"In the land of Gods and monsters, I was an angel living in the Garden of Evil. Screwed up, scared, doing anything that I needed. Shining like a fiery beacon." -Lana Del Rey
It's so hazy here, where ever "here" is... Os'er than my time at z'e River Styxx, I have been unable to see anys'ing clearly. I found myself floating s'rough a fog, confused and afraid. I'm still not completely sure of what is going on, but I have come to terms wi's z'e fact z'at I am dead. Z'e entire world will weep, and I am very sorry for such a tragic loss. Delia Darling was just... for lack of better words... amazing. She could do it all. She could burn up a runway. She could ruin any wrestlers career wi's so much as a blink of an eye. She was so nice, and understanding. She was z'e epitome of what a lady should be... of what a Bombshell should be. Gone in z'e blink of an eye. No greater tragedy had ever existed. The potential had all but gone, z'ouhg. For I had stood up to Hades and earned his respect, and his blessing to dwell z'e underworld, free of consequence. Determination glows wis'in me as I search for som way... any way... out of here. I owe it to z'e world to make a return. Z'ey need someone such as myself to look up to... My gift to z'e world is my never ending life...
The dust blows around a glowing blue light as the wind whistles through the land of skeletons and dead remnants of trees, dried up, and breaking apart in the harsh wind. Across what was once a vast lake, reduced now to a murky, muddy puddle with empty turtle shells and bones of various marine life, there is a black wrought iron gate where the light approaches. The light reaches it, and as we slowly pan in, we see the white robe of Delia Darling blowing in the wind. Her chest is now seen as the source of the blue light, her life force changed, and glowing stronger and brighter now as she places her hand on the gate. She pushes on it, but it doesn't budge. However, as her hands rest on the gate, she feels a sizzling pain shoot through her hand. She hisses as she retracts them. It isn't until now that she realizes the gate is free standing, and that she could walk around it to make it to this elusive land. As she follows her instinct, she bumps into an invisible wall. She traces it around for several feet, realizing that she has no way into this land unless it is through that gate. She is very intrigued by this, knowing that whatever is on the other side must be good if it is protected like this. She walks back to the gate, seeing the design at the top of the gate, reading what most closely resembles "VTU" in Hebrew lettering. She takes a deep breath, wanting nothing more than to pass the gate. A hissing sound trickles through the air along with a rattling noise as a low whisper of a voice, drags along a simple word...
"Liiiiiffffffe...?"
Delia hears the voice, and as offputting as it is, she simply closes her eyes, focusing on the gate. She raises her hands up as a blast of icy crystals flows from her fingertips, blasting the gate open. Delia's eyes open as she sees the frozen gate, and she tilts her head to the side in a bit of confusion. However, with a glowing chest, and having conversed with Hades just hours before, nothing surprised her any longer.
"Hoder?"
Delia looks around for the source of the voice, but she finds nothing that resembled anything alive. Delia looks around, clearly not impressed with the landscape. She scoffs as she holds at her nose, the smell of rotting meat filling her nostrils.
Delia: ugh, I would ras'er smell Hades' sulfury B.O. z'an... z'is...
Delia's eyes scan the landscape for anything of interest, but it is just death, even in a land of the undead. That is, until she notices a single tree in the center of this baron land. Her eyes light up as she quickly approaches it. The dark red fruit fills the immediate area with a sweet, and slightly spicy sort of scent. Delia's stomach begin to growl as she walks closer to the only other living thing around, feeling the warmth as she hears a deep voice whispering from behind, one that is much more masculine than the other one.
"The fig does not fall far from the tree... Take it, devour it..."
Delia looks around once more, not seeing the source of the voice. She reaches up toward the fruit, pulling one down as she looks at it, the tempting flesh calling out to her. She raises it up to her lips, ready to take a bite, so much so that she feels the perfume of the fruit touching her lips, leaving a sweet, tempting taste in her mouth.
Delia: Wait a minute... Z'is is just too easy.
"Eat it, and you will have power that is unparalleled."
"Stay with me..."
Delia hears both voices whisper from behind her. As she turns around, she is startled by the dark winged, horned angel known to many as Lucifer. His white eyes glow with the intensity of the fires of hell as his white hair blows around wildly in the wind. He is standing next to the most vile looking creature not even your worst nightmare could dream up. The dry scales of her skin glow in Delia's light as her glowing red eyes stare right through Delia. Her serpant tongue dances wildly at the sight of Delia.
Delia: Let me guess... The devil, and... Amy Marshall? No, you're far too pretty to be her.
Serpant: Thank you.
Delia: That wasn't a compliment, el oh el... sorry bout it.
The serpant creature sneers, baring her fangs in protest as Lucifer laughs heartily. His eyeas focus instensely on the fig in Delia's hand as he smiles his charming smile, nudging Delia's hand back toward her mouth.
Lucifer: Eat. Learn.
Delia has half a mind to toss the fruit just to spite Lucifer, but it is far too tempting. She licks at her lips as the sweet aroma fills her nostrils. She raises it back toward her lips, ready to tear into the sweet flesh. However, she is startled by several loud booms. She looks over toward the now closed gate, seeing yellow flashes as several nightmarish beings crash into it, trying to get inside, only to get repelled back. They continue to try, but to no avail. Delia juts a thumb back toward them, and Lucifer nods his head.
Lucifer: You are safe in here. The bounty on your head must be high. That is what happens when you cross Necra Octavian Kane.
Delia: Ugh, even in dea's, I cannot escape z'at name! She killed me, isn't z'at enough for her?
Serpant: You are either a pure soul, or you did something terrible to her. In case of the latter, I applaud you.
The serpant warms back up to Delia as she smiles, winking at the serpant. The fruit in her hand calls out to her once more, but something seems off about this as she looks around at the surroundings. The serpants tongue dances around her lips as she sees the fruit still fully intact.
Serpant: You are a daughter of Eve. You are fallible. Who doesn't seek knowledge?
Lucifer: Lilith! That is enough. You know that it only works if it is by choice.
Delia immediately drops the fruit to the ground, watching as it shrivels up, turning black upon touching the ground. She watches as the ground hungrily absorbs what little life remained in the fruit, and things become clear to her now.
Delia: I s'ought z'e Garden of Eden was z'e only unspoiled land outside of Heaven.
Lilith: It was until He abandoned it. He forgot about it, and me. As his favored "children" began to show him what free will truly means, he didn't have time for the garden. Leave it to humans to destroy everything with their selfishness and vanity.
Delia: I don't mean to sound like Doros'y from Wizard of Oz, but I really just want to go home. I'm sorry for your troubles, but it's not really my problem.
Lilith narrows her eyes as Lucifer smirks. He takes a step forward with his hooves kicking dirt about the dead ground. Lilith pouts at this as she sighs loudly.
Lucifer: I'm sure we could come to some sort of agreement if you would like to return for a decade or two?
Lilith: Do you really think she wants to spend an eternity in your Hell as yoru servant, Lucifer?
Lucifer glares over at Lilith, who sneers in response. Delia rolls her eyes as she looks around again, noticing a slight spark of life coming to the land as a green tint starts to take over the grass, a couple of flowers sparkling off in the distance.
Lilith: Clearly she does not. For a female human, she seems to have some intelligence.
Lucifer: Don't be mad at me because Adam chose Eve over you. Eat the fruit, Delia...
Delia looks down at the ground, but is caught off guard as another fig is placed gently in the palm of her hand out of nowhere. She looks at it and rolls her eyes, tossing it back down to the ground. This one shrivels even faster as the ground soaks up the life force from it. By a single percent, the life comes back to the land around her, though there is still a long way to go.
Lucifer: You are far too defiant for your own good. Are you sure you aren't willing to make a deal with me? You would fit in quite nicely in my kingdom.
Delia: You mean your farce of a kingdom? Who do I look like? Misty? Please... If you will excuse me, I'm clearly not getting any answers here, it's been so... nice...
Delia speaks the last word with little sincerity as she turns to walk away. She hears a soft sigh followed by the sound of hooves dredging across the dead ground.
Lucifer: It is too bad, because you never got to meet your true love. That was supposed to happen a few weeks after your premature death. I'm sure he will find someone else.
Lilith: No! She must stay here to restore the garden. With two life forces, it shouldn't take too long.
Delia: Who is he? I want to know.
Lucifer shrugs his shoulders before fanning a contract out for Delia. The glowing piece of paper flickers in the wind as Delia reads over it for a moment. She knows what doing this would mean, but she can't ignore the quill pen that has just appeared in her hand. She watches as it pricks into her finger, drawing a spot of blood. Lilith shakes her head in the negative as Delia looks back to the wide grin on Lucifer's face. She bites onto her bottom lip in contemplation before signing a blood oath on the paper. Lucifer lets out a booming laugh of excitement.
Lucifer: True to my word...
He extends his clawed hand, opening up a portal of sorts to Delia's right. She smiles as she looks through the nearly blinding light. What she sees puts a smile on her face, but she is reluctant in walking through it as she hears Lilith calling out to her.
Lilith: Delia? Delia! Can you hear me?
Delia nods her head as she leans against the Tree of Knowledge, trying her best to stop herself, but she feels the pull of life, tugging at every fiber of her being. Lucifer's smile slowly fades as he looks down to the page.
Lucifer: You signed this... Your Face?
Delia: Sorry bout it...
And with that, Delia disappears into the light, feeling herself becoming heavier and heavier until she sinks down to a horizontal position, the screams of demons, the pleas of Lilith, all become deafening to her as she feels as if she is being turned inside out. The light gets brighter and brighter until... blackness...
"My life is a novel, and I am the author. I do not intend to write a sequel, so I have to make sure I tell a compelling story in one installment." -Delia, darling if you must...
The blackness causes Delia to tense up. She can't see anything, but the sound of a loud buzzing noise alarms her. The sound of people rushing around her slowly echoes in her ears as she tries her best to move, yet she can't. She hears cries in the distance as the static buzz sizzles, cutting through her like a knife.
"CLEAR!"
With a jolt of her entire body, she desperately sucks in a deep breath as she leans up. her eyes shoot open as she grabs at her chest, looking around in utter confusion. Her lips quiver as she tries to talk, but the doctors rush over to her, forcing her back down to the bed. She tries to speak again, letting out the closest thing to words that she can muster up at the moment.
Delia: Nuh-whuh-goo-huh?
Doctor: Ms. Darling, you need to relax.
Delia claws at his scrubs as she takes every breath, desperately feeling as if it would be her last. Her eyes shoot around the room, spotting her father standing, crying tears of fear and joy simultaneously. He tries to brush past the nurses to get to his daughter, but they hurriedly push him back as he protests. Delia is still in shock as she looks at the doorway, seeing Angelica standing there, looking like an absolute mess. I mean, her hair is flat, and she has bags under her eyes. And the sweatpants? Forget about them! Hideous! However, all Delia can do is smile as she sinks back down into the hospital bed, closing her eyes as she fades once more...
As Delia's eyes open up once more, the room is much darker... and a new room altogether, and she is all alone, save for the woman sitting up in the bed next to her. The woman is reading a month old issue of People Magazine, thumbing through the pages with a crinkle of the paper. Delia looks around, but the shock of a new surrounding isn't nearly as severe as she lies her head back down in protest. She sits there quietly, while the crinkling of the pages slowly gets on her nerves. She rubs at her eyes, yawning before gritting her teeth as she looks over at the lady next to her.
Delia: Could you read any louder, lady? Like fuck!
Delia growls as the woman slowly looks up from her magazine, glaring at Delia with her lips pursed. She glares at Delia for a moment before exaggeratingly turning the page, even louder than she had been. She smirks, feigning politeness before giggling.
Woman: It appears I can.
Delia: Z'at is just rude... Like, I s'ink I died or somes'ing, and z'en I come back to life, to get tormented by your outdated People Magazine, and z'at shitty attitude?
Delia picks up her bedside remote and begins rapidly pressing the button, trying her best to remain nice to the poor woman who simply responded to Delia's rudeness in kind. Delia gets more diligent with pressing the button until finally a nurse walks into the room. The nurse looks delighted to see Delia awake.
Nurse: Good morning, Ms. Darling. I'm glad to see you up and about.
Delia: Yes, well if someone would learn to be a quiet reader, z'en maybe I would not be awake yet.
Nurse: Ohhh, would you like some earplugs?
Delia growls as she folds her arms over her chest, ruffling her hospital gown in the process. She winces in a bit of pain, but doesn't let it on too much as she purses her lips together.
Delia: No, I would not like earplugs. I would like to be brought to a private room, and I would like to know what z'e hell is going on.
The nurse's eyes sparkle in the dim light of the hallway as she is taken aback by Delia's forwardness. She pauses, trying to think of the most diplomatic way to respond to that. She smiles sweetly as she walks back over toward the door leading to the hallway.
Nurse: Your doctor is here, doing his rounds. I'll let him know you're awake, and we'll work on getting your moved to another room as soon as possible.
Woman: Thank God. This girl sounds like a buzz saw when she sleeps.
The nurse smirks with her back turned to Delia as she enters the hallway. She disappears as Delia sinks down in her bed. Her chestnut locks are somewhat matted as they fall down onto her pillow, and down over her shoulders. She picks at her nails, disgusted at the shape they are in with the cuts that seem to cover the majority of her body.
Delia: Ugh, I'm going to need a spa day like no os'er. I feel like I got hit by a... Oh...
Woman: I wouldn't be surprised if the bus driver went out of his way to mow you down with that attitude of yours.
Delia: Yes, she did, but s'ank you for pointing z'at out, bitch. Go back to reading your Angelina and Brad nonsense...
Delia rolls her eyes as she throws the covers off of her body, slowly setting her lets over the side of the bed and planting her feet firmly on the ground. She grimaces as she holds onto her ribcage, slowly standing up. She pulls a few stray cords off of her, causing the heart monitor to begin screaming at her. She takes a few slow steps out into the hallway, dragging one of her legs behind her as she goes. She looks over at the wall calendar over the nurses station, seeing that it is January 4th. She is almost flabbergasted by this, placing a hand over her mouth. This turns into a bit of a rare look of depression that crosses her face.
Nurse: Oh, Ms. Darling? You need to rest in bed. Dr. Swanson will be in shortly to see you.
Delia: I... I missed Christmas? New Years Eve and day?
Nurse: Yes, hon. You really shouldn't be up and walking around.
Delia holds a hand out, silencing the nurse, even from half way down the hallway. Even with this display, Delia is clearly still in shock with how long she was out of commission. She looks around at the red paper hearts, and white cupids littering the walls where there were once green trees with rounded ornaments strategically placed around them. She reaches her hand from the nurses direction, and places it over her mouth as she shakes. This lasts about five seconds before the anger takes back over. She lets out a high pitches screech as she picks up a candy dish from the nurses desk and she tosses it across the hallway, shattering it against the wall as she stomps her bare feet. Another nurse at the desk picks up the phone, quickly pressing a few buttons, but Delia doesn't even stop to notice as she grabs a few pieces of paper, growling as she rips them to shreds, letting them fall slowly to the ground in a mess.
Delia: Z'at FUCKING BITCH!!!
Delia screeches once more, causing technicians and some patients to poke their heads from the room to watch the dramatic spectacle that only Delia Darling could put on. She leans out as she growls, looking at each and every one of them.
Delia: What z'e FUCK ARE YOU LOOKING AT?!?
She huffs and puffs as a few men dressed in white come through a set of double doors at the end of the hallway, with restraints at the ready, as well as a needle of sedatives. Delia turns around to see this, and she begins throwing random medical supplies at them, anything in her reach, as she quickly backs up. They approach her as they dodge her attacks, until Delia grabs onto a stray wheel chair, shoving it forward and tripping one of the orderlies up. She backs up against a wall, but she isn't done fighting yet. She reaches around for something, but there is nothing left to throw. She turns her head to look for something, anything, but there is nothing. Then, she feels a slight prick in her neck as she starts to feel dizzy. She turns her head slightly, gritting her teeth at the orderly before her head starts to spin, and she falls right into his arms, into a blackout.
[*Fade*]
"The best revenge is to be unlike him who performed the injury." -Marcus Aurelius, Meditations
It had been weeks since we heard anything from our Bombshell Champion, via Twitter, or any other media outlet. The Marie Antoinette of wrestling was not one to keep quiet for very long, and the rumor mill known as the internet had been circling news that Delia Darling had, in fact, died. Of course, the whole "Wrestling is fake" argument held up for the first week of her silence, but once week two was well into effect, people had begun to wonder now. Questions of why Necra Octavian Kane was not in jail for her heinous attack were circling, and it seemed that there was an air of sympathy for the meanest Mean Girl. The unofficial Queen Bee had somehow garnered a candle light vigile outside of SCW headquarters in Las Vegas, though it was comprised mostly of fans who had been puked on by Delia, or sprayed with Veronica's Secret, or personally victimized by one of her avantegard displays of "art". People really felt bad for hating her, as they shared stories of having Delia Darling punch them in the face, and exactly how... awesome... it really was.
Today was the day that these rumors ended. January 9th, 2015, at 11am, meangirlswrestling.com saw an unusual name logged onto the website, and people quickly began to whisper. DeliaXxDarling! Could it be? Of course, they did not have to wait long, as within the hour, the following video blog was uploaded, with 1,496... 1,499... hits within the first ten minutes of being posted:
The camera fades in to see the outside of the Birmingham National Indoor Arena. This would be the site of Sin City Wrestling's first stop on their 2015 World Tour, the spectacle that is known as SCW Inception. In just two and a half days, it would be bustling with fans and talent. Fourteen massive matches, including 8 title defenses, and the crowning of three other titles. There was doubt about one title defense, but those quells are put to rest as the blonde bombshell, Delia Darling, steps in front of the camera. She is wearing a black waist coat, with a grey checkered skirt, and black stockings. She has her usual sunglasses on, with a black beret strategically cocked just a few inches to the right of where it belongs. She adjusts the lacy scarf around her neck as her cherry lips part ever so slightly. She lets out an intrigued chuckle as she presses a cigarette to her lips. She takes a deep drag from it before dropping it to the concrete. Her hair is still, even in the light breeze that waves her skirt and scarf around. It is fanned out to the sides, chin length, which is rare for the one who normally lives by the creed of "bigger (hair) is better". She relishes in the surprise of the potential viewers for a moment before looking directly into the camera from behind her shades.
Delia: As one of z'e most influential poets of our time once sang... "I'm not dead, just floating... Just like z'e ink benea's my tattoo, I hide my scars from you." Well, no longer. Z'e Goddess of z'e dead could not kill me, no matter how hard she tried. Here I stand, in decent hel's. I admit, she did quite a number on me. Allow me to take a moment to give z'e masters of make up at Nyx Cosmetics some promotion. I was run over by a monster truck, but I still look like a fucking rock star... Bitch, I'm flawless...
Delia giggles as she primps slightly, giving a view of her seemingly flawless appearance. Conveniently, a pop up ad for Nyx Cosmetics appears at the bottom of the screen. Once Delia is finished showing off, she runs her fingers down her face as she takes a step closer to the camera.
Delia: SCW Inception takes place in two days. In just a few hours, the fans will line up fir the usual meet and greet events that will kick off for z'e weekend. Z'ey will get to meet z'eir favorite Stars and Bombshells from SCW programming... well, most of z'em since I will not be z'ere. I have more important matters to attend to wi's my lovely and supportive sisters, Angelica, Veronica, Mercedes, and Amanda. We are in a land of culture, so why would we waste our time hanging around wrestling fans? British societies least refined will be z'ere, mostly Irish and Turkish immigrants, as well as z'e kissing cousins. Yeah, no s'ank you. We left America to escape z'at...
Delia chuckles as she goes to flip her hair over her shoulder, out of sheer habit, though it doesn't budge an inch. Her steamy breath floats through the chilled morning air as she pauses, thinking carefully on her next words. She totally veers off course, changing the subject with a smile on her face.
Delia: Z'is show will be huge. Every Mean Girl is in action. Amanda Cortez and Veronica Taylor will take on Melody Grace and Misty... yawn. Like, is Misty even still around? I s'ought she disappeared after I kicked her ass six weeks ago or whatever. And Melody Grace? She wrestles now? Since fucking when? No, z'at is a legitimate question. Wasn't she z'e one who wiped Odette Stevens', nee Ryder's, ass for a living? Whatever... Two of wrestling's "It Girls", z'e biggest s'ing to ever happen to z'e Bombshell Division, ever, will be taking on a has been, and a never was. Is it even a wrestling match, or just a way to make Mean Girls look better? S'ank you SCW management, but we don't need help to look good.
Delia smirks, running her tongue across her bottom lip deviously. She pauses for a second before turning her head slightly to the left, looking off into the distance. Soon, she begins shaking her head in disappointment before she removes her sunglasses for just a second so that we can visibly see her rolling her eyes, before she replaces them.
Delia: Eis'er z'at, or you really want to insult us by feeding us z'e bottom of z'e bucket. Is it my fault z'at z'e bosses don't know how to hire competent talents? Any stray mutt z'at wanders into z'ere office wi's a resume gets hired? Everyone gets lucky sometimes, z'ough. I mean, z'e did sign z'e Mean Girls, Sean Jackson, and Andrew Watts, but... what else can you boast about? You have s'ree champions out of eight who are wor's a damn. Moi, like obvs. Sean Jackson, duh... and Mercedes Vargas. Despayre carries Big B on his back, so z'at "team" is a joke. Punk and Rock Connetion or whatever? Amy Marshall and Jessie Salco? I don't need to say more. Z'e Roulette title is a mess since z'at masked freak got his hands on it, and z'en he got clusterfucked by z'e two mongoloids and z'eir pretty little Twinkie boy J2H. Even to name one of z'e s'ree as a champion is ridiculous. But z'e s'ree champions wor's a shit, you feed z'em bottom of z'e barrel talents such as Necra Octavian Kane, Drake Green, and z'e worst of all, Traci Patterson? Poor Mercedes is growing stagnant in her reign, because she gets D-List talents on z'e regular. Bitch please... We're better z'an z'is. Mercedes is definitely better z'an z'is. Inception might be z'e biggest show in some time, but for z'e Mean Girls, it is just an overglorified, pretty polished turd. Fourteen matches, but only four even matter, and z'at is only because of z'e one-sided level of competition in z'em. Ugh, sorry bout it...
Delia's arrogant smirk has gone by the wayside as her furled brow and protruding jaw let us know that she's now angry. She takes in a few deep breaths through her nose, allowing her nostrils to flare out slightly as she slowly nods her head from side to side.
Delia: Let me ask somes'ing to z'e bosses. Your inarguable top talent is in z'e hospital, in a coma for two weeks, surrounded by bouquets of flowers from everyone and z'eir bros'er... yet you don't so much as give one phone call to your Main Event starlet to see how she is doing? Z'at is bad business. If I wasn't such a nice person, I would walk out on z'is company right now, leaving you wis'out a Main Event for your supposed biggest show of z'e year. Z'at is poor business etiquette. I'm a professional. I don't take too kindly to z'e disrespect I've been shown. Z'e lack of concern for not only me, but for your own company, is appalling. And allowing a murderer to possibly take over your most prestigious title in SCW history? What if I had died, Erik? What if I lost my life z'at night, Christian? What if your biggest star was snuffed out, Mark? If my fas'er suing you for every dirty dime you own did not sink z'is floating pile of shit of a company, z'e fact z'at your "Future Star of z'e Year 2014" award winner was murdered on television while her murderer gets to destroy all of z'e hard work said "Future Star" put into taking a title z'at meant nos'ing, and turning it into z'e most prestigous champonship belt to ever grace z'e timekeepers table... z'at would definitely sink SCW.
Delia tilts her sunglasses down, showing off her fiery brown eyes. Her anger resonates within each and every viewer as they can't help but continue to watch... She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a silver cigarette case, opening it to retrieve a cigarette and a lighter. She clicks the lighter, sparking the cigarette as she attempts to calm herself down. It helps some, but not very much, as she continues her rant.
Delia: I expected z'is kind of unprofessionalism from z'e amateur Christian Underwood, and z'e back alley tactics of Erik Staggs, but I never would have expected z'is from you, Mark Ward. I'm not sure when you decided you hated me... hated my sisters... but you could have at least told me. You could have granted us z'e freedom from z'e sinking ship known as "Hot Stuff International". I mean, we were keeping z'e name afloat, even z'ough it was always basically Mean Girls plus Sean Jackson. Wait... is z'at it, Mark? Are you jealous of us? Do we s'reaten you? Does female dominance intimidate you? I'm sorry to say z'is, but perhaps if you hired talent z'at knew how to draw interest, Mean Girls wouldn't be z'e focus of each and every show for z'e better part of a year. Honestly, we coast. We're not giving our best to you, because you are not z'e best. You are simply a platform for us to promote our brand. I mean, we wrestle for a s'ousand dollars a night, or five hundred for appearances. I make z'at kind of money wi's z'e simple click of a clever stock option. But, z'e Independent circuit is where z'e fans are. So, we figure, you scratch our back? We scratch yours? It took me until now to realize z'at you were scratching our backs wi's knives, waiting for z'e proper time to sink it deep. Well played, Mark... well played. Z'ough... tell me... Did you orchestrate z'is attack wi's Necra? I bet you were...
Delia grits her teeth as she lunges toward the camera. Her eyes are more fiery than ever as she clutches at her stomach. She practically snarls as she growls angrily.
Delia: Snuffing out your brightest star is bad for business, but killing an unborn child like some Socialist Obama supporter? Z'at is vile. It is disgusting. What kind of a person can call for a hit on an unborn child, and z'en curl under hsi blankets to sleep at night? I've been called all kinds of s'ings. People often s'ink of me as z'e Anti-Christ, but you? You take z'e cake, Mark Ward. I inspire controversy. I draw money from z'e pockets of your idiotic fans. You bleed z'em dry, and I can no longer support you. I cannot speak for my sister, your girlfriend, Angelica, or z'e rest of z'e Mean Girls, but I will no longer associate wi's a child killer. As of z'is moment, I am finished even mentioning your name, because it makes me want to vomit...
Delia's face twists into a sickened expression as she draws another puff of her cigarette. She taps the end of it, causing ash to fall to the ground, completely ignoring the irony in this. After a few huffs and puffs of anger, she closes her eyes, taking in a deep breath to calm herself down. Once this has worked, she opens her eyes, and forces a smile onto her face.
Delia: For z'ose who have supported me, albeit s'inking I was dead... I would like to give you hope by explaining z'e extent of my injuries. Not to sound like Liz Smalls, but I did suffer some head trauma, and my memory of z'at fateful night is hazy. I suffered a "cuncuuuuuuuushin" if you will. I have a few bruised bones, cut z'e rest of z'e damage is mostly cosmetic. Z'e internal bleeding healed while I rested peacefully in a coma for two weeks, missing Christmas and New Years, a time meant for toges'erness wi's family and friends. Z'at part hurt z'e most. But, I'm sure z'at it was meant to, because z'at is what a heartless bitch such as Necra Octavian Kane does best. She's a life ruiner. Sorry bout it.
Delia shrugs her shoulders as she plays the worlds smallest violin for the viewers. She plays it off as if it weren't a big deal, but her demeanor lets us know that she is fuming on the inside. She takes one last drag from her cigarette before dropping it to the ground. She turns around toward the door of the National Indoor Arena, pushing it open as if she owns the place. The camera follows her inside as she wanders inside the lobby. It is darkened as no one is here to start the day yet. There are banners for Inception hanging from the wall, including the match promo for Necra Octavian Kane versus Delia Darling. One of her favorite shots of herself, invoking the most thought with newspaper clips and small cuts being the only thing covering her bare skin. Such a sight is sullied by the image of Necra on the other side, causing her eyes to narrow as she turns around to face the camera, not allowing the sting to affect her any more than it already has.
Delia: Perhaps Necra should have stuck around to make sure z'e job was finished, because I am alive, and I am well. I might not be at one hundred percent, but ninety-nine is not bad, no? Fifty percent would be substantial enough for me to take Necra out and retain my championship belt. Sure, I am being kind wi's z'at estimate, but what can I say? I'm so... nice...
Delia sighs, shaking her head as if she is amazed by her showing of kindness toward Necra. She looks up at the ceiling as she does a half-hearted chuckle.
Delia: Anyone who knows anys'ing about... anys'ing knows z'at I could take care of Necra Octavian Kane as if she were but a mere gnat, buzzing around my head, annoying me, but not truly a s'reat to me. A simple swat, and she could be out of my life forever. But, z'ey also know z'at I hold grudges. Yes, I, Delia Darling, can sometimes forget logic. I can toss caution into z'e wind, blinded by a quest for revenge. And why would I not want to? Don't I have every reason in z'e world to want to? Z'e bitch did try to kill me brutally. She did try to take my unborn child from me. She ruined my holidays. But z'e worst s'ing she did was show me complete and utter disrespect. She tried to kill SCW, a company I worked hard to build from z'e dirt in one year. She tried to ruin z'e Bombshell Division. I have every right to call for her head on a silver platter, but...
Delia taps her chin as she walks off toward the double doors, leading to the arena. She pushes them open, looking down to the half-assembled ring, shrouded in shadows from the sparce lighting. She stands at the top of a set of steps, leading down to the arena floor, her silhouette blocking out part of the dim view as she stares down at the ring.
Delia: ... who would want such an ugly head? Z'e blemishes, and z'e half retarded dead eyes staring at me? And where do I even start on z'at hair? It's bad enough I actually have to touch her in z'e ring. What she did to me will haunt me for quite some time I'm afraid, but what I will do to her will haunt her for eternity.
Delia turns around, letting the light pouring in from the lobby catch the glisten of her eyes, and her pearly white teeth as she smiles. She turns back around and begins walking down the stares slowly, running the tips of her fingers over the top of the banister as she goes.
Delia: I have every right to lock her Daughters of Darkness in their locker room while I trick her into thinking we will have a clean match. I could put up a beautifully crafted smoke and mirrors entrance, distracting z'e imbecile as Angelica, Mercedes, Amanda, and Veronica jump over z'e barricade and beat her down, strapping her to z'e ropes wi's no escape as we systematically beat every last living FUCK out of her, making her wish she could cease to exist, only to give her anos'er harsh kick to z'e head to remind her of her immortality. I could kindly ask Mercedes to hold Necra's arm still as I pry each nail from her figners wi's pliers, one by one, listening as she cries out in pain. As she begs me to stop, I could snap each finger. I could pull every last split ended hair from her head. I could bleed her dry across z'is entire ring. After what I've been s'rough, I'm twisted enough to do it. She has me z'at blinded by fury...
Delia comes down to the floor of the arena. This is where the handheld camera turns on a small light. Delia slowly walks through the empty flooring where the steel chairs will be set up in the next day or so. She walks down to the ring, running her fingers across it with a sick smile on her face. The absence of ropes is noticeable as she slowly circles around the ring.
Delia: Believe me when I say z'at z'is is not a title defense. Roxi Johnson was a title defense. Traci Patterson was a title defense... hell, even Misty was a title defense. It was much more to her, just as z'is match wi's Necra is to me. I'm sure Necra feels it is mostly just a chance at gold. I mean, she would have to run someone over wi's a monster truck, and hope z'at z'ey die in order to attain gold when two Mean Girls hold z'e only singles Bombshell gold... Necra is so much more z'an a title defense to me. Z'e injuries I suffered from at her hands and z'e complete disregard for z'e life of my child have made some pretty sick s'oughts run s'rough my head z'is week, I admit. But, z'e best idea, z'e one I know will cut z'e deepest came to me earlier today. She wants z'e world to know z'at she ended me and my reign. She needs z'is validation. It is why she sunk to such desperate lows to try taking me out, no? Obviously I stand here before you today. She did kill me, but my spirit is too strong for her, and I came back from it. I... conquered dea's, and I did not need z'e help of my Mean Girls sisters to do it.
Delia comes around to the opposite side of the ring, where the entryway is set up and ready to go. She stands on the edge of the ramp, looking into the ring as the camera catches her from across the ring. She stands there silently for just a second before continuing.
Delia: At SCW Inception, I will conquer dea's one more time. I will let 2015 start off z'e same way 2014 ended... wi's Mean Girls dominance. 2014 belonged to Mean Girls, and z'e 2015, z'e year of z'e World Tour will be no different, I assure... Necra, darling? I wish to leave you wi's anos'er profound tidbit from Pink... "I'm not dead... just you." See you Sunday, bitch... Sorry bout it...
With that, Delia turns around and slowly walks up the entrance ramp to the stage. She marches up to the curtains, turning slightly as she opens her jacket to reveal the Bombshell Championship draped over her shoulder. In a foreboding manner, she parts the curtains, letting the light from the camera reflect off of the belt as she blows a kiss to the camera before disappearing through the curtains.
[*Fade*]
