The Pest is laying in his Queen sized bed, white cotton sheets under him. His bedroom is empty save a dresser, and a lamp next to his bed. The fan above his bed spins, allowing The Pest the illusion of comfort in this room. It hasn't been comfortable since The Receptionist left. There is a knock on his door, and he groans as he rolls out of his bed, the white of his shirt, and boxers compliment the sheets. The girl laying in a pool of her tears next to him does not move as he pulls the sheets off her naked flesh. Why should she remain comfortable when he has work to do?
The Pest stands up, and moves towards the door, the old wood of his floors pressing gently against his feet. He arrives at the door, and opens it slowly. The creeping of the door causes the girl to stir, the Pest ignored this as he looked into the face of his employee, John. John's eyes were bloodshot, and the bags that rest heavily under them gave the impression he was up all night.
John: Pest, it's time for you to get ready for work, and there's been a Steve Sayors trying to reach you.
Pest: Tell him I will speak with him later. Remove the girl, when I return I do not wish to see her.
John: One more thing boss, you're fighting Maverick for his title this week. You ready?
Pest: Of course the Pest is ready to face Maverick, but now the Pest will shower, and be ready for work. Leave us.
The Pest closes the door, and goes into his bathroom, the white and black porcelain tiles glisten in the light, and the tub sits properly white and clean. He twists the silver knobs and allows the water to warm, before stepping calmly in. He showers, and washes before stepping out. He goes to the room, and opens his oak closet door, and pulls out a pair of his nicest khaki pants, and a nice red button up shirt. He lays them on his bed, and walks to his cherry dresser, and from the top drawer removes a pair of boxer shorts, and slides them up. He applies his Deodorant before retrieving a plain white undershirt, which he raises over his head, and slides it down. He puts the pants on, and then the shirt, buttoning each button slowly, and steadily. The shirt is tucked into his waistline, and then a plain leather belt is put around the waist. Black socks, and brown loafers follow.
He leaves the room, and drives to work silently. The Pest's store comes into view. His Target. The Pest parks and walks into the front door, and immediately is greeted by the dopey eyed look of Steve Sayors.
Sayors: Pest, can we talk here?
Pest: Walk with me, I have to clock in, and then go retrieve my walkie talkie.
The pair walk to the employee area, passed the Guest Services, and cashiers, so that Pest may clock in. He is greeted with a wave of hellos from his employees, and a few looks at the man with him. Steve Sayors is a man in his mid thirties, he's looking his best today in a stained brown jacket, and a pair of tattered and stained jeans. His shirt is hidden, but assumed to be dirty as well. He waved, cordially as he passed. They walk into the back where one of his Managers tries to stop him, but the Pest ignores it, and clocks in.
Pest: Come along, Steven. I need my Walkie Talkie, and then you will have your interview.
The Pest and the Journalist walk onto the floor, and through the scattered guests as they make their way to the fitting room. The store is rather empty, it is early still. They are stopped in the middle of the Juniors department by a teenage girl, in tight khaki jeans, and a plain red T-shirt. Her brown hair is in a ponytail, the Pest eyes her up and down as she begins to explain her situation to him.
Girl: Hey, Jim. Um, can I ask you for something?
Pest: Yes, Stacy, you can. Just give me and my friend five minutes to get back to my office. Go meet us there, and we will talk.
Stacy walks passed them, and the Pest stops to stare at her for a minute as she does. Sayors looks at Pest with disgust.
Pest: Stacy is 16, and a Junior in high school. She needs the money to buy a new car. She is such a sweet girl.
Sayors: Have you raped her, yet?
Pest: I am disgusted that you would even ask that.
Sayors: Pest, the last time we spoke you threatened to murder me, and before you tried to make me have sex with a 14 year old girl.
Pest: Those are true, and you deserved them. Come now, we need the walkie, and then we can speak to Stacy, and you can get your interview.
The Pest and the reporter move through the racks of clothing, and stop at the Fitting Room where the Walkies are held. There is a portly woman sitting behind the desk, she doesn't appear to be happy, nor does the Pest seem to mind. He fills out the requisite log to get his Walkie Talkie, and walks over the case where they are held. A cheap piece of tin framed up in the makeshift form of a closet, used to protect the contents, and hide them from prying eyes. The Pest shakes his head at this.
Pest: Steven, can you believe this? The company is worried about Walkie Talkie theft, so they lock them up. But, they allow this sow to watch them. What is your name?
Sow: Janet, and I don't appreciate those comments about my looks, Ichobod.
Pest: Did you just insult your STL? You are fired. I will order up a replacement now, and then have HR process your paperwork.
He pulls the Walkie to his mouth, and presses a button on the front.
Pest: This is Jim, I need a Team Member to work Operator. Tina, can you do it?
A voice crackles through, accepting. The Pest and the Journalist walk back towards his office, he hears Janet yelling about the skull faced fuckboy as Tina takes over her post. They arrive at his office, where he ushers in The Journalist, and the Employee. He closes the door behind them, and goes to inform them of Janet's termination for her insulting him. Everyone is surprised, but does as the Pest says.
The Pest returns to his office, and sits at his desk. Steve is sitting in a chair off to the right, he is looking around the office. There is a picture of Aaron on the desk, and a few potted plants adoring the cheap plastic cabinets. Next to one of the plants is a stuffed Target Dog. The Pest sits and places his hands on the desk, knuckles intertwined.
Pest: Yes, Stacy? You needed something.
Stacy: I got asked to Homecoming. I was wondering if I can work a bunch, and then take that weekend off.
The Pest coughs, and looks at her. Her brown eyes meeting his gaze, and then straying to Sayors. The Pest's eyes dart to ensure the door is closed.
Pest: Steven, lock the door.
The Journalist does as he is told. He knows better than to upset the Pest.
Pest: Stacy, I will do my best to work around this, but I need something in return.
Stacy: Yes?
Pest: I want you to blow me under my desk while I speak with my friend.
Her peach colored cheeks turn a bright shade of red. She stutters she asks the question she knows the answer to.
Stacy: You want me to blow you?
Pest: Yes. If you want to go to Homecoming.
She lowers her head, and moves to the side of the Pest's desk, and then slowly goes over by him. Her trembling hands begin to fiddle with his belt. The Pest's old hands reach up and grope at her shirt, finding a good piece of cloth to tug on. He finds a loose section, and pulls it out of her pants, before sliding his hands up to her chest. Her hands get his belt undone, and slowly lower them, for this he lifts himself slightly out of the chair to allow the pants to drop to his knees. He sits back down, and she drops to her knees and goes under the desk. Only her brown ponytail can be seen moving back and forth above the desk. The Pest rests one hand below the desk, and one above it.
Pest: Ask your questions, Steven.
Sayors: What are you doing here?
Pest: What do you mean?
Sayors' eyes are locked in on her moving hair.
Sayors: This store, running it. Being the boss. I thought you were a wrestler.
Pest: I am. I am also working on setting things up, I previously stated that I was attempting to be less hands on, this is the beginning of that. Taking Maverick's title will just be a step in the process.
Sayors: So, you plan on winning the match on Monday?
Pest: My definition of winning is different than yours. For me, in order to win, I simply have to ensure that Maverick does not walk out of the arena a champion. So, yes, I intend to win in that definition. Should I be awarded the Hart title as a reward? So be it.
There is a a gagging from under the desk.
Pest: Come on, Stacy, you are not finished.
Sayors: Can I get your opinion on the current state of the XWF?
Pest: Shane

did what Shane

does. I will be there when he has to die, and that will be the end of it.
Sayors: What's that supposed to mean? Shane did what Shane does? The Shane from before was his father, not the Shane we know now.
Pest: Not the Shane you know. He is a toxin in the world, and I have said this since I came here.
Sayors: Fair enough. Tell me, how do you feel about Maverick?
Pest: He is undeserving of being a champion, and he is not deserving to be taken seriously. He is angry at me for what I did to him in the MacClay classic, and afterwards with the Black Hand. However, he fails to remember that he cost Michael the tag title, and then he had the gall to blame me for his downfall. He fails to see that even Muddy Waters abandoned us, he was worth more than Maverick will ever be. I would have placed my life in his hands, and yet here I am stuck with Maverick. The disgusting piece of title shitting cowardice he is, he believes he holds a win over Peter, because he walked out of the ring with a title, that Peter failed to get pinned in. Then he shits on the title, and asks me to help him pleasure Vinnie Lane. Disgusting.
Sayors: He what?
Pest: Here, I have the soundbite saved, listen.
With his free hand, the Pest hits a button on his computer, and Maverick's voice is heard.
(08-14-2015, 06:51 AM)Maverick Said: "until we beat off our common foe"
Sayors coughs and clears his throat.
Pest: Yeah. And now I have this important question to Maverick. I hope he is paying close attention. Maverick, how can we believe this is you? How are we certain all of this "success" cannot be blamed on Un? Coupled with your failures, and the fact that you managed to do something you think gives you a piece of value, how can we trust that any of this is really you, and not that lab engineered Chimera you claim to be rid of? Should we all prepare for a series of explanations that involve you being cloned, again, and then being able to shoot fire, and then not able to shoot fire? Or, will you admit this run is one hundred percent you? And if you were impressive enough to shoot flames before, why not now? Why not use that power to actually do something useful in your life? Use them to end it, son.
The Pest stops the girl's movement. A few seconds later her head slowly rises, and she looks slightly ashamed as she adjusts her shirt, and heads to the door.
Pest: No, Stacy, stay. Steven, please leave, and close the door behind you.
Sayors does as he's told, and Stacy turns and waits. The Pest moves towards her, and places a hand on her waist as he locks the door again.