Post by Trash on Feb 4, 2012 13:49:49 GMT -5
The revolver clicks, the chamber spins but the bullet hides elsewhere.
A bead of sweat rolls down the smooth dome of the former commissioner.
John smiles, passing, the revolver to Trash, not concerned if Trash would choose to fire it at him for revenge. Without those documents, without his license, John would have no reason to live anyway. Might as well go out in infamy…and ruin Trash at the same time. John could see the headline in his mind, wrestler kill wrestler in match gone wrong on pay per view…
John smiles, as Trash brings the gun to his own head. Trash’s hair falls over the chambers of the revolver.
Trash: That’s funny John. I too have had some words with our good friend Posh…as a matter of fact, since I’m risking death here, I might as well tell you already. Posh was not only your ally in this match…Posh was also your enemy…Posh was my hiding place.
John’s eyes widen.
John M White : You don’t mean…
Trash smiles…
Trash : Posh had the documents, had them in his thick little fingers, and put them in your desk. Posh didn’t like you, didn’t like me, didn’t like anybody. Posh hates REW and I’m sure it would be his fantasy to see us kill each other over something as trivial as that. The documents should be in your desk John…but how much can you trust your supposed back up?
John…John crashes. If Posh has the documents…if Posh knows what’s in that briefcase…he would run straight to the nearest courthouse and ruin the lawyer for life! To hell with the title, John has to catch…has to find Posh before he can get those papers to the courthouse!
But what about Trash’s side of the bargain?
John M White : I can trust him as much as anybody else…now, we’ve agreed to play Russian Roulette…your turn, remember?
Trash laughs, lifting the revolver again.
Trash : Oh I remember…
Trash gets up, points the gun to his head.
~~~BANG!~~~
A flash of light…smoke…and Trash falls to the floor, the gun sliding across to John. The lawyer pauses, hearing the dull thud of the Sanity Asassin’s fall, but unable to see much in the momentary flash of light.
Excited, nervous, and everything in between, John scrambles to the desk, forcing the locked drawer open. Finally, the lawyer opens it, grabs the briefcase…
And hears a voice.
Trash : Looks like we had a fair trade after all, your title, for my papers.
A metallic *chink* is heard as Trash taps the golden title.
John holds the leather briefcase.
Whose took what first?
John M White : I thought you killed yourself.
Trash is heard getting up off the floor.
Trash : No, just a little theatrics…the bullet’s right there in the wall…the distraction allowed me to grab that title from under your desk, as you rushed towards it. But hey…you still have the documents, and that’s what matters right?
John scowls through clenched teeth. Everything matters to him. As Trash gets up, putting the belt on his wounder shoulder like some sort of makeshift bandage, John rips open the leather briefcase, pulls the stack of papers out…and the lights of the arena turn on.
John looks at the pages.
Blank.
Blank !
Every single page in the briefcase is blank!
Trash never had any incriminating papers in the first place...John's mind has incriminated himself, John could not help but believe that....
But as far as the Lawyer is concerned, the question still remains.
Were there no papers in the first place or did Posh take them and replace them with blanks as he left? No title, no papers, not even peace of mind for the Lawyer.
John M White : NO!
John Michael White shouts to the whole world.
Iconoclast goes off air.
*FIN*
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