Post by Blake Worship on Dec 1, 2011 10:01:02 GMT -5
Click, click, click, click...
How long had she been running? She has no idea, her perception of time is shot.
Click, click, click, click...
She felt the heel of her right shoe break off from one of her favorite pair of Manolo's about a half-mile back...
She kicked the other one off as well and kept running.
Click, click, click, click...
With all the distance she's made, she just can't seem to escape that damn clicking.
At last, a main street. People, cars... She rushes into the nearest cafe and heads straight to the restroom, locking the door behind her and collapsing against it on the floor.
Divorce. Yep, that was it. That was the only thing on her mind, her level of upset is so raw. He promised her safety, time and again, and for what? To find herself running for dear life in the back woods of God knows where, being chased by a chick in heels and a nun suit. Noticing the ordinary window right in front of her, she rests a bit more before climbing out of it and continuing running, in case psycho-nun was on her trail.
She doesn't remember much. The confrontation outside the hotel, the scuffle, and then blackness. The psycho woman was dressed differently then, like a secretary or a social worker, either of which was drastically underpaid considering her demeanor. The woman didn't expect her to give her the ass-whooping she gave her, compliments of private training from her husband. Only moments later, however, the pistol was drawn. She had no choice but to reach for the sky, turn around upon direction, and then sharp pain... a white light... and that damned blackness.
Whatever the case, once coming to, she must have been left unattended just a bit too long. Untying her bondage was the hardest part, although she was skilled in this as well thanks to her husband, only from a different kind of private 1-on-1. Once pushing open the coffin, however, that clicking was mere meters away. She had nowhere else to go except under the coffin itself, hiding beneath the wooden altar, covered by the ceremonial tablecloth.
She thought her improvised acting was feverish at best, but enough thumps on the altar above her and screams muffled by her hands seemed to do the trick. She waited as long as she possibly could, until that devilish clicking finally died away, before bursting from under the burning altar and bolting out of that church for dear life.
Her marathon brings her to a small inn, where she scurries into the lobby. After pleading for five minutes with the clerk, she is granted use of the telephone, which she immediately uses to dial the underlying source of all her troubles.
Blake Worship. May I ask who's calling...?
****
Blake! Blake, it's Sammy!
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Worship: Hey babe! How was your shopping day? [grinning] You buy them Vicky's Secret lingerie I was telling you abou--
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Sammy: BLAKE! Shut the fuck up and trace this number!
****
Worship: [immediately serious] Where are you.
****
Sammy: I can't tell, I just got to a phone as fast as I could!
****
Worship: Who's responsible.
****
Sammy: I don't know! I remember her saying some shit about "only one can reign supreme" and "forging a new Standard", and some other stuff... but I thought that was just gibberish crazy bitches talk.
****
Worship: [eyeing his cell phone] John... The tracking is done. Stay there, I'm coming.
****
Sammy: Blake, wait! I can't stay in one spot, she might be following me--
WAS following you...
Samantha freezes in place, turning her head ever so slowly as to peer from the corner of her eye at the barrel pointed at her from across the room. "What? Samantha? Samantha, say something!"
Andrea: You can put that down now, thank you.
Samantha slowly lowers the phone from near her face and maneuvers it back onto the hook, never taking her eye off of her kidnapper.
Andrea: As much as it pains me to think it, you might have actually gotten away unbeknownst to me, but I'm afraid I can hear the click of designer heels a mile away. [smirks]
Samantha frowns. She knew she should've taken off those damn pumps before she started running.
Andrea: Now, how's about you just be a good little sacrifice and come along with me. You're more valuable to this world dead, anyway...
Sammy: Hmmm, that sure sounds tempting... nah, I'm good. I've already contacted the local authorities, but I guess you missed the part where that chick that's hiding under this desk now pushed the emergency button. Awww, and you were so close!
Andrea: Don't play me for a fool, dumb tramp. I'm smarter than you look, which isn't saying much.
Sammy: What a coincidence, I don't have much else to say either, I'll let them do the talking! [flicks head]
As is just her luck, Samantha spots a police car with sirens blaring slightly out of view down the road, and times her words and movements in perfect harmony with the car's apparent arrival. Andrea turns, and in that instant Samantha turns as well, chucking the phone receiver she slyly disconnected from the telephone cord at Andrea's head with all her strength.
The listening end of the phone strikes Andrea square in her temple, knocking her sideways and causing her to take one hand off the .22 in her hands and reach for her now bloody head. She turns towards Samantha in time to see a petite fist rushing to meet her, and then the room is dark.
Samantha kicks the gun away and collapses once again near the lobby's door, the police car she alluded to earlier whizzing by to assess some other crime, while nearby security and alerted police actually show up to apprehend the now unconscious nun. Samantha glances over her shoulder and through the lobby windows at the sky outside. Wherever she was, it was sunrise. She smiles to herself, resting her head against the window.
She won't divorce him. Who is she kidding? She loves him far too much. Besides...
She lives for the thrill...
Fade to black...
TBC...?