05-31-2021, 12:52 PM
06-02-2021, 09:29 PM
06-02-2021, 10:06 PM
OOC: With multiple Habs games and freelancing taken up for time, a shorter, but I hope, pointed offering.
Pat Evans had spent the next five days spending his time, trying to outline exactly what he wanted to do to his stepbrother, Anthony, the man he presumed had stolen whatever was in the trunk in his apartment. What exactly was in that trunk. To many, nothing particularly important. To Pat, something that had become his everything. It was a collection of old history books, all acquired from his deceased father. Whether they were valuable or not was irrelevant to Pat. They represented his love for reading and a tie to his family, otherwise from which he was estranged. To Anthony, though, the books always were seen as being worth something and given his proclivities for illegal activity and needing a quick buck, he only assumed.
The police investigation largely had yet turned up nothing. They took Pat’s statement and his detailed notes of what was located inside and intended to contact Anthony Evans, who had since dropped off the grid. This left Pat incensed.
So he turned to one place he felt he could at least lose himself…writing. But not in writing creatively, or fictional work. Writing a note of what he intended to do to Anthony Evans.
“You have been a complete drain on this family since my father’s death. I stress my as you merely were someone he accepted upon marrying mom and you always felt everything was owed to you when you realized it was not a broken home. Too bad I intend to ensure you feel broken again.”
The page was then ripped off the yellow legal pad, crumpled up in the hand of Pat Evans and thrown into a nearby wastebasket. Several crumpled up papers file the basket. Pat sighed, turning and grabbing a glass of Maker’s Mark, taking a sip, before putting it back down. He moved back to the legal pad.
“You are a complete waste of space. Your dalliances have made you an embarrassment. He gave them to me, not you, because you never understood the true value of things and should we ever meet again, I will ensure that you will wish you were imprisoned permanently!”
Pat again ripped the page off and crumpled it up before throwing it into the nearby wastebasket. Pat sighed, turning to the wastebasket. Realizing the papers themselves were incriminating enough, and only served to distract from the reality of any investigation, Pat had a solution too. He grabbed the wastebasket, moving toward the bathroom. Entering inside, he stepped over to the shower/bathtub combination and placed the wastebasket, fortunately metal, inside. He then sighed as he stepped out of the bathroom, over to a hallway closet and opening it, grabbing a book of matches, something Pat had gotten in the habit of keeping through his domicile in case of blackouts. He walked back to the bathroom, quickly breaking off a match and lighting it. To be sure, he lights the other matches before throwing the lit book into the wastebasket, watching it keenly as it lit aflame.
Pat just watched the wastebasket, allowing the flames to do the work of disintegrating the potentially volatile evidence. A few moments pass, the papers long indecipherable, before Pat calmly walks over to the shower, turning it on and pulling the plug on the lower drain, the shower expelling water all over the wastebasket, which was perfectly placed. Pat stepped back, allowing the flames to be engulfed by the water. He the sighs again before waiting a few moments longer to be sure, and then turning the shower off. Pat then watched the now soaked tinders before stepping out of the bathroom and across to the kitchen, grabbing his cell phone. Though unwilling to often use the phone for much else beyond phone calls, he relented this time, using it to film his promo.
------
Kandis…I assume you’re going to be licking your lips in anticipation for this one. I’ve said some unflattering things about you. I stand by every one. You still are at best a hanger on, someone who would rather steal the spotlight instead of earn it, and someone who frankly, aims to use their body to get ahead when there’s nothing particularly “thirst”-inducing there, but I digress.
I assume all of that will anger you as you have become a very angry person. It’s why you would allow for someone like Minerva to do your dirty work, assaulting Peyton in the confines of her private home. It’s why you would also ride this to additional attention and why no doubt, you’re looking forward to this week as should you take me down, it would shut down a detractor and give you something to rub in the face of any who doubt you.
Come up for air from macking on your partner, and think for a moment.
This is not just a match. Sure, there will be a winner or a loser. For personal reasons, I’d like to win. For professional reasons, you need to. Professionally though, my job is to teach you a lesson, that your tactics are no longer appropriate and that…that doesn’t require a win. So let’s just lay our cards on the table. While you’ll look to teach me a lesson, mine is much simpler. Mine is to remind you just how dangerous I am and how dangerous it is to go on the path you’re taking. Doubt I can do this? Just ask your partner, Tommy. He’s not been active in the ring since I took him down and tweaked his leg. And one swift motion from me is all that’s needed for me to succeed come Breakdown. And oh yes, the fans will cheer too.
You however will look to do the same, but I know for you it will be with the hope of one good kick. Something I will see coming. Something that you can only do from standing. And while for me, I can be successful from any angle. I could go for the leg, like I did dear Tommy. But I could choke you out…tweak your arm…separate a joint…and you will have to defend from it all. Tommy could come and stop me, but then again, that would not allow you to fulfill what you want…what you’ll crave…to humiliate me.
So give it your best shot. There may not be good a photo this time. It certainly won’t make anyone thirsty. But trust me Kandis that I am in no mood to be trifled with these days. Call me whatever you want – a stooge, a pawn, someone who sold out…I am doing a job…
…
I felt I need to pause so someone less creative could offer the sexist joke against you at this point. Don’t like it? I mean what’s the difference between what you did and someone doing the same. They took the easy way to getting some attention.
Again, I digress.
My point…I am doing a job. A job I am being compensated appropriately for and one I intend to make sure I earn my paycheque. Anything further is a bonus. And for you, I don’t intend to give any bonuses. I just plan to force you to suffer regret. Regret for every actions you’ve taken in 2021. You may not enjoy it, but I will.
Pat Evans had spent the next five days spending his time, trying to outline exactly what he wanted to do to his stepbrother, Anthony, the man he presumed had stolen whatever was in the trunk in his apartment. What exactly was in that trunk. To many, nothing particularly important. To Pat, something that had become his everything. It was a collection of old history books, all acquired from his deceased father. Whether they were valuable or not was irrelevant to Pat. They represented his love for reading and a tie to his family, otherwise from which he was estranged. To Anthony, though, the books always were seen as being worth something and given his proclivities for illegal activity and needing a quick buck, he only assumed.
The police investigation largely had yet turned up nothing. They took Pat’s statement and his detailed notes of what was located inside and intended to contact Anthony Evans, who had since dropped off the grid. This left Pat incensed.
So he turned to one place he felt he could at least lose himself…writing. But not in writing creatively, or fictional work. Writing a note of what he intended to do to Anthony Evans.
“You have been a complete drain on this family since my father’s death. I stress my as you merely were someone he accepted upon marrying mom and you always felt everything was owed to you when you realized it was not a broken home. Too bad I intend to ensure you feel broken again.”
The page was then ripped off the yellow legal pad, crumpled up in the hand of Pat Evans and thrown into a nearby wastebasket. Several crumpled up papers file the basket. Pat sighed, turning and grabbing a glass of Maker’s Mark, taking a sip, before putting it back down. He moved back to the legal pad.
“You are a complete waste of space. Your dalliances have made you an embarrassment. He gave them to me, not you, because you never understood the true value of things and should we ever meet again, I will ensure that you will wish you were imprisoned permanently!”
Pat again ripped the page off and crumpled it up before throwing it into the nearby wastebasket. Pat sighed, turning to the wastebasket. Realizing the papers themselves were incriminating enough, and only served to distract from the reality of any investigation, Pat had a solution too. He grabbed the wastebasket, moving toward the bathroom. Entering inside, he stepped over to the shower/bathtub combination and placed the wastebasket, fortunately metal, inside. He then sighed as he stepped out of the bathroom, over to a hallway closet and opening it, grabbing a book of matches, something Pat had gotten in the habit of keeping through his domicile in case of blackouts. He walked back to the bathroom, quickly breaking off a match and lighting it. To be sure, he lights the other matches before throwing the lit book into the wastebasket, watching it keenly as it lit aflame.
Pat just watched the wastebasket, allowing the flames to do the work of disintegrating the potentially volatile evidence. A few moments pass, the papers long indecipherable, before Pat calmly walks over to the shower, turning it on and pulling the plug on the lower drain, the shower expelling water all over the wastebasket, which was perfectly placed. Pat stepped back, allowing the flames to be engulfed by the water. He the sighs again before waiting a few moments longer to be sure, and then turning the shower off. Pat then watched the now soaked tinders before stepping out of the bathroom and across to the kitchen, grabbing his cell phone. Though unwilling to often use the phone for much else beyond phone calls, he relented this time, using it to film his promo.
------
Kandis…I assume you’re going to be licking your lips in anticipation for this one. I’ve said some unflattering things about you. I stand by every one. You still are at best a hanger on, someone who would rather steal the spotlight instead of earn it, and someone who frankly, aims to use their body to get ahead when there’s nothing particularly “thirst”-inducing there, but I digress.
I assume all of that will anger you as you have become a very angry person. It’s why you would allow for someone like Minerva to do your dirty work, assaulting Peyton in the confines of her private home. It’s why you would also ride this to additional attention and why no doubt, you’re looking forward to this week as should you take me down, it would shut down a detractor and give you something to rub in the face of any who doubt you.
Come up for air from macking on your partner, and think for a moment.
This is not just a match. Sure, there will be a winner or a loser. For personal reasons, I’d like to win. For professional reasons, you need to. Professionally though, my job is to teach you a lesson, that your tactics are no longer appropriate and that…that doesn’t require a win. So let’s just lay our cards on the table. While you’ll look to teach me a lesson, mine is much simpler. Mine is to remind you just how dangerous I am and how dangerous it is to go on the path you’re taking. Doubt I can do this? Just ask your partner, Tommy. He’s not been active in the ring since I took him down and tweaked his leg. And one swift motion from me is all that’s needed for me to succeed come Breakdown. And oh yes, the fans will cheer too.
You however will look to do the same, but I know for you it will be with the hope of one good kick. Something I will see coming. Something that you can only do from standing. And while for me, I can be successful from any angle. I could go for the leg, like I did dear Tommy. But I could choke you out…tweak your arm…separate a joint…and you will have to defend from it all. Tommy could come and stop me, but then again, that would not allow you to fulfill what you want…what you’ll crave…to humiliate me.
So give it your best shot. There may not be good a photo this time. It certainly won’t make anyone thirsty. But trust me Kandis that I am in no mood to be trifled with these days. Call me whatever you want – a stooge, a pawn, someone who sold out…I am doing a job…
…
I felt I need to pause so someone less creative could offer the sexist joke against you at this point. Don’t like it? I mean what’s the difference between what you did and someone doing the same. They took the easy way to getting some attention.
Again, I digress.
My point…I am doing a job. A job I am being compensated appropriately for and one I intend to make sure I earn my paycheque. Anything further is a bonus. And for you, I don’t intend to give any bonuses. I just plan to force you to suffer regret. Regret for every actions you’ve taken in 2021. You may not enjoy it, but I will.