(Erica): Fuk it!
She grabs her phone from off the table going to the HWA app and launches the video recording component sending out a live feed.
(Erica): Que pasa, pendejos!
She takes a drag of her cigarette blowing smoke off to the side from the corner of her mouth. She tilts her head back, and closes her eyes a moment before looking back at the camera. You could tell she was well on her way to being drunk, but for now remained coherent and articulate.
(Erica): Hey……hey……HWA Universe…..Fanverse…or whatever the fuk you’re called. I got one for ya. What did Sean’s dick say to Michelle’s disappointing pussy?
She chuckles lightly letting the questions sink in, taking another drag.
(Erica): It said… “No hard feelings!”
Erica bursts out laughing, slapping her hand on the table and her head whips back again.
(Erica): Oh fuk!
She chuckles once more, laughter dying down and pours another shot downing it, suddenly looking somber.
(Erica): My poor Maestro. It’s you fuks fault, fuking fans and shit. I hate your asses. You know what…..you know what? You make me sick. He’s a fuking legend, Ese! Dónde está tu pinche respeto? I hate seeing him like this man. It’s not fair. They did this to him, Butch and Hans, and Wisdom and that fuking Jap motherfuker. You’re all in it.
Erica starts to tear up, one falling down her face, a second she sniffles back, taking another shot.
(Erica): I don’t like seeing him so conflicted. Where was his confidence, his edge, his decisive conviction that told these little fuks exactly who he was, how much they were going to respect him, and how much he was going to hurt him? DreamMaster went away only to have them fill his head with doubt, and stupid regret and for what?
For Matt? For putting Sarah’s ass in her place? You got less than what you deserved the both of you. You shouldn’t be walking Matt, but I’ll settle for seeing you tag along behind Jeremy. You all saw his ass at Havoc with the newbs at Before the Bell, he can’t even get in the ring to train them. He has to coach from the outside. This is the kind of shit I’m talking about. Like…how the fuk are you even still here? They’re literally paying you to do nothing.
She pours another shot but doesn’t drink it right away. She closes her eyes and her head wobbles from side to side as if she’s lost in another world or starting to fall asleep, before once more her eyes open and she refocuses.
(Erica): Oh, and don’t think I forgot about you Wolfy. What the fuk kind of name is that shit? That’s some shit some kid calls their dog when they can’t think of anything better. That’s exactly what you are too, Hans’ pinche perro! Some fuking stray he dragged off the street and threw a bone. You come into our house pissin’ and shittin all over the place…I can’t wait for Blood, Sweat and Tears. I’m gonna watch Tobias house train your ass. If I were 100% I’d jump in that Lumberjack match myself just to see the moment when your tail curls up between your legs. Perro! Pinche perro pedazo de mierda!
She goes to grab her glass but stops grunting “Fuk,” shuddering and pulls her leg off the table as from underneath a man lifts his head.
(Man): Damn mami, you can squirt. You like my shit?
He lifts up and sits down but she takes her leg and kicks him hard out of the booth and he hits the floor.
(Man): What the fuk?
He stands there looking at her, maybe expecting more, another round, a drink, some recognition for all his oral efforts. She ignores him entirely, taking that drink she poured and putting out her cigarette. He looks at her one more time…still nothing.
(Man): Fuking bitch!
He grabs his jacket off the floor and leaves her to herself, she snorts.
(Erica): What the fuk was I saying? Oh yeah…anyway Perro, enjoy that bone of yours. Nothing Hans gives lasts, trust me, I know. You see that bitch of his at Havoc try and show me up. “I’m pregnant!”
Erica mocks Vanessa in a whiney, annoying voice.
(Erica): He knocked me up first bitch. I lost the baby when he tried to cripple me in the ring. He even dragged mi madre into it, lying to her. Falsifying documents to have her believe I wasn’t pregnant. I know my fuking body. Who did they believe? Him of course. Butch forced me into that match. They think I’m crazy, I made all that shit up, I’m lying, I’m seeing things, I got mental issues. There’s nothing wrong with me bitches, there’s something wrong with all of you.
The barman brings her over a plate of Buffalo wings, celery, carrots, and blue cheese dressing.
(Erica): The fuk I want with this?
She starts picking out the celery and carrot sticks and throwing them across the room.
(Erica): Why? Why do they always put this shit in here? Nobody eats this shit!
The barman yells “Hey” and she throws her hand up.
(Erica): Sorry, it fell.
Turning back to the camera she picks some meat off one of the wings and eats it.
(Erica): This shits terrible, but whatever. I know what I wanted to say…..Hans. After everything you did to me, everything you said. How you set me up, maimed me, continuously try and humiliate me…I wish you the best at Blood, Sweat and Tears. You’re still better than that Mr. Miyagi motherfuker. You go in there….you go in there and beat his ass, you hear me.
Erica takes another shot.
(Erica): You go in there and break both his pinche ankles, he’s retiring anyway he doesn’t need them.
She starts laughing to herself out loud.
(Erica): He doesn’t need them!
Her laughter continues and she’s just about drunk at this point.
(Erica): Hey…hey….I wanna tell you something….escúchame…. escúchame….I’m serious, I’m speaking from the fuking heart Ese….I need your help. You have to help mi Maestro. You…
She points at the camera, her hands wobbly, eyes glassed over.
(Erica): You been around since he was…20 fuking years. You know him. He needs help. We can help him, you and me. I want him the way he was. I think….I think maybe he doesn’t want this match at the ppv….nope…..he doesn’t………he doesn’t wanna do it, but you call him. Tell him Jeremy is just a little noob, fuk, and, and, and…and he needs to be put in his place like Matt. You owe me…..you do this for me. No wait….wait…..I’ll pay you. Hey…..hey….
Erica looks around and puts her face close to the camera whispering.
(Erica): I’ll let you eat it! I won’t say nothing to her…promise!
She takes her finger sloppily crossing her chest and sits back against her seat. She’s just about finished off the whole bottle and foregoes the glass taking the bottle straight to her lips.
(Erica): You know what…that shoulda been me. That shoulda been me on Havoc, but they noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo, noooooooooooooooooooooooo they follow Sean. I’m hurt too, I had surgery too, I was in a wheelchair the last month, got this stupid boot and this fuking knee wheel thingy. Hey…you wanna hear my story? I’m gonna tell everybody my story because, because its better than his and they won’t…you see it’s a conspiracy. Only mi maestro knows it. Only….
Somewhere in her drunken stupor her thoughts return to Maniac and she realizes she’s been gone a while. Without another word she staggers up tossing money on the table, and makes her way out of the bar. There’s a line of cabs waiting, obviously very familiar with the need of service from this place and she throws her hands up hailing one, as if she couldn’t just walk up and get in. Her phone still on streaming.
(Erica): See, I’m a responsible woman…don’t drink and drive kids. Or drink and drive and die in some fuking crash, I don’t give a shit. Fuk you!
She gets in the back of the car, shows the driver the address to Maniac’s estate and slumps over in the seat. Over the next 30 minutes she had some sleepy, incoherent ramblings that her phone picked up, and is awakened when they arrive. She pays, probably too much just tossing money in the front seat and getting out of the car. She doesn’t remember the walk, but 10 minutes later she’s waking up again inside the estate. It’s late and quiet and she finds herself in the Zen room in a chair mumbling to herself completely forgetting her phone is still on and streaming.
(Erica): Motherfukers….I’ll kill you, leave him alone. Maestro…don’t….don’t be afraid….let him in. I…….I got your back jefe! I got your….
And she’s out cold, phone still recording in her lap tilted up towards her face. The door creeks and footsteps are heard entering the room. A hand reaches up, gently stroking her hear. A voice is heard, guttural, dark, and demonic, almost a growl.
(DreamMaster): Such loyalty! Don’t worry senorita, Antonio is in good hands.
Suddenly her phone is lifted from her lap and all you see next are a pair of red glowing eyes.
(DreamMaster): The same hands that will be on you at Blood, Sweat and Tears…Jeremy Branson.
DreamMaster tosses her phone back in Erica’s lap leaving her to her drunken sleep, we hear his footsteps again…the door creak open and close and the scene fades to black.
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