Origins of a Villanous Nature: Issue 2
Jul 10, 2016 13:52:15 GMT -6
Spencer Adams and The Polar Phantasm like this
Post by Wentworth Updegraff Jr. on Jul 10, 2016 13:52:15 GMT -6
The walls of the classroom are white and sterile. Rows upon rows of students occupy the stadium style classroom. Nearly 200 people occupy the room, none of them talking. Every last one of them is staring straight forward at the pristine white board. Wentworth sits in the exact center of the crowd, his own eyes darting around the room in confusion. He looks down at himself to see that he is dressed in blue jeans, a white t-shirt, and a button up flannel. Panicking, he tries to wipe off the poor, but it does no good. Suddenly, the door in the front of the room opens, and in walks Jay Omega, only something’s different, something Wentworth can’t quite put his finger on.
Omega:Alright students. Today we will be discussing the tactics and strategy involved in Napoleon Bonaparte’s military dominance. Please open your textbooks to page 325.
Wentworth looks down to see a book that wasn’t in front of him before. The front cover bears Jay Omega’s grinning visage. The title is emblazoned above his head in gold lettering. “The history of the whole world, by Jay Omega.” Wentworth flips open the book, which immediately opens to page 325. Instead of any information, the words “You can’t possibly win” are printed over and over. He flips to the next page, same thing. His eyes shoot up to Omega, who is now staring directly at him. The room is now empty except for them. After a moment or two of silence, Omega’s eyes turn a glowing red, and long tentacles covered in tiny little spikes sprout from where his arms were in a burst of blood and flesh. They new limbs stretch out, wrapping around Wentworth’s body before he has time to run. Wentworth tries to scream, but finds he can’t. The tiny needles dig into his skin, as Omega lifts him into the air, a demonic voice emanating from his mouth.
Omega:Did you really think you could beat me? Did you really think you could defeat the Omega man?!
The tentacles squeeze tighter, cutting off Wentworth’s oxygen. He gasps desperately for breath, but finds none.
Omega:Yes, Wentworth. Feel the life leave you. The day you stepped into my world, you numbered your days.
His lungs burn and ache, as he tries in vain to free himself from the creature’s grip. He looks down to see Omega’s mouth is no longer a mouth. Jagged teeth jut out from a gaping, monstrous maw. He brings Wentworth closer and closer, opening wide. It’s at that moment that Wentworth shoots up to a sitting position, sweat dripping from his forehead. He fills his lungs with air, as he looks around his own room, a sense of relief washing over him.
Wentworth:Jesus Christ…
The unexpected voice from the woman in his bed makes him jump slightly.
Woman:What’s wrong?
He runs his fingers through his hair, and looks down at the naked blond woman laying next to him.
Wentworth:Nothing uh…
He searches for a name, but barely recognizes her face.
Wentworth:...nothing. I’m fine, go back to sleep.
The woman doesn’t seem interested in questioning it, and lays her head back down on the pillow. She’s snoring by the time Wentworth stands to his feet, and slips his black smoking jacket around his body. He wanders out into his living room, slowly making his way to the bar and pouring himself a drink. He steps across the cold, hardwood floor, and has a seat in his recliner. He takes a sip, while staring out his large, panoramic windows at the night sky. The stars twinkle from light years away, almost as if they’re putting on a private show for an inconsequential earthling they’ll never meet. Wentworth smiles when he hears the front door open, the faint voice of his older brother, Hunter, drifting in.
Hunter:Thanks for the ride, ladies! You ever need a favor, you call King Koopa Bloopa, you hear me? Alright then.
Hunter closes the door and stumbles down the hallway, half empty bottle of champagne in his hand. He notices his little brother, and smiles, revealing his diamond encrusted grill.
Hunter:Hey hey Went. What it do, my ‘nilla?
Wentworth takes another sip, thinking to himself “I have to destroy Jay Omega”
Wentworth:Just having a quick nightcap. How was your night?
Hunter:Oh man, it was the straight dope, you feel me If I remember, I’ll tell yo ass all about it tomorrow. Right now, the party train’s just about outta steam. Imma crash land in my bed, you feel me? WUT WUT!
Wentworth chuckles, and finishes his drink, as Hunter disappears into his room. Wentworth stands to his feet, and grabs his phone from the side table, pounding out a quick text message.
I would like a meeting with you as soon as possible. Let me know. -W
Wentworth slides his phone into the pocket of his jacket, and makes his way back into the bedroom. He lays down and tries to sleep, but his mind races with thoughts, plans, ideas, and fears. Jay Omega’s deformed, demonic face haunts him every time he closes his eyes, making sleep impossible.
Wentworth:I have to destroy Jay Omega.
___________________
Wentworth makes his way down the sidewalk, his lack of sleep almost making him feel like he’s floating. He passes by large groups of people enjoying the beautiful summer day, but notices none of them. He steps into the small, french cafe, taking a seat on the patio without waiting for a waitress. He slumps down into his chair, using the napkin dispenser to quickly organize his disheveled hair. The bags under his eyes tell the story of his sleepless night. He looks in disgust at his own face for another minute, before his attention is taken by the familiar, dark haired woman approaching his table. She is just as he remembered in his fantasies. Her smile shines bright as she sits down across from him, setting her purse on the ground.
Alicia:Nice to see you again, Allen.
Wentworth is confused for a moment, but remembers giving her the fake name when they first met.
Wentworth:Uh, yeah. Yeah, great to see you again. Really great.
Alicia:Yeah, I’m sorry I had to bail on you last time. Duty calls. You know how it is.
Wentworth:Oh, absolutely.
Wentworth’s usual quick witted nature is gone. It seems Alicia notices, cocking her head to the side.
Alicia:Are you alright?
Wentworth:Huh? Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. Just had a long night, that’s all.
Wentworth’s eye twitches, as a family with a child wearing a Jay Omega t-shirt sits near them.
Alicia:I can relate. The other weekend, me and an old friend…
She starts a story, but Wentworth can’t bring himself to pay attention. His paranoid eyes are too busy darting around the room. At one point he thinks he sees Polar’s face on one of the waiter’s heads, but he blinks and it’s gone. He shakes his head back and forth, trying to bring himself back down to Earth. He latches back on to the conversation as Alicia finishes her story.
Alicia:It’s just like she wasn’t even listening. You know what I mean?
Wentworth:Huh? OH yeah. Totally.
His attention is taken away when he sees a waitress pass by who he could swear looked exactly like Bonnie Blue. His face goes pale.
Alicia:Allen, are you sure you’re ok? You don’t look too good.
He is about to answer, when he looks down and sees what he thinks is a Jay Omega hat sticking out of her purse. He looks up at her with accusation in his eyes.
Wentworth:You!
Alicia:Me what?
Wentworth:He… he hired you! You work for Omega!
Alicia:Who?
Wentworth doesn’t answer. Instead, he leaps out of his chair, and over the railing of the patio, quickly scurrying off down the sidewalk, leaving a very confused Alicia sitting back at the cafe. Fear sweat drips down his face, as he hurries down the sidewalk. He shoves past a few groups, before finding the spot where his limo driver parked. He quickly slides into the back seat, and takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself. He straightens his tie, and then his hair, before pulling his phone out and turning the camera on himself.
Wentworth:Alright, I’m only going to say this once. Jay Omega is not getting to me. He might think he’s in my head, but he’s not. He’s NOT!
Wentworth pauses, trying once again to contain himself.
Wentworth:He can get all the restraining orders he wants, I don’t care. When we finally meet, I’m going to crush him just like I do everybody who steps in my way. Ask Beaver. Hell, next week you can ask Jessica Buck. People who get in my way don’t survive. It’s an easy enough equation, I would think even you could put it together. I’m the greatest TV champion UCI will ever see, and you can play all the games you want, but eventually you’ll have to fight me. When that happens, you’re going to end up like everyone else, a smear on the bottom of my boot.
Wentworth grabs the bottle out of the side panel in the car, and pours himself a drink. He doesn’t sip from it though. Not right away. He stares out the window as cars and buildings slowly creep by.
Wentworth:As for this week… somehow Jessica Buck got herself a TV title shot. I don’t know how, and honestly. I couldn’t care less. All you have to know is that the TV title is mine, and nobody’s going to take it from me again. Least of all you. Now, I’m sure this is the part where you expect me to launch into some sort of sexist tirade about how I don’t want to fight a woman, or how you belong in the kitchen, and not the ring. You won’t be getting any of that from me. You’re a competitor. As a competitor, you’re going to learn the exact same lesson I would teach any man stupid enough to try and take the belt away from me.
Wentworth swirls the amber liquid around in the short glass, watching instead of drinking. His eyes stay locked on his drink as he continues speaking.
Wentworth: I’ll give you this, you certainly live up to your nickname. I feel like we would get along famously if we had met anywhere else. Say, a nightclub, or an orgy in an abandoned warehouse where everyone wears masks and you need a password to get in. See, I understand you. Outside of the ring, you and I totally get each other. Problem is, we’re going to meet in the ring. Inside of that ring is where I do one thing, and one thing only. I destroy people. So, unfortunately, the beautiful music you and I could have made will go unheard. It’s a tragedy, really.
Wentworth finally takes a drink, and sits back in his seat, staring forward at nothing. He taps his toe against the seat in front of him without noticing.
Wentworth:Listen, Jess, I’m going to be honest with you. You’re hot, and your gimmick is cute for a minute. The problem is that once all that goes away, you’re nothing. You’re not here to be a wrestler. You’re here to get the pathetic, horny channel flippers to stop for a second a boost ratings. That’s all you are, and that’s all you ever will be. It might have gotten you this far, but one thing it will never get you is MY television championship. You see, I’m not just a pretty face and a hot body. I mean, I AM those things, but I’m more than that. I’m the total package, and a one note song like you could never even hope to compete with a finely tuned athlete like myself.
Wentworth tosses back the rest of his drink, as the limo comes to a stop. Outside, throngs of people push against the windows, hoping to get a glimpse of the wrestler.
Wentworth:This is why you won’t beat me. These people didn’t come to see a nice ass, because let’s be honest, your tits are like a B minus at best. They have the internet if they want the particular type of entertainment you provide. These people showed up to see greatness, to possibly get a chance to touch the hem of my suit, and be within inches of a once in a lifetime shooting star like Wentworth Updegraff Jr. That’s something you’ll never understand. You might think your looks are a benefit, but they’re really a handicap. You’ve never had to dig deeper, to truly test yourself, because people let you slide. A lifetime of that, and you’ve suddenly reached a spot in your career that you are woefully unprepared for. You know it, I know it, and everybody watching knows it. You seem to be the only one who can’t come to grips with it. It’s time.
Wentworth puts the booze back in the hidden compartment, and looks out the window at the crazed fans who can’t see him. He smiles a real smile for the first time in days, and turns back to the camera.
Wentworth:That’s enough though. You know exactly what you are. I don’t really think there’s any delusion about that. I just hope you’re prepared for what you’ve brought upon yourself. Did you like winning that number one contender’s match? I’ll bet you did. I’ll bet it was one of the greatest moments of your life. What I want you to do is savor that feeling. Remember it, and keep it in your heart, because that’s the best you’re ever going to feel again. Like I said, I couldn’t care less what’s between your legs. When you voluntarily step into my ring, you subject yourself to the same beating everyone else gets. Who knows, maybe you’re just looking for a way to indulge your masochistic side. If that’s the case, then you’re really going to enjoy what happens to you on Sunday. Sleep well until then, gorgeous, and know this… you will NEVER get your hands on MY TV title. See you Sunday.
Wentworth shuts off the camera, and sits back in his seat again, taking a deep breath. He mentally prepares for the onslaught of crazed fans, but is interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing.
Wentworth:Hello.
The voice of his father’s right hand man, Marvin Stanwick comes over the line, sending a shiver up Wentworth’s spine.
Marvin:Wentworth! Good to hear you voice.
Wentworth:I wish I could say the same. What do you want?
Marvin:You never were one for formality. Listen, Jenkins just told me that you texted him early this morning. Something about a meeting?
Wentworth:That’s between me and Jenkins.
Marvin:I beg to differ. As CEO-
Wentworth:Look, Marv. I’ve been waiting for this fight since my dad named me interim president, I really have. I just don’t have time for it today. All I am going to tell you is that minding your own business would be a good idea at this phase of the project.
Marvin:Alright, listen to me, you insolent little shit. If you really think you can just-
Wentworth:I can do whatever the hell I want, and you’d do well to remember that. You were my dad’s right hand man, but I never liked you, and I’m pretty sure the rest of the board members can’t stand you either. My father is the reason you’re still employed, and once he dies, so does your safety net. The way I see it, you have one of two choices. You can keep fighting me on this and enjoy your severance once my dad’s gone, or you can pucker up and be the good little ass kisser you were for my father. There is no third option. Take some time and think about it.
Wentworth hangs up without listening for a reply, a second actual smile coming to his face. He takes a moment to revel in the victory, before grabbing the TV title belt from the seat next to him, and opening the door. Screams envelop him as a group of security guards shove the fans back, and Wentworth steps out of the limo into the shining sun.
Wentworth:Ladies and gentlemen! The party can now begin!
Omega:Alright students. Today we will be discussing the tactics and strategy involved in Napoleon Bonaparte’s military dominance. Please open your textbooks to page 325.
Wentworth looks down to see a book that wasn’t in front of him before. The front cover bears Jay Omega’s grinning visage. The title is emblazoned above his head in gold lettering. “The history of the whole world, by Jay Omega.” Wentworth flips open the book, which immediately opens to page 325. Instead of any information, the words “You can’t possibly win” are printed over and over. He flips to the next page, same thing. His eyes shoot up to Omega, who is now staring directly at him. The room is now empty except for them. After a moment or two of silence, Omega’s eyes turn a glowing red, and long tentacles covered in tiny little spikes sprout from where his arms were in a burst of blood and flesh. They new limbs stretch out, wrapping around Wentworth’s body before he has time to run. Wentworth tries to scream, but finds he can’t. The tiny needles dig into his skin, as Omega lifts him into the air, a demonic voice emanating from his mouth.
Omega:Did you really think you could beat me? Did you really think you could defeat the Omega man?!
The tentacles squeeze tighter, cutting off Wentworth’s oxygen. He gasps desperately for breath, but finds none.
Omega:Yes, Wentworth. Feel the life leave you. The day you stepped into my world, you numbered your days.
His lungs burn and ache, as he tries in vain to free himself from the creature’s grip. He looks down to see Omega’s mouth is no longer a mouth. Jagged teeth jut out from a gaping, monstrous maw. He brings Wentworth closer and closer, opening wide. It’s at that moment that Wentworth shoots up to a sitting position, sweat dripping from his forehead. He fills his lungs with air, as he looks around his own room, a sense of relief washing over him.
Wentworth:Jesus Christ…
The unexpected voice from the woman in his bed makes him jump slightly.
Woman:What’s wrong?
He runs his fingers through his hair, and looks down at the naked blond woman laying next to him.
Wentworth:Nothing uh…
He searches for a name, but barely recognizes her face.
Wentworth:...nothing. I’m fine, go back to sleep.
The woman doesn’t seem interested in questioning it, and lays her head back down on the pillow. She’s snoring by the time Wentworth stands to his feet, and slips his black smoking jacket around his body. He wanders out into his living room, slowly making his way to the bar and pouring himself a drink. He steps across the cold, hardwood floor, and has a seat in his recliner. He takes a sip, while staring out his large, panoramic windows at the night sky. The stars twinkle from light years away, almost as if they’re putting on a private show for an inconsequential earthling they’ll never meet. Wentworth smiles when he hears the front door open, the faint voice of his older brother, Hunter, drifting in.
Hunter:Thanks for the ride, ladies! You ever need a favor, you call King Koopa Bloopa, you hear me? Alright then.
Hunter closes the door and stumbles down the hallway, half empty bottle of champagne in his hand. He notices his little brother, and smiles, revealing his diamond encrusted grill.
Hunter:Hey hey Went. What it do, my ‘nilla?
Wentworth takes another sip, thinking to himself “I have to destroy Jay Omega”
Wentworth:Just having a quick nightcap. How was your night?
Hunter:Oh man, it was the straight dope, you feel me If I remember, I’ll tell yo ass all about it tomorrow. Right now, the party train’s just about outta steam. Imma crash land in my bed, you feel me? WUT WUT!
Wentworth chuckles, and finishes his drink, as Hunter disappears into his room. Wentworth stands to his feet, and grabs his phone from the side table, pounding out a quick text message.
I would like a meeting with you as soon as possible. Let me know. -W
Wentworth slides his phone into the pocket of his jacket, and makes his way back into the bedroom. He lays down and tries to sleep, but his mind races with thoughts, plans, ideas, and fears. Jay Omega’s deformed, demonic face haunts him every time he closes his eyes, making sleep impossible.
Wentworth:I have to destroy Jay Omega.
___________________
Wentworth makes his way down the sidewalk, his lack of sleep almost making him feel like he’s floating. He passes by large groups of people enjoying the beautiful summer day, but notices none of them. He steps into the small, french cafe, taking a seat on the patio without waiting for a waitress. He slumps down into his chair, using the napkin dispenser to quickly organize his disheveled hair. The bags under his eyes tell the story of his sleepless night. He looks in disgust at his own face for another minute, before his attention is taken by the familiar, dark haired woman approaching his table. She is just as he remembered in his fantasies. Her smile shines bright as she sits down across from him, setting her purse on the ground.
Alicia:Nice to see you again, Allen.
Wentworth is confused for a moment, but remembers giving her the fake name when they first met.
Wentworth:Uh, yeah. Yeah, great to see you again. Really great.
Alicia:Yeah, I’m sorry I had to bail on you last time. Duty calls. You know how it is.
Wentworth:Oh, absolutely.
Wentworth’s usual quick witted nature is gone. It seems Alicia notices, cocking her head to the side.
Alicia:Are you alright?
Wentworth:Huh? Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. Just had a long night, that’s all.
Wentworth’s eye twitches, as a family with a child wearing a Jay Omega t-shirt sits near them.
Alicia:I can relate. The other weekend, me and an old friend…
She starts a story, but Wentworth can’t bring himself to pay attention. His paranoid eyes are too busy darting around the room. At one point he thinks he sees Polar’s face on one of the waiter’s heads, but he blinks and it’s gone. He shakes his head back and forth, trying to bring himself back down to Earth. He latches back on to the conversation as Alicia finishes her story.
Alicia:It’s just like she wasn’t even listening. You know what I mean?
Wentworth:Huh? OH yeah. Totally.
His attention is taken away when he sees a waitress pass by who he could swear looked exactly like Bonnie Blue. His face goes pale.
Alicia:Allen, are you sure you’re ok? You don’t look too good.
He is about to answer, when he looks down and sees what he thinks is a Jay Omega hat sticking out of her purse. He looks up at her with accusation in his eyes.
Wentworth:You!
Alicia:Me what?
Wentworth:He… he hired you! You work for Omega!
Alicia:Who?
Wentworth doesn’t answer. Instead, he leaps out of his chair, and over the railing of the patio, quickly scurrying off down the sidewalk, leaving a very confused Alicia sitting back at the cafe. Fear sweat drips down his face, as he hurries down the sidewalk. He shoves past a few groups, before finding the spot where his limo driver parked. He quickly slides into the back seat, and takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself. He straightens his tie, and then his hair, before pulling his phone out and turning the camera on himself.
Wentworth:Alright, I’m only going to say this once. Jay Omega is not getting to me. He might think he’s in my head, but he’s not. He’s NOT!
Wentworth pauses, trying once again to contain himself.
Wentworth:He can get all the restraining orders he wants, I don’t care. When we finally meet, I’m going to crush him just like I do everybody who steps in my way. Ask Beaver. Hell, next week you can ask Jessica Buck. People who get in my way don’t survive. It’s an easy enough equation, I would think even you could put it together. I’m the greatest TV champion UCI will ever see, and you can play all the games you want, but eventually you’ll have to fight me. When that happens, you’re going to end up like everyone else, a smear on the bottom of my boot.
Wentworth grabs the bottle out of the side panel in the car, and pours himself a drink. He doesn’t sip from it though. Not right away. He stares out the window as cars and buildings slowly creep by.
Wentworth:As for this week… somehow Jessica Buck got herself a TV title shot. I don’t know how, and honestly. I couldn’t care less. All you have to know is that the TV title is mine, and nobody’s going to take it from me again. Least of all you. Now, I’m sure this is the part where you expect me to launch into some sort of sexist tirade about how I don’t want to fight a woman, or how you belong in the kitchen, and not the ring. You won’t be getting any of that from me. You’re a competitor. As a competitor, you’re going to learn the exact same lesson I would teach any man stupid enough to try and take the belt away from me.
Wentworth swirls the amber liquid around in the short glass, watching instead of drinking. His eyes stay locked on his drink as he continues speaking.
Wentworth: I’ll give you this, you certainly live up to your nickname. I feel like we would get along famously if we had met anywhere else. Say, a nightclub, or an orgy in an abandoned warehouse where everyone wears masks and you need a password to get in. See, I understand you. Outside of the ring, you and I totally get each other. Problem is, we’re going to meet in the ring. Inside of that ring is where I do one thing, and one thing only. I destroy people. So, unfortunately, the beautiful music you and I could have made will go unheard. It’s a tragedy, really.
Wentworth finally takes a drink, and sits back in his seat, staring forward at nothing. He taps his toe against the seat in front of him without noticing.
Wentworth:Listen, Jess, I’m going to be honest with you. You’re hot, and your gimmick is cute for a minute. The problem is that once all that goes away, you’re nothing. You’re not here to be a wrestler. You’re here to get the pathetic, horny channel flippers to stop for a second a boost ratings. That’s all you are, and that’s all you ever will be. It might have gotten you this far, but one thing it will never get you is MY television championship. You see, I’m not just a pretty face and a hot body. I mean, I AM those things, but I’m more than that. I’m the total package, and a one note song like you could never even hope to compete with a finely tuned athlete like myself.
Wentworth tosses back the rest of his drink, as the limo comes to a stop. Outside, throngs of people push against the windows, hoping to get a glimpse of the wrestler.
Wentworth:This is why you won’t beat me. These people didn’t come to see a nice ass, because let’s be honest, your tits are like a B minus at best. They have the internet if they want the particular type of entertainment you provide. These people showed up to see greatness, to possibly get a chance to touch the hem of my suit, and be within inches of a once in a lifetime shooting star like Wentworth Updegraff Jr. That’s something you’ll never understand. You might think your looks are a benefit, but they’re really a handicap. You’ve never had to dig deeper, to truly test yourself, because people let you slide. A lifetime of that, and you’ve suddenly reached a spot in your career that you are woefully unprepared for. You know it, I know it, and everybody watching knows it. You seem to be the only one who can’t come to grips with it. It’s time.
Wentworth puts the booze back in the hidden compartment, and looks out the window at the crazed fans who can’t see him. He smiles a real smile for the first time in days, and turns back to the camera.
Wentworth:That’s enough though. You know exactly what you are. I don’t really think there’s any delusion about that. I just hope you’re prepared for what you’ve brought upon yourself. Did you like winning that number one contender’s match? I’ll bet you did. I’ll bet it was one of the greatest moments of your life. What I want you to do is savor that feeling. Remember it, and keep it in your heart, because that’s the best you’re ever going to feel again. Like I said, I couldn’t care less what’s between your legs. When you voluntarily step into my ring, you subject yourself to the same beating everyone else gets. Who knows, maybe you’re just looking for a way to indulge your masochistic side. If that’s the case, then you’re really going to enjoy what happens to you on Sunday. Sleep well until then, gorgeous, and know this… you will NEVER get your hands on MY TV title. See you Sunday.
Wentworth shuts off the camera, and sits back in his seat again, taking a deep breath. He mentally prepares for the onslaught of crazed fans, but is interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing.
Wentworth:Hello.
The voice of his father’s right hand man, Marvin Stanwick comes over the line, sending a shiver up Wentworth’s spine.
Marvin:Wentworth! Good to hear you voice.
Wentworth:I wish I could say the same. What do you want?
Marvin:You never were one for formality. Listen, Jenkins just told me that you texted him early this morning. Something about a meeting?
Wentworth:That’s between me and Jenkins.
Marvin:I beg to differ. As CEO-
Wentworth:Look, Marv. I’ve been waiting for this fight since my dad named me interim president, I really have. I just don’t have time for it today. All I am going to tell you is that minding your own business would be a good idea at this phase of the project.
Marvin:Alright, listen to me, you insolent little shit. If you really think you can just-
Wentworth:I can do whatever the hell I want, and you’d do well to remember that. You were my dad’s right hand man, but I never liked you, and I’m pretty sure the rest of the board members can’t stand you either. My father is the reason you’re still employed, and once he dies, so does your safety net. The way I see it, you have one of two choices. You can keep fighting me on this and enjoy your severance once my dad’s gone, or you can pucker up and be the good little ass kisser you were for my father. There is no third option. Take some time and think about it.
Wentworth hangs up without listening for a reply, a second actual smile coming to his face. He takes a moment to revel in the victory, before grabbing the TV title belt from the seat next to him, and opening the door. Screams envelop him as a group of security guards shove the fans back, and Wentworth steps out of the limo into the shining sun.
Wentworth:Ladies and gentlemen! The party can now begin!
