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| Tweet Topic Started: Jun 27 2016, 08:13 AM (17 Views) | |
| Alyssa Marie | Jun 27 2016, 08:13 AM Post #1 |
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EWA Vice President of Operations
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June 18th 2016 Boston, MA This was hell. Alyssa had been parked in a rented Honda Civic just down the street from Michael Draven’s duplex condominium for hours now, scoping out the place. Ironically enough, Michael himself was currently in Buffalo, doing the exact same thing to her - or so he thought. Alex and Chris had become painfully aware of his presence around the academy in the past few days, in a crusty old van that looked like it might fall apart if it hit the wrong pothole. They had waited for days for him to make a move, trying to figure out what exactly he was doing lingering around Buffalo, but he’d never struck. Just hovered around, like an insect. Typical Draven. He was never a man of action. This was her opportunity to strike. She’d been holed up in the academy for weeks now, training in preparation for her match against Maggie McIntyre. She’d made strides in the ring, but at the end of the day, she knew just as well as Alex did that she didn’t stand much of a chance in a fair fight. Alyssa Marie Haven was never a fighter. In the early days of her husband’s career, she was happy to distract a referee with a short skirt, or to slide a foreign object in the ring, all in the name of supporting Alex's career. But these days? These days, women fought - and they didn’t just fight each other. The gender barrier hadn’t just been broken - it had been shattered, with the EWA having not one but two female World Heavyweight Champions since returning. Alyssa had no aspirations at becoming a full fledged competitor in the ring, but she recognized the need to be able to defend herself - and fight back, if need be. She’d been successful in defending off Maggie’s attacks for the most part. A tire iron to the knee had bought her a few more weeks to train, but at Path of the Warrior, a steel cage would lock not only the two women in - but the rest of the world out, and any advantage Alyssa had would be negated. She could sense McIntyre’s confidence heading into the match. In truth, she’d become little more than an afterthought to the rookie. McIntyre had become so utterly consumed by Indrid Calder and his morbid games that she had forgotten evil comes in more than one shape and size. Alyssa couldn’t tear Maggie apart mentally like Calder seemed to relish doing, and it was hard to appear scary in the shadow of a man such as The Stranger. Still, her best option at obtaining any kind of of advantage against the rookie was to enact her strongest weapon - her mind games and manipulation. Besides, if Michael Draven wanted to play games with The Youth, she’d be happy to oblige. She, however, had no intention of observing Draven’s duplex from a urine soaked van. The Honda Civic she’d rented at the airport was bad enough. She intended fully on entering the condo, and finding...something. Anything that would help her throw McIntyre off her game. There was the small matter of obtaining access to Draven’s home, however. The idiot had been smart enough to remove his key taped to the bottom of the doormat, and the maintenance man had surely been briefed by Draven as to Alyssa’s departure by now. So she waited. For what, she wasn’t sure - but one way or another, she was getting into that building. Drifting off to sleep as she waited, she was suddenly startled by the arrival of a van, parking across the street. A woman Alyssa recognized as Michael’s cleaning lady during her time spent living with Draven exited the white economy van, and grabbed a bag of laundry and a bucket of supplies from the back. Sure enough, she entered Draven’s apartment. She’d be done in about thirty minutes, Alyssa thought. Surely she’d know that Alyssa had moved out by now - right? It was her best option, regardless. Maybe she’d get to try out that superkick she’d been practicing. Alyssa Marie Haven strolled casually down the Boston street, her eyes hidden behind a pair of oversized sunglasses. Clutching a few reusable shopping bags filled with groceries, she was clad in a summery floral print dress that barely covered her curves in the front or the back. When she walked, the skirt had a bounce that sometimes exposed a little more than intended. She coughed, gagging at the scent of dead fish and body odor that she’d come to associate with this wretched hole of a city, before turning off the street and ascending a few stairs to one of the buildings lining the street. Crossing the barrier of the door, she had hoped the inside would offer some relief from the horrible city air, she found the air in hallway inside to be only marginally better. Michael Draven’s building. God, she hated this place. Right on time, she found the door to the condo swinging shut. The cleaner, a middle-aged Russian woman had just exited, carrying a bag now likely filled with Michael’s dirty underwear, and her trusty bucket full of cleaning supplies. She looked weary and tired - as if she hadn’t slept in days. Or perhaps she was just shell shocked by what a slob Draven is. “Maria! It’s been so long! How are you?!” The woman, with her weathered face and hair dyed an unnatural shade of red, turned her head to inspect the source of her greeting. A look of confusion and recognition set in, as she furrowed her brow and studied Alyssa Marie. “Miss Ah-leesa?” It was all Alyssa could do not to grimace at her Russian accent. Like nails on a chalkboard, she thought. Maria came by every other day to gather his laundry and clean up the apartment, because Michael was so inept he couldn’t even take care of his own basic necessities. Typical. During her time with Draven, Maria had often been the only human contact Alyssa had outside of Draven himself. Shockingly, however, a friendship had failed to materialize during the hour the Russian immigrant spent scrubbing the toilets every day while Alyssa watched bad daytime TV. “Yes, Maria, it’s me! Be a dear and get the door for me, will you? My hands are absolutely full!” Maria glanced at the door, and back at Alyssa. She gazed at the younger woman, skeptically. “I not see you around lately. I stop coming in January when you stop paying, and when Mr. Draven’s brother call me last month - you not around anymore.” Alyssa laughed casually, as she set down the grocery bags. “I've been away on business, dear. Did Michael forget to pay you? I asked Erik to check up on him - he must have called you back like I asked, obviously. Oh my god, Maria, are those new earrings? I love them!” She reached out a hand to stroke one of Maria’s long dangling earrings. Thank god Erik hired the same damn cleaning lady. Attention to detail didn’t exactly run in the family, it seemed. “You have to tell me where you got those earrings! They’re adorable!” Kohl’s. On the clearance rack, probably. I wouldn’t be caught dead in those things, she thought. Even the dead have better fashion sense. Maria recoiled slightly at her touch. Perfect. So much for the old friends routine. This wasn’t going to be as easy as she had hoped, but she wasn’t quite out of tricks yet. “I see other girl in pictures. Younger girl. Pretty-ish girl, in rough sort of way.” Maybe she wasn’t as stupid as Alyssa thought. “Oh, you must mean Maggie! My little sister! She’s going to school at BU, and Michael was nice enough to let her stay here for awhile when she broke up with her boyfriend.” A look of shock came over Maria’s face. “Your see-ster?!” “Yes, my sister! Why do you ask?” “No reason! Maria know nothing! Have to go! Late for other job!” Clearly, Maria had witnessed some behavior in those photos that had indicated to her Maggie and Michael had been coexisting as more than just friends. As Maria attempted to scurry by her, Alyssa Marie stepped in her path. “Maria, you look like you’ve seen a ghost...is there something I should know?” “None of my business, Miss Ah-leesa. Maria clean! Maria see nothing!” “Please, Maria...I want to make Michael dinner before he gets home and surprise him, but the airlines lost my luggage and my keys were in there. Be a dear and let me in, please?” “Mr. Draven not home. He gone for days.” She sighed, and let out a loud whine. The maid wasn’t buying any of this. Time for a new approach. “Okay, Maria. Enough bullshit. I know Michael has been cheating on me with my sister.” Maria gasped, and stumbled backward in shock. “Maria no tell you! Maria need this job!” “Relax, Maria. All I want is to get my stuff out of his place, and in order for that to happen, I need you to open this door for me. How much is it gonna cost me?” Maria’s demeanor changed suddenly, as she became calm and collected. It seemed that, as with most people, money talked to Maria. “Two hundred dollar. You never see Maria. And keep it clean, no? Maria just finish.” “Three hundred - and no promises.” Alyssa reached into her bra, gathering three hundred dollar bills and passing them to the Russian cleaner, who deposited them in a similar - but probably much more sweaty - hiding place. She unlocked the door, and placed a hand on Alyssa’s shoulder. “You make that bastard pay. Maria never like him. Slob. Lives like manchild. You deserve better.” “Oh, don’t worry. I know that.” Maria gathered her things, and began to walk away as Alyssa stepped through the threshold to the now open door, and into the place she had called home for what felt like an eternity - Michael Draven’s condo. She was glad she didn't have to superkick Maria. She'd save it for Maggie. She hit the record button on her cell phone, holding it selfie style to capture her good side. Hell, who was she kidding. She didn’t have a bad side. “Hey, Mags! You don’t mind if I call you Mags, do you? Anyways, I thought I’d do a little homage to you in this video. I know you’re so fond of recording your drivel via cell phone camera - which isn’t surprising. Makes it feel more personal, doesn’t it? Really helps you connect with your audience. In your case, all the neckbeards living in their parents basement, writing fan fiction about having a threesome with you and Hello Kitty, and fapping nightly to your saggy B cups.and your pale white….well, I’m hesitant to call it skin, because skin is supposed to look...alive. Not like whatever you’ve got going on there. Have you ever met the sun? Anyways, I’ve heard you loud and clear lately, professing your hate for me. Like you’re leading some sort of a revolution against the Queen Bitch, and that this is your big chance to take a shot at dethroning me. Knocking me down a rung. Like this is finally going to put an end to the whole saga. This isn’t Mean Girls, and you aren’t Lindsay Lohan, sweetie. Although you treat your liver like you are. This time, there are no happy endings. You may gain some sense of satisfaction getting your hands on me finally, but the wars I wage are fought in other ways. Unlike you, I don’t have to resort to violence to settle my scores - and the scars I leave last forever. Just ask Michael. I’d ask him myself, but...well, he’s not home. He’s back in Buffalo, trying to will himself into growing a set of nuts and confronting my husband. You’re not home, either. But don’t worry. The place is fine. Looks great, really.” Alyssa spins around slowly, displaying a full view of Michael Draven’s duplex. “Hope you don’t mind, I let myself in. I mean, after all - I did live here once. If you wanna call pretending to be interested in Michael Draven for two months “living.” As previously discussed, you may already be clinically dead based on your skin, so living probably isn’t of much concern to you. And good thing, because you’ve chosen to fall in love with Michael Draven!” Alyssa walks slowly towards the bedroom, talking as she goes. “I think the real issue between us is less about you and me, and more about Draven himself - don’t you think? I mean, isn’t that really where all this hatred you have for me comes from? The fact that the man you love once called me the love of his life - and I left him broken. Not just heart-broken...but completely, and totally broken. As pathetic as he was then, I left him a shell of a man. A sad imitation of an already worthless excuse of a human being. A shell of a man you couldn’t wait to pounce on. That's your type, sweetie? You can do better. I guess misery really does love company, huh? And what a relationship it’s been thus far! Domestic abuse situations aside, of course. I mean, other than that one little hiccup where he tried to end your life in a blind rage, I think you guys have been going pretty strong. You’ve only had one or two or seven breakups or fights since then, right? I mean, that’s totally normal, I assure you, as somebody who is highly skilled at carrying on functional romantic relationships. Not at all a warning sign. You guys are gonna be just fine. Really.” Alyssa smirks, as she spins the camera around to show she is entering the bedroom of Draven’s home. “Ugh, this bedroom. You really should do something about the decor in here, but considering you’re own personal fashion theme seems to be dumpster-chic, I’m not surprised that you find these acceptable living conditions. If these walls could talk, they’d nominate me for an Academy Award for all the acting I had to do in here. I mean, honestly, Maggie - woman to woman - do you feel ANYTHING when he enters you? I thought it was his pinky. Swear to god. It wasn’t all bad memories in here, though. One time he fell asleep on the couch and I got to watch a whole season of Orange Is The New Black. It was literally the most fun I had the entire time I was here. But silly me, you know, the real reason I came by today was to grab a few things I left behind. You know, bobby pins, my copy of the Bible, this pair of panties I gave to Michael…” Alyssa opens up the top drawer of what is presumably Michael Draven’s dresser, and produces a pair of lacey pink panties. “I mean, lord knows these aren’t your Hanes boyshorts. I’m surprised he still has them though...seems weird, right? I mean, after what I did, you’d think he would want to… Well, enough negativity. That’s not my problem. I’m sure, he just, you know...forgot. To throw out my panties. I mean, it’s totally normal to keep mementos of your ex’s around the house after your new girlfriend has all but moved in, right? I mean, I’m sure if we looked around a little more, we wouldn’t find anything else, would we?” Alyssa turns the camera around to face the bed, and reaches between the box spring and the mattress, producing a picture frame. “Oh my god, how did a picture of Michael and me get under the mattress?! And on his side of the bed, if I remember correctly. It’s a terrible picture really. Of him. I don’t take bad pictures. Erik took this picture for us when he came over for dinner one night. They had all but welcomed me into the family, Mags. We were gonna be so happy together! Me, Erik, Michael and….well, I guess that’s the whole family, since they murdered everyone else. I know what you’re thinking, Maggie. That I probably planted those things there, huh? That I broke in here solely for the amusement of making you doubt your relationship and commitment to Michael Draven by placing mementos of us all over his apartment? Or maybe they were here already. I mean, how can you trust a man with a track record of questionable judgement as big as Michael’s? Too bad it’s the only big thing he’s got going for him. No, Maggie, that’s not the reason I came here today - just a pleasant surprise, waiting for me here, if you will. I came here to refocus you on one thing and one thing only, Maggie. I understand Indrid Calder is a terrifying man, and it seems he’s developed a little crush on you, hasn’t he? Probably that zombie like complexion again. But you’ve let him consume you, and all the while, you’ve forgotten about me. Do I seem like a woman that’s easily forgotten about? Again…ask Michael. Mr. Calder is an evil man, Maggie, but evil comes in more than one form. It’s not all blood and guts and horror - the destruction I leave is not so easily seen. You say he’s done my bidding once before, so who’s to say he does not again? Too busy staring at the puppet to look up and see who might be pulling the strings. Queens aren’t made overnight, and I’m certainly not going down just because they lock me in a steel cage with a pathetic little whore like you. Calder may be ruining your sleep, Maggie, but I’ve got my eye on the bigger picture. I ruin lives. And it’s YOU, my dear, who are in the crosshairs.” END RECORDING |
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10:51 AM Jul 11