continued from "coping strategies"

present day

"What do you mean you can't enter her file? It's right there! Click on it!"

"Can't you read? It's corrupted, it's not letting me do shit."

Mikhail sits behind a desk and computer with Yuri hovering over him squinting at the screen.

"How would it have gotten corrupted?"

"How should I know?"

"Can you access any other file?"

Mikhail scrolls to a different entry. #191. He clicks it it pops up with the file and in bold red letters beside the number reads: "DECEASED".

"With ease."

He returns to #217 and clicks again. The computer takes an extended time to load. Eventually coming up with a screen full of indecipherable code.

"Fuck!"

"What do we do?"

Yuri thinks to himself while Mikhail continues to try accessing the file to no avail.

"Could anyone else be conscious of our actions?"

"The guards were under my dollar. My most trustworthy I pay when the time is needed."

Yuri thinks some more while Mikhail continues to reload the same corrupted screen over and over.

"Stop that! You are accomplishing nothing! When does your father return? We must cover this before then. I learned long ago that going behind his---"

"To hell with my father. He knows nothing of what needs done to accomplish our goals."

Mikhail stands up from behind the computer.

"To hell with him or not, if we've gone behind his back with anything I fear the consequences may be dire. When does he return, Mikhail?"

"He did not say. We may have a week. We may only have a couple of days."

"Then for my own piece of mind, I would like to get to the bottom of this as soon as possible."

"Very well."

"First, we must bring in the guards that assisted us with the extraction."

Mikhail nods and moves around the desk and towards the door. He stops and looks at Yuri as he lags behind.

"Are you coming?"

Yuri shakes his head.

"It would be odd for me to be involved. I will stick to the laboratory for now. These men do not know what they had seen, but they seen it. Make sure they're honest."

Mikhail nods and continues towards the door and exits the office. Yuri stands motionless staring at the computer screen with the list of different projects on each row.

"Fuck."

---

A couple dozen people wait at the subway station for the train to arrive. It's late in the evening, probably most people heading home from their jobs. Looking at their watch impatiently yet waiting without a complaint, the train can be heard in the distancing coasting towards them from inside the tunnel. The screech of the brakes is annoying, but most of these people are used to it by now. Day in, day out, they travel together without a sound.

As the train comes to a stop, three doors open on the sides allowing passengers from inside exit and passengers from the outside enter. They pass by each other like cattle, exchanging places, filling spaces, ignoring faces, as they take their ten paces.

Abigail emerges from the crowd carrying her bag on her shoulder. She breaks from the crowd as they spew out of the side of the train. She watches as the cattle march mindlessly out of the underground and to the surfaces while many other flood into the depths and watches as strangers act in unison as if they've practiced this act a million times.

::whisper::
Fascinating, aren't they?
::whisper::

"What?"

::whisper::
People. Your Average Joes. Your Janes.
::whisper::

Abigail holds her bag tightly and joins the crowd exiting the underground. She emerges back into the city she had recently left.

::whisper::
You never said where we were going.
::whisper::

"Because I don't know where we're going."

::whisper::
The note that guard slipped you said something. What was it again?
::whisper::

"An addresss."

Abigail talks under her breath like it's no-thing. A few people she passes catches her doing it, but even less bother even looking at her.

::whisper::
Interesting.
::whisper::

Quote:She remembers the other day:

As the guards pull Abigail through the gate the one guard tosses her and a duffle bag to the ground. The other hangs onto Abigail's arm and prevents her from hitting the ground. He slips a small, folded piece of paper into her hand.

Abigail walks down the busy street, she pulls the piece of paper from her pocket and reads it aloud.

"4872 Henderson Lane. Apt. 29."

::whisper::
So, I suppose that's where we're going?
::whisper::

She confirms with silence, as she looks at the signs as she passes them by.

Before long and after a limited conversation with herself, she finds Henderson Lane. It's a small alleyway between a mostly abandoned commercial building and an apartment building.

The people have thinned out, as it seems she's walked for miles and the city has become less a city and more of a slum. She breaks across the road in between the slowed traffic and makes her way down the alley.

::whisper::
You have an internal GPS or what?
::whisper::

"I feel like I know where I'm going. It's strange."

Abigail, somewhat scared of the energy drawing her where ever she is going, continues on. The voice in her head continues to question her actions, as it seems to want to stay on task with what Vincent Lane had laid out for her.

Quote:As Lane dropper her off:

Okay, dude. I'm not sure why you want dropped off here, but make sure you get in touch with Roxy. She's running that part of the shit.

::whisper::
Shouldn't we be setting up a contract for the XWF?
::whisper::

"Shouldn't we be intrigued about what exactly is going on here?"

::whisper::
How do you know that guard provided you with anything? This could be a trap to be taken back again. You know that the entire thing was kind of.... fishy.
::whisper::

"You're right. This could be a trap, but I have a feeling it's not. The way he looked at me, it's like he knew something."

::whisper::
I have a feeling those two gentlemen we talked to the other day are going to be in some trouble over this.
::whisper::

"Yuri?"

::whisper::
Yes, Yuri, and the other one, too. He seemed a bit higher up the ladder than your doctor.
::whisper::

"You don't think this was approved?"

::whisper::
I know it wasn't. Why, after all of the training, the simulations, the tests... Why now? Why were YOU given this mission?
::whisper::

Quote:The last meeting:

Mikhail and Yuri stand over Abigail in the small room they did their "interviews" in before. It's been a few days since #201, #217, and #290 had their initial sit-downs with Yuri. Abigail was brought back in for what they called "just another test".

"Hello, Abigail."

"Doctor."

She looks over to Mikhail, who she's never seen before.

"Do not mind him, my dear. He's simply here to oversee our final interview."

Abigail's one eyebrow perks up.

"Doctor?"

"We've decided to step foward with our plans, Abigail. As you have already been told, you have been brought her for a reason."

"The 'Freedom' you had mentioned before?"

Yuri nods.

"That is right."

He smiles and slides a folder over to her filled with photographs and other information.

"Freedom, of course, always comes with a cost, yes? This assignment will grant you just that and will prove to us that we have made the right choice in giving you this opportunity."

Abigail opens the folder and shuffles through the papers. Mikahil looks on amazed as she does so. He is still expecting the brainless robot that this project began to produce rather than a living, breathing, thinking clone-like being.

She pauses, stacks the documents again, and places them back into the folder.

"What do you think?"

---

I knew it would come down like this.

Desperation.

Struggle.

Hope.

Really, Missy?

Did you litereally take notes as I spoke and rebutteled accordingly? I mean, I understand that's sort of how this works, but you literally read aloud and listed certain statements of mine and did your best at ripping them to shreds. Is that the big bad girl that everyone --- Not everyone, YOU have been rambling on about the past week?

Well, way to go, I guess you got the best of me, Missy. You definitely showed ME who is boss.

Give me a break.

I'll do the same thing but take care of it in a much more efficient fashion than you did. Before I begin, let me just say that you take a lot of stuff out of context OR you don't read enough into this stuff. Here are some examples.

You followed Chris Chaos into this federation as in you came after he did. I know you weren't here when he first arrived because he was a lot more impressive before you showed up. So that statement about him living in YOUR shadow, may shed some truth. You came and he went downhill and you just kind of limbo'd around until you got the same opportunity that I did. A shot at this title. Now, the reason I mentioned that we were all equal is because regardless of you already "establishing" yourself in this place with your whole FOURTEEN matches, none of us have really done anything that stands out. You've mentioned your main event status and all that before, but come on.... Let's be honest with ourselves, Missy, there's no main event in any future Bombshell Champion.

Okay, okay. So you DID just watch me and pause and take notes the entire time. I thought you were a bit of a better critical thinker than this, but okay.

This is pathetic. YOU are pathetic, Jenny Myst. Taking things I say and twisting them around on me and getting what I was trying to say completely wrong makes you look like an idiot. So thanks. Less work for me. Maybe I was wrong about a few things about you, the alone thing since you were homeless and from a broken home. The drug-addicted family. Okay, so you had a rough start. You overcame and made it all the way to the XWF. So where does all that self-entitlement and "empress", princess stuff come from? Coming from the gutter you'd think someone would be a bit more humble about it and appreciate the ground they've made instead of being cocky and expect things to be handed to them.

The lost and scared thing kind of went with Chris Chaos writing you off. I'm sure you're not scared of me, no way. You're far too stupid to realize any opposable threat right now. You think you're the absolute best the world has to offer, which is what YOU would call "cute". In the fourteen matches you've had, you've won nine and how many of those were tag team, or whatever, kind of matches that basically carried you through? I've had like six matches here, that's a little less than half than what you've had. So to say you're more established than someone and SO far ahead in your career, especially since it started yesterday, would be ridiculous. Which is why I say, laugh all you want, Missy, we are even.

Even Steven.

You don't deserve this belt any more than any other female on the roster. All of this talk, all of this whining and bitching, all of this confidence will go to waste because I'm going to show the world that Jenny Myst is NOTHING. Step all over the fact that I don't care, point out that I'm here because I was ASKED to be here. A pawn as you speak. I'm here for a reason and whether it's as a pawn, a rook, a knight, or a bishop... I'm here to take out the Queen.... And any piece on the board is capable of that if the right moves are made. You're trapped into a corner right now, Missy, and you ARE a scared, lonesome little girl looking for a hand to reassure her safety. You ARE the bitch you claim to be because you are SO ignorant to your surroundings that you wrote myself and Ezariahah off as nothing more than an easy trip to the title.

Shame on you, huh?

Well, it's what you get.

The ignorance doesn't stop there though. You had enough to say about things that I talked about that didn't even happen here. Well, check YOUR history, Missy. If you weren't pausing and taking notes and thinking of ways to make me look foolish the entire time, you may have realized that the CCWF.......


WAS THE XWF.

It's called a take-over and unlike all the stupid mischief that you and Chris call "chaos" each week or anything that he tried with Ax3, Shane and company actually changed the landscape of this federation and it WAS the CCWF for a short time. Vinnie Lane defeated Trax for the Universal Title and we CHANGED it to the CCWF Heavyweight Title.

So, there's that. History lesson. It wasn't to show you how good I was or how established I was, it was to prove to you that I do, indeed, have a place on this roster and you should, once again, be ashamed for overlooking that. My absences are unexplained and my time away was put to waste, but it won't matter after I beat you and become the XWF Bombshell Champion. You assuming even standing a chance at this point is so wonderful. It means that your hopes are still tied tight and you still look forward to getting proven wrong. I can't wait, Missy. I can't wait.

Yes, Jenny Myst. The way you have laughed at me. The way you have mocked me. The way you have mocked this division. How disappointed you are going to be. The hand-outs are over and done with and just like everyone else around here you're going to earn your place. I'm going to earn mine and how is that going to make you look? Someone from the woodwork that you have barely even wasted your spit on. What is it going to do to that precious little ego of yours when I'm the one walking out of the pay-per-view as champion? Will you go back to wrestling and losing to the men? As much as you talk about Chris being in YOUR shadow I think he had a little bit of a better start than what you've had. What do I know though? I'm just a stupid cunt.

Look back, Missy. Look back at this week and admire how much you failed to even touch me. As much hype as you've given yourself, I'd be ashamed to even show my face after losing to me on Saturday.

But you will.

You always will.

You'll find an excuse to place your loss on and come back for more over and over again. Maybe you'll learn from this experience. Maybe you won't. Regardless, I will have proven my point and my client will get exactly what he's desired. Jenny Myst will not be champion.

---

Abigail walks down the alley, passing by several colored homeless people on her way. They scream and talk among each other, some to themselves as fires burn in barrels and other folks without the luxury wrap themselves in torn blankets. She does her best to ignore them and she takes a few steps down and enters the apartment building.

The walls inside are torn apart and graffiti decorates nearly every inch of it like a portrait. The screams and shouts carry from inside the rooms as she continues on through the messed hallway, checking each door number for the one on the paper.

Some door provide a number, others do not, she continues on as they increase fro the teens into the twenties. Finally, she reaches a door without the numbers, but would be #29. She knocks.

No answer.

Abigail then reaches for the door knob and steps into an apartment unlike what she has seen from the rest of the building. It is spotless, clean from top to bottom. She hears old jazz music playing from the other room as she steps through and closes the door behind her. Making her way into the apartment, the music becomes louder. In the living area, sitting on a chair by an old wind-up radio, is an old black woman. She looks up from the chair, her eyes are pitch white, blinded and unable to see the world before her.

"Who goes there?"

The blind, black woman reaches over and without mistake turns the radio's volume down to merely nothing.

"Oh. Hello, my girl."

She smiles and holds her arms out, waving Abigail in.

"I've been expecting you."

---