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Topics - Delia Darling

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Climax Control Archives / Hong Kong Garden
« on: July 17, 2015, 11:22:06 AM »
 "Revenge is a dish best served by force feeding it to your enemies, making them gag on your eleganza!" -Delia, darling if you must...


S.C.E.N.E. O.N.E. -- Victory Lap
LOCALE: Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum's Palace; Dubai, United Arab Emirates


The sounds of "Break Free" by Ariana Grande featuring Zedd, plays over the speakers set up in the ballroom of the palace.  Delia Darling and Mercedes Vargas are celebrating their victory over the Mean Girls.  Both ladies are all smiles as they exchange an embrace, throwing their titles high into the air.  After their questionable... more like distasteful... entrance, all done with the best of intentions, the crowd isn't giving the best reaction.  However, a hatred for Amanda Cortez and Veronica Taylor seems to gain them some measure of cheers, which is good enough for them at this point.  They step to the outside of the ring as they walk along the barricade, shaking hands with the crowd members who are willing.  Delia makes her way over to the Sheikh and his son, almost seeming nervous as they glare at her.  Mercedes glares at Delia as if she were crazier than Twisted Sister, and there was a good chance she might be.  She bows before him in a showing of respect, which gains a large pop from the crowd.  The son looks to his father, and as Delia rises up, he motions for her to come closer.  As she does, he stands up and extends his hand to Delia as a sign of good faith.  Delia graciously accepts, and even goes one step further to kiss him on the cheek tenderly.  He blushes as the crowd seems fully won over.  He waves Mercedes over, as well as a camera man, getting a picture with the lovely Anti-Mean Girls planting a kiss on each of his cheeks.  The music restarts as the ladies make one last round with the crowd.  As they walk up the entryway, they see Veronica Taylor having a total meltdown in the ring all by herself.  Delia and Mercedes blow her a faux friendly kiss, which only serves to aggravate her more.  Giani Di Luca finds his way back inside of the ring to comfort Veronica, only for her to shout at him, and point to Delia and Mercedes.  Delia rolls her eyes as she turns around, pushing the curtains aside.  It is amazing how serene the palace is compared to the chaotic backstage areas at most of the venues.  Delia actually feels like she can breathe for a minute.  She pulls her purple wig off of her head, and the subsequent stocking cap that housed her natural chestnut locks.  She sighs as she looks over to Mercedes with an excited squeal escaping her mouth.

Delia:  Oh... my gawd, Mercy.  We've done it.

Mercedes:  Did you ever actually have a doubt?

Delia's smile fades slightly as she nibbles on her bottom lip, almost nervously.  Mercedes scoffs at the idea, flipping her hair in a Mean Girls mockery.

Mercedes:  I said all along that we should all just stab Caesar.  Of course, when I said that, you were kind of the Caesar, but she wanted the position so badly...

Delia:  Yes, yes, she did, and... Hey, wait a minute... You actually wanted to stab me?

Mercedes shrugs her shoulders as she adjusts the championship belt that still feels so at home on her shoulders.

Mercedes:  If I didn't, I probably wouldn't have a pulse, now would I?

Delia:  Ohhhh you bitch...

Delia's French accent lingers in a nasally fashion as she chuckles deviously.  However, she concedes to Mercedes' estimation, smiling and shrugging her shoulders.  She looks into an arabesque mirror hanging on the wall nearby, fluffing her hair about as she tries to restore volume.

Delia:  But, to answer your previous question, yes... I honestly had some doubts.  I mean, I knew we could destroy z'em, but z'ey are quite resilient when it comes to finding outside sources to help z'em win matches.  I've never been one to team wi's people, because women seem to dislike me no matter what I do.  Z'is just seems... too good to be true.

Delia finishes with her hair as she turns around to face Mercedes, almost seeming awestruck.  However, before she can say anything, her face sours slightly as she watches Amanda Cortez walking around the corner.  The normally cute, and arrogant, fiery redheaded Bombshell stares with pure contempt written across her face.  Mercedes looks at Delia questioningly as she turns around to see Amanda standing there with a cigarette between her lips.  Mercedes and Delia prepare for a fight as Amanda walks toward them, tauntingly seductive as her hips sway.

Delia:  You don't want to do z'is, Mandy...

Mercedes snorts as she folds her belt up neatly, setting it on a nearby speaker.  She cracks her knuckles as she readies herself for anything Amanda can throw at her.

Mercedes:  You reeeeeeealllllllly don't want to do this, Mandy...

Amanda:  Oh, I think I do, Delia.

She cracks her own knuckles as she brushes right past Mercedes and up to Delia.  She grabs a fistful of Delia's hair, yanking it back as she leans into Delia, planting a big, lingering kiss on Delia's lips.  Delia's hands extend, stiffening up as she tries to fight it.  However, between the shock, and Amanda's strength, she can't.  Mercedes almost doesn't know what to do about this as she simply blinks.

Mercedes:  Well, I have to say I sure as hell wasn't expecting that...

Amanda pulls back, letting Delia go.  Delia wipes at her lips, sputtering, all while a look of confusion comes across her face.  Amanda bites at her own bottom lip as she takes a few steps backward.

Amanda:  This is my way of saying "thank you."

Delia:  Ummmm...?

Amanda:  If you do not pin Veronica in that ring tonight, maybe I don't see how worthless she is until she drags me down to her level.  It really is embarrassing to be seen with someone who is such an idiot, and who doesn't fight well.  She was holding me back.

Delia nods her head while still seeming completely shocked by the kiss, rubbing at her lips with the side of her hand.  Mercedes shakes her head, snickering about it.  Delia's eyes narrow as she looks at Mercedes.  She purses her lips as she points in a very demanding manner.

Delia:  Quiet, you!

Mercedes pulls her fingers across her lips in a "zipping" motion, though a few snorts of laughter escape her nostrils.  Delia looks back to Amanda, but before she can respond, Amanda cuts her off.

Amanda:  I wish for us to be friends once again.  I don't feel it should be too hard without Veronica's pathetic ass hanging around us.

Delia:  What?  No... No?  No!  No way in hell.  You had your chance.  It's not even about picking sides here.  You broke my trust when you chose Veronica over me.  You proved to moi z'at I cannot trust you.  Gold and ambition is more important to you z'an friendship.  You made s'ings personal, you know?  Z'at is not somes'ing I can just get over so easily.  Sorry bout it, but it will take time.

Amanda nods her head, though she seems a bit disappointed.  She sighs, but then gives Delia a warm and cute smile.

Amanda:  Okay.  I can deal with this.

She walks away slowly, though just as seductive as she came.  Delia tries not to see rude as she wipes away at her lips.  Amanda turns around and sees Delia doing this, and she winks.

Amanda:  Don't act so shy.  You know you liked it, hehe...  Your entrance was nice, by the way, Rainbow Brite.

Amanda chuckles as she walks off, leaving Delia and Mercedes standing there in confusion.  Mercedes slowly looks over to Delia, as if there was something she wasn't telling her.  It is done in a joking manner, though Delia simply growls as she walks off.  Mercedes shrugs her shoulders as she follows suit.
[*Fade*]




"When presented with a true test, you have two options.  You can buckle under the pressure of the test, or you can push yourself to your limits to pass the test." -Delia, darling if you must...


S.C.E.N.E. T.W.O. -- Hong Kong Garden
LOCALE: Nan Lian Garden; Hong Kong, China


The sun shines brightly upon the majestic garden known across all of China for its radiant beauty.  It is built in the style of the Tang Dynasty, amidst the Diamon Hills myriad, it is a tranquil spot that feels much like a safe haven from the hustle and bustle of the surrounding city.  The public park is built according to the strict rules of feng shui.  Every fountain, every piece of timber used for construction of the bridge and building in the center of the park, every plant, even down to every rock placed inside of the park, is in place to harmonize.  We come to the short red bridge leading from a walking path to the center of the pond where the building is placed.  The way the sunlight hits it on this mid afternoon day, it almost seems to be dipped in gold.  Soon, we hear the sound of footsteps walking across the bridge.  The heels click firmly against the red wood until it meets the larger planks of the structure surrounding the building.  As the camera turns slightly, we see that it is none other than Sin City Wrestling reporter, Mz. Holly Wood.  She looks quite different considering the scenery, as she is wearing a jade green kimono and matching Haori.  Her shoes are platform high heels, fashioned in similar style to the okobo wooden sandals.  In her hair, she has what appears to be fortune cookies surrounding a take out box dripping with pearlesque jewels meant to look like white rice.  She has thick black eyeliner that stretches up the sides of her face.  She thinks she looks cute and very fitting for the occasion, and honey she is ser-ving!  She holds her hands together steeple style as she gently approaches a bench overlooking the small pond.  Sitting there, looking rather pedestrian, is Delia Darling.  She is wearing a white sundress with purple orchid print, and is barefoot.  Her natural chestnut locks flow freely in the hot, humid breeze.  She quietly approaches Delia with her microphone at the ready.  Before she can say a word, Delia sighs softly, turning toward Holly with a faint smile.

Holly:  Domo arigato Mrs. Roboto...

Delia:  Wrong country, darling.

Holly shrugs her shoulders as she waits for Delia to stand up, but she doesn't.  Instead, she assesses Holly's outfit, and gives a weak, yet playful smile.

Delia:  Not just your comment, eis'er.  I s'ink you are a week early, Holly.

Holly:  What?  It's Geisha chic.

Delia:  It's racist is what it is.  Geisha's are Japanese, not Chinese.

Holly:  Chinese, Japanese, dirty knees...

Delia nudges Holly as she looks down to see, in fact, her knees are a little dirty.  Delia's jaw drops as Holly shrugs her shoulders.  Soon, she realizes who she is talking to, and her face sinks some.  Holly rolls her eyes, scoffing as she looks at Delia sternly.

Holly:  So, you must have forgotten that you scheduled an interview with me today considering what you're wearing...

Delia shakes her head in the negative, moaning a little as she adjusts her hand, still in a cast.

Delia:  No... no, I didn't forget.  As a matter of fact, I don't even wish to have an interview today.

Holly scoffs even more loudly this time as she folds her arms across her chest, tapping her feet almost angrily.

Holly:  You're cancelling on me?  Oh no she betta don't!

Delia:  Oh yes, she better did, hunty... You see, I requested you specifically, because I wanted to have a talk wi's you.

Holly:  Oh, and you didn't think calling me and asking would have been better than wasting my time?  Bitch, you got some nerve...

As Holly shakes her head, turning to walk away, Delia gently grabs onto Holly's hand, stopping her.  Holly turn back around to look at Delia, fire in her eyes.

Delia:  Had I asked you to come talk to me, would you have come?

Holly:  Hmmm, well considering the last time I saw you, you and your crew was bashing my face in with mirrors, pink chairs, and your fists, so... probably not...

Delia:  Exactly.  Now you see z'at I had no choice in z'e matter.  I needed to speak wi's you.

Holly laughs at the absurdity of it all as she pulls her hand away from Delia.  She places one hand on her hip, and the other out in front of Delia's face, telling her to talk to the hand.  However, this only lasts all of two seconds before Holly raises her index finger, waving it in front of Delia's face.

Holly:  Will the nerviness never cease?  Gurrrrl, you are so damn lucky that Pussy Willow still refuses to be in the same room as you, and you have that complaint against Scott Oliver for the smell, or I would walk off right now.  Hell, if I did, you would probably put in a complaint against me too and try to get me fired.

Delia's face twists into horror as she gasps.  She shakes her head while repeating the word "no" over and over again.  She tries for Holly's hand once more, but Holly balls her fists up, ready to knock Delia into next week where her outfit apparently belongs.

Delia:  No, I would never...  I know what I did was wrong.  Z'at is exactly why I've asked for you to come here today.  I wanted you to see z'at I have truly changed.  I wanted you to see z'at I feel true remorse for what I've done.  To you... to everyone... except Veronica...

Holly:  Hmmm, Veronica did deserve far worse... But I'm not sure I'm buying this...

Holly runs her finger around the outline of what we can only presume is Delia's body.  She sucks at her teeth as she shakes her head.  Delia lowers her eyes, accepting Holly's read of her.

Holly:  Mmm mmm, not for one second, hunty.  Just because you let yourself go, gained about ten pounds in your ass, it doesn't mean you've changed.  You just became lazy, gurl.  That don't mean shit to me.  I know you too well for that shit.  It's a great merchandising angle, but just because you and Veronica are at each other's throats does NOT suddenly make you a good person.

Delia:  No, it does not.  You're right about z'at part.  Would z'e old me just accept you going off on her?  Would she not pull some bullshit from s'in air just to get under your skin?

Delia pauses, waiting for Holly to answer.  Instead, she just snubs her nose at the question, turning away so Delia can't see her rolling her eyes, but at the same time, hoping she does.  Her wish comes true, as Delia growls in frustration, however it is with herself, and not Holly.  She sighs as a sign of conceding to Holly.

Delia:  If it is your wish to leave, z'en you are free to go.  I won't force you to hear any more from me today...

Delia hopes that saying this will appeal to Holly's overall good nature, but she gets one helluva "Peace out, bitch" as Holly quickly turns on her heels to walk away.  However, her shoe gets stuck in a plank of wood, and she falls backward.  Delia lunges forward to help Holly regain her balance.  Holly wiggles her foot as she winces in pain.  Nothing serious, but it is enough for her to take off her heels, and sit down on the bench next to Delia, keeping some distance though.  Delia respects this as she sighs, watching the gentle waves lapping at the stone, some splashing to the lower level of the square pond.  She takes a sip of water before wiping at some sweat on her forehead.  She lets a minute or two go by, remaining silent, until she feels there is one last thing she must get off her chest.

Delia:  I am no saint, and I doubt I ever will be.  I may not be perfect, but I am doing my best to change for z'e better.

Holly wants to say something negative, but considering Delia very likely just saved her a trip to the hospital, she refrains.  Instead, she joins Delia with staring at the rippling waters.  She quickly finds her place of peace within the waves, remaining quiet for a moment.  Something just seems to click at that moment.

Holly:  People can change, I guess.  But, there is always a part that never will.  This right here?  This is the part that never changed.

Delia:  Look, I said I'm sorry.  I...

Holly:  I'm not talking about that, Delia.  I'm talking about the good that was always there.  The part of yourself that you tried to snuff out the minute you became friends with Angelica.

Holly smirks a little, trying her best to listen to herself and choose to see the good within Delia.  She chuckles as she looks over to Delia, watching the inner beauty glowing in her cheeks with that genuine smile.  Something about this is almost heartwarming.  The way she is just letting herself be... herself.

Holly:  You tried so hard to destroy that humanity because you felt it was weakness.  I guess now you see that it was always your greatest strength.

Delia:  I don't know about z'at...

Holly:  I do.  Everyone has their light, and their dark.  It's a constant fight within themselves, and for the longest time, your darkness was three times the size of your light.  You were bitter, angry at the world.  You were a jaded bitch.  But, even when the dark tried to destroy the much smaller light, it never could.  It's a strength.

Delia shrugs her shoulders, finding the idea of this a little soothing.  She slowly exhales through her nose as she look at the reflection of the sun in the water.

Delia:  Maybe you are right.  I mean, I came here today, because I wanted to apologize, but I also wanted to talk about how badly I am going to beat Z'e Fallen.  I wanted to read Gos'ika and Raynin to fils', like I do every os'er opponent.  But, z'e trus' is z'at I cannot.

Holly:  Oh?  No Twilight jokes?  No manjaw comments?

Delia slowly shakes her head from side to side, her upper lip raising as she, too, seems surprised.

Delia:  Somes'ing about z'is lake is mystical.  It has helped me find a certain inner peace.  One I have not felt in a very long time now.  I find such s'ings to be trivial, now.  Z'e trus' is z'at no matter who wins at Climax Control, z'e SCW World Bombshell Tag Team Championships will be represented well.  Raynin and Gos'ika bos' have World Bombshell Championship reigns to z'eir names.  Z'ey are some of z'e toughest fighters in SCW.  I actually... respect z'em...

Holly:  Kay, where is Delia Darling?  What have you done to her, cause hunty, this is NOT the Delia Darling I know.

Delia:  Girl, please.  I'm trying to be serious here.

Holly:  I know, and that's why I'm getting scared here...

Delia laughs as Holly gets a satisfied smile on her face.  Delia gently ribs her with her elbow.

Delia:  I'm sure z'e feeling is not returned.  I'm sure z'ey still see us as Z'e Mean Girls, no different z'an z'e ones who took z'e titles from z'em in z'e first place.  Probably because, at z'at time, I was no different.  Many people have chosen to write off what Mercy and I are doing, trying to turn over a new leaf, and I wouldn't expect Z'e Fallen to be any different.  However, I do wish z'em z'e best in our match on Sunday.  I really do.

Holly:  It almost sounds like you're giving up.  Please tell me that you're not doing that...

Delia laughs loudly at such an absurd assertion.  She shakes her head from side to side as she bites at her bottom lip.

Delia:  Don't be absurd, darling.  Delia Darling does not give up.  I've been run over by a monster truck.  I've overcome deas'.  I've gone up against z'e toughest of z'is industry.  I love a challenge.  I am not going to give up so easily against Z'e Fallen.  Just because I respect z'em enough not to rip into z'em as if z'ey were nos'ing, does not mean I intend to lose.  Nos'ing could be furs'er from z'e trus'.  Even z'ough I respect Raynin far more z'an any Bombshell to hold z'e World Bombshell Championship since me, I don't intend to let it cloud my judgment.  I don't intend to fight one of z'e biggest, most personal battles of my career, just to lose z'e belts to Z'e Fallen, two women who haven't teamed toges'er in mons'.

Holly:  So, you doubt that they will be able to work together to defeat you and Mercedes on Sunday?

Delia:  No.  I did not say z'is eis'er.  Z'e Fallen are an amazing tag team.  Z'ey are just as fierce toges'er as z'ey are alone.  Z'ey are like a perfect storm, leaving destruction in z'eir wake.  But... Mercy and I did not come all z'is way to get blown to Oz.  Z'is is make or break time for us as a tag team.  It could be our defining moment z'at separates us from every os'er one hit wonder to hold z'ese belts.  I mean, we could eis'er gain notoriety akin to Z'e Fallen, or we could be Metal and Punk Connection, el oh el.

Holly:  There's the bitch within. I was starting to worry about you a bit there.

Holly and Delia share a laugh as Delia takes another slow sip from her water bottle.  Noticing that Holly appears to be parched, she offers the bottle to her without question.  Holly gently accepts, choosing to drop the water into her mouth rather than put her lips to the bottle.

Delia:  I'm sorry if z'e trus' hurts, but Amy can only be blamed due to purposely taking on dead weight in Jessie.  Jessie can't help z'at she sucks so badly.  I mean, she's tried everys'ing, and it just doesn't work... Anyway, z'at is a discussion for anos'er day.  Z'e Fallen better prepare for a fight, because Z'e Anti-Mean Girls are bringing everys'ing we've got.  Hopefully z'ey do z'e same, because I don't want to hear excuses.  Z'e better team will win, and whatever z'e outcome is, I will not complain.  I do wish z'em luck.

Delia smiles as her eyes go back to the pond below.  She takes in a deep, relaxing breath as she watches the ripples from the fish within spreading out.  She seems very much at peace, but Delia Darling is an expert at luring people into believing what she wants them to believe.  There is only one way to know for sure...
[*Fade*]

2
Character Building Roleplays / Behind the Scene: Into the Void IV
« on: June 30, 2015, 11:17:40 PM »
 OOC Note: The following was supposed to be a segment for the show, and does not work for a future show, so read and enjoy \'smile.gif\'


We fade elsewhere inside of the spot Bombshell Tag Team Champions, Mercedes Vargas and Delia Darling, known by some as the Anti-Mean Girls.  They have their titles over their shoulders, as well as authentic hijabs draped modestly over their heads.  Delia is wearing a white one where Mercedes is wearing an aqua one to match their outfits.  They are chit chatting quietly as they approach an open doorway where two guards are standing.</color>



Mercedes: Do you actually think this will work?</color>



Delia: Of course it will, darling.  No one can resist z’e charms of women as stunning as ourselves, no?</color>



Before Mercedes can object any, Delia straightens her posture as she approaches the guards.  Both men are dressed in traditional Arabic clothing from head to toe.  The first guard is the youngest of the two, barely looking a day into his twenties, other than his short but thick beard.  The second guard is a little less of a pretty boy, but gruff in his stance and his burly beard.  They can’t help but notice the tag team champions standing in front of them, and the young guard puffs out his chest to make up for his obvious lack of experience as a guard.</color>



Guard 1: Excuse me, ladies, but you can no enter.  It is off limits to all who are no part of royal family.</color>



Guard 2: Yes, even for women as stunning as yourselves.</color>



He flashes them a rough smile that causes Mercedes to roll her eyes.  Delia, however, bats her eyelashes hopefully as she pretends to stare him up and down.  She bites onto her bottom lip as she then looks down to the ground in disappointment.</color>



Delia: Such a shame, Mercy… Z’ey actually s’ink we came to get inside of z’e luxurious spa behind z’em.</color>



Mercedes: I’m almost insulted, actually. I mean, aren’t we allowed to want to talk to some...</color>



Mercedes nearly gags as she stares at the rougher of the two guards until her eyes land on a much more plausible example of her words to follow as she drinks in the first guard.</color>



Mercedes: … incredibly handsome men?  This seems insulting to me.</color>



Delia: Now, now, Mercy, darling…  I’m sure z’ese men get hit on all z’e time, and we are probably not z’e prettiest of z’e women to bat our eyes at z’em, no?</color>



The guards’ eyes light up as they look to one another, almost seeming to ask if they are dreaming, or if this is really happening.  The first guard, now showing his age and naivety, scratches his head.</color>



Guard 1: What?</color>



Guard 2: Oh, um, he means to say yes.  Women always flirt with us.  Many times a day, actually.</color>



Delia: Yes, I can’t believe you aren’t surrounded by swarms of girls as we speak. I mean, I’m sure many exotic Western women… say from Argentina… or France… fall at your feet?</color>



Mercedes walks up to the second guard, ready to wrap her arm around his neck from behind, but something about him just seems to make her skin crawl.  She scoffs and shakes her head as Delia sulks for a second before switching guards.  They sink into a warm embrace from behind as they sigh in exasperation.  The guards look to one another with wide, toothy grins as the ladies pull away.</color>



Guard 2: You… you two are pretty enough for us.</color>



Guard 1: Barely, but you will do.</color>



Delia scoffs, unbeknownst to the guards, but Mercedes holds her hand out to stop Delia from reacting.  Delia flips her hair as if to throw some silent shade at the guards as Mercedes steps back.</color>



Mercedes: In America, guys usually offer girls drinks when it’s hotter than hell outside.  It’s call chivalry.  My friend and I will guard the doors if you would be so kind as to bring us some water or something?</color>



Guard 2: WOMEN?! GUARDING DOORS?!?</color>



This time, it is Mercedes who looks enraged by such an assertion.  She balls up her fist, ready to show them how well she could guard this door when Delia widens her eyes, stopping Mercedes from doing something hasty.  Mercedes laughs it off as she props her belt up higher on her shoulder.</color>



Mercedes: We are champions, which means we’re pretty good at defending things.  I’m sure we could stay off Ali Baba and the forty thieves for two minutes, right Delia?</color>



Delia: Perhaps not as good as z’e big, strong muscle men wi’s z’e best beards we’ve seen in Dubai… but I’m sure we will do just fine.</color>



The guards quickly converse in Arabic with one another, so Delia and Mercedes have no idea what is being said, until the second guard smacks the first guard’s shoulder, laughing.  They nod their heads as Delia and Mercedes smile widely.  They turn their backs to the door, putting on their best flirty, yet tough chick poses.  The guards lick their lips as they scurry off in search of a drink, any drink.  Delia flexes her good arm, kissing her bicep jokingly.  She and Mercedes stare with their necks stretched out until they are sure the guards are out of sight.  They drop the act, removing the hijabs from their heads to wipe away the sweat forming on their foreheads.</color>



Delia:  Oh s’ank GOD!  I s’ought I was going to have to kiss him for a second.  S’ank you for tossing me over z’e grenade, by z’e way…</color>



Mercedes: If I had to curl up in that one’s arms, I would have blown chunks, and I don’t think that would have been good for our cover.</color>



Delia:  Ugh, whatever… I so need a mineral ba’s after z’e last two weeks...</color>



Delia and Mercedes begin stripping off articles of clothing until they are in bikini’s that cause a catcall to resonate from ringside.  They disappear inside of the room as the splashing in the water can be heard.  A moment later, the guards return with about six bottled waters, and grins from ear to ear.  However, the grins disappear when they don’t see the girls waiting for them at the doorway.  However, one gaze inside of the spa, and their smiles double the original size.  They chuck the waters behind them as they lean against the doorway, watching in complete amazement as we fade elsewhere.</color>


3
Climax Control Archives / Step One
« on: May 28, 2015, 08:13:02 AM »
 "In order to overthrow or decapacitate an evil establishment, you cannot go in with guns blazing.  You cannot go in blinding.  In order to effectively dismantle, you must take certain calculated steps first." -Delia, darling if you must...


S.C.E.N.E. O.N.E. -- Step One: Take Away Their Relevance
LOCALE: Ras Banas, Egypt


The sweltering, humid heat off of the peninsula dipping into the Red Sea is enough to bring most to their knees, or at least to their undergarments.  Not former SCW World Bombshell and Bombshell Roulette Champions, Delia Darling and Mercedes Vargas, respectively.  As we pan along the edge of the beach, we see Delia and Mercedes marching along the bay with stiff postures, their hair tied up under hats as they come closer to the perspective point.  Approaching us, we notice that they are in full US Military fatigues, down to the combat boots.  Delia is carrying a board of some sort while Mercedes has some sort of lightweight metal contraption tucked under her left arm.  Delia comes to a stop just shy of the camera, causing Mercedes to march a half circle around her, turning to face the camera as well. She firmly shakes the metal contraption, causing it to pop out into some sort of stand.  She digs the three legs deep into the sand as Delia places the board onto it securely.

Delia:  HO!

Mercedes:  Um, Delia, we're dressed in Army fatigues, and... well, that's for the Royal Navy, not...

Delia:  Ugh, no... I was referring to Amanda Cortez, of course.  Anyway, Aten-HUT!

Both ladies straighten their posture up as they salute toward the camera, acting as if it were their superior officer for effect.

Delia:  At ease!

They slightly loosen their posture, as per the command, lowering their hands at their sides.  After a moment, Delia turns slightly, having made her point.  She pulls a baton from inside her jacket, flinging the pointing device to full extension.  She taps her foot for a moment until Mercedes takes a deep breath and turns to write a message along the board with a dry erase marker.

Delia:  Now, soldiers... Z'is is war.  No, not one of z'ose lame attempts made by z'e Bombshell locker room for z'e better part of 2014, but a real war...

Mercedes:  I know you're playing commander, but... may I offer you a little bit of advice, Deelz?

Delia:  Z'at is COMMANDER DARLING to you, maggot!  El oh el, sorry, I just had to.  Yes Officer Vargas, please feel free.

Mercedes gives Delia a glare that is part comedic, but also part threatening.  Delia smirks, winking at the closest thing to a best friend she has ever had.  Mercedes breaks her tense glare for a moment.

Mercedes:  You've mentioned to me that you don't understand why our fellow Bombshells enjoy hazing us, and all but mauling us like a pack of grizzly bears... It's comments such as "Not one of z'ose laaaaaaame attempts made by z'e Bombshell locker room... he he he"

Mercedes places her hand over her chest, doing an overly dramatic impression of Delia's French accent, while batting her eyelashes and rolling her eyes.  Delia places a hand on her hip, scoffing at this before flipping the air where her hair normally would be.

Mercedes:  Yeah, that's not going to make our case any better.

Delia:  It was supposed to be tough love.  You know, since I'm a stunningly beautiful Army Commander.

Delia smiles sweetly, taking note of Mercedes pinching the bridge of her nose as she sighs in exasperation.  Delia sighs as well, but coughs on the particles of sand that blow into her mouth.  She spits and sputters for a second, going as far as to gag on it before covering her mouth and bowing politely.

Delia:  I wish we could have done z'is inside of z'e military base of Ras Banas, but apparently you need moderate level military clearances, and American's aren't exactly favored by Egypt at z'e moment...  So, we settled on z'e beach just outside of said base.

Delia nods her head toward the structure to her side.  Off in the distance is a large naval port with a single ship at the docks.  The camera turns back to face the two formal Mean Girls, and Bombshell Tag Champion hopefuls.

Delia:  Now, we're not out here to mock z'e US Military, because z'at is not what we do.

Mercedes holds her index finger up with authority as she stares ahead at the camera, a look as serious as a heart attack upon her face.

Mercedes:  Not anymore!

Delia slowly turns her head at Mercedes, as it must be her turn to do the evil glare.  Mercedes shrugs her shoulders and mouths "Sorry, not sorry."  Delia slowly returns her stare to the camera.

Delia:  It is Memorial Day in z'e United States, so we were hoping to pay tribute to z'e troops who serve our wonderful country, putting z'eir lives on z'e line day in and day out.  America is z'e land of z'e free, and z'e home of z'e brave, according to our national ans'em.  But, it is not wis'out a cost, no?  It is z'e land of z'e free, BECAUSE of z'e brave.  Z'e men and women serving in all branches of z'e military protect us from evil tyrants.

Mercedes:  WE SHOULD ALL JUST STAB CAESAR!

Delia:  Precisely.  Exactly my point... well, sort of.

Delia raises the corner of her mouth as if to say "not even" before taking a stray strand of hair blowing in her face and tucking it behind her ear.

Delia:  As Mercedes has illustrated here, wi's a ras'er... disturbing image of Veronica Taylor, her head lying on z'e ground next to her body... We have devised a plan to take down z'e Mean Girls.  Z'is is our battle plan, Bombshells and fans alike.  You see, we've wisely chosen z'is set up for z'e promotional video because we view z'e Mean Girls as a group of tyrants, terrorists of z'e Bombshells division even.  Z'ey need to be taken down.  On a group based off of a stupid movie...

Mercedes:  It's honestly a future classic.

Delia:  Ugh, right?  Anyway, z'at is besides z'e point.  Z'e group is based off of a movie, and what no one was smart enough to pick up on beforehand... or maybe z'ey just never saw z'e movie?  Whatever z'e case is, z'ere was one weakness embedded in z'e group long before I ever joined.  Everys'ing has an Achilles Heel z'at will take it down.  Z'is metaphoric Achilles Heel comes right out of z'e movie.

Delia smiles almost wickedly as she reaches into her fatigues, pulling out a copy of the movie, though for copyright reasons, it is blurred out.  However, the iconic movie's cover of salmon pink, with four fabulous girls on the cover, is easy to spot to most.  She looks over to it, and her face twists into what can almost be considered a stink face.  She looks back to the camera.

Delia: I mean... it's not like it's even hidden.  It's a key plot point of z'e entire movie.  Janis Ian and Cady Heron, along wi's Damian Leigh... sort of... devised a plan to take down z'e Plastics.  What was z'e first step?

Delia pauses as Mercedes scribes the words "Cut off their resources" on the board, befor quickly drawing and amateur characature of the Bombshell Tag Team Championships.  Delia extends her baton to the board, running it slowly across the words as she begins speaking.

Delia:  Now, traditionally, we should get rid of z'e "man candy" el oh el, but nobody actually cares about Giani Di Luca. I mean, he was so 2013. And Amanda doesn't "do" men, so... We're going to improvise wi's an equally effective plan.  Anyway, our first plan of action is to take away z'e only s'ing z'at Veronica, Angelica, and Amanda have to hold over everyone's heads... Yes, z'e Bombshell Tag Team Championships.  It is z'eir only source of relevancy, z'eir only real resource besides Angelica blowing Mark Ward.

Mercedes looks at her in disgust over what was just said, though she can't argue the truth in it.  Delia looks back at her as if challenging her to argue the point.  When Mercedes remains quiet, Delia turns back to the camera.

Delia:  Unfortunately... once a ho, always a ho.  Sorry bout it, hunties...

Delia leans forward, cupping her hand around her mouth as she whispers.

Delia:  Trademarks of Delia Darling Enterprises, bitches...

With a wink, she removes her hand from her face and lets it rest back at her side, while using her other hand to tap against the board with her baton for emphasis.

Delia:  We can't remedy SCW of z'at disease, but we can take away z'e only tangible resource z'ey have, and we will do so on Sunday.  Mercy and I have experience as a tag team also.  Fortunately for us, our tag experience didn't involve feet on ropes, chairs, running around z'e ring to avoid beat downs, and so on.  And we took down top players.  Now, tag gold is somes'ing completely new to me, but Mercedes here has held z'ose belts twice.  You ladies might have experience in learning to avoid confrontation as a team, but we're experienced in getting legitimate wins as a team.  We know your games, so we'll be prepared for you.  I know you bo's like z'e back of my hand.

Delia looks at the back of her free hand for a moment, before rethinking her comparison.  Upon shrugging her shoulders, she moves on.

Delia:  I don't have to sit here and tear down your generic looks worn by any and all Fashion Week models, because it's so evident.  No, people aren't so vapid z'at z'ey don't already know z'at you couldn't come up wi's an original concept if your life depended on it.  Feel free to call me "ratchet" "busted" and "basic" all day long on Twitter, because I could care less.  My resume speaks for myself, and my originality far exceeds your own.  Unlike you, I am not all bark and no bite.  I bite first and bark later.

Delia bares her teeth as she snaps at the camera, Mercedes chuckling a bit afterward. Delia joins in, though her laugh seems just a bit more sinister.

Delia  And let's not forget your latest insult.  I "had to cheat to win"... How fucking ironic is Z'AT?!?  Z'e logic alone makes me laugh.  Let's touch briefly on z'e fact z'at Amanda and yourself... you s'ought she needed a chair to put me down, because, try wi's all her might, z'is bitch just would not stay down.  Z'e reason z'e chair was in z'e ring in z'e first place was because you, Veronica... you put it z'ere.  You z'en got up and distracted poor Holly while Amanda went to put me down.  If I wasn't a real s'reat, why would Mandy need a chair at all?

Delia runs her fingertips across her neck as if to say "enough of that", shaking her head in disappointment.

Delia:  Eh, no, z'e real paradox of z'e situation is z'at you have z'e nerve to point it out z'at Mercedes knocked Amandy out for trying to cheat.  In essence, yes, it was cheating on my part.  But, it happens when you fight fire wi's fire.  I mean, z'e amount of times I've scored a cheap victory is probably equal to z'e amount of times you've had a fair victory.

Mercedes:  That doesn't make sense considering what happened last night, Deelz.  That would mean they would have needed one clean victory to their name.

Delia:  I can't even right now wi's z'at one. I just can't.  My point is z'at playing dirty is in your repertoire, somes'ing I tried to move away from long ago to avoid complacency.  You use it as a crutch.  Try as you might, but we will be prepared next Sunday.  We know your game, and we are bitches on a mission.  Oh em gee, tag team name?

Mercedes:  No... just, no...

Delia nods her head quickly in understanding before looking back to the camera one last time.

Delia:  Okay... we'll work on z'at later.  Mandy, Ronnie... I would like you to do me one last favor.  For old times sake.  I would like for you two to polish z'ose belts up nicely.  I want you to be able to see your reflections in z'em.  Z'en, I want you ladies to put on your best lipstick.  Apply it generously.  Don't skimp...

Delia pushes her lips out almost seductively as she acts like she is holding a tube of lipstick between her fingers.  She runs it close to her lips in multiple circles before smacking her lips.

Delia:  You two will want to leave some sort of a mark on z'ose belts when you kiss z'em goodbye.  Z'en, I want you bo's to kiss our asses goodbye, because we will embarrass you so badly, you won't want to show your faces around SCW any longer.  All z'e shit you've been talking will be all for naught, coupled wi's z'e fact z'at we will bust your already fucked up mugs so badly, you will wish you had only gotten z'e *air quotes* Delia Darling Treatment, bitches.  See you Sunday, kiss kiss.

Mercedes hits a few free standing jabs to emphasize her words.

Mercedes:  Bang, bang...

Both ladies straighten their postures for a moment before Delia looks straight ahead into nothingness.

Delia:  Stand easy soldiers!

With this, both ladies completely relax their postures before they turn and promptly march out of the picture, leaving us to focus on the board ahead of us.  There are two more numbered spaces available, but both are left blank.  Slowly, the screen begins to go black.
[*Fade*]

4
Climax Control Archives / Judas
« on: May 21, 2015, 08:22:49 AM »
 "Fear is not a weakness unless you allow it to be.  Fear will destroy you.  However, you can remain a burning ember, waiting to be snuffed out, or you can rise from these ashes like a beautiful phoenix." -Delia, darling if you must...


S.C.E.N.E. O.N.E. -- Judas
LOCALE: Paris, France

We come in to see a pair of black Louboutin heels with edgy spikes on the toes clicking against the cobblestone.  Each step is more and more demanding than the last as we leave the cobblestone to the cracked blacktop of historic Paris.  We move up the legs, covered mid calf in tasteful black sheer hose, moving up the milky flesh to a knee length tan khaki skirt, black corset, and white blouse.  Bouncing on the woman's shoulders is a large beauty queen hairstyle indicative of Delia Darling.  She lowers her sunglasses to peer around for a moment as she crosses the street, headed toward the park where she had spent much time in her younger years.  The luscious greenery is in bloom on this sunny spring day, and Delia seems to truly feel at home.  She walks along the path, passing housewives walking their dogs in their best fashions, showing off more than taking in the beauty of the day.  Delia walks around a bend on the path, looking at the flowing geyser fountain.  She watches the fountain for a moment as it seems to mentally wash away her normal demur facade.  A crack in the foundation is as evident as the crack in her black half mask, covering her scars sustained just a few short months ago.  She adjusts it nervously as she gulps.  This was real.  It was really happening.  As soon as this reality washes over her, a masculine hand gently grips her shoulder, causing her to jump.

"Ne craignez pas , ma chérie . Il n'y a que moi...

Delia looks down at the rippling of the fountain, unable to force herself to look into the face of the man standing behind her.  The brutishly charming man gently walks around her, his shaved head covered in a dark stubble that matching his five o'clock shadow nicely.  He flashes a meek smile at her, even though she still doesn't acknowledge him verbally.  He is wearing a white muscle shirt underneath a black and blue flame printed button up shirt, a humble cross hanging from a chain around his neck.  He places his hand under Delia's chin, lifting it slightly as he winds around to look into her eyes.  His dark eyes stare into hers for the slightest of seconds before she jerks her chin from his grasp.

"Ma petite... Maybe I should speak en Anglais to capture your attention, no?"

Delia closes her eyes, her jaw clinched tightly, though her anger is a very faulty cover for the fear bubbling within.  She takes a deep breath and looks into his eyes.

Delia:  Guillaume, I've come to listen, not to speak.  You've gotten my ear, now use it.

Guillaume looks a bit hurt by the way she speaks to him.  He leans in close to her, causing a small gasp to escape her mouth as she jumps back a few inches.  He holds his hands up in surrender as he takes a step backward.

Guillaume:  I do not wish to cause you... discomfort.  I just wanted z'e opportunity to show you how I've missed you... how much you have changed me.

Guillaume nods his head to assure her, but she has not quite taken to this notion.  He purses his lips as he takes a breath through his nose, as he pulls a long black velvet box from his pocket.

Guillaume:  I've gotten you a gift...

He holds the box out toward Delia with a hopeful smile on his face.  Her eyes lower to the box with contempt written across her face.  She narrows her eyes as she folds her arms across her chest in an almost defensive manner.  Guillaume sinks once more as he opens the box to reveal a white gold charm necklace, a pair of white gold angel wings in the center with the words "Mon ange" on them.  He removes the necklace from the box and holds it out for her to see it in the glory of the bursting sun.  He reaches over with his free hand to gently remove her blonde waves from her shoulders as he prepares to wrap the necklace around her neck.  She rips it from his hands, turns around, and tosses it into the fountain, much like a penny into the wishing well.  His heart practically sinks, and anger boils inside of him.

Delia:  You do not get to give me gifts, you fils'y swine!  Your charming lies do not affect me any longer, Gui.  

Guillaume:  Do you have an idea of how many euros z'at necklace cost?

Delia:  Perhaps you should have used it to buy yourself a clue!  I came here to listen to what you had to say, but under z'e condition z'at you not feed me your bullshit!  Clearly you cannot handle z'e terms, so you've made me waste twice as many euro on z'e trip here.  By my estimation, you still owe me.

Guillaume:  You act as if people cannot change, ma...

Delia's eyes flare up as she shoots daggers in his direction.

Delia:  I have not been yours for eight years now, so you do not get to call me "ma" anys'ing!  As a matter of fact, I have come to tell you z'at you no longer hold any power over me.  My days of fearing you are over, and z'at was z'e last emotion z'at ever belonged to you.  I have taken an interest in someone, and I wish to hopefully give z'em all of my emotions.

Guillaume:  When you said you had matters of z'e heart to attend to... you did not wish to get back toges'er?

Delia chuckles, though there is a hint nervousness still present in this.

Delia:  As much as I have hated and feared you, I never took back z'e piece of my heart I gave you nearly a decade ago.  I have been unable to move on.  Maybe it is z'at I have not wanted to move on?  Z'is has now changed.  I will no longer live in z'e shadow of... you.  Wea'ser it be wi's Johnny, or...

This time, it is Guillaume that chuckles.  Delia gives him an irritated questioning look.

Guillaume:  You are leaving me for some in-bred Yankee named "Johnny"?

Delia:  Z'e nerve of you!  A man who courted a girl fifteen years younger z'an him... a pedophile... dares talk of anos'er man's character in such a way?  Z'is proves you have not changed one bit, and z'at I am making z'e right call to leave you, fully.

Delia unfolds her arms as she turns to walk away.  Guillaume grabs onto her wrist, spinning her around as he attempts to pull her into his arms in a romantic display for the ages.  However, Delia rips her arm free and kicks him right in the crotch with her spiked heels.  He practically cries from the pain as he sinks down to one knee.  Adrenaline takes over Delia as she stares down at him.  Through the pain, he gives one final attempt.

Guillaume:  How to you expect people to believe you've changed when you cannot afford me z'e same?!

Delia glares at him for just a moment before she turns to walk away.  She looks straight ahead as if she is on a mission now.

Delia:  Because, unlike you... I actually have changed...

Delia pulls her phone from her pocket and goes through her contacts.  She lands on a picture of SCW's latest signee, Johnny Tsunami, and she presses the dial button.  She places the phone to her ear as she nervously fluffs her hair with her free hand, continuing to walk away as the scene winds down.
[*Fade]



"Be careful what you wish for, because it just might come true.  When you wish for the wrath of Delia Darling, it is not a dream, but a nightmare." -Delia, darling if you must...


S.C.E.N.E. T.W.O. -- You Want War...?
LOCALE: Cathedral of St. Vincent de Paul; Tunis, Tunisia


"Silver and Cold" by AFI begins playing through the speakers, against a totally black screen.  All other sound is drowned out as the screen fades into a foyer with double wooden doors to the left and right.  In the center is a fountain, lightly trickling water from a stone spout on the wall.  We pan around to see Delia walking through the doors.  She is wearing a black dress suit that looks as if she were attending a funeral, sheer black stockings tracing up her thighs to a short but classy skirt.  Her hair is black and done up in a side bun with a bonnet and veil that covers her face.  Her crimson red lips parting as she straightens out her skirt, walking toward the door to the right.  She walks through it, slowly removing her earbuds, causing the music to die down mostly.  She tucks the earbuds away as she turns to a stoup of holy water.  She dips her three inner fingers into it, signing the trinity before bowing her head, clasping her hands together.  She turns around to stare down the aisle at the row of black and red chairs, leading to the never ending line of pews.  Her eyes fall upon the altar, and the art surrounding it.  The sun shines through the vaulted ceiling, as the only true source of light.  The stone pillars leading down the sides of the room of worship seem to bring her closer and closer to the front without her even realizing it.  Before she knows it, she is at the edge of the altar.  In front of a thin wrought iron cross, she genuflects, bowing her head further before standing and turning toward a line of large wooden booths.  She walks over to one of them, entering the darkness.  She sits down on the bench, and opens a door that reveals a screen leading to another seemingly empty booth as the music fades out.

Delia:  Forgive me fas'er, for I have sinned.

Delia pauses as she looks over to the screen.  She reaches into her blouse slightly, pulling out her rosary beads, letting them slip between her fingers for a moment, waiting, only to go unanswered.

Delia:  Before z'is turns into a scene from Easy A, I assume I'm all alone in here... and it is perfectly fine.  I've always felt I have a deeper connection to z'e Lord in private.  I don't need some old man full of rhetoric to tell me you forgive me.  I just need to feel z'at you have...

Delia slowly removes her beads from around her neck, gently wrapping them around her hand in a very traditional manner.

Delia:  I have sinned against my fellow man... many times over z'e last year and a half.  I know violence and brutality is in my job description, but I've been... utterly contemptuous.  I was blind and ignorant to z'e fact. I just s'ought I was defending myself, when I was practically asking for it.  After a year of tormenting, and even encouraging a young man to commit suicide just to fit in wi's my supposed friends... I feel...

Delia purses her lips as her eyes lower to her hand.  She tries her best to fight it, but a deep sob escapes her lips as tears trickle down her chin.  She stumbles for a moment, but picks back up where she was.

Delia:  I feel ashamed of myself.  I've done so, so many despicable s'ings, I couldn't even begin to list z'em all here, but you know.  You know every detail.  I've come here because I seek forgiveness.

Delia sniffles and pulls a tissue from the inner pocket of her dress jacket.  She dabs at her eyes, adjusting her face just enough to ditch the stinging within her cheeks.

Delia:  I know I am supposed to admit to each s'ing I wish to be forgiven for, but unfortunately, I do not seek your forgiveness for my past actions.  I feel it defeats z'e purpose of confession to only go out and repeat z'e same actions.  No, z'is is but a mere promise z'at I shall come and seek repentance.  If I am going to sin, at least I shall use it to become a martyr.  You see, Mean Girls have declared a war on z'e Bombshell division, and z'e Bombshells have answered in a less z'an effective manner.  Being blinded by power, I couldn't see z'e serpants tightening around me, controlling me.  My eyes have opened...

Delia's eyes clinch as she takes a deep breath, pursing her lips.  As she opens her eyes back up, there is a look of anger and conviction.

Delia:  Mean Girls are as z'e girls in z'e locker room call z'em... a disease.  Unfortunately, you can't s'row random pills at an ailment and expect it to go away.  No, you can't hope for a miracle cure.  Sometimes, you have to cut into z'e matter and get to z'e root of z'e problem.  Consider me an x-ray to every broken inner workings of z'e Mean Girls.  Z'ey want war, and I will give it to z'em.  I will be part of a two woman army, and it starts on Sunday, it will all begin...

Delia's eyes lift slightly as she narrows them, looking right into the camera.

Delia:  Amanda Cortez has offered herself up as z'e hero to show Veronica her loyalty.  It shows bravery, and quite honestly, I am impressed.  Oops, sorry Lord... I shouldn't lie in church.  I'm mildly intrigued at best.  Amanda calls everybody and z'eir sister out on Twitter.  Unfortunately, she is but a fool.  She is z'e jester and she doesn't even realize it.  I used her own ignorance to pull her into z'e Mean Girls, so it is my job to take care of her.

Delia nods her head, sure of herself as she clinches the rosary beads between her fingers tightly.  She hisses in a deep breath of conviction before continuing.

Delia: I've created z'is monster, so I must be z'e one to defeat it.  I am z'e one who unleashed z'e Mean Girls on z'e world, but I am personally responsible for Amanda Cortez.  Hopefully by my taking her down, z'e girls in z'e locker room will see exactly how sorry I truly am for everys'ing I've done.  I know it is only z'e beginning, but one has to start somewhere, no?

Delia sighs as she loosens up a bit.  She rests her eyes on the beads between her fingers, gently sliding each bead between them as she pauses for a moment.

Delia:  Amanda is a pest.  She is a sickness, and I have no option but to put her down.  She is a walking pestulance, and I will not let her off z'e hook so easily.  She s'inks she will walk right over me wi'sout any problem, but do you know who else s'ought it would be so simple?  Misty... Necra Octavian Kaine... Amy Marshall... Roxi Johnson... practically every person I've faced over z'e last year and s'ree mon's.  Why should I expect z'e biggest idiot of Sin City Wrestling to be any different.  She reminds me of a Nicki Minaj song... "Starships"?  No... "Anaconda"?  Bitch please... I have her beat in z'e rear view, darling...  Why, isn't it obvious?  "Stupid Hoe"...  She could have accepted z'e mercy I was kind enough to grant her, being a good Cas'olic girl.  She could have just stepped aside when we decided to part ways, but no.  She couldn't do z'at, and it is why she has to be z'e dumbest Bombshell to ever grace z'e roster, and z'ey've employed Liz Smalls... sorry, Lizzy...

Delia bows her head in regret for having to go there, almost as if giving an immediate apology to Liz for this.  She then lifts her head to look back into the camera.

Delia:  Mercedes and I gave Veronica what she wanted.  We gave her control of Mean Girls.  We allowed her to take control of z'e ship to inevitably crash it into an iceberg and sink z'at it.  But neis'er of z'em could accept z'at.  Z'ey have taken one of my golden rules, targeting z'eir biggest competition to take z'em out.  Sadly, z'ey are way out of z'eir league on z'is one, because... Delia Darling? Mercedes Vargas?  Need I say more?

Delia lets out an arrogant laugh, though she quickly tries to stifle it by placing a hand over her mouth.  She quickly recomposes herself as she looks over toward the screen to her side.

Delia:  My point is z'at we bowed out gracefully, leaving z'em to have z'eir fun wi'sout taking part in it any longer.  Z'at wasn't enough as Veronica and Amanda decided z'ey wanted to take away my runway.  Z'e one I paid for?  Z'ey insist on using my taglines?  Enough is enough!  I can only turn z'e os'er cheek so many times.  I mean, I'm not Jesus...  Now, before Mercy and I really stick to z'is war, I am going to give Veronica and Amanda one last warning... "Back off bitches!"  Accept your defeat on Sunday, and maybe I can talk Mercy into calling it even.  But...

Delia holds her index finger up very pointedly as she glares into the camera, pausing silently for dramatic effect.  She purses her lips for a moment before licking at her bottom teeth, savoring the moment.

Delia:  But, if Veronica or Angelica so much as sticks z'eir nose into z'is match, it will go from a mere punishment, to all out attricion.  Amanda, I would advise you to spread z'e warning to your sisters, because if Veronica so much as sticks a finger inside of z'e ring to tickle me... it's going beyond, hunty...  Grow a pair of lady balls, Amanda, because you do not want to truly see my bad side.  It's all fun and games when you watch it happen to os'ers, but I assure... you will not be laughing.  Z'is is not some tickle fest as you might s'ink, Mandy.  Z'is is real.  Real anger.  Real violence.  Real betrayal.  It's like a Catfight Cocktail, a murderous moltov of bitchiness just waiting to explode.  See, you will bleed, Mandy.  Z'at is a guarantee.  However, you can accept it z'is once, or you can truly get on my bad side, and we can make it a regular s'ing.  You know I am good for my word, deep down.  I will leave z'e decision to you... meaning Veronica, since she s'inks for you.  Let's just hope she makes z'e right one, because it really would be a shame to see everys'ing I created go to a total waste...  Sorry bout it...

Delia smirks almost wickedly, letting out a slight chuckle as she neatly stands up from her seat.  She un folds her hands from over her lap as she stretches out.  She seems as if a weight has been lifted from her shoulders, despite not having a true confession.  She presses her hand against the wooden door, ready to leave before she gasps.

Delia:  How perfectly impolite of me... in z'e name of z'e Fas'er, of z'e Son, and of z'e Holy Spirit... Amen.

Delia signs the Trinity in correspondence with her words.  She does a polite curtsy before opening the door.  Light floods the once dimly lit confessional as she slowly exits.  As the door slams, we see a hand touch at the screen from the other side.  Peeking through the screen in confusion, there is a priest.

Man:  What... what is a hunty?

He slowly shakes his head as he ponders what has just taken place in his confessional booth.  He slowly retracts his hand from the screen, disappearing back into the shadows.  We pause for a moment inside of the confessional before the screen slowly goes back to black.
[*Fade*]

5
Climax Control Archives / Step It Up Bitches!
« on: April 17, 2015, 09:38:01 AM »
 "Thinking outside of the box is not insanity.  Insanity is doing the same thing, over... and over... and over... and over again, and expecting different results." -Delia, darling if you must...


S.C.E.N.E. O.N.E. -- Step It Up Bitches
LOCALE: La Rollerie, Madrid, Spain


The streets of Madrid are alive in the very mild weather, the sun shines down upon the many tourists as they walk along the Calle de Atocha, taking in the beautiful spring day.  There is one man wearing a khaki colored floppy hat along with dark shades that reflect the brightness of the sun.  He is slender in build, but tall in stature.  He is extra clean shaven, almost unbelievably smooth appearing from the gleam on his face.  He is wearing a plain skyblue t-shirt and khaki shorts with black shell toe ADIDAS shoes.  No matter what time he is from, he is one giant fashion faux pas.  His black leather man bag doesn't do him any justice, but he looks no worse than many of those surrounding him.  He has his cell phone in his hand, looking down at it as he looks across the street.  He sees a white table with matching chairs in front of a large glass window that says "La Rollerie" in cute cursive lettering.  He double checks his phone, and then shrugs his shoulders as he jogs across the street at his earliest convenience.  He walks past the table, checking out a couple of women in sun hats.  They glance up at him, and share a friendly laugh as they admire him, despite his choice in clothing.  They speak in their native tongue, which practically goes over his head.  He places two fingers against his forehead, saluting them with a half smile before he walks into the door... literally.  He crashes against the glass, thudding backward.  This causes the girls to laugh a little louder as they return to their own conversation as if he'd disappeared into thin air.  The man rubs his forehead, shaking it off as he lifts the shades up to reveal a pair of snarky looking glasses.  He opens the door and enters inside of the bright, naturally lit cafe.  He looks around for a second before walking up to the counter.  He looks inside of the pastry display, debating for a moment.  A woman walks up to him on the other side of the counter, with a high pitched voice, she speaks with a light Spanish accent.

Woman:  Welcome to La Rollerie. What can I get for you this morning?

Man:  I...

Delia:  He'll take z'e lemon cupcake... and a ham and cheese toasted bagel.

Delia wraps around in front of him, looking him up and down to make sure she's made the right call.  Without even letting him respond, she turns to the woman and pulls out her wallet from her silver handbag.  She slides a few euros across the counter and the woman puts a smile on her face.

Man:  How...?

Delia:  What can I say?  I am so good wi's people...

The man snorts a bit with a light laugh, which causes Delia to sour immediately.  She grabs the cupcake from in front of him, and she takes a bite from it before placing it back down.  She licks at her lips to emphasize how delicious it is before rolls her eyes and spitting it into a napkin.

Man:  Well, that's just... rude?  It definitely wasn't nice.

Delia shrugs her shoulders as she disposes of the napkin in a waste basket before walking toward a set up steps with black wrought iron railing.  The man picks up his sandwich, leaving the partial cupcake in his wake.  He slowly follows after Delia who is seated at a small table next to the balcony area, with a bottle of Fiji water in front of her.  He pulls out the chair opposite of her and takes a seat, silent at first, waiting for Delia to speak.  When she doesn't, he sighs and places his bag on the table next to his sandwich.  He takes a second to drink in her beauty, her hair like deep, rich gold strands that seem to bob in a non-existent breeze, almost taking the attention away from her white half mask that covers her forehead and the left side of her face.  Her simple white sundress and pearls give a calming effect, despite this Bombshell's reputation.  Once he is able to break his trance, he clears his throat.

Man:  So, you are staying in Madrid?  Isn't the Sin City Wrestling show in Malaga?

Delia scoffs at this, as if to say she shouldn't even need to answer such a question with words.  For a second, she even wonders if he is being rhetorical, but ultimately settles on the fact that he is serious.  She doesn't peel her eyes off of the sidewalks outside, busy with pedestrians.

Man:  I certainly do hope you don't respond to all of my questions this way, otherwise it might make for a boring interview.

Delia:  Yes, well we get what we give, no?

Man:  Then give me something.  Make it so I don't regret ditching one of the biggest stories of my career to come to some small cafe in Madrid to talk to a condescending bitch.

Delia winks, forcing a sweet smile onto her face, but anyone who truly knows her, knows that wickedness is bubbling underneath her.  We hear a chair scoot heavily across the floor, and the man turns to the direction of the noise to see Mad Maxxine getting up from her seat.  She is in no mood for warnings today, but Delia waves her down as she turns to face the man for the first time since they've seated.

Delia:  Yes, z'e woman up front did not sound convincing when asking what you would like, was she...?  Look, z'ere is no story bigger z'an Delia Darling Candid.  You are like Doros'y Gale, getting a peek behind z'e curtain at z'e wizard.

Man:  So, what you're saying is that the big head you carry around is just an illusion, put up as a front to cover up the fact that you are a powerless coward with just a smidge more intelligence than most others?

Delia:  Ohhhh... Z'at is one trait I never would have expected from you.  Usually z'e gays are better dressed, especially in Europe.

He looks confused and insulted at the same time as he looks up at Delia, while messing around with a tape recorder.  He sets it on the center of the table, recording their conversation.

Man:  Sin City Wrestling, Delia Darling Interview, April 15th, 2015... No, I am not gay.  I think my last girlfriend can atest to that.

Delia:  How long ago was z'at?  Z'e second grade?  I don't s'ink your knowledge of cinema is a real panty dropper, darling.

Man:  Hey, hey, hey... I ask the questions here.  Just sit there and look like a cunt faced witch monster.

Delia's jaw drops open.  I mean, how could someone who looked like that talk to her this way?  She was used to it from the trailer trash in SCW, but this man was supposed to be a professional.  He had 300,000 plus followers on Twitter for his Independent Wrestling e-zine article alone.

Man:  Ha, I got you there.  You're really pretty.

Delia snaps out of her anger spell and smiles lightly as she looks over at him in appreciation.

Delia:  S'anks... I...

Man:  So you agree?  You think you're really pretty?

Delia:  No, I...

The man lets out a growling sort of laugh to enforce his sarcasm.  Delia thinks on it for a second before her face lightens up.  She points at him and nods her head to let him know she's picked up on his witty quote.  She reaches down and picks up her water bottle, taking a sip.  She purses her lips as she stares at this awkward, nerdy guy sitting across from her, trying to maintain the illusion, but it cracks just slightly as she smiles.  But, that could be from the very obvious spot of mayonaise and ham hanging from the corner of his mouth.

Delia:  Well, um... I have chosen to stay in Madrid for z'e week, because I have close friends who live here, back from my modeling days.  Wi's z'e mask, I... I don't do z'is any longer.  Luckily not all models are, as you elegantly put it, *air qotes* cunt faced witch monsters like myself... Some of z'em are just as beautiful on z'e inside as z'ey are on z'e outside.  Plus, it... it's only a two and a half hour ride on z'e train to Malaga, so it still works.

The man reaches down and picks up a napkin, wiping at the corner of his mouth.  He rids himself of the mayonaise, but somehow doesn't notice the large piece of ham still dangling there.  Delia licks at her lip to stop herself from saying anything.

Man:  Mmm, so your mask brings up a plethora of obvious questions.  How did it feel to see the end of your main source of income, your modeling gig?  How are you going to get revenge...

Delia:  We got revenge already.  I ruined her face pretty good.  You just can't tell because she was already like totally busted... El oh el.

Man:  See, if someone were to break my hands, ending my beloved career, I don't think I would be happy with just breaking their hands.  I would want to make their life a living hell.  Maybe I'm just a sadistic prick like that, but I would.  I would do everything in my power to bring them down to my level of misery.  I would let the flames of my vengeance flicker against their skin slowly.  I mean, I know you called her out last week, right?  But that seemed more like you were doing it to prove a point to the other Bombshells than it was to exact revenge.

Delia takes a breath to respond, but she can't really deny this, as much as she would like to.  She simply forces a momentary half smile onto her face before looking down to the condensation dripping from her bottled water.

Man:  Speaking of, you've got a match against Twisted Sister and her old tag team partner, Iron Maiden.  Give us the deets.

Delia:  Ugh, nobody says z'is anymore.  "Deets" makes me s'ink of cheap bug repellant.  As far as Dee Snider and Bruce Dickinson here, z'ey don't stand a chance.  I could choose any Mean Girl, and we would be victorious, even wi's one hand tied behind our backs.  I could take Angelica, and we could beat z'ese losers.  I mean, even Jessie Failed-Abortion Salco defeated her.  Jessie is like...

Delia leans in to whisper so that the recorder might not pick up what she's about to say, even though she knows it will.

Delia: ... half retarded.  No, not like "just kind of stupid" retarded, but like... "retarded" retarded.  I s'ink it had somes'ing to do wi's her bir's mos'ers attempt at trying to abort her wi's z'e saline solution.  I mean, yeah, it's quick and more humane, and much less scary z'an a coat hanger, but... obviously not as fail proof.  Not to be mean, but Jessie Salco is like z'e worst wrestler in history.  I was scared of her at first, but z'en Angelica told me z'at I was reading her win-loss record wrong.  I had it backwards...  Z'en I understood why everyone else laughed at her, and I felt bad for her, you know?  I mean, she's retarded, right?  Z'at is not right to make fun of z'e retarded.  I took a different approach, and I tried to be nice to her, but because I'm pretty and stuff?  She assumes I'm an airhead generic Barbie doll.  I mean, she's retarded right?  I tried to spell it out for her, because she's z'e kind of retarded who doesn't realize it.  She was a paycheck to her foster family, so she did not receive help to be less retarded.  Looking back, I do feel sorry for not making her understand in a nicer way, but...

Delia shrugs.  The man in front of her has his jaw gaped open, finally allowing the piece of ham to fall down to the plate.  His fingers are outstretched, and a light funk causes Delia to look underneath the table to see his shoe and sock off, and all of his toes curled up except for his big toe.

Man:  Wow, I've never heard someone call another person retarded so many times in one entire conversation, let alone like three minutes, as you just did.  What does that have to do with...

Delia:  Oh, right... You see, if someone as handicapped as Jessie Salco can defeat Twisted Sister, z'en I will have no trouble handling z'e pair of z'em.  Because she must be full retarded.  It's z'e only explanation how Half-Retarded Jessie Failed-Abortion Salco... her legal name by z's way... beat someone wi'sout a tag team partner to carry her on z'eir back, no?  Sometimes z'e simplest explanations are z'e only explanation, and Twisted Sister is as simple as z'ey come.  I can only assume her partner is no different.

Man: Well, the last time you assumed something, you wound up on your back for a three count, and you lost your Wolrd Bombshell Championship to Amy Marshall.

Delia:  Yes, a fluke proven when Raynin unseated her immediately.  Not to mention, she got by wi's a little help from my old friend, Holly Wood.  You certainly cannot be snowed like z'e rest of z'ese ladies.  If SCW knows what is best for z'em, Holly Wood will not be allowed near z'e ring for z'is match.

The man picks up the stray piece of ham, nibbling on it in a manner that almost makes Delia's stomach churn.  He swallows and then points out to her for emphasis.

Man:  Holly Wood.  Great topic.  Is she single?

Delia chuckles in a confused manner as the man stares at her curiously.  She tries to think of how to respond to this, but stumbles on her words.  The man looks a little disappointed as he lowers his eyes, and his finger.

Man:  Kidding.  If i was going to go for a drag queen, I'd go for one with a vagina such as yourself.

Delia:  Oh, in your dreams, darling!

Man:  The deepest, darkest, wettest ones... I assure.

He winks, having used one of Delia's catchphrases against her.  There is a blush tone to her cheek, but the coldness battles it bitterly.  Before she can retort, he lifts his gaze through those awful nerdy glasses.

Man:  Now, before I go too far off topic, fans of Sin City Wrestling are wondering about your match.  Iron Maiden is confirmed to be teaming with Twisted Sister, but people are flinging so many different theories around the web about who your partner will be.  Any official word on who you will be teaming with?

Delia:  Yes.  I will have a partner, even z'ough I feel I do not need one.  Mark Ward has been very kind to me lately, and he seems to s'ink z'at I need back up, so I will humor him z'is week wi's one.

Man: Ohhhh-kay?

Delia stares at him as if she is waiting for him to ask the next question.  For obvious reasons, he stalls.  Delia reads his body language, seeing he wants more, and she simply rolls her eyes.

Delia:  Must you journalist types always ruin z'e surprise of everys'ing?  I really wanted to shock everyone, but I've talked wi's Jessie Salco, and she will be by my side...

Man: ...

A series of dumbfounded noises escape his throat as Delia sighs, lowering her gaze.  He tries to find the words to express his utter shock and confusion, but the series of sounds continues to diversify.  Delia looks up and winks with a hearty, deep chuckle.

Delia:  Ohhhh, get serious man!  I am kidding.  If I wanted a handicap, I would have agreed to tie my hands behind my back or somesing...  She's mentally challenged for crying out loud!  I assure you z'at my partner will not hold me down.  All I will say is z'at she hyas proven her wor's to me, and we're close as sisters.

Man:  So, it's a Mean Girl?

Delia shrugs her shoulders, smirking as if to say such a thing goes without saying.

Man:  Is it Mercedes?  You two have a brief history of teaming together, and a successful one at that.  Or could it be Amanda Cortez?  Veronica Taylor?  Oh!  Will we be seeing the in-ring return of Angelica?

Delia:  You will have to wait and see just like everyone else, darling...  Rest assure z'at we will not disappoint.

Man:  That's not fair.  I travelled all the way to Spain to sit down with you, and you can't give me even just a little more than that?

Delia winks and shakes her head from side to side, pursing her lips.  She runs her fingers across her lip as if she were zipping them, locking them, and then throwing away the key.  The man sighs in frustration and then looks down to his notes.

Man:  Well, that's all I have for you today.  Is there anything else you would like to say?

Delia:  As a matter of fact, yes.  I enjoy giving people their fifteen minutes every now and z'en.  Just a few days ago, we heard yet anos'er declaration of war on z'e Mean Girls.  Ugh, yawn bitches...  How many times must we prove z'at we are better z'an any girl on z'e roster?  Shy of a single hiccup at Blaze of Glory, we have proven it over and over again.  We've proven we are z'e hardest working ladies in z'e business.

Man:  That seems a little biased, doesn't it, Ms. Darling?

Delia looks up, disgust in her eyes as she simply stares at him for a moment.  She licks her bottom lip for a second before placing her hands on the table.  She laces her fingers together and then leans in closer to the tape recorder.

Delia:  Does it?  Does it really?  Let me ask you somes'ing, assuming you pay close attention to Sin City Wrestling programming.  Name one Bombshell z'at shows up just about every week, taking little or no breaks.  Name one for me who makes z'eir presence felt, even when z'ey are not contractually obligated to show up.  Who held championships until, frankly, z'ey got bored of z'em and passed z'em along?  Who commands air time every week wi'sout fail?

Man:  Well...

Delia:  I can name four ladies who go above and beyond, week in, and week out.  Amanda Cortez, Veronica Taylor, Mercedes Vargas, and Delia Darling.  Some of our mes'ods might not be z'e most honest at times, but we've proven we are more z'an capable of winning cleanly.  Mark Ward knows we are money in his pocket.  He was quick to back us from z'e very beginning... well, z'e beginning z'at matters, when I relaunched Mean Girls.  He did so, because he sees our work es'ic, and any bitch z'at denies we work our asses off is obviously blinded by z'eir own failure to do so.  Sorry bout it.

Man:  Are you saying you ladies work harder than everyone else?

Delia slowly nods her head with an arrogant smirk on her face.

Delia:  It is exactly what I'm saying.  Now, you will hear me say z'is once, and only once.  Amy Marshall is z'e only current Bombshell who is not a Mean Girl who knows how to make her presence known.  It stung a little less knowing someone who is not lazy took my belt from me, albeit as unfair as it was.  I'd take z'at loss over a fluke loss to z'e likes of Jessie Salco or Raynin.  You see, it is people such as Mean Girls and Amy Marshall who saved a floundering division.  Wi's z'e loss of Odette Stevens and Vixen, z'e Bombshell Division was as dead as z'e New X-Tremes stable, and it was being kicked like z'e dead horse it was.  We looked around and we waited for people to step up and save it.  We went out of our way to spark a fire wi's every bombshell in SCW, and nobody gave a shit!  Not one single lady cared.  Not a fucking one!

Man:  You actually believe your stable saved the Bombshell Division?

Delia:  Take a look at z'e ratings.  Odette's fairweas'er dedication, and Misty obviously being worked to dea's carrying z'e division for two and a half years, it left only Vixen as z'e crown jewel.  She was supposed to lead people, but you can't lead a pack of retarded banshees on z'e rag wi's kindness.  We had one spark when Amy Marshall and myself had a feud.  She had fight in her.  We brought attention to z'e division.  When I was done wi's her, I set my sights on z'e top, and in a few short mon's I knocked Vixen off of her pedestal.  I led z'e division wi's an iron fist, and still... nos'ing!  We showed tough love, and if people weren't going to come after us, we would take it to z'em.  Champions who picked on z'e challengers was a refreshing change.  We even pulled talents in just because of how fucking fab and fierce we were, men and women.  We got SCW ranked on many indy rankings.  Girls like to see z'e worst in us, but z'ey should pay respect to z'e only fucking reason z'ey still have a job.  Z'ey should show respect to z'e ladies who put Bombshells back on z'e map, and in Main Event matches, instead of being a tits and ass division meant for piss breaks and wet dreams for teenage boys.  Deny it all you want ladies, but z'ose are z'e plain and simple facts.  Check your SCW history books.  Ask your bosses why we have not been fired.  It is not blowjobs and bareback bull rides.  Z'at is for you whores.  We do what we want because we are z'e reason z'e Bombshell Division exists any longer.  Instead of declaring pointless wars on us, do somes'ing z'at matters for a change.  Sorry, not sorry...

The man nods his head as his tape recorder clicks off.  He look shocked and mutters a curse under his breath.  Delia licks at the front of her teeth, feeling satisfied enough.  The man looks apologetically at Delia.

Man:  So sorry, Ms. Darling.  I guess I should have put in a fresh tape for this. I forgot how poignantly spoken you are.

Delia:  It's a talent... I do hope you don't make me appear to be too big of a bitch when you transfer z'at to writing.

Man:  No worse than you deserve, Ms. Darling.

Delia:  Ah-ha, touche.

Delia winks as she picks up her bottle of water, pressing it to her lips.  She takes a sip, refreshing herself.  She seems to catch a different sort of glimpse of the man, and she taps her chin for a moment in contemplation.

Delia:  You know... Cal, was it?  Have you ever tried pushing your hair back?

Delia reaches across the table, pushing his hat off, and feathering his hair back.  She giggles in a bit of a playful manner  as the scene comes to an end.
[*Fade*]

6
Climax Control Archives / Life Support
« on: March 20, 2015, 01:57:14 PM »
 The Fallout
Copenhagen, Denmark; Post Blaze of Glory IV</color>

The crowd is still roaring in approval after Delia Darling's first loss.  Yep, you heard it right.  She... lost!  I know it sounds impossible, but whatevs... The point is that she got pinned, and no longer has her title.  Obviously, she is furious.  After a wonderful rendition of the classic Steam song "Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Him Goodbye", Delia might possibly have steam shooting out of her ears and nostrils.  As she walks backstage, she is met by the Mean Girls, headed by a hopeful Angelica, holding her arms out for a hug.  Instead, Delia shoves Angelica out of the way as she lets out an ear shattering shriek.  She knocks over a few lights set up near the entrance before ripping some cords off of the wall.  She whips them around wildly, barely missing her friends and a few stagehands.  Security comes shortly after her, making sure Delia keeps her distance from Amy, but now they are more concerned for SCW's equipment as Delia is going to town knocking things over while throwing her tantrum.

Delia:  No, no, no, no, NO NO NOOOOOOOOO!

Delia pays them no mind as she begins storming down the hallway.  She flips over the catering table, spilling punch and snacks all over the floor as she moves on, looking for more mayhem to unleash.  She walks right up to a stagehand and rips his clipboard from his hand.  She flings the papers behind her before beating the poor guy over the head with it.

Delia:  STUPID, STUPID, STUPIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIID!!!

Security catches up to her and they grab onto her arms, holding her back as the poor geeky looking stagehand adjusts his glasses and stares at her wide-eyed.  Delia kicks her legs back, trying her best to kick the guards so that she can break free, but they are prepared in their stance.  She whips out of their grip and spin around as she huffs and puffs.

Delia:  Don't FUCKING touch me again, or I will have your BALLS on my mantle in a New York minute...

Security 1:  Ms. Darling, if you don't calm down, we're going to have no choice but to ask you to...

Delia:  I will NOT leave until I have been given back my property.  If you wish to go after a criminal, why don't you go after z'e woman z'at stole my title from me like two seconds ago?!

Security 2:  She defea...

As Delia's eyes go wide, and threats of more mayhem are silently made, Angelica steps between Delia and the security.  She gives them a sweet smile, something that is rarely seen from one of the founding members of the Mean Girls, and she holds a hand up as a sign of peace.  She turns to Delia and gently holds onto her shoulders.

Angelica:  We need to get you to the nurse to get those wounds taken care of.  If they aren't properly cleaned and exfoliated soon... they might...

Angelica looks around before holding a hand up in front of her mouth, so that any deaf person in the general vicinity wouldn't be able to read her lips.  She gets very secretive as she leans in against Delia's ear.

Angelica: ... scar...

As she pulls away, her face shows worry and disgust all at the same time.  The threat of a scar seems to catch Delia's attention and she does her best to bottle up her anger.  She bites onto her bottom lip as Angelica strikes while the iron is hot.  She walks with Delia down the hallway as Veronica is seen behind them.  She is clearly seething but trying her best to keep quiet with her boyfriend, Giani Di Luca, following closely behind her with his arm around her waist.  Amanda doesn't seem thrilled, but she's a bright sunshine day compared to her fellow stable mates.  Mercedes hides her anger the best as she follows closely behind, but there is a clear elephant in the room, and tensions are thick enough to cut with a knife.  As they reach the nurses station, Angelica opens the door and lets Delia in first.  The rest file in after her for support.

Giani:  Ey, you want me to wait outside er somethin'?

Angelica:  Ugh, it's not like they're going to give her a pap smear or something...

Veronica:  He's just trying to be nice.

Delia:  Yes, well z'at would be a first, no?

Mercedes:  Unless you count the time he was pretending to be nice, only to turn on Equinox...

Amanda:  Who?

Angelica:  As if it even matters!  Giani, get us some waters or something...

Giani's eyes widen as he simply laughs at this request.  Angelica takes a step forward as he folds his arms over his chest.

Giani:  Whadda I look like, ya slave?  I ain't tucking my balls to my ass and puttin' couch cushions in a bra.  I ain't in ya posse.

Angelica:  Well I don't want to see your busted face right now, kay?

Veronica:  Angie, I suggest you back off.  You act like you're the one who got robbed out there tonight.

Angelica:  No, I'm acting like I lost... wait, I'm not acting, because I did lose.  Four fricken times!  Every time you losers lose a fucking match...

Delia:  EEEEEEEEEEEEEENOUUUUUUUUUUUUUGHHHHH!

Delia growls, letting it linger in a dominant tone.  She rubs her temples as she begins doing breathing exercises to calm herself quickly.  After a second, with all eyes on her, she stands up and walks over to the door.  She opens it and motions for everyone to leave.  Mercedes kindly obliges, with Amanda contemplating trying to stay behind with her closest friend in the Mean Girls.  However, the look on Delia's face says otherwise.  Angelica taps her foot as she looks at Delia.  However, Delia doesn't budge, nodding her head as if to let Angelica know that this is also for her.  They engage in a stare down for a moment before Angelica flips her hair.

Angelica:  Whatever...

Angelica scoffs and then she walks out of the room.  Veronica gives Angelica time to walk out as the two have had their first ever almost argument.  She starts to walk out, but Delia holds her arm out for a second.

Delia:  You and I have not always seen eye to eye... but out of everyone in z'is room... I s'ink you and I are on z'e exact same level... Let's talk later...

A wicked smile comes over Veronica's face, cutting through the annoyed expression that was there mere seconds ago.  She nods her head and then reaches her hand back for Giani's.  He doesn't take it right away, but when he does, he brings her hand up to his lips, kissing it softly, bringing a bit of a blush to Veronica's face.

Giani:  Babe, gimme a second in here.  I'll be right out.

Veronica:  Just come on.  I don't think Delia wants to be bothered right now.

Giani:  It ain't nothin' bad, I promise.

Veronica nods as Delia places her hands on her hips, giving Veronica  glare that begs her to have him follow her out.  However, she walks out of the room and closes the door behind her.  Delia rolls her eyes and walks across the room, sitting down on the medical bed.  She laces her fingers together as she refuses to look at Giani.  Giani, however, walks closer to Delia, standing in front of her as if beckoning for her to look up at him.

Giani:  It ain't the end of the world, dollface...

Delia:  It's just some stupid piece of leather and gold z'at never matched a single outfit I've ever created.  It's hideous... but it's mine.  It's like z'e time I lost my six's favorite earring.  It sucks, but I will live.

Giani nods his head as Delia's scornful eyes search past Giani, beyond the door, as if she were trying to visualize hurting someone.  A good bet would be Veronica, for not pulling Giani out of the room, but at this point, almost anyone would do.  Giani turns and sits down on the bed next to Delia, keeping a safe distance from the natural brunette.

Giani:  It's aw'right.  I been there before, Deelz.  I know what ya goin' thr...

Giani goes to place a friendly hand on Delia's shoulder, but she immediately deflects it, brushing it aside as annoyance comes back over her face.  She twitches as if to tell him to never touch her again.

Delia:  You know nos'ing, Giani.  You never went over one year wi'sout being defeated.  You never held a title for six mon's.  When you did lose your belt, you lost it properly.  I was robbed by a jealous he-bitch who, as you so delicately stated earlier, tucks his balls to his ass, who wears stuff from like four seasons ago.  Ugh, does she even realize stripes make her look fat?

Giani isn't quite sure how to respond to the latter portion of that as his eyes widen slightly.  He tries not to be too obvious, but his jaw hanging slightly ajar gives him away as Delia shakes her head, returning to her cold demeanor.

Giani:  I know we ain't never been friends.  I mean, I checked out ya ass a couple times back in the day, but that's about as friendly as we ever got.

Delia:  I am not, and will never be some piece of... meat, which you can drool over.

Giani:  That ain't my point here, Deelz.  Look, believe it or not, I fell for ya friend.  V is my... how do I say this without soundin' like a fa....

Delia jabs him in the stomach, cutting him off.  He brushes it off, but takes note of the gesture.

Giani:  I care about Veronica.  A lot.  What's important to her, is important to me.  You girls is what's important to her.  Not just the branding, but you as people. That kinda means I gotta give a damn about ya's too.

Delia:  Oh please... save z'e bullshit for when Ronnie is in here.  At least z'en, it might have some sort of effect...

Giani:  It ain't bullshit.  If it was just about the sex, I wouldn't put myself out there for her the way I do.  I wouldn't-uh put my career on hold to support her.  Do ya know what I left behind for her?  Everythin' I did since before my return to SCW, was for her.

Delia sneers as she shakes her head.  She is clearly holding something back, which is a new experience for her.  She looks down, and he senses exactly what she's thinking.  However, he does his best to veer back onto the original topic.

Giani:  Look, the point is that you might be doin' a good job of bottlin' up that anger inside.  I mean, after ya took out half of the backstage area... but I ain't buyin' that ya suddenly calmed down.

Delia places her hands on her knees, gently rubbing them out of necessity to keep them occupied.  She keeps her eyes focused on the floor for a second before looking up with a shockingly sweet expression on her face.

Delia:  No.  I'm fine.  Injustices happen every day.  Mean Girls will be finished, and z'e Bombshell division will return to shit.  It's okay, we've had a great run...

Delia chuckles kindly as she reaches up and places a hand on Giani's face.  Her kindness almost comes as a shock.  Giani pulls away, giving her an odd expression, not sure if she is coming onto him.

Giani:  Uhhhhmmm...

Delia retracts her hand and rolls her eyes.

Delia:  Don't flatter yourself, darling... Despite what everyone keeps saying, I am not a whore.  I am not a slut.  But, none of it will matter, because I'm sure I will be moving along to anos'er company.  I can have a new set of women shouting z'e same boring, inaccurate insults at me.  It will be great.

Giani:  Ya gonna give up because ya lost?  That's retarded, dawg...

Delia:  Well, I am taking a page out of your book.  Having a stronghold on a title.  Oh, but z'ere is a difference.  Delia Darling does not crawl back.  Once I am gone, z'ese bitches can s'row a big fucking party...

Giani shakes his head, as if he hadn't picked up the insult on him.  He folds his arms across his muscular chest.

Giani:  Nope.

Delia:  Ummm, nobody tells Delia Darling "no" and gets away wi's it.

Giani:  Well I just did.  Ya not goin' nowhere.  I won't let ya make the same mistakes I made.  I won't let ya give those two bit, disease infested, leaky-crotched, fish-market smellin' bitches the satisfaction of ending you.

Delia abruptly shrugs her shoulders and looks toward the door, waiting for the nurse to finally come in.  She sighs loudly and rubs her forehead, causing some of the dried blood to flake off, causing the wound to reopen.

Delia:  Well, you can give z'ese little speeches, your pas'etic excuse of a pep talk, and for what reason?  Because now z'at you no longer have your buddies to back you up, you need your girlfriend to do it instead?

Before Giani can respond, Delia holds a hand up in his face. If he wanted her trust, he was going to have to work a lot harder than this to earn it.  She studies his eyes, focusing on the few specks that look like amber shards, but it is as if she is reading his soul.

Delia: I don't trust you, Giani.  Someone once called you a snake... and it's true...

Giani: Right, because ya Mother Theresa, right?

Delia:  I am far from it.  I am a sinner, amongst sinners... but z'e difference between you and I, is z'at I am honest wi's myself.  I don't talk myself into wanting somes'ing one minute, and totally disregarding it wis'in z'e next.  You are fickle, weak-minded.  You seek out what benefits you at z'e moment.  No friends to have your back.  No one who trusts you wi's z'eir life.   Z'e one shred of decency wis'in me z'at stops me from slapping sense into Veronica to ditch you before she becomes z'e next Dixie Waters... is because it is a cold and lonely life you live.

Giani:  Coming from the Ice Queen herself, eh?

Delia chuckles and brings her hand to her messy hair, pushing the chestnut locks from her face as she studies the building anger within Giani's face.  It is almost as if she is feeding off of it.  She sighs and looks over toward the door.

Delia:  And my point is proven.  We have nos'ing furs'er to discuss, Mr. Di Luca.  But, if it helps, I will tell Veronica you cheered me up so she will fuck your brains out tonight.  She needs z'e release, I'm sure...

Giani:  You gotta be...

Delia:  YOU... can go now, Giani.  Just like your wrestling career... you are finished.

Giani glares at Delia in a sour expression.  He clinches his jaw, but before he can respond, the door opens and the nurse walks in, looking completely flustered.

Nurse:  I'm sorry Ms. Darling, it's been a hectic night.  Your friends told me you may need stitches?

The nurse sees the tension and holds her clipboard down at her side.  Giani quickly stands up and walks over toward the door.  He takes one look back at Delia, who simply responds with a gentle wave of her hand, and a convincingly sweet smile as she sees Veronica peeking from around the corner.  Giani narrows his eyes at Delia, but makes the wise decision to turn and walk out of the room.  He closes the door behind him as the darkness overtakes the screen.
[*Fade*]


Life Support
Rechts der Isar Hospital in Munich, Germany; 19th of March, 2015

We quickly scan the outside of a block style building of white, with black frames around the windows.  The sidewalk is lined with Volkswagen vehicles galore, as well as a few emergency vehicles.  However, today, we are focused on one Volkswagen Passat, in a sleek and elegant silver tone.  The door opens, and a single black heel steps out onto the pavement, with proper black sheer hose leading up to a pleated black skirt.  The other long leg swings out of the car, showing a quick glimpse of a tasteful silver charm anklet with the letters "M" and "G".  As the female slowly exits the vehicle, her face is blocked out by a bouquet of red roses, and baby's breath sprigs fluttering in the light breeze.  Leading up to this is a fancy black blazer with white and black floral print lapels leading up to the neck line, with a tasteful white blouse underneath.  The woman has dark hair in big waves, done up beauty queen style.  She places the keys into the pocket of her blazer as she reaches her neatly manicured nails into the car to retrieve her hand bag.  She turns her wrist slightly to get a look at the time before putting a move on it.  Her heels click against the pavement as she walks up to the building, bypassing the first cube structure and on to the next one with a red arrow pointing, and the words "Notaufnahme" and a red cross.  She walks through the automatic doors where she spots a nurse.  Without seeing her face, we see her lean in to whisper to a nurse.  The nurse nods her head as she leads the woman back toward a set of doors.  They weave through triage and toward the numbered rooms.  Once we reach number 7, the nurse opens the door, giving a nod toward the woman who mutters.

"Danke schoen, fräulein..."

As she turns, we see it is none other than... Mercedes Vargas?  She walks over toward the temporary bed, where a table sits, and she places the bouquet down.  She sits down on the edge of the bed as she looks down at Delia, who looks as if she's seen much better days.  Delia is wearing a mint green hospital gown, with tubes sticking out of her arms, and wires connected all over her body.  However, the most notable "accessory" to her ensemble is a breathing mask that is wrapped around her jaw.  Her brunette locks give a solemn tone to the scene as they are matted to her head.  There are visible cuts on her face, even more than the last time we saw her.  Mercedes purses her lips angrily as she reaches down and brushes a few locks of hair from Delia's face.

Mercedes:  Those bitches...

The low toned words come out with a slight sharpness to them, filled with about a thousand metaphorical subtitles to express the anger, hurt, sadness, and everything else she was feeling at that point in time.  However, there is only one emotion that is strong enough to stop this momentary war within, and it takes over within a second of silence.

Mercedes:  Those bitches!  How is it that they are able to get away with this?  They practically got away with murder.  Is there some unwritten rule that says killing is okay if it is against the Mean Girls?  First Necra, and now....

Mercedes closes her eyes tightly as she begins to rub her temples.  She breathes in sharp breaths through her nostrils as she tries to keep herself calm.  She shakes her head as she can't believe she's sitting in this position, again!

Mercedes:  People don't die when being robbed of their possessions, but when they are robbed of their lives... No, I won't stand for this any longer.  Murder is not okay!  It's not!

Mercedes looks down at Delia.  Most would see a subdued demon lying there, but to Mercedes, it is like watching an angel being slowly drained of it's essence.  She fights back what appears to be a tear as she  gulps.  In the hopes that Delia is still able to hear her, she does her best to keep her emotions in check, to stay strong for her friend.

Mercedes:  Who do you think you are?  What gives you the right to murder, pillage, and destroy?  Oh, that's right.  You write us off as morons who have no business inside of the ring.  You call us cheaters, liars, harlots, and just about every other name under the God given sun.  Because you don't like us, it's okay to pick us off one by one?  If that were the case, there would not be a Bombshell Division.  It would have become the Mean Girls division.  But we have something that you don't have, ladies.  And I use that term in the loosest of ways, sort of like Jessie Salco's disgusting band tees with puke stains from Headbanger Harry in the circle pit... or Amy Marshall's vagi... no.  No, I'm not going to stoop that low, even though I want to so badly right now...

Mercedes clinches her fists together as she tries her best to remain classy, despite the hard times she's had over the last few weeks.  She turns away from Delia, because the sight of her in this state seems to make Mercedes want to go ape shit in two seconds flat.  She looks up at the ceiling instead.

Mercedes:  We are clearly the victims here.  We stood by while we were robbed of our titles.  We turned our heads while people defamed every single accomplishment we've made over the last year.  We have class, which is something you ladies will never have.  And now, because of you...

Mercedes doesn't even look to Delia as she points at Delia with her scarlet nail.  Her hand shakes with anger, despite how hard she fights to maintain her composure.

Mercedes:  Call it what you will, but I'm done standing by and letting you lie to yourselves, ladies.  This is murder.  This isn't some honorable crusade like you're making it out to be.  It's bullying at it's finest.  It's jealousy.  No... that is not completely true... Do you know what it really is, ladies?  Oh, don't hurt your tiny little minds too badly trying to come up with and answer, because after a dramatic pause, I'm going to tell you...

Mercedes keeps true to her word, closing her eyes as she retracts her hand.  She looks right in the direction of the camera, letting us study the perfect make up that covers her face, flawless in its execution.  After she is satisfied with her pause, her fiery Latina eyes burst open, with the cruelest of intent before she slams the dagger into the heart of the matter.

Mercedes:  It is fear.  Plain and simple.  My friends, no, my sisters, are too kind to sugar coat it by labeling it as jealousy.  Jealousy is when you call a girl a slut behind her back because you wish you had her top, or her Jimmy Choo's, or her slender thighs.  Fear is the number one motivator for murder.  Fear causes otherwise decent human beings to do things they never thought they were capable of doing.  Greed is another, but you ladies aren't smart enough to be greedy.  This is fear, pure and primal, and...

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep

Mercedes is caught off guard as the machine next to Delia goes off, signifying that her heart as stopped.  Mercedes looks back at Delia, her face draining of any color as she shakes her head.  She walks over to the door, ready to call for help, but they don't come fast enough.  The machine goes off louder and louder, ringing through Mercedes' ears.  She looks around the room and finds something that doesn't belong there... a difibrillator.  She flicks the switch on and places the pads together.  Hoping that she doesn't botch it up, she says a soft prayer to herself in her native tongue before placing the paddles to Delia's chest.  Delia's body jolts, but the beeping still continues.  Mercedes tries it once more, but still nothing more than a violent jolt of Delia's body.  Hoping the third time is the charm, she goes to try it once more, when Delia's hand reaches up and grips onto Mercedes' wrist.  Mercedes drops the pads as relief overtakes her face.

Delia:  Alright, I s'ink we've taken z'is analogy to z'e limits, don't you darling?

Mercedes:  Well, I do find electrocuting you to be strangely theraputic...

Delia clears her throat as she slowly stands up from the bed.  She picks up the pads of the difibrillator and places them to her temples, showing them to be but a mere prop.  The camera turns to show that this was an elaborate set in an abandoned wing of the hospital.  Delia and Mercedes both look pleased with their acting skills, but the purpose behind it is much greater, and it is not like Delia to not address such matters for herself.  She pulls the face mask off of herself so that she can be heard more clearly.  The loud beeping stops now as Delia looks back down to the bed, where "Mean Girls" is spray painted onto the sheet.  Delia places the oxygen mask between the "n" and the "G", as if she imagined this is where the face of this metaphorical person would be.  She turns back to the camera in all of her raw, untouched glory.

Delia:  You see, people have been celebrating for two solid weeks now, and I've heard many times over z'at z'e Mean Girls are on life support.

Delia waves her hand with panache, as if she were a certified hand model, showing off the life support devices surrounding the bed.  She looks over to Mercedes, and the two share a sinister glare as if plotting something big.  Delia gives a half smirk as she slowly turns back to the camera.

Delia:  I've heard it more z'an once.  As a matter of fact, I have heard it so much z'at I... I almost believe it.  I mean, we did lose z'e top two female titles in SCW at Blaze of Glory, no?

Mercedes:  Indeed we did.  It was a...

Delia:  A travesty?  No, it was much more z'an z'is, Mercy, darling.  It was, as you said, first degree murder of z'e Bombshell Division.  It was meant to demoralize us, but z'ese short-sighted fools didn't not realize one s'ing... When you take out z'e heart of somes'ing, z'e rest dies wis'in minutes.  Z'e Bombshell Division was hanging on by a s'read called Misty for far too long.  She could not handle z'e pressure, and z'e division was clearly falling apart.  Enter one Delia Darling, a woman of refined taste, and not some overplayed dark, dead girl or some heavy metal bullshit.  Not some "Punk Whore", but a real lady.  Somes'ing z'at SCW had only one of at z'is time.

Delia winks over at Mercedes who smirks and winks back at her while turning her head to fake blushing.  Delia shrugs her shoulders before turning back to the camera once more.

Delia:  SCW was, and still is littered wi's psychos, ingrates, over used and poorly executed gimmicks z'at are a dime a dozen, s'ree for a quarter.  One might even say z'e model gimmick is overdone, but z'ere is only one Delia Darling.  Z'ere is only one Mercedes Vargas.  Z'ere is only one Veronica Taylor, only one Amanda Cortez, and only one Angelica.  Better yet, z'ere is only one collective Mean Girls, and like it or not, we saved SCW's Bomshell Division.  Os'er z'an Misty, what Bombshell had ever Main Evented more z'an 90% of z'e male roster, hm?  Was it... Jessie Salco?  Was it Amy Marshall?  Roxi Johnson?  Kittie? Brandi Shotze?  Dare I even say... Odette Ryder?  No, it was us.  S'e Mean Girls.  I, alone,  have been in four times as many Main Events in my one year here, z'an Amy Marshall and jessie Salco combined in all of your tenure in SCW.  If you don't believe me, look it up.  I implore you.

Delia folds her arms across her chest, giving a momentary break for anyone watching to do a little research... or throw whatever they have in their hand at the screen and shout obscenities.  Once she is reasonably satisfied with the amount of time wasted, she continues.

Delia:  Paint it any way you ladies wish.  Make a name for yourselves by trying to destroy z'e Mean Girls name.  It's okay, it's z'e latest trend, and probably z'e only one you would ever stand a snowballs chance in hell to ever pull off.  If we didn't have your asses to kick, z'en people wouldn't see how dominant we were over z'e last year.  We've done our part, but you still deny us.  It's okay.  Z'e world has seen what we're capable of.  But, how quickly did we get z'ose titles around our waists, Mercy?  As a collective unit?

Mercedes:  Six weeks...

Delia: SIX WEEKS!  Six weeks after we decided we even wanted to hold z'em, we had z'em in our grasps.  You can say we cheated to get z'em, but z'e two of us?

Delia points quickly between herself and Mercedes to emphasize the obvious.

Delia:  We won z'ose titles fairly.  Look back at z'e replays.  Fair and square.  Now, some of our retentions might have been a little... ethically questionable... but if you are going to point z'e finger at me, Jessie Salco, take a look at your side, and see z'e woman who made a career out of cheating when she came here.  Look at z'e woman who asked for a title match against Gos'ika, hearing z'at she was having trouble making it to bookings, and fighting a minor injury.  Z'at move is as cheap as her eyeliner, hunty.  Don't you dare bite z'e hand z'at feeds you, Jessie.  Pass z'e note along to all of your friends, Amy, Roxi, Keira... We're war veterans now, so we know how to play z'is out.  We might have had a slip up at Blaze of Glory, but we won't let z'at deter us from maintaining dominance in SCW.  We are dangerous wi's z'e titles, but when we are wi'sout z'em?  We're fucking les'al...

Delia points her index and middle finger at the camera, aiming them as if they were a loaded gun, and her words were the spark to send the bullet through the camera, shredding the minds of every person who thought for even a second that the Mean Girls were dead now.  She brings her fingers to her lips and blows on them softly, as if blowing the smoke off of them.

Delia:  Now, z'is is not just a response video to z'e claims z'at Mean Girls are a dying breed... We have a *air quotes* match on Climax Control.  Z'e internet knows who will win, but for z'e sake of humoring people, let's discuss, Shall we?

Delia gives a nod to the camera as she steps forward, ready to get intimate with her thoughts.

Delia: Jessie... what can I say about you?  Many s'ings... If you were to go into a hygeine contest wi's a bum, you would lose.  If you were to go into a beauty pageant wi's a pile of dog shit... you would lose.  If you were to compete against a paraplegic in an ass kicking match... you would lose.  If you were to enter an intellectual decas'alon wi's a mentally challenged mute... you would?  Hm?  Lose!  And do you know why?  No, of course you don't... it is because you, darling, are a loser.  No, I'm not s'rowing some generic insult your way.  I am being honest wi's you.  You lose, constantly.  Z'e fact z'at you defeated Twisted Sister only speaks to how terrible she is.  She won't last anos'er mon's in z'is company.  But you?  You are SCW's Bombshell Jobber.  You win in tag team matches where your partners carry you to victory, unless z'ey are not quick enough to stop you from getting your ass kicked like z'e semi-finals of z'e Blast From z'e Past II tournament...

Delia covers her mouth, acting as if she had a slip of the tongue as she gasps.  A soft chuckle escapes from behind her lips as Mercedes playfully smacks her arm as if to tell her to cut it out.

Delia:  Oops, sorry bout it.  No, not really.  I've kicked your ass more times z'an I can count, and Mercedes has done z'e same.  Z'at is because we are winners, Jessie, darling.  Just as you sometimes slip up and win a match from time to time, we have slip ups too.  Well, one to date for me, but still... You're shit.  Shit in z'e ring.  Shit backstage.  Shit in your every day life.  You're just bad... and z'e only reason you are Main Eventing z'is match is because z'ey needed anos'er name to put next to Amy's for when Mercy and I kick her ass for stealing my title.  Don't shoot z'e messanger, darling.  It is simply facts...

Delia yawns, clearly bored of talking about Jessie.  She sighs as she looks down to her waist.  The title is no longer there, but the memories of that cruel night still linger freshly in her mind.  A hint of anger washes over her, but quickly disappears.

Delia:  Allow me for one moment, to talk about how closely knit z'e Mean Girls are.  Z'ere is not a word to describe our bond more accurantly z'an to say we are sisters, but even z'is seems to not do our bond justice.  We have each os'ers back always.  For example, Mercedes and I could have taken each os'er on in September of last year when she nearly defeated Vixen for z'e title.  If I were z'e jealous type, I could have sabotaged her.  I did not.  I was at ringside, cheering her on, helping her to her feet, and... well... you know. I wanted her to have a chance to hold z'e belt I eventually made famous.  We support each os'er, and we've proved it time and time again.  We're... sisters, best friends, heterosexual life mates.  We are bonded by our trust and admiration of one anos'er.

Delia reaches over and takes hold of Mercedes' hand for a second.  She squeezes it gently as Mercedes swings their hands back and forth.

Delia:  I am honored to tag wi's Mercedes once more.  If we had better opponents, I might even call it a dream match...

Delia lets go of Mercedes' hand and looks as if she has gone off on a tangent.  She  gasps and then brushes her hair from her face.

Delia:  I have a point, I assure... You see, Mean Girls have proven we can be trusted.  Amy, I can tell you from experience z'at being a champion can be very lonely.  I was fortunate enough to have friends who were trusted enough to not have to worry, but you?  I mean, you've done a lot of s'ings to people backstage in your time here.  Z'e ones you haven't, still see z'e target on your back.  You formed z'is cute little ensemble wi's Jessie a few mon's ago, z'e Metal and Punk Connection... oh em gee, z'at does not roll off z'e tongue like at all... Horrible, but anyway... Your questionable team has been toges'er a short time, wi's two short lived title reigns to your terrible name.  What makes you s'ink you can trust Jessie?

Delia tilts her head to the side slowly as she holds her hands out at her sides, waiting for an answer before responding to what she expects Amy would say.

Delia:  I'm being nice here... What kind of legendary Bombshell, and first to hold z'e World Bombshell, champion would I be if I didn't impart some wisdom to you, and trust me when I say you need it, hunty.  If you honestly believe you can trust Jessie, z'en I hate to tell you z'at your title reign will be even shorter z'an eis'er of your Bombshell Tag reigns...  Sorry bout it.  Just make sure you keep your eyes on all sides of z'e ring, because if Jessie doesn't screw you over z'e way you screwed over Karina Koji, z'en Mercedes and I will be present to knock you z'e fuck out.  My advice is z'e extent of my kindness toward you, Amy.

Mercedes:  Are you done talking about our next victims?  Say what you came here to say so that we can do something better with our time...

Delia shoots a momentary evil glare to Mercedes, but this fades quickly as she clears her throat.

Delia:  Es ist nun , dass die Mean Girls erfüllen ihren Untergang ... aber sie werden steigen, stärker als zuvor!  And true that is... You see, maybe people were right when z'ey said z'e Mean Girls were doomed.  Maybe z'ey are truly dead.  Perhaps we have met our demise.  But, as the phoenix, we will rise from z'e ashes of defeat, and we will be stronger z'an ever!  Amy and Jessie are not z'e only ones who need to watch z'eir backs.  Every one of you bitches should, because just as Amy has a target on her back, each and every one of you have a bright pink bullseye on yours...

Delia looks over to Mercedes, who nods her head before stepping up to the camera.

Mercedes:  Sorry... not sorry.

Delia and Mercedes high five as Delia pulls off the tubes sticking out of her arms.  The blood that comes out shows that they were truly in her skin rather than just adhered to her skin for effect.  She removes some of the wires as well as her hospital gown, revealing a short black skirt with stockings, and a Mean Girls t-shirt.  Mercedes sheds her blazer, opening the blouse to reveal the same shirt.  Delia kicks off the hospital slippers and gets into her Alexander McQueen's, pulling a blonde wig off of a nearby table.  She quickly slides it on as she picks up a handbag, and the two ladies walk off of the set, laughing together.
[*Fade*]

7
Character Building Roleplays / BFTP Thoughts
« on: January 26, 2015, 11:46:24 AM »
 The following is available courtesy of MeanGirls.org

"Amazing" by Hi Fashion plays over the screen as a short vignette plays, showing off each of the Mean Girls separately for a moment, ending with them together, laughing and pointing.  After a second the music fades out and we fade in to see a webcam feed of World Bombshell Champion, Delia Darling, sitting at the make up table backstage after Climax Control has ended.  There are still staff members hustling around in the background, but it appears that most, if not all, of the other (Non-Mean Girls) wrestlers have left for the night.

Delia:  Hello Darlings!

Delia blows kisses left and right to her faithful fans, the ones she's clearly made up in her head.  For having not won her match this evening, she seems to be in very chipper spirits.  She gives a gentle wave with her right hand before adjusting herself in her pink directors style chair.  She reaches up to her ginger hair, pulling out a few pins as she removes it from her head, revealing a brown stocking cap on her head.  She pulls it out, shaking her somewhat messy hair out to give it volume back.

Delia:  You will have to forgive me, darlings, for I'm a frightful mess right now...

Delia runs her fingers through her hair, fluffing it out as she continues to add as much volume as she can.  She reaches over to her right and pulls a gold case from her purse, opening it to reveal cigarettes.  She pulls one out along with a lighter, igniting it and taking a deep breath.  She sighs, exhaling it slowly as she calms herself down some.

Delia:  Oh, what a night we had tonight... Sin City Wrestling travels to z'e wilderness of Scotland, God's blind spot if you will... I was actually surprised z'at I got a signal out here.  Bless us for donating our time to visit s'ird world countries for z'e duration of 2015, ugh...

Delia takes another long drag from her cigarette as she turns her head to the right slightly, showing off her favorite side.  She gently expels the smoke from her lungs as she looks back to the camera, the glow of the screen turning her face a slightly blue tint.

Delia:  But, one does not do good deeds for recognition, no?  No, we do it because it is here, in our hearts...

Delia brings both hands up to her chest, clutching at her bosom for a second before rolling her eyes as if she even has to explain herself for moving on so quickly.

Delia:  So tonight was not about wins or losses.  It was about turning over a new leaf for us, z'e Mean Girls.  One where we do not let competition go to our heads.  Ronnie and Mandy proved z'is tonight when z'ey refused to let z'eir mascara be ruined for z'e sake of bruising one anos'er.  I mean, at least z'ey did try to fight each os'er, unlike some os'er... hmmmm... dickless?  Is z'at a word?  Perhaps I should skip z'e pleasantries... Pussies... z'at is z'e proper term... Pussies, yes.  Unlike two pussies who decided z'ey didn't want to compromise z'eir friendship by actually wrestling one anos'er.  Yes, Mean Girls know z'at no matter what happens in z'e ring, we will take on any challenge, and leave business where it belongs, in z'e ring.  It is what we are to do in z'e sport, no?  Wrestle our opponents?  Whatever, z'at is unimportant now...

Delia waves her hand in the air as a sneer comes across her face.  She rolls her eyes as she mouths What a fucking joke" away from the camera, but it comes across clear as day due to her state of the art microphone.  She sighs in exasperation before forcing a bright smile onto her face.

Delia:  As a runner up, and z'e only active member of z'e roster from z'e finals of last years tournament... making me like z'e representative, I felt it was my duty to give my s'oughts on z'e tournament z'is year.  I know, I know... so nice of me.  I mean, it's not even for a promotional video.  I'm not getting paid.  Don't ever say Delia Darling doesn't give back to z'e fans...

Delia nods her head with a serious look on her face as she organizes her thoughts.

Delia: Tonight we kicked of z'e first round of travesties... er... matches in z'e tournament.  Alex Kaelin and Jade Manendez-Arcador defeated Joanne Canelli and Lucian Frost.  I am an Alex fan as I subscribe to z'e big deal...  Now, everyone s'ought Joanne would lose, because, well, she's Joanne, and... yeah, z'at is all.  But Lucian Frost?  He's like... a legend.  I guess it just shows how dominant Kaelin is in his short time here.

Delia raises her hands, clapping them softly, but with a genuine smile on her face.  She ignores the ashes falling down behind her as she focuses once more.

Delia:  I fangirl'ed myself at z'e next match.  I guess I'm bound to have a normal reaction now and z'en... Despayre and Amanda Cortez!!! ... defeated Blue Balls, er, Blaque Hart Bruce Evans... I can't even say Veroncica lost, because well, she's a winner.  Love you bitch.

Delia winks and then blows a kiss into the camera.

Delia:  Love Mandy and Despy as a team.  They work great toges'er.  Despy was just too much for Evans, and he scored z'e win.  Veronica was in z'e same boat as me, so we bo's know not to take it personal.  Now, let's fast forward a little as Mercedes Vargas and JT Midas defeat Roxi Johnson and z'e future Caleb Smalls.  While Roxi didn't stand a chance to begin wi's, she gets teamed wi's Caleb, who can be ras'er impressive when he's not trying to work around getting his ass kicked by his best friend.  I guess he doesn't want anyone to know z'at JT wears z'e pants? I don't know... But, congrats to Mercedes as she pulls a special trick from her sleeve to secure z'e second Mean Girls win of z'e night, a feat not even I was able to accomplish.  Z'at is my Mercy, always s'inking outside z'e box.  Ugh, my girls make me so proud.

Delia shakes her head as she almost tears up.  She wipes at her eye, sighing but it is clearly just for show, as she immediately moves on.

Delia:  Now, for my match... Travis Nas'aniel Andrews defeated Steve Ramone.  You're welcome, darling.  Had it not been for me, you would not have been so lucky.  Now, I know you're all watching because you want to hear why I did what I did, but... well, not everys'ing in life is free, so I'll save my comments for Climax Control next week.  Sorry bout it... Anyway, Travis defeated Steve, because Steve doesn't know how to concentrate to save his life.  His win-loss record here proves z'is.  Ohhhhhhhhh...

Delia growls as she clinches her fists together, snapping the remainder of her cigarette between her fingers, burning them a bit as she flinches, dropping it.  She glares, but calms herself down as she looks back to the camera, trying her best to move on.

Delia:  But, z'is was only half of z'e fun.  SCW is presenting z'e next half of opening round matches next week.  I'm even going to be objective here.  Joshua Acquin and Amy Marshall take on Bo Dreamwolf and Crystal Hilton.  I'm going to predict z'at Bo and Crystal win after about s'ree minutes...

A voice comes from behind Delia, belonging to a stagehand.  Delia shoots her attention back and shoos his away.  She growls as she shouts at him.

Delia:  Z'at was objective!  I didn't say s'ree seconds like it actually will be!  Em why oh bee!  Gawd... Whatever... Patient #078 and Darknyss will take on Erik Staggs and Necra Octavian Kane.  Z'is one is easy.  Patient and Darknyss, because Team Death... Goddess of z'e dead, and z'e next soul she will claim, living on borrowed time... It doesn't take much to defeat dea's... I proved it two weeks ago.  So z'ey get my nod for z'is week.

Delia picks up the piece of paper, having a hard time remembering the next match.  She scans through the card and finally finds it.  She nods and mouths "ahhh, yes..." before placing the paper down as if she never had it at all.

Delia:  Dark Tiger Sebastian Hardin and Candy Overton versus Andrew Garcia and z'e female Steve Ramone, Jessie Salco.  Seriously, I mean, I bet he's fucking her, like obvs...   But, what male on z'e roster hasn't?

Delia shrugs her shoulders as she asks this question.

Delia:  Sorry bout it... And we all saw how Steve does it.  I just feel sorry for my friend, Garcia.  He's going to have to pull double duty, and unfortunately, since men can't fight women, he has to let Jessie wrestle.  I don't know anys'ing about Candy, and I find Sebastian to be atrocious, but... I have to be objective and give Sebastian and Candy z'e nod because yeah, Jessie is a choke artist.

Delia is about to wrap things up, but in true Delia fashion, she does this with her version of a bang.  Without picking up the paper, letting us know she's doing this intentionally, she laces her fingers together and leans back in her chair.

Delia: And last, but certainly not least... We have Andrew Watts and Misty, versus Patient #026 and Mikah.  Great, just what we need in Sin City Wrestling... more mental patients.  And management wonders why we have such a high turn over rate in z'is company.  Don't recruit in mental asylums!  Whatever, I s'ink I knocked some sense into Misty when I defeated her a few mon's back.  She's been kind of normal I guess lately, and she looks heals'ier too, like she got her anemia under control or whatever.

Delia tries to think of what could have changed about Misty since their last encounter, but she doesn't give it much thought, waving it off.

Delia:  I just have to say, I like z'e REJECTS.  I mean, Alex Kaelin and Andrew Watts are a big deal, and Gavin Stephens knows how to make an impact, even if it isn't in z'e ring...  And Mikah?  Love her... like, if she wasn't such a big slut, she might even be invited to sit wi's z'e Mean Girls, like unofficially, but still.  Now z'at is a big deal... But, yeah, sluts don't sit wi's us.  If z'ey did, Amy Marshall and Jessie Salco would be at our table... Wait, z'ey ar butt fucking ugly... Never mind.  Anyway, We've got Andrew Watts, z'e only established and undefeated wrestler in SCW next to myself... and Misty.  She's a legend.  Yeah, I said it.  Le-gend.  She can't help z'at she lost to me, I'm a legend in z'e making, so we can't hold it fully against her right?  Ugh, I'm too nice for my own good sometimes.

Delia opens her gold case once more, pulling a cigarette out, but she doesn't light it.  She holds it between her fingers as she contemplates for a second.  She taps her chin as she looks up at the ceiling.

Delia:  I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings here, because bo's sides are equal...

Delia laughs as she pounds the palm of her hand against the top of the table, shaking her head as she tries to catch her breath.

Delia:  Totally kidding.  Andrew Watts and Misty will take z'is one, and... if I'm honest... z'e entire tournament...   Andrew Watts is z'e only one I could see even coming close to breaking my running record of one year undefeated by pin, elimination, or submission since debuting.  And wi's someone such as Misty on his side?  Misty and I have our differences, but z'is team is gold.  I'm calling it now.  As we learned from my match, one can't carry z'eir partner... unless you're Mercedes Vargas...  and Mikah can't carry her tragic partner against z'e dream team.  Sorry bout it, hunty... Z'e only s'ing people can do z'at I cannot is suck at life, and lose.  I couldn't so you cannot... Facts, sweetie.  If I had Watts as a partner, they'd skip z'e tournament and hand us z'e trophies tonight, but Misty is like...

Delia counts on her fingers as she mouths "Delia", "Amanda", "Mercedes", "Veronica"...

Delia:  ... fif's best.  Z'at is it, I'm calling it... Watts and Misty to win, end of story.  You heard it here first... Well, I've got a life, and s'ings to do, so...

Delia looks as if she regrets having to cut this short as she averts her eyes to the left, clinching her teeth together as she mouths "Sorry bout it" before reaching down in front of the camera.  With a few key strokes, the feed ends with Delia groaning, leading into "Amazing" once more.  We focus on a still frame of the Mean Girls pointing and laughing with a salmon pink background, and the Mean Girls logo behind them.  This, too, fades out to blackness as the feed ends.</color>

8
Climax Control Archives / Dark Paradise
« on: January 23, 2015, 01:49:11 PM »
 
"I am an old soul which craves the innocence, the spontaneity, and thelonging for life that comes along with youth.  I am far too jaded to ever taste this zest, but that doesn't stop me from trying." -Delia, darling if you must



"Delia Darling, world class couture slash shock model, the Donatella of our generation, one of the main draws to the Mean Girls clothing brand, and... professional wrestler?"

The excited feminine voice goes unknown to the viewer for a moment until the camera finally fades inside of a news studio with the Fox 11 logo behind the raven-haired entertainment reporter.  After a moment of staring at her bewildered face, the name "Julie Chang" appears at the bottom of the screen.  She shakes her head with a baffled laugh as she turns to the side, where the camera switches angles.  She clasps her hands together in front of her, neatly manicured nails gleaming in the light, clearly Nails by Liz quality.  Her black hair cascades down her shoulders like finely feathered fountains against her white blouse.  She takes in a deep breath before continuing.

Julie:  This elusive model has slipped through our fingers many times before, but after her recent appearance at the RuPaul's Drag Race pre-screening party, which Darling is confirmed as a guest judge, we were able to get a few words with her...

The feed switches to catch Delia, Angelica, Mercedes, Veronica, and Amanda walking away from the Belasco Theater in Los Angeles, the spotlight of the camera shining brightly on the group of Mean Girls.  Each one places a hand in front of their face as they walk by.

Veronica:  Hunty, you don't get a shot of this mug for free.  Sorry bout it...

The cameraman finally stops on Delia as Julie Chang comes on screen, trying to shove a microphone in Delia's face.  Delia pulls her hand down to her side and growls.

Julie:  Ms. Darling, could I get a few words...

Delia's eyes widen as she stares daggers through the Oriental beauty standing before her.  She clinches her jaw, and her eyes closed as her nostrils flare out.  She shoots her eyes open and flips her long chestnut curls over her shoulder.

Delia:  Get z'e *BEEP*ing camera out of my *BEEP*ing FACE!  Z'ere, a few words for you to choke on, Julie...

Delia sneers as she turns on her stiletto heels, walking off with the rest of the Mean Girls.

Back in the studio, Julie shows a hint of disdain as she pauses, pursing her lips as she rubs them together.  She plays it off with a chuckle and a pearly white smile that dismisses any hard feelings to anyone who doesn't read deeper into things.

Julie:  After many attempts like that one, we were finally able to get Ms. Darling to sit down and dish!  Please welcome, Delia, darling if you must!

She smiles sweetly as she turns to her left, where Delia is sitting in a black bob cut wig, a deep V-cut dress with a stuffed crow sewn onto the left shoulder, as well as her signature sunglasses, and a cigarette between her fingers.  Julie looks off screen as if asking someone why she hasn't been reprimanded for this.  After a second of nothing, she shrugs her shoulders and continues on.

Julie:  Delia, thanks for sitting with us today.  We've got so many... *cough*

Delia blows a plume of second hand smoke right into Julie's face, causing the reporter to hack as she waves her hand in front of her face.  Delia rubs her black lips together, seemingly pleased with the reaction she's received here.  She turns to face the camera now, plastering the most fake smile she can muster.

Delia:  S'ank you... If you have not made it on Fox news, you simply... have not made it, no?  Ha!  I told you I would say it, Mercy!

Delia chuckles heartily as she points off camera, clapping her hands together as a wicked smile comes over her face.  She sighs as she looks back over toward Julie, while not directly acknowleding her, as she sighs in delight.

Delia:  I'm a b*eeeeeep*ch, but z'at one... she's a true c*beep*t z'at one...  No, if you are on Fox news, you are eis'er a rape victim, or you robbed a liquor store.  Consider z'is my charity for z'is mon's.  I'm... so nice...

Julie:  Yes, thank you for being here.  You have been rather elusive to all media.  Why?  And why change this now?

Delia continues to stare past the camera, nodding her head as she listens to a voice coming off camera, but the words are indistinguishable to us.  She takes another puff of her cigarette before placing it inside of a nearby coffee mug, the sizzling sound resonating in the microphone as she gently exhales a stream of silvery smoke.

Delia:  When one is Delia Darling, or even someone of z'e caliber of Veronica Taylor, one simply does not stop to talk to someone representing a company one step above public access.  We are not some Midwestern Playboy models.  We're national treasures.  We must be choosy about who we allow to represent us on television.  Some news sources chop and edit us to make us look bad.  Can you believe z'at?

Julie:  Not at all, Ms. Darling.  Sometimes, what you see is what you get.  But that's doesn't answer the latter question.  Why here?  Why now?

Delia runs her tongue across her top lip as she thinks about her response ever so carefully.

Delia:  I was bored today...

Julie:  Oh... We were expecting some sort of brilliant revelation.

Delia:  Oh?  Well, I am ever so sorry to disappoint.  If I had some brilliant revelation to make, it would not be to some two bit Asian Barbie doll reporting for Fox News, I assure...  No, I would talk to Diane Sawyer or Barbara Walters, because z'ey carry tout, much like I do in bo's industries I am involved wi's.

Julie is clearly fuming, but the professional that she is, she refuses to show it.  She takes a deep breath, forcing her smile ever harder than before as she waits for Delia to finish insulting her before she continues delicately.

Julie:  Yes, we all know that you have appeared on countless fashion magazines, including seven centerfolds for Italian Vogue...

Delia:  S'ree of which, I also graced z'e cover.  Z'e top s'ree best selling issues to date.

Julie:  You have taken Paris, London, Milan, New York, AND Los Angeles runways by storm, so much so that you've decided to take your talents to... Las Vegas?

Delia nods her head as if Julie were simply stating well known facts.  Julie looks a little confused, of course, playing it off despite her knowledge of Sin City Wrestling.  For the sake of continuing to uncover the "scoop", she feigns intrigue, very convincingly.

Julie:  And in a much different form as you literally go straight from the runway to a wrestling ring?

Delia:  Mmm-hmm.  Yes, I am actually a champion wrestler in Las Vegas, and z'e surrounding territories.  Independent wrestling has such a broad range of fans, especially in z'e Sou'swest.  You know, it started out as a joke?  Like, my friend Angelica dared me to spar wi's her one day or whatever... z'at is when you fight in a controlled environment.  Yeah, I kicked her ass, and she claims she let me, but... if anyone has ever seen one of her matches, a falling broomstick could knock her out... sorry bout it, darling...

Delia tilts her sunglasses down long enough to wink off camera before blowing a kiss.  Delia waves sweetly before bringing her glasses back up her nose as she composes herself once more.  She folds her hands together in front of her as she looks toward the camera.

Delia:  It was such an exhilerating experience.  Gawd, you couldn't even imagine.  Z'e savage beauty in beating z'e ever living f*beeeep*k out of anos'er person wi'sout z'e fear of going to jail?  Ugh, unmatched by any chemical found in all of Los Angeles, I assure.  So, I decided... why not?  Like, z'e pay is horrible, but I'm already rich, so why not?

Julie:  Aren't you afraid of breaking a nail?

Julie sneers as she asks in a passive-aggressive manner, playing it off as a friendly joke, but both ladies know the true aim of it.  Delia claps her hands together as she chuckles, gently pushing Julie, who returns the forced laugh.

Delia:  Darling, I wouldn't know.  I have been wrestling for just short of a year now, and I have not been pinned, or forced into submission, or os'erwise eliminated.  If you pay attention to Twitter, which I'm sure you don't because z'is is not TMZ... you would hear everyone laugh at me.  Z'ey tell me z'at I am some Barbie doll plastic, talentless... I don't even know because I lost track of all z'e basic insults z'ey s'row at me on z'e daily.  Yet, not one of z'em has defeated me.  Each one s'inks z'ey will end my career, and z'ey simply cannot.  Sorry bout it.

Julie:  Well, I don't understand wrestling, but I would assume that they find you a hard pill to swallow, and... I just can't figure out why.  You're so charming.

Delia:  Ugh, right?!  I used to spend a lot of time on Twitter, giving FREE fashion tips to z'e less fortunate.  I took a coworkers daughter for ice cream once.  I did Amy Marshall's make up z'e first day I was in Sin City Wrestling.  Oh, and I recommended a good plastic surgeon for a girl who suffers from a little bit of a man jaw... Roxi Johnson.  I'm so nice, but whatever...  Z'ey're just jealous because I'm a champion, and z'ey aren't.  Like, work b*tch, get it like I did...  Z'is mentality of wrestlers attacking champions to get shots instead of actually earning shots is ridiculous.

Julie nods her head, though she lost interest in Delia's words, and imagining the horror she put people through, justifying that horror with the excuses she's dishing out now.  Once Delia's voice stops scratching at her ears, gnawing at her mind, she realizes it's time to talk again.

Julie:  I can imagine.  Now, we're being told that, for all of the wrestling fans out there, your promotion of Sin City Wrestling is hosting a tournament called Blast From the Past, which honors one man and one woman from wrestling's past.  This year is the Fabulous Moolah, and "Nature Boy" Buddy Rogers?

Delia:  Whatever... I just want to pick my next challenger.  I want someone wor's my time for once el oh el.

Julie:  I don't know much of the industry, but isn't that disrespectful to those who paved the way before you?

Delia:  Z'ey are in z'e past, hence z'e name of z'e tournament.  I am happening now.  Surely in twenty years when I retire, z'ey will honor me in one of z'ese tournaments, and some hot young star will take my place when I'm ready to give it up.  Moolah would not mind if I show z'e world how it is really done.

Julie frowns a bit as she watches Delia sink into herself even further than she already was.  She shakes her head, but tries not to show her disgust too much.  She takes a deep breath before continuing once more.

Julie:  I'm sure you will do great.  Now, this is a tournament that pairs one male and one female together.  Tell us about your partner.  Is he dreamy?

Delia's face sours into pure and utter disgust as she sneers at Julie.  She waits for some hint that Julie is joking, but she doesn't give this hint.  Delia shakes her head slowly as she looks past the camera where a light amount of chuckling can be heard.  She juts her thumb out at Julie as she silently asks if she's serious before turning back to Julie.

Delia:  Ugh, no!  Not even close.  He's like almost s'irty, yet he looks well into his sixties.  He has long hair, and I'm pretty sure it's a grown out mullet, and don't EVEN get me started on z'e chest hair... ugh!  No, I'm pretty sure he has a daughter my age anyway.  Of course, looking s'ree times your age could run in z'e family because he looks like an in bred cousin kisser.

Julie:  Will you be distracted by some stud standing on the outside of the ring?

Delia:  If you are referring to my opponent, Trenton Nelson Andre or whatever the f*beeeep*k his name is, z'en probably not. I don't even know who he is, but he sounds boring.  Trenton?  What kind of a name is z'at anyway?  He's clearly a masic...

Julie looks curious as she peeks down at her notes, thumbing through them before looking up to Delia with a bit of confusion on her face.

Julie:  But his name...

Delia:  Masic...

Julie:  His name is...

Delia:  Uhhh, masic...

Julie:  His name is Travis Nathaniel Andrews.

Delia:  Oh?  Hmmm, he still sounds pretty masic to me.

Julie looks off camera as if she's begging for mercy, but she is given an off screen cue to keep going for a few more minutes.  She sighs and clasps her hands together again.

Julie:  Please tell me that you at least know who you're facing.

Delia:  Uhh, of course I do.  I'm not retarded.

Julie:  That's not politically correct...

Delia:  I don't recall asking you if it was, Tricia Takanawa.  Im facing z'at... one girl... wi's z'e... s'ing.  Okay, I don't know, but once you've defeated z'e entire roster, you start forgetting names and faces because z'ey all blur toges'er.  Whatever, I'm bored talking about z'is now.Watch RuPaul's Drag Race, debuting...

Julie:  I'm done... I'm seriously f*beeeeeeeeeep*ing done.  I'm done with the abuse. I'm done with sucking up to prima donnas.  I'm done. I'm just done...

Julie stands up from her seat, on the verge of shouting angrily as she stares right at Delia, who has an amused smirk on her face the whole time.  She gives a half smile as she stares at Julie.  Julie notices the smirk and she clinches her fists at her side.  She raises her hands toward the camera before censor bars come over her fingers, letting us know exactly what she thinks of this situation.  Delia giggles lightly as she covers her mouth.  Julie then exits the shot and Delia scoots her seat toward the middle, lowering her sunglasses and clasping her hands together professionally as she sighs to compose herself.

Delia:  Before we move on to z'e depressing news, lets check in wi's Maria Quiban for z'e weas'er... Maria?

The camera pans over to the lovely Latina standing in front of the weather map, looking completely stunned at what has just taken place.  Her eyes are still planted firmly to her right as her jaw hangs open in surprise.  We quickly cut out to commercial break.
[*Fade*]





"Sometimes, doing the right thing doesn't make sense.  Sometimes being completely selfless, expecting no recognition for your good deeds, just makes sense.  It isn't always about you, you know?" -Delia, darling if you must



After the events of Sin City Wrestling's Inception, the Mean Girls had taken their time in celebrating, or stewing in their own hatred and anger, respectively.  There were many champagne bubbles tickling their cute, perfect noses and numbing them to the words of hate being spread about them all over social media.  Despite the fact that Mean Girls managed to keep the Bombshell and Bombshell Roulette Championships within the stable, a feat that should have been celebrated by all five members, there was still a dark, ominous feeling in the room any time the five ladies convened.  It was almost too much for Delia to bare as she booked a separate flight from Los Angeles to Glasgow.  Her and Mercedes had something in common, gold which they both retained at the show... by winning matches.  But, Veronica and Amanda had lost, and Veronica especially has been going on and on about conspiracy theories that not even Delia's self-aborbed mind could justify, and it had been wearing thin on her.  When Delia heard that referee, and former Mean Girl, Holly Wood would look like a British man if her hair were cut off, Delia couldn't take it anymore.  She had to get out of the Mean Girls LA Clubhouse, and fast.

This is where we find Delia driving through down town Los Angeles, alone.  She is in her natural state, her long, curled chestnut locks are blowing through the wind as she puts on a "Golden Oldie" from... get this... 2012!  "Summertime Sadness" by Lana Del Rey plays as her dark eyes scan the smog-filled city for something that speaks to her.  Something that calls her name, beckoning her to come closer.  She has a few hours before she has to be at LAX for her flight, and she is in one of the most lively cities in the country.  She seems to fall into a trance as the mild air blows across her face, through her hair, and the pink lace scarf.  She runs her tongue across her cherry lips as she stares into the setting sun.  What should call her name comes as a surprise as she begins to follow signs leading east.

"What am I doing?  Driving into z'e night like I was Misty or somes'ing...  Obligations, darling... obligations.  Take z'e next exit, and turn back around..."

Delia begins to merge to the next right lane, when a loud horn startles her.  A semi truck zooms past her as the driver shouts out obscenities.  She swerves back into her lane, growling under her breath.  However, the music seems to sooth her again, bringing her back into a thoughtful lull.  She rests her elbow against the window frame of her car, gently tucking her fingers into her hair as she uses her other hand to steer the car.

"Okay... maybe I will just go to z'e next exit and turn back toward z'e airport..."

"Are you certain, cherie?"

Delia's eyes narrow as she slowly looks over to her right.  Sitting in the driver's seat with a Super Gulp from 7-11, and a variety of snacks spread out on his lap, is Delia's first love, Guillaume.  She rolls her eyes and then turns back toward the road, narrowing her eyes as she tenses up heavily.

"Who asked you, Guillaume.  Why don't you find anos'er fifteen year old to corrupt?"

"Ma petit, why must you aim for z'e heart wi's z'e first shot, always?"

"Z'e better question is... why must I always miss?  Bad luck, I suppose.  C'est la vie, no?"

Delia sneers as she stares over at Guillaume.  He uses his free hand to clutch at his chest before reaching into a bag of Twizzlers, pulling a stick from it and placing it to his lips.  He grips it with his teeth as he speaks through gritted teeth.

"Direct hit, cherie.  At least I have owned up to my mistakes.  I've learned to accept z'at I am not perfect.  I have even allowed you to place all z'e blame on my shoulders, because I know z'ey are broad enough to carry z'e load.  But, don't you s'ink it is more z'an just a little pas'etic?"

"But you laid your hands on me, Gui!"

Guillaume looks as if he wants to respond to this with just as much urgency as she had dished out to him.  She glares over at him with a hint of tears in her eyes, losing focus of the road.  She starts to swerve, until Guillaume veers her back on course.  She sucks in a deep breath while returning her eyes to the road, but her attention is still firmly on Guillaume.  He sighs as his dark eyes look down to the floor of the car.  After a second, they slowly look back up to Delia, pangs of regret ever present.

"As I said, I am not perfect.  I made mistakes, and z'at, ma cherie, is one of z'em.  Nos'ing compares to z'e soul of a tortured artist.  You are ageless, timeless, a classic beauty rivaled by no os'er.  It was not my intention to corrupt you.  I only wanted to love you wi's everys'ing I had."

Delia chuckles as she once again rolls her eyes, though she doesn't give Guillaume the satisfaction of looking directly at him.

"So, I suppose you tripped, and your penis fell into z'at os'er girl's vagina?  Or did you go blind for a moment, and s'ink she was me?  Please do explain.  Z'is should be good..."

"Anos'er mistake.  Z'e way you tried to control my artistic integrity by telling me who to work wi's, it caused a lot of frustrations.  You don't understand...

"You're right, I don't... Clearly she wanted to fuck you, and guess what she did?  Oh wait, you already know.  No matter what words fell from my mou's, I did not deserve z'e abuse you dished out to me."

"Nor did I deserve what you gave me.  I will accept z'e blame for our ending, but I will not do you a disservice by allowing you to make yourself out to be completely innocent, petit.  It does you no favors."

Delia continues to glare at the road, her headlights gradually glowing brighter as she puts distance between herself and the city.  Time and distance is a blur to her as she keeps going.  However, Guillaume places his large hand over hers delicately.  He rubs the back of her hand with his rough, slightly calloused hand.  She slowly begins to melt into it, softening as her breaths become shallow and forced.  She slowly turns her hand over to lace her fingers between his, but before she can fully fall into this, she growls and rips her hand away.

"GET... OUT!  Get out of my car, get out of my life, and get out of my FUCKING HEAD!"

"But.. petit?"

"NOW!"

Delia speeds up as she notices a bit of a desert terrain drowning out the city lights as the stars light her way in the dry abyss.  Guillaume lowers his eyes once more as he takes a deep breath.  He wipes at his face, and as he does, a five o'clock shadow, and a few extra years of wear come over his face.  He looks back over to Delia, and she has to do a double take.  "Guillaume" looks up to her, raising a dark brown bottle to his lips, rather than the Super Gulp, which seems to have disappeared.

"Oi, Delia!  Must've gotten pretty pissed, cause I don't remember getting in a car with ya."

The French accent has faded entirely as the slightly older, rougher looking version of Guillaume becomes apparent as former SCW star, "Exile" Ethan Brody.  He reaches up, pulling the skull cap from his head as he tosses it out of the window, showing off his close buzz cut, shaking his head as he watches the hat flutter through the wind in the distance.

"Aren't you going to bat those pretty little eyes at me again?  Melt me like butter and spread me out?"

"Guh-ross!  I already told you, Es'an... we were tag team partners, and nos'ing more.  I carried you to victory after victory until you became too much dead weight for even me to handle.  And, it looks as if I'm going to have z'e same problem z'is year.  Ugh, I swear I'm done carrying weak men and making z'em look good..."

"Always liked them with a bit of attitude.  The look in your eyes says otherwise, love.  I can play along though.  Say, where are we going?"

Delia looks around, finally taking notice that she is no longer in Los Angeles.  The darkness settles in as she sees the glowing city lights off in the very far edges f her rear view mirror.  She looks down at the clock on her dashboard, seeing that it is now 7:15pm, nearly an hour and a half later.  She growls as she merges over to the right, nearly cutting someone off as she goes.  She ignores their honking as she looks over at Ethan in annoyance.

"Back to LAX. I have a flight to catch so I can go repeat history.  Hopefully he is lighter z'an you so we can actually win z'e tournament..."

Ethan clutches at his chest, but in a much more joking manner.  He chuckles a bit before emptying the remainder of the pint into his mouth.  He tosses the bottle out of the window as it crashes into a thousand pieces behind them.

"Ouch.  It doesn't feel so nice when it's aimed at me.  I always liked your cheeky attitude, and look where it's gotten you.  You didn't need to win some tournament to get that Bombshell Championship around your waist.  It might have taken some extra time, but you did it all on your own.  You proved everyone wrong by keeping it for four months and counting, too.  You're really something, love..."

Ethan reaches over, brushing a lock of hair from Delia's face tenderly.  He runs his rough fingers to her cheek, feeling her warmth on his fingertips.  There is something comforting about this as she briefly closes her eyes.  Her head falls onto his shoulder, while still paying attention to the road.  He places his chin firmly on the side of her head in a comforting manner.  The mood is broken when a voice comes from the back seat.

"Oh yeah..."

The voice comes off much like that of a pervert, getting his kicks while watching someone else have something that he cannot.  Delia lifts her head to look into her rear view mirror to find Eric Paisano leaning over to stare directly at them.

"Don't let me interrupt.  I'm just happy to watch you two.  I won't ask to join... unless you two are into that sort of thing?"

Ethan reaches back and punches Eric in the shoulder.  Eric narrows his eyes, but respectfully lets it go, rubbing his shoulder.

"Terrible timing, bruv."

"I couldn't help it.  She just turns me on so much..."

"Enough!  Bo's of you!  I didn't sleep wi's eis'er of you, and I don't ever intend to...

"Yeah, guys... she left that all for me."

Delia glares into her rear view mirror, and sitting next to Eric is Drake Green.  He shrugs his shoulders apologetically as he takes a sip from a glass fo scotch.  Eric and Ethan begin bickering while Drake seems uninterested at this point, but before he even has a chance.  Delia screams loudly.  She clinches her eyes closed as she shouts.

"ENOUGH! I don't need a man in my life!"

Delia's tires screech as she slams on her brakes.  As her eyes open, she sees no one in the car with her.  However, cars around her swerve, honk, and shout as they avoid hitting her.  As she slows, she pulls onto the dusty shoulder of the road.  She takes a few deep breaths, feeling extremely tense from the mind tricks being played on her.  She grips the steering wheel firmly before looking back up to see red and blue lights behind her.  She rolls her eyes as she reaches over to her purse in the passengers seat.  She digs through it, pulling out her lisence, and then goes to her glove box to pull out her registration papers.  She places them firmly in her lap as the big, broad officer slowly walks along the side of her car.  He taps on her window with his flash light, prompting Delia to roll down the window.  She looks up at him, but he shines the flash light right in her eyes.

"Evening ma'am.  Have you been drinking?"

Delia clinches one eye closed as she tries to focus on the face through the blinding light.  The voice sounds very familiar as she tries to piece it together...

"Des... Despy?"

"What?  Lisence and registration ma'am..."

Delia obediently hands the papers over as she shakes her head a bit, knocking such a ridiculous idea from her head.  As the beam of light leaves her face and focuses on the papers in her hand, she looks at the face, and while it does not match the body, it is clearly Despayre, with a buzz cut.  She smirks at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation as she leans her head back, chuckling heartily as the officer stares at her with concern.

"Let me run these through my super secret police car computer thingy, and I'll be right back."

Delia winks, knowing that she's officially lost her mind.  She finishes laughing with a long winded sigh as she turns over to look around for any sign of more familiar visitors.  None appear, and after a moment, she is brought back to the present when the flashlight taps her window once more.  She rolls the window down again as the officer hands her the paper back.  She tosses them onto her seat as she looks back to Officer Despayre.

"Your prosthetic stomach is so realistic, Despy..."

"I beg your pardon?  My name is not 'Despy', it is Officer Richard Lickey."

"HAAAA!"

Delia continues to poke at his stomach until she hears his name.  She then leans forward, slapping her knee as she laughs hard at this.  However, the officer doesn't find the humor in any of this as he scowls at Delia.

"Is there something funny about the proud Lickey family name?  Do you know who my father and grandfather are?  Peter and Johnson Lickey?"

"Yes, Amy Marshall and Jessie Salco, at least z'at is what z'e os'er Bombshells call z'em behind z'eir backs, I assure...

Delia winks as if she is letting her best buddy in on the secret.  However, he doesn't seem to get it.  He shakes his head and places his hands on his waist.

"Ms. Darling, please step out of the vehicle.  I'm going to need you to perform a few field sobriety... test... thingies..."

"Oh... Oooooooooooooh-kay..."

Delia winks once more as she opens the door, stepping out of the pink Corvette.  She closes the door slowly to see another officer step out of his vehicle.  His light brown hair blows in the wind, while his hat rests between his ears.  Delia snickers at the sight of "Officer Angel" as he saunters over to the back end of the police car, leaning against it for back up.

"Okay, Ms. Darling. I need you to walk in a straight line toward Officer Oliver Klozof, and then back to me."

Delia chuckles wildly in an immature manner as she walks the line as if it were a runway presentation.  She does so very authorative, causing Officer Lickey and Officer Klozof to snap their fingers at her demanding walk.  She turns on the balls of her heels, leaning back to bat her eyelashes at Officer Klozof before walking over to Officer Lickey, spinning her hair around as she turns to face him.

"Now, if you will excuse me, I have to get to LAX to catch my flight..."

"Oh... Ohhhkay then.  You do that, ma'am.  When is your flight, in seven hours?"

Delia chuckles, thinking it to be another of Despayre's jokes as she gets back into the car.  Officer Lickey tips his hat at Delia and then rolls his eyes behind his black frame glasses as he juts a thumb out at Delia.  Officer Klozof shakes his head at this as the two step back into their car.  They drive off slowly, passing Delia as they roll down their window.

"Welcome to Arizona, Ms. Darling. I hope you enjoy your stay."

Delia's stomach churns at the thought of being in Arizona, until she sees the emblem on the side of the state trooper's vehicle.  She looks around, noticing the familiar cactus that looks like comedy actress Octavia Spencer spanking Oprah Winfrey, and the realization comes to pass that she is, in fact, in Tucson, Arizona.  She blinks, before noticing the sun starting to rise off in the distance.  She places her forehead in her hands as she groans, wondering why she woke up from a dream, into a nightmare...
[*Fade*]





"When one has acheived a level of success such as myself, everyone comes for you.  It doesn't matter if you have gold or not, they will come for you.  Success is like nectar to the vicious hornets." -Delia, darling if you must...



"No!

The single word cuts through the air like a whip, with it's venomous tone.  It gives us a small taste fo what we are in for, but it pales in comparison to the look of anger on Delia's face as she sits in a booth with her hands clasped around a virgin strawyberry dacquiri in a small coctail glass.  Her mouth sits ajar as she glares across the table, looking from her left to her right.  A masculine hand reaches across the table to clasp onto one of her hands, but she quickly withdraws it, resting it on her lap as her angry look intensifies.

Chris:  Petit, please...

Delia takes in a deep breath, as if she were thinking of a more clever way to say what she's about to say, but it is all for naught as she practically hisses once more at her father.

Delia:  No!  No fricken way, papa...

Chris:  I'm... I'm so sorry I gave you z'e impression z'at z'is was a request.  I was, however, hoping z'at you would be more open to z'e idea...

Delia seems to throw a fit like a three year old as she crosses her arms and begins shaking her head from side to side rapidly.  Her father groans before running his hands through his feahered grey hair, all in an attempt to hide his frustration.

Delia:  I am not a toddler, papa, and I refuse to have a babysitter...

Chris:  Babysitter?  Don't be ridiculous, darling.  Z'at is not at all what I was suggesting.

Delia sneers as she looks over just a touch to his right, staring a hole through whatever, or whoever, is next to her father.  She narrows her eyes and clinches her jaws as if she is trying to whis[er a secret to her father.

Delia:  It's... hideous... No, I will not accept z'is. I am a grown woman, and I can make my own decisions.

Chris:  Like hell you can!  I allowed z'is, and you literally died because of it... TWICE!  S'ank z'e Heavens z'at you were able to be revived.  I am putting my foot down on z'e matter, Cordelia...

Delia unclinches her jaw, but her eyes don't leave her target as we pan out slightly to see a rough looking ebony skinned woman who is staring just as angrily back at Delia.  However, she remains much better composed, though her messy curls flow over her face just enough to cover the wicked intent from behind her eyes.

Delia:  No.  Z'is...

Delia extends her hand, pointing right at the woman sitting next to her dad.  She holds out her finger as if she shouldn't have to explain any further what she means by "this", before rolling her eyes.

Delia:  ... z'is is unacceptable.  Couldn't you find a strapping young man to compliment my beauty?  I mean, it... it is a "she" is it not?

Chris:  You're being ridiculous.  I s'ought you told me you were an adult...

Delia:  Ugh, whatever!  *Air quotes* SHE... is hideous.  Z'ere has to be some sort of pretty girl who could watch my back, right?  But it's disgusting!

Woman:  I have a name...

Delia:  "It"... will suffice, I assure...

Delia glances over at the woman before returning her glare over to her father finally.  She closes her eyes, rubbing at her temples as her blonde locks flick around her fingers.  She opens her eyes once again, as if to settle with her father.

Delia:  I mean, what is her name anyway?  Raggedy Anne?  Basic Betty?  Even Natalie McKinley is prettier z'an z'is mess... Couldn't you hire her instead?

Chris:  Who?

Delia:  Right?  But still, at least she could add some make up and get her hair done and look somewhat of a woman... Z'is looks like somes'ing you would find on bumfight dot come.  Urrrrrgh!

Delia growls as she brings her drink up to her lips, chasing the straw with her tongue.  She sucks at it as if it had copious amounts of alcohol in it, despite the fact it has none in it at all.  She continues sucking it in as her father places a hand on the woman's to calm her down.

Chris:  Your attitude brings out z'e worst in os'ers, you know, darling?  Maxxine here is a lovely person.

Delia:  You... you fucked her, didn't you?

Chris:  What?  I don't see how z'at is...

Delia:  You did!  Ugh!  You have no taste!  How are we even related?  At least Tessa was somewhat pretty, but... Oh, I'm going to be sick.

Maxxine finally smashes her fist against the table, shaking everyone's drinks hard.  This causes Delia to straighten her posture up.  She tries to hide the fact that this startled her, but it doesn't seem to work on anyone else at the table, or beyond.

Maxxine:  Listen up, princess!  I will do my job, by keeping you safe from others, but if yu don't curb the attitude, I can't promise to keep you safe from me.

Delia gasps, followed immediately by a scoff as she points across the table.  She looks at her father with desparation in her eyes as her lip quivers angrily.

Delia: She's s'reatening me!  If you really want to keep me safe, you will fire her and find someone actually wor's a damn!  Now, daddy!

Chris:  It was sarcasm, darling.  You're being quite unreasonable.

Delia:  No, you are papa!  You heard her s'reaten my life.  Even if it were a joke, which it wasn't I assure... it is unprofessional, and I require everyone in my entourage to be professional at all times...  No, z'is will not do at all...

Maxxine:  The contract is signed, sweetheart.  You're stuck with me whether you like it or not.

The sarcasm dripping from Maxxine's tongue is very apparent to Delia, but Chris seems to have missed this one.  He crosses his arms over his chest in a showing of his authority.  Delia stares at him, telling him otherwise, but he doesn't waiver.  She tries her best to intimidate him, but it doesn't work whatsoever.  Once she realizes she's losing this battle, she pushes her bottom lip out as she attempts to work over her father with the pouty routine instead.

Delia:  I'm sorry, papa... I'm willing to look at os'er options.  I bet Natalie could use employment after she fell from z'e face of z'e planet.  I wondered if she might be pregnant wi's how quickly she disappeared... but z'en I remembered what she looked like, and yeah...  I'll see if management still has her number.

Chris:  I'm afraid not, petit.  Maxxine comes wi's amazing credentials.  I just have a gut feeling about her.

Delia:  Yeah, me too... it's called nausea.  I'm going to freaking puke all over her two dollar Goodwill blouse...

Delia points her finger at the back of her throat and makes a gagging noise as she looks down at her drink, finally admitting defeat.  Maxxine chuckles at Delia's child-like behavior, something most people don't get to see from her.  In a way, she sort of likes her in this state, mostly because she's not speaking.  Maxxine picks up her pint as she sips on it.  Chris looks around with an optimistic look on his face.

Chris:  Darling, won't you dance wi's one of z'ese strapping young gays?  It is what you enjoy, is it not?

Delia looks around, the weak house music playing in the background is almost nauseating as she sees the less than fabulous gay men hitting on one another.  Delia simply sighs and folds her arms on top of the table, resting her head on her arms as she groans, but otherwise remains quiet.

Chris:  Underground is z'e highest rated gay club in Glasgow according to my my google application on my phone.

Delia: You sound like an old man, papa... Nobody admits to using google anymore, and z'e certainly don't say "application"... "App" is much lazier, and hence trendier.  Plus, z'is place is boring.  It's like z'e worst fricken day ever......

Delia whines as she lets her eyes wander over the mild crowd.

Chris:  Come now, sweetheart... you love z'e gays.  

Delia:  Yeah, z'e pretty gays.  Z'ese gays are like z'e rejects.  Doesn't Wales have at least one or two pretty gay boys?

Maxxine:  We're in Scotland.

Delia:  Ugh same difference!  Some feeble country which succumbed to England, which would collapse independently... Gross food, no fashion sense... we might as well be on z'e African safari again...  Worst day ev-arrrrrrr, s'ank you papa...

Delia rolls her head over, burying her face in her arms as she murmurs.  Maxxine snickers a bit at Delias misery as her father simply shakes his head.  Her attitude is starting to draw attention from the patrons of this club.  He holds his hand up apologetically to them before returning hus attention back to his daughter.

Chris:  Chaque nuage a une doublure d'argent, petit.  Look at z'e bright side.  According to my Google "app"... your favorite singer is from Scotland.

Delia:  He isn't a "singer" papa... Gawd, you're impossible!  And even he had z'e sense to leave z'is God-forsaken place to sing wi's Rihanna and Ellie Goulding.  Nobody admits to being from Scotland, just as I'm ashamed to admit I'm even visiting!

This draws plenty of attention from the patrons of the club as they turn and start to walk toward her all at once.  Delia sneers as if telling them to bring it on.  This only draws more hatred as a couple rather large women make their way over toward Delia.  Without so much as a word, they pull her from the booth, raising their fists to give her a beat down.  Delia swings her hand forward, slapping one, but the other catches her with a hard fist to the stomach.  Her father looks stunned, but Maxxine immediately shoves the table a few feet to the right as she steps out of the booth.  She grabs the one who is wailing on Delia, and she slams her into a nearby wall, so hard that it knocks a few pictures off.  She then turns to the other one and delivers a Big Boot to the side of her head, knocking her to the side.  A ballsy boy comes charging at her, but Maxxine lifts him up onto her shoulders.  She disposes of him, right through the table as if it were nothing.  She dusts her hands off, looking around at the others who are ready to come at her.  She rubs her hands together and goads them, but they give in to caution.  Chris walks over to Delia and helps her up to her feet.  Delia looks around as if she doesn't even know what just happened.  Once it all settles in, she puffs her chest out proudly as she catches her breath.

Delia:  Z'at's right bitches!  Nobody messes wi's Delia FUCKING Darling!  Try waxing your chests, and you might be pretty enough to be in my crew...

Delia doesn't even waste any time as she walks off, acting like she handled this all on her own.  Chris nods at Maxxine who quicly covers her on her way out the door.  Chris follows, nodding his head in apology to everyone, backing through the door to join his daughter and bodyguard.
[*Fade*]





"When life hands you lemons, squeeze them into your opponent's eyes, and then bitch slap them into next week.  Or, add some vodka, and forget all about your troubles." -Delia, darling if you must...



The sky is dark and dreary for being mid afternoon, as the rain pitter patters against the grass, and concrete pathways as we find our way into the Glasgow Necropolis.  The rain slowly picks up more as we hear the clicking of heels against the ground at the large stone entrance.  Off in the distance, we see a mausoleum resting on top of the highest hill, with a large cross that threatens to tear at the sky itself.  We turns to the large gate to see Delia Darling, dressed in a black business style dress suit.  Her legs are covered in tasteful black pantyhose, tracing up her legs to the knee length black dress and blazer combo.  Ruffles of her blouse stick out from her blazer, revealing a small amount of cleavage, just enough to get a good view of the silver and diamond encrusted snowflake charm of her necklace.  She is hearing a blonde bob cut wig, and a black hat with a veil to shroud her face.  Clutched in her right hand are three black roses as she wastes no time in walking along the pathway, toward her destination.  She bows her head respectfully as she passes the many resting places for the deceased, something we wouldn't expect from her.  She makes her way to a side path where a blue tarp is flutters in the wind a few yards in the distance, held up by four metal poles.  It seems to be quite large, but she isn't surprised.  She walks over to it, careful once she reaches the grassy part.  The ground sloshes against her heels as she trends slowly.  Once she reaches the tent, she lifts her veil and rubs her cherry lips together softly.

Delia:  People would expect z'e Queen of z'e Go's, Misty, to be in a cemetery, but me?  I assure you all z'at z'ere is a purpose to z'is...

Delia looks around at all of the no one who is surrounding her.  She lowers her eyes in a fake showing of disappointment.  She shrugs her shoulders as she walks past three open graves.  Walking along the blue carpet set on the ground, she makes her way to a cherry wood podium that rests in front of several vacant chairs.  She places a black book on the podium, as well as the three roses.  She opens the book and then clears her throat as she stares at the empty seats.

Delia:  Z'e following is from z'e second Maccabees, 12:43 s'rough 46... "And making a gathering, he [Judas] sent twelve thousand drachms of silver to Jerusalem for sacrifice to be offered for the sins of the dead, thinking well and religiously concerning the resurrection, (For if he had not hoped that they that were slain should rise again, it would have seemed superfluous and vain to pray for the dead,) And because he considered that they who had fallen asleep with godliness, had great grace laid up for them. It is therefore a holy and wholesome thought to pray for the dead, that they may be loosed from sins."

Delia nods her head as she looks from one side of the seating area to the next.  She flips the page over nd then clasps her hands together as she looks ahead toward the middle of the seating area.

Delia:  We are gas'ered... er, I am gas'ered here today, to remember z'e careers of a star and a bombshell wi's potentially bright futures ahead of z'em, all brought to a halt much, much too early.  Tru's be told, nobody really cares.  I wouldn't, but I am paid to care... sorry bout it.

Delia shrugs her shoulders with a playful chuckles.  She licks her index finger as she begins thumbing through a few pages of the black book.  Despite the fact that it is shrouded in black, upon further inspection, we see that it is the Burn Book, hidden by a black book cover.  Delia studies the many pages of the book that had been filled over the last year or so, before coming to a page with a new entry.  There is a picture of Travis Nathaniel Andrews pasted into it.  In pink writing next to the picture, it has his name printed, along with the word "Who?"  Delia nods her head slowly as she holds the book up for the crowd to see.

Delia:  Exactly.  If you know who z'is man is, I beg you to inform me, because I haven't z'e slightest idea.  Trenton Norman Anderson... I mean, are you new?  It's a good possibility you could have been around for years, and accomplished fuck all, because SCW is filled wi's wastes of space such as z'is.  Not one s'ing original about z'em.  Masics by definition.  Z'ey all make claims z'at z'ey are z'e best z'e world of wrestling has to offer, as if z'ey were some kind of wrestling God.  Title reigns from promotions nobody has ever heard of to justify z'eir Napoleon complexes, yet when it comes time to back z'is up here, z'ey can't even get lucky enough to get z'e Roulette Championship, a belt held by so many no-namers and newbies.  Z'e divisions have been saved wi's two excellent champions now, but fuck... it doesn't take talent to pin someone in pudding, or rip off a tuxedo...

Delia shakes her head in disgust as she groans in displeasure.  She clicks her tongue once she is finished, just to add emphasis to her disappointment.  She takes a deep breath and then clasps her hands together once more.

Delia:  Let's assume you are new.  As I said, I wouldn't know because you are a dime a dozen as z'ey say.  You are no gift.  You are a pest, a tumor on z'e very spine of z'is business.  Your only purpose is to make real champions look better by comparison.  Nobody would care if champions such as myself defeated z'e same people over and over again, or else I'd be facing Roxi Johnson and Derek S'orn or somes'ing...  Sometimes we need fodder, and z'at, sir, is all you are, Mr. Ans'ony or whatever...  Someone to make us look better.  Sure, my partner fits in z'e same category as you, but...

Delia shrugs once again as she flips to the next page.  She stops at a picture of Melody Grace.  She chuckles as her eyes seem to sparkle in delight, however, she moves past it to an entry with a picture of Steve Ramone.  She looks down at it, tracing her finger over the pink wording written next to his picture.  "Proof that drugs are bad."  She giggles as she holds the book up, showing it off to all of the people who are not there, acting as if there were hundreds of them.  She takes her time showing it off before she sets the book down on the podium.

Delia:  I'm one who saves z'e best for last.  While Melody Grace is far from z'e best... which is me of course... she is better z'an Steve Ramone.  She got a win at Inception, which is much more z'an Steve can boast.  Of course, you can't account for biased refereeing, but a win is a win, isn't it Mel, darling?  But, I am being nice and giving Steve his time to shine.  Z'e mere mentioning of his name makes him somewhat relevant, or in his eyes, it will make him a star.  Z'ere will be time for you shortly, Mel.

Delia winks and then sticks her tongue out slightly, biting onto it playfully before she looks back down to the page, being reminded of what she's meant to be talking about.

Delia:  Steve Ramone... a man who faced a boy who barely has peach fuzz on his scrotum, a half retarded Italian, and a man who had all of s'ree matches in his year and a half of being in SCW... and still lost!  You could have been partnered wi's a brick and a flaming bag of dog shit, and should have still won, yet... you still found a way, didn't you Steve?  Bravo, z'at is an accomplishment.  Let's not forget, just under one year ago...  You drew z'e luckiest partner you could have hoped for in Odette Ryder.  Everyone s'ought she would carry you to being a potential Heavyweight Champion.  She could have to, but wait...  Oh, does z'is seem familiar to you yet, Steven, darling?

Delia sneers directly at the camera as she cackles wickedly.  She relishes in this memory, knowing that Steve is as well, but she wants to let everyone in on their little inside joke.

Delia:  I ended z'at dream, didn't I?  I got into Odette's head.  I conspired wi's Gabriel to move past you two like a stepping stone, all while screwing you over in z'e end.  Sure, I didn't know I was playing you at z'e time, but it does make for interesting conversation during our strategy meeting, doesn't it?  How I knocked you out of z'e tournament last year, and how I ended z'e only chance you could have had at z'e SCW Heavyweight Championship?  You were so confident z'at you would walk past z'e drunk and z'e new girl, but... it was not to be.  And here again, fortune smiles upon you as you've drawn z'e best possible option for a partner in z'e tournament.  A woman who carried a talentless drunk to z'e finals last year.  And guess what?  I have improved, and I have a championship reign of over four mon's to prove it now.  Who knows, I just might carry you to a trophy, and a shot at z'e SCW Heavyweight Championship, which you will inevitably botch in true Steve Ramone fashion, no doubt?

Delia winks and then looks down at the picture.  She shakes her head in disgust as she looks at what should be considered a handsome smile from Steve Ramone.  She literally shudders as she places her hand over her eyes.

Delia:  No... no, I can't do z'is.  Steve, don't even get in z'e ring at all during z'is tournament.  If my female opponent tags out, do z'e smart s'ing and tag me right back in.  Don't wrestle, because you are not good at it.  Stay out of my way, because I was robbed of z'e trophy last year, and I refuse to be robbed of it again.  Be smart about z'is, because we only get one shot, and I won't let you fuck z'is up for me.  I've given you enough mention, it is time to move on, because... yeah... you're useless.

Delia turns the page back to the picture of Melody Grace, but before she can say anything about Melody, she immediately places her hands over the page in the book.  She looks up and into the camera with narrowed eyes.

Delia:  Before we get on to our C-List version of a Main Attraction, I want to take a moment to ask a genuine question to SCW management...

Delia tilts her head to the side, sucking in a sharp breath as she looks to be a mixture of hurt and angry at the same time.

Delia:  Why do you hate me so much?

Delia gives pause, as if she is waiting for a response.  She tilts her head to the other side, softening up her eyes a little.

Delia:  No, it is a legitimate question.  Why do you hate me?  Why do you take every opportunity to sabotage me?  I assumed z'is was because I single-handedly drove Vixen and Spike Staggs from SCW, but no... z'is has been going on since z'e day I signed my contract to compete.  I was given Es'an Brody as a partner last year in you *air quotes* random pairings.  Am I just unlucky, or do you hate me?  I've been given z'e gift of true beauty and talent, so I know I'm not unlucky, or else I'd look and wrestle like Jessie Salco or Amy Marshall.  No, so why do you pair me wi's people such as Es'an Brody and Steve Ramone?  At least Es'an had an excuse for being a piss poor competitor, but Steve?  He's not on drugs, according to his Wikipedia page anyway... It is debatable...  No, I bet I pulled a good partner like Caleb Houston or Andrew Watts, or even Alex Kaelin, but you couldn't stand z'e fact z'at I would win z'e tournament wi'sout a doubt.  So yu reached to z'e very bottom of z'e bag and z'e SCW roster, and you pulled out Steve Ramone... I bet you got even took a break from pulling names to pull your pas'etic, flaccid cocks to my expected misery.  You sick, twisted fucks...  Well, guess what?  I'm still going to win, just to spite you ungrateful bastards...  Sorry bout it...

Delia spits venom at the camera as she glares down at Melody's picture.  She goes silent for what seems like hours, though it is only about a minute of intense staring.  She sucks in a deep breath through her nostrils as she studies the picture, organizing her thoughts.

Delia:  Melody, you cunt...

Delia quickly covers her mouth up as she gasps.  She looks around as if she were embarrassed by what she'd just said.  She slowly removes her hand from her mouth as her head sinks down a bit.  She shakes her head as an apologetic look crosses her face.

Delia:  I'm... I'm sorry.  I don't know what came over me.  Z'at was completely uncalled for.  It was honestly ignorant of me to say, and quite inaccurate.  I apologize for my mix up, Mel.  Forgive me?  I mean, to be a cunt, you have to be smart...

Delia's apologetic look slowly drains from her face as she once again sticks her tongue out, biting onto it as she tries to stifle her own laughter.  She slides her tongue tenderly back into her mouth as she bites onto her bottom lip, groaning as she does her best to hold her laughter back.  With a slow breath, she looks back to the camera, her eyes sparkling with devious intent.

Delia:  Let's face it, Mel... you're not smart.  Z'e last book you read was Doctor Suess.  And, I'm not talking about somes'ing as complex as Green Eggs and Ham or Cat in z'e Hat... I'm talking somes'ing as simple and basic as One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish; a concept z'at you can at least grasp... debatably of course... No, you see... you are nos'ing but a cliche, and a boring one at z'at.  You are an unintelligent version of Odette Stevens.  At least she can be proper cunty and fun to argue wi's.  But you?  You started out at her biggest fan.  Decent enough taste, I suppose, but you decided you wanted to be just like her... How is z'at working out for you?

Delia reaches under the podium and pulls out the SCW World Bombshell Championship.  She places it on her shoulder, looking over to it with a smile that goes from ear to ear.

Delia:  Not so good, I see... But, to argue in favor of you, Odette never had to go s'rough someone such as myself, except when I knocked her from z'e tournament.  You won a tag match due to partial calls from a referee who is mad z'at she cannot sit wi's us any longer.  Odette won z'e Bombshell Tag Team Championships... twice.  You defeated Necra Octavian Kane, a woman who had a shot at my belt just two weeks ago.  Odette won z'e Bombshell Championship... twice.    Do you catch my drift, Mellie?  You are no Odette Stevens, nee Ryder.  You will never be in her league, and you most certainly will never be in mine.  Z'e only benefit you have is z'at you aren't going into z'is match alone like I am.

9
Climax Control Archives / My Little Bundle of Joy
« on: December 12, 2014, 10:34:07 AM »
 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 Staggs”.  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:  â€œI 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.

10
Climax Control Archives / All Part of the Plan!
« on: October 03, 2014, 10:17:22 PM »
 
>[*Scene One – It’s All Part of the Plan!*]

“Our face is our identity.  It is how we connect with the world around us.  People have a need to connect, so I’ve developed a second face for them to connect with.“ –Delia, darling if you must


*Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah…*

There is a clashing of voices inside of Delia’s head as she plays it over all at once.  Every segment from Climax Control.  Every Tweet since Violent Conduct II.  Every word, every, syllable, every letter seems to stream through her head all at once.  This was like the reverse of the Burn Book done on audio from every favorite SCW star and Bombshell.  Gene Banton Junior, Misty, Necra Octavian Kane, and Roxi Johnson… just to name a few… were among the voices racing through Delia’s mind rapidly, and on repeat.  So many war threats.  So many mentions of the word “luck”.  So much hate rained down on the Mean Girls, as well as Delia personally.  With how often the Mean Girl tries to make people angry, you would think that she would be happy about this, but she isn’t.  Happy would not be the word to describe it as the usual demur has been wiped off of her face.  There is a blank, zoned out look upon her face as she sits down in a furry pink chair.  We pan out slightly to see that she is spread out across it casually.  She runs her fingers through her brunette hair, still done up in curls from Climax Control, despite the fact that they have made a trip back to Los Angeles.

“War…”

“Luck…”

“Wager… first defense…”

Delia narrows her eyes as she purses her lips together tightly, looking as if she is about to scream.  However, instead of screaming, she lets out a laugh.  â€œHappy” might not have been the right word, because something along the lines of “elated” or “ecstatic” would be much more fitting.  She tilts her head back as the sound of a cork popping can be heard off in the distance.  We pan out further to see that Delia is seated in the Mean Girls clubhouse with all current Mean Girls present.  Alex Jeffries, better known as Holly Wood on stage, has popped a bottle open as he pours it over a pyramid of glasses.  Mercedes has just finished touching up her make up in one of the many mirrors, while Angelica and Tessa talk while wheeling out trays of snacks, a variety of vegetables and low fat dip… I mean, why not?  It’s a celebration!  Though, you wouldn’t know it the way Veronica is storming about.  She has ripped down a poster from the wall, leaving a bare spot on the pink walls.  She tears the lengthy poster to shreds as she throws it on the ground.  She pulls a marker out and walks over to another wall that sports the same posters, only in place of the bare spot, there is a poster of Liz Smalls.  Veronica pulls a black sharpie pen from her pocket and she begins to alter Liz’s face some, drawing the dirtiest looking mustache and goatee that she can on such short notice.  She’s prepared to write her own Burn Book Entry on Liz directly on the feature wall itself when Delia speaks up.

Delia:  Five G’s, darling… Good Gawd Girl Getta Grip!  I mean, it is because of her z’at you have twice as much gold as Mercedes and myself, no?

Veronica:  That whiny little ba… BITCH…she could have stopped me from getting embarrassed out there.  I mean, I hate to tell you girls that I told you so, but… Sorry bout it.

Alex:  You coulda stopped it too by not getting locked in a submission hold, hun-ty.

Veronica turns around and glares a hole through Alex.  The room goes quiet as everyone stares at the situation that has just arisen.  Everyone seems to be shocked, or trying to act as if they can’t believe that Alex has just said this, except for Delia, who has a wicked smirk on her face as she waits for the fireworks to start.

Veronica:  Don’t make me slap the taste out of your mouth, ladyboy!  You are still on my shit list for what you said about me after Violent Conduct, and unless you want to see a real bitch appear before your very eyes, I suggest you shut up, unless it is to apologize to me!

Alex:  Too late, sweetheart…

Alex raises his eyebrows as he turns away from her.  He acts as if he is trying to keep it under his breath, but he obviously meant for this one to be heard as there is a mysterious “oooooooh!” that has come from at least two of the other Mean Girls.  Veronica balls her fists up and takes three steps toward Alex when the tallest Mean Girl wraps her arms around Veronica’s waist, stopping her and pulling her back about ten feet.

Angelica:  Girl, it’s not even worth it.  MEN aren’t lucky enough to escape their shitty, irrational moods after a week..

Angelica practically drags Veronica over to the balcony doors where they disappear.  Delia sighs as she uncrosses her legs and stands up from her chair.  She walks over to where Alex is standing, and she grabs the first glass of pink champagne, letting the bubbles tickle her nose for a second before taking a small sip.  Mercedes grabs one as well while Tessa inches her way over toward the door to eavesdrop on the other conversation.  Mercedes downs the flute glass and slams it back down like a frat boy asking for more. Alex smirks and pours her some more before raising his glass in the air.

Alex:  Everyone wanted to say that Mean Girls winning was a fluke.  The only fluke that SCW saw was that this didn’t happen so much fucking sooner…

Mercedes:  Amen to that, sister!

Alex:  Liz might be gone, but she is not forgotten, and like it or not, she was part of this movement during the biggest part of it, and she did help us get yet another belt.  If not for her, then we wouldn’t be toasting to this occasion here today.  Can we give a toast to Liz?

Mercedes:  Yes, of c…

Delia clears her throat loudly as she glares with her deep, dark brown eyes, stopping Mercedes dead in her tracks, though it is more out of intrigue than it is of fear of retaliation.  Delia narrows her eyes as she stares at Alex, letting her nostrils flare out some.  Alex raises an eyebrow as his mouth opens, ready to speak.  Delia shakes her head from side to side, warning him not to make another peep before she finally speaks.

Delia:  Liz was a part of z’e plan, and nos’ing more.  Lets not glorify her for more z’an she actually was, okay?

Alex:  What the…?

Delia rolls her eyes as she opens her mouth, sliding her tongue back and forth over her bottom lip, trying to think of the most polite way to say what she has to say.  Mercedes chuckles as if she somehow caught wind of what Delia was thinking, while Alex is still in shock.

Delia:  What z’e what?  Did you actually s’ink z’at she was my best friend?  After what we went s’rough in z’e beginning?  Girl, please…  Liz was nos’ing more z’an a whining, sniveling attention whore, emphasis on WHORE…

Mercedes:  I’m hearing it, but I don’t think I actually believe it yet.  Could you repeat that for me?

Delia:  Liz Smalls served her purpose.  She had a certain base of followers who were beneficial to us, whes’er z’ey loved us or hated us, or in many cases, bo’s.

Delia shrugs her shoulders as she traces her hair line, gently pushing one of hr curled bangs back behind her ear.  She bats her eyelashes, as if she is about to drop a major truth bomb on the crowd before her.

Delia:  When I hated her, people loved us.  When I loved her, z’ey hated us.  And z’ey hated us even more because we “pretended” to hate her, only to let her join, and parade her and her problems around on a bigger stage.  I got back to New York where I made some contacts, s’anks to my short time in Uncensored as her manager.

As if her intentions have just become clear, when they should have been clear the whole time, Delia winks to Alex and Mercedes.  She gives a gentle nudge to Mercedes before doing the same to Alex.

Delia:  In exchange for doing exactly what I said I would do in officially ruining Liz Smalls, I double crossed people, which brings us to a completely new level of controversy.  Controversy sells, and now we have more money coming in, and we have everyone talking about us.

Delia looks from Mercedes to Alex with a wide smirk on her face, a new level of evil genius having just been achieved.  She waves her long, wavy pony tail around behind her, making sure that it is flowing perfectly before she seems to lock attention with both at the same time.

Delia:  So, instead of toasting Liz for being a pawn in my little game… why don’t we toast to z’e evil genius who orchestrated z’is whole s’ing?  To Delia FUCKING Darling, for being such a stone cold bitch…

Delia extends her glass forward as both stare at her, unknowingly, and admittedly still in quite a bit of shock.  Delia widens her eyes and scoffs that they don’t immediately clanks glasses with her.  She rolls her eyes at Alex and looks directly to Mercedes.

Delia:  Who said z’at you were z’e only one allowed to be cold and calculated, darling? Call me Black Mamba if you like…

Mercedes smiles as she can’t help but toast the dirtiest trick she’s seen in quite some time.  There is a genuine respect for the egocentrics displayed by Delia, something that perhaps could rival her own.  Both ladies look to Alex, who looks pained at what he’s just heard.  He hesitates until Delia grabs onto his wrist firmly, pulling his hand forward to clank glasses against his will.  He lowers his eyes to the ground as the two ladies take a taste of their champagne, sharing a laugh as Alex just shakes his head.  He takes a sip from his glass, but it is not one to remember… it is one that he hopes will make him forget what he’s just heard.  Instead, it sours his stomach.  However, Tessa squeals from across the room as she charges forward, leaping onto Delia’s back, which annoys her until she covers Delia’s face in kisses.

Tessa:  Ye wasn’t lying, then?!  I knew ye didn’t like the bloody fuckin’ prat!

Delia straightens up her posture, holding up Tessa’s weight as if it weren’t anything.  She finally sighs in annoyance, though it is only for show as her face glows with pride.  Tessa smacks Delia on her backside as if they were football teammates and Delia just scored the winning goal for their team.  Delia raises an eyebrow as she places a hand in Tessa’s face.

Tessa:  No joke.. I fuckin’ hated that bird with every fiber of me being.  I wanted to slap her any time she opened her disgustingly deformed beak and…

Alex:  Tessa, would you please shut the hell up?  I guess I was the only one here who actually cared about Liz.  But then again, I was the one who got her clean, and helped cure her eating disorder by making her eat a damn burger while Delia got all the credit for playing nice on Twitter.

Delia:  To be fair, darling, wi’s z’e trouble Liz got into on Twitter, I had two full time jobs on my hand wi’s z’at one…

Tessa and Mercedes chuckle at Delia’s quip, but Alex only narrows his eyes before doing the unthinkable.  He splashes his glass of champagne in Delia’s face, ruining her perfectly done make up, and getting Tessa and Mercedes with some side splash.  Alex drops the glass to the ground before turning to leave the room.

Delia:  Um, ex-CUSE YOU BITCH!  Who do you s’ink you are?

Alex turns around only long enough to shoot Delia the dirtiest look she has seen since convincing Misty’s daughter to sit through a Burn Book entry about her beloved step mother.  Alex lets it linger for a moment before letting out an angry chuckle.

Alex:  I know who I am.  I’m the most fabulous out of this entire group because I’m beautiful on the inside and out.  That is more than any of you can say, only I didn’t see it until now.  So, I think you might want to let Veronica know she can take down my poster too, or draw mustaches on it…

Delia blinks for a second as she takes everything in.  However, as Alex trails off and turns back around toward the door, Delia opens her mouth, letting out a dramatic “uhhhh” to emphasize what she’s about to say now…

Delia:  Too late… there is already a mustache on your poster hun-TY…

Delia chuckles while the others seem uncomfortable.  Alex shakes in anger as he pauses, thinking about rebutting, but he walks over toward the door and flings it open, taking his leave toward the private elevator just outside of the suite.  Delia looks over to Tessa and Mercedes with a deadly serious look on her face.

Delia:  If you two agree wi’s Mr. Jeffries, he has just shown you where z’e door is.  I don’t want to see one of you leave in a week, or in a mon’s.  If you didn’t know who I was when you joined, z’en you have just been re-introduced.  If you harbor any bad feelings, by all means, walk out of z’at door.  No hard feelings.  No wars, because I’ve got enough of z’em right now.  Liz is gone now, so I refuse to let Mean Girl be seen as a joke.

Delia stares both of them down with a sinister look.  Mercedes’ look of shock fades to one of joy, sighing in relief as she takes another sip of her champagne.  She looks over to Tessa who seems to be twiddling her thumbs, thinking it over carefully.  Delia intensifies her look, causing Tessa to quickly pick up a glass, taking a sip of her own.

Delia:  Anyone?  Z’e “no war” clause expires in like ten seconds, ladies…

Mercedes:  If anything, I actually respect you more now than ever.  You can count on me sticking around for the long haul.

Delia:  Tessa?

Tessa has just taken another sip, but she nods her head and mumbles something into her glass.  Delia’s sinister look breaks and a instantly turns to that of pure joy.  She claps her hands together, lacing her fingers as she turns around toward the stereo.

Delia:  Excellent!  Now, what kind of party is z’is z’at we don’t have any music playing… Shall we revisit “Champion” by RuPaul?

Delia begins rattling off other songs and artists that she favors as Mercedes and Tessa share a “wow” expression before turning to follow after Delia.  Delia picks up an iPod that is connected to the stereo as she cues up music.
[*Fade*]




>[*Scene Two – Relaxation*]

“Every now and then, you need to take time for yourself.  All work and no play makes Delia a dull girl.“ –Delia, darling if you must



We can hear the soft, sensual moaning coming from inside of a hotel suite in Waco, Texas.  The lights are all off inside of the room, but there is a nice glow coming from the many candles spread around the room.  Delia’s deep, almost raspy moans seem to echo through the room as we look around, yet we see no one.  We can hear the soft panting of a man along with it, but it is completely overrun by Delia’s moans that are getting louder by the moment.  She gasps and then shudders as we turn to see her head poking out from under a sheet, with a lump of a person underneath the sheet.  She grips onto the bed frame as she leans her head back, gasping.

Delia:  Right z’ere, just like z’at, darling… Ohhhh yeahhhh…

She groans once more as she closes her eyes, letting them rest for a moment as she flings the sheet off of herself.  However, we are focused only on the look of pure ecstasy on her face for now.  The door slowly opens, but she can’t hear it over her own groaning.  She bites on her bottom lip hard as she scoots up slightly.  We pan over to see her father walking into the room.  He is distracted with a small bouquet of flowers in his hand, as well as a plate of “French” pastries.  He sets them down on the table and then turns to see the scene going on in the bed.  He pauses and his eyes widen for a second.  He stares and then finally, his expression softens up into a warm smile.  He sighs and reflects on his memories of such activities with his own wife.  He nods his head as his smile widens, before he finally speaks.

Chris:  Z’at is z’e sweetest s’ing I’ve seen in a long time.  Do you mind if I join in?

Delia:  I could use anos’er set of hands, papa.  Please do…

WHAT?!?!?!?!

We slowly pan over to find Delia, fully dressed as if she had just gotten in from an evening out.  The only thing bare on her is her feet, which her boyfriend, Eric Paisano is gently rubbing.  He raises his hand slightly as he waves his hand at Chris to let him know that he’s got this.  Chris nods his head as he walks over across the room to a small partition that separates the room from a living area.  He disappears through the doorway as Delia resumes her moaning.  Eric smirks widely as he really gets in there.

Eric:  Just think… this is only a small taste of the pleasure I could give you.

He whispers beneath his breath as he tries to say this so that Delia’s father doesn’t hear it from the other room.  The thrill of possibly getting caught turns him on, and this shines through his voice.  However, Delia’s moaning stops and turns into a long, drawn out negative “mmm mmmm…”  Eric’s face lights up with this challenge as Delia lifts herself up slightly.  She looks at Eric as if to drive her point home.

Delia:  I’ve already told you z’at I don’t want to ruin what we have wi’s somes’ing as messy as sex.  Not right now.  Not until I know we’ve built somes’ing greater.  I don’t want…

Delia stares down at Eric, but what she sees is not Eric.  She sees Drake Green’s tattoos on his bare arms and chest.  She sees him thrusting toward her, and she gasps before pulling her foot away from Eric.  She can hear her own words and moans echoing in her mind, and it nearly turns her stomach as she brings her knees up to her chest.  Eric looks confused as he slowly crawls up toward Delia.

Eric:  It’s okay.  You don’t need to explain any further.  You’ve already told me about the Drake thing, and it’s okay.  We weren’t together yet, and I can’t say that I didn’t have a fling or two before we got together either.

Delia:  Yeah, z’at really makes me feel better…

Delia rolls her eyes as she pulls away from Eric’s attempt at embracing her.  She sits her chin on her knees as she looks sullen.  Her expression is so wounded that it makes Eric look saddened just by looking at her.  He tries to embrace her again, but she brushes his hand away from her body as she lies down on her side, facing away from him.

Delia:  For you, z’at is normal.  For me to have done what I did was just… I’m… I’m so ashamed, and I don’t even know how to explain it to make you understand.

Eric:  Then don’t.

Delia looks shocked at Eric’s statement.  Eric thinks it over for a second, realizing how calloused that sounded before he lies down behind her, wrapping an arm around her gently, cradling her against himself.  He brushes a strand of her dark hair out of her face and plants a kiss on her cheek.

Eric:  What I meant was, don’t try to make me understand, because the chances are, that I won’t.  But that doesn’t mean that I won’t still support your decision.  Plus, the anticipation building up will only make it that much better in the end.  I’m a patient guy, and I know you are worth the wait.

Delia’s angry expression fades to a sweet smile as she wraps her hand in his.  Feeling his big, warm hand around hers was a comfort that she hadn’t felt in a very long time.  This moment right here was something she never thought she would have ever again, yet here she is… it wasn’t a dream, because she felt every inch of his body pressed against hers.  She feels his warmth enveloping her, and she could almost fall asleep just from the soothing tone in his voice right now.

Eric:  Liz and I have talked about this and…

Delia:  Really?  Liz again?  Ugh, she’s gone now, so could we please not talk about her anymore?  I’m so over it anyway…

Eric:  Yeah, I’m sure you are.  But you do know that Liz and I are very close friends, and that’s never going to change, no matter how hard you try to convince everyone that you don’t miss her too.

Delia chuckles and rolls her eyes before closing them and sinking further into Eric’s embrace.  Eric slowly shakes his head and smirks at Delia’s attempt to fool him.  He gently strokes her hair, running his fingers through it slowly as he feels the silky smooth locks fall from between them.

Eric:  You might be able to lie to everyone else around you, and manipulate them, but I’m not buying it.  You and Liz were close, and it’s okay to miss someone that you were close with.

Delia:  I don’t miss Liz, honestly.  I admitted z’at I used her star power to elevate my own in z’e United States.  If it helps you accept it easier, z’en you can pretend I miss Liz.

Eric:  Then say you do, and let’s see if I believe you.  Convince me.

Delia opens her eyes as she turns over onto her back, staring right into Eric’s wide blue eyes.  She giggles before playfully shoving him.  He snickers before hovering over Delia, daring her to try.  She licks at her lips playfully before looking him directly in the eyes, putting on a playfully dramatic voice.

Delia:  Oh, how I miss my dearest sister, Elizabeth Nicole Smalls…  Not a day has gone by z’is week where I did not miss her wi’s every fiber of my being…

Delia giggles as she rolls her eyes and then she tries to flip over onto her side once more, but Eric holds her in place.  He winks at her before gently running his index finger along her chin and jaw line.

Eric:  Now, tell me what you’re calling “the truth”…  Tell me how you used Liz.  Convince me.

Delia gets a serious expression on her face, the one that we are all familiar with.  She stares into Eric’s eyes silently for a few moments before taking in a deep breath.  At the last second, she avoids eye contact with him while narrowing her eyes.

Delia:  I was glad when z’at immature, sad, naïve little girl left our group of sisters.  I never liked Liz, and I made good on my promise to ruin h…

Eric:  *Chuckles*  You’re lying!  I thought you were supposedly a great liar, but you’re clearly the worst!

Delia:  You wouldn’t know z’e trus’ if it bit you on z’e…

Eric:  On the what?!

Eric playfully raises his voice, challenging her as Delia leans up and nips at his nose playfully.  Eric looks shocked as his mouth opens.  Delia laughs, and the laughter only escalates when Eric rolls over on top of her, holding her prisoner.  However, Delia’s defiant nature causes her to sit up slightly, taking another gummy nip at his nose.  He lifts her chin up and passionately kisses her lips.  She falls deep into the hypnosis of his kiss, of his enchanting eyes, of his pure essence.  He literally takes her breath away as he gently lays her back against the pillow.  He rolls off of her, and off of the bed as he makes his way over to the mini fridge.  He pulls out a can of Coca Cola, and a mineral water.  He pops the can open and then sets the water down in front of Delia.  As she is catching her breath, he leans down over her, ready to kiss her again.  As she puts her lips together, Eric pulls away and says one word.

Eric:  DeLIAR!

Delia playfully slaps him as she laughs again.  Eric sets his soda down on the night stand next to Delia’s water and then he slowly backs up toward the bathroom.  Delia shakes her head as she softens her expression.  She looks down at her phone, reading the last Tweets that she shared with Liz.  Her expression saddens up slightly as she stares at the picture of Liz.  No one is around, so she doesn’t fight the single tear that rolls down her cheek.  She sniffles, and then goes to wipe it away from her face.  She is startled when her phone rings.  Angelica’s picture comes over the screen and Delia rolls her eyes, ready to set it down when someone takes the phone from her.  She scoffs and looks over her shoulders to see Drake sitting there once more.  He sets the phone down behind him as he leans in, tilting Delia’s head back, ready to kiss her when she pushes his face away.

Delia:  Ugh!  I told you before z’at it was a mistake!  I only did it to piss off Misty, but I was so disgusted wi’s myself, I couldn’t even rub it in Misty’s face!  You disgust me…

”Drake” *In Eric's voice*:  You can always tell when you’re lying because you refuse to look people in the eyes when you’re lying.  You liked every minute of him ravaging your body.  It’s okay though.  I’ve had many a night like that myself…

Delia reaches back to slap “Drake” when he fades once more.  When Delia snaps back to reality, he phone is still ringing.  She immediately slides her finger across the screen as she listens prepares to speak, but she is cut off.

Angelica:  Oh em gee… you seriously let Alex walk out the other night?  That’s so fricken messed up!  Luckily I talked to him and…

Delia slowly feels a few tears streaming down her cheek as she can’t help sniffling.  He whimpers into the phone, causing Angelica to immediately stop talking.  Delia tries to catch her breath as she begins speaking.

Delia:  Angie, I… I really need someone to talk to.

Angelica:  Oh my gawd, what happened?  Did that Eric guy…

Delia looks toward the bathroom door as she hears the showerhead running.  She takes a few shallow breaths before sighing once again, almost choking on her breaths.  She sits up in the bed, letting her feet hang off of the edge as she tucks the phone against her shoulder.

Delia:  No… I did somes’ing a few weeks back, and I didn’t tell anyone because I was ashamed.  I s’ought I was over it, but clearly I’m not…  It… it was after our fight before Violent Conduct.  I was so mad, and I just needed to blow off some steam.  So I had a few too many drinks, and bought a bottle of scotch.

Angelica:  I know you’re like trying to be sober and stuff, but a few too many drinks is nothing to be ashamed of…

Delia:  But, I took z’at bottle to Drake Green’s hotel room and…

Angelica is heard gasping as Delia continues on.  However, her voice trails off as the camera pans out slightly.  She motions with her hands as she talks, but the screen slowly starts to go black…
[*Fade*]




>[*Scene Three – Let the Fierceness Begin!*]

“Respect is something given.  People say that you have to earn respect, but they give it away so freely.  Yet, when someone actually earns their respect, they find reasons not to give it.  That is why I have respect for very few. I don’t have enough to give away so freely.“ –Delia, darling if you must



The runway was somewhere that Delia hadn’t seen in quite a while.  She had been focusing mostly on wrestling as of late, perfecting her move set, and proving all of the haters wrong.  The latter was a full time job in and of itself, so it leaves one to wonder how she improved her wrestling skills at all, let alone becoming the Bombshell Champion!  Today, she had double booked herself, and it was definitely going to be difficult, but if anyone was capable of multi tasking, it was SCW’s first Haute Couture Model.  Delia is nowhere to be seen as cameras flash wildly in front of the SCW Camera Crew that is present.  The head photographer, a man with frosted blonde tips, spiked up and to the left slightly, black horn rimmed glasses, thin, and short walks to the head of the runway and taps his foot impatiently as he looks down at his Swiss watch on his wrist and scoffs loudly.

Hans:  What is with these models, ja?  My time is just as valuable if not even moreso…

A brunette woman walks up to Hans, wearing a pink sweater and a black dress, sliding her glasses up her nose before nervously trying to think of how to properly get Hans’ attention.  She lets out a simple “ummm…” as she tries to think out loud, but this only draws Hans’ attention as he narrows his eyes through his glasses.  He stares daggers at the young woman.

Hans:  WHAT?!  Out with it, frauline…

Woman:  My name is Bernice. I’ve been your assistant for *silently counts to self…* six years?  Maybe closer to seven, but we’ll say six for simplicities sake, and…

Hans:  Is there a point to this, or do you just like to hear yourself talk?

Bernice blushes as she looks down at the floor, which causes Hans to growl at her.  She tries to look up at Hans again, but it is to no avail as her gaze goes back down to the ground as she runs her foot across the floor, back and forth.

Bernice:  Ms. Darling has run into a problem with her scheduling, and…

Hans:  WHAT?!?!?!

Hans is angry beyond belief as he throws his camera down against the ground, stomping it in a fit of rage as he kicks the pieces all around in every which direction.  Bernice jumps back just in time to avoid a lens to the face.  He straightens up, though anger is still etched over his face.  He raises his hand into the air and snaps his fingers together three times until someone places a new camera in his hands.  Bernice clears her throat and speaks once again.

Bernice: … and she’s just finished her make up, and is waiting for her cue from you.

Hans:  Delia, darling… because I MUST!  Please grace us with your FUCKING presence!

Bernice:  Her contract specifies that her cue is “Let’s get fierce!” and…

Just then, Delia bursts through the curtains, throwing them to the side as she walks out in a long blonde wig that is supposed to be blowing in the wind, however there is no fan.  She is covered up by a small dress that appears to be made of pages from the Burn Book.  Holding it all together is a large Burn Book logo that strategically covers up the front of her as the pictures trail down her back and backside.  Her shoes are black and white ransom letter printed Mean Girls heels.  She is wearing an almost cheesy smile that quickly fades as she looks around, her face quickly turning sour.

Delia:  Z’is… is… NOT what I was expecting!  Who is in charge, because z’ey will never work in z’is town EVER AGAIN!

Delia growls as she kicks a few pieces of the broken camera from the runway.  She points down to it and then she lets out a low tone shriek of aggravation before throwing her hands up in the air in a faux sense of surrender.

Delia:  Z’is is why I would ras’er punch some fugly, Jealous Janis in z’e face instead of working a photo shoot!  Photographer’s z’ese days are sooooo unprofessional!

Delia rests her mean glare right on Hans, only she is locked in a stalemate, seeming to have met her match.  The two of them remain locked on for what seems like at least two minutes, and neither one seems to want to budge as they take a few steps closer to one another.  Delia narrows her eyes as she looks down her nose at the smaller man, given her slight advantage due to her six inch heels putting her just a little over six feet.  He stands on the tips of his toes as he narrows his eyes too, balling his fists up angrily at his side before the two of them break into a mutual laugh and embrace.

Delia:  Oh, Hans, you silly bitch… I should have known z’is was your doing.  You always did have a flare for z’e dramatics.

Hans:  Are you calling me a drama queen?  You’re one to talk, hun-TY!

Delia:  Queen is right, darling.  We’ll just leave it at z’at.  And who do you s’ink I learned it from.

Both of them snap their fingers together before laughing once more.  Delia flips her long flowing hair over her shoulders, one side at a time before rolling her eyes, having wasted a good reveal on something like this.  She walks back over to the curtains and holds them open as she steps part way through, looking to her left with an almost snooty expression on her face.

Delia:  Z’is would be where you turn on z’e fans, imbecile.

Delia looks forward and locks eyes with Hans as a smirk comes over both of their faces.  Hans raises the camera and snaps an unflattering photo of Delia before sticking his tongue out at her.

Hans:  We’ve got our cover photo…

Delia:  At least I can look imperfect and still hold a cover, bitch…

Delia gives a slow twirl, letting the pictures fan out, showing off her bare skin underneath as they fan out.  Her hair fans out as well, as the shutter snaps another picture.  Delia wraps the sparkling pink curtain around her face slightly, hiding one eye as another photo is taken.  She finally acknowledges the SCW camera for the first time with a quick glance to her right.

Delia:  Hello SCW fans and admirers…  I seem to have overbooked myself once again, but fear not… I have made time for you to hear me speak.

Delia pauses again as she lets the curtain slowly slide down her body, another photo being taken.  She begins walking forward on the runway, flipping her hair out as the wind causes it to slowly fall.  Not looking to the camera she still addresses it.

Delia:  In just a few short days, we get to see yet anos’er Jealous Janis who has declared war on z’e Mean Girls get her shot at me.  Yes, Roxi, I am talking about you.  You see, I am going to acknowledge your words, only because I’m tired of talking about how basic, ugly, and untalented you are compared to me.

Delia winks as a bit of fog blows past her, serving us 80’s “Cherry Pie” realness for a split second as her face smolders behind the light screen of fog.  We freeze frame on it for just a second to show the perfect picture before coming back to real time.  Delia continues her slow walk down the runway before she continues.

Delia:  Honestly, I am bored of you altoges’er.  In z’e last two mons’ I’ve faced you twice.  I faced you at Into the Void III, where I unveiled my Villainess persona.  I proved z’at evil can defeat good, because, guess what?

Delia pauses as she places her hands on her hips, swaying from side to side as she shakes her hair around, closing her eyes as she leans forward.  She lets her hair hang down before flipping it up into the air.  The camera flashes once more as Delia raises a hand up in the air toward the SCW camera.  Once we return to real time, Delia takes another second or two in order to address the camera directly.

Delia:  I defeated you.  Call it a cheap victory all you want.  Claim z’at Angelica is z’e only reason I beat you.  Claim z’at I got lucky.  Call it whatever you wish, because z’e only s’ing z’at matters is z’at I hold a victory over you.  No one saw you cover me for z’e One, Two, S’ree, and do you know why?

Delia lets an arrogant smirk sneak past her look of demur, but she quickly reels it back in as she places her fingers to her lips, sliding them slowly down her face before caressing her chin.  She glances back over toward Hans as the camera snaps another picture.  We freeze on it, letting it pan out slightly before coming back to real time.

Delia:  Because it never happened.  Any time z’at we have faced off, one on one, six woman tag… I defeated you, or your team mate.  You have not been able to defeat me.  I’ve proved it twice recently.  I must admit, z’at it feels just like a bad Bill Murray film.  I’m stuck in a loop.  You would s’ink z/at wi’s all of z’e haters z’at Mean Girls have, z’ey could s’ink of someone different for me to face, yet z’ey s’row you at me.

Delia shrugs her shoulders before she turns completely to face Hans.  She raises a hand up, pointing at him as she flips her hair back, walking forward with her other hand on her hip.  She bites at her bottom lip as we snap another photo.

Delia:  Maybe z’ey wanted me to get an easy first defense?  Obviously I’m going to win yet again, because you have a history of being unable to get z’e job done.  You couldn’t beat me at Into Z’e Void S’ree.  You couldn’t beat me on Climax Control last mons’.  What makes z’em s’ink z’at you can beat me z’is week?  Z’ey don’t have fai’s in you, darling.  Z’ey were probably having a good laugh in z’e office when z’ey booked it.  Almost as hearty of a chuckle as I had when you declared war on us…

Delia lets out a sort chuckle, even though she obviously wants to laugh even harder.  However, she can’t break her pose that much, so we are left to take what we can get.  Delia walks down to the end of the runway where they have set up a set of ring ropes, stretched out around a white chair, and attached to two turnbuckles off to the side.  Delia walks over to the chair and collapses, letting her legs fly up into the air, where we snap another picture, freezing on it.  In real time, Delia flicks her legs to the side as she rests sideways in the chair, elegantly sprawling out over the chair before reaching out with a faux look of desperation on her face.

Delia:  Just like I told Misty when she did z’is like s’ree mons’ ago… no one gives a shit, darling… Honestly, no one does, and do you know why?  Because, even z’ough you capitalized on a win over Misty when she was grieving z’e loss of her grandmos’er, which no one called cheap or lucky z’en… you haven’t done anys’ing here.  Oh, except z’at time you were wi’s z’e guy who beat you on camera, and interfered to cost Vixen z’e Bombshell Championship for like two seconds.  How could we forget about z’at?

Delia winks and chuckles as a stagehand walks over to the chair, handing Delia her Burn Book.  She opens it up in the middle and presses it to her chest as she lets her hair hang down the side of the chair.  We snap another photo and freeze on it, panning out slowly as Delia speaks, despite still freezing on the photo.

Delia:  Yet, because you have just as big of a superiority complex as I do, you hold onto z’ese accomplishments as if z’ey mean somes’ing.  Yet, z’e Bombshell Championship I’m not holding holds no weight?  Even z’ough I defeated Vixen fair and square?  Somebody is showing z’eir jealousy, but let me tell you somes’ing, Roxi, darling…

We return to real time now.  Delia turns her head ever so slightly in the chair, opening her eyes as she holds the Burn Book down at her side, letting her arm dangle from the chair.  She has the sweetest smile on her face, one that makes her appear angelic, even if only for the slightest of moments.

Delia:  Green is not your color… even if you like to s’ink so.  It does fit, because your envy of me, or any of my Mean Girls, is z’e greenest I’ve seen, except Misty’s of course…  But, it is okay.  Z’e fans are blinded by your deceit, and z’ey s’ink z’at you are coming after Mean Girls because we’re bad.  We have sins to atone for.  But, who doesn’t?  You certainly do.  Cyrus was just z’e tip of z’e iceberg, darling.  But, if I went into z’at, no one would believe me, so what is z’e point?  You know exactly what I’m talking about, and z’at is good enough for me.

Delia slowly raises the Burn Book up above her, letting it hover as she reads over the pages carefully.  We snap another photo as Delia slowly turns the book to show off Roxi Johnson’s recent entry.  Delia flashes it, and the camera snaps another picture.  Delia holds her hand innocently over her mouth as she puckers her lips together.  A third picture is snapped as Delia slowly brings herself up to sit upright in the chair.

Delia:  By z’e way, you are welcome for my making you famous by even talking about you so in deps’… You are not wors’ it, but why not take a moment to remind people of z’e obvious trus’ of s’ings.  You know, z’e s’ings z’at z’ey know are true, but for some reason, z’ey pretend are not.  Or z’ey conveniently *air quotes* forget about z’em to focus on my flawless looks.  I mean, I can’t help z’at I am so pretty and rich and popular.  You know, evers’ing z’at you are not? Sorry bout it…

Delia shrugs her shoulders as she flips the page.  We freeze for just a second to catch the image of Vixen on the next page.  The page next to it should be blank, but we see an image that is certainly no surprise.  Traci Patterson has been glued in already, and in pink lettering next to her picture can be seen, though we can’t make it out.  That’s okay, because Delia is… such a nice person, and she reads it to us.

Delia:  â€œTraci Patterson… z’e lucky new girl who clearly gave Erik Staggs a ‘BJ’ during her contract signing last week or whatever.  She blew her way to a Bombshell Championship title shot against Delia Darling.”  Ugh, so true!  I mean, who else gets to come right in and get a shot at any championship like z’is?  I know I didn’t!  I was a runner up in z’e Blast From z’e Past II tournament, I am undefeated to z’is very day, and I’ve defeated almost every single woman on z’e roster, and I only JUST got a shot less z’an s’ree weeks ago!  Traci must have a very persuasive mous’…

Delia turns the book around, waving it at the camera as it snaps a few photos that we freeze on individually for a split second.  Delia tosses the book behind her, and we freeze on it as it flies through the air, Delia looking over her shoulder at it before we return to real time.

Delia:  I mean, seriously?  Z’is whole s’ing stinks of Christian Underwood’s own personal brand on nonsensical logic.  I mean, he pushed some new guy wi’s really bad hair to a title shot because z’e kid flashed his ass cheeks to him.  I would swear Christian was behind z’is, but if a s’ree dollar bill is queer, z’en Christian is a buck fifty note… Sorry bout it…

Delia shrugs her shoulders as she stands up from the seat.  She turns around and places her foot up on the turnbuckle that is doubling as the arm of the chair.  She runs her fingers up her leg as she lets her hair hang over her face just enough to add an air of mystery to the photo that is snapped next.

Delia:  It could have been Mark Ward, but he is a good businessman.  He wouldn’t want to piss off his top earner, would he?  I mean, he’s got people like Sean Jackson who bring in money, but why cut his earnings in half?  Seriously, half!  And merch sales?  Forget about it…  No, Mark wouldn’t sign such a match.  I bet he even objected to letting Trish join z’is match…

Hans  I thought you said her name was Traci…

Delia:  Ugh, don’t remind me.  Trish sounds so much prettier.  It makes people s’ink of Trish Newborn.  You know, someone who has held gold here and elsewhere.  Someone who is pretty.  Not some rookie.  I mean, it is an improvement, no?

Delia finally flips her hair out of her face and over her right shoulder.  She extends her hand once more, getting another great photo opportunity.  However, her intent isn’t to get a good picture.  She growls as someone quickly brings her the Bombshell Championship belt.  She sighs as she places it over her shoulder, getting the picture she was wanting to begin with.

Delia:  I mean… I didn’t bust my ass to let some newcomer like Trudy come along and take my belt from me.  I guess z’ey want me to give her z’e warm welcome z’at she deserves by beating her.  If I didn’t care about looking like a serious competitor, I would pick her off right away and pin her to retain my belt, but no… Roxi has at least held gold here before, and…

Just then, a voice comes from behind the camera, one that is feminine, and a bit fiery at Delia’s comment.

Mercedes:  Traci was my tag team partner, and we held the Bombshell Tag Team Championships twice.

Delia looks confused as she taps her chin.  Hans snaps another photo as Delia rolls her eyes in annoyance.  She waves him off before holding a finger up to stop him from taking pictures.  Delia goes back to looking completely confused again, trying to think it over.

Delia:  What?  No, z’at can’t be right.  I mean, your tag partner was… obviously irrelevant because I can’t remember z’em, but it wasn’t Tammy.

Mercedes:  No, it wasn’t Tammy, because it was Trudy, er Trish, er… Traci Patterson.

Delia:  Whatever.  We’re not talking about Traci.  We’re talking about Tammy Peterson.  Like what kind of a name is z’at anyways?

Delia stares past the cameras to Mercedes who comes walking into the shot.  She looks around at the cameras as if she is trying to pardon herself for the interruption.  She has the Burn Book in her hand and she opens it up to the page with Traci Patterson’s picture, holding it up to Delia.

Delia:  Ugh, why is your former tag team partner in our book?  I mean, she deserves to be, but I don’t get it…

Mercedes:  Because you are facing her this week, along with Roxi Johnson.

Delia:  What?

Delia scratches the side of her head as Hans clears his throat in annoyance.  Delia raises her middle finger to him, leaving it extended toward him as she looks back at Mercedes with confusion once again.

Mercedes:  You’ve been hanging around Liz Smalls too long… Traci Patterson has held gold twice in SCW, with me.  She’s been around longer than you have been.

Delia:  Seriously?

Mercedes:  Seriously, Deelz.  I mean, I clearly carried her to success, but still, facts are facts.

Delia blinks as her mouth hangs open for a second.  She is clearly still confused, but she rolls her eyes and gently takes the Burn Book from Mercedes’ hand and sets it down on the chair in front of her.

Delia:  Whatever… She’s still no challenge to me.  Z’e only reason I haven’t achieved more z’an she has is because people couldn’t deny our greatness any longer.  Now z’at people see how good we really are, her achievements won’t mean anys’ing.  She still doesn’t stand a chance against someone of my caliber.  At least she is kind of pretty, and she could do somesin’g wi’s her talents if she applied herself.

Mercedes:  If you say so.  Are you sure she doesn’t just appear to look pretty because the only method of comparison that you have is Roxi Johnson?

Delia goes to object, but then she shrugs her shoulders, nodding her head as the two share a laugh.  She finally lowers her middle finger and Hans snaps a very unflattering picture of her before sticking his own middle finger out in front of the camera, giving a blurry view of it extended toward Delia.

Hans:  Gossip Girls… can’t we get back to the photo shoot?  I’ve got a date in half an hour.

Delia:  Don’t worry, darling… I hear your right hand is a very patient man…

Delia pushes the middle finger out of her face as she props the belt up just a little higher on her shoulder.  She crosses it over her chest, looking down to it with a hint of pride on her face as we snap another picture.

Delia:  Anyway, Traci Patterson… Apparently you’ve been around Sin City Wrestling for a while now.  Such a shame z’at someone who researched z’is company before joining it, didn’t know your name.  Not even a close call to being a champion before leeching off of Mercedes and her talents.  Why does z’at sound so familiar?  Oh yeah, people are claiming z’at my sisters and I are doing just z’at.  Yet, z’e fans cheer for you, no?  Don’t z’ey?  I mean, I honestly don’t know.  Let’s assume z’ey do, because it would go along wi’s z’e s’eme of z’e fans ignoring obvious facts in favor of people like yourself.

Delia flips her hair over to the other side, letting it drape over the belt slightly, just leaving the light to shine brightly off of the faceplate of the belt.  Delia looks almost wantonly down at the belt, and then up at the camera as we freeze frame once more, panning out before returning to real time.

Delia:  Z’e fans are hypocrites, and z’at is exactly why I do not pander to z’em like you do, Traci.  Just like Roxi, your dreams of becoming Bombshell Champion will fall short on Sunday.  Just like Roxi, you will be defeated by moi.  Just like Roxi, z’e fans will cheer your name, all z’e way to z’e end where I pin one of you.  And just like Roxi, you will get to watch me celebrate in z’e ring after our match, and you will get to watch me walk away wi’s my belt held high above my head.  Sorry bout it…

Delia shrugs her shoulders as she slowly pulls the belt from her shoulder.  She turns to face the camera as she holds the belt above her head.  Behind her, lights flare up in the shape of her name, three times.  This is to signify the fans cheering her name, but as most know, these lights are the closest thing to cheers that Delia will ever have.  We flash one last photo of Delia standing proudly with the belt, freezing on it for about five seconds before it slowly starts to go black.
[*Fade*]

11
Character Building Roleplays / Whack-A-Mole
« on: September 21, 2014, 08:50:53 AM »
 
”Sometimes, it is the imperfections that make us unique.  But, God gave us make up to cover those up. I am perfection and that makes me unique all on my own.” –Delia, darling if you must


Breath in… breath out.

Sigh.

For someone who hasn’t had a stitch since she fell off of her bicycle at the age of five, Delia seems to handle the pain rather well.  She just takes in soft breaths as Angelica places a hand in Delia’s.  She leans down and whispers to her.

Angelica:  If you need to squeeze, it’s okay.  We’re here for you, sweetheart.

Despite their differences lately, Angelica shows her hidden motherly nature.  Delia opens her eyes slowly as the doctor stitches away slowly at her forehead.  From behind his hands, Delia gives Angelica a sweet gaze.  Angelica brushes one of her faux blonde locks away from her forehead as Delia closes her eyes once more.  Liz glares at Angelica, but she doesn’t have the strength to separate herself from Holly’s embrace to comfort Delia herself.  This role was usually reversed, and there is a good chance that Liz sees her figure of stability in a vulnerable state as she rests her head against Holly’s ample fake bosom.  Tessa is tapping away at her phone, a look of rage spread across her face.

Tessa:  I can’t believe that twat got to us that way.  Doesn’t she know that I have a medical condition, and being trapped in a room like that could have put me in the hospital again?  Like oh em gee…

Veronica:  Of course she didn’t think, because she’s so blinded by her obvious jealousy of us that she didn’t see past her own twisted plan to ruin our night.

Angelica:  She didn’t ruin our night, okay?  Who has all of the Bombshell Championship gold?  Is it those busted, ratchet Jealous Janis girls?  Is it Amy, Jessie, Vixen, or the rest of the Whogivesafuck Clan?  No, so don’t you dare say she ruined our night.

Angelica turns around to glare at Tessa, Liz, and Veronica.  She scoffs as Delia pats the back of Angelica’s hand, slowly calming her down.  Angelica narrows her eyes at everyone before Delia speaks out in an almost weakened tone.

Delia:  It is fine, darling.  Z’ey have every right to be mad.  She made a statement to all of us, not just me.  But she did not act alone.  She told me that our mole promised to keep you girls in our room while she locked the door and *air quotes* ended me…

There is a resounding gasp heard throughout the room, followed by short murmurs.  Angelica quickly shakes her head, as her face turns a pale shade of white.  Holly snaps her fingers as a resounding “Oh hellz no!” escapes her lips.  Tessa flips her hair over her shoulders as she begins speaking up as well.  Liz stomps her foot, but her words seem drown out by the shouting of the others.  Tessa speaks up louder so that she comes out above the rest of the Mean Girls.

Tessa:  Kinda funny how someone leaves the room, innit?  I mean, maybe she couldn’t handle seeing the results of her dirty deeds. I told ye not to let her sit with us…

Angelica:  Oh hell no… are you saying that Mercy is the mole?  That’s like so fricken basic and ratchet of you, Tess…

Tessa:  Since when is looking out for me sisters “basic and ratchet”?

Holly:  Hun-ty… you was like the first one with her nose up Delia’s ass when she wanted Mercy to join us.  Just cause she’s the new girl don’t mean you get to write her off like that.  Trust…

Veronica quietly lets her voice squeak out a passive aggressive objection to Holly’s statement.  She does it in a manner that leads most to believe that she is politely trying to keep her opinion to herself, but anyone who knows the First Class Model can figure out that it is only a ploy.

Veronica:  I didn’t vote one way or the other, so honestly, I was only outvoted.  She is the new girl, and that is exactly why it could be her.  I mean, this mole business didn’t start until she came around.

Liz:  I know we just won tag titles together, but if you talk about MY sister that way, I swear I will *think about* slapping you…  This mole business didn’t start until Mercy joined, and you got JEALOUS that Delia is obviously the leader of Mean Girls now.

Veronica:  Oh hunty…

Delia:  ENOUGH!  If I didn’t already have a fucking headache, you ladies would surely have given me one.  I’m having surgery right now.  Could we discuss z’is at a later time?

Angelica turns to face the other girls again, quickly sliding her fingers across her throat in a way of telling them to cut it out.  She shakes her head and rolls her eyes as she turns back to Delia.  She purses her lips like a floodgate, but there is a tiny leak that comes in a backhanded, under her breath, sort of way.

Angelica:  Plus, it’s totally obvs that Holly went soft on us.  Girl thinks everyone is a poor misguided soul who needs help.  Like just leave if you don’t realize you’re better than everyone else… Gawd…

Holly is polite enough to allow Angelica to finish her thoughts, as her mouth gapes open.  She lets go of Liz and places her hands on her hips as she bobs her head from side to side with each passing syllable.  She allows the silence to linger for a second after Angelica finishes reading her, before breaking the silence with a scoff.

Holly:  Ohhhh shit just got real up in here… So…Tessa is Tessa.  That’s why everyone thinks she’s the mole, because she’s your self proclaimed lap dog.  Real cute.  I’m too nice to be a Mean Girl, so it should be me, right?  Liz wants to be the leader so bad, she’s willing to throw all us bitches under the bus, right?  Mercy is new, so she’s the mole, am I getting this correct ladies? you wanna talk about obvious-nessssss?  Okay, let’s break this down so even Jamie Fuckin’ Staggs could understand…  Miss Ronnie T and Angie Ang, the girls who started this movement, with my help no less… You ladies call yourself the founders of Mean Girls.  You two wallow in the under card for like six months…

Angelica:  Excuse yourself, bitch…

Holly:  That’s really fucking rude to interrupt me, but since I’m more ladylike than you, and I have a penis, I’m going to forgive you and continue on… You two job out to people like Azz n Class and Trish Newborn for a living, until Ronnie disappears to go to Fat Camp or whatever… She lets you down, Angie, and that big ass redhead breaks your knee cap.  So, you decide to manage some girl and try to collect royalties on OUR hard work…

Veronica:  This is a lot more insulting that…

Holly turns on her heels and takes a deep breath as she holds a finger up at Veronica.  She holds the breath and the pose for a second before tilting her head to the side, making an exaggerated expression of surprise.

Holly:  And you excused too, bitch… So Angie finds Lil Miss Thang over there, and decides to cash in on her fame.  Good call, honestly.  I ain’t gonna lie, I enjoyed some of this too.  BUT, then Ronnie T, baby girl… you saw this cash cow, and you returned to Mean Girls.  This Nice Girl got dirty in the ring, showing how I do… Liz comes along, and we blow up.  We have to hire Tessa for her friendly services.  Mercedes comes around, and Mean Girls collects the Bombshell gold, all four belts.  So, if you wanna get nasty and talk about who is a fucking mole, why don’t the both of you look a little closer at them compact mirrors, kay?

Angelica:  So, Delia is the only one who doesn’t get blamed here?

Holly:  She could be the mole, because she’s Delia FUCKING Darling!

Holly does her best Delia impression, shouting in a raspy, shrill tone.  This causes Liz to clap her hands before snapping her fingers and looking right at the two of them, shouting out a firm “YASSSS!” as she pats Holly on the back.  Veronica slowly removes two strands of hair from her face as she looks over at Angelica, licking the inside of her cheek as she tries to stifle an angry laugh.  Before she can say anything, Holly licks at her bottom lip, almost seeming regretful of the hurtful things that she’d just said.

Holly:  Sorry bout it.

While the term is meant to add insult to the injury of any dig, this time, there is a slight measure of sincerity to it.  Holly looks away from Veronica as Liz wraps an arm around Holly’s waist, pulling her in closely to her.

Liz:  You just dropped a truth bomb on these girls.  Just because, like… you know that you’re not the mole, that doesn’t mean that you’re not the mole, right?

Tessa:  Did ye forget to take yer vitamins today, Liz?  That made no sense at all…

Liz:  Well, you’re obvs the mole because you’re the most jealous one of the group.  You prrrrobably wear a #JealousJanis tank top under your shirts at all times.

Liz waves her head from side to side as she rubs it in.  Tessa grits her teeth as she contemplates getting into a battle of wits.  Normally this would be her weak point, but with Liz, she could feel like Einstein.  However, she looks over to Delia, and respecting her wishes, she purses her lips and turns toward the door.

Tessa:  Instead of talking about people behind their backs, I’m gonna go check on Mercedes.

Liz:  Oh my gawd, you were the one who accused her in the first place.  And people call me dumb?  THAT was the dumbest thing said today…

Delia:  I’m the mole, you’re the mole… right now, I don’t give an airborne FUCK!  SHUT… UP!  Ugh, I swear if z’at bitch makes me scar up, I’m suing her for her whole life savings, even if it is only like a hundred dollars…

Angelica nods her head as Delia speaks.  Tessa rolls her eyes and then steps out of the room as Liz and Holly walk on the other side of Delia, almost as if she were some sort of fault line between two plates of Earth that are inevitably going to rub together and cause mass destruction within the movement.  The doctor finally finishes up the stitching, and he places a bandage carefully over Delia’s forehead.  He goes to speak, but Delia waves him off as she sits up slowly.

Delia:  I’m willing to bet z’at z’ere is no mole at all.  I bet one of our phones is bugged.  Would it not be z’e perfect Jealous Janis crime, watching us destroy ourselves?  I mean, we’re z’e only ones who can, obviously…  For now, I say z’at we step to z’e side, and ignore z’e *air quotes* mole…  It is z’e smartest s’ing to do, no?

Before anyone can respond, the door flies open, and an angry Chris Darling enters the room as if he were on a mission.  He stomps up next to the bed and places his arms on his hips as he sinks a bit, glaring at the ladies surrounding Delia.

Chris:  Why was I not notified of z’is situation sooner?  I had to watch my daughter get maimed on z’e internet?  Z’at woman is certifiable, and my lawyer will be speaking wi’s Mr. Staggs, Mrs. Underwood, and Mr. Ward promptly…

Delia shakes her head from side to side as a man walks into the room, handing her a line up for the next edition of Climax Control.  Though her name is not on it, she simply scoffs and rolls her eyes as we pan out slowly.
[*Fade*]

12
Climax Control Archives / Courage
« on: August 29, 2014, 10:04:00 PM »
 
Who am I?  This is a question I have asked myself a lot lately.  I can only rely on myself for an honest answer.  If I ask any of the Mean Girls, I will be told that I am Delia Darling, some fearless, cold, calculated, pretty, fabulous Bombshell.  In other words, I would be told that I am nearly perfect.  While I do agree, I am amazing. It is why I chose our song, because each of us Mean Girls are nearly perfect.  Nearly is the key word.  I mean, we are better than the rest of the Bombshells, but I openly admit that we are not perfect.  I need to know what makes me unique, and different.

I could ask any of the Jealous Janis girls if I wanted to hear the things that are not based solely on flattery.  However, for the same reason why I won’t ask the other Mean Girls who I am, I can’t rely on the opinions of Jealous Janis girls either. They will tell you that I am some brainless, cookie cutter Barbie doll of a woman who only remains relevant because I’m an attention whore.  They will say that I am a deceitful, heartless bitch who couldn’t win a match on her own.  They ignore the fact that I have a better grasp on the English language than they do. They shout the same insults at me and then claim that I am the unoriginal one.  As you can see, their opinions are hardly reputable.

So, who can I ask if I cannot find the answer to this question all on my own?  Why, I would have to ask the only person whose opinion actually matters in this situation.  Who knows me better than anyone else?  Who knows what is going on inside of my head? Who knows what I have been through, and the struggles that I have faced?  Who is the only person that has been with me throughout my entire life?  Why, me of course!  I adore my Mean Girls sisters, and it doesn’t pain me one iota to ignore the Jealous Janis’s, but in the end, it is only my opinion that matters. If I wanted to, I could drop my sisters.  Or, they could very well do the same to me.  I have never been one to travel in a pack anyway, but I don’t intend to drop them. It just leaves me to my point, which is, I am the only one who looks out for me.  In the end, I am the only one who can be responsible for me.

To answer my question, “Who am I?” I’m Delia FUCKING Darling!  Kiss kiss!

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”Sometimes one needs to be reminded of where they have come from in order to proceed in life.  Your past is a foundation for the future that you are building upon.” –Delia, darling if you must…


The screen is completely black at first.  The only thing we can hear is laughter that seems to be coming from another room.  The laughter approaches, getting louder before a girlish squeal is heard.  There is a loud thud followed by more laughter as keys are heard jingling.  The loud voice of Liz Smalls can be heard uttering an ecstatic “OHHHH my GOD!” before the sound of a key entering the key hole is heard.  There is more fumbling until the door flings open and the silhouette of Delia, Liz, and Holly can be seen.  Clearly, two of the three ladies are intoxicated by their posture… and unless you are blind, the third one might also have found their way into the liquor cabinet *wink wink* unbeknownst to the adults at the birthday Party for Liz Smalls.  There is some whispering, followed by a low tone squeal that follows it.

Holly:  Dayum girl, where the light… light switch?  I know I ain’t that drunk.

Liz:  Oh em gee, Holly, do I havetodo… everythhhiiiiiiing?

Delia:  No… no!  No, no, no it’s over z’ere to z’e…

There is an extra long pause as Delia crosses her arms, pointing in both directions as she giggles, trying to determine the proper direction.  Liz slaps her shoulder as she nearly runs out of breath laughing.  Holly places her hand on her hip as she points to her right.  Delia shakes her head, and Holly points in the opposite direction.  Delia shakes her head again and Holly groans in her man voice.

Holly:  For a recovering alcoholic, you sure did go overboard tonight bitch… I told you we shoulda asked Veronica to come with us…

Liz:  NO!  No, it’s myyyyyy birthday and IIIIIIIII don’t want the others around me right now.  Except Mercedes, but she was so busy, soooooo….

Finally, Holly finds the switch on the wall.  She flips it on to reveal the Mean Girls Clubhouse in California.  There is salmon pink as far as the eye can see.  From the pink plaid print on the walls, to the pink leather couches, curtains, and pink leopard printed furry throw pillows throughout.  It would be a 13 year old girl’s dream, but it hardly looks like something that grown women would enjoy.  Despite the coloring, the spacious penthouse suite features a hot tub in the corner, and a large patio area that, despite having an in ground pool that is very sizeable, still has plenty of room for those who are less inclined to swim.  Delia pulls off her blonde wig and tosses it on the table inside of the door.  She does the same with her stocking cap and she flings her brunette chair around to free it up.  She pulls a brush from her purse and begins brushing her hair out.  Liz raises an eyebrow at the mess on Delia’s head.  Holly is still in full drag, though she reaches under her skirt and begins fumbling around to “untuck”.  Delia smacks his arm and then motions to the ever impressionable Liz nearby.  Holly rolls her eyes as she looks over to Liz.

Holly:  This girl is [*EDITED OUT TO PROTECT INVESTED PARTIES*] and you gonna get on to me about removing my gaff?  Girl, please…

Liz:  Heyyyy!  I am NOT [*EDITED OUT TO PROTECT INVESTED PARTIES*] so stop being a… b word…

Liz’s voice trails off as Delia plops down on a leather chaise lounger, sprawling out as she moans from the wonderful feeling of resting on such a comfortable chair.  She kicks off her shoes one by one and continues to brush her hair out before losing interest and keeping the brush tangled in her hair.

Delia:  Ugh, why did I sit down when I have to… use the bas’room?  I can’t get up, can you help me?

Liz:  Oookay, I’ll trrrrry!

Liz walks over to Delia and tries to pull her up.  However, she tumbles over Delia, screaming as she falls.  She lands in a way that doesn’t upset her injured neck, or perhaps she is too [*EDITED*] to care.  She and Delia both begin laughing hysterically as Delia lets out an oafish belch.  This only makes them laugh even harder, even as Liz tries to protest.

Liz: Ewwwwwwwwwwwww-uhhhhh!!!

Liz gets sick over the edge of the couch.  Holly raises an eyebrow and her jaw drops open as she just stares at the two.  She is grossed out by their actions, but she can’t seem to look away in case Liz is actually hurt.

Holly:  Girls, you a damn mess right about now.  Where is the intercom?

Holly rolls her eyes as she walks over to a small speaker box on the wall near the door.  She keeps her eyes on both of them as she presses the red button.

Holly:  We got a wet clean up in aisle 5.  Wet clean up in aisle five…  Sorry, it’s my first job talkin’…  How do you turn this damn thing off now?

Holly presses more buttons, causing a buzzing noise to crackle over the intercom.  She mutters curse words into the box as she tries to figure things out.  A door opens off to the side and an older man walks out, staring at the three ladies, seeming to be awestruck.  He widens his eyes at Holly before finding it too obvious.  His eyes glance over to Liz and he just shakes his head before narrowing his eyes at Delia.

Holly:  Excuse me sir, but you ain’t paid to stand around and stare at drunk girls.  I need you to clean up that puke from the floor.  Oh, and ummm… show me how to turn this damn speaker off, please?

The man looks back to Holly with a look of confusion on his face.  He stares and cocks his head to the side, shaking his head for a moment before shrugging his shoulders.  Holly rolls her eyes and places both hands on her hips as she scoffs.

Holly:  Hey yo, hombre?  Yo habla Espanol?

The man scoffs in return as he narrows his eyes angrily at Holly.  In a nasally tone, he replies in a way that no one in the room understands.

Non, vous imbicile. Je parle français… (No you idiot. I speak French…)

Holly :  Um, que ?

Delia chuckles as the man speaks.  She looks over toward Holly, peeling her eyes open only for a second to mutter something under her breath to Holly before Liz rolls off of her slightly, causing her voice to raise.

Delia:  He called you an idiot, like duhhh…

Delia immediately closes her eyes, not letting it register at all.  Just then, the front door opens up and a man walks in with a mop bucket and rubber gloves on his hands.  Holly looks to th man who has just entered, and then back to the man who is standing in the doorway to… the bathroom?  Holly tilts her head sideways in confusion, pointing between the two men.

“Je suis ce .. ce ... bébé de ... (I am this.. this... infant's...)”

Delia groans hearing her native tongue as she looks over toward the bathroom.  She shakes her head, thinking that perhaps she is in a dream now.  She tries to speak, but her own displeasure gets the best of her.  Before she can speak, Liz looks up and gags at the site of this man.

Liz:  Ugh, who’s the crusty dusty?  Is he liiiike another one of your exes or something?

Holly chuckles at this, despite her confusion.  Delia closes her eyes and mutter to herself before her eyes shoot open.  She pinches herself to make sure that she isn’t still dreaming, but that is when everything becomes a harsh reality.

Delia:  No… he’s my… father…

Dad:  Christian Bambineaux et vous? (and you?)

Liz:  Oh my God, I’m too [*EDITED TO PROTECT INVESTED PARTIES*] for this!  You people and your French…

Holly blinks for a minute, her jaw opened to convey the shock that she is in.  Liz slowly gets off of Delia and she goes with Holly outside to get some fresh air.  Christian walks over to Delia and folds his arms across his chest a Delia just blinks, unsure of how to respond.

[*The following has been translated for your viewing convenience!*]

Dad:  Hello Cordelia Darling.  That is what you go by now, is it not?

Delia:  No, father… It is Delia Darling.  Shall I tell you my new middle name as well?  It starts with an “F”!

Dad:  How dare you disrespect me like this. I am your father, and you should treat me with at least a small amount of respect!

Delia rolls her eyes as she reaches into her purse and pulls out a cigarette.  She scoffs before fumbling around for her lighter.  Once she finds it and lights it, her father reaches over and snatches the cigarette from her lips and snaps it in half.  He does so in a manner that lets her know that he means business.  She goes to protest, but he immediately cuts her off.

Dad:  You are an embarrassment to the family name.  Your mother is likely embarrassed of you right now also.

Delia:  Let me guess… you heard that I became rich, and you decided that you would come and offer to “manage” my money, right?  Fuck off…

He reaches over and slaps her across the face, just hard enough to convey his point.  This stuns Delia as her eyes widen.  She seems to sober up quickly from this as tears begin to stream down her face.

Delia:  Don’t you EVER lay a FUCKING HAND on me AGAIN!!!  Do I make myself clear?

Dad:  As soon as you act like a FUCKING ADULT, then I won’t have to!  I take no pleasure in this business, and the last thing I want to do is to correct my 23 year old daughter. Do you understand me, little girl?

Delia:  Fuck you!

Dad:  You would like that, wouldn’t you?  I gave you the best a father could give to his daughter, but you decided to run off and become Paris’ own dirty little whore, no?  You spit in my face and slept with a man who was twice your age.

Delia can’t muster up actual words, so instead she roars in fury.  She picks up one of the nearby throw pillows and she chucks it at her father.  Her roar turns into a high pitched shriek as she continues to throw things at him.  His anger fades as he dodged more dangerous items that are coming in his direction.  A glass, a make up case, and a can of mace are just a few things that come at him.  Delia stumbles out of her chair, not even stopping for breath as she goes to pick up a nearby glass end table.  She lifts it above her head as her shriek finally ends.  Her nostrils are flared out as she takes hard, shallow breaths.

Delia:  Get the FUCK off of my property, you sad, sad old man. You are nothing to me since you disowned me!  I’m not your daughter, and I refuse to allow you to speak to me that way!

Delia chucks the table at her father, but he dodges it as if he weren’t in his 60’s.  He takes in a few sharp breaths before holding a hand out toward Delia, calling for a cease fire.  Delia doesn’t let up as she charges over toward him.  The two dance around the pink leather couch, Christian keeping his distance from his daughter.

Dad:  I will not apologize for speaking the truth to you, Delia.  You can hate me, but my hate for you has gone away.  I see that I have done the wrong thing by disowning my own daughter, and I see the way it has affected you.

Delia:  You would just love to take credit for how I’ve turned out, but the truth is that I have become EVERYTHING you said I couldn’t… I’m a star.  I’ve been on magazine covers, I wrestle, and I’m one of the most talked about people on Twitter.  I did it all on my own.  Nor even Guillaume can take credit for that. I did it all!

Dad:  You certainly did.  You did a lot of things that I am certain you did not learn from your mother, or me.  You didn’t earn anything. You slept with a sleazy older man to get noticed.

Delia lunges over the couch, taking a swipe at her father in anger.  She shrieks loudly as she tries to claw at him.  Her teeth are bared like a rabid animal as she pushes the couch into his gut.  He doubles over, but in a moment of valor, he sucks it up so that Delia doesn’t realize that it has hurt him.

Delia:  I did NO SUCH THING!  I LOVED him!  I was going to marry him.  He was so cultured and he showed me a new side of life that I never would have learned in law school!  And before you make another disgusting sexual innuendo, it is just weird coming from some old man like you…

Dad:  I can not forget what you’ve done, Delia, but I am not here to rub it in your face. I regret that I have disowned you, and I wish to make up for this.  That is why I came, because I want to make things right.  I want to see my sweet girl come back.

Delia scoffs, however she lightens her mood slightly.  She stops circling the couch and simply stares daggers through her father.  She catches her breath, not even noticing the man cleaning up the crushed glass now, or Holly and Liz watching on with worried yet intrigued expressions on their faces.  Delia places one hand on her hip as she looks down to her other hand, preening her nails as she forces a bitchy sort of laugh.

Delia:  But, daddy dearest.  Have you not heard?  I’m not your sweet baby girl anymore.  I’ve grown up, and I’m a Mean Girl now… Sorry bout it (AKA Désolé à ce sujet) Not really…

Dad:  No, I know that my sweet daughter is still in there somewhere.  We just need to find her.  I’m willing to stay and find her.

Delia:  No thank you.  That will not be necessary.  Sorry, not sorry.

Dad:  Oh, but that was not as much of a request as it was a statement.  I’m sure that you will not mind your father joining you for some of your business ventures while we rekindle our relationship.

Delia rolls her eyes and all but hisses at her father with her venomous tongue as she writes his comment off immediately/

Delia:  Why don’t you go back to mother, and live your dreadfully boring Beauty and the Beast fairytale.

Delia chuckles at this as she once again rolls her eyes.  These words have a much larger impact on her father as pain registers in his eyes.  Delia’s chuckle slows, but does not go away.  There is an underlying worry in her own eyes as she looks at her father. He looks up, ready to drop a bombshell on this Bombshell.

Dad:  I’m afraid your mother never showed you the last chapter where Belle divorces Beast and forces him to sell the castle in exchange for a small apartment outside of Paris?

Delia:  Ugh, I thought she died.  Okay, so this is about money after all.  It makes sense on the kind of wages you and mother brought in.  If I throw money at you, will you just go away and we can pretend that this night never happened?

The comment genuinely cuts at her father’s heart.  He nearly sheds a tear, but takes a deep breath to stifle it.  He shakes his head from side to side slowly as his hurt almost seems to melt Delia herself, but only for a split second.

Dad:  No… no, it isn’t about money at all. I only wish to spend time with my daughter. I can’t stand that small apartment any longer. I’ve quit my job, and have come over on a tourist visa.  Besides, what is it that you always say?  â€œParis is the smelliest place on the planet. Did they not get the memorandum about deodorant?”

Delia giggles as she lightens her mood slightly.  She tries not to soften up too much, viewing it as a sign of weakness.  She simply nods her head as Liz and Holly can be heard giggling from the cracked door.  Delia looks over and Liz quickly closes it.  Delia rolls her eyes and then looks to her father.

Delia:  Not that I like the idea, but I’m not quite as heartless as some would like to believe.  If you wish to stay with me, I do have my condo in Vegas. You are welcomed to stay there.

Dad:  No, no, no… I want to come along with you on the road. I want to spend quality time with you, and…

Delia:  Ugh! Fine!  You can come on the road with me, but you better not slow me down. I have a busy schedule, and I don’t need some old man causing me to miss appointments.  If you think you can keep up with me, then you are welcomed to try…

Her father clacks his hands together with a smile on his face.  He laughs to express his joy as Delia rolls her eyes once more.  She looks over to Liz and Holly who are still spying on the situation, and she waves them in.  They quickly come inside, hoping for a front row seat to the drama, but Delia smirks, causing a bit of disappointment to both ladies.  She motions for her father to have a seat as the scene goes black.
>[*Fade*]


Sometimes it is the thing that you expect the least that happens.  You have one of two choices.  You can fight it, no matter how good it might actually be for you.  You can resist the change, or you can allow it to happen.  You can accept it, and try to make the best of the situation.  That is what I have decided to do with my father coming back into my life.  He and I were close at one point, but he detested my lifestyle choices.  If he still felt that way, would he come across the Atlantic Ocean to become close with me again?  I think not, so perhaps I shouldn’t resist this so much.  What little girl doesn’t want to be close with her father?  So, here goes nothing…


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”Sometimes you have to realize who you can trust.  If you know that you can trust someone, you let them roam free. When you don’t trust someone, you must keep them at arms length without them knowing it.” –Delia, darling if you must


It is just another day in the life of Delia Darling.  She dodges a few camera happy pedestrians looking for pictures with a celebrity, or to sell to the tabloids.  She has lunch with Liz at Vince’s Bistro, taking in her favorite Asian cuisine.  She gets herself into some trouble on Twitter, all while acting as if she is above it all.  In her mind, she truly is.

We find ourselves captivated by her radiant smile as she saunters through the pristine parking lot just a few miles outside of Hollywood that has been claimed for the Mean Girls clubhouse.  The bright sunlight shimmers off of her platinum blonde curls as they bounce.  Her Gucci shades protect her eyes, but we can only assume that the doe-like pupils are sparkling with joy.  Her skin is flawless, and her gorgeous DeLIZious Lips by Liz shimmer as she approaches the building.  Her salmon pink ruffled skirt and blouse pop because of the black corset.  Her black stiletto heels click against the well kempt pavement as she pulls out an ID card.  She waves it at a doorman who nods and opens the door for Delia.

Doorman:  Good evening, Ms. Darling.  How are you?

Delia:  Ugh, who are you exactly?  Where is Reginald?  He smells a lot better z’an you do mister…

Delia lifts up her sunglasses as she squints at the name on his golden badge.  Dorian is the name that she reads as she leans away, pinching her nose.  She groans at the smell and then turns away from him.

Delia: I can tell you had bologna for lunch… how quaint…

Delia flips her hair over her shoulder as the man lets the door go, smacking her on her ample bottom as she walks inside of the building.  She scoffs and glares back at him as he covers his mouth, presumably saying “oops” along with it as he turns away.  Delia curls her fingers up, clinching her fist together before taking a deep breath and walking down the long hallway.  The walls have a very regal feel to them, accented with golden marble swirl and deep mahogany trim.  The carpeting softens the sound of her heels clicking as she stops by a mailbox, turning the left side of her lips into a smirk as she likely contemplates the usefulness of a mailbox in this day in age.  She crosses a hallway and walks over to a side elevator that has been painted salmon pink with the Burn Book style “Mean Girls” logo printed on it.  She slides her card before the door opens.  She steps inside and crosses her arms over her bag, waiting as the elevator door slowly closes in front of her.  A soft jazzy beat of muzak plays from a speaker above her head as she takes her sunglasses off, sliding them into her handbag.  She bares her teeth as she begin picking at them in the reflection in the door which has been converted into a mirror by request.  She gets a hunk of something from her teeth as the door slowly opens.  She steps out and reaches into her purse to find a set of keys before walking down a short corridor.  She opens the door and opens her mouth to speak, only for it to drop in pure horror.

Chris:  Cordy, darling, I didn’t realize you would be home so soon…

His extremely thick French accent echo as he reaches up into the kitchen cabinet to grab a glass, his pale bare bottom practically shining in the setting sun.  Delia scoffs and then places her hand in front of her eyes, leaving only her glossy pink lips in our view.

Delia:  Daddy!  Z’is is not my private residence, and I would beg you kindly to stay decent, even in my home…  Z’is is America, not Holland…

Chris:  Ah yes, I forget z’at z’is is z’e country founded by prudes who are ashamed of z’eir bodies.  I was just about to go for a swim.

Delia keeps her jaw gaped and her hand in front of her eyes as her father casually walks over to the fridge where he retrieves a bottle of mineral water, pouring it into the glass.  He takes a sip in relief as he uses the counter to hide his naked body.

Chris:  Maybe if you would leave z’e room, I could get dressed and z’is would be a lot less, as you say… awkward, no?

Delia is once again about to speak when the bathroom door opens slowly.  Delia is even more embarrassed at the fact that someone is there to see her naked father and she turns toward the bathroom to see Tessa standing there.  However, she is not put at ease as she sees Tessa adjusting a salmon pink bath robe around herself, pulling it closed to see that she is not wearing anything else underneath.  Delia blinks for a minute before she starts to turn back to question her father.  She realizes his current state and stops herself, staring only ahead.

Delia:  Tessa…?  Z’is is my fas’er, Chr…

Chris:  Chris Darling. I probably should have mentioned my name before you…

In a nasally chuckle, Chris stops himself mid thought as Delia screams.  She continues to scream as she walks over to the large patio door, throwing it open.  She continues to scream as she walks forward, tossing her handbag onto the ground as she walks right into the sizable pool, which is the only thing that cuts off her screaming.  Tessa raises an eyebrow, smirking as she looks back over to Chris with blush in her cheeks.

Tessa:  I guess she didn’t like the idear of me being her new mum…

Chris:  Cordy will be Cordy, I am afraid… I had hoped for her not to find out about our little… indiscretion.

Tessa pulls her robe together tightly to cover up her naked body as she walks over toward the door.  She opens it up to see Delia fling her wig off before throwing it randomly.  She is having an all out brawl with the water as she kicks her legs around, punching and slapping at the water angrily as she growls.  Tessa’s eyes sink as she walks over to the edge of the fool.  She raises the robe slightly before placing her feet in the water.  She watches as Delia self destructs for a few moments longer before she softly mutters.

Tessa:  I’m sorry, Deelz…  I really am. I didn’t know he was yer pa until after, if I’m honest.

Delia:  Of course, because you’re a disgusting… FUGLY SLUT!  You see a man’s penis and you think to yourself “Oh, that hasn’t been shoved in me crotch yet!  I better fix that, yeah?!?”  Like ga-ross!

Delia practically shrieks this, which is only made comical when she goes into a French rendition of a British accent.  She gives one final wave of her hand, splashing Tessa who modestly accepts the insult without any form of protest.  As the water hits her face, she gently wipes it away before responding.

Tessa:  It’s not like that, Delia.  It’s almost like ye and Guillaume.  I guess I have some fucked up daddy issues that I needed to work out.

Delia:  Seriously?  You want to blame it on *animated air quotes* DADDY issues?  Last mon’s, did you have arrogant, pill popping drunk Chicago prick issues?  And every os’er week, do you have male ring rat issues?  Oh, or pizza boy issues, barista issues, bas’room peeper issues?  Gawd, z’ey offer counseling to deal wi’s issues. You don’t need to abuse your genitals to work out issues…

Delia’s words fly at Tessa like daggers, but she simply takes them, letting them dig deep into her as she sits there, not flinching a muscle.  Once Delia finally trails off, Tessa just nods her head, sighing.  She gently sways her foot from side to side, feeling the cool water flowing between her toes as she goes.

Tessa:  I get it, Delia. I really do, but I have been working on it. I just want to be the best Mean Girl I can be.  Besides, ye don’t talk to Liz like this when she’s shagging a new guy every other day and getting engaged to them.  Bitch has got to have more jewels than all of Agrabah.

Delia:  But LIZ is successful!  She is ALREADY a star!  She is what you want to BE!  She doesn’t have to work at anys’ing because she already has it all.

Tessa:  Okay, now yer just being a twat.  I don’t have to sit here all night and listen to this when I could go boink yer dad again if I wanted to.  Ye know, for being in his sixties, he still works like a young buck…

Delia growls as she clinches her eyes shut.  Tessa stands up and pulls the robe tightly against her once more.  She turns to walk away as Delia sighs loudly for her to hear.  She doesn’t stop until Delia speaks.

Delia:  I’m sorry… Tessa.  Z’is situation has not been easy for me wi’s z’e man popping back into my life less z’an twenty four hours ago, and z’en coming in from a beautiful day out to find my assistant sleeping wi’s my fas’er.  It’s like some soap opera z’at is my life. I can’t change z’e channel, and it is so frustrating sometimes.

Tessa:  Yeah?  Is it called Young and the Heartless?  I’m stuck watching it from the other room, so I know how it feels better than ye do probably.

Delia:  I know, I know… I’m just… I’m not happy, Tessa. Z’at is why I was so upset when you wound up in z’e hospital, because I… I know z’e feeling.  If I were not a God fearing woman, I might have… you know?  People want to know why I am z’e way z’at I am.  No one knows, not even Liz.

Delia’s face twists into a look of pure sadness.  We can assume that there are tears amongst the water dripping down her face already as she wades over to the side of the pool.  She sobs into her arms as Tessa turns back around.  She too is saddened as she walks over to Delia, offering her a helping hand to get out of the pool.  She pulls Delia close into a hug.  Delia cries as her father, no wearing a pair of black sweat pants and a #MeanGirls Delia shirt, steps out onto the patio area. He watches as Tessa gently rubs the Delia’s back, and his eyes become sullen.  He sighs as Tessa gives him a nod that lets him know that she’s got this handled.  He nods back before stepping back inside of the clubhouse.

Tessa:  It’s okay, Delia. I totally understand, luv.

Delia:  Sometimes I just wish I could bring myself to sleep wi’s whoever looked attractive enough.  Z’en maybe I wouldn’t be so alone all z’e time!  I mean, does it really make you feel better to sleep wi’s every Tom Harry Dick?  Honestly, I want to know.

Tessa:  It is a stress reliever, that’s for sure, sweets.  It doesn’t fix everything, but it numbs the pain a little.  Ever since Michael, I’ve felt an emptiness, but sometimes a fling helps ye to forget about it for a little bit.  Maybe ye need a fling to help ye forget about Guillaume?  What about that Eric Paisano guy ye dated over the weekend?

Delia:  I still want to get to know him. I just don’t know… a fling is not my style.  I’ve never had a fling.

Tessa chuckles a little as she pulls away from Delia.  She gives her the most loving look she can as she brushes a few strands of wet hair that are clinging to Delia’s face.  Delia looks directly into Tessa’s emerald eyes as she sniffles.

Tessa:  Ye haven’t had one yet.  Yer still young, luv.  Who says ye can’t test out the waters a little.  Have a little fun and let loose for once.  Maybe people will stop calling ye a frigid bitch…

Delia chuckles as she looks away.  She wipes a tear from her eyes.  She shrugs her shoulders before looking to her father who is staring out from the window.  After a moment, she shakes her head from side to side quickly.

Delia:  Z’at is not me.  Maybe I should stop criticizing you for it, but z’e right one will come along soon enough.  He will be wor’s z’e wait, I am sure of it.

Tessa:  Whatever puts a smile on yer pretty little face, Deelz…  Now come on.  Let’s go out and do something as sisters.

Delia smiles, thinking it over for a second as if such a thing were completely absurd.  She blinks for a moment and then nods her head with a smile.  She wipes a stream of water from her face before sniffling again.

Delia:  Well, obviously I can’t go out looking like z’is.  And you might want to wear a little more z’an z’at, no?  Oh em gee, I will even tell people that we hung out and not be embarrassed. You’re such a good sister to me…

Delia gives Tessa a tight hug, giving an uncharacteristic smile as she walks away.  Tessa raises an eyebrow and laughs as she gently pats Delia’s back.  Delia skips inside of the house.  As she passes her father, she plants a sweet kiss on his cheek before moving along.  Tessa waves to her in a friendly way before walking toward the door.  She gives Delia’s father a wanton look as she reaches her hand up his shirt, fondling his chest as she leans in close to whisper.

Tessa:  We’re going out, Chris, but I promise that I won’t let her get into any trouble.  But, she’s going to be a while, so we have time for round five, if ye got it in ye…

Tessa giggles as she opens her robe a few extra inches to entice him.  His eyes widen as he nods, leaning in for a kiss.  However, Tessa shakes her head and then sways her hips as she walks back inside of the clubhouse.  Chris flings his shirt off of himself quickly as he doesn’t give her a chance to get far before disappearing inside as well.
>[*Fade*]


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”The best way to forget your misery is to have a good laugh.  What better way to laugh than at the misery or humiliation of someone else?  It is time to start allowing the Jealous Janis girls to get a taste of their own medicine.  Sorry bout it…” –Delia, darling if you must



Mesa, Arizona is set to host Climax Control 93, which is the last Climax Control before Violent Conduct II.  The suburb just twenty miles east of Phoenix was not where many of the Sin City Wrestling roster had decided to spend the days leading up to the show.  Many wanted to spend it in the better known city nearby.  The Mean Girls were no exception to this.  In fact, they seemed to be the pioneers of this idea, thought this might be subjective information.  The sun is blazing on this afternoon, and the dry heat is expected to reach well into the triple digits.  A certain Mean Girl who shall not be named, whined and complained about her mother warning her of heat stroke, and has decided not to attend this unorthodox Mean Girls outing.  As a matter of fact, two other Mean Girls, Holly and Veronica, had decided not to be involved in this fun excursion either.

Today’s venture takes place outside of Gold’s Gym, where some of SCW’s elite were training, hoping to make their best impressions leading up to Violent Conduct II.  Many familiar faces are seen coming and going, but today we spot Delia Darling and Angelica posted up near the doors.  As people come and go, the two of them hand them a rolled up sheet of paper, offering a friendly smile.  Both are dressed according to the weather, despite being in the shade.  They are wearing matching pink shorts, tight tank tops, and pink open toed shoes to show off their beautiful Nails By Liz painted nails, in Mean Girls Pink.  They offer a friendly “Thank you” to anyone who doesn’t turn down the offering.  There are uncharacteristically sweet smiles on their faces as they continue handing them out at the busy establishment.  After a few moments, there is a slight break in people coming and going, and Angelica wipes a bit of sweat from her forehead.    Delia hands out one last paper before sighing and turning toward Angelica.

Angelica:  It is so unfair that we couldn’t get Liz to do this with us. Like, why do we have to do this on our own?

Delia:  It’s not like Veronica was quick to help us eis’er.  And look at Tessa out in the sun.  You know z’e Irish are too fair to handle z’e sun for long periods of time.

Angelica:  Right. It is worth it though, like totally worth it.  I can’t wait to see the look on her face when…

Delia grins and gently jabs Angelica in the ribs to quiet her down as someone else walks out of the gym.  It is a tall, slender blonde man with deep blue eyes.  Delia could have gotten lost in them had she not been so preoccupied with the papers.

Delia:  S’ank you, darling.  Be sure to have a careful look at z’e paper at your earliest convenience.

Man:  Will do. Thanks beautiful.

Delia laughs bashfully as the man pulls the rubber band off of the paper.  He walks away as he begins unrolling the paper, causing a wicked grin to come over Delia’s face.  Angelica silently mocks Delia’s attempt at flirting by waving her head around with a typical Valley Girl movement.

Angelica:  Like be sure to look at the paper at your earliest convenience…

Delia:  Oh shut it, Angie!  It’s better z’an saying “Read it and I’ll get down on my knees and blow you…”

Delia chuckles at her quip as she turns away.  She doesn’t see Angelica’s expression sour as she places a hand on her hip.  She is ready to come back to this, but Delia quickly cuts her off.

Delia:  Z’is is going to be so funny, darling. I can’t wait to see her face when…

Delia hears the door open again and she quickly stops herself in mid sentence.  She smiles sweetly, but it quickly fades as she slowly turns to the door just in time to see Lexi Styles walking out with her gym bag hung over her right shoulder.  Lexi’s usually sweet smile fades as she locks eyes with Angelica, and then Delia right after.  They stare at each other for a moment as Delia’s sweet smiles turns into a rather mean-spirited smirk.  She sighs as she tries to hold back from laughing.

Delia:  Oh, funny finding you here.  Won’t you Canadian’s melt when z’e temperature is above 90 degrees?

Lexi nods her head as if she enjoys the joke.  She cracks a friendly smirk and a forced chuckle as she switches her bag over to the other shoulder.  Once it is there, she takes her turn sighing.

Lexi:  Funny, I was thinking the same thing about your icy heart.  But then I got to thinking that you might not even have a heart to begin with.

Angelica:  Delia?  Does this basic actually think she can get away with talking to us like that?  Listen, hun-ty…

Delia places a hand up in Angelica’s face which causes her to get even angrier.  She smacks Delia’s hand out of her face and pulls the rubber band off of one of the pieces of paper, but before she has a chance to unroll it, Delia rips it out of her hand and crumples it up beyond recognition.

Lexi:  You and I still have some unfinished business, Angie “hunty”.

Angelica:  Why not settle it here and now, bitch?

Even Delia looks stunned by Angelica’s openly blatant attack on Lexi.  However, Lexi remains calm and doesn’t even bother getting tense over it.  She barely removes her eyes from Delia as she responds to Angelica.

Lexi:  You would like that, wouldn’t you?  Picking a fight with me and then calling the cops with your friend to back up whatever story you tell them.  No, honey, that’s assault.  But, if you’re woman enough, I would be happy to handle this in the ring.  The only difference between what Misty did and what I would do, is that Tessa won’t be there to throw under the bus, and I’ll make sure you’re finished for good.

Delia:  Do z’ey hand out generic insults at z’e Jealous Janis club meetings?  Ugh, we’ve heard it before, so save your brea’s…

Angelica still doesn’t seem too pleased but she doesn’t respond.  Tessa walks up to the pair with an empty bag, looking for more papers to hand out, but her eyes lower to the ground the second she sees Lexi standing there.  She grunts angrily as she whispers to Angelica.  After a silent conversation between the two, Angelica begrudgingly leaves the scene with Tessa taking her place.

Lexi:  Hello Tessa.  I just wanted to let you know that the offer still stands…

Tessa:  Eat shite, skag…

Delia:  It seems z’at my girls are not in a good mood today.  However, since turning anos’er year older, I have grown wiser, and know how to choose my battles.  Simply put, you are not wor’s it.  Now, if you would kindly take your leave, we’ve got more important matters to…

Lexi:  No, no… I heard that this business directly affected me.  That is why I ended my workout early, so that we could come out here and have a little chat about these papers you’re handing out.

Delia tucks the bag with the papers underneath her armpit as if she were concealing them from her.  She seems almost defensive over it as her smile fades and turns to something more worrisome.

Delia:  Z’ese papers have nos’ing to do wi’s you at all!  Now I would kindly beg you to leave before we notify z’e aus’orities…

Lexi:  I’m not up on my US law, but I’m pretty sure there is something about unpermitted solicitation, or loitering on private property, so maybe you should call them.

Tessa:  Really, Lexi?  Why don’t ye just like leave us alone.  Delia’s had a shite day and she don’t need ye coming around to make it worse on her with yer jealousy of us.  Just move along please, before we get really nasty.

Lexi:  It’s a little too late for that…

Tessa goes to talk, but Delia simply flips her hair in Lexi’s direction with a scoff.  Tessa allows Delia her time to talk when she sees that Delia is no longer bothered by her presence.

Delia  Whatever, z’is conversation is over.  Unless you want to start a fight… oh wait, z’ere aren’t more girls around to help you like Cindy Warren, or Roxi, Amy, Jessie, Vixen, and Zuri…  Oops, sorry bout it.

Tessa:  Not really though el oh el.

Lexi looks over at Tessa with her eyes narrowed in frustration; however she refuses to dignify her words with a response.  Instead, she pulls the bag from Delia’s grasp, and pulls out a piece of paper.

Delia:  No!  But…!

Lexi maneuvers her hands so that Delia doesn’t get the paper from her grasp.  She unrolls it and takes a quick look at it before any kindness drains from her face.  She stares at it in a mixture of embarrassment and disbelief.  She shakes her head slowly as she looks up, and a possible hint of hurt is detected in her eyes.

Lexi:  Really?  Are you serious?  You’re really doing this?

Tessa:  Yer damn right we are.  We needed a good laugh after the last couple of weeks, so we thought we’d start with the biggest joke of ‘em all…

Tessa’s words have a sting to them as she spits venom at Lexi.  However, Delia doesn’t seem to be very happy with the outcome of this as Lexi crumples the paper up.  She throws it into a nearby waste bin as she keeps her eyes locked on Delia.

Lexi:  Wow, this is really, really low, even for you, Delia…

Delia:  What can I say? I’m willing to do almost anys’ing to make a name for myself…

Lexi:  Obviously.  And of all the things you’ve done over your career, all of the despicable acts, you resort to that?  I hoped that maybe there was some good in you, and that everything these other girls were saying about you wasn’t true, but I guess I was wrong.

Delia:  Yes, I guess you were…

Lexi lowers her eyes to the ground as she simply walks off.  Delia seems disappointed in herself, but she still doesn’t let it show to Tessa who pats her on the back in a friendly manner.  Delia just shakes her head as she turns back to Tessa.

Delia:  How… how did she know we were even out here?  I don’t get it.

Tessa:  Maybe someone inside showed it to her?  I don’t honestly know.  It’s so messed up th…

Mercedes:  Um, Deelz?  You might want to check these papers out.

Delia looks across the lot as Mercedes is marching up toward them.  She looks confused, because she was sure that she knew what the papers said.  She takes the rubber band off of one of the papers and unrolls it slowly.  As she looks down at it, her eyes widen and fill with anger.  Tessa looks over her shoulder and gasps.

Tessa:  Oh my gawd, I thought those papers was supposed to have Lexi on em…

Delia slowly lowers the paper as her anger builds up inside of her.  We zoom in to find a picture of Delia, in a rather revealing outfit against a black background with white border.  In white text above it, is “Now offering private entertainment packages at affordable prices.”  Underneath the photo in slightly smaller print, it reads “There is no deed too dirty for “Double D” Delia Darling…”  Delia shakes her fist in anger, causing Mercedes to stay at a safe distance.  Delia crumples the paper up and throws it on the ground.  She jumps up and down, shrieking at the top of her lungs once again as she stomps it into the ground.  Lexi pulls up in her black vehicle, rolling the window down as she lowers her sunglasses to look out at Delia.

Lexi:  Good luck on your latest business venture.  Oh, and thanks for the heads up…

Delia seems slightly confused, but is still surrounded by her intense anger as she kicks the paper at Lexi.  She throws the bag at Lexi’s car as she casually drives off into the distance.  Tessa grits her teeth as she shakes her head.
[*Fade*]


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” You let it out honey, you put it in the book! –Gretchen Wieners


In just a few short days, the crowd will fill the Tustin High School Gymnasium in Mesa, Arizona to it’s fullest capacity.  Rumor has it that the show sold out weeks ago, though a certain Mean Girl would deny it.  Her ego would prefer to lead people to believe that she and her tag partners are the reason it is sold out.  People do have a habit of wanting to see what these girls do next, so she might be partially true, but her opponents are top quality, and despite her façade, she is rather nervous about the upcoming match.  She has butterflies in the pit of her stomach, and she can’t help but feel that two of the three opponents for the week could make her career, should she defeat them, or break it should they defeat her.  In all honesty, she has a respect for all three opponents, but one of them has wounded her pride in the worst way, which is something that this particular opponent knows, and exploits regularly.  Therefore, even in the deepest recesses of her mind, she can’t fathom showing Amy Marshall any respect.

We fade into the Tustin High Gymnasium where the ring is completely set up, as well as the ramp.  The bleachers are tucked away, and there are no seats surrounding the ringside area whatsoever.  Something that is not commonly seen in SCW, is the amount of thought that goes into the true Delia experience.  Today, we will see exactly how much work goes into the preparation of such a production, as the ring crew finishes securing the trademark runway that Delia uses during every entrance she makes.  We can hear one of the crew members speaking faintly into a walkie talkie before tucking it back into his jean pocket.  He and his five assistants lean against the ring as they take a small break.  We are expecting to see the full glory of Delia’s custom entrance, along with a beautiful display that reminds us that she is an artist first and foremost.  However, there is nothing at all.  We are only greeted with the generic chit chat of the ring crew for roughly two full minutes of waiting (im)patiently.  Finally, the curtains are thrown to the side as Delia slowly steps through them, a look of demur on her face.  Rather than seeing the full theatrical costume that Delia is certain to be wearing, we are met with a shockingly plain Delia.  Her straightened chestnut hair is pulled back into a ponytail that bounces behind her as she walks.  She is wearing a tight pink Under Armour tank top and tight black sport shorts.  She is wearing black elbow and knee pads, as well as a set of wrestling boots.  She seems to be walking to music that we cannot hear, thanks to the white earbuds leading to an iPod that is tucked into the elastic band of her shorts.  Her mouth moves as she says barely loud enough for us to hear.

Delia:  One and two, three, four, and five, and six, and seven, eight!

Though she speaks in a whisper, there is a certain authority to it.  She gives a firm twirl, spinning in a full circle on the balls of her heels.  She doesn’t seem happy with the twirl, so she takes a few steps back rewinding the music just a little.  Planting her feet firmly against the runway, she walks again, in time with the music.  She moves her lips once more, but the whisper is much fainter than before.  Presumably on eight, she spins around the opposite way before continuing forward.  Every move seems to have a purpose as she makes her way to the ropes where she points to an invisible person, and then another.  She steps between said people and then spins around.  She throws a fist into the air like a rock star, before dropping down into the splits.  The ring crew can’t help but take a gander at her well toned, yet rather large backside.  Delia doesn’t even notice as she comes up to her knees and then slides her foot over the bottom rope, stepping inside.  She walks the length of the ring in her typical runway fashion before stopping.  She pulls the earbuds from her ears and then drapes them around her neck.  A gruff looking man in his late twenties whistles at Delia, hoping for some sort of reaction from her, whether it is good or bad.  Delia stares at him, her eyes cold and calculating before she finally cracks a smirk.

Delia:  Jacob, you’re too kind to me sometimes.  Z’at is why I only trust you to lead z’e team when setting up my runway.

Jacob:  You’re only saying that because I’m a bald, tattooed guy who your mom would never approve of.

Delia:  Ah ha, I see you pay attention to Twitter, no?

Jacob smirks as he puffs his chest out.  Delia rolls her eyes at him as the others give him a loud ovation in the manliest of ways.  Delia walks over to the ropes and leans through, resting her bosom on the middle rope as she plays a rather convincing flirt.

Delia:  Would you do me the smallest of favors, Jakie?  I have a chair inside of z’e curtains wi’s a book on top of it.  Would you please get it for me?

Jacob:  What will you do for me if I do?

Delia:  I talk to you in public. Is z’at not enough?

The guys around him let out a resounding “OOOOOOOOOH!” as Delia curls the corner of her lips into a smirk.  She bats her eyelashes at him playfully before a redness comes to his cheeks and a smile that is hidden under his copper goatee.  She reaches out and ruffles his lack of hair before tickling at his chin.

Jacob:  You always shut me down, so why should I run around doing favors for you?

Delia:  I promise if you do z’is favor for me, I will make it wor’s your while… How about a kiss in front of all of your little buddies?

Jacob thinks about it for a second as his friends laugh.  She smiles playfully as Jacob climbs onto the runway, walking as if he weren’t in a hurry, but his pace says otherwise.  Within thirty seconds he is rushing down the runway with a pink book tucked under his arm, and a pink steel chair with the Mean Girls Burn Book style logo printed on the back.  He comes up to the ring and sets the chair against the ropes before handing the book to Delia.  He leans over the ropes and puckers his lips up as the laughs roll in once more.  Delia sways her hips seductively as she takes a step closer, wrapping one arm around Jacob’s neck.  She leans up, but at the last second, she plants a sweet, friendly kiss on his cheek, causing a boo to come from his friend.

Delia:  Z’ere is your kiss, Jacob.  You’re welco…

Before she can finish her sentence, Jacob grabs the book from her grasp and holds it up above her head.  She gasps in surprise as she tries to grab at it.  However, his slight height advantage allows him to keep it away from her.

Jacob:  A real kiss, or I keep the book and sell it on eBay.

13
Climax Control Archives / Girl Talk (Holly RP)
« on: August 22, 2014, 09:51:48 PM »
 
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Two Weeks Ago

Bitch, bitch, bitch… Blah, blah, blah… Gabe, Gabe, Gabe… Amy, Amy, Amy… Alex Jeffries stares ahead with a blank expression written all over his face.  He slowly blinks and nods his head as the music blares inside of Krave night club in Las Vegas.  A good friend would be doing what Alex was doing, right?  Not slapping the fuck out of a bitch who needs it, because she can’t see that she’s obsessing over a guy who is clearly not worth her time.  Alex looks across the bar, noticing a couple of guys staring over in their direction.  He winks at the one with dark hair and a clean cut mustache, puckering his lips to blow him a kiss.  He locks onto his icy blue eyes that pop more so because of his incredible tan.  Suddenly, Delia’s incessant complaining has completely faded away.  Alex softens his expression as he slides the red straw between his lips, sucking in the beverage in a manner that shows he knows what he’s doing.  The man at the bar ignores his friend completely as he turns to Alex, pushing his crotch forward, showing off the bulge through his tight jeans.  Alex licks at his lips as he starts to fantasize, until…

*Snap snap snap*

Delia:  Um, hello?!  Is she not like a disgusting, fugly slut?

Alex:  Yeah, girl’s got problems. She’s got some kind of obsession with my junk…

Delia:  Right?  Ugh, she’s so basic.

Alex looks to Delia for a second to feign interest before looking back to the bar.  Mr. Crotch pusher is nowhere in sight.  Alex sinks down in his seat as he sees the guy walking over to someone else.  He shakes his head from side to side before sighing and looking back to Delia.

Alex:  Girl, seriously, we’ve been talkin’ bout this for like the last hour. I thought we came here to forget about all of that?  Where is Emersyn anyway?

Alex looks around the club for their friend, spotting her dancing dirty with a few of the guys in the middle of the club.  For those who aren’t familiar with Krave, they would be worried about the guys dancing with her, but Alex knows that he’s the one to look out for inside Krave.  Delia waves her hand as she continues talking.

Delia:  I’m not obsessed wi’s it… I just don’t get it.  Why choose her over me?  Z’at’s like choosing McDonalds over Filet Mignon… Ohhh, I’m going to Tweet z’at one…

Delia pulls her phone out as Alex just groans, running his hands over his forehead and tangling his fingers in his medium length blonde hair.  He glares through his fingers at Delia who is quickly typing away at her phone with a proud smile on her face.  Alex looks down at his empty cup.

Alex:  Oh no, that can’t be goin’ on right now… Do you need another drink yet, Deelz?

Delia waves at him impatiently as he mutters curses at her under her breath.  He starts to walk over to the bar with his glass in hand.  As if on cue, the music switches up to “Born Naked” by RuPaul.  He sets the glass on the bar and notices the men coming around Emersyn more and more, and she’s loving it, reeling them in with her red tank top and hip hugging jeans.  She flips her black hair back, and the confidence seems to draw them in.  It’s like cat nip for gays who are hagless.  Alex even finds himself drawn to the dance floor.  He rushes over to the dance floor as the guitar starts up.  Before the first words are spoken, he is right up next to Emersyn, and it is clear that he’s trying to steal some of her heat with the men.  Emersyn has other ideas as she wraps a leg around him, blushing and laughing as she shows off her rock star attitude.  She flings her hair around, letting it fall down as Alex shows a rare moment, taking control.  He spins her around, bending her over, but she comes back up, resting against his chest as she reels in another one.  The crowd forms around them, closing in as they enjoy their time.  Someone turns Alex around and they begin dancing, all while his backside is firmly pressed against hers.

*Who do you think you are?  We’re telling the truth now, we’re all born naked, and the rest is dra-ag!*

The crowd can’t get close enough to the heat as they move, working up a sweat.  Alex turns back around, spinning Emersyn back to face him.  She whips her hair around, moving her body in a way that would bring any straight man to their knees.  However, Alex matches it, bringing all eyes onto him finally.  Emersyn slowly backs away, giving him a wink, having done her job as the men swarm around him.  She stands to the side, allowing him to finish dancing to the music.  As the song fades out, she pulls him away quickly.  He looks confused as he stares at her.

Alex:  Ems, what are you doing?  I was about to get like five numbers…

Emersyn:  You’re about to get ten number, now luv…  Just follow me.

Alex is still confused, but the prospect of ten phone numbers draws his interest in some.  She drags him back to the table where Delia is.  She grabs onto Delia’s untouched drink, slamming back a gulp, wiping her mouth as she sighs, collapsing into the chair.

Emersyn:  I can’t believe it took me so long to figure out that the best night clubs are the gay clubs…

Alex:  Yeah, cause we ain’t gonna try nothin’ to get in your pants, hun-ty…

Delia:  Yeah, all z’ey do is ditch you in z’e middle of a conversation and go off dancing…

Alex:  Five G’s; Good Gawd Girl Getta Grip… It ain’t like we been talkin’ bout anything other than Amy Marshall and Gabriel Asar… Like it’s that big of a deal when you got that Rupert guy chasing your tail?

Delia rolls her eyes at him, placing a hand in his face as Emersyn chuckles.  Delia looks over to Emersyn and scoffs.  Emersyn purses her lips, trying to hold back her chuckling.  Delia places her other hand in Emersyn’s face before finally succumbing to the humor of the situation.  All three laugh as Alex leans forward and kisses Delia’s palm.

Alex:  Seriously, we can’t sit here all night talkin’ bout shrinky dink, kay?  Seriously, dude’s hung like a tic tac… just sayin’!

Emersyn laughs again loudly, and Delia tries to conduct herself with a sense of demur, however she can’t help but laugh also.  Alex winks as he takes Delia’s drink, finishing it off quickly.

Alex:  Now, Mr. Rupert… Royston… Fellowes… the third?

Alex balls up his fist and makes a muscle, causing a few veins to pop up.  He holds it straight up, and a little to the left, causing Emersyn to howl in delight.  Delia reaches across the table and slaps the hand.  Alex winks again and puts on his best butch boy impression.

Holly:  Oh yerrr!  Smack it again toots, or yerrrrrrr!

Delia: Ha ha! Bitch, you better stop it!  You know I can’t afford to get laugh lines on this beautiful face of mine.

Emersyn:  We need to go out at least every night from here on out.  You guys crack me up.

Emersyn sips out the last little bit on the bottom of the cup as she stands up to fetch another drink.  Delia sighs as Alex slowly lets his arm rest, lying limp on the table.  He looks down to it, contemplating making another Amy Marshall joke, but he can’t bring himself to go back to that topic again.  Instead, he lets his arm fall toward the ground, enjoying the joke to himself.  Delia fiddles with her phone impatiently.

Alex:  He’s not going to call.  He’s not going to text.  You should go out there and dance.  Get yo dirty on with a man you ain’t gonna fall in love with.  Give me some time to regain my sanity after hearing that asshole’s name for an hour straight…

Delia:  Yes, darling… I’m sorry about z’at. And sorry about bringing her up too.

Alex:  Amy?  Girl, I been done heard that for the last three months, so it’s whatever… Now don’t make me carry you out there and throw you in the middle of sweaty, shirtless men who don’t wanna screw you… go on and git!

Delia slides out of her chair, giving Alex a smirk as she quickly spins around to walk to the dance floor.  Just as she is leaving, Emersyn comes back over to the table, carrying three drinks.  She looks to Delia with a wide eyed expression before setting the drinks down on the table.

Emersyn:  How the bloody ‘ell did you get her away from this table?  I tried for an hour before you got here and saved me…

Alex:  I just got lucky I guess. I got things coming up, and I couldn’t sit here all night listening to her.  Not sober, anyway.  I would need about twenty more cocktails for that shit…  I got a match against a disgusting schizophrenic who looks like an ex junkie…

Emersyn:  So you’re facing one of your exes?

Emersyn gives a cheeky grin at Alex who laughs in return.  He nods his head as if agreeing with this as he fiddles with the straw in his glass.

Alex:  That does sum up most of my dating past, but no… Some guy named Vince Peterson.  He might be your type though, hunty.  Greasy hair, unkempt facial hair, track marks on his arms…

Emersyn:  Sod off jackass!  You’re such a bitch.

Alex:  But would you have me any other way?

Alex does a curtsy in his seat, batting his eyelashes as Emersyn reaches across the table and slaps his arm playfully.  Alex holds onto her hand in a friendly manner as he as Alex continues speaking about his upcoming bout.

Alex:  SCW seems to have a prerequisite of hiring people with mental disorders.  This Vince guy for one. Misty was normal and they got rid of her, but then she became obsessed with us, and started getting all crazy and poof, she reappears on the roster.  It’s so stupid…  I almost can’t take it anymore.

Emersyn:  Then don’t.  Refuse to face someone like that if you don’t feel safe doing it.  I mean, it sound like you could get some kind of disease.  I would order SCW to cancel the match. Then you will see that they will stop putting you in such bullshit matches.

Alex:  Yeah, I’m sure they will do just that, sweetheart.  But I’m going to pull a Delia and start making demands. I mean, look how it works out for her.  She got a Number One Contendership to the Bombshells Championship, and people can’t stop talking about her. I’m doing it, I’m gonna demand that they not make me face that Vince guy. Give this ladyboy some respect…

Just then, Delia walks back over, creeping up slowly behind Alex as she listens to him giving her compliments, amidst his complaining.  She takes it with a smile before finally resting her hands on his shoulders, rubbing them hard as she leans down and does her best butch, All-American male impression.

Delia:  Z’at Dell-ya girl is hot stuff, ain’t she?  Almost as hot as your sweet cheeks…

Emersyn laughs at this as Alex brushes it off.  He rolls his eyes as he shrugs Delia’s hands off of his shoulders.  She scoffs at this until Alex pulls her down into his lap where he plants his lips firmly against hers, causing Emersyn to nearly fall out of her chair, laughing.  Delia struggles hard to get away from this, but Alex asserts himself until Delia just goes limp, allowing him to dominate her mouth.
[*Fade*]

***********************************

Girl Talk XOXO Session One

”I did just that, too.  I walked up to Mark Ward’s office, I knocked on the door, and I puffed out my chest, looking damn intimidating for a dude in a dress.  I had on my war paint, dressed to the nines, and I was ready to demand that I still get paid for the night of work, and that he should cancel my match for being a risk.  As soon as he opened the door, I looked him straight in the eye, and I said ‘Mr. Ward! I demand that you turn around and let me bounce a quarter off of that ass to test Mr. Underwood’s theory!’ After I realized what came out of my mouth, I turned and walked away to find Mr. Underwood.  I was ready to show that I ain’t some push over who is some token to the Mean Girls.  However, when I got to Mr. Underwood’s office, he and Mr. Staggs was having some true talks, and I didn’t wanna bother them, ya know?

“I’m just too damn considerate sometimes… Maybe Delia was right.  Who am I kidding, she’s always right.  At least in her mind.  But goddamn if she ain’t fabulous and she always dressed to the nines.  When people mistake her for the leader of Mean Girls, I’m the only one who don’t get up in arms about it.  Angelica don’t have a ring presence.  Veronica is too worried about herself to organize a group.  Liz is too green, and love her to death, but she’s no more about the group than Veronica is.  Tessa… hahaha yeah right, and Mercedes is too new to the group.  That leaves me and Delia, and I ain’t got time to deal with some white girl wasted bullshit drama, ya heard?  Plus, I’m obviously too nice.

“But, everyone thinks I stood up for myself two weeks ago. They think I marched up to the bosses and told them what the hell was up.  No, it turns out that Vince had some kind of travel emergency, and I kindly agreed that the match didn’t need to happen. They offered me my appearance fee for travelling there, so nothing looked suspect.  Girl to girl, I trust that you will keep my secret.  Aside from reading some bitches from time to time, they think I’m almost as nice as Katherine Kensington. They don’t think I got a mean bone in my body.  I gotta do something serious to make them believe that I’m just as mean as them… Oh snap, I gotta go.  Thanks for listening. You a real peach and all…”

\' target=\'_blank\'>http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v674/GXW...


”Wild Side”

The classic Lou Reed song silently creeps into our ears as the scene slowly begins to fade in.  Our eyes start to adjust as the music slowly gets louder.  As it progresses, the image becomes more and more clear as we see a glistening image of Holly Wood, a feigned smile spread across her face.  However, despite the ornate frame around the picture, she begins to move.  We quickly notice that it is a reflection in the mirror.  Holly Wood standing firmly in place as she ridicules herself.  She bites at her bottom lip as she adjusts her breast plate through the nude tone dress that hugs onto her luscious curves.  The light catches hints of glitter in the dress.  Once she is happy with the positioning of her fake chest, she fluffs up her wavy blonde locks that are reminiscent of our very own Bombshell Champion, Vixen.  Holly turns slightly, looking over her shoulder and into the mirror, closing one eye as she carefully inspects herself.  Finally she seems satisfied with the product in the mirror.  Stepping back, we find Holly standing in a motel room that looks like it smells of cheap cigarettes, and even cheaper whiskey.  She looks at her surroundings, forcing a smile onto her face as she picks up her purse, flinging it over her shoulders.  She steps to the door and flings it open as she begins walking.

We follow her down the sunset strip.  We see Holly surrounded by every color of the LGBT rainbow, and nobody bats an eyelash at Holly.  The bigger the heels and the bigger the hair, the more respectful nods she gets.  Today, there is a lot of nods headed her way, causing a smile to come across her face.  West Hollywood was the one place she feels at home.  The sun glistens off of her dress as she stops and leans against a wall that has a poster of herself.  She pulls a cigarette out of a pack in her purse.  She lights it, taking a slow drag as she waits patiently.  The music keeps going as she slowly puffs on the cigarette.  It seems like another gay, bright sunshiney day in the world of Holly Wood.  However, just a few seconds later, the electronic beat of “Amazing” by Hi Fashion drowns out Lou Reed, as a pink Corvette pulls up in front of Holly, breaking the relaxing tone of the day.

Angelica:  Hey bitch… get in!

Holly opens her eyes before rolling them.  She pushes herself off of the wall and slowly walks over to the car.  She flings the door open and gets inside, all while holding the cigarette between her lips firmly.  Angelica stares at Holly, blinking slowly before reaching for the cigarette, pulling it from Holly’s mouth.

Angelica:  Seriously, girl?  Oh my gawd, if Delia sees any ash marks in her car, she’s going to be totally pissed.

Before Holly can protest, Tessa leans up from the back seat where she had been lying down.  The wind blows through her hair as she pulls the sparkling sunglasses from over her eyes.

Tessa:  God forbid Delia has a bloody fuckin’ cow over something legitimate, yeah?

Holly:  Five G’s, hunty… Besides, who says she even has to know?

Holly takes the cigarette back from Angelica’s hand and takes a puff.  Tessa licks her lips, but is afraid to ask.  Holly reaches into her purse and pulls out another cigarette before handing it back to a giddy Tessa.  She lights it as Angelica’s mouth is gaped open.  Holly lifts Angelica’s chin, and then turns her head to face forward as a sign to drive.  Holly tumbles into the back seat with Tessa, who giggles and makes room for Holly.

Angelica:  Seriously, you’d rather sit next to the help than to sit next to me?

Holly:  Gurrrrrl… There was somethin’ smellin’ funny up there. It smelled kinda like shit.  You know, it smelled familiar, and now that I think about it…

Holly taps her chin for a second before doing a sarcastic gasp followed by a smile.  She pokes Angelica’s shoulder as she stares back, feigning interest.

Holly: … it’s your attitude!

Tessa laughs loudly before shoving Holly playfully.  Angelica grits her teeth before putting the petal to the metal, speeding off down the road.  Angelica turns down the radio as the wind blows through their hair, making them look even more fabulous than they normally would.  Tessa takes a drag from her cigarette as she looks over to Holly.

Tessa:  So how about yer match? It’s soooo crazy, right?

Holly:  Girl, please… It’s lame is what it is. I should go back up to Erik Staggs’ office and demand that he cancel this match too.

Tessa:  You totally should! You’re such a cheeky bitch, Hollz.

Holly smirks as she takes the last drag from her cigarette before flicking it over the side of the moving car.  Tessa does the same as they move along. Holly nods her head slowly as she brushes a few rogue strands of hair out of her face.

Tessa:  That Jealous Janis girl that keeps trying to talk to me about leaving Mean Girls needs to get shut up so bad right now. I hope you can do that.

Holly:  Girl, Electra ain’t no concern for me. I can’t even touch her.  That’s all on Veronica. I will say that she is in for a rude awakening if she thinks she can mess with us Mean Girls.  I already know that Veronica can handle her own, you know what I’m saying?  She don’t need me to handle this basic bitch.

Tessa and Angelica both nod their heads as Holly preaches.  Tessa leans sideways and places her feet up on Holly’s lap as she gets extra comfortable.  Holly puts her head back, letting the wind blow through her hair until they come to a stoplight.

Tessa:  And that old, weird Darth Vader guy, it’s so tragic…

Holly:  Ohhh, I don’t know about that. I mean when he ain’t wearing the mask shit, he kinda cute.  Even for an older guy…

Angelica:  Ewwwwwuhhhh!  Ga-ross!  You’re sooooo nasty talking like that because he’s so masic.

Holly:  Hunty, that guy is stacked!  He’s almost seven foot tall, muscles every-damn-where, and you know dude’s gotta be hung like an elephant.

Tessa grins as Angelica simply scoffs.  She flips her hair as the light finally changes to green.  She begins driving down the strip, sunglasses covering her eyes and reflecting the orange sunset.

Angelica: I’m going to just play chauffer now, because if I continue to listen to you talk about Horace Fricken Jackson like that, I’m going to throw up…

Tessa:  Angie, don’t act like such a prude. He’s kind of cute, like a daddy type, maybe?

Holly:  Girl, I would climb him like a cat climbs a tree. I don’t mind the daddy types, cause sometimes Mz. Holly Wood needs some corrective spankings and such…

Angelica gags as she pretends to vomit out of the side of the car.  Tessa laughs and slaps the back of Angelica’s seat.  Holly keeps a straight face, letting them both know that she is not joking.  She blinks for a second before continuing.

Holly:  I’m serious. Boy looks like he could wear me out, like I would have to sleep for days after a night.

Tessa:  Yer so bad!  He’s got a wife ye know?

Holly:  She could watch if that’s her thing.  I mean, she gets to watch while I grind on her man on Sunday.  I’m gonna draw him in, show him how it shoulda been done all along.  I’m gonna bring him to his knees and then, at the last second… I’m gonna tell him to “Sashay Away”, and we gonna win against the Jealous Janis and Company, like we always should have been.

Angelica shakes her head, biting at her bottom lip to stop herself from striking back verbally.  Holly blows her a quick kiss as a sarcastic apology before looking back over to Tessa.

Holly:  That’s how Holly does things, ladies.  Reel them in, then chew them up, and spit them out.

Angelica: Spit? That’s not what word on the street says…

Holly: … and you wrong for that, bitch.  But eh-nee-ways!  Ask Connor Murphy how I play.  Ask Ben Jordan.  The Soulless Empire, or whatever the fuck he’s going by this week, will be able to tell you the same thing next Monday.  Veronica will handle Ms. Styles, and I will handle Mr. Jackson. I’m gonna make sure my undefeated streak stays intact just like Ms. Darling’s…  See you Sunday, hunties…

Tessa:  Since when did ye get to be so polite, Ms. Wood?

Tessa giggles as Holly shrugs her shoulders, winking at Tessa from the corner of her eye before smirking confidently as she places her lips to the palm of her hand.  She blows a kiss toward the camera and then waves as “Wild Side” begins playing once more.  We go to a birds eye view as the pink Corvette drives off into the distance.
[*Fade*]

14
Climax Control Archives / Faults in the Foundation...
« on: August 05, 2014, 11:28:41 PM »
 *Immediately following Climax Control*

The curtains fly open as Delia and Liz rush through them, laughing as they are breathing heavily.  They quickly walk off to the side, proud of themselves after the sneak attack on Misty.  Mercedes Vargas comes back, sighing with a bit of a laugh as she turns to look back through the curtains, admiring her handiwork.  Veronica and Holly both look as if they are more mad that their hair is messed up than anything.  Angelica pushes the curtain to the side and waves it off like none of what just happened was a big deal.  She kindly holds it open, only to allow it to smack Tessa in the face as she comes through.  Tessa waves the curtain off of her, glaring over at Angelica before walking over toward the catering table.  She grabs water and pops a pill into her mouth as she quickly chases it with the water.  She gasps as she lets it settle in for a second before taking another small sip of water, wiping it away from her mouth.

Tessa:  That was amazing, ladies.  We really showed them basics how we do this, yeah?

Angelica rolls her eyes as Tessa leans against the table, showing off her seductive side a bit with how she spreads herself out.  Tessa glares at Angelica as she turns away, giving her a quick middle finger in a flash, biting her bottom lip in anger.  She looks down at her wrist watch which is buried under her dozens of random bracelets, somehow spotting the time through all of it.

Tessa:  Bloody fuckin’ cunt…

Angelica:  Ummm, what did you say?

Tessa:  I said um, stunt cock…

Angelica raises an eyebrow as she stares at Tessa for a second before holding a hand up in the air, turning back to face the other Mean Girls.  Tessa sticks her tongue out and then turns back to the table, picking up a cookie, snapping off a piece as she places it in her mouth.  Delia walks up to her, glancing back at the other Mean Girls as she leans against the table, next to Tessa.

Delia:  You know… you might want to slow down on z’e junk food, darling. Your stomach isn’t as flat as it used to be…

Delia takes the cookie from Tessa’s hand, making sure that no one else sees her as she takes a bite from the cookie.  She sets the half eaten cookie on the table cloth as Tessa rolls her eyes.  Delia slowly saunters off.

Tessa:  Ye stupid fucking bitches… I don’t know why I hang out with ye…  Ye don’t appreciate a thing I do.

Tessa sighs as the girls all walk off, hearing the medical team approaching.  They all laugh as they leave Tessa on her own.  This isn’t something uncommon, so she just ignores the gesture.  She sees the curtains fly to the side as the foes of the evening file through the curtain.  Tessa curses under her breath as she looks from side to side, seeing no clear exit.  She ducks under the table, using the sheer table cloth to hide herself.

“These girls are so out of hand.  They need to be dealt with quickly.”

“What do you think *wince* I was trying to do.  It isn’t like any of you wanted to make a stand before. You just let them walk all over the division.”

Tessa holds her breath as she listens to the words, while the voices are not distinguishable.  The words continue to flow from the mouths of the ladies, but as they get further away, Tessa can’t hear anything.  She peeks her head from under the table, but notices that the stagehands are starting to bring equipment through the curtains.  She quickly ducks back under the table, afraid of having someone spot her under the table.  Surely they would think she was strange.

Tessa:  They left me, again… Tessa, yer always the afterthought.  Ye were never a priority for Mickey.  Ye was forgotten about by yer own mum.  Yer dad didn’t give two shits about ye.  Why should yer friends be any different?

Tessa pounds her fist against the ground angrily as she hugs onto her knees.  She lets her wavy blonde hair fall down over her face, cascading down her knees as she sighs with indignity.  Once again, she finds herself sitting alone, even though she’s technically with the “premier” stable in the Bombshell Division.

Tessa:  C’mon happy pill. Do yer magic before I start crying under a table, on a filthy concrete floor, again… Yeah, ye heard me. I said again.  They got their newest toy, so they don’t give a shit about ye.

Tessa gives in to the depressing idea of being alone, and she begins sobbing into her knees.  After a few seconds of this, a loud text alert breaks her concentration.  She reaches into her pocket, fumbling around until she pulls her phone out of her pocket.  She wipes a few strands of her wild hair out of her face, seeing a text message from Delia, reading “Where are you darling?? We thought you were right behind us…”  Tessa stares at it for a second before smacking herself upside her head, letting a chuckle out.  She wipes her hair out of her face, taking a few tears with it.  She shakes her head from side to side as she begins responding.

Tessa:  Tessa love… maybe yer as crazy as they say ye are. The Jealous Janis girls was on their way back so they had to split quick.

Tessa smiles as she sends the message.  No sooner than it sends does another text come through.  She is amazed at how quickly Delia responded to her, but is dumbstruck when she reads the message. “I’m thirsty and Angelica still doesn’t have her water either”.  Tessa scoffs, clinching the phone in her hands angrily as she growls.  She acts as if she is going to chuck the phone across the floor, but she takes a deep breath.  The pill is kicking in as she relaxes.  Her legs slowly lay flat on the ground.  She slides down onto the floor comfortably, not caring any longer.  She tucks her arms under her face as she gets comfortable.  However, this doesn’t last long as someone stumbles over her legs, falling down against the ground.  Tessa winces in pain and grunts weakly as her emerald eyes flutter open.  She stares directly into a pair of blue eyes as a scruffy man feels around on the ground for something, papers raining down on him.

Tessa:  Oi, mate. Can’t ye tell I’m trying to take a nap here?

Man:  I can see that, but um… can I ask why you’re doing it in the middle of the floor?

Tessa just groans in response as she rolls over onto her back.  She can’t be bothered to respond right now.  He finally finds a pair of black rimmed glasses, placing them on his face again.  He stares around at the papers spread all over the floor and he begins gathering them.

Man:  Well, I’m sorry for disturbing your nap… Tessa?

Tessa nods her head as she decides to help him gather his papers.  She picks up about three of them without moving from her spot.  He reaches a hand down to her, offering to help her up.  She wiggles from under the table before accepting the hand.  He pulls her up quickly, with less effort than even he expected.  She stumbles into his arms awkwardly, letting out a light giggle as she places the three papers into his arms.

Tessa:  Umm… here’s your stuff er whatever… cute paper guy.

Man:  â€œCute paper guy”?  Seriously?  That’s the lamest attempt at flirting I’ve ever heard, and obviously I attract the awkward girls, so that says a lot.

He flashes her a playful smirk.  Tessa waves him off and turns around.  She dusts herself off before bending over to pick up a few more pieces of paper.  He picks up the remainder as they bump back into each other.

Man:  You know, we really need to stop meeting this way…

Tessa:  Yeah, we do.  Why do ye keep bumping into me, masic one?

Man:  Masic?  Wow, it doesn’t sound any less generic with a British accent.

Tessa rolls her eyes, getting her Mean Girl attitude back.  Even with his goofy smirk signifying that he is joking, it doesn’t make a difference as she snatches a few bottles of chilled water from the table, ready to walk off.

Man:  Well okay, um… sorry for bumping into you.  By the way, you might want to take one of these.

Tessa:  Ye know what?  I’ve suddenly run outta fucks to give tonight.  Let Delia Fuckin’ Darling get her own fucking memorandums…

Man:  You probably could have littered that with a few more “F Bombs” Ms. Flannigan. But no, you’re on the card this week, so I’m obligated to give you one specifically.  However, I will let the other Mean Girls get their own fucking memorandums…

He chuckles at his own quip as Tessa’s brows furl in confusion.  She snatches the paper from his hand and glances down at it.  She notices the typical Holly Wood being accompanied by a thousand unnecessary people, coming to a screeching halt when she sees that she and Angelica are teaming up to face Misty in a Handicap Match.

Tessa:  Bloody ‘ell mate!  Ye wasn’t jokin’ was ye?  I… I… I don’t wrestle though.

Man:  Well you do this week, don’t you?

Tessa:  Must be a typo, yeah?  Surely they meant Delia and Liz?  Or Delia and Veronica?  Or anyone but me?

The man shrugs, though the expression on his face says otherwise.  He runs his fingers over the dark stubble on his face.  She shakes her head from side to side slowly as she re-reads the paper about a hundred more time.

Man:  Well, good luck to you, Tessa.  I’d be more afraid of having to team with the bosses piece of ass than facing Misty.  That piece is a frigid bitch.

Tessa:  Hey!  That’s one of me mates ye know?

Man:  Right, um… sorry?

Tessa flashes him a smirk, giggling.  He is surprised by this, but quickly joins in the laughter.  She flips her hair out of her face, flashing him a sultry stare which makes the semi awkward dork squirm a little, a few beads of sweat appearing on his forehead.

Tessa:  So, ye seem to know a lot about me.  I don’t even know yer name, love.  Why don’t ye share it with me?

Man:  Oh, um…

Angelica:  Girl, there’s gonna be a war in the locker room if you don’t appear in there with two waters like five fricken minutes ago…

Angelica has a hand on her hips as she snaps her fingers at Tessa.  She looks over to the man standing there.  She rolls her eyes and then scoffs at him.

Angelica:  Jeffrey, how many times do I have to tell you.  Your awkward sweaty forehead needs to be covered up.  That’s like sexual harassment and it’s weird.  Masic be gone…

Jeffrey, as he has come to be known, chuckles nervously as he stares back down at the floor.  He shuffles a few of the papers around, handing one to Angelica.

Jeffrey:  Oh, um, sorry…

Angelica:  Why are you handing this to me?  Tessa already has one…  Kay thanks byeeee…

Angelica tosses the paper behind her without giving it one single glance.  She rips the bottle of water out of Tessa’s hand and unscrews the cap, taking a long drink from it.  Tessa goes to speak, and Angelica stops her with a hand to the face.  Tessa bites onto her bottom lip, taking one last glare at the paper.  Suddenly, a satisfied grin comes over her face as she looks down at the ground to hide it.  However, even if Angelica can’t see it, we can all see the joy that Tessa feels, knowing how badly Angelica will react when she sees the news…
[*Fade*]

We fade into a gymnasium where a wrestling ring is set up.  Inside, we can see the blonde Tessa Flannigan standing opposite an unknown female grappler.  Angelica is seen in a black sports bra and a pair of small salmon pink shorts.  She is standing on the outside of the ring as Tessa runs up to the girl.  The girl goes for a Clothesline, but Tessa ducks under it, catching her with the back of her boot in the face.  Angelica nods her head in approval.  As the girl stumbles backward, Tessa grabs onto her hair and drops down to the mat, bringing the girl down with her.  Tessa untangles her fingers from her opponent’s hair and wraps her legs around their neck, wrenching it.  Angelica claps her hands loudly.

Angelica:  You’re doing great, Tessa.  You two stand up and go at it again.  Valerie, please don’t hold back on her. I wanna make sure she’s ready to team with me on Sunday.

Valerie nods her head, but the expression on her face says that she hasn’t been taking it easy.  Tessa smirks, proud of herself as Angelica scoffs.  This makes Tessa rolls her eyes, not letting it get to her.  She claps her hands together before rubbing them.  She leans down and sizes Valerie up.  She adjusts the straps on her black boots, waving her hair behind her before she charges forward.  Valerie lifts Tessa up, but Tessa surprises us all as she wraps her legs around Valerie’s neck, bringing her down to the mat with a Leg Scissors Take Down.  Angelica scoffs once again as Valerie skids across the ring.  Tessa drops down and locks on a Camel Clutch as Angelica runs her nails across the canvas in annoyance.

Angelica:  That was the sloppiest Head Scissors I’ve ever seen, Tess. And that Camel Clutch is so basic… I didn’t even teach it to you.

Tessa:  Yeah, Mickey did a while ago.

Angelica: I don’t need to hear about your gross sexual escapades, kay?  Just do the moves that I taught you…

Angelica rolls her eyes as Tessa lets go of the Camel Clutch hold.  Valerie takes in a deep breath, wiping her hands across her forehead to remove the beads of sweat.  Tessa fixes her hair as she looks down at Angelica.  She has a bit of a snarky expression etched on her face as she walks back to her corner.

Tessa:  Angie, yer majesty, what move should I work on next?

Angelica is clearly annoyed as she runs a finger across her forehead, moving a few strands of stray hair out of her face.  She laces her fingers together as she looks up at the ceiling.  Turning around, she slowly lowers her head to stare at Tessa, opening her mouth for a second before speaking.

Angelica: That will be all for now, Tessa… You’re wasting Valerie’s time, and my time, so go hit the showers please?  And spray some Veronica’s Secret on you because you smell like shit…

Tessa moves her hands as she mimics Angelica’s complaining.  Angelica crinkles her nose before flipping her hair over her shoulder.  She turns away as Tessa hears her phone alerting her of a text message.  She quickly hops out of the ring and walks over to a black gym bag sitting on the bench to the side.  She pulls her phone out and scrolls a finger across the screen.  She smirks and then looks over to Angelica.

Tessa:  Nice job, Angie… Ye forgot to tell me that the Delia and Liz was heading to New York, and Delia’s wondering why I’m not there.  Yer attempts at sabotage as pathetic, sweets…

Angelica’s brows furl in anger as she simply scoffs at the notion.  Tessa flips her hair, clearly over the hard feelings from Sunday evening.  She blows Angelica a kiss before taking her bag to the shower room.  Valerie rolls outside of the ring and wraps an arm around Angelica.

Valerie:  Why are you being so hard on her?  For a beginner, she’s doing great.

Angelica:  Because I don’t deal with less than the best anymore.

Valerie:  Is that why you don’t invite me to your room with Mark anymore?

Angelica rolls her eyes and flings Valerie’s arm off of her.  She walks over to a mirror and begins to run her fingers through her hair before kicking the wall next to the mirror.

Angelica:  Whatever… She wants to give me lip, and now you do too? Go take a shower, but don’t try any moves on her. She’s got enough problems without you trying to confuse her…

Valerie:  Nah, that girl is crazy for the D, I can tell.  But she’s got a set on her…

Angelica spins on her heels quickly, letting her hair flare out behind her, resting beautifully on her shoulders as she points to the locker room area with a scowl on her face.

Angelica:  Now!  Leave me alone, both of you…

Angelica rolls her eyes as she reaches into the waist band of her shorts, pulling out her phone.  She quickly dials her phone and then places it against her ear as she paces back and forth.  A familiar voice answers on the other end.

Delia:  Yes?

Angelica:  Why didn’t you make sure I knew we were going to New York?  I’m not even packed, and I’ve been training this… useless little girl again…

There is a soft yawn on the other end as Delia seems a little tired.  Angelica’s eyes widen as she leans forward a bit, waiting for a response as if Delia could see her.  Finally, Delia sighs and rustles against the phone.

Delia:  Because we’re not going to New York today… Liz, myself, and Tessa are, right after we have lunch at Vince’s Bistro.

Angelica:  What?  Vince’s sounds so good right now. Let me change and…

Delia:  No, no, no, no, no…. what part of z’at sounded like an invitation? We’re going to be in a hurry to get to z’e airport afterward, soooo…..

Angelica scoffs yet again, as if that’s all she knows how to do anymore.  She shakes her head from side to side, letting her hair fly around as she tries to muster up a response.  Finally, one comes squeaking out.

Angelica:  Buh-buh-but… What are you saying?  I can’t come?  What the FUCK, Delia?

Delia:  Sorry bout it… I figured you would have plans wi’s Veronica since you two are z’e founders of Mean Girls and all…

Angelica:  Oh, that’s really fricken cute, Deelz… Because Veronica said that we’re the leaders, you’re going to hold some childish grudge against me?  As if you weren’t doing the same thing to her, taunting her.  There is NO leader, and we all accepted that.

Delia yawns once more as we can hear her moving around on the other end.  She seems to have lost interest in the conversation as she is busy preparing for her trip.

Delia:  Oh your jealousy is so ugly and basic, darling.  Go sit wi’s z’e Jealous Janis girls if you’re going to be like z’at.

Angelica:  Ugh! Ga-ross!  I just don’t know why you say you want us to do more stuff together, and then suddenly, you forget how to tell me when things are going on?

Delia:  Really, Angie?  I have just been so busy wi’s Liz, and showing Mercedes z’e ropes, and keeping Tessa off of z’e ledge wi’s her depression…

Angelica’s eyes lower to the ground as she clinches her jaw.  Rightfully she can’t say anything about Tessa’s condition.  She’s already been a complete bitch to her lately, and has not helped her get better.  The fact that she can’t say anything upsets her more as she stomps the ground, throwing a very visible yet silent tantrum.  She all but drops the phone as Delia lets out a long winded sigh.

Delia:  Well, since Tessa is getting cleaned up, I guess I’ll pack my own bags. I really must be going darling, kiss kiss…

Angelica:  But…

*Click!*

The phone disconnects before Angelica can object any.  She sighs and leans against the wall, dropping to a seated position.  As she is about to bury her head in her lap, Valerie comes out of the locker room, still clothed.  She goes to grab onto her duffel bag before noticing Angelica sitting on the ground.  She carries it over and drops it next to Angelica, startling her.  She rolls her eyes and sighs as Valerie takes a seat next to her on the ground.

Valerie:  What’s the matter, Angie?

Angelica:  Ummm, nothing?  Go shower, you smell…

As Angelica tries to dismiss Valerie, it only makes the girl seem even more concerned.  She forces out a laugh to try to make Angelica feel more comfortable.  She places a friendly hand on Angelica’s shoulder and then runs it up her neck to tilt her chin up.

Valerie:  I know better than that, girl… I know you a lot better than most, and I can tell that something is bothering you. What is it?

Angelica:  Tessa is her bitch!

Angelica shouts this out as she turns away from Valerie, completely shrugging her off.  Valerie sighs, allowing Angelica to have her moment.  She just sits there quietly as Angelica begins to speak in a tone that suggests that she’s hurt.

Angelica:  That’s higher ranking than me.  Whether we admit it, she is the queen, and we’re just her crew.  We’re a back drop, every one having their place.  Mercedes is the new play toy, Liz is the project set to take Delia’s throne, Veronica is the bitchy model, Holly is the drag queen, and Tessa is the bitch.  She books the flights, the hotels, plans the calendar, and everything else while I’m just left out in the cold.  I founded this group with Veronica, you know. Yet, all of these new girls are coming in and trashing it. I’m so sick of it!

Angelica finally turns back to face Valerie, a few tears streaming down her face.  She quickly wipes them away, smearing her make up slightly.  She sniffles and then pounds her fist against the ground angrily, clinching her teeth.

Angelica:  I’m the trainer, but how often do we use this shitty gym she bought?  Like never… This is the first time in months that anyone has been here.  All of these new girls are stealing the spotlight, and I’m left with like no role at all.

Tessa:  Maybe ye should try being less of a twat and we’d wanna hang out with ye more often?

Angelica glares over toward the door where Tessa is seen walking out with her hair wrapped up in a towel.  She doesn’t seem too happy hearing any of this either as she drops her gym bag on the ground.  She is half dressed in a Sex Pistol’s tank top and strategically tattered jeans.  She lets her damp blonde hair fall from the towel as she waves it around, getting the messy look she prefers.

Angelica:  You’re lucky I don’t care what you think, or else I’d show you how to really move in that ring.

Tessa:  No worries… Ye get to show me on Sunday while we’re beating Misty’s arse into the mat.  Or, I can while ye try to weasel yer way outta the match, yeah?

Tessa gives a playful wink, but Angelica doesn’t see the humor in her comments.  She pulls herself up from the floor and dusts herself off.  She scoffs and flips her hair as if it were no big deal.  She narrows her eyes at Tessa and sniffs the air.

Angelica:  I thought I told you that you smelled like shit, and could use some Veronica’s Secret perfume…

Tessa:  I would snap back at ye, but now that I know yer just jealous of me, I might be nice to ye…

Angelica:  There’s a better chance that I would kiss Misty’s ass, than being jealous of you… At least she’s accomplished something.

Tessa narrows her eyes at Angelica as she leans down, looking at her.  Her emerald eyes are on fire as she looks Angelica directly in the eye.

Tessa:  Ye got some respect for Misty?  The woman who attacked ye on Sunday?  The one who ye cracked a back over her back?  Or are ye just afraid of her cause ye could never beat her?

Angelica:  Oh fuck you!

Tessa:  Fuck me?  Fuck you, Angie!  It’s the truth, and I already know yer gonna try to throw me under the bus if we lose.  That’s why I stepped it up today.  I’m gonna keep yer streak with Misty in tact, or I’m gonna take the win and prove that yer nothing.  Now, ye can stop being a twat and help me, or move outta me way luv…

Angelica’s eyes are now also on fire as Tessa flings her hair back.  It is her time to show the world that she’s not just the Mean Girls lap dog.  But Angelica can’t seem to see things her way.  She jumps up and wraps her fingers in Tessa’s hair, swinging her from side to side as lioness roars are heard in the background.  Valerie jumps up and begins beating on her chest like a monkey as drums beat louder and louder in the background.  Both girls get move vicious until Angelica rips Tessa’s hair out, chunk by chunk until…

Music stops, and Angelica just nods her head, looking up at the angry Tessa.  Angelica smiles sweetly and nods her head.

Angelica:  Right.  No matter how we feel about one another, there’s no way we’re going to lose to Misty.  We’re going to beat her, so don’t you dare talk about anything else…

Tessa looks confused as Angelica walks over to her.  She wraps her arms around Tessa in a hug as Valerie looks completely and utterly confused.  Angelica gives Tessa a tight squeeze before looking into her eyes once more.

Angelica:  I’m sorry for calling you a gap toothed bitch… It’s not your fault you’re so gap toothed…

Tessa sticks her teeth out, running a finger across her front teeth, confused as Angelica hugs her again.  Tessa gently wraps an arm around Angelica and gives her a few lights pats as the scene cuts.
[*Fade*]

15
Climax Control Archives / Confessions of a Lady Boy Part 1
« on: June 27, 2014, 05:30:57 PM »
 
Confessions of a Lady Boy,

This one goes out to all my lady boys and girls.  How you doin’…?  Okay, so I owe a lot of people an apology for the other night. I find it very unprofessional to walk out in the middle of an act.  I didn’t mean to disappoint my fans for “Tuck It Tuesday’s” at Pandora’s Box.  I’m obviously more well known for my acts, but I do also wrestle on occasion… What you mean, “What?”  Ever heard of Mean Girls?  Not the movie, but it’s kinda like that.  Yeah, we some grown ass womens out there imitating some Hollywood style teenage girls, except it’s WAAAAYYYY more fabulous.  We are just that awesome.

Okay, so since you bitches don’t follow, let me get this out the way.  Delia Darling… oh yeah, you heard of her I see… Anyway, she is the unspoken “leader” of Mean Girls.  Well, she had some beef with this girl named Liz Smalls… You know her too?  Would you shut up already so I can tell this story?  A-NY-WAYS!  Delia and Liz had this like three week Twitter battle that got real heated, REAL quick, mmmkay?  So, they was throwing shade at each other like “Girl, your face is BUSTED!” and “Honey, you basic!”  It was cute for a minute, but then Liz was like “Well, you had a drinking problem and you fell on the runway because you was drunk, and your ex beat you.” And Delia was like “Well girl, you still got problems with nose candy and I got photographic evidence, darling…”

Uh, yeah… that got real “un-cute” real fast, hunties.  Well, they had a match and Delia won, so Liz basically became our little bitch for the foreseeable future, AKA until Delia gets bored with her.  This is where I come in.  Girl, yes I had a point to this!  Close ya lips and listen… So, I got put on babysitting duty.  I got to babysit an anorexic girl with a certain habit.  Basically, I had to make sure she stayed clean, and I took it upon myself to make her eat a damn cheeseburger while I was at it.  Honey, that was a chore.  But, you know what?  I realized something that night.  Liz Smalls is a human.  She needs guidance.  I can provide that to her.  Even if Delia wants to hate her guts, deep down, I know she feels bad for Liz too.  But, until she admits it, I will take it upon myself to be what Liz needs most… a friend.

So, that’s why I left the club the other night the way I did. I wanted to apologize to you all, and make sure that you understood.  Being someone who has my own past problems, I know what it it like to need help.  You all can continue to hate on Liz, and make your jokes, and gang up on her for being a bitch. That’s cool, I understand. But you better understand that, even though I’m a Mean Girl, I will stick up for Liz… Sorry bout it, hunties…


<img src=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v674/GXWSpikeStaggs/TransFormation_zpse3bb53af.png>




We find ourselves in a rather unusual location this afternoon.  The sun sparkles off of the crystal clear waters of the pool.  The birds are singing as they fly by.  It is your typical suburban Las Vegas summer day.  Sitting around the pool are the Mean Girls, Veronica Taylor, Tessa Flannigan, and Holly Wood.  Holly is wearing a light blue bikini, and is done up in full drag, even for the rather casual setting.  Delia and Angelica are swimming around in the pool with Electra Blaze, who is a welcomed addition to the group today.  Veronica has a pair of sunglasses perched upon her face, as does Holly.  Tessa is tapping away at her phone quickly as she is keeping up on Delia’s Twitter account for her.  Something comes up and Tessa stands up from the lounge chair, walking over to the edge of the pool to talk to Delia about it quietly.  This leaves Holly on her own as she sighs and looks over to the cameraman.

Holly:  Veronica is like sooo passed out right now.  She has a habit of doing that at the pool.  It’s like, what is the point of going swimming if you ain’t actually going to swim?

Veronica:  I’m not passed out, Holly.  It is called getting a tan…

Holly:  Well you been so quiet for the last half hour, I didn’t know…

Holly slowly pulls the sunglasses off of her face, closing them up as she sets them down on the little glass table top that is next to her lounger.  She uncrosses her legs and swings them off of the side to look toward Veronica.

Holly:  It’s cool though, girl, cause we got us a match coming up.  We get to represent Mean Girls as we go up against Team Bemma, Ben Jordan and Emma Rose.  We got us a challenge here.

Veronica:  Ummm… not really. I mean, Emma Rose is kind of ratchet, even if Delia says that she’s, like, pretty or whatever…

Holly stares at Veronica for a moment as if she had just stated the most absurd thing ever.  She blinks, letting her long lashes flutter in the wind as she tries to comprehend what she’s just heard, questioning it to the fullest.

Holly:  Girl, are you for serious right now?  That girl is a true Bombshell. She’s even got the title reign to prove it.  She’s had that belt for like over two months.

Veronica:  Yeah, only because I haven’t been given a one on one shot at her.  She has Christian Underwood protecting her.  Maybe that Gabriel guy was right…

Holly:  Okay, so I know that you guys tell me I’m the “Nice” Mean Girl, but you can’t be for real right now.  Girl is a stunner, and you can’t take that away from her.  She’s a model.

Veronica takes her turn in scoffing at this idea.  She pulls her shades off and doesn’t even take the time to fold them or set them down.  She turns her head slightly to look right at Holly.  She is waiting for Holly to signify that she is joking with a laugh or something, but she doesn’t.  Veronica rolls her eyes at Holly before putting her shades back on and leaning back in the chair.

Veronica:  I thought Delia said that we were doing the right thing by joining Hot Stuff International.  I thought we would be getting title shots and recognition, but we’re just carrying their sad little group, along with Andrew Garcia. What has anyone else done lately?

Holly:  What does that got to do with us fighting Ben Jordan and Emma Rose?  Maybe when we win, it will prove that we deserve title shots.

Veronica:  I shouldn’t have to prove it.  I proved it by signing another contract here in SCW.  I proved it by being a first class model and making people come to the shows.  We all have, and yet we get passed over for titles all the time.  This win won’t mean anything either, except that we are the best.

Holly shakes her head and holds a hand up toward Veronica.  Veronica obviously sees this through her sunglasses as she waves it off.  Holly leans back into the lounger and brings her legs back onto it.  She turns back to the camera, feeling as if she is done with the argument.

Holly:  Well, you can forgive Veronica for being a bitch, if you want… but you probably don’t.  She is just mad because she isn’t undefeated like me and Delia.  It’s okay though.  She got her win at Chaos In Cape Town, and she will get another win on Climax Control 87 as well.

Holly’s nice expression fades away a little as a smile creeps upon her face.  She even offers a playful snicker as she makes sure to keep her legs crossed so not to expose her “secrets”.  She begins rubbing tanning oil onto her skin as she talks to the camera.

Holly:  I am a nice Mean Girl, but I am still a Mean Girl.  Do I respect Ben Jordan and Emma Rose?  Yeah, I think they got skills.  Ben Jordan hasn’t exactly done much in SCW, but it usually involves a win when he steps inside of the ring.  And Emma is pretty much undefeated as far as I can tell.  They are good, and they will be a tough challenge.

Holly begins rubbing the oil onto her legs as she sets the bottle down on the table next to her.  She runs her fingers, massaging the oil into her legs softly as she looks up toward the camera.

Holly:  But, them two are so inseparable, it is almost disgusting.  They will be distracted because they will worry about playing kissy face where Veronica and I… *shudders*  no… just no.  Emma is tough, but can she keep her mind off the land down under for long enough to prepare for Veronica?  Can she pull her head out of Ben’s ass long enough to really focus?

Holly flashes another smile to the camera as she hears Veronica chuckling under her breath.  Veronica reaches over across the glass top table between her and Holly, and Holly locks hands with her friend.  However, within seconds, Holly’s mind starts to wander from Emma.

Holly:  But girl?  I have GOT to tell you that I don’t blame you.  If I had the chance to come home to Ben every night… the look in his eyes say he a freak, girl… I would be hooked on the D too.  As a matter of fact, I plan on showing respect to you by not tackling him to the mat during this match.

Holly now smiles sweetly as she sighs, imagining what that could be like.  She tries to snap herself out of it sooner, but it takes a moment for her attention to come back to the camera.  Once it does, she sticks her tongue out, panting a little.

Holly:  Anyway, like I said, I will *try* not to feel up on your man.  But, it is wrestling, and we do find ourselves in some pretty… interesting positions, right?  I mean, say Ben is behind me, his arms locked around my waist for a German Suplex, and I just instinctively grind my hips?  It ain’t no disrespect, girl.  It is just me doing what I do best.  Sorry bout it, hunty.

Holly offers a wink to Emma before looking down to her glistening legs.  She moves them slightly so that the contours of her legs shine.  Holly lets go of Veronica’s hand and looks back to the camera, as if giving Ben a tempting glance.

Holly:  Benny boy… That accent is cute.  But, don’t think I am taking this match lightly.  I plan to win. I plan to make you squirm, and I promise you will be questioning your interests by the end of this match.  It’s okay, it’s not gay if you don’t…

”WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?!?!?!?!”

Holly looks up from the camera as it swings around toward the house.  Standing in the doorway is the Sin of Wrath, Rage.  Everyone goes quiet except Electra who swims to the edge to climb out.  They talk as the camera comes back to Holly.  She blinks in confusion, and then her jaw drops in horror as she realizes what is going on.  After a second, she looks over to the camera to sign off.

Holly:  Looks like I gotta cut it short… um, I’m gonna see you two on Sunday, kay?  Best of luck, because Mean Girls don’t play nice…

Holly quickly gathers her beach towel and ties it around her waist.  She picks up her glasses and puts them on her face, and then tucks the bottle of oil under her arm as she walks off.  Delia is smiling widely as if she knew where they were all along.  Rage and Electra are screaming at each other as the Mean Girls slowly file past them uncomfortably.  Holly moans as she looks Rage up and down, grabbing a handful of his backside, winking as Rage doesn’t know how to react.  Electra is almost as stunned as the scene fades out on Holly dancing her way through the sliding door and inside of Rage’s home.

16
Climax Control Archives / Little Birdies and Monkeys
« on: May 02, 2014, 02:52:46 AM »
 
<img src=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v674/GXWSpikeStaggs/2DeliaScene1050414_zpsa70b940a.png>
”Jealousy shows itself in many forms.  Sometimes, it is the ones standing in the background, saying nasty things behind your back.  Sometimes it is the ones who smile vacantly in your face.  And sometimes, it is the ones who wish they could slap you across the face, but are too afraid.  I have met every form, and I welcome it.” –Delia, darling if you must


Tonight was a victory.  The Mean Girls had proven that they are NOT the girls to mess with.  They had taken Karina Koji and made an example of her, beating her so badly that she could not even compete in her match for the evening.  Amy Marshall would have to be taught another lesson for her participation in destroying their clothes.  They had a plan for this, but it would have to wait for another day.  They thought they had gotten through to Amy by costing her the Bombshell Roulette Championship, but this was not enough for her…

We pan in to find a large building that seems almost to be in the middle of nowhere.  The building has a round-top skyscraper attached to it.  As we move in closer, we then see Delia walking through the halls of the President’s Hotel in Yamoussoukro, Cote D’Ivoire.  She steps firmly through the brightly painted halls, making her feet click against the stone flooring.  She has a bag full of burned and tattered clothing in her hand, but she seems rather at easy, instead of being in a bad mood as she tends to be after most shows.  She is closely followed by Angelica, who is tapping away at her phone, smiling as she turns the phone for Veronica Taylor to see.  They talk indistinctly as Delia approaches their room.  She pulls out the room key and opens up the door, stepping inside.  She tosses the bag on her bed, collapsing next to it as she spreads out.  Veronica takes the chair next to the door as Angelica sits next to Delia on the bed.

Angelica:  Apparently, Alex just booked a cute little tour at a safari in the Congo. Look at these pictures.

Delia looks over and scoffs at it, rolling her eyes as she fumbles around in her bag.  She pulls out each piece of torn or burned clothing, and she shoots hoops with them slowly, tossing them next to Veronica.

Veronica:  It might be cute.  You never know.

Delia:  Wild animals are not cute.  Z’ey are smelly and carry disease!  I will not play part in somes’ing as disgusting as z’is.  I will just find somes’ing else to do, or sleep in from a night of clubs.

Angelica groans slightly as she places her index fingernail between her teeth, staring over to Veronica for help with the meltdown that is surely to come.  Delia’s eyes gaze up at Angelica, who taps away at her phone once more, pulling up Twitter.  She turns it around for Delia to see.  Delia cups the phone between her hands as she reads the screen.

Delia:  Worse?  How can anywhere be worse z’an Cote D’Ivoire?  I wasn’t aware z’at anywhere could be more boring z’an it is here!  Twitter is z’e most exciting s’ing here!

Delia shakes her head as she pulls her phone out, logging on to Twitter.  She taps away at her phone for a moment before setting it down on her chest.  She closes her eyes and moans, uncharacteristically as she rubs at her face.

Angelica:  Well, try to see the bright side.  It could be fun to visit the safari with Alex.  Tessa is even going.  We could, like… wear pink face guards, and take pictures with an orangutan…

Veronica:  We did that earlier when we beat down Karina Koji though…

Delia lifts a finger in the air, leading the other two as they make a sizzling sound with their mouths.  Veronica looks proud of herself as Delia’s phone makes a bell-like sound.  She picks it up and reads it to herself while speaking aloud.

Delia:  If we didn’t have a match z’is week, I would not even bos’er to show up… However, your boyfriend has a very nice plan.

Angelica:  What?  Let me see…

Angelica pulls up her phone again and skims through it.  Veronica seems to feel left out, so she follows suit, seeing what the other two are talking about.  She pulls out her phone, and the three begin searching through the social media site.  Angelica starts to type something before stopping and looking at Delia.

Angelica:  Wait a minute you guys… Do you think that people might think we’re losers if we’re all on Twitter at the same time?  It would totally hurt our creds…

Veronica:  Oh, yeah, totally…

Delia looks over to Angelica, staring at her for just a minute after sending a Tweet out.  She holds her phone out in her hand and blinks slowly.  She then looks over to Veronica as if she has something helpful to say.

Delia:  I spent a long time, trying to teach her z’at it does not matter what z’ese bitches s’ink of us.  If z’ey want to make fun of us for being bored on a Sunday Night in a town where z’ere is absolutely nos’ing to do… z’en it is z’ere problem, not ours.

Veronica:  Sorry Miss Party City.  But in America, a reputation means something, even if we are trapped in God’s Blind Spot right now…

Delia:  Z’at was so insensitive, Veronica…  And I love you for it!

The ladies share a bit of a chuckle as Delia’s phone goes off once more.  She picks it up, feeling as if it is her civic duty to speak for all of the Mean Girls tonight.  She scans the screen before snapping her fingers at Angelica.

Delia:  I forgot your boy toy has a jet.  He can get us out of z’is mess.  We just need a destination… S’ink, s’ink, s’ink…

Angelica:  We could go visit Paris.  I’ve never been.

Veronica:  Oooh, Rome would be beautiful this time of year.  Or, we could visit Milan!

Delia nods her head as she taps away at her phone, sending out another Tweet to the boss.  She places the phone down on her chest as she looks over to Angelica again.

Delia:  Darling, if you are going to make me relay messages to keep up appearances, z’en would you please look up hotels in Rome or Milan?  Nos’ing less z’an four stars, please…

Angelica nods her head as Delia leans up on the bed.  She grabs the last few pieces of ruined clothing, and she balls it up in her hands, making one last shot.  She celebrates with an arrogant smile as her eyes wander over to Veronica.

Delia:  I must admit z’at I did not s’ink you had what it took to be a Mean Girl anymore, Veronica.  I simply s’ough z’at you were anos’er wannabe.

Veronica:  Aww, well I love you too, bitch…

Veronica says with a snarky tone as she glares over her phone screen at Delia.  She shakes her head as Delia snickers for a moment.

Delia:  If I may finish… I was going to say z’at you have proved me wrong.  I started wrestling when I saw you, because I wanted to come in and destroy you, tear you down from z’e pedestal z’at you seem to live on.  I was working my way to you so I could take your place, because I am so much better, and more creative…

Veronica:  And you just keep warming up to me, more and more, honey… Screw you, Deelz…

Delia:  But seriously, gurrrrl… I never s’ought I would see z’e day when we would actually team up.  Even two mon’s ago, I would have laughed at such a s’ing.  However, here we are, and I could not be happier.  It is a relief.

Veronica tilts her head to the side as she looks at Delia, trying to assess if this is a joke or not.  She has never once seen Delia give an honest smile before, and the thought of it almost creeps her out.  However, just as quickly as Delia makes her sweet gesture, her stone face comes back again.

Delia:  But, I am still more fashion forward z’an you, bitch…

Veronica:  It’s two different games, sweetie.  You’re Nightmare Before Christmas…

Delia: And you are Pretty Woman, no’sing but a hooker, darling…

Angelica:  Girls!  You are supposed to be tag teaming next week, but I have a feeling there won’t be much left of either of you with all of this back biting…

Delia and Veronica laugh it off, though there is obviously a small amount of tension left between them.  Angelica turns her phone around toward Delia, showing her what she’s found.  Delia looks down at it, scrolling through the amenities as a smile creeps upon her face.

Delia:  I have had z’e proper influence on you, I see… It is perfect, darling.  Book it and let Mr. Ward know.

Angelica:  Okay, three or four rooms?  We might want to let Alex know so he can cancel his safari tour.

Delia laughs at this as she looks over to Angelica.  Angelica stares back at her quizzically as Delia takes the phone from her.

Delia:  S’ree will be fine.  You and Mark can share, and Veronica and I shall have our own.  Holly and Tessa can have fun on z’ere little safari tour, batting away mosquitoes and wombat ass bugs…

Angelica:  But, but… we’re the Mean Girls.  We don’t travel separately!

Veronica:  Hey, who are we to rob them of a disgusting, er, cultural experience?  Besides, Alex wants to do his thing, so let him do his thing.  It keeps that little Irish girl out of our hair for a little bit anyway…

Angelica looks stunned at the affront against the solidarity of Mean Girls.  Delia simply shrugs, not wishing to argue the point any further, especially now with Veronica’s support.  Delia slides the now empty duffel bag onto the ground next to her as she sighs.

Angelica:  We are like sisters, you guys!  We can’t let them do this, because they will be miserable, and it breaks the code.  It’s like the old saying, friends don’t let friends wear Louis Vuitton!

Veronica:  Ugh, five G’s… Good God Girl Get a Grip!  It’s not that serious, you know.

Delia:  Listen to her, Angie… She might not know much, but she knows z’is much at least…

Angelica stares at both ladies, almost seeming shocked by their united front.  She knew there was some tension between them, both carrying alpha bitch attitudes, so seeing them agree left her at a loss for words.  She simply taps at her phone with a look of disdain on her face as she does so.

Angelica:  Okay, the hotel rooms are booked.  I guess I will let Mark know that we are ready whenever he is.  How are we going to let Holly and Tessa know we’re going?

Delia:  I am sure z’ey will get z’e hint when z’ey see we are not on z’e plane to Congo.

Angelica:  You two are just evil… Does that mean I have to be the nice one for now?

Veronica and Delia smirk as they nod their heads at her.  Angelica rolls her eyes, pouting out her lips in frustration at this.  She sighs as she stands up from the bed, walking over to the door.

Angelica:  I will try, but I can’t promise anything.  We all know I’m not good at playing nice…

With that, she waves Veronica over toward the door.  Veronica stands up, sliding her phone back into her pocket as she joins Angelica.  The two step out, leaving Delia alone.  As the door shuts, Delia pulls off her platinum blonde wig and tosses it on the bed, her stocking cap still in place.  She stands up with a sigh and walks over to a closet where she throws several outfits onto her bed.

[*Fade*]


<img src=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v674/GXWSpikeStaggs/2DeliaScene2050414_zps30678408.png>
”One can claim that they earned everything they have.  Some will claim it modestly.  But the fact of the matter is that people do not always earn what they have.  A lot of times, it is more about who and what you know that will give you the advantage.” –Delia, darling if you must


As we start to fade into our scene, we are stumped as we hear the harmonic voices of what seems like a medieval choir.  Their voices sooth and astound all at once as if to take up to Five O’Clock Mass… or the main menu for Halo 3?  As the dark picture slowly starts to show the light, we see the wrought iron and glass ceiling that leads us to believe the first option is true.  The camera spins ever so slowly as it pans out, showing the dome ceiling.  The voices get louder as we pan out, showing the very unique designs displayed.  We then see the aged beige walls and… windows?  The voices continue to get louder as we come down to see street lights hanging from these walls.  It appears to be nothing more than your typical city street in Italy, with four buildings meeting in the center.  The only difference is that the buildings are linked together by glass ceilings, covering them as protection from the weather, as well as the large dome covering the center.  People are rushing past one another, each with their own important things to do, because they are very much better than everyone else.  They jibber jabber on their cell phones, or simply snub their nose at those who are wearing the fashions from winter.  Despite the weather still being cooler than normal for this time of year, you simply do not wear winter fashion during the spring in Milan… period!

However, Delia seems to fit in quite well as she rests on a bench in the center of the Quad.  She is wearing a sheer white floral print dress with a nude top underneath, and a black belt to synch the waist, and matching black strap heels, with her platinum blonde hair falling down behind her shoulders.  She has warm biscotti in her hand, nibbling at the flaky pastry stick gingerly.  Angelica walks up with “Hot Stuff” Mark Ward.  The couple seems rather cozy.  Angelica is wearing a white dress as well, however, she has a very slimming black corset on the outside with a design to it that straps up the shoulders, and black close toed heels.  Mark is wearing a red polo and jeans, which nearly causes Delia to choke on her food.  The two approach Delia with a smile, while Delia turns her head, acting as if she doesn’t know them.

Angelica:  Deelz, this place is amazing and I haven’t even stepped foot inside of a shop yet… Delia?

Delia rubs at her face, as she keeps her head turned to the side.  Angelica sits down on the bench next to Delia, questioning her silently as she looks over to her.  Delia takes another bite of biscotti, while speaking through her teeth.

Delia:  You ret ‘im reave rooking rike zzz’at?

Angelica:  Girl, no one can understand you when you talk with your mouth full…

Delia chews her food, quickly swallowing it.  She turns to face Mark and Angelica as they stand there.  She smiles sweetly as she slowly moves her eyes back and forth between them so to address them both directly.

Delia:  I said… and I quote it slowly for you, darling… “You let him leave looking like z’at?”  Referring to z’e awful choice in clos’ing z’at I most certainly hope you did not pick out for him.  I don’t know who to smack first… Coming to z’e fashion capital of Italy and z’e world looking a fuuuucking mess…

Mark:  Well, it’s nice to meet you too, lady…  Don’t flip ya wig, and I do mean that literally.

Delia gives a sarcastic smile, quickly turning it into a look of disgust at Mark’s statement.  Angelica’s jaw hangs open in surprise at Delia’s uncouth statement.  She even grunts in frustration before giving Delia a quick shove to the side.

Angelica:  Rude much?  We can’t have a man upstaging our looks, anyway.

Delia:  I am very confident z’at z’is will nt be z’e case today.  I just hope I can show my face in z’e fashion world ever again after today…

A couple ladies laugh and point in the background as Delia sinks her head down in embarrassment.  Mark seems to enjoy making Delia writhe in this uncomfortable situation before finally speaking.

Mark:  If I’m such a bloody embarrassment, then why don’t ya play Ken Doll and dress me up for the day?  I wouldn’t mind.  When if Ro… er… Milan.

“Hot Stuff” smirks as Delia groans at the thought.  Angelica stares a hole through Delia as she stands up from the bench.  Angelica pulls the biscotti from her hand and yanks Delia up from the bench.

Angelica:  This is going to go straight to your ass!

Angelica takes a large bite from it, savoring it in front of Delia before dropping the last half of it into the nearby trashcan.  Angelica has a lingering satisfactory expression on her face from the biscotti, but she continues to drag Delia along.

Delia:  You are aware z’at I have two careers, and z’is could very well ruin my fashion credibility, right?

Angelica:  What did you tell me the other day?  Credibility only matters if you are a basic bitch!  Get over it, and let’s go meet Veronica.  Maybe we could use her input on Mark’s new outfit?

Delia makes a gagging face as she walks along with Angelica.  Suddenly, a smirk comes over her face.  She leans in and whispers to Angelica who seems surprised at whatever request had just come her way.  She stops, seeming to nearly jerk Mark’s arm out of socket in the process.  The two stare at one another, having a silent conversation amongst one another, showing various tense facial expressions.

Mark  You two gonna kiss?  Save it for the show at least.

Delia tucks a piece of hair behind her ear as her face turns to a smile.  Angelica growls and crosses her arms over her chest with a mean look on her face.  Delia gives sweet and pouty eyes to Angelica, which causes her to roll her eyes and look over to Mark.

Angelica:  Ughhhh… Fine!

Delia smiles and gives an excited bounce as she comes over to Mark.  She places her hands on Mark’s broad shoulder, slowly ushering him along and away from Angelica.  He looks to Angelica questioning silently as Angelica shrugs her shoulders, practically stomping off in a fit.

Delia:  I assume you are at least a label kind of guy, no?  Wi’s z’at kind of fuck me money, you must be.

Mark:  As long as I like how it looks, then there isn’t a problem where it comes from.

Delia:  Women wear designs z’at capture attention, because we want to speak about who made it.  Men don’t care to speak fashion, so z’ey wear clear brands to say “I’m fashionable but don’t talk to me…”

Mark shrugs his shoulders as he chuckles, moving along with Delia.  She wastes no time bringing Mark to the Versace boutique, pushing the door open.  As they walk inside, the soft beat of euro electro pop plays lightly in the background.  The first thing that they are smacked in the face with is a rack of furs, one of which looks as if it were second hand from Cruella DeVille.  Mark looks rather unimpressed by this, but Delia pushes him along to the Men’s department.  He looks around at some of the clothing options and he laughs at her, leaning against one of the mahogany shelving unites on the wall.

Mark:  If ya think I’m gonna slide my beefy arse into some of those skinny leg huggers they call pants, you better start considering hanging your head in shame for the rest of the day.  No room for my bollocks in there.

Delia:  Pfffft!  I know you are not Spike Staggs.  Who are we kidding?

The two share a small laugh, but it is enough to convince themselves that this might not be as difficult of an afternoon as they might have thought. Delia begins scanning the racks, flipping through outfits with her keen eye, meanwhile speaking.

Delia:  It is, after all, one s’ing z’at we can agree on.  He is a sniveling man brat who only wishes he was half the man you are.  Down to his very group of associates, even.

Mark:  People expect me to be bitter about it.  But, I just have to sit back and look at the facts.  I started a group like NXT about seven years before he did.  He was part of it.  I had more World Championship reigns than him.  I can’t blame him for standing in the shadows of things I’ve done many times over. Can’t blame the arsehole for wanting to be me.

Delia:  I see them on Twitter, and it takes everys’ing wis’in me not to respond wi’s laughter.  It is amusing when z’e talentless call me, of all people, talentless.

Mark blinks as if he is confused by her statement, when he knows very well what she is talking about.  He shakes his head in dismay as he looks over to see her still moving through the clothes on the racks.

Mark:  I give it mere months before you own the Bombshell Division.  And everyone knows it.  That is why they are spreading rumors on your.

Delia:  You s’ink it will take me z’at long?  Such a shame…

She offers him a playful wink as she comes back around the rack, waving it off as a waste of time.  She moves along to the next display, scoffing at it before wondering over to the mannequins against the wall.

Mark:  Well, we’ll see how you and Veronica do against Electra and Cindy this week. Maybe I will change my tune.

Delia:  Just let me at Vixen or Roxi next week, and I will prove I am better z’an z’e bo’s of z’em.

Mark:  I couldn’t do that… I would be accused of favoritism if you got your shot before Brandi did…

Delia scoffs and places a hand in Mark’s face, though it seems more playful than malicious this time.  She studies a particular suit, admiring the aesthetic for a moment before speaking again.

Delia:  I am better z’an z’at cow.  I am better z’an any basic you s’row in my way.  Give me Cindy Warren and I will send z’e Nurse to z’e hospital… Try to shock me wi’s Electra, and I will show you a dud.  Roxi and Vixen are too wrapped up in men, z’ey wouldn’t even notice if I took z’e belt from z’em.

Delia finally gives the outfit a nod as Mark seems unsure.  She waves over one of the storekeepers, pointing to the outfit.  The man smiles politely as he comes over.  Without even giving him a chance to speak, she heads him off.

Delia:  Vogliamo provare questo, grazi.

Shop Keep:  Subito, signora.

Delia nods as he surveys Mark’s size and walks to the back to retrieve the outfit of choice.  Within seconds of his departure, Delia looks back over to Mark with a devious smirk on her face, even going as far as to crinkle her nose.

Delia:  And since when do you care about playing favorites?  Say it however you will, but don’t try to bullshit z’e bullshitter, Mr. Ward.  Sean Jackson gets handed z’e ACW Championship, literally handed.  Drew gets a shot at z’e Roulette Championship.  Mou’spiece Max and Duke get to run amuck over SCW wi’s no consequence…

Mark:  First off, YOU run amuck over the bombshells, and even escaped being fired for attacking an interviewer.

Delia wants to argue this point, but instead she simply smiles, nodding her head with a slight giggle of pride.  Mark snickers under his breath as well.

Delia:  I guess we are bo’s guilty in zi’s way, are we not?

Mark:  You’re only guilty of something if you get caught.  I admit to nothing here.  You know, I always thought you were just a rotten bitch who inconveniently cock blocked me every day between Sunday and Saturday… but you aren’t all that bad to be around.

Delia:  Z’at is z’e nicest s’ing I’ve heard from anyone outside of Mean Girls, so I will choose to take it as a compliment.

The shopkeeper calls over to Mark, breaking up their “moment”.  Mark follows the man over to the dressing rooms.  Delia walks with him as they make their way to the large room partitioned off with curtains, brightly lit with mirrors reflecting from several angles.  Delia turns her head as the shop keep pulls a curtain in front of Mark.  She waits for a moment in silence before a thought crosses her mind.

Delia:  You know…  I have been trying to play nice wi’s Erik Staggs, trying to work my way up z’e Bombshell ladder.  I s’ink I have proved I am not to be messed wi’s.  Mean Girls are not to be messed wi’s.  Yet, all I got was a face full of his ass in return.

Mark:  Yeah.  If I’m honest, I can’t stand that old imp.  He’s a real tosser, but he brings support, or money, from a certain fan base, small as they might be.  It is what happens when you align yourself with someone like him.

Mark goes quiet behind the curtains as Delia thinks it over.  She shakes it off with a sigh as she leans against the door frame, taking in the silence for a moment longer.  Mark interrupts the silence as he is heard struggling with something for a second before speaking.

Mark:  That’s why you should reconsider who you align yourself with.  Some people might be more beneficial to your career than others.  There is a force in SCW that will be unstoppable, and it would be a good idea to look into it.

Delia looks caught off guard by this statement.  She doesn’t exactly know how to respond right away as she fumbles with her belt for a moment.

Delia:  I s’ink we should consider ourselves to be z’e unstoppable force in z’e Bombshell Division… alone.  We are Mean Girls, and we don’t play well wi’s os’ers.  I’m sure you understand

Mark:  I understand, but I can’t be held accountable for what might happen to you guys if you were to, say… get in the way.

Delia:  I assure you, we can handle ourselves just fine, Mr. Ward, but s’ank you for your concerns…

With that, Mark opens the curtain to reveal a black dress shirt, covered by a black dress jacket, sporting what appears to be cargo pockets on the front with golden buttons.  The pants seem to be a little more fitted to Mark’s Adonis frame, with matching cargo pockets on the legs.  It seems to go well with the shoes that he is already wearing.  Delia looks at the shirt that sports silver pin stripes.  She brings the collar of the shirt over the outside of the jacket, loosening the tie just slightly.  She ruffles Mark’s hair quickly and then gives a nod of approval.

Delia: Très magnifique!

Delia turns him around to see his reflection in the mirror on the wall.  He rubs his chin as he admires his reflection, tilting his head back to get a good view of himself.  He smirks and nods his head as he looks over to Delia.

Delia:  Just be careful, because Angelica might have to drag you back to the hotel room if she sees you like z’is…

Mark:  Not that I haven’t loved this little meeting, but that only makes me want to go track her down, and quickly.

Delia snickers as Mark pulls his wallet from the jeans he’s holding in his hand.  Delia stops it, and reaches into her white clutch purse.  She pulls out a card and hands it to the shopkeeper.  He takes it with a smile as Delia slowly follows him.  Mark looks confused.

Delia:  Consider it to be a gift of my appreciation… for z’e flight, and… any os’er ways you might be able to make my life a little easier in Sin City Wrestling…  Just promise me you will leave z’e rags sitting in here?

Delia smirks as she disappears from the dressing room.  Mark mulls this over for a moment in his head before pulling his wallet and keys from the jeans, dropping them directly on the ground.  He follows Delia out of the room as the lights slowly wane.
[*Fade*]


<img src=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v674/GXWSpikeStaggs/000BurnBook_zps09700b09.png>

”Beauty is on the outside.  We face our inner monsters far too often to ever consider our insides to be beautiful.  Anyone who says it is simply lying.” –Delia, darling if you must


The marble columns inside of the Hotel Brunelleschi in Milan glow with each strike of lightening that radiates in the sky.  The lobby of the hotel, with its black and white checkered flooring echoes the clicking of high heels.  It can only be assumed that these heels belong to a very elite set of women.  Veronica Taylor, Angelica, and Delia walk through the lobby from the elevators, and none of them look pleased.  Their attitudes almost seem more disgusting than the horrible weather outside.  Delia is wearing a black and white horizontal striped business suit, large, dark sunglasses, and an almost oversized sun hat that is black and white striped as well, displaying black hair with blonde bangs.  Angelica’s hair is tied back as she sports a radiant orchid sun dress and sparkling silver heels.  Veronica is wearing a fitted pantone skirt that goes to her knees, and a white blouse ruffled in the front.  Delia sits down on one of the benches near the plants to their left, as another flash of lightening crashing in the distance.

Delia:  I can’t believe it.  I simply can NOT believe z’is is happening!  We’re in Milan, a city full of z’e most beautiful parks in Europe, and we cannot even visit z’em!

Angelica:  Honey, it’s okay.  Maybe tomorrow we can…

Delia:  Do you idiots even check z’e weas’er reports?  Rain, rain, lightening, clouds, shitty fucking weas’er until z’e day we depart for z’e Congo!

Delia rattles off in an irritated tone at Angelica who simply holds her hands up in surrender.  Veronica snickers in the background as she leans against one of the marble columns.  She leans away, noticing it is a little more dusty than she would like, looking disgusted as she wipes a finger against it.

Delia:  I can’t believe it, Angie…  I wanted to rub it in everyone’s face z’at we escaped z’at fils’y, disgusting place for a beautiful eutopia.  But instead, we are stuck inside of z’is *air quotes* Four Star hotel…

Angelica:  Well… it could be worse?

Delia chuckles sarcastically, tilting her head back to emphasize it.  After a second of this, she turns her attention back over to Angelica, tilting her head to the side to stare at her through her cold and calculating shades.

Delia:  Oh, it can?  It can?!  Why don’t you tell me how it could be any worse z’an z’is?  I’m listening…

Meanwhile…

We come in to see a cloudy sky over the Lola La Bonobo reservation for primates.  Off in the distance, lightening strikes, as if perhaps coming from Milan itself.  A faint rumble is heard moments later as we scan across the grassy area.  We find Alex Jeffries, AKA Holly Wood, and Tessa Flannigan standing near the edge of the trees, batting away at mosquitoes.  A woman with thin braids, dressed in a camouflaged tank top and matching cargo shorts walks up to them with a monkey gently caressed against her chest.  She smiles sweetly as she looks between the two.

Guide:  I would like you to meet Asali.  She is of two years old…

Tessa leans over to Alex, nudging him against the side as she whispers through clinched teeth.

Tessa:  Ye know yer gonna pay for this later, right?

Alex:  Oh come on, gurl, it ain’t that bad…

As if right on cue, as the guide speaks indistinctly, Asali climbs down and approaches Alex and Tessa with a sweet look upon her face.  She leans down on the ground just a few feet away from them as Alex gasps at the cuteness of her.  He leans down and begins to call to her as she scratches her belly.

Guide:  Sir, it is not wise to stoop to their level because…

*SPLAT!*

We look over to see Alex with some sort of brown matter dripping from his face, his eyes clinched closed as Tessa laughs and points at him.

Guide: … it can be seen as a sign of weakness to be below them…

Alex slowly nods his head as Tessa trips, falling face first into a pile all on her own…

Back to you, Deelz!

Delia continues to stare at Angelica as she waits for an answer.  Angelica simply shrugs her shoulders as if she can’t come up with a reasonable explanation.  Delia looks satisfied with this as she turns back and begins pouting.

Veronica:  You act like it isn’t a miracle we were lucky enough to get out of that place to begin with.  I mean, at least we got to shop the Quad instead of one of those dusty, dirty African markets…

Delia:  But how will we rub it in z’ere faces?  Hm?

Veronica:  Uhhh duh… We show up without all of those mosquito bites, looking rested and relaxed instead of worrying if some primitive bird will swoop us up in our sleep from our paper shacks?

Delia doesn’t seem amused by Veronica’s answer as she lifts her glasses up, strictly so Veronica can see her blinking slowly at her.  Delia finally rolls her eyes as she leans back on the bench.

Delia:  I suppose you are right…  I mean, it has been wonderful being away from z’is tour, enjoying z’e beautiful sights of Milan.  I just wish I could have shown you z’e beauty side of it here.

Angelica:  See?  That’s a bright side.  We’re back in a society rather than around a bunch of starving children to make us feel sad…

Veronica:  I know, right?  It makes me want to adopt one or seven of them like Angelica and Brad.

Angelica:  Ugh, totes!

Delia shakes her head at their almost airheaded remarks.  She leans down into her black and white striped hand bag and she pulls out the Burn Book, placing it on her lap.  She looks over to the two ladies, and then to the camera, acknowledging it for the first time.

Delia:  Since our day is ruined, we might as well read some bitches.  It always makes me feel better to just let it out.

Angelica:  You want to do that in the lobby?  We have more room in our rooms upstairs…

Veronica:  Why not here?  We’ve been stuck in those rooms all day today.

Delia nods her head.  She pulls out a couple of photos of the gorgeous blonde bombshells known as “The Nurse” Cindy Warren and Electra Styles.  She holds them in between her fingers as she stares at both of them.  A smile crosses her face as she shuffles the photos quickly, holding them out with their backs toward Veronica.

Delia:  Pick z’e first victim, darling…

Veronica thinks it over, hovering her fingers over one of the photos before moving to the other.  She bites her lip nervously before finally lifting one away from the other.  Delia smirks as she turns the photo around for her to see it, while running a purple glue stick over it.  She then presses it onto the next blank page of the book, running her finger around the edges.  She then pulls out the pink sharpie and writes on the photo.

<img src=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v674/GXWSpikeStaggs/ElectraStylesBurnBook_zps4cbc8bdb.png>


Delia:  First up, we have Electra Styles.  Interesting as she is z’e only one who seems to have any fire in her.  She wanted to start a little Twitter war wi’s us, but we don’t waste our time wi’s nobodies who have not yet proven z’emselves here.  Why should we?  We’re z’e Mean Girls, and we have better s’ings to do.

Veronica:  Ugh, totally.  We played nice for a minute, acting like we cared, but then she couldn’t get the hint.  She’s lucky we even realized who she was to begin with…

Delia nods her head in agreement.  She thinks it over for a second before placing the pen to the notebook.  She quickly scribbles down something out of view of the camera, before scratching the pen against the page with two harsh strikes.  As she lowers the book, we see two lines underneath the word “Homely”.

Veronica:  “Homely”?  Seriously?  That’s what you have to say about her?

Delia:  Now, now, darling… hear me out.  Electra Styles has beauty.  It is just buried under z’ose wretched rags she calls clo’es.  In a business where you stand out for one reason or anos’er, being homely is one of z’e worst s’ings one can be.  If she were to leave now, no one would remember her.  It’s simply dreadful…

Angelica:  I see what you mean.  If we were to stay here in Milan and refuse to return to the tour, people would remember us because we are so pretty and popular, right?

Delia nods her head slowly with a smile on her face.  Veronica slowly starts to comprehend it, though she still doesn’t seem to be thrilled with the lackluster choice of insult.  Delia folds her hands in the center of the book as she looks back to Veronica.

Delia:  It is understandable.  I mean, she could very well stand out more, but it seems z’e years of playing mommy has caught up to z’is one.  She lost her spark.  Her shine is gone.  Z’e only s’ing she has to speak of is… defeating you, Veronica.  And outlasting you in z’e Battle Royal two weeks ago.

Veronica:  Ha ha, very funny bitch…

Delia:  Well, you already know she is going to talk about it, so why not beat her to z’e punch?  It stings less when a friend speaks z’e tru’s, no?

Veronica:  We’ll see how you like it then…

Delia stares at Veronica, snapping her fingers before turning her head to purposely ignore her.  She holds one hand up at Veronica as she continues.

Delia:  You got lucky, Electra.  Veronica has not gotten used to being back in z’e six sided ring.  Z’is match will be z’e one where she gets it all back.  And wi’s me as her partner, you definitely stand no chance, by looking at your partner for z’e week.  Good as you might be, you can’t carry her weight on your shoulders too, darling…

Delia smirks as she unscrews the cap to the purple glue stick once more.  She runs it over the back of Cynthia’s picture slowly, to make sure to cover it properly.  Once she does, she slaps the picture on the empty page next to Electra’s page.  She scribbles Cindy’s name on the picture in cute lettering.

<img src=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v674/GXWSpikeStaggs/CindyBurnBook_zps05a49638.png>


Veronica:  At least come up with something interesting for this one please?  She’s almost as homely as Electra, and even more forgettable too, so it might be tough.

Delia:  Yes, it is very tough.  At least Electra has a victory to her name.  And she came close to winning z’e Battle Royal two weeks ago.  You even outlasted her in z’at match.  What can we even say about her z’at leaves a lasting impression, because she doesn’t!

Angelica:  Oooh!  You could talk about how she’s, like… ummm… just one of the backstage staff who thinks they can cut it in the ring?  Since she’s like the nurse and stuff?

Delia:  Darling, I s’ink z’at is just her lame gimmick.  Sounding like a more productive member of society is all she has to cling too, I’m afraid…  Z’ere simply is nos’ing else to her…

Delia sets the book down flat on her lap, with her hand resting comfortably on the page with Cindy’s picture.  She waits a moment while Angelica lets it settle in.  Veronica nods her head as she steps over toward Delia, sitting down on the bench next to her.

Veronica:  It makes me mad that we have to face her.  I’ve already faced her twice.  What more do I need to prove?  It’s like they don’t want us to move forward in this company.

Delia:  Z’at is obvious, darling.  But no matter how hard z’ey try, z’ey will never hold us back.  If z’ey want to s’row us weak opponents, z’en we will just move over z’em same as anyone else.  When we win more and more, z’en z’ey will have no choice but to take us seriously.

Veronica:  I guess so…

Delia nods her head in reassurance.  Veronica shrugs her shoulders as she looks away from the book, obviously over it now.  Angelica pats Delia’s arm to reassure her at the same time.

Delia:  It is okay…  Neis’er one of us has been defeated since your return and my debut.  We have not been pinned, or tapped out.  Cindy has been pinned, by her partner.  Electra has embarrassed her partner, so z’is begs z’e question… Can Electra trust her?  If I were her, I would keep an eye on Cindy at all times, because I’m sure she will be looking for revenge.  Or, even just a way to try to make an impression.  Who can blame her?

Angelica:  That is a good point.  I mean, when someone is so basic, it doesn’t leave them much choice.

Delia:  Listen ladies… Electra?  Cindy?  We will not be taking it easy on you because we want z’e momentum going into z’e African Supercard wi’s a win to our names.  We plan to beat your asses and prove why we are z’e dominant Bombshells in Sin City Wrestling.

Delia finally pens a message next to Cindy’s name.  She writes “Forgettable…”  She turns it around for the camera to zoom in on, reassuring us of the message.  The camera zooms back out to show Delia, Angelica, and Veronica on the bench.  Delia smiles as she looks directly into the camera.

Delia:  Expect us to walk out of z’ere on top, because we are z’e Mean Girls, and Mean Girls always win…  It is nos’ing personal. It is business as usual for us.  We just don’t waste time on listening to basics.  But, just know z’is…  We don’t hate you because you are basics… You are basics because we hate you.

With that, Delia closes the book carefully, so not to disturb the photos.  The Mean Girls look over to the door to see that the weather has let up some outside.  They look back to the camera, gently waving in a faux sweet manner as we fade out to black.
[*Fade*]

17
Climax Control Archives / Trans-Formation (Holly RP)
« on: April 11, 2014, 10:17:01 PM »
 *Blackness*

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The screeching noise echoes through the hallways, sounding of an angry cat PMS-ing.  It continues on for what seems like forever within the blackness.  Underneath it is the tone of several footsteps and murmuring voices.  The screaming finally stops a few seconds after water is heard running.  We fade inside of a locker room to find Holly Wood, Angelica, Veronica Taylor, and Tessa Flannigan all standing outside of the shower area.  They look at each other in a worried fashion, trying to find the right words to help Delia feel better after what she had just gone through earlier in the night.  Losing the Blast From the Past Tournament, and having her face practically shoved up Erik Staggs’ ass.  Somehow, nothing seems to come to mind as far as words of inspiration.

Holly:  I know this might sound inappropriate to bring up, but did anyone else think her face smelled like hemorrhoid cream and old man balls?

Delia:  SHUT UP HOLLY!!!

Holly holds her hands up in surrender, even though Delia can’t see her.  She mutters under her breath, hoping that Delia can’t hear her.

Holly:  … thought you was hidin’ beauty secrets from us, but I guess that’s just old man booty stank she tryin’ to hide…

Angelica:  Oh em gee, bitch…  Can’t you see she’s in the middle of a melt down?  She needs our support…

Angelica does her best to whisper as Holly rolls her eyes.  Holly shrugs her shoulders and steps away from the shower area.  She walks up to the foggy mirror, quickly wiping away at it with her gloved hand.  She removes the glove from her hand as she starts to disassemble her feminine look, starting by pulling off the fake eyelashes.  Tessa comes over to stand by her in a small show of support.

Tessa:  Congratulations on yer signing, luv.  I know yer going to do great.

Holly:  Thanks, gurl… I just feel like we spend so much time focusing on that glory hog that the rest of us are just supposed to fall into the background.  Let me make you a promise though…

Tessa nods her head as Alex sets his wig down on the counter next to his lashes.  He pulls out his small breast plate as the stocking cap clings to his head, turning to face Tessa as if conflicted by her mere presence.

Alex:  As long as I am more than just a model for her handmade clothing… as long as I am showcasing my wrestling skills, I will not stand in the background while she throws temper tantrums.  The rest of you can eat her shit up, but I’m gonna go out there and do my own thing.

Tessa:  And THAT’S the way ye should be, Alex.  Ye have to step out of the shadows and make yer own impression on SCW.

Alex pulls a cloth out of his handbag, stroking his face with it, wiping away the extreme amount of make up he is wearing to be Holly.  He breathes heavily as he makes a slow transition.

Tessa:  Just promise me one thing, luv… Promise me that ye won’t get mad at her for doing the same thing.  She has her way, and ye got yers.

Alex:  I know you’re right.  I need to stop letting her fits bother me, and just do my own thing.  I need to show the fans that I am fierce in my own way.

Tessa nods her head as Alex finishes removing the make up from his face, pulling the netting off of his head.  He brushes his hair with his fingers, keeping it slicked back.  He suddenly begins to smile.

Alex:  It’s a damn shame that, just because she couldn’t have her moment, she wants to rain on mine.  Well, I’m gonna go hit up the clubs, and enjoy myself.  Anyone who wants to join me, feel free, but leave the shitty attitude at the door.

With that, Alex turns around from the mirror with a little bounce of the hip for emphasis.  He looks at Tessa who seems ready to join him.  His eyes rest on Angelica and Veronica as he waits to see their reaction.  Veronica walks over to join Alex and Tessa as Angelica looks apologetically in their direction.  Alex simply shrugs his shoulders and snatches up his duffel bag as he exits the locker room as we fade.


<img src=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v674/GXWSpikeStaggs/TransFormation_zpse3bb53af.png>



After many strange eyes resting on Holly at the airport, she was ready to just collapse into her bed and hide from the city until Sunday for Climax Control.  She had taken a later flight to Morocco than the rest of the Mean Girls, so she could have time to herself to clear her head.  She carries her bag up to the cab, wanting nothing more than to just close her eyes and drift away for about four more days.  The driver places her bags in the trunk as she flops into the back seat, resting her head against the window, sighing.  Her breaths seem to fog up the window, blocking her view of the rather gorgeous city, but it was no bother to her.  This wasn’t the typical destination for a Lady Boy such as herself.  All she could do is think to herself that arriving in drag was not such a great idea.  Though, there was definitely no hiding the flame, so it probably didn’t mean as much.  After all, Delia had told her that this was her favorite vacation spot, and that the hotel was brilliant.  Somehow, as Holly drifted off into a daydream fog, it didn’t seem to matter.  Being gay in Morocco was illegal, and this was something that would be a real drag… No sex for six weeks?!  Panic ensues as the realization smacks Holly straight across the face.  She immediately wakes up in a sweat, looking out of the window.  Palm trees as far as the eye could see… sparkling blue waters off in the horizon, surrounded by white umbrellas and sun chairs.  This looked more like a tropical island resort than a hotel.  

Holly:  Excuse me, but I needed to go to La Mamounia Hotel?

Driver:  Where you think you go?

He looks back at Holly through the rear view mirror and chuckles as he shakes his head.  Holly runs her fingers through her hair, brushing it back as she watches the view which only seems to get nicer and nicer.  The beige building has a very Arabic feel to it for obvious reasons, though there are other influences as well.  It was a pleasant treat for the eyes.

Holly:  I shoulda known… that girl always do travel in style…

The cab pulls up to the front of the hotel, stopping in front of two white marble columns.  Holly just stares, taking it all in for a moment.  The driver gets out and walks to the back to open the door for her.  He goes around to the trunk to get her bags as Holly slowly exits the cab.  She just looks around at the courtyard before taking her bags in her arms.  One around the neck, and two in each hand.  What?  That’s light for a drag queen!  Holly carries them to the door where two men in white salwar kameez open the doors as Holly walks inside, staying off their attempts to help with the bags.  Once she walks into the lobby, she practically drops the bags and looks around at the marble walls, and all of the elegant fixtures, gasping.

Holly:  Oh NO she betta don’t!  Are you serious?

Holly picks the bags off of the ground and lugs them over to the rather meek looking desk to the left.  Within moments of standing at the desk, a guest services representative comes up to the desk with a smile plastered on her face.

Rep:  Welcome to La Mamounia Hotel, how may I help you?

Holly:  Yeah, I’m checking in.  Name is Alex Jeffries…

The rep scans through the computer in front of her quickly, her fingers flying as she types in the information.  She squints her eyes and then shakes her head, trying it once more, groaning slowly as she doesn’t get the results she was hoping for.

Rep:  No, I am sorry, z’ere is no registry for z’is name.  Perhaps I can see some identification?

Holly reaches into the pouch of the bag hanging around her neck and pulls out her passport.  She slides it onto the desk for the rep to see.  As the rep opens it, she looks confused and then bites onto her lip.  She types in a few simple commands and then forces the smile back onto her face, sliding the passport back across the counter.

Rep:  Z’ere we are.  Let me get you z’e room key…

She turns around and pulls out a small card, sliding it through the computer before handing it over to Holly.

Rep:  Please, enjoy your stay, monsieur… or, madam…

Holly looks at the rep for a moment, a vacant sort of smile on her face as she simply blinks.  After a moment of letting it sink in, Holly giggles politely at the woman’s blunder and begins placing the passport and room key back into her bag.

Holly:  Oh, “crossdressing faggot” is fine by me, honey…  Enjoy your day!

Holly waves her fingers as her smile turns into annoyance.  She rolls her eyes and picks up her bags as she walks over toward the elevator.  No sooner than she presses the button does the door open up, Delia standing there with a strange sort of smile on her face.  Next to her is Pussy Willow.

Delia:  See, I told you she was just fashionably late, darling!  Holly, where have you been?

Holly:  Ummm… what?

Delia:  We set up a wonderful spread by z’e pool for you to conduct your interview wi’s Pussy Willow.  Pastries, wine, and…

Holly rolls her eyes and places the bags inside of the elevator.  A man standing behind Delia grabs them as Delia runs Holly back from the elevator to whisper something to her.

Delia:  We must keep up appearances, darling.  If you want to be taken seriously by z’e fans, you must show z’em z’at we are like-minded.  It will be wonderful…

Holly:  No, it would be you with a dick, Deelz!  I thought I made it clear two weeks ago that I was not about to flatter you by turning into a copy of you.  We have our own styles of doing things, and I will not go out there and do some snarky interview at a brunch table, or fill up some air time with scenes at a gay club to prove that I’m so fucking modern!

Delia looks caught completely off guard as Holly turns to Pussy Willow.  Holly grabs her by the wrist and drags her along through the lobby as Delia tries to quiet down the commotion, waving it off at the concierge with a pleasant smile.  Holly brings Pussy to the center of the lobby in the best lighting possible.

Holly:  Holly don’t pad with fancy food and fancy sights.  Holly pads with foam, mmmkay?

Holly grabs onto her hips with her hands and shakes them up and down before moving up to the breast plate, doing the same.  Delia gasps as Holly holds her finger up, signaling for her to be quiet.

Holly:  So this is what we’re gonna do, Pussy Willow… You’re going to tell that man with the camera over there to come over here, and turn it on.  Then, we can do this thing.

Pussy:[/.b]  It is running.

Holly:  Kay then.  Let’s do this, mama…

Pussy looks at Delia as if asking for her permission.  Delia looks almost horrified and shrugs her shoulders, pointing back to Holly.  The camera man hands Pussy a microphone, giving her a soft countdown to compose herself.  5, 4, 3, 2, 1…

Pussy:  Hello SCW fans, this is Pussy Willow, and I am standing by with one of Sin City Wrestling’s latest signees, Holly Wood!

Holly:  Mz. Wood if you nasty…

Holly leans down into the microphone for a moment as she pays homage to Miss Jackson for a moment.  Pussy giggles nervously for a second before getting herself together.  She straightens her posture and then looks back to Holly.

Pussy:  You definitely made your impression at Blaze of Glory III, but we are being treated to something extra special as you make your in-ring debut this week against Connor Murphy.  Now, if I understand correctly, this will be your first match ever?

Holly:  That’s right.  I spent a lot of time training over the last couple of years, but have not yet debuted in the wrestling world.  This is going to be fun.

Pussy:  What are your predictions for this match?  Is there anything you hope to accomplish?

Holly smirks as she looks at Pussy Willow, almost as if she has just asked the dumbest question possible.

Holly:  Gurrrl… I want to win this match, obvi’s.  I want to go out there and put on a great show with Connor.  Besides, he’s kinda cute, don’t you think?

Pussy shrugs her shoulders nervously as if she did not feel it was professional to comment on such a matter.  She smiles politely and nods as a gesture to get Holly to continue.

Holly:  I mean, I’m a flirt.  It is something that I cannot change.  Not that I want to change that, because it can even be used as a weapon.  What man can resist a flirt after all?

Pussy:  Yes, but… it is no secret that you are only female as a stage persona. Some men might find it a little less endearing than you think…

Holly:  Awe shucks… A beautiful girl like me, getting physical with these guys… they won’t even know the difference.  And I plan to use that to my advantage for sure.

Pussy nods her head as she looks back at Holly.  She still seems a little unsure about Holly’s claims, but she continues one.

Pussy:  Well, this match promises to be one to watch out for.  Do you have any last words you would like to say to Connor?

Holly:  All I gotta say is that you better be ready.  I spent a lot of time training for this moment, and I refuse to just lay down for you to get an easy win… at least, not in the ring anyway.

Holly winks at the camera, pausing for only a split second.

Holly:  I might seem like a nice girl.  I’ve been called the nicest of the Mean Girls, but that don’t say much, Connor. I will win by any means necessary.  Not that cheating is necessarily my style, but mind games are.

Pussy:  You don’t cheat?  We’ve seen you do it many times over the last month to help Delia win…

Holly:  There’s a difference.  That’s for Delia.  No offense to my girl, but her style is very limited.  I’ve been training for two years, and I know what I’m doing in that ring.  Let’s just hope that Connor does too.  Who knows, maybe we’ll put on a show the audience won’t EVER forget…

With that, Holly waves to the camera sweetly as she slowly steps away.  She doesn’t even allow the reporter to sign off before disappearing.  Pussy watches as Holly disappears before looking to the camera.

Pussy:  There you have it folks. Tune in to Climax Control as we stream live from Marrakech, Morocco on Sunday, April 13th.  This is Pussy Willow, signing off.

With that, Pussy hands the microphone back to the camera man.  The screen fades out to black.

18
Climax Control Archives / Liar, Liar, Ego On Fire
« on: March 14, 2014, 10:13:57 PM »
 
<img src=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v674/GXWSpikeStaggs/031614Scene01Take2_zpsf980cb16.png>

”Intelligence and genius are two different things.  Intelligence is the ability to learn and maintain facts and skills, especially when highly developed.  Genius is more like its bat shit crazy cousin…” –Delia, darling if you must



Another Climax Control has come and gone, and as Delia predicted, she had not yet been foiled.  She was nowhere near ready to concede to the pompous ass who is Head of Talent Relations, better known to the fans as Erik Staggs.  Any time she felt like she was about to give in and allow Jessie Salco to get the better of her, she would imagine the light colored mole on Erik Staggs’ right ass cheek, and she found her second, third, and even forth wind.  Imagining the humiliation for someone of her standing to kneel down and publicly kiss Erik’s ass was enough motivation for her to take down the most serious of adversaries.  The thought makes her want to vomit all over the audience… again.  There was only one cure for this ailment…

We focus in on a sipping glass full of an amber bourbon as it is roughly set down on the bar.  The liquid sloshes around as one drop finds its way over the edge of the glass and onto the black marble bar top.  The delicate, porcelain hand of Delia quickly scoops it up as she lifts it to her nose, taking in a sniff of the nauseatingly grotesque American trash bourbon.  However, it pales in comparison to the image of the middle-aged butt that has now began twerking in her mind.  She needed to get over this quickly, so she downs the liquid in one fast motion, slamming the glass back down to the bar, holding up her hand for another.  The music in the background switches over to “Do What U Want (Featuring R. Kelly” by Lady Gaga, and Delia rolls her eyes.  She turns around to see the half naked men dancing with one another.  The bass bounces off of the glass of Jack Daniels that comes her way next.

Delia:  Lady Gaga?  So disgusting how z’e gay boys idolize such z’e poser…

Delia scoops up the glass and downs it almost as quickly as the last one.  She places the glass down on the bar once more and stares at the bartender as if she doesn’t feel she should have to ask for another.  He smirks and shakes his head, sucking at his teeth with a flamboyant hand gesture.

Bartender:  You lezzies and your bourbon…  Any fairy would be cut off after three, you know…

Delia:  Pardon moi?  Did you just call me a lesbian?

The bartender turns around to grab the bottle of Jack Daniels from behind him as he sighs.  He turns back around with the bottle, ready to pour it when Delia pushes the bottle away, putting her hands on her hips.

Bartender:  Oh, I’m sorry.  Tell me, what is the appropriate term these days?  Turtle bumper?  Carpet…

Delia holds her hand up in his face, looking disgusted even more than she was previously.  She takes in a deep breath through her nose, blinking slowly to make sure she has the frosted tipped, glitter eyed, sequin shirt wearing bartender.

Delia:  Let me be z’e one to tell you z’at I am not a lesbian.  I like dick, same as you, sunshine.

Bartender:  Well then… you sure coulda fooled me, Princess PFLAG, with the way you’re slamming Jack.  What will it be then?  A Banana Daiquiri?  A Sssslippery Nipple?  SCREAMING Orgasm?

Delia:  Don’t tempt me, darling.  I have a s’ing for men who pose a challenge.  But z’en I am reminded z’at you are nos’ing more z’an a poor imitation of Emmet Honeycutt, who has failed to join us in 2014, and I feel as if I should go back to daydreaming of my forty year old bosses flabby ass, because it would be an improvement…

Delia snaps her fingers as she points at the bartender, almost causing the snappy queen to drop his jaw in surprise.  He quickly rebounds, raising an eyebrow in her direction, but she tosses her hair over her shoulder as if to challenge him.

Bartender:  I apologize if I’ve offended you, miss… I didn’t realize that the tightest ass in here tonight would be on a female.

Delia:  And z’e thickest head would be on such a backward s’inking man who is more of a lady z’an I am.  How do you expect z’e simple minds to stop calling you sissies and faggots when you walk around calling each other sissies and faggots?  It is demeaning and counter productive to equal rights movements.

Bartender:  Let me guess… that’s supposed to be my most rewarding tip of the night?

Delia almost seems to tune him out as she focuses in on Alex Jeffries (Holly Wood out of drag), dancing by himself, watching the bartender from the corner of his eyes.  He is shirtless, his chest glistening with oil in the many colored lights that are flashing around him.  Delia notices this immediately and she turns around to face the bartender with one final smug expression.

Delia:  No… his is…

Delia points Alex out and then waves him over toward the bar.  Alex quickly rushes over as Delia walks in the opposite direction.  She brushes past a muscled tanned Adonis as she walks up the steps to the upper deck.  As she goes, she passes several couples of men who are making out, feeling each other up, and she smirks, finding it thrilling to watch, but doesn’t want to disrupt it.  She reaches the top to find Angelica dancing in the center of a group of guys cheering her on.  Delia smirks as she cuts through them, coming up on Angelica, dropping it low as she rises up.  Angelica looks as if Delia had just challenged her to a duel.  She drops down low as well, giving her toned backside the proper display it deserves.  She gives it a few slow bounces, running her fingers up her tanned legs slowly, popping her backside out for added flare.  The men cheer her on, wishing they could emulate her, rather than be with her.  Delia shakes her head, admitting defeat early on.  Instead, she grabs onto Angelica and pulling her close from behind.

Delia: I s’ink we should show z’ese boys how to grind.

Random Guy: (Whispering) I saw those two chick kissing on the internet earlier tonight.

Delia doesn’t stop, not worried about what people think of her.  She smirks and runs her hands up and down Angelica’s sides as she grinds back on her.  Angelica seems surprised, but she goes with it.  The crowd starts to dissipate, and Angelica’s need to be the center of attention goes unquenched.  She growls in frustration as everyone quickly disappears.

Angelica:  What the hell, Deelz?  I was having fun and…

Delia:  We need to talk, especially after what happened last s’ree weeks ago.

Angelica:  Well, I’m not going to apologize for punching you.  You were being a total beyotch…

Delia shrugs her shoulders as if this weren’t any kind of news to her.  She slowly pulls off of Angelica, turning around to look into Angelica’s emerald eyes, taking it in for a moment.

Delia:  I do not expect you to apologize, darling… Actually, if you did, I would have no respect for you.  Z’at is what I like about you, Angie… You are as cold and heartless as I am.  You shouldn’t have to apologize to me for anys’ing.

Angelica:  Yeah, because you should apologize to me…

Delia laughs at the absurdity and holds a hand up toward Angelica.  Angelica wastes no time in smacking it down, glaring at Delia for a moment.  She looks utterly disgusted with Delia.

Delia:  Did anys’ing I just said register, darling?  I respect you for not apologizing, even if you should, and…

Angelica:  Okay, fine!  I’m sorry for punching you.  You’ve manipulated me into feeling sorry for what I did, but do you know why that is?

Delia:  No I do not, but I expect you will be enlightening me, no?

Angelica looks frustrated beyond repair.  She growls loudly at Delia and leans in, biting onto her lower lip out of anger, trying to hold back from shouting and causing a huge scene.  She can’t hold back all of the venom as she continues.

Angelica:  GOD! Can you, like, not be a bitch for five minutes and listen to yourself?  You sound pathetic.

Delia:  I’m sorry if you must find acceptance from any man who will stare at your tits and ass, straight or os’erwise… But, you had a point, darling…

Angelica:  It’s because I’m a fucking human being… I do have a heart.  I can’t say the same for you on either count, though… Sorry ‘bout it, Delia… Darling…  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some men who enjoy watching me dance, and not having to worry about them trying to get in my pants…

Angelica brushes her shoulder against Delia’s as she knocks her out of her way.  Delia wants to object, but she almost seems to choke on her words.  She kicks the railing nearby as she grits her teeth.  She turns around and nearly bumps into a man in his thirties.  His chestnut brown hair messily forms around his head, curling just slightly in the back.  She soaks in ever detail of the man, from the light scruff covering his cheeks, chin, and lightly over his upper lip, to the broad chest, and hulked up forearms.  He smirks as he sees Delia standing there, almost starstruck.

Kraven:  Don’t worry, I left the chair in my car.

Delia:  Pardon?  I’m afraid I don’t understand some American slang, and…

Kraven takes a step closer, taking Delia’s breath away as her lip quivers in a mixture of sensual fear.  She tries to straighten her posture, trying to seem unaffected by his glorious stature, despite his height or a mere 5 feet and… 11 inches?

Kraven:  Delia… Darling, because I must!  I was referring to the steel chair that I used to incapacitate Spike Staggs earlier tonight… no?  No recognition at all?  Well, that’s a shame.

Delia:  Pardon me for being so forward, but I don’t pay attention to matters z’at do not affect me, and z’at certainly does not…

Kraven:  Oh, I beg to differ… Your performance tonight was simply stunning.  You might have earned a shot at his fiancée based on that match alone.  Just imagine, an opponent in a fragile state… long hours spent at the hospital, helping to heal him with her love.  Or staying up late to fetch him a glass of water at 3am when he can’t sleep, because images of this boogeyman dancing through his head.

Delia stares at the egomaniac, and his attractiveness drops from a 10 to a 6 in just a matter of thirty seconds.  She rolls her eyes and places a hand just an inch from his face as she walks past him.

Delia:  You bore me wi’s your attempts at getting in my lace panties.  Coming to a place like z’is, I would not expect to be hit on…

Delia is surprised when Kraven grabs onto her hand gently, bringing it to his lips as he plants a tender kiss on it, causing her to tremble.  He might have gone up to an 8 in her eyes with this display.  She tries her best to look annoyed as she spins around, but the smile on her face lets him know that she is intrigued, at least slightly.

Kraven:  Who said I would even need to try?  Besides, I didn’t come here on my own merit, after all.  I was trying to get your attention, but it seems that such a prize is hardly afforded to a man of simple tastes such as myself.

Delia:  If you believe z’is, z’en why do you s’ink you can invade my underwear so easily?  Why bos’er trying to sweet talk me, telling me what I already know… z’at my performance against Jessie Salco was anys’ing less z’an spectacular?  I already know I am amazing.

Kraven:  Ohhh, beautiful and modest to boot?  Any man would be lucky to breach those sugar walls on a regular basis, even if it meant tolerating your undeserved arrogance.  You’re a real prize, darling…

Delia looks offended by Kraven’s rather crude and explicit comment.  She hauls back and slaps the taste out of his mouth.  Kraven softly touches at his cheek as a surprisingly high pitched, maniacal giggle escapes his lips.  Delia raises an eyebrow at him in pure and utter confusion.  Kraven smiles as he shakes his head from side to side rapidly, doing a Roger Rabbit impression in response.

Delia:  You are mad as z’e hatter, darling.  I’m afraid I must insist on excusing myself from z’is conversation now before I wind up in a bas’tub somewhere, missing my kidney or somes’ing…

Delia brushes past Kraven, showing what is likely to be fear, for the first time in front of a viewing audience.  She walks to the steps, but finds it too crowded with couples making out to even attempt getting down them.  She turns around to see Kraven waving at her.  She quickly turns around, lowering her head as she storms around the upper balcony area.  She occasionally looks back, but doesn’t see Kraven following her.  She breathes a sigh of relief as she walks to another set of stairs leading to the main floor.  While it is still littered with male on male sexiness, there is enough of a path for her to walk down.  She traces her way through the crowd and back over to the bar.  The bartender is speaking with Alex still, but Delia interrupts as if her friend wasn’t even there.

Delia:  I s’ink I will take you up on your offer of z’e Banana Daiquiri now, monsieur…

Bartender:  Coming right up sweetness… Oh, I’m sorry.  Is it okay to call you something like that, or will it set my “people” back a decade?

Delia sneers at him as she takes a seat on a barstool.  She waits as the bartender quickly blends the ingredients together with a loud whirring noise.  After a moment, he pours it into a tall glass.  He turns around to bring it over to her.  No sooner than he can set it down on the bar in front of her, a voice comes from the far end of the bar.

Kraven:  Hey, Evan… Go ahead and put that on my tab for the evening.

Delia looks up and hugs onto Alex’s arm as if he would protect her from Kraven.  Kraven chuckles in a high pitched manner once more as he simply shakes his head.

Alex:  He, tall, dark, and ferrrrr-eaky!  My girl here might be a drag queen with a vagina and an affinity for gay boys, but clearly she isn’t interested or else she wouldn’t think I could stand a chance defending her against you.  So why don’t you take yourself over to the door, walk out of it, and stop by JC Penny, because they want their clothes back, kay?

Delia watches Kraven as is eyes narrow at Alex.  His mouth opens slightly as his mood immediately switches from delight to anger.  He twitches and slaps his face while muttering underneath his breath.

Alex:  What part of that did you not understand?  Would you like me to put on captions for the hearing impaired?  She’s… not… in-ter-es-ted!

While Alex speaks, he begins drawing squiggly lines in the air underneath himself, giving one final line of sass as he waves his finger at Kraven for emphasis.  Kraven’s eyes widen as the light reflects off of the beads of sweat forming on his eyebrow.  Delia leans in softly to whisper into Alex’s ear.

Delia:  Alex, be careful… he’s z’e man who broke Spike Staggs’ knee earlier tonight…

Kraven:  I thought you were soooo FUCKING SPECIAL, that you didn’t have to pay attention to things that don’t *air quotes* concern you…

Delia straightens her posture and squeezes onto Alex’s arm even tighter.  Alex tries to play it off as boldly as he can, but he nudges Delia and mutters “oww-uh” at her so that she might loosen her grip.  Delia swallows hard before licking at her lips, and dropping a pair of lady balls once more.

Delia:  Well, it appears z’at someone took out Vixen’s fiancée, and as a future contender to z’e Bombshell Championship, I must look for weaknesses of my opponents, no?

Delia snubs her nose up at Kraven, pasting a smug smile across her face.  Kraven narrows his eyes further at her as he slowly stands up from his seat.  He takes one step closer to Delia, causing her to go back to hugging onto Alex’s arm.  The two of them take a step backward for each step that Kraven takes forward.  The two of them finally bump into a man who mutters obscenities at them before he goes back to dancing.  This gives Kraven time to catch up to them, getting nose to nose with Delia.  Alex lets go of Delia and backs off a few feet.

Alex:  Sorry honey, you’s on ya own babygurrrl!

Delia:  Asshole…

The only thing left for Delia to do is to do what she does best and shrug it off.  No matter how crazy this guy might be, he wouldn’t dare do anything too terrible with such a wide audience, right?  Not unless he has a gun, and decides to mow down the entire place, OH GOD!  Her fear doesn’t have time to manifest as he grips onto her cheeks and plants a cartoon-like kiss on her lips, pulling away with a delightful laugh, and a smile to match it.

Kraven:  And so it appears I was right all along… You were listening!

Delia:  What z’e hell, man?!  You are z’e mindfuck of z’e century…  But you kiss like a Frenchman…

Kraven smirks at the comment.  Delia looks over to see that her friend is nowhere to be seen.  She rolls her eyes and does what she does best, getting in Kraven’s face, standing up on the tips of her toes, she looks right into his eyes, daring him to try something.

Kraven:  These games are getting very old, very quickly Ms. Delacourte… er, Ms. Darling.  And that says a lot coming from someone who rather enjoys mind games.  I have a proposition for you, and…

Delia:  Save your breath, Mr. Moorehead.  And save z’e games for someone who cares.  Anyone wi’s access to Wikipedia will know my birth name, so I am not impressed nor am I scared z’at you have figured z’is out.  As for any hopes you had for invading my panties, you may as well forget it.  I’m not interested, and I’m not afraid to bitchslap you into z’e next decade.

Kraven takes a step back, keeping a close and calculated eye on Delia, all while maintaining the impression that he is captivated only with her eyes.  His cold exterior goes unchanged as he takes about half of a step backward to give her space.

Kraven:  You must know that I didn’t come here to intimidate you.  That was just a bonus!  And trust me when I say that a diving expedition into your Barges Canal was not the reason I tracked you down either.  My proposition is strictly plutonic, I can assure you of it.

Delia: What business could you possibly have wi’s me z’at doesn’t involve sex?  You are new here, so you haven’t made any female enemies.  And besides, if you had, you could smack her around yourself for only but a mere fine.  Z’ere is no reason you could possibly need me…

Kraven:  Oh, there is.  Trust me.

Kraven reaches over and picks up his cocktail glass, slowly sipping at the red, fruity liquid inside.  Delia looks a bit confused as she places her hands on her hips, her head bobbing to the left as she waits for some sort of explanation.

Delia:  Oh?  Do tell, darling…

Kraven:  Look, you are an amazing talent.  Your charisma and nerve make up for any skill you may be lacking.  You are bound to do very well in Sin City Wrestling.  I’m pretty sure of it.

Delia:  Oh, but z’is is mere flattery.  What do you want, to put on z’e wig and join Mean Girls for a quick ride to z’e top?  I hate to break it to you, but you just don’t have the feminine touch…

Kraven smirks and bats his eyelashes at Delia as if he were some sort of pretty princess, running the tips of his fingers up and down his face to show her otherwise.  All this gets from her is a chuckle and a look of dismissal.

Kraven:  I have face… for… years, darling!

Delia:  Is z’at your impression of me?  If flattery is your goal, I s’ink you set your sights just a little too low…

Kraven:  Look, I want you to drop the ball in your match against Odette Ryder and Steve Ramone.  Simple as that…

Delia’s jaw drops as she looks at Kraven, her eyes sparkling in the multi-color flashes of light resonating from the dance floor.  She offers him little more than a chuckle, setting her drink back on the bar in a show of defiance.  She mutters under her breath in French as she pulls her coat check ticket from her pocket, ready to storm off.

Kraven:  You’ve already exceeded people’s expectations of you, Delia.  Nobody expected you to make it past the first round, and here you are, entering the third.  You’ve proven your worth to SCW, and I guarantee you will get a shot at the Bombshell Championship in the very near future.

Delia spins around on her heels, allowing her dress to flutter out into a perfect cone shape before she comes to a halt, staring right at Kraven with a look of death spread over her face.

Delia:  You want me to purposely lose to… to… that… AMERICAN PIG and the fans’ precious Aussie dumpling?  If I am outclassed in z’is match, z’en so be it… but I will be damned if I am going to sit down and LET it happen, Mr. Moorehead.

Kraven:  And I will not stand by and let the same people run amuck over SCW any longer.  It is getting old, and the fans will start throwing their money in different directions.  It’s bad for business.

Delia:  Oh yes, because Odette Ryder has not had her many successes here?  I must have dreamt up her two Bombshell Championship reigns?  And it must have been a hallucination z’at she won z’is very Tournament last year?  Pardon me, I must be mistaken…

Delia turns around once more and walks toward the exit of the club.  Kraven isn’t quite done yet as he follows closely behind her, trying to talk sense into the diva as she just continues to walk.

Kraven:  I want to see chaos, because chaos sells out the seats!  Imagine Steve Ramone becoming SCW’s Heavyweight Champion.  It would have been a ludicrous thought to anyone… until NOW!  It could be huge for him!  And the fans!

Delia:  First off, fuck z’e fans, Kraven.  Second, I do not give a shit about Steve Ramone, or chaos.  I care about me, myself, and I, in case you hadn’t noticed.  I care about Es’an Brody, only because we have somes’ing to gain from each os’er.

Kraven:  Forgive me if I don’t buy it.  You must not realize one of my many talents is reading people.  That or you must find me completely and utterly stupid…

Delia:  And you must s’ink I’m stupid enough to be talked into lying down so Odette Ryder can stampede over me z’e way she has every os’er Bombshell SCW has ever seen.  I will not.  Not for you, not for Steve Ramone, not for z’e fans, not for z’e merchandisers, not for z’e management.  Not for anybody!  Are we clear, Mr. Moorehead?

Kraven’s persistence gives her the opposite answer of what she was looking for.  She shakes her head, placing the ticket down at the front desk.  A quiet, otter type man smiles and nods his head as he goes in search of Delia’s jacket and purse.  She continues to stare forward as Kraven refuses to leave her alone.

Delia:  Did you not hear me?  I know my English is not z’e best, but damn…

Kraven:  No, I heard you.  And I do understand the qualms you must have, but trust me when I say that things are about to unravel, and you will reap the rewards if you do this one, teeny tiny favor for me.

Delia closes her eyes, taking in a deep breath to think it over.  As she opens her eyes, she sees the young man standing with her purse and jacket in hand.  She takes them gently, nodding her head as she slides the jacket around her body.  She slowly begins walking to the door.  Being the gentleman he is, Kraven runs two paces ahead of her to open the door for her.  She smirks, giving him a wink as she prepares to pass.  He sticks his arm out, blocking her from leaving.

Kraven:  Will you at least consider my offer?  Pretty please?  With sugar on top?

She giggles under her breath at his dashing, charming façade.  She gives him a nod and he slowly raises his arm.  Delia walks underneath it and off to a black Jetta sitting near the doors of the club.  She stares back at him and pulls her keys from her purse, getting inside.  His smile widens in victory as she starts the engine.  He is prepared to go back inside when Delia rolls down the window.

Delia:  Where are you going, darling?  Z’e straight clubs are a few blocks z’at way?

Kraven:  Like I said… I didn’t come here for you…

Kraven chuckles as Delia smiles deviously.  She starts to roll the window up, but she reverses it, causing Kraven to stop dead in his tracks.

Delia:  Kraven!  I have s’ought about your offer!

Kraven:  Yeah?  And?

Delia places the palm of her hand against her lips firmly, blowing him a genuine kiss.  He reaches into the air as if he is grabbing the invisible kiss.  Before he can get to sentimental about it, Delia’s face sours and she flips him off abruptly.  She shoves her foot down on the gas and brakes, causing smoke to come from her tires before taking off down the street.  Kraven’s face sours and he shakes his head before returning to the club’s interior.
[*Fade*]


<img src=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v674/GXWSpikeStaggs/031614Scene02_zps9c82f09f.png>

”Hair is most beautiful at its tip.  This is the part that most people see and admire.  You can shape and mold it any way you like.  However, when the hair begins to deteriorate, it isn’t the tips that you tend to.  It is the roots, because this is where it all begins.  It is what shapes the health and appearance.” –Delia, darling if you must



Paris is a city renowned for its culture, its beauty, its architecture and its fashion houses.  It is the City of lights…the city de  l’amour… People will tell you that Paris is enveloped in a magical invisible cloud full of smells such as fresh baked baguettes, a wafting scent of perfume carried on a springlike breeze, and flowers everywhere.  There is never a cloudy day in Paris, and even when the sun goes down on the city of love, the moon makes it just that much more romantic.  They are full of shit, much like the city itself.  The smell of urine and stagnant water that constantly lurks, and let’s not even begin to talk about the body odor that resonates in almost any building you enter.  The condescending remarks from the unfriendly patrons of the city fall upon the deaf American ear, unless you have the money to pay them to be nice, and even then, it is a gamble.  And the food…a potent Parisienne gamble that could land you in the bathroom for the better part of an evening if you aren’t careful.

This surely sounds like the remarks of a bitter person who has never been touched by the love bug in Paris, right?  Let us consider the fact that it could also be the opinion of a Parisian native, such as Delia Darling.  But, upon pondering the question, it is a safe bet that it could be both.  After all, Delia had not been home to visit in nearly seven years to date.  Something inside of her wishes that she hadn’t, and wonders what could have possibly made her decide to come back.

The cool morning breeze whips at Delia’s short and simple dark brown hair.  She grabs at the edge of her jacket and pulls it closer to her body, shivering in the shadows on this bright and sunny day.  She shivers as walks along the streets, thinking to herself about what she might do now that she is back home, in the place that she claims to be so superior to the United States.  As she turns a corner of the historic neighborhood, she sees a shining beacon of hope… Centre Georges Pompidou.  It looks as if it is a building undergoing construction based upon the outside with the scaffolding surrounding it.  Delia shades her eyes from the bright sunlight, and her frown turns itself upside down in 0.2 seconds.  She stands there, just taking in the wondrous view as her scarf blows back in the wind.  Her breath can be seen as she hugs her jacket even closer to herself.  She rushes over toward the building like a child running toward a magasin de bonbons, her eyes filled with pure, unadulterated joy.

Delia:  Merci Dieu!  (Thank you God!)  Oh, how I have missed you!

Delia comes to a halt as she notices a tall man who is balding slightly, with his head shaved close to help make the balding look minimal.  He is tall and lanky, dressed in a black turtleneck sweater and a pair of black slacks.  He is seen leaning against part of the scaffolding, talking to a young lady who is laughing.  He looks suspiciously to us like Ethan Brody gone “avant garde”, even as he turns around to looks in Delia’s direction, the resemblance is almost uncanny.  Delia freezes, dead in her tracks as their deep, dark eyes meet one another.  Delia feels as if the life is being sucked out of her once more, and everything fades into the background.

*

Queue the old timey style camera footage.  Queue the accordion music.  Queue the moonlight sparkling off of the Seine River, reflecting in Delia’s eyes as she slowly raises her glass of red wine to her lips in this silent film short.  She smiles coyly as she stares into this gentleman’s eyes, a million words unspoken, nor do they need to be, as her chest heaves in her light blouse.  Around them are a dozen people, also enjoying the scenic moonlight cruise.  However, as far as either one can tell, they are the only ones in the entire world.  Delia breaks the stare, for hope that she might be able to break the loss of control she is beginning to feel with the man who has stolen her heart.  He lifts her head up as he moves in closer, forcing her to surrender.  Thankfully, we have been afforded the English subtitle version…

Delia:  Oh, Guillaume… This just doesn’t feel right.

Guillaume’s masculine hold over her is too much as she succumbs to his charm.  He softens his expression as he looks deep into her eyes, watching his own dance within them.

Guillaume:  Cordelia, we are two halves of the same soul.  When will you realize this?

The music seems to soften a bit as the grainy film picks up a hint of the Eiffel Tower in the background.  Guillaume runs his fingers up and down her cheek as she looks away, a tear rolling down her cheek.

Delia: Guillaume… a name I cannot keep off of my tongue.  Such sweet poetry, from your name, to the gleam in my eye just from speaking it.  Do you fear we are going too fast?

Guillaume: The only thing that is going too fast right now, is my heart, darling. We have only known each other such a short time in this life, but what of the dozens of others where I am sure we have known one another?

A tear rolls down Delia’s cheek as she turns away so not to show him her vulnerability.  He would much sooner jump overboard, drowning in the Seine himself than to let this tear disappear into it, like the thousands of others.  He wipes it from her cheek, holding it as the second greatest treasure he has aside from her affection.

Delia:  It is foolish.  We are both from opposite sides of Musee d'Orsay.  You are a wonderful modern artist, and I am but a mere waitress, trying to make something of herself.

Guillaume:  Life is a series of foolish moments.  Every risk we take is foolish.  But what are we if we do not take risks?  What do we have to gain?  Challenges await us around every corner, so why don’t we face them with a partner rather than alone?  If anything ever made sense, it would be this, darling…

Delia wipes another tear, but this time she smiles.  She takes another sip of her wine before Guillaume takes her lips against his own, as if he were trying to get just a small taste of the wine before she had consumed it all.  He feels intoxicated by her lips more than the wine, and the feeling continues to course through his entire body until he can think of nothing more than to dip her over the railing of the small boat.  Her chest heaves in pure ecstasy as she surrenders herself completely to this.  She wraps her arms, feeling the thrill of this surrender coupled with the thrill of hanging over the edge of the boat, and knowing that no one else on this boat could ever match the passion that she feels in this very moment.  She never wants it to end, and for a while, she actually believes that it never will.  That is, until he finally pulls his lips from hers, and they look deep into one another’s eyes once more as he slowly lifts her back to a standing position.  Her breaths are shallow and hopeless as she feels the withdrawals.

Guillaume:  I swear to you, by the time we reach Normandy, your heart will belong to me… After all, it is only fair since you stole mine a week ago at Chez Eudo.

Delia:  Oh, Guillaume, it was always yours.  My head just convinced me that I hadn’t already served it to you with your mille-feuille.

Guillaume:  Then you will give me your hand, forever and for always, darling?

*

Delia:  Oui… oui!

She opens her eyes, seeing that there is no Seine River, no boat, and no old timey camera effect to blind her. The only thing that remains the same as her vivid memory is Guillaume standing in front of her, albeit looking rather confused.  Delia clears her throat as he joyful smile fades from her face, shrouded by her typical “bitch” look.  She pulls her jacket closer to herself, although now it seems as if it is to keep the frigid cold radiating off of her heart from turning Paris into an Antarctic tundra.  She purses her lips as Guillaume smiles warmly at her.

Guillaume:  Ma chère?

Delia:  *Scoff* No… And show some fucking culture, you disgusting pig!  Or did you compromise your principles z’e night you compromised z’at filthy pute?

Guillaume:  I see your hostility has not faded much since we last spoke eight years ago…

Delia sticks her tongue out at him in a taunting manner as if to goad him, however he is unaffected by this display.  Instead, he takes up her hand and brings it up toward his lips.  He prepares to kiss it gently when she rips it from his grip and begins stomping, getting as close to his face as she can as she makes a public spectacle out of the situation.

Delia:  GET YOUR FILTHY FUCKING LIPS AWAY FROM ME YOU… You… *mutters* swine…

Guillaume:  Okay, okay… calm down, Cordelia… I can see z’at I am upsetting you, no?  So I will go.  But not wis’out letting you know what a… pleasure it has been just to see your face, up close and personal again.

Delia:  You lost z’e right to call me z’at when you impregnated z’at disgusting bitch you called your work partner.  Besides, I had hoped not to see your face, but I guess you have sold your self-righteous soul to z’e mainstream Devil afterall?

Guillaume’s face turns solemn the second Delia responds, and he remains quiet so that she can unleash upon him.  After all, it was the least he could do for betraying her the way he had.  He simply nods his head at her, for almost a minute after she had stopped speaking.  Finally, he breaks the silence, once he is sure that the short lived spectacle had dissolved enough.

Guillaume:  Z’ere is no excuse for what I’ve done to you, the heartache z’at I’ve caused you, but believe me when I tell you z’at I have not let a day go by where I didn’t s’ink of you, missing you.

Delia:  Pas’etic…

Delia shakes her head in disgust as she nearly vomits on his shoes.  She pulls a cigarette from within her jacket, a long, thin white stick that she presses between her lips.  Guillaume reaches into his jacket to pull out a lighter, but Delia snatches it from his hand, tossing it to the ground as she pulls out one of her own to make a point.  She lights it as Guillaume scoffs at her.

Guillaume:  It’s z’e truth, and I will not apologize for it.

Delia:  If I meant z’at much to you, I would have s’ought you would come find me in Miami.  You know, z’e place I almost abandoned to be wi’s you.  And judging by z’e shine of your head, it seems I made z’e right call.

Guillaume:  I wanted to, but I got a deal wi’s z’e gallery here, and…

Delia rolls her eyes as she takes a deep drag off of the cigarette.  She blows it to the side, letting the wind waft the smoke off into the clear Parisian sky.  She shakes her head, laughing at him.

Delia:  Z’e sad part is z’at you inspired me in so many ways.  I would still be waiting tables at Chez Eudo if I didn’t view my body as an artistic expression.  I would still be living in z’at filthy little apartment wi’s you, filling you head wi’s bullshit about how brilliant and talented you are.  Z’e tru’s is z’at you have gotten nowhere.

Guillaume smiles smugly as he slowly brings his hand back, presenting to her the museum behind him.  She rolls her eyes again, shaking her head quickly to let him know that she doesn’t buy it anymore.

Delia:  I’m supposed to drop my panties right here over a pretentious, censored piece of garbage littering z’e name of art for z’e mainstream?  Your artistic integrity hasn’t only shrunk… it’s disappeared altogez’er…  I make people listen to what I have to say.  I don’t give z’em a choice.  I don’t care if z’ey buy it, because I’m not selling my soul… only z’e message.  You sell pictures of fruit bowls and naked ladies you recently put your penis in.

Guillaume:  You are just bitter because you will never have a long lasting relationship.  You want to blame me, but z’e fact is z’at you don’t know z’e word forgiveness.  Z’at is not my fault.  Even if it is not me, I hope z’at one day, you find z’e meaning in someone else.

Delia:  You disgust me.  Even after eight years, you cannot admit to being wrong?  I s’ought you were a man, but you are just a Lost Boy, stuck in Neverland for all eternity…

Delia takes one last long drag from the cigarette between her fingers, blowing it directly in his face as a showing of defiance.  She drops the half-smoked cigarette to the ground and stomps it out firmly with her heel.  She starts to walk away when Guillaume grabs onto her hand, stopping her.  She is fuming at this gesture, so much so that she cannot seem to even react right away.

Guillaume:  I still believe z’at you are z’e oz’er half of my heart, Cordelia.  I will never love anyone as much as you ever again.  And anys’ing less z’an z’at simply will not do for me.  I have but half of a heart now, darling.

Delia slowly widens her hand, opening his hand enough so that she can slide it out with ease.  She flips her scarf back over her shoulder, letting the wind take over control of it once more as she ever so slowly turns back around to face him.  She places her hand on his cheek tenderly.  She runs her finger up and down the cheek so slowly that he can’t help but to close his eyes and savor the moment.

Delia:  Z’at is as sweet as z’e words you used to speak to me as we lied in bed at night, waiting to fall asleep.  Unfortunately, all of z’ose words were bullshit, and I’m afraid z’at z’is is too… I took back all of my heart six years ago, so I guess z’at leaves you doomed to walk around as half of a man for all eternity… because you will never walk around wi’s me, ever again!

She rears her hand back and slaps Guillaume across his face, making sure to leave a rosy hand print on his sun-kissed skin.  He places his hand to his cheek, almost as if he were savoring the pain.  However, Delia decides to give him one last parting sensation as she wraps her arms around him, embracing him long enough to dig her knee deep into his crotch.  As he kneels down before her, she narrows her eyes and stares down into his for one last time.

Delia:  Z’at sinking feeling you have is only half of z’e one I had eight years ago.  Sadly, yours will fade in a few moments, and mine did not fade for two years.  Even leaving z’is cesspool wasn’t enough to forget you.  At least our last memory will be a pleasant one… for me at least.

Delia reaches up near her earlobe, flipping her brunette hair out as a show of how pained she is to see him like this.  She offers him a pleasant smile as she turns on her heels, walking off into the sun as he simply groans on his knees, clutching at his stomach.
[*Fade*]


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”Charity is good for the soul.  It reminds us that, no matter how big our egos have gotten, we are still human beings who can have everything ripped away from us at any time.”-Delia, darling if you must



”One More Time” by Daft Punk plays over the speakers in the small New York art gallery for the Annual Concept Fashion Art Show, sponsored by Delia Darling, with all proceeds going to spread awareness.  Such a vague concept, isn’t it?  The proceeds actually go to Delia’s pocket for her to split amongst several charities of her choosing.  Ultimately, they are spread out between LGBT Initiatives across the country, as well as the Art Institute of New York, funding their premier fashion department.  Despite what one might think of Delia, she certainly does believe in two causes, and will do anything to promote them.  But also, it gives her an excuse to be a frigid bitch while others simply accept it because she is paying them.

Delia:  WHERE ARE Z’E SPOTLIGHTS?!  And who z’e FUCK picked z’is music?!  Did we time warp back a decade?  Is z’is a retro piece?  I’d ras’er hear “Time Warp” from z’e Rocky Horror Picture Show…

Delia holds onto her clipboard as she storms through the back.  She is wearing a simple hairpiece tonight, platinum blonde with waves for days.  She is wearing a black silk robe and house slippers as the tech guy shouts up from the rafters.

Tech:  We’s just waitin’ on the models to arrive to the stage.  And I’m only playin’ what I was told to, Deelz!

Delia:  Well it fucking sucks… Next year, I plan z’e playlist as well.  Great, one more s’ing to worry about.

She shakes her head in frustration as Angelica comes up from out of nowhere, looking less than pleased to see Delia.  She approaches the preoccupied diva Bombshell with caution, partially because her red gown is skin tight against her legs until it flows outward in a lacy, frilly number.  The other part of her is still upset from the events of the last few weeks, and this time, she doesn’t appear ready to come crawling back to Delia, despite what Delia might think.

Delia:  Are you scared, darling?  Come.  Come to mama.

Angelica:  Scared of you?  Puh-lease!  This dress is just a little too tight.

Delia:  I s’ought you knew better z’an z’is, Angie.  Check z’e fit, and widen your hemline before you hit z’e runway…

The music begins pumping as the tech guy puts on the spotlight.  A group of women in the most outrageous outfits line up at the burgundy curtains, waiting for their cues to come from the stagehand.  Angelica slowly shakes her head, gulping as the gravity of the situation has just come to light for her.

Angelica:   I just came to you to let you know that one of your models had a freak out and ran out the back door.  Some Sophomore Fashion student from the institute who was in over her head.

Delia:WHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!?!?!?!?!?!

We switch to see the capacity crowd of fashionistas and otherwise pretentious (rich) assholes as they all seem to simultaneously place reading glasses upon their faces, chattering indistinctly about how brilliant these shows always are, or how sizeable their contribution was this year.  The booming, deep, and masculine emcee for the evening’s voice booms through the speakers over the music.

Emcee:  Llllladies and Gentlemen… it is my pleasure to welcome you to the Forth Annual Concept Fashion Art Show, sponsored by Darling Fashion Incorporated.  We ask that you put your hands together for the Art Institute of Fashion and our models for this evening!

The audience does as they are told, gently clapping their hands as if they were robots following a simple command.  The talking lowers down to a murmur for those who are “rebellious” enough to talk for five seconds after the show has been kicked off.  The music fades into “Part of Me” by Katy Perry, which for a moment, if you listen close enough, you can hear Delia having an aneurism from freaking out again.  Our first lady comes out in a conceptual piece made entirely from silk flowers of white, pink, and yellow.  The slim fitting piece contours the six foot tall model’s small curves, leading up to the bouquet worked into her lovely up do.  She gives a slow spin, letting the dress fly outward as she twirls, a sign that Spring is coming in full force.  As she reaches mid runway, the curtains open once more to show off a woman in a simple pleated mint sundress and an umbrella… simple until you notice that it is far from it.  She runs her left heel up her right leg, and the waistline seems to rise with her leg like an umbrella.  The audience is wowed by this as she gives a slow spin, showing the matching unitard underneath.  She poses, leaning on the umbrella before looking at the ceiling as if it were the sky.  She opens the umbrella and then sashays down to the end as the flower girl is making her way backstage.

Emcee: Shandra Williamson is the brilliant student who designed this rainy day couture gown, soon to be available in a variety of colors through Darling Fashions Inc…

The audience gives a polite clap in response to this proclamation as the next model works her way from backstage.  She is wearing a yellow and black pinstripe business pantsuit with matching sunglasses.  She stops and brushes her blonde hair from her face as she pulls a cell phone out of her pocket.  She moves her lips as if speaking into it as she struts along the runway.  She stops, lowering her glasses to look out into the audience before walking forward to the end.  Next up, Angelica walks out in her red gown, wearing a blue sequin jacket with white stars, and a sparkling “Uncle Sam” style top hat.  She slowly walks as if she were simply “amber waves of grain” blowing in the wind.  She gives a slow turn, just enough to let the lace at the bottom to flare out for a moment.

Emcee:  Show your patriotism in style at your next Memorial Day gathering, but only if you haven’t lost the “winter ten” and don’t want to show off your fabulous swimsuits…  These three stunning outfits designed by Eduardo Mendez.

The audience gives an emotionless chuckle at the attempted joke.  Even the Emcee doesn’t truly find it funny as he goes back to being quiet.  Umbrella and bee lady work their way back up the runway as the spotlight returns to the curtains.  After a moment of elongated anticipation, the curtain flies open to find the shimmering beauty of Delia, wrapped in a turquoise robe. Thin strips of a satin-like material traces it’s way up her legs, draping from underneath the robe, but the color matches perfectly.  Delia has her eyes closed, and her eyes are painted in the same sparkling color.  She slowly opens her eyes as she struts forward.  The audience is caught in awe at the simplicity of this outfit as she works her way to the center of the stage.  Once she is there, she stops and bows her head modestly.  As the people murmur at this display, she rolls her shoulders around, allowing the robe to slip down them, showing her bare shoulders.  Within a few seconds of this, she soon drops the robe to the ground, showing off an intricate swimsuit with strips of fabric tracing along her body.  She looks up and raises her arms, allowing the fabric to form into wings.  She waves her arms as she quickly spins, causing an almost orb-like effect to surround her.  The audience gasps at the pure beauty of the piece, and Delia’s graceful moves.

Emcee:  This stunning piece was designed by Stacey Zucklemann, a first year student in the fashion program.  Delight your friends with this graceful and beautiful piece at your next pool party to become the centerpiece of the gathering.

Delia slows down her spinning to allow the fabric to glide back down to its original form.  Delia walks to the edge of the stage, passing Angelica with a smirk, which is returned.  Unbeknownst to the audience, she locks hands with Angelica for a brief second in passing as a show of unity before coming to the edge of the stage.  She lowers herself to the ground, the fabric spreading out around her as she begins doing a faux backstroke.  This only draws more and more applause from the audience.  This is when “Applause” by Lady Gaga begins to play.  The camera slowly spins around Delia as she swims on the ground, a smile upon her face as she delights the audience…

Backstage:

Delia makes her way through the burgundy curtains as the audience cheers her on.  She is now wearing a corseted top made of Christmas Lights and green garland, with a large ornamental star placed on top of her head, and a literal tree skirt for the skirt.  Around the bottom of the skirt is a small battery operated train set.  As ridiculous as the outfit looks, one thing is certain…

Angelica:  You made that piece of shit look like a million bucks!


((TBC Below))

19
Climax Control Archives / Pass Z'e Syrup, Darling
« on: March 06, 2014, 07:57:46 PM »
 
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”Trust is something not given lightly, just the same as a slap from a real bitch.  I can promise one over the other.  Can you guess which one?” –Delia, darling if you must


Relief…. Joy… satisfaction?  ALL OF THE ABOVE!  Delia felt it all, and ohhh so much more tonight.  After all, she made it to the second round of the Blast From the Past Tournament, all on her own!  Well, at least she thinks so… She practically runs around the ring, screaming in satisfaction.  Another step closer to the Sin City Wrestling Bombshell Championship, and a step away from having to kiss Erik Staggs’ ass cheeks!  It was certainly a magical night for her.  Of course, she pissed off more than a few people.  Miss Rocky Mountains was off the show because of a little bruised back like a whiny bitch.  Christian Underwood had gotten his panties in a twist over Delia and she refused to back down in his presence.  With all of this combined, she was nearly indestructible…

She soaks in the boos as she steps to the edge of the ring, slipping her shoes back on in the process.  She raises her fists in the air as she brushes past her tag team partner who is on his way to the back for a celebration of his own.  Without so much as a second glance, she does a sort of victory screech as she runs up the ramp, holding her dress up as she goes.  The fans raining trash down on her does nothing to her as she simply kicks it to the side.  She rushes through the curtains, expecting to see Holly Wood and Angelica waiting to congratulate her.  She blinks in confusion as she looks straight ahead without feeling anybody rushing her with hugs and giddy screeches.  She licks at her bottom lip before turning to her right.  Who should she see standing there?  No one, that’s who!  But, it’s okay, they are probably to her left, waiting to surprise her.  Her lips curl into a half smile as she slowly turns her head to the left…

Stagehand:  Move your ass, lady!  Can’t you see we’re trying to…?

Delia:  I beg your pardon?  Did you just address moi in such a way as z’is?

Stagehand:  Well, I didn’t fuckin’ stutter, did i?

Delia reels her hand back, ready to slap the taste out of the balding, overweight, sweaty, disgusting man pig who dares to impose himself in her personal space.  She narrows her eyes and snubs her nose as she wonders if it is worth getting his disgusting slime on her hand, but she decides to proceed.  With her hand just inches from his face, he bursts out into laughter.

Stagehand:  Go on ahead, sweetheart.  Nobody would miss your ass when Christian personally fires you.  Go ahead… put a little love tap right here…

The man turns his head to the left and pats his right cheek.  Delia’s hand nearly comes into contact with his face when she growls in frustration, allowing her hand to shake.  She takes in a deep breath through her nose as she closes her eyes, before widening her hand in his face as if to say “Talk to the hand”.  He nods his head as she simply walks off.  Looking like a lost little girl, Delia quickly looks from side to side, keeping the hem line of her skirt off of the ground.  She prances through the halls as if she were Cinderella, trying to make it home before midnight.  She has played this game once before, and she immediately makes her way through the halls and toward the make up table.  She turns a corner, coming to the table with high hopes, only to wind up disappointed.

Delia:  Fils de salope!  You girls are always predictable…

Delia shakes her head as she sighs.  She finds her make up bag exactly where she had left it, but Holly and Angelica’s are missing.  She shakes her head as she unzips the bag, reaching in for a pad to straighten up her make up.  Instead, she feels something that feels very foreign to her.  The crumpling noise intrigues her a bit as she pulls it out.  There is a folded piece of paper between her fingers and written in Sharpie is her name in plain, dull lettering.  She drops it, feeling offended that someone would take it upon themselves to get into her bag, and the lady that she paid one whole dollar to watch after it certainly did not earn the money.  Delia looks around for some sort of clue as to who it could be from, but she was the only one at this end of the corridor.  She unfolds the note impatiently, scanning it slowly.

”That was just embarrassing, ‘darling’.  It looks like you could use a few pointers.  If you are interested, please contact me at (blurred for confidentiality).  After what we just saw, it seems like you could use it…”

Delia:  What is z’e meaning of z’is?  I was z’e best wrestler of z’e night!

Delia balls up the note and tosses it into the waste basket nearby.  She shakes her head in frustration once more and simply zips her bag, tucking it under her arms as she heads toward the parking garage.  All the while, she mumbles under her breath in French, disgusted at the appalling words that this mystery person dared to aim at her.  She works her way quickly to the exit, shoving the big blue double doors open.  As she does, she sees Holly and Angelica standing there with their arms folded across their chests, tapping their feet impatiently.  Delia just growls under her breath and pulls a set of keys out of her make up bag, pressing a remote button, causing a loud recurring beep to echo through the garage.  Angelica and Holly look concerned as Delia simply passes them up.

Angelica:  Ohhh, honey… it’s okay.  You will get them next time.

Delia stops dead in her tracks turning her head to stare right at Angelica, her jaw clinched.  Angelica practically freezes in place as Holly raises an eyebrow, sucking on a lollipop and looking off to the side.  Delia’s lip curls into a smile momentarily.

Delia:  Yes I will, just as I did tonight…  We won…

Holly:  Oh my gawwwd gurrrrl!  No way!

Holly’s face lights up as Angelica opens her mouth in total surprise.  She squeals as she bounces in excitement before quickly clapping her hands together.  Holly does a sort of celebration dance as Delia’s face sours once more.

Delia:  You both act surprised, no?  Of course I shouldn’t have won after all.  S’ank you for z’e vote of confidence, bitches…

Delia breezes past them, shaking her head as she walks closer to the pink corvette she arrived at ringside in.  She flings the drivers side door open and climbs in, slamming the door behind her, looking in the back seat as Holly and Angelica approach the vehicle.

Delia:  Z’e garments better be in z’e trunk, or you ladies will be walking to Krave!

Holly:  Calm down gurl… You act like we your bitches or something, and that’s not cool.  I would tell you to untwist your panties, but we heard you wasn’t wearin’ any, mmkay?

Delia:  You are my bitches, darling… Did you get z’e clothes, or no?

Holly’s mouth opens in a mix of shock and disgust as she slowly nods her head, rolling her eyes as she sticks the lollipop back in her mouth.  Angelica opens the passenger’s side door and pulls the seat down, getting in the back seat.

Angelica:  Kay, Holly?  You get to ride up front with your majesty of Cunt-oria… I’ve already had my fill.

Holly:  Get that fine ass up front.  I rode here with her, so it’s your turn.

Delia:  Merde! Merde, merde, merde, merde, MERDE!  Get in z’e FUCKING car now, please!

Holly blinks for a moment, her mouth opening again as the lollipop comes falling out of her mouth and shattering on the ground.  Angelica bobs her head from side to side as she looks at Holly as if she had won the battle.  Holly pulls her wig and stocking cap off and throws it at Angelica as she comes around to the passenger’s side door.  She slams the seat up into Angelica’s knees and plops down in the seat.  She pulls her seatbelt on as Delia revs the engine.  She throws it into reverse and then breaks as she skids out, pulling off toward the exit of the garage.  She flies through, coming out without looking either way, making a left turns which causes four cars to come to a screeching halt, honking and screaming at her as she waves them the bird.  Her wig comes flying off as she speeds away from the venue, allowing her long brunette hair to wave behind her.  Angelica sucks on her upper lip for a second before leaning forward toward Delia’s ear.

Angelica:  What could be wrong with Miss Thing tonight?  It sounds like you won your match, and really stuck it to Christia….

Delia flings her hand back, silencing Angelica immediately.  Holly looks interested in this development as she turns the radio down to get a good listen.

Delia:  We will NOT speak his name right now, darling…  I need at least two seconds wis’out talking about that.

Angelica:  Well, we’ve gotta talk about it at some point, honey, because Alex and I almost got canned because you decided to mouth off to the boss.

Delia:  Ohhh, so it’s my fault?  S’ank you for making z’is clear to me, darling… For a moment I s’ought I was defending my friends, not mous’ing off to z’e boss.  I was defending your right to do what I pay you to do and be a manager.  Do you know how to do z’is wis’out blowing someone?

Holly nearly passes out at how nonchalant Delia is with her last comment.  Angelica balls up her fists before losing control and punching Delia in the back of the head.  The car screeches to a stop, causing Angelica to bang her head on the back of Holly’s seat.

Angelica:  FUCK!

Angelica screeches at the top of her lungs before unbuckling her seatbelt.  Delia looks as if she is ready to rip Angelica’s head off, but she sits there patiently.  Angelica climbs out of the car, not even waiting for Holly to let her out.  She nearly trips on her long dress, but walks it off as if she hadn’t missed a step.  She looks around the crowded street honking and swerving around the pink convertible.  She simply starts to walk off, looking back to see Holly sitting in the seat still.  She snubs her nose at the two and walks off as Delia looks over to Holly.

Delia:  Would you like to contribute to z’e conversation?

Holly:  Yes I would, but don’t think I plan on walking up the Broadway in these heels, bitch…  Keep on driving, hunty…

Delia looks at Holly who stays put in her seat, refusing to move an inch.  Delia rolls her eyes and begins driving once more.  She cranks the radio back up, blasting what everyone is surprised to hear from her, Type O Negative’s “(We Were) Electrocute”.  She focuses on the road, paying no mind to the silent treatment from Holly, until Holly finally breaks the short silence.

Holly:  You do know that girl worships the ground you walk on, right?  Before she got to attend the show she met you at in New York, all she could talk about was how brilliant you were.  She was inspired by you to be a better woman and not just some booty call for the boss.

Delia:  She should know better z’an to put people on a pedestal.  Z’ey are never what you s’ink z’ey will be.  If I taught her nos’ing else, I hoped z’at would be z’e lesson to stick.  It’s not my fault.

Holly:  Oh, honey… your tone seems rather pointed, and I’m not Angelica.  I respect your art, but when I look at you off the runway, I’m always thinking “Oooh, that’s a cunt, honey…”  And right now is no different.  I am, and have been, Angelica’s friend for many, many, many years, and even though I’m sure she’s thinking I dumped her to hang with you at the gay clubs tonight, I intend to give you an earful.

Delia’s lip curls into a smirk as she finally softens up a bit.  She turns her head, seeming to pay no attention to the road as Holly flips the radio off on Delia.

Delia:  I would say z’at you have some balls to talk to me like z’at, but it’s not a question.

Holly:  Get cute with some re-recycled Amy Marshall material all you want, baby, coz I’ve got attitude for miles.  The point is that you helped make my friend a better person somehow, even though you’ve got a soul that is more black than Misty’s Loreal hair dye.  I was able to look past your ugly personality for her.  Instead, you treat her like a fucking dog, and I’m done biting my tongue.

Delia:  Oh, I’m sure.  Cut z’e shit and admit z’at you are sore because you can’t believe z’at what I did tonight comes from being a good friend, and not from my own selfish desire to be as abrasive as possible.

Holly rolls her deep brown eyes as she takes her earrings out, placing them in the cup holder between them. She rubs her lips together in frustration before turning to Delia once more.

Holly:  That’s because it wasn’t!  Even Angelica wasn’t blinded enough by your bullshit to believe that you wouldn’t have thrown us under the bus just to cause a stink.  If I was her, I would have made sure your eyes stayed shadowed for a week, and your cheeks, and those lips would have been botoxed for a month.

Delia:  I like you when you talk, you know z’is?  You should do it more often, because z’e Karen Smi’s routine is old.

Holly:  Like your Regina image isn’t?  You know?  Bitch doesn’t suit you very well off the runway, at least when we’re amongst girlfriends…

Delia pulls to the outside of a club with a pink neon sign casting a glow onto the dampened streets.  Holly opens the door as soon as she finished talking and rips off her Barbie gown to reveal a pair of skinny jeans and a black sleeveless shirt.  She pulls out her breast plate and slaps it down on the back seat.

Holly:  Find another fag to hag tonight, honey… Shouldn’t be too hard in this pretentious club afterall…

Still in full drag make up, Holly/Alex turns around and walks past the crowded line and up to the bouncer who immediately recognizes him and lets him through.  Delia sits in the drivers seat, stunned at the confrontations from both of her friends as the car goes idle.  She purses her lips, taking in a deep breath.
[ *Fade* ]


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”I like to see myself as a Queen… a queen in a world full of discord and anarchy.  Don’t mistake this as calling myself useless, though.  I could seize control of the simple-minded as quickly as I wish, but I like discord and anarchy…” –Delia, Darling if you must



The cover of the burn book is in clear focus for a moment before it pans out a little bit.  The afternoon sun glares down on the book as it rests at a 45 degree angle amidst a table set up with fabulous breakfast foods spread out around it.  The foods range from cream cheese krepes with various fruit toppings to Eggs Benedict, to the simplest of foods such as bagels.  To the left of the table is a man dressed in nothing but a low cut apron to show off his hairy, almost flabby chest, and while the camera doesn’t see it, his backside is completely exposed.  No doubt, it is a commentary on the varying forms of the male body and sexuality… that, or Delia has a serious daddy fetish.  He is standing in front of a small omlette pan.  Delia walks into view of the camera on this wide open balcony overlooking Miami Beach.  She takes in the fresh scent of the salty air, seeming to be in a much better mood than previously… or ever before.  Her Monroe-esque hair is protected from the sea breeze by a floppy white hat with dead white roses dried to the color of ashes.  Her eyes are covered in Jackie O style sunglasses.  Her grey lips go with the black and white motif she is aiming for, and they seem to be stuck in a smile, with no signs of changing.  She straightens out her black dress as she takes a seat at the table.  She looks at the spread set out before her, and she licks her lips in anticipation.

Delia:  Dear Raymond, I do hate when company is not on time.  It’s quite rude, no darling?

Raymond, the nearly nude chef, simply nods his head with a polite smile, showing the creases on the outer edges of his eyes.  Delia ruffles his salt and pepper hair in a friendly manner before looking toward the opened doors, watching the wind tussle the sheer white curtains.  She picks up a champagne glass and pours a bit of orange juice into it, topping it off with a generous portion of champagne, allowing it to bubble up to the top of the glass.  She sniffs the glass, allowing the bubbles to tickle her nose before taking a small sip of the mimosa before setting it down in front of her, taking in the delicious smells of the brunch prepared in front of her.  Finally, the curtains fly open and Angelica comes out, looking less than pleased as she folds her arms across her chest.

Angelica:  Okay, so… you brought her here?  That’s got to be the dumbest thing you could do…

Delia:  You are my manager, not my moz’er, and since you insist on staying mad at me, you may be dismissed, darling…

Delia waves Angelica away.  Angelica rolls her eyes and then “politely” (with a dash of sassy sarcastic face thrown in to let us know she isn’t the type of person who acts politely for anybody) holds the curtain open.  Who should emerge from the curtains by Miss Rocky Mountains.  She looks very awkward as she walks out onto the upper balcony, seeing the beautiful background shot, and even more awkward at Delia’s smile.

Delia:  Ms. Mountains!  You’ve made it!

Rocky nods her head politely smiling while keeping her distance from Delia.  Delia picks up a strawberry half and dips it into the creamy white sauce in the center of the fruit dish.  She raises it up quickly and Rocky flinches, only for Delia to take a nibble off of the edge, licking the cream from her lips as she chuckles.

Delia:  Awww… Cherie, please… have a seat.  I promise I won’t bite.

Rocky:  Forgive me if I seem a bit apprehensive, especially since the last time we had an encounter, you powerbombed me into a turnbuckle.  I can imagine a brunch table wouldn’t feel much better.

Delia:  We are all prone to mistakes, darling.  And I forgive you for z’e mistakes you made s’ree weeks ago, if you will forgive me for mine?  As a matter of z’e fact, z’is brunch is an olive branch from me to you, so help yourself.  I promise it isn’t poisoned.

Rocky’s eyes shift underneath her glasses as her wavy black hair dances in the wind.  She bites at her bottom lip before sitting down across from Delia who pours her guest a mimosa of her own.  Rocky nods her head, trying to thank Delia, but only manages to get out a slight squeak.  Delia’s eyes sink as she grabs onto Rocky’s hand.  Rocky jerks a bit in response, and Delia seems rather respectful of this, nodding her head appropriately.

Delia:  It is no surprise z’at you don’t trust me.  Why should you?  I have done nos’ing to prove z’at I am worz’y of trust.  I might have overreacted a bit, and I sincerely apologize for z’is.  I tend to do z’is often, but I am working on z’is.  Even if you do not grant me forgiveness, I would still like to offer you an official, on camera apology, and as a proper guest, you will not leave my home on an empty stomach.

Rocky:  The gesture is very nice, but I’m afraid that I cannot offer you what you seek.  I came here for an interview about your upcoming match where you and Ethan Brody are facing Jessie Salco and Ethan’s tag team partner, Landon Axel.

Delia nods her head, seeming a touch disappointment by Rocky’s disregard for her kind actions.  Fire burns in her eyes, and one could imagine a million different scenarios where Delia might handle this.  Perhaps she might crack the bottle of champagne across Rocky’s head and paint obscenities on her forehead with lipstick?  Or maybe she will knock the Burn Book on the ground and deliver Le Bitch Bomb to the interviewer through the table, or worse yet, off the balcony?  It would not be above Delia to slam Rocky’s face down into the omelette pan, disfiguring her permanently.  What should she do… but give a nod as she picks up a bagel, splitting it in half, gently spreading cream cheese over it, diverting her eyes from Rocky as she speaks.

Delia:  Understood, darling… How selfish of me to expect you to forgive me so easily.  So, I expect you wish to have a word wi’s me in regards to my match?  I tell you what… I will do so under one condition…

She shoots an evil glare across the table with the butter knife gripped firmly in her balled up fist, shaking a bit as she narrows her eyes, puffing her lips out in pure and utter disdain at Rocky.  Rocky gulps and slowly scoots her chair backwards.

Delia: … you simply MUST try one of Raymond’s famous omelettes!

Delia smiles widely, causing Rocky to sigh in relief.  Delia sprinkles a bit of red onion and tomato on top of the cream cheese, bringing one half of the bagel to her lips, taking a bite and moaning from the delicious taste.  Rocky nods her head as Raymond begins beating the eggs quickly.

Rocky:  You are a very opinionated, out-spoken Bombshell, probably more than anyone on the SCW roster, with an ego that rivals “Hot Stuff” Mark Ward’s…

Delia:  S’ank you… I will take z’is as a compliment, even z’ough I caught z’e cattiness in your voice.

Rocky:  And smart as a fox…  Now, you must have some serious doubts as to how this match will go down considering your partner’s partner is his opponent.

Delia smirks in a sarcastic manner, allowing it to fade from her face as quickly as it appeared.  She rolls her eyes before setting the bagel down on the small plate in front of her.

Delia:  Z’e way I see it, Es’an will spend most of his time on z’e outside, because emotions are a liability to me.  I have many s’ings at stake here, between z’e fastest rise to z’e top in SCW history, to a shot at z’e Bombshell Championship, not to mention my deal wi’s Erik Staggs… I will not be embarrassed.

Rocky:  After your debut match, many people are expecting you to drop out of the tournament this round.  Quite frankly, they are surprised that you made it this far.

Delia:  Love me or hate me, I am always good for a surprise.  I surprised the fans when I beat Diamond two weeks ago, in what is probably considered to be z’e upset of z’e week.  I dazzle z’e audience wi’s my artistic expression every week wis’out fail.  What will not be a surprise is when I beat Jessie Salco…

Delia smirks as she brings out a small picture from under the table.  She pulls out a glue stick and looks over to Rocky as she is served her omelette.  She takes a small bite, feeling it practically melt in her mouth.  She is in heaven, and she cannot even comment on Delia’s childish actions.  Delia flips the book open to the next blank page before running the glue stick across the back of the picture quickly.

<img src=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v674/GXWSpikeStaggs/JessieBurnBooksm_zps022082ea.png>


Delia:  Hello Jessie.  I suspect you are watching z’is promo from your hotel room, no?  I mean, it seems as if you never leave z’e hotel room.  But, why would you wi’s z’e constant warm up practices you have z’ere wi’s your boyfriend and any os’er man who is willing to stick his dick inside you?  Oh, excuse me… I forgot about Lizzie Short.  Not z’at I have a problem wi’s such an act, but you are a wrestler, no?  Not a porn star.  At least Amy Marshall has z’is as an excuse for being a slut…

As Delia states this, she presses the picture into the book.  She makes sure it is in there securely as Rocky has a mouth-gasm from the omelette.  Delia pulls out the hot pink sharpie pen and next to the picture, she writes in the school girl manner “Filthy Cumdumpster”.  She stares into the camera as if she is talking directly to Jessie, as if she hadn’t been before.

Delia:  Jessie Salco… a child of z’e American Foster Care system.  I feel bad for you, honestly.  Never to know z’e love of a mère (mother) or a père (father).  Simply passed along.  I am sad for you, Jessie.  I would bet money z’at z’is is why z’e fans love you so much.  It certainly couldn’t be your win/loss record.  It certainly couldn’t be your winning personality; because you remind me of a dear friend of mine from way back when… she’s dead.  But, z’e fans aren’t as sentimental as me.

Delia takes a small nibble from her bagel as she looks back to the table.  She picks up a pair of tongs and brings a krepe over to her plate.  She spoons fresh blackberry jam over it generously, but decides to finish her point before continuing.

Delia:  Z’ey probably just enjoy z’e constant slew of simple sexual innuendos you speak of in your promos, or z’e fact z’at American’s seem to respect people who are loose, drug addict, trailer trash.  Whatever z’e reason is, I promise z’at you will be no match for me, even wi’s my obvious disadvantage in experience, and leadership.  On paper, you should make short work of many people, yet you lose… and lose, and lose and lose, darling!

Delia takes a small sip of her mimosa before folding her hands together on the table, her eyes narrowing in amusement as she cleanses her palat with a small sip of water.

Delia:  Why don’t you step out of the hotel room once in a while and get some fresh air.  Experience z’e world.  Gain a cultured insight into z’e world around you instead of smoking pot and playing Call of Duty Ghost while listening to obscure metal such as Dying Fetus or whatever shock-rock bullshit you claim as your way of life.  Once you’ve cleared your head, z’en maybe you can take tips from z’e former TWO TIME World Heavyweight Champion, Spike Staggs and put z’em to use.  Call me a bitch, but I’m just trying to be helpful here.  I’m tired of facing basic bitches, and having people say z’at I am no good because I haven’t faced z’e top ladies of SCW.  I want you to be better, and I want for you to bring it, honey!

Delia looks over to Rocky who is just finishing up her heavenly omelette, as if begging for more.  Delia wastes no time before pulling out a picture of Landon Axel.  She runs the glue stick across the back of the small photo, pressing it into the book gently.

<img src=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v674/GXWSpikeStaggs/LandonBurnBooksm_zps685c2244.png>


Delia:  Landon Axel… z’e only person who could fuck z’is match up for Es’an and myself…   Because of your presence, Es’an has gone from an asset to a liability.  I am not familiar wi’s your working relationship, but I am not one to take a gamble, as z’ey say.  I prefer to play it safe, which means I plan to see you in action as little as possible.  Which, after your last match wi’s losing z’e Tag Team Championships, your career should s’ank me, honey.

Delia taps the edge of the sharpie pen against the picture of Landon.  She looks into the camera once again, apparently thinking over what she is going to write about her partner’s partner.

Delia:  You are stuck wi’s an abomination of a partner, Landon.  You have nos’ing to gain from progressing in z’e tournament.  Your friend… does.  He stands a chance at winning, and challenging Simon Jones, or whomever z’e flavor of z’e week might be in s’ree weeks.  It is because he is teaming wi’s a winner.  Your partner has a chance at winning z’e SCW Heavyweight Championship, somes’ing z’at former Tag Team Champions seem to do quite often.  One dies off, and one goes big.  No offense to you… well, you know full well I mean offense… but Es’an is z’e one to go big.  He is z’e face of Guns For Hire, while you are nos’ing more z’an a…

Delia flips the pen over in her hand and writes in the same manner as before “Bottom Boy”, wrapping a chain of quickly drawn hearts around this.  She shrugs her shoulders as if to apologize for it.

Delia:  Sorry ‘bout it… But it’s true.  People pay attention to Guns For Hire to see Es’an Brody demolish people.  You are z’e Robin to his Batman.  You might as well be a good friend and stay out of z’is battle, and let your friend reach z’e top, because he never will wi’s you.  I know it hurts to hear, Landon, almost as much as it hurts to say… If I must be z’e Yoko who breaks up z’e Beatles to allow Es’an to reach his true potential, z’en so be it…

Rocky:  Are you saying you want to get between Guns For Hire, and that it is a completely selfless act?

Delia:  You know as well as I do z’at nos’ing I do is completely selfless.  I want to win, and when Es’an is held to his own devices, he will cave over friendship, just like Song and Orchid did last week.  Landon needs to hear z’is, because he can do z’e right s’ing and let his partner advance, and go on to win.  I have no problem being z’e bad guy, I actually enjoy it.  But while my words are not completely selfless, z’ey are not completely selfish eis’er.  Blame me if you must, but Es’an can go to z’e top wis’out z’e dead weight dragging him down.  I will be God Damned if I let it drag me down, z’ough…

Rocky nods her head, seeming to understand Delia’s point, while not completely agreeing.  Delia pushes her fork through the krepe that has been waiting for her long enough.  She takes a bite, savoring the creamy berry flavor.  Rocky pushes her plate away, full as she holds onto her stomach.

Rocky:  Well, it seems that you’ve made your point rather clear here, Delia.  I… I… I think I need to be excused for a…

Rocky scoots the chair out as she quickly gets up from the table.  She turns to dash for the curtains as Delia pulls a small bottle that reads Syrup of Ipecac.

Delia:  You should know one s’ing, Rocky… Never fuck wi’s me, darling.  I always get what I want, and I wanted you to pay for humiliating me through Christian Underwood… Tah tah, darling…

Delia laughs deeply as she raises her hand, cupping it as she slowly waves adieu to Rocky.  She takes one last bite from her krepe as she gets up.  Walking behind Raymond, she gives his bottom a hard slap, grabbing on to give it a shake in a show of reverse chauvinism before sashaying over to the curtains, disappearing behind them.
[ *Fade* ]

20
Climax Control Archives / Kiss My Ass Sin City!
« on: February 21, 2014, 11:58:44 PM »
 
<img src=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v674/GXWSpikeStaggs/2DeliaScene1022314_zps1eb136d3.png>


“Fashion is more than just clothes and make up.  Fashion is a lifestyle, a statement.  I am known for making statements loud and clear.” –Delia, Darling if you must



Today is a culmination of the disgust that Delia has felt since the day Angelica invited her to share culture with the fans of Sin City Wrestling.  It was a disgust that had grown each second she thought about the organization.  This disgust was brought on by the constant praise of SCW throughout the National eWrestling Alliance when she took part in New York Divas Wrestling.  As Delia worked hard to one day move over to the City of Sin, she heard of such “Bombshells” as Misty, Odette Ryder, Amanda Cortez and Laura Jackson who raised the level of competition to new heights.  She would literally dream of gracing the six sided ring, but not until she earned the right.  Through her differences with the National eWrestling Alliance in regards to the stifling of her creativity and her impending departure, she hoped to find her way to the brightest star to ever fall from NeWA.

*SNAP*

Delia found a misguided, wounded Angelica, and the two became the best of friends.  Angelica guaranteed to get Delia into SCW, and she made good on her promise.  Delia’s heart nearly beat through her ribcage, even though it was not exactly what she had hoped for.  A developmental contract based on the interest she could draw with her runway expression.  This was not wrestling, but it paid handsomely.  Meanwhile, the venomous Angelica had started to get to the kind-hearted Delia, filling her head with thoughts of grandeur.  She was a star!

*SNAP*

Delia could draw an audience in better than the greatest match SCW bosses could come up with.  She didn’t even have to break a sweat, as long as she remained sickening and fierce.  She watched as the all-powerful Misty, with horrible make up that made her look like a crack whore from The Crow, was saddled with a sub par Tag Team Championship while a vampire held the top prize, and no one seemed to give a fuck that the Bombshells of SCW were no better than the one-hit wonders of NYDW.  It was an all new hell that haunted her.  She needed to do something, anything… Vomiting on fans, spilling real pigs blood on fans, verbally assaulting the fans, and even attacking the fans garnered no recognition.  The Library was opened on every single Bombshell of SCW via Twitter, where Delia read each and every one of them.  No T, no shade…  Nothing…

*SNAP*

Delia was on a warpath.  She deserved better than this.  She made a move on Amy Marshall, the only one with the lady balls to talk back to Delia.  It almost saddened her to attack the most tenacious Bombshell on the roster, but it had to be done.  Besides, maybe the ass kicking of her life would show her how disturbed her sense of fashion was…

*SNAP*

Delia opens her eyes and simply sighs as the flashing of the cameras captures her standing over Ms. Rocky Mountains.  The booing of the audience didn’t phase her… Okay, that’s a lie.  She loved it.  Delia dusts her hands of as she hooks arms with Angelica and Holly Wood.  The three “ladies” walk to the ropes and exit.  Angelica leans over to Delia once they are on the apron.

Angelica:  That… was sickening, babe.

Holly:  So fierce… I didn’t even expect it.

Delia curls the corner of her mouth into a smile, just enough for them to see.  They walk up the runway and blow out a kiss to the booing audience.  Delia soaks in their hatred and uses it as fuel for herself.  Delia walks backstage, taking her hat off of her head and sliding it under her arm.  She walks over to the refreshment table and picks up a chilled mineral water.  She holds the cap of the bottle out to Holly who raises an eyebrow.

Holly:  Girl, I just got these nails done…

Delia:  As did I, cupcake… Somebody is going to open z’is bottle and it will not be me, mon cheri…

Angelica rolls her eyes and rips the bottle from Delia’s hand, twisting the cap off and tossing it behind her in a huff.  She hands the bottle back to Delia with her lips pursed.

Angelica:  Gawd, you’re such a bitch.

Delia:  And z’is is why you love me, no?

Angelica sighs and then chuckles with a nod of the head.  She picks up a bottle of cranberry juice, twisting the cap off and taking a sip.  Holly reaches up and pulls her wig off gently, followed by the stocking cap.  He reaches in and pulls out a breast plate, whistling as he fans it at his sweaty chest.

Alex:  You two are so lucky that you have real ones.  Girl, nipples need to breath too, kay?

Angelica:  No, YOU are lucky that you can take them off whenever you want, Holly…

Alex:  Bitch the wig is off, ain’t no cameras around, so it’s Alex, kay kay?

Angelica raises her upper lip a bit at the snarky attitude filling her little clique tonight.  She simply flips her hair over her shoulder and holds a hand up as she takes another small sip of her drink.  Delia stands around, observing the backstage workings as if it were the first time she had bothered to pay any attention to it.  She sees the medics running to the curtains to check on the poor Ms. Rocky Mountains.  She sees men and women with clipboards buzzing around like the busy worker bees that they are.  She feels it all for the first time, and she simply takes in a deep breath, closing her eyes once more so that it might all fade away.

When she opens her eyes, she is still in a white trash hell hole, and she realizes that she is contractually bound to it.  The thought makes her sick to her stomach as she, too, removes her wig.  Upon pulling the netted cap off of her head, allowing her thin, almost matted mahogany locks fall down her back, the show is now over.  An interesting thought crosses her mind… it was the first time that she had shown the world a glimpse into her true self, even if it was just a bunch of strangers who were too consumed with themselves to even bother noticing.  Delia notices that her gal pals had disappeared on her, but she knew exactly where to track them down.  She turns to a woman with a clipboard in her hand, and an SCW lanyard around her neck, looking flustered.

Delia:  Excuse me.  Where in z’is hell hole could I find z’e make up table?

The woman stares at Delia as if she had just watched her kill her children in front of her, snarling and shaking her head as she passes Delia by.  Delia’s eyes widen at the affront as she licks at her bottom lip, imagining herself throwing the woman through the concrete wall.  Thankfully, she can tell the difference between a perfume found at the Macy’s cosmetic counter as opposed to an authentic designer fragrance of this current season.  She follows her nose around the corner and down the hallway to spot her friends standing at the mirror, patting at their faces.  Angelica is freshening up while Alex is taking it off completely. Delia walks up to the table and gives Alex a playful shove to the side.

Alex:  Uh, ‘scuse me, mama… You can wait your turn.

Alex snickers as he bumps back into her, not missing a beat.  Delia smiles for the first time since standing in front of a Sin City Wrestling camera.  She looks over at Angelica and gasps, reaching into Angelica’s bag to bring out a black eyeliner pen.

Delia:  Rookie mistakes, darling… You were using charcoal black, when midnight black is z’e only one z’at will not clash wi’s your tone… unless you want to show your greys?

Angelica:  Greys?  Really, bitch?

Angelica snatches the pen from Delia’s hand and begins to define the lines around her eyes.  Delia lines her lips with a pink gloss, rolling it over her lips generously.  Alex pats his lips on a tissue, having taken his make up off in record timing.

Alex:  You girls want to hit up Krave tonight?  After watching Delia bounce that ass, I feel like dropping it dowwwn on the dance floor for all the boys.

Delia:  Such z’e ho, darling…  But yes, let us surround ourselves wi’s z’e most fashionable of queens tonight.  I need some culture in my life.

Alex smirks as he places his fashionable black horn rim glasses over his eyes, adjusting them to perfection before he leans in and kisses Delia on the cheek.  He giggles as he walks off in the opposite direction.  This leaves Angelica and Delia left in silence.  There is an unspoken tension between the two as Deli pulls the pins from her hair, removing the black elastic tie from the tail.  She shakes her hair out a bit before pulling a brush from her bag.  Angelica looks over at Delia, her emerald eyes sparkling as she simply stares.  Delia gently runs the brush through her medium brown hair, keeping her eyes on the mirror.

Delia:  Is z’ere somes’ing wrong, or will you just stares at me all night?  Speak now, darling, or forever hold your peace…

Angelica bites on her bottom lip as she takes in a deep breath.  She pulls a fashionable barrette from her hair and places the sparkling piece down on the make up table.  She runs her fingers through her hair as she looks back to the mirror.

Angelica:  I could ask you the same question, really.  You have been a total beyotch to me all night.  I suddenly went from being your bestest friend to your *air quotes* assistant.  It’s kind of demeaning, honestly…

Delia:  You have no nerve, Angie.  How do you expect to be taken seriously as an artist of z’e fashion world?  I am a little cold to you, and you take it personally?

Angelica:  Oh, yeah… I must be extra sensitive if I got the impression that being a bitch to me, treating me like a dog should be taken personally.  My bad…

Angelica rolls her eyes again as she lets her hair down.  She shakes it out, letting it fall where it may as if a nod to her former persona.  She slowly begins gathering her things, but doing so in an impatient manner so to make the silence stick to Delia.

Delia:  Did it ever occur to you, mon ami, z’at maybe I have somes’ing on my mind?  A distraction if you will?  Maybe I take both of my careers very serious, and I still don’t know what awaits me next week, and z’is makes me nervous?

Angelica:  Awww, let’s break open some Hagen Daas and watch 27 Dresses and cry it out… That’s so lame.  We are adults, and I am your friend.  Instead of treating me like a dog, you could… I don’t know… come to me and talk about it?  Or does that take too much of the mystery away from you?

Delia:  Yes, maybe it would. And Hagen Daas?  Just s’ink of z’e calories, darling!

Angelica chuckles a bit as Delia nudges her with her shoulder.  Delia seems to have gotten the full effect she wanted with her hair, given the primitive brush.  Angelica fusses with her bag a bit more as Delia leans against the table, snarling at a coordinator who comes by.

Delia:  I wish only to do my best to make an impact here.  But, what if I go against one of z’ese losers who I trashed, which was almost all of z’em, and z’ey beat me?  Do you know how embarrassing z’at would be?

Angelica:  Honey, you are fierce.  None of these girls can stand up to you.  It doesn’t matter who you go up against, because you are going to turn, it, out!  Do not let anyone tell you otherwise, because they are just haters.  If you go against Amy Marshall, then show the world that you can kick her ass inside of the ring, just as good as outside of it.  If it’s somebody else, then show them up too.

Delia smiles as she looks around at the people clearing out for the next match up.  She reaches into her bag and pulls out a small pair of wire framed glasses, placing them on her face when she is sure that no one is paying her any mind.

Delia:  I must admit z’at I am nervous still, but you helped me, mon ami.  You must forgive me if I am still getting used to z’e idea of having a best friend, even two.  I was always alone in Miami, and even in Paris.  Girl talk is not my forte, darling.  I will try to be better wi’s z’is from now on… Now let’s go shake our derriere’s like sluts in front of a bunch of gay men, oui?

Angelica smiles as she looks over to Delia, trying to contain her excitement.  She gives one single nod of her head as her eyes sparkle even brighter in the light.

Angelica: Uhhh, yes please?!

She clasps hands with Delia, taking her bag in her free hand, holding it closely to her chest.  Delia does the same as the duo talk indistinctly as they walk off down the hallway in the direction that Alex had disappeared to.  He emerges from the “Ladies Room” door, dressed in a black fedora hat, white t-shirt, black faux blazer and a pair of skinny jeans.  The three of them disappear down the hallway as if they were walking the runway all over again.
[ *Fade* ]


<img src=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v674/GXWSpikeStaggs/2DeliaScene2022314_zps6445d605.png>


”Authority only means something if you allow it to mean something.  Otherwise, they are only a group of people with a god complex.  Should we truly respect this?” –Delia, Darling if you must



Delia’s doe-like eyes stare through the glass door leading into Sin City Wrestling’s office building.  She had imagined with a pocket as deep as “Hot Stuff” Mark Ward’s, there would be something more to stare at than what you would expect at a call center.  There is nothing to the dark orange walls other than the SCW banner hanging above an office desk.  No soothing shrubbery or water fountain to take the sting off of the poor choices with the interior decorating.  Noting but a small table that offers cheap donuts off in the corner.  Delia had never been bothered to come to the headquarters before, as Erik Staggs had presented her contracts to her in person at all showings.  She realized that expectations were usually a letdown, and she could barely stomach the idea of entering the doors and suffering the embarrassment of being associated with this.  But alas, it had been too long of a stare to deny her relation to the company any longer.  She looks back to Angelica who doesn’t seem to grasp the concept of why Delia wouldn’t just walk inside.

Angelica:  What’s wrong?  We timed it so that we would be fashionably late, but now we’re starting to run off into the ignorantly late zone…

Delia:  Z’e orange hurts my eyes.  It is also embarrassing.  We will call Erik and have him meet us at z’e Japanese Bistro down z’e street, no?

Angelica:  Uhh, that might have worked like… an hour ago, but it’s too late now, and Erik isn’t very understanding of things…

Delia considers bringing up how she got Delia a job in Sin City Wrestling, but she decides that it would be inappropriate for friendly conversation.  She grunts and turns her back to the door.

Delia: No… I don’t want to go in z’ere…

Angelica:  But… look at the girl at the desk.  Somebody has got to tell her that jeggings belong in the 80’s along with that denim mini skirt…

Delia:  Where?!

Delia looks at the lady at the desk, seeing nothing of the sort in her view.  She actually sees a woman who has done well for herself on a secretary’s budget.  She can’t help but notice the perfectly coordinated light pink blouse that matches her lip liner, black skirt, and designer pumps.  She pushes her way through the door in child-like wonderment as Angelica smiles in a sly manner.  Delia walks right up to the desk, looking for the name of this woman to find a nameplate that reads Julie Smith.

Julie:  Welcome to Sin City Wrestling Headquarters, how may I…?

Delia:  Julia, darling… I must give you a hug because you are z’e first person I have encountered in Las Vegas that knows style, and I never want to let you out of my sight…

Julie chuckles as Delia leans over and caresses her.  The chuckle turns uncomfortable as Delia finally lets her go.  Julie flips the page on her planning book in front of her, ready to ask for her name when she recognizes the newest blonde Bombshell.

Julie:  Thank you, Ms. Delia…  I’ve been taking notes from you, I admit.  I wouldn’t want you slamming my head through the donut table…

Delia looks to Angelica and lets out a loud, hearty chuckle, waving at Julie as if she were talking nonsense.  Angelica giggles as Delia tries her best to stifle the laughter.

Delia:  No… no, darling… I wouldn’t slam you through anys’ing less z’an Coquilles St. Jaques and profiteroles in z’at outfit…  But no, I am here to see Erik Staggs.  I am in z’e book if you must knw…

Julie:  Yes, the meeting was fifteen minutes ago, and Erik has set out for his lunch break, and…

Delia:  Z’en we will wait in z’e office…

Julie:  But…

Delia waits no longer as she walks off down the hallway to Julie’s left.  Angelica walks along with her, treading lightly in her heels so not to trip as she tries to catch up to Delia.  Delia scans the five doors on each side of her to find one that reads “Erik Staggs – Head of Talent Relations”.  She opens the door quickly to find Erik sitting at his desk with two small and one medium sized containers, and the smell of cheap teriyaki sauce filling the air.  He looks up, a pair of chop sticks at his lips as he narrows his eyes at Delia.

Erik:  Oh how rude of me.  Sorry I was almost a half hour late to the meeting I had scheduled with you… Oh, wait… that was you…

Delia:  Come now, Erik.  It was no more than… fifteen… twenty minutes late at most.  Fashionably late.  Now, on the matter of…

Erik sucks in a dangling noodle, chewing it as he rolls his eyes and then lets his food show as his jaw drops.

Erik:  Maybe I wasn’t clear before, but get the fuck out of my office so I can finish my Vince’s and…

Delia:  Ha!  Vince’s?  It smells like Tao’s?  I want to address z’e issue of z’is Blast From z’e Past Tourney.  I was s’inking… Put Vixen wi’s Es’an, Orchid wi’s Jamie Dean, and I will team wi’s Ben Jordan. Oh, and I will forgive your faux pas, yes?

Erik snorts as he continues to chew his food.  He swallows it down and then looks to Angelica as if to ask if Delia were serious.

Erik:  No!  How about Vixen teams with Jamie Dean and you get he hell out of my office?  Will that work for you?

Delia:  Okay, okay… I will accept facing Vixen and Jamie Dean wi’s Ben Jordan as my partner…

Erik:  Look, you are teaming with “Es’an Brody”, and I’m going to enjoy my food without you babbling in my ear like we were equals.

Delia purses her lips angrily as she pulls out a seat in front of Erik’s desk.  She politely sits down and crosses her legs as she stares at Erik, who slowly chews his food.  The two of them engage in what seems to be a never ending stare down.

Delia:  You are nos’ing more z’an a puppet for Mark Ward and Christian Underwood, same as any of us.  Z’e only difference is z’at you sit behind a desk and listen to us bitch at you.  We are equals at best, Mr. Staggs.  We bo’s know z’at you will do as I tell you, because I have an offer you cannot refuse…

Erik opens his mouth, a piece of noodle falling from his lips as he offers her a hearty chuckle.  Erik looks to Angelica as he can’t control his laughter, pointing to Delia as his eyes scrunch up in pure amusement.

Delia:  Z’is is no laughing matter, Erik… I refuse to be teamed wi’s z’e likes of Es’an Brody to face a witch doctor and a man who only shows his face around here when it is convenient for him.  It is a losing situation for me, and…

Erik’s laughter erupts all over again as Angelica growls behind Delia.  She narrows her eyes at Erik and places a hand on Delia’s shoulder.  She stares right at Erik as she speaks to her associate.

Angelica:  Come on, Delia… We are obviously getting nowhere with him.  Let me go work my magic on Mark…

Erik:  Oh yeah?  Haha! You… you… *snort* you really think Mark is going to fall for your line of bullshit?  You made it clear that you aren’t his whore anymore, so he’s done with you.  Face it, I’m the only bridge your sweet asses have around here.  And this snotty little tart here ruined any wiggle room you might have had.

Delia:  I refuse to sit here and be insulted like z’is.  Angie, let’s go…

Erik licks his lips playfully before taking another bite of teriyaki chicken.  He munches on it, smiling with a sparkle in his eyes as he watches Delia uncross her legs, steadying herself to stand up.

Erik:  Attitude doesn’t intimidate me, sweet cheeks… so don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.

Delia:  You are disgusting like z’e swine, Erik…  Typical American pig…

Erik:  Yep!  Oh… give my best to Ethan, will you?  Be sure to let him know that you are the only one who thinks he’s a piece of shit, Deelz…

Delia mutters under her breath in French as she flings her bag over her shoulder.  She gives Erik one last look before pausing.  The arrogance on his face and his ability to challenge her seems to give her a change of heart.  She nibbles on her lower lip as she studies Erik’s chiseled, slightly aged face and something almost seems to force her back in her chair fully.

Delia:  You are used to getting what you want, no?  Women pushing z’ere tits in your face to get what z’ey want?  I tell you what, Erik… I refuse to stoop to such a level to get what I want.  Instead, I will go to z’e ring next Sunday, and I will take down z’e cheap Voodoo Queen who is best friends wi’s your champion.  I will embarrass her, and when I carry Es’an Brody to z’e top, I will redeem my prize of a shot at any Bombshell title of my choosing… and I will embarrass Gos’ika too.  Z’en, when I am at z’e top of Bombshell Division, you will bow down and kiss my boot, yes?

Erik rolls his eyes once more and looks to Angelica who simply nods her head up and down slowly, a wicked sort of grin coming over her face.  He chuckles as he fumbles through his desk.  He pulls out a piece of paper and jots down a few notes quickly, leaving Delia to wonder.

Erik:  Okay… if you are lucky enough to win the tournament, AND the Bombshell Championship, I will kiss your boot.  But if you fail at any juncture of your quest, then you will get down on your knees, and kiss my pale, milky white ass!  In the middle of the ring.

Erik slides the piece of paper down across the desk toward Delia.  Angelica leans over her shoulder as both ladies examine the wording of the draft and give each other a quick nod of acceptance.  Delia slides the paper back over to Erik.

Delia:  Let us make it a fair trade… When I win z’e Bombshell Championship, you will kiss my boot in z’e middle of z’e ring.  Make an addendum and I will agree.

Erik chuckles as he jots down the addendum and slides it across the desk to Delia who smiles and reaches her hand across Erik’s desk.  He grips her hand and gives it a shake before planting a tender kiss on top of her hand.

Erik:  Looks like we’ve got ourselves a deal, Deelz!  Haha! Now get the hell out of my office so I can finish my lunch before I have to deal with more jackasses trying to weasel out of their Blast From the Past partnerships…

Delia smirks as she looks up to Angelica, having found the motivation she needed to get through this horrible debut match.  She stands up from her seat and politely pushes it in underneath his desk.  Delia turns to the door as her and Angelica start to walk out.  Erik clears his throat as soon as Delia’s hand touches the door knob.  She turns around as Erik rises from his desk, adjusting his pants, pulling them up a bit as he swallows his last bite.

Erik:  Oh, in case you wanted a preview…

Erik turns around and lifts his suit jacket up to show off his backside through tightened pants.  He chuckles as Delia acts as if she will gag.  Angelica crinkles her nose in disgust as the two ladies quickly exit the office, slamming the door behind them.  They look to each other and mutter one simple word after a unified sigh.

Unison:  Gross…

They turn their attention toward the secretary desk up front and they walk in that direction with fire burning in both of their eyes.
[ *Fade* ]


<img src=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v674/GXWSpikeStaggs/000BurnBook_zps09700b09.png>


”A proper insult is just a friendly reminder that there is room for improvement… Some just need more than others…” –Delia, Darling if you must



The Burn Book is a healthy outlet for the meanest of girls to let off steam when they have a bone to pick with someone.  It is a tradition that has gone through many cliques, and some have even been taken down by such a book.  However, Sin City Wrestling’s own Mean Girls refuse to keep their feelings confined to a book.  The book is simply a vessel for focusing their aggressions on any particular person, forever documenting their distaste for their foe, immortalizing even the most mundane of people.

For this edition of The Burn Book, we are invited to a sleep over with Delia, Angelica, and Alex “Holly Wood” Jeffries, and a special guest for the occasion.  A special occasion calls for special treatment, and these ladies know how to get things kicked off in style.  We fade in to see a spacious room with a king size bed as the centerpiece.  The railing reaches up to the vaulted ceiling, sheer pink sheets tangled around the posts and draped over the sides to conceal the identity of their special guest.  Alex walks through the door first, by himself as he walks across the wide open floor dressed in a purple tank top with fire engine red Aussie Bum underwear and white sweat socks up to his knees with two red stripes near the top.  He struts along to the radio with a devilish smirk on his face.  He presses the power button and hooks an iPod to it as he turns around to lean against the dresser. “Hello Kitty” by Avril Lavigne plays over the speakers loudly as his chocolate brown eyes study the dooway from whence he came from.

Alex:  Hello Kitties…

Alex fans his paw out as he licks his lips in wonderment.  This is when Angelica walks through the door in a long night gown with “Hello Kitty” printed all over it.  She has it buttoned only down to her navel.  She holds it back to reveal her scandalously small pink Hello Kitty underwear.  Angelica smirks as she struts across the floor and over to Alex, raising her eyebrows playfully before shoving him out of the way.  She thumbs through the iPod, finding exactly what she is looking for.  She presses play, changing the tone over quickly as “Lollirot” plays.

Angelica:  We have got a real blast from the past partying with us tonight, don’t we?

Alex:  Rawwwwr!

This is when Delia walks into the room, her hair done in platinum blonde with blue streaks in the front.  The hair hands down over a black tank top and tight black hotpants that sport a pyramid studded belt at the top, and a pair of combat boots on.  She skips  across the floor gently to meet up with Angelica and Alex.  As she does, she bats her eyelashes at the camera, showing off an Egyptian eyeliner job that would make Amy Marshall envious, with mascara smeared down her cheeks.

Delia:  Put your paws up, children... and welcome to Z’e Burn Book segment….  Z’e crasiest Bombshell to ever grace an SCW ring…  please welcome…

”HELLLLAS!!!”

What?  Were you expecting someone else?  Someone like… Kittie?  Ewwwwww!  No way!  Our mystery guest, revealed as Michelle Andretti, is dressed in an oversized white generic sports tee with navy blue sleeves and collar reading “08” on the front, and white socks running up to her knees much like Alex’s, only navy blue stripes.  Her hair is up in several small tails leading back.  Her lips are a dark purple to match her outfit, with white smoky eye make up.  She giggles as the three Mean Girls come to her, engaging in a group hug that would be every teenage boy’s wet dream (if Alex weren’t there…)  Michelle scoots back on the bed as Delia and Alex crawl into the king sized bed next to her.  Angelica smirks deviously as she fumbles through the book shelf in the corner of the room.  She pulls out a pink book with the words “Burn Book” on the cover, in a ransom note style font and various things scribbled on the cover.  She turns it around and joins in with the giggling as she seductively walks toward the bed.  She climbs in as the ladies adjust themselves to form a half circle.

Angelica:  For the fans of the original Mean Girls… Veronica Taylor and I used to do a segment called “The Burn Book” where we would kindly inform our opponents of their shortcomings.  You know, the things that everyone was thinking… but didn’t have the balls to say?  Well, why let a good thing go to waste?

Angelica pouts her lips out, but her eyes sparkle with devious intentions.  She opens the book, thumbing through a few pages to show off former Burn Book Victims such as Kittie, Trish Newborn, and Bianca Solderini.  She comes to a blank page and then sets the book down in the middle of the bed as Delia stares down excitedly.

Alex:  Ugh… can we get down to throwin’ shade at these bitches already?  I’m ready to break into the Mango-rrrrrriiiiiitaaaaa’s!

Michelle:  Mango?  I’m allergic to those.  I had a few of those once and I swear, I got dizzy and blacked out, waking up to a strange man in the morning.

The giggling comes to a halt as Delia, Alex, and Angelica stop and look over at Michelle as if they had been dumbstruck.  Michelle looks around at the others with a worried expression.

Alex:  Honey… either you can’t handle your liquor, or you got roofied, sweetheart.

Michelle:  The club doesn’t have roof access, and I woke up in my bed, not on top of my house…

Angelica:  Yeah….. so… Delia, darling… do you have anything you would like to say about your opponents for this week?

Delia has her legs crossed as she flips the wig hair over her shoulders.  She is still stuck on Michelle’s comments, blinking excessively at her as Angelica snaps her fingers.  Delia holds her hand up at Angelica while she processes the stupidity of their house guest.  She slowly turns to Angelica, taking a few more blinks before shaking it out of her head.

Delia:  I have opponents z’is week?  I s’ought z’at z’e bosses pulled some loser wannabe fans from z’e audience and tossed z’eir names against Es’an Brody and myself.

Angelica:  No, Derek Thorne was almost a big deal before he disappeared like… a year ago or something.  He’s kinda hot too… And Diamond is the chick that walks around with Gothika.

Delia:  I know, honey… it was sarcasm.  Diamond is z’e woman who has wrestled all of one match here?  She lost to Emma Rose who was humiliated by Roxi Johnson just last week, no?  And Roxi Johnson is z’e woman who cannot beat Gos’ika.  Z’e unending bullshit list of people who cannot beat one another could continue, but I am not bored wi’s z’is…

Delia shoots Angelica a deadly look as Michelle and Alex start playing some form of patty cake.  Delia points her fingers like a pistol at her temple, cocking her thumb back before Angelica smacks her knee, mouthing “You’re so bad…”  She then nudges the burn book closer to her along with a picture of Diamond and a pink sharpie pen.  Doing her best Gretchen Wieners hair flip/smirk impression, she says…

Angelica:  Let it out, honey…

Delia pulls the picture forward.  She takes a glue stick and smears it viciously across the back of the picture and then she slides it onto the blank page.  She gently runs her finger around the edges of the picture, studying it closely in silence with the Alex and Michelle giggling like a pair of school girls behind her.  She then draws an “X” over Diamond’s face with her fingers.

<img src=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v674/GXWSpikeStaggs/DiamondBurnBooksm_zps9a25bf0f.png>


Delia:  Z’ey say z’at diamond’s are a girl’s best friend.  You can never go wrong wi’s tz’em, I hear.  Diamonds are a way to distinguish z’e unspoken caste system of America.  Z’e rich… z’e famous… z’e important people have z’e biggest diamonds.  Diamonds represent social status, and it is a bold name to give ones self.  It leaves a lot of expectations… and in your case, z’ey leave a lot of unmet expectations…

Delia runs her eyes over the picture, the evil smirk on her face disappearing as she gets even more serious with what she is about to say.  She runs her pointed tongue over her bottom lip ever so slowly before biting onto it.  Angelica nudges her, silently giving her the okay to proceed.

Delia:  Diamond… honey… you are nos’ing but a coward.  You have z’e powers z’at be on your side.  A voodoo priestess, a witch doctor straight out of New Orleans, z’e closest resemblance to my homeland in America… What poetic justice, honey… Z’e most French town in z’e United States, hidden by swampland, crime, and general filth.  You, honey… you are beautiful enough to get anys’ing you want in z’is world.  But you are stupid.  You decide to walk around wi’s z’e vampire and z’e bearded lady, Darknyss.  Out of anyone here, you choose to be associated wi’s z’e biggest joke of a stable?  I would have more respect for you if you went wi’s z’e New X-Tremes.  At least you have z’e Heavyweight Champion, and a multi-time World Heavyweight Champion to train you.  What do you have wi’s Fallen?

Angelica:  Well, she’s got the Bombshell Champion.  Longest reigning too…

Delia:  It means nos’ing when z’e division is at z’e weakest it has ever been, darling…  Diamond, you are gorgeous, but you are damned to spend eternity wi’s z’e best of z’e worst.  Do you really s’ink you will get anywhere like z’is?  If you don’t, z’en you are settling, and I do not respect z’is.  If you do, z’en you are z’e stupidest Bombshell signed to Sin City, darling, and even I have given you too much credit.  You are nos’ing more z’an a loser.

With this, Delia pulls the cap off of her pen and she writes one word next to Diamond’s picture in big letters.  “L-O-S-E-R !”  She dot’s the exclamation point with force that nearly pushes through to the next page.  She sets the pen down in front of her as she looks directly into the camera.

Delia:  I will make you a one time offer, sweetheart.  Perhaps it is out of pity for you.  Perhaps it is because I see raw potential in you.  Or, perhaps I am not z’e stone cold bitch z’at everyone seems to s’ink I am.  I want to offer you a spot wi’s z’e Mean Girls, darling.

Angelica’s eyes widen as she looks at Delia.  Delia holds a hand out toward Angelica, looking out of the corner of her eye to let her know that she is aware of what she is doing.  Alex stops dead in his tracks and looks right at Delia too.

Alex:  WHAT?!  Ohhh girl, you done lost it, kay?

Delia:  You can rise to z’e top.  You can even continue cast your spells and hexes.  You only have to change one s’ing, darling.  Change your association wi’s z’e losers z’at you walk around wi’s.  Ditch Darknyss… Gos’ika… Jeremiah Hardin… Leave z’em behind and look for your future, because we are rising stars, honey…  Openly defy z’em, and you can come to us, no questions asked.  Until z’en, you will remain an afters’ought to z’e masses, and even to your “best friends”.  If you are content being treated in z’is manner, z’en I cannot help you.  You are z’e lost cause as z’ey say… Such a shame… it is a real waste of talent and beauty…

Michelle:  I swear she looks like my girl, Lyrique… Par-tay Gurrrrlz!

Delia:  Please, shut your mou’s, darling.  You are giving me a headache…

Michelle closes her mouth, but continues to talk, though quite obviously no one understands her… except Alex, who shouts “I KNOW!”  Delia rolls her eyes as Angelica scoots closer, placing her hand under the book.  She studies Delia’s handiwork with a smile before she starts to close it.  Delia places her hand between the pages as the book closes on top of it.  Angelica looks confused as Delia re-opens the book.

Delia:  Ah, ah, ah sweetheart.  I am not finished.  I don’t have just one opponent z’is week.  I have two…

Angelica:  But you can’t even touch him or you will be fired!

Delia:  Such a shame… wi’s abs like z’at… But why should I not mention him?  Just because I can’t lay a finger on him, does not mean I cannot get inside of his head, no?

Angelica shrugs her shoulders as Delia slides a picture from her cleavage.  She holds it out to show it off to Angelica first, causing her to swoon in response.  Delia turns it back to herself, trying to fight the fact that she swoons a bit herself with those piercing blue eyes, and the retro feathered hair that seems unique and original on him.  Her lip quivers for a moment before she turns it over for the camera to see.

<img src=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v674/GXWSpikeStaggs/DerekBurnBooksm_zps2c476070.png>


She runs a glue stick over the back of the picture slowly as if she were staring through the paper.  She carefully centers the picture on the blank page next to Diamond before gently tracing his name over the photo.  She runs her black manicured nails over the page, ensuring the picture is firmly in place, but she runs them over his lips one last time before darting her dark eyes at the camera.

Delia:  Ohhh, Derek… You gorgeous, gorgeous man… While I cannot face you one on one… an encounter neis’er of us would ever forget… I know z’at you will be a great distraction to me.  Perhaps it is because you are one of few z’at is not from z’is disgusting cesspool we find ourselves in.  Seeing your milky white skin shimmer in z’e light of z’e ring could be my downfall.  I hope your beautiful face can forgive me for what I am about to do… After all, it is just business.

Delia winks at him, her lips curling up into a devious smile that has come to be her usual expression.  She leans back a bit, as if to give Derek a vulnerable view of her body to tempt him, or perhaps as a silent offering for his forgiveness.

Delia:  I recently found myself on a ski trip in Sweden, and should it be chance z’at I found my way to your home town?  Sheer coincidence, I assure you.  I made a few friends z’ere, and it turns out I found someone who knew you all too well, darling… If not for her, I would know nos’ing of you beyond your pretty boy face, and would have assumed Holly Wood was more your type of gal… I admit I was envious when she told me what you were capable of, if you know what I refer to?  Do you know who I am talking about yet, Derek?

Delia rolls her shoulders back, pushing out her ample bosom toward the camera in her mock Kittie outfit.  Her platinum blonde hair with blue lowlights finds itself tracing her chest as she leans back on her elbows, a sly look upon her face.

Delia:  What was her name?  Melissa?  Clarissa?  Some’sing –issa… Ohhh, z’at is right.  Lovisa.  Gorgeous girl, and so… nice?  Swedish charm.  I could tell z’at you two would make a good couple, until I heard z’at you were not?  Shame, shame, but I had hope again!  Until I found out what kind of man you really are, Thorne.  Prideful.  Shameful.  Cowardly.  Yet, still you are somehow arrogant on top of it all?  Somehow, you became z’e ugliest man I had ever fantasized about in my entire life…

Alex:  Oh my gawd, girl… You’re such a bitch!

Michelle keeps her lips together as she tries to mutter her famous “Cha!” to agree with Alex.  Angelica gives her a proud smile, but Delia barely acknowledges it, because she is nowhere near finished with Derek yet.

Delia:  You are wor’s nos’ing but a fuck at best, darling…  And from what I hear, I would be bored to dea’s because you….

Delia pulls the cap off of the hot pink Sharpie pen.  Next to the picture of Derek Thorne, she draws an estimated ruler leading to three inches.  Underneath the ruler, she writes “Has a small penis…”  Angelica nearly chokes of nothing when she laughs.  Alex looks over her shoulder and groans in displeasure.  He leans back and pouts as Michelle looks confused.

Delia:  As someone who is so dark and brooding, I would expect you to make up for it wi’s passion, even rage.  But no, you are z’e type to put on Michael Buble and light candles, and after thirty seconds of sweaty effort, you collapse and cry while she pats your back and tells you it will all be okay.  Z’e poor girl had no idea what an orgasm was until I told her of it.  If your bedroom performance is any indication, Es’an Brody should have no problem beating you if you peak at roughly a half of a minute.

Angelica:  Ohhh, this is hawt… I can’t wait to watch.

Delia:  Oh, darling… it won’t be z’at impressive, I’m sure.  Z’e only s’ing z’at will impress is when Es’an and I destroy z’ese two and advance to z’e quarterfinals.  But, being z’e charitable one I am, I have purchased a front row seat for z’e action.

Alex:  But we won’t need them.  We’ll be at ringside with you, hon…

Delia looks back at Alex and blows him a soft kiss.  He catches it from thin air and gently pats it onto his cheek.  Delia smiles sweetly for a second before turning back to the camera, letting the look linger for a moment.

Delia: It isn’t for you two darlings… It’s for Lovisa.  I am reuniting z’ese two lovebirds.  But, z’e bitch side of me wants her to see what a loser he is so z’at she can move on and find herself a real man.  I have a heart of gold, with an inscription that reads “Bitch” on it.  I welcome Derek to prove me wrong, but we all know he will just prove a stepping stone to Es’an and I to Round 2 of z’is tournament, and z’en he will go back to z’e rock he crawled from under and hide until he finds his balls once again.

Alex:  Ohhhh the shade of it all!

Delia:  What?  It’s “T” time, darling, and I’m serving it up by z’e kilogram…

Michelle:  I don’t get it…

Delia:  Of course you don’t.  You’re just here for shock value and to look gorgeous, darling…

Michelle blinks her eyes for a second before nodding her head in approval.  She leans back and sits still other than trying to make herself appear more attractive, trying out different poses.  Delia turns her attention back to the camera once more, closing the book at her side and pushing it away.

Delia:  Diamond and Derek are not my only concerns z’is week.  Z’ere is z’e matter of Es’an Brody…  I am supposed to trust you, and “trust” is not somes’ing I afford to many people.  Z’is week, I haven’t much choice, now do I?  I am supposed to count on you to be z’ere when I need a moment away from beating z’e living shit out of Diamond.  Can I “trust” you Es’an?

Delia leans up, allowing her long hair to cover herself up a bit so not to tempt her tag team partner this week.  She closes her eyes as if to deeply contemplate one final question before bringing the question aloud.

Delia:  I am not sure, but z’is begs z’e question of your trust in me.  Is it possible to trust me, Es’an?  I am, afterall, a woman who has lured women from z’e audience into z’e ring, only to beat z’em down.  Promises of designer labels and make up tips ending up wi’s z’em on z’e ground, begging me to stop beating z’em up.  People wonder if I can be trusted when I make a promise.  Let me tell you somes’ing… Sarah got her hideous Louis Vuitton dress.  Lisa got her make up tips, but it came at a price for z’em.  I kept my promises, Es’an.  I am a woman of my word.  I am honorable, and I can be trusted.  Just be careful of what you wish for.  If you wish for us to team togez’er and win z’is tournament as an unstoppable force z’at ever person in z’is tournament should fear facing, z’en your wish will be granted.  If you wish for a team z’at works so closely toge’zer z’at z’ey soon become blinded by their partnership, and z’ey fuck like wild animals in a culmination of sweat, fury, and hard work… z’en you will receive a knee to z’e testicles for your troubles.

Delia shrugs her shoulders as she stares deep into the camera, almost as if waiting for a response from Ethan right then and there.  She waits a moment before taking in a deep breath.

Delia:  I am not here for a fuck.  I am not here to make friends.  I am not here to get over wi’s z’e fans.  I am not here for romance, or to get knocked up.  I am here to win.  I am here to dominate.  I am here to win titles, and look fabulous doing so.  After z’e tournament, we will not be lovers, or friends, or even acquaintances.  At best, I will acknowledge you wi’s a nod for what we accomplished together.  At best, you will not find your picture in z’e Burn Book.

Delia picks up the pink book and holds it up for Ethan to take a good look at.  She tosses it to the side of the bed as she sits up even more, leveling with Ethan is if he were there.

Delia:  I didn’t ask to be teamed wi’s you, Es’an.  I did not ask to be in z’is tournament.  I will not back down from any challenge, and it just so happens z’at we must work togez’er for me to win.  I am not known for playing nice, but it is my promise to you, z’at as long as you play nice, z’en I will too.  Cross my heart, and hope to die… stick a needle in my eye…

Delia chuckles as she crawls back in the bed, lowered down on her knees, sitting on her feet as she offers one last wink to the camera.

Delia:  I look forward to debuting in a successful match.  I look forward to watching Diamond and Derek S’orne fail in yet anoz’er attempt to be relevant.  Most of all, I look forward to watching the brutality z’at Es’an and I bo’s will bring to z’e ring on Sunday… Good luck Derek and Diamond, because you are definitely going to need it…

Delia looks deep into the camera once more, pressing the palm of her hand against her lips.  She stares with her eyes dark as night before kissing her hand and bringing it forward, giving a soft, gently blow that resonates deep within the viewer.  She turns around with a pillow in hand and smacks it against Alex’s face.  Alex looks shocked, but says nothing as he lifts a pillow off of the bed and smacks her back.  Angelica giggles as she picks a pillow up and smacks Delia with it.  Meanwhile, Michelle continues making sultry eyes at the camera, trying her best to look sexy while the others scream “PILLOW FIGGGGHT!!!”
[ *End Feed and Fade* ]

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