, "Blame" by Calvin Harris, featuring John Newman begins playing. As much as she loves the artist, she just needs to retreat for a moment. She walks straight to her room, pushing the door open, but as she does, she hears two men moaning. Her mouth hangs open in shock as she shakes her head, rolling her eyes. She leaves the door open, but the intimate pair doesn't seem to care. Delia walks across the crowded open dining area to another bedroom. She jiggles the handle and then jams her shoulder into the door, popping it open. She closes it behind her as she leans against the door, sinking down to the ground. Across the room is Delia's father, Christopher Darling. He is watching an old noir film on the big screen television, but turns to see the intruder, seeing it to be his daughter.
Chris: Ma petit, are you feeling alright? Is it time for your medication?
Delia sighs as she brushes her chestnut hair out of her face, and tucks it behind her ears. She just stares silently at her father for a few seconds as she tries to formulate the words to describe what she's feeling.
Delia: No, I'm fine, it's just... I don't feel as z'ough I belong at my own party. After z'e weeked I had, I felt I deserved a Wednesday night party wi's my model friends, but... it feels like I am someone's "plus one" instead of z'e hostess.
Chris: Maybe you don't. Did z'is ever occur to you?
Delia: Um, no? It's not like I'm so irrelevant troll. I'm Delia Darling.
Chris stands up from the brown leather couch and walks over to Delia. The fact that he is in his underpants and a Mean Girls t-shirt (with all members but Delia and Mercedes marked out with a black marker) is a bit disturbing to Delia, but not enough to go out there and face this crowd. Chris sits down next to Delia on the floor as he tries to cradle her head against his chest, but this is just a little too much for her. Chris shrugs and then retorts.
Chris: You have been focusing a lot on your wrestling career over z'e last year or so. You haven't done a photoshoot since Denmark, mon's ago. You made a big enemy in z'e modeling world in Veronique.
Delia: Ugh, not helping papa.
Chris: It is z'e tru's. I mean, I have barely seen you since January, so imagine your non-wrestling friends. As time goes on, people change, and z'ey grow apart sometimes.
Delia sniffles a bit, thinking about this. Her father was right. As time goes on, she has grown distant to pretty much everyone, shy of Mercedes and Despayre. They were the only people she spoke to on a regular basis. She was always a social person, so this has been especially difficult.
Chris: You are entitled to a break, darling. It doesn't mean you have lost anys'ing, but you need time to take care of yourself. You wanted to be a champion in wrestling, and now you are. No one blames you for doing z'is.
Delia: But, I... I miss my friends. Is z'is really what I want? I mean, it never mattered much because I had Veronica, Angelica, and Mercedes... and z'en Amanda. I had Liz, Tessa, and Alex... I had so many friends on z'e road.
Chris: And now instead of so many good friends, you have one best friend. Someone who proved to you z'at z'ey aren't just looking to gain somes'ing from your friendship. She gave up just as much as you when she sided wi's you.
Delia wants to argue this somewhat, because she couldn't bare the thought that Mercedes could possibly feel the same way she does right now. The thought of Mercedes depending on Delia had just now sunk in. Of course she knew she depended on Mercedes, but the mutuality of it sink in now, causing Delia to sniffle once more. She reaches up with her good hand and wipes a tear from her eye.
Delia: I know, papa... I just wonder if I am good enough. I don't know if I am a good friend. I mean, I push everyone away when I feel stressed. I am too proud to ask for help. I am so used to being independent. I mean... I am so far out of my comfort zone, and I'm not sure I'm strong enough to keep going.
Chris doesn't give Delia a choice this time as he pulls her head against his chest. He runs his fingers through her hair, knowing this soothes her. She doesn't fight it this time. He shushes her for a moment as she lets a few tears drop down her cheek and onto her arm.
Chris: You are strong, my precious Cordelia. You have done so much on your own. It is unlike you to shrink back from a challenge. You will do just fine against Veronique and Amanda.
Delia: I haven't trained or sparred in like a mon's. I'm not sure if I can actually handle it all, and wi's Angelica lurking around... I'm just not sure.
Chris: Z'en train. Spar wi's someone. You can afford z'e best trainers on z'e planet, anyone you choose. And if you don't win, z'en you have more options...
Delia nods her head, when suddenly a thought occurs to her. She seems to calm down with this thought, and a sort of smile comes over her face, through her tear soaked cheeks. Chris smiles at this as Delia leans up and kisses her father on the cheek. She quickly stands up and opens the door, exiting quickly as Chris is left to wonder exactly what he did to fix the problem. He shrugs her shoulders as he walks back over to the leather couch.
[*Fade*]"The best choices in life are usually the most difficult. There is no gain when there is no pain. You have to face the difficulty in life if you wish to become stronger." -Delia, darling if you must...S.C.E.N.E. T.H.R.E.E. -- All Apologies
LOCALE: Suburbs of Las Vegas, Nevada"That was 'Last Friday' by Robert Scorpio, here on Now 104.3, and up next, we've got 'Blank Space' by... you got it!"The familiar Taylor Swift song begins playing as the radio DJ continues on. However, Delia can barely focus on that as she pulls into what appears to be a slightly upscale neighborhood somewhere in the suburbs of Las Vegas. She slows down as the neighborhood kids run around, enjoying this summer day, using water guns on each other as they run through the neatly manicured lawns. Delia looks out for her destination, though her mind is in about a thousand other places right now. She turns onto the next street, following it down to the stop sign. She waits for a group of elderly walkers to cross, waving to them as they do the same to her. She smiles softly, before slowly turning the corner and pulling up to the curb. She puts the car into park before turning it off. However, she doesn't quite want to get out of the car yet. She sits there for a moment, contemplating if this was even a good idea. She places her fingers on the keys in the ignition, ready to turn it back on, when she stops. She takes a deep breath, and then pulls the keys from the ignition, sliding them into her purse. She opens the door and slowly gets out. She is dressed much more casual than usual, her natural chestnut hair flowing in the light breeze. She is wearing a pair of form fitting jean shorts and an SCW tank top with tasteful black high heel boots. She clutches her purse against her as she closes the door to her car. Taking a deep breath, she straightens out her shirt before turning to look at the house... the red brick home with black shutters... a house we've seen many times in the past, and have come to know it as the home of Spike Staggs! Delia lowers her head as she walks up the walkway. Her sunglasses are on as always, and dressed this way, she almost doesn't seem recognizable. She walks onto the porch and then rings the doorbell. She folds her arms together in front of herself as she waits. Everything in her wants to turn around and run back to her car, but she's ready for this, or as ready as she will ever be.
The sound of a baby crying gets closer and closer as she hears footsteps approaching from within the house. She leans up as the front door opens, and we see Vixen standing at the door with a baby boy in a St. Louis Cardinal's onesie and bib. Vixen stares at Delia, almost not recognizing her.
Vixen: Can I help you?
Delia: Well, I, um... Is...
As soon as Delia speaks, Vixen's eyes narrow and she slams the door right in Delia's face. Delia laughs nervously at this before giving it a second. She then rings the doorbell once again, folding her arms in front of her politely once more. A few seconds pass before Vixen opens the door, this time with force, and no baby in her arms.
Vixen: Was I not clear enough before? You're not welcome in my home, chienne.
Vixen's French-Canadian accent is thick as she spits venom at Delia in the form of French vulgarity. Delia bows her head politely.
Delia: I... I deserve z'at.
Vixen leans against the doorway. Though she is angry, she keeps her voice low enough not to draw any attention from anyone inside of the house.
Vixen: Oh, you deserve a lot more than that, Delia.
Delia: Most definitely. You deserve to snap me in two, right here, right now. I was... horrible... to you.
Vixen chuckles, though there is sinister intent in her laugh. She rolls her eyes and turns back to make sure that Spike isn't within earshot of any of this. Once she's sure, she steps outside, gently closing the door behind her, but leaving it cracked ever so slightly in case she is needed inside. She steps up to the taller Delia, looking deep into her eyes with fire in her own.
Vixen: I'm a big girl, and I can take anything you dish out to me, and so much more. But, do you know who was not a big girl? Hm? Eden. That...
Vixen nearly shakes with anger at the mentioning of this. She lets out a nervous laugh, afraid that she might be on the verge of losing it, but the laugh seems to aliviate the pressure somewhat so that she might continue.
Vixen: ... that was unforgivable, Delia. She's just a little girl, and you kidnapped her.
Delia: Well... kidnapping might be a bit of a strong word, but...
Vixen: I would say it's pretty accurate, actually. It might even be an understatement. You forced her to sit down with you while you trashed someone she looks up to, in the most vulgar way. She had nightmares about that for weeks, and if she were here right now, I would call the cops to get rid of you. But, since I hear you've turned over a new leaf, I'm going to ask you nicely, once more, to leave...
Delia looks back toward her car, contemplating leaving, but she turns back to Vixen, unfolding her arms as she puffs her chest out confidently. She straightens her back up and sighs.
Delia: I came here because I have some s'ings to say, and I feel I should say z'em before I leave. Would you afford me z'e opportunity.
Vixen: What? No!
Vixen can't believe Delia's audacity as she laughs in response. She steps up to Delia, but Delia takes a step back as well, holding her hands up in a sort of surrender.
Delia: I didn't come here to be confrontational, but I want to apologize to you, Spike, and Tim for everys'ing I've done. I feel genuinely sorry for all of it. I guess I felt I had to impress z'at wicked bitch, Veronica, so I did... s'ings... I am not proud of, and my biggest regrets of all are s'ings done to z'is family. I want you to know z'at I am so... so sorry.
Delia purses her lips together, sniffling a bit. She reaches up and wipes at her eyes. The tear are real as is evident by the watery mascara residue on her finger. She adjusts her glasses, sniffling once more. Before Vixen has the chance to enjoy this any further, the door opens up and Spike steps out onto the porch, looking a bit confused at this. He has both twins in his arms as he studies the person and immediately, he gets what is going on. Though, trying to remain calm with the babies in his arms, he looks to Vixen and speaks in a low tone.
Spike: What is going on out here, ladies?
There is a silence as Vixen glares at Delia, almost as if having a silent conversation with Spike, who seems to be getting every bit of what she is saying with body language. Spike hands Kit to Vixen, as he glares at Delia as well.
Spike: It would probably be best if you left, Delia.
Delia: Yes, I imagine it would. But, as I was telling Vixen, I came here to apologize for everys'ing I've done to your family. It has been quite a while, and I assumed while cooler heads prevail, I could express it to z'e bo's of you. From z'e bottom of my heart, I am truly sorry for all of it.
Spike: Yeah... *chuckles* I don't believe your charade. Not even one bit. Sell some more t-shirts, and feed off of the trusting, but ever so fickle fans, but don't expect me to believe you've changed.
Delia sighs, breaking her confident stance. She looks back toward her car once more, feeling it pulling at her almost. She bounces on her foot as she waves at her face from the effects of the hot sun flaring over the horizon.
Delia: I would have expected you to be more reasonable, Spike. You forgave people for a lot less, and z'ey weren't truly sorry as I am.
Spike: Oh... you're sorry alright. Look, I don't know what your motive is here, but I'm not in the mood for bullshit right now. You did the one thing Mark Ward could never do, and you got rid of me and NXT. You shoved me out the door completely. Honestly, I should thank you, but you're too vile even for my sarcasm.
Delia: You're right. Trust me, I've beaten myself up over all of z'is for mon's now. As a matter of fact, I've beaten myself up over z'is since it happened last year. I don't know what else I can do besides apologize.
Spike seems to pick up on her sincerity, causing him to loosen up slightly, though he remains cold in his stance. Delia takes her sunglasses off, tucking them into her shirt as she shows off her true vulnerability. She shrugs her shoulders.
Delia: I'm going to make you an offer, a one time deal. If you afford me fifteen minutes of your time to discuss a possible business proposition, no more apologies, because I am not a broken record, I am Delia Darling...
Spike: Business...? I'm listening.
Vixen: You can't be serious.
Spike looks to Vixen, shrugging his shoulders as they say a few more things to one another via body language. This brings a glimmer of hope to Delia's eyes.
Delia: I want you to train me, Spike. You are z'e best trainer in z'e business as I understand. You just need a student wi's z'e potential
Vixen: No... no!
Spike: What do I get in return. You don't have anything to offer me besides money, and as I once told Mark Ward, I'm not for sale.
Delia holds her hands up, pointing a finger in the air, as if she were about to drop a bombshell of an offer on them.
Delia: Wi's no reprecussions... if you allow me fifteen minutes to speak to you about z'is... I will stand by and allow Vixen to slap me as hard as she wants, for your enjoyment.
Spike smiles wickedly at the thought, but it fades quickly as he shakes his head.
Spike: No... I don't think she would go for...
Before Spike can finish what he is saying, Vixen hands Kit back over to Spike, and in one fluid motion, she hauls off and slaps Delia so hard that Delia spins around, nearly falling off of the porch. She is shocked, her eyes bugged out, as she clutches her cheek. She scoffs, but doesn't protest it too much. She shakes it off and then straightens her shirt out as she prepares to enter their home. However, before she can take three steps, Vixen repeats the slap, this time, knocking Delia off of the porch and into the bushes. Delia kicks her heels as she struggles to get back to her feet.
Delia: What?!? I said ONE!
Vixen shrugs her shoulders and winks at Spike, though she is clearly still hesitant. Vixen takes the twins back in her arms as she walks into the house. Spike laughs as he watches Delia struggle for a moment before shaking his head. He walks over to the bush to help Delia back onto her feet.
[*Fade*]"We are all creatures of destiny. We can fight it all we want, but we will always come back around to what we were meant to do." -Delia, darling if you must...S.C.E.N.E. F.O.U.R. -- Synchronicity
LOCALE: Sunset Boulevard; Beverly Hills, California"Are you sure you really wanna do this, Deelz?"The bright California sun shines down upon Delia and Mercedes as they walk across the neatly kept sidewalk, adjacent to Sunset Boulevard. Delia passes a security guard, flashing a form of identification at him as he nods, pressing a button to cause a wrought iron gate to begin opening. Delia holds her hands in front of her, clutching her purse against her body. Her hair is done in a straight, blonde free-flowing style that gently waves in the breeze, and a fun sundress with Japanese Cherry Blossom print on it, with black pumps. Mercedes has her usual hair style, but looks stunning in a form fitting aqua dress. She blows a kiss to the security guard, waving at him as a blush comes over his cheeks. Delia giggles and whispers to Mercedes, but Mercedes just shrugs and winks back at him.
Delia: Look who learned to be flirty...
Mercedes: He's cute... but how long do you think it will be until someone realizes we don't belong?
Delia waves off Mercedes' concerns as she tucks the identification back into her purse. She lets the purse hang at her side as they approach a white brick building that seems to be much more well kept than the surrounding areas. Delia waves kindly to the doorman as he opens the door for the pair.
Doorman: Ms. Darling, Ms. Vargas. Long time, no see.
Mercedes appears to be slightly nervous, which says a lot for the stoic Bombshell. Delia gently nudges her with an elbow, smiling sweetly as she looks directly at the doorman, pausing for a brief pleasantry.
Delia: Yes, Clint, it has been quite some time. Sin City Wrestling has been on a World Tour, so we have not had time to stop by recently.
Doorman: Well, it is great to see you both. Where are Amanda, Angelica and Veronica?
A smile creeps across Delia's face as she simply chuckles, waving off the compliment as if she is surprised he would need to ask such a question. Deep inside, however, she is relieved to hear that they are not here.
Delia: Oh, you know Veronica... she can't resist a day of shopping. I just wanted to come back and rest my hand. Mercy and I have a big match coming up in a few days.
Clint: I'll have to tune in. Who are you facing?
Mercedes nearly stomps on Delia's foot, trying to urge her to move along, but Delia places a hand on Mercedes' shoulder, letting her know it is alright. She flashes a polite smile at the older gentleman with the Midwest accent.
Delia: Oh, just some basic, busted, ratchet whores... Business as usual, I assure...
Clint: Well, good luck. It has been months since I tuned in.
Mercedes: Clearly...
Mercedes does a fake friendly laugh as she pulls Delia along. Clint gives a suspicious look in their direction, though he simply raises a hand to wave at them.
Clint: I'll be cheering for you...
Delia: You better, bitch...
Delia blows him a kiss, flattering the gentleman as he returns to his post. Mercedes drags Delia along toward the elevator rapidly punching the "up" button. Delia scoffs as she turns Mercedes to face her.
Delia: Five G's... Good Gawd Girl Get a Grip!
Mercedes: I'm sorry if almost getting caught ten times in ten seconds has be a little worried. This is serious.
Delia: If anys'ing, Clint hates Veronica as much as we do, so it's whatever. But, could you have been any more obvious?
Mercedes goes to respond, but the elevator door opens, and Delia brushes past her. Mercedes follows inside and Delia presses the number eight button. The door closes behind them as they begin their journey.
Delia: Look, it's going to be fine. We're just here for a quick visit, z'at is all, darling.
Mercedes: Yeah, like I believe that. Not even for a second.
Delia shrugs as they hit the eighth floor and the door opens. The two exit from the elevator, making their way down the hallway, all the way to the end there they hit a second elevator door. Delia pulls out the identification card once more, sliding it into a slot next to the door. As she pulls it back, a green light and a pleasant tone pop up as the door opens. They walk inside, and Mercedes seems to ease up some now, pressing the button to close the door. They have a much shorter trip this time before the door opens, leading down a short hallway. Delia nearly squeals with joy as she charges down the hallway. Mercedes casually follows behind her until they reach the door. Delia pulls a key ring out, opening the door just a crack.
Delia: Are you ready?
Mercedes: Ready as I'll ever be...
Mercedes brushes past Delia, opening the door all the way. They walk inside, and stare around in amazement. The walls are a deep salmon pink, with black and white furry seating in front of a large window. They look around at the wall, showing off extra large posters of Veronica Taylor, Angelica, and Amanda Cortez. This gives away the location to be the Mean Girls clubhouse. Delia looks over a few paces to see the poster of Mercedes Vargas, painted up to look like a clown, with the phrase "uggo" written underneath. Delia lets out a hearty chuckle, though Mercedes doesn't find the same charm to be involved.
Mercedes: What maturity...
Delia: Z'is is Veronica Taylor we're talking about. Since she was a fat cow as a teenager, she is living out her adulthood as Regina George.
Delia studies the defaced poster of herself, bruises drawn onto her face, a couple of her teeth blacked out, and something that is supposed to be random French that spells out "I sont des cornichons sales" Delia chuckles once more as she points to this.
Delia: I "are" dirty pickles? It's just sad really, but whatever helps z'em sleep at night, no?
Delia sets her purse down on the nearest black furry chair as she walks around, soaking in the beauty of the clubhouse. It really had been too long since she had been here, so she was taking her time drinking it in. She walks over to the large window overlooking Sunset Boulevard, sighing at the beauty of it all. She turns around to see the defaced posters of Liz Smalls, Tessa Flannigan, and Mz. Holly Wood, giving her a brief memory of the old days, but it is a fleeting moment as Mercedes pulls out a bottle of champagne, popping the cork. Without even looking for a glass, she takes a sip straight from the bottle.
Delia: Ugh, rude much?
Delia scolds Mercedes who shrugs in response. Delia shakes her head in disgust, before taking the bottle from Mercedes' hand. She takes a large gulp, letting out a loud belch that almost startles Mercedes before making her laugh a bit. Delia hands the bottle back as she covers her mouth in a faux showing of manners that is only momentary.
Delia: Look, we didn't bring the camera with us for nos'ing. Can we move z'is along, Mercy?
Mercedes: Me? You're the one procrastinating.
Delia: Oh, whatever wi's you...
Delia turns to face the camera as she slowly backs up to the chair with her purse. She collapses on the chair, making herself at home as she stretches out, finding the sweet spot in it. Once satisfied, she brings her foot up onto the couch, letting the other dangle off of the side.
Delia: Mean Girls clubhouse... it truly has been too long, darlings... I wish I could say I love what you've done wi's z'e place, but unfortunately, Veronica Taylor lacks originality. Z'at is what I brought to z'e Mean Girls.
Mercedes sits down in a nearby chair, taking another drink from the bottle before turning her attention to Delia.
Delia: Wi'sout me, Mean Girls are just a hot mess. Z'ey are nos'ing. As I brought originality, Mercedes brought talent. Somes'ing I learned greatly from. Veronica brought ego, and Amanda brought... what did she bring?
Mercedes: Besides the onslaught of the English language?
Delia: Burn...
Delia licks her finger and reaches back toward Mercedes, making a sizzling sound with her mouth before slowly retracting it.
Delia: Angelica brought... well, she brought z'e idea to rip off a movie z'at came out over ten years ago, and z'at is about all. See, when z'e Mean Girls kicked Mercedes an myself out of z'e circle, z'ey lost anys'ing z'at set z'em apart from z'e stereotype. Now, z'ey are just ditzy, bitchy models. Nos'ing more. Sales of Mean Girls merchandise took a serious nosedive while Jealous Janis merchandise spiked. Do you see where I'm going wi's z'is?
Mercedes: It's obvious. People hate the Mean Girls. They don't love to hate them, either. They just generally despise them.
Delia: Right? We owe z'em s'anks, because z'ey basically rescued us from z'e sinking ship, no?
Delia waits for some kind of verbal response, while she can't see Mercedes nodding her head. After a moment, Delia proceeds.
Delia: Don't get me wrong. Some habits die hard. Z'ere is one s'ing I have missed most about being a Mean Girl.
Delia reaches into her purse, pulling out a pink bound book with ranson lettering on the cover, spelling out "Burn Book". A wide, almost sadistic grin comes over her face as she waves the book around as if rubbing it in their faces.
Delia: Z'at's right, bitches! I took z'is wi's me when I was kicked out. I looked at everys'ing I've put in z'is book since Angelica turned it over to me just over a year ago, and some of z'e s'ings I put in here are just... terrible. I have been tempted to release my tensions into it, but no one seemed truly deserving of it. Z'at is... until about a week and a half ago when s'ree cowards attacked me in z'e Bombshell Locker Room, breaking my middle finger. Z'en, it became very clear what needed to be done.
Delia pulls out three photos from her purse, along with a pink sharpie marker and a purple glue stick. She taps the photos on the Burn Book before lifting the first one up for the camera to see.
<img src=http://img2.timeinc.net/people/i/2011/database/110221/mila-kunis-300.jpg>
She removes the cap from the glue stick and runs it across the back of the photo. Using her one good hand, she gently presses the photo into the book before biting off the cap of the maker. She spits it to her side as she begins scribbling next to the picture. After a few seconds, she turns the book around to show the words "Dirty whore."
Delia: Trust me, I know it is a basic insult, but she is a basic bitch, so she deserves no more. And I mean, how fitting is it? She sucked a dick to get me a contract wi's Sin City Wrestling. She sucked a dick to get just about everys'ing she's ever gotten in SCW. When I met her, she tried to sleep wi's me. If anyone ever calls Amanda Cortez a whore, z'ey need to take a look at Angelica. She sets z'e standard for whores across z'e world. She likes to act like she is responsible for z'e Mean Girls being what z'ey were, but really, I made all of z'e important calls since I entered. Angelica showed me a few basic moves, but it is only a small portion of what I learned during my time in wrestling. I could beat her blindfolded, wi's bo's arms tied behind my back. She is wors'less, so she is in like minded company. While I could go on for hours about her, I won't bore everyone wi's minor details, which is her career in a nutshell. I've got bigger fish to fry as z'ey say...
Delia looks to Mercedes who feigns a yawn, gently tapping at her lips before taking another sip from the champagne bottle. Delia pulls up the next picture, slowly turning it around and waving it with a sweet smile on her face.
<img src=http://api.ning.com/files/uFCQvH3jdgAGmW2oqp5-ERibUtI*UiQ5A2PVpCh0hI5iT07FTdQmuY3rB9MnEpaFt5zueWlcfgDPGDqSz64FpCBzYjuD6rlh/BrandNew7.jpg>
Delia pastes it into the Burn Book slowly before picking the marker up once more. She scribbles quickly onto the page before setting the marker down to turn the book around once more, revealing the word "Idiot" printed on the page.
Delia: Amanda Cortez is a moron. Z'is much is clear. She says she is z'e best, and s'inks she can defeat me on any given day. Hunty, I pinned you in z'e middle of z'e ring wi's more integrity z'an z'e majority of your matches since last December. Z'e sad part is z'at Mercedes clobbered you wi's a chair before I pinned you. Yet, it was still more honorable z'an any win you've gotten since joining z'e Mean Girls.
Mercedes: She just couldn't stand the fact that you and I turned their tactics around on her, and it cost her the match. Turnabout is fair play.
Delia: Exactly, but you can't convince stupid. Stupid believes what stupid is taught, and nos'ing can change it. Amanda believes she is God's gift to wrestling, yet who has z'e Bombshell Tag Team Championships? Is it her and Veronica? No, it's Mercedes Vargas and Delia Darling. Not because we had to cheat to win, but because we outwrestled you. Z'at makes twice in two weeks, darling. Call it a fluke win all you like, but facts are facts.
Delia props the book up against her chest as she leans back, almost seductively as if drifting off into thought.
Delia: See, a smart person would have followed me out of the Mean Girls locker room z'at day. A smart person would have done what Mercedes did, because a smart person knows z'at Delia Darling...
Delia lifts one hand up high into the air, cupping her hand to show a plateau.
Delia: ... is above...
Delia takes her hand that is in the cast, and she places it just a few inches above her stomach.
Delia: ... Veronica Taylor. It is as true as one plus one being equal to two. Basic deduction should have told you z'at Veronica Taylor and her impulsive reactions would sink Mean Girls, and eventually cost you z'e tag titles. But, z'e stupidity doesn't stop z'ere. See, Mercedes and I decided to turn over a new leaf. We decided we wanted to be better people, and we gave you a chance to walk away, and act as if us and Mean Girls had never been a s'ing. What did you two do? You came out and cost Mercedes her opportunity at z'e Bombshell Championship. Z'e title z'at z'e watered down version of myself went on to win. So, in essence, you cost her a Bombshell Championship reign. You z'en went on to... *chuckles* to challenge me over Twitter. Yeah, we saw how z'at turned out... but, we clearly stated z'at you could walk away from everys'ing wi's no reprecussions should you and Veronica play fair. Of course, z'at was too much to ask, because you were flailing against me, and Veronica had no choice but to try to save you. Too little, too late, I'm afraid. But, z'e fact is z'at you ignored our second warning.
Delia looks down to her purse, trying to resist the opportunity to rub something into the faces of Veronica Taylor and Amanda Cortez, but she just can't. She reaches into her purse and pulls out her half of the Bombshell Tag Team Championships, holding the leather strap up in the air for them to take in.
Delia: We went on z'e very next week to take z'ese from you. You were stupid enough to s'ink z'at we would not react. You, of all people, should have known better, Mandy. You have seen what I was capable of, and honestly, it was z'e only reason you joined Mean Girls to begin wi's. You declared a war on us, and we responded in kind. Sorry bout it...
Delia lets the belt linger in the bright sunlight for a moment longer before resting it on the arm of the chair, still very visible in the camera shot. She takes the last photo, and anyone could guess who it is of.
<img src=http://www.zasme.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/03/adriana-lima-without-a-mustache-supermodel-girlfriend.jpg>
Delia quickly repeats the process of pasting the picture inside, and scribbling something into the book with the pink marker. She holds it out for a second to admire her handiwork before smirking and turning the book around to show that she has written "Suffers from Narcissistic Personality Disorder... A Former Fatty". Delia winks before setting the book down against her chest once more. Mercedes snickers as she reads the message, and Delia continues on.
Delia: Veronica Taylor is z'e first person to tell you what is wrong wi's you. Unfortunately, she can't see her own flaws. She goes on about how beautiful she is while putting os'ers down. Z'ese are classic tell tale signs of Narcissistic Personality Disorder. Since you are not smart enough to know what z'at means, Ronnie, allow me to explain. Narcissistic Personality Disorder is characterized by a long-standing pattern of grandiosity, eis'er in fantasy or actual behavior, an overwhelming need for admiration, and usually a complete lack of empas'y toward os'ers. People wi's z'is disorder often believe z'ey are of primary importance in everybody’s life or to anyone z'ey meet.
Mercedes: So, Veronica Taylor in a nutshell. Cool, is her picture next to the definition?
Delia: It is in z'e Burn Book...
Delia snickers as she reaches across to Mercedes, grabbing onto her hand in a showing of cohesiveness, and also to celebrate her small quip. She returns her hand back to her lap as she continues on with her roast of Veronica Taylor.
Delia: You see, Veronica... you like to believe z'e world revolves around you, because when you were younger, you were overweight. You probably had pimples and coke bottle glasses, but since you burned all evidence of your ratchetness, z'is is merely speculation. What has been confirmed is z'at you used to be a hefty girl, and were a victim of bullying in school. See, normally I would feel sorry for someone who went s'rough such s'ings, but I do believe you have more z'an made up for z'is. Z'ere is a reason nobody likes you, and it is because you have amplified what z'ose girls did to you in school by like... a million times. As you liked to put it back when we were friends... You used to be ugly. But now? You're gorgeous, right?
Delia lets out a loud buzzing sound with her mouth, before shaking her head from side to side. She gives a stern look to the camera as she continues on.
Delia: Wrong, Ronnie. You are z'e ugliest person I have ever met, honestly. Don't get me wrong, you are pretty. You have z'e most beautiful blue eyes. Your skin is pretty flawless, somes'ing not even I can boast about since Twisted Sister ironed my face out like it was a pair of slacks. You keep your hair looking on point, and sometimes I s'ink you wake up looking as if you've just come from a salon. Your make up is perfection, always. Your outfits... well, z'ey are no Delia Darling originals, but z'ey are always stylish and z'is season. So, if all of z'is is true, z'en how can you be z'e ugliest person I've ever met. Please, brace yourself, because I am about to drop an abstract concept on you, somes'ing you do not do well wi's...
Delia pauses, holding her arms out as if to help build the anticipation. She gives a silent count down, nodding her head with each tick of the internal clock, until finally she drops her hands slowly as she proceeds.
Delia: You are hideous on z'e inside. You are a terrible person, and no amount of bullying or being raised by a mos'er who was just as terrible as you are could justify your actions. Even when I was being a total bitch to anyone and everyone, I knew it was wrong, but for you? It is like second nature to you. You are disgusting, and you don't even know it. Z'at is z'e only reason you have someone like Giani Di Luca, because he uses his own victim mentality to justify his douchebaggery. You are a match made in heaven.
Delia pauses for a moment as she gets choked up on her words. She doesn't want to go off on a tangent right now, so she stops herself, honing her train of thought and focusing on the timeline she has in her head.
Delia: You know, when I decided to wrestle, it was because of you, Veronica. You inspired me to learn to wrestle. A little history lesson for people... I used to wrestle for New York Divas Wrestling. It was z'e closest I could get to Sin City Wrestling wi's z'e roster cap at z'e time. It was a short stint, and I wasn't nearly as good as I am now, but... I joined, because I wanted to tear Veronica Taylor down. I wanted to destroy her bland modeling history in comparison to my own. I wanted to take her down and rid z'e wrestling world of her. It was really my one and only reason for joining wrestling. But, after a sabbatical, and a few conversations wi's Angelica... s'ings turned out differently. I built z'e dynasty known as z'e Mean Girls. You can ask anyone, and z'ey will tell you z'e same s'ing. I wanted to play nice so z'at we might continue our dominance, and soon, you just left my radar altoges'er
Delia lets her hand soar slowly through the air until it passes over her head and behind her.
Delia: You were, and still are, nos'ing to me. Nos'ing but a pest. Mercy and I took your tag titles, z'e only s'ing keeping you important. On Sunday, we're going to defeat you and keep z'em, so you will be forced to step it up and do somes'ing important, or you will fade into obscurity. Z'at is not some arrogant, empty s'reat. It is a fact z'at everyone knows. Z'ere is no way in hell z'at you will defeat us. Not wi's all of z'e chairs at ringside. Not wi's all of z'e mirrors in z'e shiek's palace. Not wi's every bottle of Veronica's Secret in z'e world. We know your game better z'an anyone, and we will be prepared for all of it, and so much more. So, do me a favor, Ronnie. Get in z'at gym wi's Angelica, and train. Train you little ass off. Bring somes'ing we are not prepared for... an
actual fight. Z'en, and only z'en, will you two stand a chance against us and take back z'e titles.
Delia holds the title up one more. She gently closes the Burn Book, setting it to the side. She stands up from the chair, and she straightens out her dress prim and proper. She ties the belt around her waist, giving a half twirl from left to right, and then right to left to show off the belt. Mercedes puts her belt around her waist as the two raise their hands together, showing unity. Delia picks up the Burn Book and her purse as they turn toward the door. Delia stops, causing Mercedes to stop as well. She slowly turns back to the camera, holding her finger up as if to say "and just one more thing..."
Delia: ... If you need a little drive for your training, I s'ink I might be able to help you some...
Delia pulls the champagne bottle from Mercedes' hand, and she hurls it right at the poster of Veronica, causing it to warp a little, with shards of glass sticking out from it. Mercedes gets a gleeful smile on her face. However, Delia is not finished. She walks over to the wall and rips Veronica and Amanda's posters off of the wall. She crumbles them up and stomps viciously on them as she roars in fury. Mercedes laughs almost maniacally as she knocks a vase off of a nearby table, shattering it. Delia walks over to the memorial case of all of the Mean Girls accomplishments, and she dumps it over, causing it to shatter, spilling the contest over the floor. Delia then grabs a large shard of glass from the ground and she walks over to the couches, stabbing them violently as she rips them apart. Stuffing flies everywhere as Mercedes walks along the walls, knocking anything and everything in her path to the ground. She comes to a table with an inactive champagne fountain, and she knocks it over, shattering all of the glasses in her wake. Delia picks up a wooden chair and slams it into the wall, causing the legs to stick into it. The chair hangs there, as Delia walks over to the trophy case on the ground. She pulls the Burn Book out as well as a lighter. She lights the Burn Book on fire and watches as it quickly catches flame. She drops the book onto the broken trophy case. Mercedes tosses something through the large glass door leading to the deck where there is a hot tub. Delia walks to the remainder of the door, knocking it out as she walks through it. She walks to the hot tub, and climbs the stairs. Mercedes looks a little awkwardly at Delia, who drops her panties to the ground.
Mercedes: I'm all for destruction, but... Oh, god...
Delia: Z'e posters! Now!
Mercedes squints in confusion, but Delia's urgency prompts her to grab them. She runs them out to Delia, still keeping her head turns. Delia drops them into the inactive hot tub, squatting down as the camera quickly turns away. However, the tickling sound that soon follows tells us exactly what she is doing. It is a clear omen of what Delia plans to do to Veronica and Amanda at Into The Void IV. As the tinkling tapers off, Mercedes shakes her head, pressing a button on the camera that causes the screen to slowly go black.
[*Fade*]
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