The Price of Love

by **krzy** Thu Jan 11, 2024 3:23 pm

A wall of monitors, each replaying clips of eliminations from Mob Violence’s royal rumble matches.

Tailcoat Val is where you'd expect her to be.

Eyes flickering from one screen to the next, hands clasped behind her back, absorbing this information with an uncanny ease.

VAL:
There's been an uncomfortable, unnatural lack of tension since Jason Spade’s retirement.

With that unspoken command, the screens are taken over by scenes from her last clash with The Outlaw.

The last time she wrestled.

Her eyes are fixed on one particular screen: a scorned lover sacrificing herself and taking the proverbial bullet, the poison mist, gifting the now Hall of Famer the split-second he needed to take her down.

She clenches her jaw.

Seems some wounds take longer to heal than others.

VAL:
Perhaps even before then.

The screens change again, without a word or gesture from Val.

Her “goons” rushing the ring.

Ellie Quinn cashing in.

Ellie Quinn the new Women’s World Champion.

From Val: this time, a smirk.

VAL:
For a long time I contemplated the best means of remedying this transgression. But I came to realize it was my tunnel-visioning that allowed her to blindside me--to then immediately tunnel-vision on her are the ignorantly cyclical actions of the type of people who don't make it to where I am.

The best course of action, I realized, was nothing at all.

Ellie Quinn was able to reach the highest of highs, each step weighed down by the nagging thought that she was unworthy of the position she weasled her way into.

And indeed she imploded in spectacular fashion.

She’s lower than she was when she initially crossed me.

And I didn't have to lift a finger.

That's power.

That’s danger.

That's what makes CMV such a fascinating place to observe.

A knock on the door.

Val raises her hand into the air.

A non-verbal gesture that somehow reaches the person on the other end of the the door.

A massive figure fills the frame when the door swings open.

Subject: ZERO stands there, awaiting Val’s next order. After she jerks her head to the left side of the room, ZERO walks over and unceremoniously drops the body he's been carrying.

Amar’e Rivers lands with a thud, and a dull groan escapes his lips.

Val uses her foot to roll him onto his back. His face is covered with dark, painful looking bruises. His eye is swollen shut. His lip is busted. And then there's his tattered and torn clothing, spots of blood dotting the fabric. He looks like his been through a battle where his life was on the line.

It probably was.

There's not a single scratch on Subject: ZERO.

Val approaches him, looks up at him to meet his gaze. He towers over her. He's twice as wide as she is, body solid with impenetrable muscle. He could pick her up and break her with a single hand before she could utter a word to stop him.

VAL:
Kneel.

He kneels.

Val waits a beat. Then she hears what she's been waiting for.

A piercing scream grows louder as the person gets closer. Isabella Almas bursts into the room and slams the door shut behind her. On other side of the door, Miasma scratches at the wood, as though bare hands, sharp nails and pure determination were enough to break through.

Meaning Almas has precious few minutes until she does.

ALMAS:
Val! This is crazy! You--

Her voice gets stuck in her throat when she sees the body on the ground. Her next words come out in a barely audible choked whisper…

ALMAS:
No…

She cradles Amar’e’s head in her hands, rocking back and forth in a sorry attempt to ease the pain that's left him immobilized at Val’s feet.

VAL:
Dare I say the True Love Battle Royal was a rare stroke of brilliance on your parts?

Unconcerned with the suffering in the room, done likely at her command, Val casually carries on.

VAL:
Walk the best of the best CMV has to offer into a trap under the guise of humouring your so-called love. You even had the foresight to install Miasma in the fray to ensure an Amber Reed victory. Of course, the only reason why it was so easy--

Her voice turns cold. She looks down at the two halves of ARIA in disgust.

VAL:
--is because nobody takes you seriously.

Val lowers herself into a squat until she's eye-level with Almas. And as much as it pains Almas to take her eyes off her love, she knows that anything that could be perceived as disrespect will only make matters worse.

She meets Val’s gaze.

VAL:
For months now I've given you the opportunity to show you deserve to fight under my banner. Remember that it was you who came to me to offer your aid, and as each day passes I fail to see what value you provide.

I've watched an alarming amount of women supplant you. Women I could have spent my resources recruiting instead of relying on you to get your act together.

Months.

And for what?

In a flash, Val pushes herself off the ground from the low squat stance and drives her forehead into Almas’s face, breaking her nose on impact.
Despite that, Almas holds on tight to Rivers, even adjusting herself to protect him from any blows were Val to continue the onslaught.

But Val stands.

VAL:
As I said, a rare display of brilliance. Of bare-minimum competence. You even took the initiative to eliminate Amber Reed from the royal rumble proper, delaying her inevitable, one-track march toward our company’s greatest prize.

Inevitable, but you've bought me some time nonetheless.

So I'll return the favor. Though my graciousness extends only so far.

Almas looks up at Val, eyes wet with tears and blood dripping from her nose.

ALMAS:
Th--thank you…we won't let you down…

A dark expression passes over Val’s face.

VAL:
“We”...

A long silence passes.

VAL:
I’ve felt first-hand the brunt of a woman’s folly when she thinks a man is worth sacrificing for. How does he compare? Is he worth what he’s costing you? When he's done using you, will you also call on me to put him in his place as you salvage whatever crumbs and scraps of your dignity and self-respect is left?

These are the questions I'd love for you to consider as the clock winds down.

Because I know what you're afraid of. You think I'm going to take him from you, don't you?

No.

Her lips curl into a wicked grin.

VAL:
I'll keep him around…in flesh.

Almas gasps as Val not-so-subtly runs her fingers through the hair of the still-kneeling Subject: ZERO.

VAL:
Now get out of my sight.