Yeah right… I’m so sure. A draw? With that arrogant, five foot, eleven inch bastard, Joey Jackson? Yeah right. There is no possible way that could have happened. I can handle a loss… kinda… and I can handle a win. Yay for winning. But a draw? That is unacceptable. I hadn’t left the arena yet, instead, had pretty much locked myself in the Frost Inc. dressing room. I sat in silence upon the couch, staring quietly down at a complimentary veggie tray. My fingers were curled around an exceptionally long piece of celery stick. My gaze locked upon the greenish-white celery stick in my hands, dull fingernails raking up and down the soft cells. Those cells gathered beneath my nails before I picked them out with my teeth.
It wasn’t long before my fingers curled around the edges of the celery stick. Apply a counter-force of my thumb in the center of the celery, my fingers bent downwards. With a light snap and the tearing of celery threads, the celery stick was bent in two. Soon, the celery was chucked across the room, slapping against the wall and sliding down on the floor. I got to my feet, growing blinded by my own rage. The veggie tray was picked up and pelted against the opposing wall. It instantly smacked the vanity table and almost literally exploded. The table it had laid upon previously was soon over-turned by a swift kick from a big, black boot.
The next victim, a wooden chair. The chair was picked up in both hands and flung at the door, bending the door off its hinges. The door collapsed into the hallway, clattering loudly, as well as the shattered remains of the chair. I hastily looked around the room for something to throw or break, heading straight for the over-turned table. The table was put back on its legs. I pulled myself on top of it, the legs in my muscles coiling as I prepared to jump upwards and descend down with all my weight.
When I looked up from the table, after crashing through it, ready to break something else, I found the strangely pale Demonica leaning against the doorframe, with her arms folded; a quirky smile on her face.
“You missed the mirror on the wall. That'd be what I would go for next.” Her words were calm, and not so much mocking as they were as-a-matter-of-fact I raised my brow, promptly bending over to pick up an unbroken leg of the table. I held it tightly in my hands, sneering a bit at her, almost cynically.
“Gladly,” I mumbled quietly, moving over to the vanity table and taking up a baseball batting stance. Arms swung out, fingers clutching the leg. After a quick whip, the glass of the mirror shattered, some shards of glass imploding outwards. Some reflective shards burrowed themselves into pale flesh. I threw the leg of the chair away and looked down at my bleeding hands. Great… I thought to myself. That was all I needed.
I watched as Demonica's smile grew into more of a smirk. She walked over and looked at the wounds on my hands for a second. Suddenly, she rips a shard of glass from my flesh and licks the blood as if it were second nature. I had barely winced. I had no need to wince for my adrenaline rush blocked out all the pain. Her pale green eyes never leave my own as she does cleaned the sharp glass with her tongue.
“Not too bad.” It was hard for even me to tell if she was talking about the taste of my blood or admiring the damage done to the room. Probably a little of both.
“Need anymore suggestions, or is it out of your system, Gwenny?” She stayed standing right in front of the, what most would call, aggressive woman: meaning me. I crossed my arms over my chest, brow raised. I was still rather riled, but the list of things to smash and break was decreasing rapidly. However, the pretty, little thing before me looked like an admirable target. However, I wouldn’t stoop that low. Inanimate objects were much more fun to kick the shit out of.
“Not outta me system, but I’d rather not have any more glass in me skin.” I said quietly, holding out my hands and silently beginning to pick out shards of the reflective glass. The pieces were promptly dropped onto the ground at my feet. I looked up at her again after a few moments of picking the glass out before the adrenaline wore off. I looked her straight in the eye, as she was the same height as me, give or take a few millimeters.
“So what the fuck do you want?” I asked rather harshly, turning my back to her. I went searching for my cigarettes in my duffle bag, drawing them out. I pulled one out and lit it quickly, searching for an ashtray or at least a makeshift one to tap the tobacco ash into. Demonica laughed at the question sinisterly, as if she had heard a joke that was amusing. I found no joke. I noted the almost twisted glee that was obvious in her eyes.
“Are you sure that's the question you wanted to ask? I think a better one is what do you want?” Her tongue seemed to play with her teeth before she continued to speak. I was about to say something like, I’m pretty sure that’s what I asked but she beat me to the punch. “I might just have that very thing. I can feel your frustration and anger. You are directing it in the wrong place though.” Smugly, she took the cigarette from my mouth and took a drag off of it before extending it back to me. I raised my brow slightly, taking the cigarette from her. I hated it when people did that. I just lit the fucking thing, Woman. Exhaling, she continued: “I want more than this place has to offer, and so do you. What I'm suggesting, in the end, will be inevitable.”
Intrigued, yes. Wouldn’t you be? I raised my brow slightly, picking up the ashtray which had been dumped all over the floor. I plopped down on the couch, long legs stretching outwards, my black jeans hanging loosely off my legs. My fingers curled around the ashtray, pushing it back and forth along my thigh. I chewed on the inside of my cheek, letting my head fall back against the back of the couch.
“Well, spit it out, Woman. Ain’t much in the mood for games at the moment,” I said rather flatly, bringing the cigarette to my lips. The filter was taken between my lips, between the middle and left-most ring of my lip. The smoke was drawn into my lungs, before being exhaled out my nose or my lips, which every came first.
“No, no you aren't.” The life faded from her eyes as if it was never there. The pale jade orbs looked cold and harsh. “Work with me and we can have everything we want here.” I silently listened to her, drawing from my cigarette. She crossed by me and sat on the back of the couch. I tilted my head back a bit to watch her, warily. Pushing back her raven hair, she appeared almost too at ease with someone she didn't even know. “Together we can make N.E.W. our playground… and their roster… our toys.”
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
