There is a soft cloud of smoke that filters through the room, causing the view to become blurry at a quick rate. We focus in on the source of the smoke, a pair of blurred, crimson red lips. As soon as the smoke slowly dissipates, the lips become more prominent. Within a few seconds, a pair of neatly manicured nails brings a half finished cigarette to the pair of lips, taking in another deep drag. The cigarette withdraws from the lips as they open partially. A small plume of smoke exits the lips, before being drawn back in quickly. We pan out slowly to find our Bombshell Champion, Delia Darling, wearing a pair of sunglasses over her usually doe-like eyes, her hair cascading down her back in a platinum blonde fountain. Her red ruffled blouse gives us a feel of Christmas come early when combined with the thin gold chain, sporting an antique bell charm. However, the most prominent part of the shot, besides Delia herself, is the Bombshell Championship that is resting upon her shoulders. She brings the cigarette back to her lips, taking a slow, seductive drag as she sits in an office chair at a desk. She appears to be impatient as she glares down at the name plate on the desk, reading “Erik Staggsâ€. She tips her cigarette toward it, ashing upon it just as the door opens. She sighs out in relief, billowing out a large cloud of smoke as an after effect. She doesn’t bother turning around to acknowledge SCW’s Head of Talent Relations.
Erik walks into the room, immediately hit in the face with the smell of cigarettes filling his nostrils. His face sours as he straightens the silver tie around his neck, running his hands down his light blue dress shirt. He closes the grey jacket to maintain a sense of professionalism, despite the scowl upon his face. Delia sets her arm on the arm rest, holding her cigarette in the air. Erik immediately walks over to her and snatches the cigarette from between her fingers. He walks with firm authority around his desk, dropping it into coffee hug before picking up a manila envelope, fanning the smoke around as best he can.
Erik: What the hell are you doing?
Delia forces her lips over to one side, letting out the last bit of smoke from her lungs as she likely calculates Erik’s reaction from under her sunglasses. Her lips comes back around, before curling into a smile.
Delia: Why, I was having a cigarette, darling. What are you doing, aside from wasting my valuable time?
Erik narrows his eyes at Delia before slamming his palms against the top of his desk. He wraps his fingers underneath as he glares at her with the Staggs signature icy glare. This only causes her smile to intensify as she shows her pearly white teeth.
Erik: You think you’re really something, don’t you Ms. Darling?
Delia: I don’t have to. Everyone else does enough of z’at for me.
Delia shrugs her shoulders as she gently lowers her sunglasses from over her eyes. She slowly closes the ear pieces together before tucking them down into her purse, all while her eyes never once look away from Erik’s. Her lips slowly meet once again, though the left corner of her lips stay curled into a smile. Erik is not amused as he slowly lowers himself into his seat. Disgust is plastered across his entire face.
Erik: You’re so full of it, Delia. Trust me. I know when I’m knee deep in bullshit, and this reeks of your own special brand of it.
Delia winks at Erik before offering him a chuckle. She reaches down into her purse, pulling out a pack of class A cigarettes. She dares to pull one out, closing the pack together before reaching into her pocket to pull out a book of matches.
Erik: Don’t you fucking dare…
Delia: I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you quit.
Erik: I didn’t, but this is a no smoking building.
Delia flicks her tongue out from between her lips as she slides it across her lower lip, itching for her nicotine fix to be fulfilled. This is when the pleasantries are brushed side for Delia.
Delia: Z’at is funny, because I could have sworn z’at I walked past z’e Men’s restroom a few hours ago… you know, after “Stoner†Scott Oliver walked inside, and… I saw smoke coming from under z’e door. And it was much more foul of an odor z’an z’ese. You know, I s’ink it might have been a marijuana cigarette… such as z’e ones which are illegal in Nevada…
Erik: That’s none of my business, actu…
Delia: Oh, no z’at is where you are wrong. You see, cigarettes are not illegal. By smoking z’em, I am doing nos’ing z’at could land me behind bars. Z’e putrid smell z’at resonates from z’e Men’s LOCKER ROOM z’ese days, as well as z’at disgusting stoner fuck of an interviewer… is very much your business. Is it not your job to force people to piss in a cup before z’ey sign z’eir contract? Z’e very ones who plaster Twitter wi’s z’e details of z’eir very illegal escapades, and even pass out drug filled brownies backstage… S’ank GOD I do not eat chocolate, or who knows what might have happened to me!
Erik’s lip curls up into a bit of a snarl. Delia snubs her nose at him as her eyes flare up, having officially made her point. She presses the cigarette between her lips as she pulls a match from the book, striking it on the red line on the back of the book. She brings the match up to the cigarette, taking another deep drag before dropping the burning match into the same coffee cup on Erik’s desk.
Delia: Now, I don’t suppose you called me here for a lecture about how terrible smoking is for my heals’?
Erik: No, I called you here, because there is a more pressing matter. You have something that belongs to Sin City Wrestling, and with the ethical dilemma you’ve put us in, we have no other option but to…
Delia holds her cigarette between two fingers, but curls one around the cigarette as she holds the other up to stop Erik in mid sentence. She shakes her head from side to side as she blows out another plume of smoke in his face.
Delia: Because I am so nice, I must stop you before you make a complete and utter ass of yourself, Mister Staggs…
Delia adjusts herself in her seat before reaching up to the belt on her shoulder. She clutches onto it with her free hand, in a very possessive manner, almost daring Erik to try to physically take it from her.
Delia: Z’ere is no es’ical dilemma here. You have a letter faxed from my primary physician, explaining z’at I am not pregnant, and z’erefore, I can still wrestle.
Erik: Bull… shit!
Erik pounds the top of his desk once more, so hard that, combined with how fast his voice raised, it even makes Delia jump somewhat. She scoffs to hide the fact that she was intimidated for even a second, but Erik doesn’t afford her a chance to make a snarky, sarcastic remark.
Erik: We both know that the letter is a fake.
Delia: Call him. I assure you Jeffrey would be more z’an happy to share z’e test results wi’s you once I’ve given him written consent…
Erik: I did call him, and do you know what his response was?
Delia shrugs her shoulders, though she returns the same venomous stare that he is giving her.
Delia: No, I do not, because I wasn’t on z’e phone wi’s you two, nor was I even in z’e same room as you, and do you know why? It was because you made me sit in your office while you took forever to get in contact wi’s my doctor.
Erik: First off, it is a Sunday night, and he took a while to return my call. Secondly, his response was rather confusing. He said “Yeah, I mean no… whatever the letter I faxed over said.†He wasn’t even clever about the bullshit he was trying to feed me.
Delia stares, her left eye narrowing slightly as she clinches her teeth together behind her lips. After a moment, Delia finally breaks the stare as she looks away from Erik.
Delia: You have my letter, so I do not understand what z’e big deal is, Mister Staggs…
Erik shakes his head as he lets out a laugh, though there is a very obvious sense of disgust to it. He tilts his head to the side, studying Delia, waiting for her to show some sign of remorse, or understanding of his way of thinking. When it doesn’t come, he does a sarcastic scoff at her, mocking her before he proceeds to explain.
Erik: “I do not understand what z’e big deal is, Mister…†Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?! Are you certifiably mental, or are you just a complete fucking moron? It’s a legitimate question, because if you really don’t see what is wrong with this picture, then those are the only two options!
Delia shrugs her shoulders before flipping a few loose strands of hair over her shoulder, keeping it off of the Bombshell Championship.
Delia: I did not ask for your sarcasm, Staggs.
Erik points from across his desk, becoming much more animated than we are used to seeing him. He laughs abruptly, which only makes Delia roll her eyes.
Erik: You asked the idiotic question of what was wrong with this picture. What ISN’T wrong with this? You’re PREGNANT, and you’re so wrapped up in your own personal interests that you can’t even set it aside for your CHILD!!!
Delia: Are we finished yet? I would like to leave z’is shithole before it gets too dark. Z’ere are a lot of desperate people in San Jose…
Erik: Almost…
Erik reaches over the desk and abruptly snatches the belt off of Delia’s shoulder before she even has time to try to protest. She gasps, but is too late to try to grab onto the belt. Erik sets it down in his lap, and with a daring facial expression, he snarls at Delia.
Erik: Now we’re finished. You can leave now.
Delia: I will NOT leave wi’sout my…
Erik: YOUR what? It’s not YOUR anything. It is Sin City Wrestling property. Pack your shit and get the hell out of here. I’m tired of looking at you.
Delia glares at Erik, practically snarling back at him as she digs her nails into the arm rest of the chair. She leans forward, ready to leap over the desk and tackle Erik, and he gives her an expression that dares her to. She bares her teeth at him before standing up, pushing the chair back. He leans back in his chair, calming down while Delia leans over the desk. Delia breathes heavily in anger as she stares down at Erik. After a moment, she pushes herself off of the desk and reaches into her pocket, retrieving her cell phone. She begins dialing a number, which causes Erik to become intrigued.
Delia: Let’s see what my lawyer has to say about z’is, shall we? … Hello? Yes, z’is is Delia Darling… Yes… Yes… I have a very important matter to discuss wi’s you.
Erik: Go ahead. I always loved a good battle between lawyers…
Delia: I have given my employer an official statement from my physician, clearing me to wrestle, yet z’ey still insist on stripping me of my championship, and forcing me out of my job. I am not familiar wi’s American law, but I assume z’is is against z’e law? … Yes, I s’ought so… Yes. I s’ink I am suffering from mental anguish because of z’is as well… Yes… Yes… Sin City Wrestling… Yes… s’ank you…
Delia taps her foot as a snarky smirk comes over her face. She turns to face Erik as her smile widens with what she is hearing. Erik rolls his eyes as he looks down at the belt in his lap.
Delia: It appears I have a strong case. I do hope z’at you can explain to Mark and Christian why you are going to bankrupt z’is shitty promotion by forcing one of few actual talents from z’e roster, while bringing on a major lawsuit in z’e process?
Erik just glares at her angrily as she slides her phone back into her pocket. She slowly saunters around the desk as she reaches down into Erik’s lap, slowly taking the Bombshell Championship back into her possession. She places it back on her shoulder where it was before, only to glare down at Erik once more.
Delia: Try z’at again, and I assure you… I will OWN Sin City Wrestling… FOR REAL!
Delia lets out the last part with a very shrill, demanding shout that echoes off of the walls. She turns around and walks over to the door. As she exits it, she slams it behind her, walking into the hallway. Standing against the wall is Mercedes Vargas, also sporting her Bombshell Roulette Championship. Her eyes gravitate toward Delia’s belt as a smirk comes across her face.
Mercedes: I assume things went your way?
Delia is flustered, but she immediately forces herself into a calm, composed form as she puts a smile on her face. She takes a deep breath before sighing it out in relief.
Delia: Always, darling… always…
Delia and Mercedes begin walking down the hallway when they are almost immediately stopped by Holly Wood. The three ladies share an intense stare down before Holly slowly brings a microphone from behind her back, bringing it up to her lips.
Holly: So, Delia… It appears that you still have the Bombshell Championship?
Holly’s voice comes out as a mixture of sarcasm and surprise. Delia immediately flips her hair in a showing of disrespect to Holly as she looks down at the belt draped over her shoulder.
Delia: It would appear to be so, would it not?
Holly: Well, Erik always did have a hard spot for the Bombshells. I’m not sure how you pulled that one off… but I’d love for you to give me the juicy details…
Holly winks at the camera, giving us a hint at what she’s picturing mentally. However, Delia and Mercedes don’t find the same humor in it that Holly does, both rolling their eyes at her.
Delia: Is z’ere a point to z’is all?
Holly: Yeah, there is but… Never mind. So, I guess the Main Event for next week is still happening?
Delia: Well, I figured you would know since you blew your way into z’e SCW inner circle. How would I know?
Holly: Well, you’re in it!
Mercedes: Naturally. She’s Delia Fucking Darling, why would she not be?
Holly looks over at Mercedes, tracing a finger across her own cheek as she gently brushes a strand of blonde, springy hair from her face. She gives Mercedes a fake friendly smirk before looking back to Delia.
Holly: You’re defending your championship next week, but most of us were wondering if that was still happening since you got knocked up by Drake Green. How are you still allowed to wrestle?
Delia: Z’at is between management, my physician, and myself. Let me guess, I am going to defend against Roxi Johnson z’is week? Figures…
Holly: No…
Delia: Misty?
Holly shakes her head in the negative, causing Delia to scratch her head in a mixture of surprise and confusion.
Delia: Z’e cleaning lady? I mean, who else is z’ere?
Holly: Necra Octavian Kane.
Delia: Who?
Holly: The Goddess of the Dead? The woman who came out and challenged you to a Sarcophagus Match.
Delia tilts her head back and chuckles. She looks over to Mercedes, who smiles, but nods her head. Delia playfully snarls as if that couldn’t possibly be true. She shakes her head and then slowly stops herself from chuckling more.
Delia: Really? Z’at is a real s’ing? I mean, Sarcophgus Match AND z’e fact z’at Necra challenged me? Why would she do somes’ing so stupid…?
Mercedes: We did kind of beat the hell out of her servant girl about an hour ago. She seemed kind of angry about that.
Delia: Yeah, but does z’at instantly make her wor’s my time? She’s not. She never will be. Her Daughters of Doldrums have been like a s’orn in our sides for mon’s, but suddenly z’ey get to demand title shots? I don’t walk around here making demands, and I’m one of s’ree Bombshells around here wor’s two shits. She must need to feel like a big shot or some’sing. Well, I’ll indulge her, but only because I’m… so nice. I’ll see her in z’e ring next week, but I’ve got an appointment after z’e show, so I won’t have much time to make her feel as if she has a chance of actually winning.
Holly: What if she does stand a chance of actually winning?
Mercedes and Delia laugh at the sheer thought of what Holly just said. Holly narrows her eyes until a sly smirk comes over her face. She joins in with the laughing for just a second before talking low into the microphone.
Holly: Maybe if she doesn’t take Necra serious, we could finally see a new Bombshell Champion. Who doesn’t want to see that?
Holly immediately begins laughing with Delia and Mercedes again before the two Mean Girls start to walk off. Delia pats her title belt firmly before her and Mercedes walk into the Mean Girls locker room, shutting the door firmly behind them as the camera fades out.
