Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]
Add Reply
The Man Behind the Mask; feat. Stacy Vandervort
Topic Started: May 4 2016, 05:00 PM (31 Views)
Michael Draven
Member Avatar
EWA Minority Owner
"good things never last, bad things never die."
-john darnielle





Boston, MA
Wednesday, May 4, 2016 - 11:58 PM


Maggie lay sleeping on the couch, while he sat in the recliner, watching her.

She'd asked him to stay in the living room with her until she fell asleep. The promo that had aired had bothered her greatly. She'd only seen a few moments of it before asking him to turn it off, while she tended to the hand he'd cut in his anger, shattering the glass in his hand.

He would watch the rest tomorrow at the office. For now, he pushed it out of his head, just as they had done earlier that evening, turning the conversation to Maggie's steel cage match with Alyssa Marie Haven. He couldn't wait to see Maggie tear Alyssa Marie apart. The woman he'd once been in love with all those years ago was gone, a hollowed out shell playing home to the 'Queen Bitch', as she preferred to call herself now.

Maggie would show her what being a bitch inside a steel cage was all about. He had no doubt of that.

He watched her sleep, her chest expanding and contracting with her small breaths, a near smile on her lips. No night terrors yet.

She was the best thing in his life.

And he wouldn't let Haven - or Calder - get to her again.




Boston, MA
Thursday, May 5, 2016 - 9:09 AM


"Are you absolutely sure this is legitimate?"

Michael Draven sat in the plush office of the newly promoted Executive Assistant, Stacy Vandervort. The blond bombshell looked worse for wear this morning, having foregone makeup, dress clothes, or even brushing her hair, settling for a t-shirt and yoga pants instead.

Being up all night researching this new development would do that.

"100% sure. I've vetted it with our attorneys, and even called in a favor for a guy I dated once who has his own practice now. It's legitimate. And there's nothing we can do to stop it, if she hires him. Which she clearly will."

Draven slammed his fist against the armrest of the chair. All that planning, and he'd still found a way -- "Is there any way to determine that for certain?"

"Not without asking her, or having a PI follow her around. But really, Michael, does it matter?"

He looked up at her, confused. "Why wouldn't it? You said the paperwork was filed three weeks ago. This was clearly planned, calculated."

"Right, it was. But...so what? It's not like there's potential for any real harm. It's not like it ultimately matters. They come into the building together, they leave together...they can't do anything. He's not even an employee here. And if he tries anything, we're well within our rights to immediately eject him from the building."

"If it doesn't matter, then why were you up all night researching it?"

The Executive Assistant glared at him, almost insulted by the question. "It's my job, Michael. It's what you and Erik pay me for. I'm not sitting in here day and night serving my own self interests, calling around to see if I can get laid tonight and drinking Pepsi by the case like the last person who held this position. I'm here to serve the interests of the company. In this case, it was in our interest to know what we're going to be dealing with."

Erik was right to put her in charge. She was brilliant. "Fair enough. Great work, Stacy. Keep me posted if anything changes."

"I will. She hesitated as he stood to leave, then decided it was time to say something. "...Michael?"

He turned, looking down at her. Her expression, normally professional and hardened in these meetings, had softened - she appeared on the verge of tears.

"We need to talk about Jada."




Boston, MA
Wednesday, May 4, 2016 - 11:37 AM


A quick glance at his phone. Two text messages. One from Erik Draven, telling him that Kilminster had been calling. "Probably wants to see if we're firing him. He can talk to Stacy like everyone else."

The other, a silly selfie of Maggie at the gym, sticking her tongue out at him. He smiled, sending her a quick "<3" before turning his attention to the document on his desk.

What Stacy had asked...it wasn't feasible. Not without documentation from a licensed professional. He understood the dilemma, but something of this magnitude would require more than just taking someone's word. Not that he didn't trust Stacy, but...he knew Erik would feel the same way. Their investment had to be protected. Besides, if it was truly an issue, why would getting the required paperwork not be an option?

It couldn't be done.

He turned his attention back to his phone. It was time to make a call. The game never stopped, not for Michael Draven. Not now.

They would do this forever, after all, in one form or another.

He grimaced as his bandaged hand brushed against the edge of the desk - something for Calder to target on Monday in Concord, no doubt. He quickly dialed a sequence of numbers, memorized already, and placed the call on speakerphone. One ring later, and a female voice filled the air, tinny through the speakerphone. This was likely the brunette who worked on weekends sometimes, with the cute mole on her cheek - the blonde had a more ditzy voice.

"HK Wrestling Academy, how can I direct your call?"

"Alexander Haven, please."

"I'm afraid he's not in the building today. Can I put you through to his voicemail?"

"Of course."

"You've reached the voicemail of Alexander Haven, co-owner of HK Wrestling Academy."

Christ, he even hated the man's voice.

"I'm not available right now. Leave a message and I'll return it when I'm around. "

Draven laughed out loud. This was ridiculous. The guy had been gone for over a decade and he shows up, and steps into the role of a businessman...

His laughter trailed off, as the stark reality hit him. They were alike in that aspect, too.

It was eerie how similar they really were, when you broke them down to their most basic levels and motivations. And here he was, goading the man. Rattling the cage.

Something Haven would do.

He shook his head, clearing the thought from his mind as the voicemail beeped.

"Hey, buddy! Just wanted to call and see if you'd made it back from DC okay. Hopefully your bus didn't crash and catch on fire, incinerating you and your bitch wife into a fiery oblivion! So now that I'm back in charge, I figure we can start talking about when that next match we're going to have will be. Give me a call here at the office, maybe we'll do lunch!

Asshole.
"

He hung up. The match would happen. It was a matter of time.

On to more pressing issues. He needed to watch Indrid Calder's message to him, on Combat TV. He quickly pulled the app up on his phone; it took only a minute to find the promo.

He watched.

Again. And again. And again.




Congratulations, Calder.

You've managed to do something that nobody else has since my brother and I restarted the EWA.

You have my full, undivided attention.

Alexander Haven is the reason I'm here. That hasn't changed, nor will it. But for this week? Haven isn't even a blip on my radar. I'm zeroed in on you, Indrid.

I've been waiting patiently ever since Mexico, you see. Biding my time. Thinking, maybe, Haven forced you into this mess. Had something on you that made you slip that substance into Maggie's drink. I've learned over the years to never underestimate the man - he has a scheme for everything, a plan A-Z for all contingencies. I figured maybe he'd found some skeletons in the closet of The Stranger, somehow - implausible as that may be.

Maybe that happened, maybe it didn't. I don't know. All I know...is you enjoyed it. You gained some sick sense of pleasure out of what you did to her.

That's all I needed to hear.

Understand this, Indrid. I don't give a fuck what you to do Dredd. I have no real love for Cal Rayner. Mutilate him, torture him, skull-fuck him in his dirty hotel room while he gets blown by a barfly. I don't care. But let me make one thing perfectly clear to you, Indrid. There is not a future project. Maggie McIntyre will not be subjected to the things you've done to Dredd. Maggie won't be subjected to you. Stop spying on her. Stop taking photographs. Give this up, Calder.

You're right about me, you know. I am flawed. I am transparent about it. I'm very open in the fact that I don't expect people to understand this need I have to make Alexander Haven pay for the things he's done.

Having said that...I think there's many, many people who would understand my need to make you pay for the things you've done.

I don't care about the Path of the Warrior tournament. Fuck the tournament. I had no intention of even being involved in it - Gates is the one who drew up the brackets. But I'm certainly glad he did, because it's given me the opportunity to step into the ring with you.

I guess he wasn't completely worthless after all.

Many wrestlers around here find you intimidating. Creepy, perhaps. Void of emotion, oblivious to pain. You're certainly one tough son of a bitch...you've proven that. For me, that makes what I'm going to do to you even that much more enjoyable.

You see, Calder, for all the mysteries that surround you - the identity of the fabled “Horseman”, how you're able to slip in and out of places, how you're able to luek in the shadows, and even how you're able to remain expressionless in the face of unspeakable pain - there is one undeniable fact.

You're a human being.

A bag of water, held together by flesh and bone and organs and blood. And thus, being a human being, you do feel pain. You do feel love. You do feel hate.

You feel emotion.

That's what I'm going to do to you at Fight Night, Calder. I will strip your facade aside. I will rip your mask away as if it were the clothing laid over your body, leaving you naked for the world to gasp at - just as you did Maggie.

You stripped her of basic fundamental rights as a woman, Indrid - no. As a person. The right to feel safe. The right to be able to close her eyes and take rest without the fear of waking up screaming from some unspeakable nightmare planted in her head by your goddamn actions.

You've forced her to wear a mask, Indrid. Forced her to become just like you - hiding her true self within, shielding her emotions from the world so that she can maintain some semblance of a normal life. To maintain her sanity.

So to give Maggie her life back, I have to strip away the mask she hides behind, and show her that there's no reason to hide behind it any longer. No reason to fear when she lies her head on the pillow at night. No reason to fear the scraping sound that comes from the darkness inside her room, the shadows that lie just beyond her field of vision.

And I do that by beating you into a bloody oblivion, Indrid. To inflict so much pain and suffering onto you that I destroy the facade you hide behind - the one that says you're an unemotional being, capable of feeling no pain, incapable of emotion. Your facade - your mask - crumbles away at Fight Night, and I expose you not for the monster you wish the world to see you as….

….but as the man you truly are.

I'm looking forward to this encounter, Indrid. Eviscerating you will fill me with a great joy, a feeling that cannot be duplicated in any other aspect of life. Not even by defeating Haven would I gain the satisfaction of my lover knowing she is safe.

At Fight Night, I murder the Stranger...and leave the Man in his place.

Edited by Gates, May 4 2016, 05:11 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
ZetaBoards - Free Forum Hosting
Enjoy forums? Start your own community for free.
« Previous Topic · The Warrior's Den · Next Topic »
Add Reply