Threaded Mode | Linear Mode

HannahDeclaresWarr · **08-21-2015, 12:07 PM**

- Vancouver, BC August 7th, 2015 -

We fade in as Hannah snuffs out a cigarette against the granite lining the sidewalk underneath one of the many high-rise towers along Pender Street. The building shimmers in the sunlight as the hussle and bussle of daily life swarms around its base. As Hannah looks up at the building, its lengthy white outlines reflecting brightly against her face she sighs, shaking her head. She takes her sunglasses from her face and sets them just above her hairline, taking one last breath she opens the door and composes herself. She has been in kind of a funk lately, thoughts have been weighing heavily on her mind the past couple of weeks. At first she put it off as just the work-load.

Days like today I don't feel myself. You ever wake up wondering who you really are? Or why it is your really here at all? Why the Universe chose you to survive, when it would see everyone you care for ran into the ground? I've been working too hard lately, I haven't had a chance to really think in what seems like forever. I push myself through, thinking that if it was anyone else they would have swallowed a bullet by now. The gym has really been the only time I've really had to work things out, I've just felt like all of this, these sky-scrapers, men in suits, ties, endless paperwork is all just building up to nothing. I like to believe that all of this will one day be for something, one day I'll actually be able to get out. Why they choose me is... my own fault I guess. I should have never taken that job in Denver. I should have dropped the ball, fucked everything up. But I guess I'm just too proud for all that.

These buildings are always cold, I can't tell whether its the stone and steel holding the unseasonably cold weather, or if its the people themselves that make it feel this way. I check my name in with Security at the elevator, but they all know who I am, they shoot me a nod and wave me through. And it makes me feel sick to my stomach, thinking that I am just another one of them. Another walking, talking, dancing, robot-zombie. Makes me wonder why I even try at all, to look like this, to try and set myself apart from them. Its almost paralyzing, the thought that I've become everything we always said we would never be, a tool of a corrupt system. I could go into the whole "Keeping the Rich Rich and the Poor Poor." story, but you've all heard that, and know exactly what it means. As the numbers above the cold elevator doors slowly ascend I think about how funny it is, that people actually believe that capitalism and America's march of progress doesn't reach us up here. But here I am... Here... I... Am.

I answer to a man named William Nayman. I couldn't tell you who had his balls in the vice, but whoever it was seemed to always have it down pretty tight. If you looked at him you would have thought he was in his late 30's, receding hairline, skin just on the cusp of beginning to wrinkle around the eyes, it was his forehead that drew my attention almost every time I sat in front of him, and often I had to catch myself staring into its mesmerizing pits. I swear it looked like someone had rode a dirt bike across it. His friend, associate, fuck-buddy, whatever the hell he was, was a bigger man, kind of in between stocky and fat. Dark skinned, like the type of guy who spends way to much time at the tanning bed, and it wouldn't have been so bad if he didn't have Guy Fieri's haircut. Today they were almost matching, Nayman's pale blue suit, with this guys almost the same shade collared shirt and khaki pants, right on the edge of high fashion I suppose. I had been sitting in the chair outside his office flipping through my newsfeed when he finally waved his ridged little finger in the air. I shook my head and stepped into the office, the second flick of his hand told me to shut the door behind me. As I stepped to the chair in front of his desk he was flipping through a thin manila folder. His friend, stood behind me as I sat down in the chair, what the fuck is this guys problem? I listened to him take his labored breaths for a couple of seconds, as if the walk from the elevator to where he was now was almost too much for him. Finally, Nayman looked up at me, intertwining his fingers in front of his face.

William Nayman - Hannah, you understand that alot of people are often, a bit taken aback by your... how shall we put it? Your outward appearance.

Obvious, my eyes blink as my eyebrows raise, and slowly I nod my head. Thinking of the man with the thick Russian accent I had met on that platform the night before. Since then I hadn't really given much thought to it, people were always looking at me some type of way, was nothing special anymore.

William Nayman - "Its not so much as the way you compose yourself around here, its that... your... well..

He was trying to comment on my size, my age, my figure, something misogynistic, fucking figures.

Hannah - Yes Bill, I know, I'm not what people expect, I'm sorry I'm not some spent up old... whatever the fuck this guy is supposed to be.

The man behind me scoffed and stepped away from the chair, taking a seat in one of the leather chairs in the back of the room.

Hannah - I mean, if its scaring people off I'll give you your solution, Find someone else to do your bitch work! Because to tell you the truth its really getting old, I need something that pays better than... than... you know whatever the fuck it is I do.

He chuckles to himself, flipping the pages of the folder open and tossing them towards me on the other side of his desk. We share a few blinks, as I mentally ask him if he's serious with this, he nods his head as I begrudgingly take the folder from the desk. Inside is a picture of a man, couldn't be too much older than I am, Irving Alexander Ray. His profile said he was an intern at the National Center for Genetic Engineering and Biotechnology. I once again blink in disbelief as I look over the top of the folder at the man now smirking on the other side of the desk.

William Nayman - So what'ya think?

Under any other circumstances I probably would have walked out the door, but with the bare-bones paycheck I got for running the last job I'm in a rough spot. But a look at the location put me back to my senses.

Hannah - Yeah it says Tehran... are you fucking with me?

William Nayman - Actually this is as serious as I am ever going to be, look, you dont have to be there long, I've got tickets lined up for you, your there overnight, its your simple rendition protocol.

Hannah - Bill... goddamnit... whats the take?

The man wasted no time in taking a couple bundles of cash from his desk and tossing them on the table. Orange bands wrapped neatly around crisp hundred dollar bills.

William Nayman - Ten now, ten when you get him back stateside.

This instantaneously threw up red flags for me, looking at the money on the desk and the serious look in his eye I could tell there was something he wasn't letting on.

Hannah - What the fuck is the deal here? Your throwing this money in my face and I haven't even accepted the job yet. What's so special about this guy that someone needs him back in the West that badly? And why the fuck can't the United States do this themselves? Don't they pay people good money to do shit like this?

Bill nodded his head momentarily, suddenly becoming very serious.

William Nayman - Okay, listen; you know that its not in your job description to ask questions, and I have stuck my neck out for you on not one, not two, but six different occasions, I think its time for a little payback here.

His tone raises as I've been mocking him silently as he spoke, it was the same line every time he wanted me to do something for him. Like he didn't have a stockpile of waiting goons he could put on it. As to why the U.S. was outsourcing its labor to someone like Billy Nayman I had no idea, but like he said, it wasn't in my job description to ask questions.

William Nayman - Goddamnit Hannah I'm trying to set you up here, you think we don't notice that look on your face everytime you walk in and out of here, you can cover it up with your little snarky teenage attitude all you want, but I know your looking for a way out of this, everyone is, do this one last thing Hannah and I swear we will give you a clean break.

Hannah - Your not fucking with me are you?

William Nayman - Hannah I can't at this point, your the best I've got, age aside your more reliable than anyone I could put on this, and as much as it pains me to make you this offer this has to be in trustworthy hands.

Yeah, and as much of a mistake I knew I was making, the prospect of money and a clean break was something I couldn't let myself refuse, maybe I could finally kick all this shit I've been feeling off my back, yeah, a little money, and a little space from the world, its worth a couple days in Iran.

Hannah - Alright, gimme the fucking ticket.

:: Present Day, Chicago Illinois, 2:15 pm ::

We fade in as the sounds of the mid-day rush of the Chicago streets is in full swing. Its Friday, people getting ready for the weekend in the city, parties, clubs, bars, the final day of work and people seem happy. Millenium park is at max capacity, Joggers, bicycle's, people working out. The camera turns skyward now, taking in the highrise tower overlooking the park. As it slowly lowers Cloud Gate comes into focus. And as the camera drops further, Hannah Warr, she leans in, looking at her reflection in the mirror-like shine coming off the object. Her eyes shift, seeing the camera coming up behind her, she waves her hand into the bubble-like reflection. She sweeps her hair to the side, composing herself before turning to the camera, stepping forward through the park.

Hannah Warr - You know, there's a certain level of excitement, being back in the states, in the middle of Chicago, walking into my first match with the XWF, first match of my career. As anyone who has worked the business for a while can tell you, there is always going to be the feeling of uncertainty, a bit of fear mixed with the excitement, its just to be expected. For the last couple of weeks, this change that my life has been taking has me feeling more optimistic about myself. More like I'm starting on a better path than the one I was on before. Which makes me wonder if my partner, a man known to the XWF as Bloody Murray, feels the same way? Or if I'm alone in this feeling of optimism. Guess it doesn't really matter outside of the fact that I need to be on the same page. I've spent a couple of days, going over videos, thinking about the things I've seen. And the one thing I've taken from it is that for a team to work they have to see things the same way, I know he wants a win, who wouldn't? First impressions are lasting, especially when it comes to the fans, to the people standing in the locker room, to the owners and Managers of the company. Are these people worth Putting Faith in? Are they the type of people you would want on your side? Are they Dangerous? Did you make the best decision when you hired them? All these things are on the table when we first enter that arena Murray. So I need to know that your with me on this. If I Have to do it myself, I will, but having you on my side would help.

A few shots flash through the screen, taxis, bikers, skateboarders, the busy city streets. As the shot cuts back to Hannah she has entered the Jay Pritzker Pavilion, music can be heard in the background, people pass by Hannah, some turning back, as if wondering who she is. She looks at her feet for a moment, smiling to herself before looking back to the camera.

Hannah Warr - All that being said, personally I would like to think that the first impression you take away from me is that I was worth your faith, worth the money you spent getting me here. The people standing across from me no doubt want the same things as I do, to make that good first impression on the XWF. At least I would like to believe they do, I hope that they can give me the match that I want to have. Because I wouldn't want my first match to be too easy, who would? I dont want to be let down because the people across from me didn't have the heart, didn't have the same drive that I do. It would really be a shame would it not? I mean, don't get me wrong I like a good old fashioned one sided beatdown just as much as anyone does, they're fun to watch. But what does the winner really gain? I personally believe that someone in this industry can really only gain anything if their opponent, or opponents in this case, are willing to go the distance. Willing to put forth the same effort in that ring that you are, and its really sad to think that maybe the people across from me wont be at their full potential. Which begs the question why did they even try? Why are they even here? To get their faces known by the media? as a stepping stone to something else? It would be a damn shame if the smallest, and youngest person in that ring, in the XWF, had more heart than the three grown men standing in that ring.

But there are still a couple of days, still plenty of time for them to get their heads in the right place. When I got off the plane this morning and checked into the hotel, I was able to really take it all in. The opportunity I've been given, not many people my age can say that they are facing the same things I am. It my short time on this planet I've come to know so much, I've loved, I've lost, I've hurt, I've struggled. But when I looked at the view this morning I started to think that maybe all of that happened so that I could become the person I am now. So that I can be strong for whats ahead. Maybe that's the way everyone should see it, maybe its the way everyone always has and I just missed out. I like to think that this new start is something that I deserve. Something that I've earned. That everything that has built me into the person that I am was worth it, so I could finally begin to build myself into something better. Looking forward, I don't know what I'll be inside the XWF, a champion, a legend, I really don't know. As long as I'm happy with the person that I end up being, is really all that matters. Sure, there will be bumps and bruises, I kind of look forward to them, but a person can't be beaten down by the little things, people can't be so petty.

On Monday our four stories begin, what will the opening of yours be? Bloody Murray... Captain Future... Masked Man? A couple of you, walk into that ring on Monday, just to step right back into it again on Wednesday. You'll have to pick yourselves up, dust yourselves off and bring the same mentality to Warfare, the show. A question for Captain Future, how can a man who is still bandaged from his match on Monday, walk into a First Blood match on Wednesday? I guess I'll have to ask you next week, unfortunately I don't know that I'll have the time to make it to London to see it. There's a bit of doubt in my mind, you might not even show, that would be a shame. Do you think that they are going to treat you any better on Warfare? do you think that the Reverend will give you a better match, a better first impression than me? And what about your partner, no one even knows who he really is? Has he been here all this time? He, may be the only one of us who really already has a name for himself. But its really not worth worrying about, not to me, one way or another we are going to find out. So whats it going to be guys? Are we going to have ourselves a show? Or aren't we? Are we going to set the stage for Monday night? Personally, I like being a tough act to follow, like I said, if I have to do it all myself, make our match worth something, than by all means I will. You can roll your eyes all you want, doubt me, I really hope you do.

Hannah stops, staring into the lens of the camera, smiling, as if looking through it, and smiling at every one of you. She raises her hand, and slowly waves as the camera cuts to instant black.

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode Hannah Declares War Pt. 2
Author	Message