Hunting Party, Part Two
Sept 6, 2015 8:12:58 GMT -5
Post by Black Adder on Sept 6, 2015 8:12:58 GMT -5
Though the image is black the sound of voices are still heard as clearly as the sound of someone fumbling with the camera in desperation.
“Sorry, Han, it was an accident. It’s not broken.” The other voice was that of a female who sounded genuinely apologetic.
“I told you to wait in the other room; I didn’t want any distractions.” Despite the interruption there wasn’t anger in Hana’s voice, just minor annoyance.
“I just wanted to see how you work. I know so little about you when I should know everything.”
“I don’t want you to know about me. You know my name, my face, my voice…that’s good enough.”
“You’ll come around. I can be persistent. Guess it runs in the blood, right? Okay…gonna turn it back on now…”
~
The returned image is blurry at first but slowly starts to focus. A blurry figure hurriedly gets out of the way of the lens before the image fully focuses on the frowning face of the Black Adder herself, still clutching the arms of the chair albeit slightly more tightly. Her eyes look off to the right, watching something just off camera, but after a pause her gaze locks center and holds tight as she addresses the viewers once more.
“Well now, after a minor annoyance I do think it’s time to move on to the main course; that, naturally, being the presence of one Terrence Tillman. Mister Number One Contender himself, how fortunate you must feel, Terrence, knowing that regardless of the outcome of this six person affair that you’re still sitting pretty knowing that you’re just one rung under top dog status. Tell me, Terrence, are you going to thank the ‘fans’, thank the moronic simpletons who clap and holler for you just because you carry yourself like some kind of homecoming hero? Look at you, getting excited every time you wander towards the ring. Let’s see if you’ll be as excited knowing what’s coming your way.”
“This match provides an opportunity that I will not miss. The reason I have lackeys – and yes, they are just that; do not assume I would pair with either of them willingly - is so they can deal with the Weed Wonders while I, of course, focus on the only one that matters. And that’s you, Terrence. Do you feel special? You should. I pick my targets carefully and though the situation is not ideal…you were on the list.”
“I don’t care about 420 B.C., they are a distraction. It’s you I care about, Terrence, and it’s you that should be worried. Are you? Or are you simply brushing it off as posturing? As fluff from someone your overdeveloped, overconfident mind would rather ignore? Or maybe you’re embracing me, my words, my ways. Maybe you understand that when I pick a target, when I make promises…I deliver on them. And maybe, just maybe, somewhere in that cloyingly ingratiating mind you’re rightfully starting to sweat.”
“Terrific Terrence Tillman is in for a terribly traumatic trial…and that’s just from my end of the corner. Lackeys though they may be, I’m sure Baroness and Valcone are just as eager to take a piece of the would-be champion after they chew up and spit out the team that couldn’t even handle Germans or the sickening lovey dovey crap of Nelson and Cross – no doubt due to overindulgence. Really that’s the nature of your team, T.T. Overindulgence. The three of you have engorged yourself, be it on good will, drugs, or general positivity. Pick your poison. It was only a matter of time before someone came along and made you spew all that nonsense right back up.”
“Regardless of what happens, I intend on making sure you understand just who you’re dealing with, Terrence. Be happy that I’m giving you a warning, some haven’t been so lucky. But what’s a hunt without prey that tries so hard to survive, knowing full well they’re a target? The chase…the fight…the eventual triumph and satisfaction of delivering the kill…there’s nothing more satisfying and stimulating on this entire planet.”
As if to emphasize her point, Hana closes her eyes and inhales deeply. A smirk plays across her lips when she exhales.
“This hunt is overcrowded, but we make do with the conditions we are given. I’ve got time, Terrence. I can wait until your partners are disposed, and I can wait until you’re exposed. I do so hope you’ll try to make the Skyfall…because like your ‘High’ flying friends…it’s the fall that will kill you.”
“You’re a marked man, Terrence. Do with that what you will. And 420 B.C.? If you try and stop me you’ll regret leaving the hotbox. And my wonderful lackeys? Don’t get in my way.”
A final smirk.
A fade to black.
“Sorry, Han, it was an accident. It’s not broken.” The other voice was that of a female who sounded genuinely apologetic.
“I told you to wait in the other room; I didn’t want any distractions.” Despite the interruption there wasn’t anger in Hana’s voice, just minor annoyance.
“I just wanted to see how you work. I know so little about you when I should know everything.”
“I don’t want you to know about me. You know my name, my face, my voice…that’s good enough.”
“You’ll come around. I can be persistent. Guess it runs in the blood, right? Okay…gonna turn it back on now…”
~
The returned image is blurry at first but slowly starts to focus. A blurry figure hurriedly gets out of the way of the lens before the image fully focuses on the frowning face of the Black Adder herself, still clutching the arms of the chair albeit slightly more tightly. Her eyes look off to the right, watching something just off camera, but after a pause her gaze locks center and holds tight as she addresses the viewers once more.
“Well now, after a minor annoyance I do think it’s time to move on to the main course; that, naturally, being the presence of one Terrence Tillman. Mister Number One Contender himself, how fortunate you must feel, Terrence, knowing that regardless of the outcome of this six person affair that you’re still sitting pretty knowing that you’re just one rung under top dog status. Tell me, Terrence, are you going to thank the ‘fans’, thank the moronic simpletons who clap and holler for you just because you carry yourself like some kind of homecoming hero? Look at you, getting excited every time you wander towards the ring. Let’s see if you’ll be as excited knowing what’s coming your way.”
“This match provides an opportunity that I will not miss. The reason I have lackeys – and yes, they are just that; do not assume I would pair with either of them willingly - is so they can deal with the Weed Wonders while I, of course, focus on the only one that matters. And that’s you, Terrence. Do you feel special? You should. I pick my targets carefully and though the situation is not ideal…you were on the list.”
“I don’t care about 420 B.C., they are a distraction. It’s you I care about, Terrence, and it’s you that should be worried. Are you? Or are you simply brushing it off as posturing? As fluff from someone your overdeveloped, overconfident mind would rather ignore? Or maybe you’re embracing me, my words, my ways. Maybe you understand that when I pick a target, when I make promises…I deliver on them. And maybe, just maybe, somewhere in that cloyingly ingratiating mind you’re rightfully starting to sweat.”
“Terrific Terrence Tillman is in for a terribly traumatic trial…and that’s just from my end of the corner. Lackeys though they may be, I’m sure Baroness and Valcone are just as eager to take a piece of the would-be champion after they chew up and spit out the team that couldn’t even handle Germans or the sickening lovey dovey crap of Nelson and Cross – no doubt due to overindulgence. Really that’s the nature of your team, T.T. Overindulgence. The three of you have engorged yourself, be it on good will, drugs, or general positivity. Pick your poison. It was only a matter of time before someone came along and made you spew all that nonsense right back up.”
“Regardless of what happens, I intend on making sure you understand just who you’re dealing with, Terrence. Be happy that I’m giving you a warning, some haven’t been so lucky. But what’s a hunt without prey that tries so hard to survive, knowing full well they’re a target? The chase…the fight…the eventual triumph and satisfaction of delivering the kill…there’s nothing more satisfying and stimulating on this entire planet.”
As if to emphasize her point, Hana closes her eyes and inhales deeply. A smirk plays across her lips when she exhales.
“This hunt is overcrowded, but we make do with the conditions we are given. I’ve got time, Terrence. I can wait until your partners are disposed, and I can wait until you’re exposed. I do so hope you’ll try to make the Skyfall…because like your ‘High’ flying friends…it’s the fall that will kill you.”
“You’re a marked man, Terrence. Do with that what you will. And 420 B.C.? If you try and stop me you’ll regret leaving the hotbox. And my wonderful lackeys? Don’t get in my way.”
A final smirk.
A fade to black.