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Seeing Red.
Topic Started: May 30 2016, 02:45 PM (19 Views)
Maggie McIntyre
The Banshee of HATE
The feed opens up to see Maggie McIntyre seated in an empty stadium in Cleveland and she doesn’t look happy in the slightest. After all, with all that’s going on, why should she? She sighs and wipes at her cheeks, looking out over the ghost town of the arena.

“You know, you would figure with everything I’ve been through in my life that I’d be used to people leaving. That I’d be used to the disappointment. Family has always been a disappointment. My grandmother treats me like the red-headed demon child because I’m the product of a one-night stand. My mom kept me from knowing who my father was until I was, then mom dies...Dad and I had our ups and downs.

But you…

You promised to stay around and like an idiot, I believed you. You were going to teach me new things and take Genichiro and I to great places, but he gets injured and you fucking disappeared. I tried to call. I kept going by the dojo. You said he was my brother, that you were my sensei.

You even named us the Crimson Riot.”


Maggie sighs heavily again.

“I know what to expect from my father, he’s notorious for just dropping off the map...but if I need him, really need him, he’s always there for me.

But you, Jaime Alejandro...you’re just a disappointment all around. You ditched me when your star pupil gets injured...you were my sensei too and you just ditched me.

Some fuckin’ father figure you are. The Boogeyman came for me and you weren’t there when I needed you most.”


She’s quiet for a few long moments, before looking over to the camera. Her skin visibly goosefleshed when she starts talking again, about the man who scares her more than anything. The dark circles under her eyes, normally hidden with makeup, are fully visible in the weak overhead light. Making it look like she hasn’t slept decently in weeks.

”I don’t feel close to you, Calder.

I can’t think of anything that repulses me more than you, save perhaps the Havens.

You’re like a virus, a flesh-eating disease that starts from the inside out. Chewing holes through my very soul like a termite colony, weakening my foundations while you increase the pressure on top with nightmares. I’m not going to take your hand, you monster.

I’m not going to follow you into some black pit and lose myself.

You wanted this. You pushed Mike to get disqualified so you would have me right where you wanted me. The second round match for Path of the Warrior, but you’re going to get a far different Maggie at Battlelines than what you’ve seen before.

I don’t want anything you have to offer.

I don’t need you to help the world remember my name.

They already know me.

I’m Maggie-fucking-McIntyre. I’m the Giant Slayer. I’m the daughter of “Big” Ed Johnson, the most notorious mouth in this business.

I don’t want the guidance of a monster.

The only person in this world I can depend on is myself.

I’ll get myself through the dark nights and terrors when I close my eyes.

You’re only in my way now.

I HATE you.


She snarls before reaching over to turn off the camera and the feed goes black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

May 29th, 2016
Cleveland, OH


Maggie sat on the balcony of the room Michael Draven had booked for them for the show, a bottle of Jameson whiskey on the small table in front of her. It was dark and in less than forty-eight hours, she was going to be facing her greatest fear. She’d tried to go to sleep earlier. Tried and failed.

It was nearing 2 AM and all she wanted to do was just drink herself into a coma.

Barely two hours of sleep before she’d woken up with a start, scaring the shit out of her boyfriend and the people across the hall. Michael had pestered her for almost ten minutes to come back to bed and talk to him about it. It was only a nightmare. Confronting your fear was the only way to beat it.

The rookie wouldn’t tell him what the nightmare had been about, because she wasn’t entirely sure it was a nightmare.

Sure, it had been the same shitbox motel she dreamed about a few months ago, the one where she’d been at Dredd’s mercy. Again she’d been splayed out on those dingy white sheets, unable to move and whimpering...but the giant man known as Cal Rayner had been nowhere to be found. The one seated on the musty old chair had been her boyfriend, just watching as the shadow of a serpent slithered up between his girlfriend’s thighs.

Watching with eyes that showed nothing.

Like they’d been pried out and replaced with glass.

Like someone had turned him into some awful piece of human taxidermy.

It wasn’t a shadow looming over her, not really. The serpent she wanted to see was really just a man in soot-colored clothes, with sharp blue eyes that cut through the deepest part of her. He didn’t speak, but she had felt his teeth and lips graze a trail up her legs.

Maggie could still feel it.

She glanced through the sliding glass door, back to the bed where her boyfriend was sleeping soundly again. He was worried about her, and she’d made it known earlier in the week that she didn’t want him at ringside. Calder would only torment him and push him to do horrible things, costing her the match. She wanted Calder to herself this time, and the younger Draven was only to come down in the event of an emergency. Ugh. Maggie brought the bottle to her lips and drank deeply.

She could still feel it.

His mouth on her. The cold weight of him pressing her down into the mattress.

She glanced back to Mike again, before sliding two fingers between her legs. The very feeling of it was disgusting, the cause of this. The arousal that dream had induced was...

Maggie had woken up on the cusp of an orgasm.

Another long pull of the bottle. She hated him.

Indrid-Fucking-Calder.

Oh how she hated him.


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