| A Graceful Disaster | |
|---|---|
| Tweet Topic Started: Jun 21 2016, 01:43 PM (17 Views) | |
| Gates | Jun 21 2016, 01:43 PM Post #1 |
|
Administrator
|
"This is the voicemail of Grace Goeren. Leave a message at the beep." The former owner of the EWA slammed his fist down on the kitchen table in frustration, causing a glass to topple over, spilling a dark liquid. Enraged, he grabbed the glass, flinging it against the wall as it shattered into hundreds of tiny jagged pieces. The sound of the glass shattering hung in the air for a moment, as if time had stopped with that moment. This was not how things were supposed to go down. Their original plan had been foiled a week before Battlelines XIV, when their associate had backed down from the scheme they'd concocted, stating that the timing wasn't right. Gates thought that it was a load of bullshit. The timing was perfect. But still, he couldn't force another party into something they weren't willing - yet - to participate in. Besides, it'd given him more time to get into Grace's head, filling her young, hardfast mind with notions, suggestions and ideas. Or, at least, he'd thought so at the time. Then a wild card was dealt in the form of Stacy Vandervort. That meddling bitch. Stacy had signed, in an unexpected twist, a tag team match, forcing Grace to team with her disgusting, pathetic worm of a father, Azrael Goeren. one of the two #1 contenders to the EWA World Heavyweight Championship. Grace had naturally been furious, which had privately filled Gates with glee. After all, anger was an emotion that could be easily manipulated and twisted. Except...the bastard had actually helped her. Gates had known it was trouble the moment that filthy German had thrown himself in front of Grace - in front of his Grace. He had spent weeks with the young woman, molding her into a killing machine, feeding the hatred that burned inside her for her father, as though it were a baby bird, calling out for nourishment from its mother. And oh, how that hatred had grown. He'd fashioned her into a weapon - more importantly, into his weapon. Once she'd taken Azrael Goeren out once and for all, he'd turn her loose on all of his enemies...all of those responsible for ousting him from his position as CEO of the company he'd created. But Azrael fucking Goeren had ruined it all. He saw the look of shock cross her face as Goeren took the fall for her. The look of shock...and of confusion. He'd tried reasoning with her backstage, but the slimy worm had already planted the seed of doubt within her young impressionable mind, as evidenced by what had happened at the end of Battlelines...and afterward. Gates had left for the evening after Grace's advancement into the finals of the Path of the Warrior tournament. Grace had agreed to come by his home after showering at the arena, so they could go over a plan for her Network Championship match at Path of the Warrior. Imagine his surprise, then, as he watched the conclusion of Battlelines from the comfort of his living room. Watched her help her father. Battlelines hadn't even went off the air before Gates had sped off, driving like a madman to get to the Combat Zone. He'd arrived too late - Grace was gone. So was Azrael. One of the dipshit production assistants backstage claimed to have seen the father and daughter leaving the arena together, an idea Gates dismissed immediately. She wouldn't have agreed to that, even in her confused state. But... He hadn't spoken to her since then. She'd ignored all of his phone calls, sending him to voicemail after a ring or two. He'd been on the hunt for her in her usual party spots. Nothing. It was like she'd vanished. Gone, up in a pillar of smoke. And with her gone, his chances for revenge were severely diminished. Sure, there were other options. Gates was a man that never went without a Plan B or C. He had those lined up now, and had even spoken with Plan B at a neutral location earlier that day. Plan #B was new to the area, and was going through a bit of a culture shock, after being used to routine for such a long period of time...but nonetheless, a viable option. But in this case, Plan B wasn't good enough for Gates. He wanted Plan A, Plan B, and Plan C. He picked up the phone once more, dialing the number he'd committed to memory. One ring. Two rings. "This is the voicemail of Grace Goeren. Leave a message at the beep." "Gracey! It's Duane. Listen, dear, I know you're in a bad place right now, and I want you to know that I'm here for you, okay? Just...get ahold of me, okay? I'm...I'm worried about you, Grace. This is a crucial time in your career, and I don't want you going down into the darkness. Remember what we talked about, Grace...this is your time. YOURS, nobody else's. Call me, stop by anytime, whatever you need. I'm here. Just...just call me, okay?" He sighed, hanging up. Things were not going well. |
![]() |
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| « Previous Topic · The Warrior's Den · Next Topic » |







10:51 AM Jul 11