20 W 34th St., New York, NY 10001
She crumpled the paper tossing it to the ground as she looked up, staring at the Empire State Building. She pulled a wrapped gift from her bag, threw on a baseball cap and she was headed to 102nd floor, straight to the penthouse home of Hans von Richtoven. There were two penthouses there, but she knew which one was his from the address her maestro had given her, or perhaps as he might tell her “him”…DreamMaster had given her. It was quiet, unless the only nextdoor neighbors showed up she expected to be left alone.
She figured there would be cameras everywhere and kept her head down, even stepping from the elevator onto the hallway to Hans’ door. She knocked for the camera she knew was to the side of her turning her back to it, but leaning just enough for the package to be visible hoping to the casual glance she looked like someone making a delivery. The door had a modern electric lock, but she had done her research…or someone on the dark web had done her research for her and directed her to a security code descrambler that would work with this type of lock. Out of the camera’s eye the door was unlocked in about 60 seconds, and she entered quickly closing the door behind her the locks reengaging.
(Erica): Now this is a house…look at this place Hans….look at this view….
She rushed over to the windows looking out onto the city now darkening as the sun set, thousands of lights illuminating the streets and buildings below.
(Erica): I wanted to see what you promised me Hans, what you made me believe was possible before you snatched it away.
Erica goes to the kitchen opening the door. There’s no food inside, since they’ve been spending their time in their LA home, just some jarred condiments and things with lengthy expirations and variety of beverages, most notably a German beer which label read “Weltenburger Kloster Barock Dunkel at Drizly.”
(Erica): I don’t know what the fuk this says but I’m having one…you don’t mind do you Hansy? Look at this shit…
Erica pulls out a mini bottle of a Sparkling rosé and scoffs.
(Erica): Lemme guess, this is what that bitch drinks.
Erica tosses the bottle to the floor shattering it and walking off as she takes a swig of beer, followed a loud belch.
(Erica): I normally wouldn’t be so unlady like in your company Hansy, but our honeymoon is over, es verdad? I don’t have to hold my farts anymore, and you’ve shown the world just how much your shit stinks.
She saunters towards the living room area, the wraparound windows are really the star attraction of his space and she finds the button to turn on the gas fireplace. It’s stunning.
(Erica): You don’t know how much I thought about this.
She points to the floor beneath the fireplace.
(Erica): The things I’d have done to you right there Papi, things she could never do.
A glint catches the corner of her eye and she jumps to her feet with a gasp.
(Erica): No fuking way….mira…mira ete mierda!
Across the room she’s racing to a glass cabinet lined with championship belts. She opens the doors to the display case there they all are. The PWF Intercontinental Championship, his WWC French Champion, the HWA United States Champion that he never lost, HWA Intercontinental Champion, his Tag-Team Championship that he won with Anton, the coveted All-Star Champion, and the awesome HWA World Championship. Her hand brush over the belts, the cold touch of gold was exhilarating.
(Erica): This one…this is my favorite.
Erica pulls out the All Star Championship and puts it around her waist.
(Erica): I bet you fantasized about fuking me while you wore these belts, didn’t you Hans. Come on admit it, I know I did. Look at the diamonds in this star, you could have cut me so good. Such delightful pain, pressing this belt against me as thrust inside me.
Eric takes a swig of the German beer and continues her walk around the house, it’s a beautiful home and throughout there are various photos, some tasteful art that no doubt cost a pretty penny others common photos of friends and….
(Erica): Oh shit….
Erica grabs a framed photo from the wall and looks at it…
(Erica): ….I almost forgot you had a brother. He’s pretty cute, where is he at Papi…maybe I’ve been talking to the wrong brother. Maybe Erica von Richtoven isn’t off the table just yet…I get with your brother and maybe we both win here. We can fuk around on the side y nadie lo sabe. Would you like that? But, you’re gonna have to shower before come to me, I don’t want to smell that bitch on you.
She tosses the framed photo on the floor, the glass shattering it, and she walks along the hallway her hand swipes other photos on the wall knocking them off the wall glass shattering behind her. She passes a room that is clearly Hans’ home office space, and comes to a room that seems to have been repurposed into an art room. She laughs to herself…
(Erica): Hey Puta,…Vanessa? How much you want to bet me you thought this room was going to be your nursery…you kids room. Look at this shit…
Erica goes through the room knocking over canvases, ripping drawings, squirting out tubes of pain and tossing others in bottles against the walls running the artwork and the space.
(Erica): That’s better, don’t you just fuking love abstract artsy fartsy shit? You see Papi…that’s a wasted space…all our fuking…you’d have son or daughter by now. This room would be full of love instead of full her bullshit. It’s just full of junk now though isn’t it.
Erica goes down the hall and comes to the master bedroom. It too has beautiful wrap around windows and it’s just a stunning space. She stands there in the doorway stunned, tears begin to form in her eyes and fall.
(Erica): This was supposed to be mine, supposed to be ours. You were supposed to leave her for me, this is my bed…those are my lamps.
She hadn’t noticed until now, but the lights in the house were motion sensored, and now that it was dark their illumination was very evident as she went along. The room smelled of him. Even after all these months away, despite perhaps the occasional visit, his essence lingered here. She walked into the closet and it was a large room of its own. Han’s suits both business and sports were perfectly organized. She grabbed the arm of a gray Dior suit.
(Erica): Dammmn….I could feel the quality of the thread in my hands. This had to be expensive, and look at this one.
She touched another walking down the rack of clothes and shoes sniffing them to smell him. She turned around and there was Vanessa’s clothes. She starts going through them with a frown on her face.
(Erica): Pequeña Puta! You quite your job pendeja, you don’t need fancy dresses do you.
Erica pulls a switch blade from her pocket and stars slicing into Vanessa’s designer dresses and other clothes.
(Erica): You take her out to eat Hans, she can wear what she belongs in…a fuking trashbag. You bought these for her didn’t you? Didn’t want some homely, bruja hanging on your arm…it was all you could do to make her look decent.
She slashed further at Vanessa’s clothes yanking them from the rack and tossing them around the room. She rips open a garment bag and is stunned into silence, and motionless. Once more tears come to her eyes as her hand reaches up to pull Vanessa’s wedding dress out of the bag. She clutches it to her chest dropping to her knees in tears.
(Erica): I do, I do, I do…..Si….
“…and do you Erica for your lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?
She can hear the priest in her head, and she nods vigorously as she lays on the floor clutching the wedding dress…
(Erica): I do, I do…
Erica gets to her feet and begins to undress and within seconds she stepping into the wedding dress, the tears stop as she does so and begins to pull the dress up. It’s tight, but she manages to pull it up, lift the straps over her shoulders and then a loud rip is heard. The side seam busts along with the other side rips. She’s bigger than Vanessa, and squeezed in she may have, but it wasn’t a fit the first step she took. The dress continued to rip as she moved and fury raised inside her. She screamed out loud as she ripped at it, pulling off strips and strands until it’s torn in half and to pieces.
(Erica): We don’t fit do we Hans? We never did. You played me for a fool, but whose the fool now?
Erica stomped back to the living room, never-minding her feet cutting on the glass she left in the hallway and she tosses the wedding dress into the fireplace, it blazes and smoke starts to rise. She returns to the bedroom and grabs her pants and shoes back on and takes one of Hans’s shirts putting it on and hugs herself.
(Erica): Do you think I’ll I forgive you? Do you think I still I love you Hans? You think you’re going to fight me at Havoc, bend me, break me, humble me….you’ve done that already….it’s my turn.
Erica reaches down into her pants fingering herself as she walks back through the house.
(Erica): I don’t care whose watching at Havoc, some kid in the front row or a whole girl scouts troop, I’ll make you eat me out right there in the ring Hans. I’ll make you eat my pussy and call me your queen when I’m finished with you. I don’t care that you’re a man, I’m going to beat you. I don’t care that you’re stronger, I’m going to out maneuver you. I don’t give a shit you’re more experience….nothing can withstand my determination. What you’ve done will not go unpunished.
She rushes through the house like a mad woman knocking over any everything in sight, breaking this, throwing that. She snatches up photos tossing them into the fire, onto what is left of the wedding dress. Flips over the display case of Championship belts, she grabs one but changes her mind about tossing in at as she takes the last gulp of German beer see’s the bottle flung against the large window that shatters but does not break apart. She walks over to it and stares at it.
(Erica): I could do it Hans…I could jump. I could jump right through this window and it would be your fault. How will you like it when everyone’s finger is pointed at you, when you can’t play the victim anymore? You and Butch and Wisdom….guilty of my death. I wonder how long before I hit the ground, how much of my brains are going to splatter? And this camera’s gonna record the whole thing. You piece of shit!
She looks around the house that’s been ransacked.
(Erica): No….no, not me. You! Te mataré! You all plotted against me…you touched me, you flirted, you put this inside me and lied to the world. Fuk your restraining order, it doesn’t apply here. You see, mi maestro’s smarter than you Hans. He gave me this address weeks ago, he had to have known what you were planning. He gave me this opportunity to prove you wrong, just like I’m going to do in a few days in Alaska.
She reaches down and grabs one of the championship belts and throws it at the shattered window now breaking it. The belt goes out the window, she doesn’t know and doesn’t care which one and a burst of wind from the high elevation rushes into the room giving life to the fire that trails up the wall. She begins to cough as smoke billows out of the fireplace and begins to fill the penthouse. She races out the door and to the elevator and steps in as the door begins to close, she sees the fire start to spread quickly from the wind and the alarm sounds, the fire system engages and begins to soak the penthouse as the door closes and the elevator is recalled to the lobby. As she steps out of the elevator it’s chaos in the lobby as residents, visitors, guests and employees evacuate onto the street. She races across 20th street to the opposite side and looks up, smoke coming from the penthouse on top now white, the fire system seeming to have largely worked and suppressed it. She’s out of breath from running as she looks at the camera.
(Erica): You won’t be so lucky at Havoc Hans. You started this fire inside of me, it’s burning beyond your control…y no hay nada que puedas hacer al respect!
Erica laughs hysterically before she starts crying and pulling her hair moving further away down the street.
(Erica): Si, maestro...after Havoc...prometo...prometo!
The scene fades to black as she ends and publishes the recording.
Message Thread
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