Post by Zahara Matisse on Sept 10, 2016 10:01:24 GMT -6
”The smile goes away and the Sorceress comes out to play...”
I. For Love and For the Future… and to Keep Me Sane
The first we see of VoW’s Magical Maiden is of her sitting behind the counter within a semi-busy office, her fingers dancing atop a keyboard as her glass-shielded eyes glance to paperwork set on the desk to her right. The view is stationary for the most part though the camera shifts a bit to take her in as she works. Wearing a modest silk blouse of sky blue and tan slacks, her hair wrapped up into a messy bun with a few strands of black and purple hanging to frame her face, Zahara is locked in on her work. From minute to minute she’ll shift a paper around and keep on going with barely a pause in her rhythmic key-tapping, the gold of her eyes somewhat muted by the reading glasses perched on the end of her nose.
Somewhere along the way, Zahara Matisse, the Enchanting One of Visionaries of Wresting, gained a new identity to add to the many she already possessed: Zoey Anne Madigan, therapist intern at the South Malibu Physical Therapy Center. A middle-aged gentleman, balding a bit and wearing a slightly-rumpled suit, comes up to the counter and within seconds Zoey looks up at him with a bright smile. The man seems a bit taken aback by it, perhaps used to a different sort of greeting at a place of this nature.
”Good morning, Mr. Higgins! Here for your 10:30 with Dr. Cecilia?”
”Ah, yes… yes, that’s right. Are you new here? I can’t place your face.”
”Actually, yes. I’m interning here for the next several months. Name’s Zoey… pleasure to meet you.”
She extends her manicured hand to the older man, who shakes it gently while trying to decide if he recognized her face from elsewhere. It looked for a moment like it may have dawned on him before Zoey drew back and picked up the phone, tapping in a few digits quickly. Mr. Higgins kept right on looking… well, staring, more like… while Zoey spoke into the receiver.
”Hello, Cecilia? Mr. Higgins is here for his 10:30. Mm-hmm. All right. I’ll tell him.”
Hanging up, she turned that smile on the patient again, causing him to flinch just a bit. He was learning fast what VoW fans had known about Zoey’s performer side for almost a year now: she could enchant you with a turn of her lips.
”I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Higgins, but her 9:30 is running just a bit behind. If you’d be so kind as to have a seat it shouldn’t be longer than ten minutes before she’s ready for you. We do apologize for the delay.”
”Oh, no… that’s quite all right. Thank you.”
Finally thinking to offer a smile in return, the man adjourns to one of the plush faux leather armchairs across from the counter, quickly picking up a months-old Sports Illustrated to give himself something to focus on other than the dark-haired lady behind the counter. Back to her inputting of records, or orders… or whatever those papers entailed. Her smile was still in place, although a bit more natural and calm. The words we hear via voice-over, however, overtaking the odd ring of the phone or chime of the doors opening and closing nearby, reveal anything but calm contentment.
At some point, I’m going to reach my limit and the sweet, smiling magician that everyone purports to love and adore is simply going to snap. Eventually the secrets, the lies and the deceptions are going to get to be too much. I’m as thick-skinned as they come, having been brought up as an accepting, patient person with, in my father’s and brother’s words, ‘a heart bigger than the world deserves’. Enough, however, is enough.
The best way to describe myself as far as relationships both simple and complex go is that I friend hard and love harder. People can form their own assumptions on what that means, but if they want the truth they can look at the smiles of the people who are close to me. Reya Serra termed me the Bringer of Smiles and I take that nomenclature to heart. Lately, though? Those I try to give the brightest smiles to are the ones who seem intent on taking mine away. Understanding only carries me so far when it comes to dealing with the aftermath, and even standing far from the epicenter I feel like I’m in the bloody blasting zone.
Is this what love is supposed to be? Giving my all and getting back wounds in return? No… no, I don’t think that’s it. I just need to keep moving… keep smiling…
Just keep swimmin’, just keep swimmin’... swimmin’, swimmin’, swimmin’...”
Her rather spot-on impression of Dory from Finding Nemo (and now start of her own animated flick), ends just in time for another woman to come up from the other side of the counter. Red-haired and tall with an athletic build not unlike that of Zoey herself, the navy-suited woman sets a hand on Zoey’s shoulder, each nail tipped in shocking red.
”Mornin’, sugar! My GOD the traffic out there this morning! What happened, did a truckload of potatoes flip over on the turnpike or what?”
She has a faint southern accent and Zoey turns to look up at her with a grin.
”How much you wanna bet it was some teenager texting their autobiography to their girlfriend and steering with their knee?”
“Drinking Starbucks with the other hand and more pissed now that they got it on their Gucci jeans instead of the thousands of dollars of damage to their car and two others?”
”Welcome to Malibu!”
”Guess the traffic is a good thing then, eh? They’re going slow enough out there that no one’s like to get hurt if there IS a wreck.”
Just when you thought sweet little Zoey was making cracks about someone getting mangled in a bad auto accident. Thought you had her, didn’t you?
”They really should learn not to do anything while they’re driving except drive. But most don’t learn till it’s too late.”
”Zoey, you’re too pure for this world, I’m telling you!”
”That’s why you’re here, though, Serah! Someone’s gotta be the bad girl!”
The southern belle that is Serah laughs quite loud at that one, moving over to the office chair next to Zoey’s, still chuckling while she sat. Since she wasn’t denying it, though, Zoey must have been dead on about Serah’s nature. The revelry had Mr. Higgins looking up but as soon as Serah set eyes on him he looked back down and she smirked without a word. One ring of the phone later, Zoey had picked up and put down the receiver, calling out to the man awaiting his appointment.
”Dr. Cecilia is ready for you now, Mr. Higgins!”
”Oh… thank you. Say, I’m sorry to be rude, but…”
The magician’s eyes flicked to the magazine that the man was holding and then back to him, gently interrupting him with a smile and a nod.
”Yes, that would be me and a few of my associates. My lovely co-workers are fond of putting that magazine on top of the stack every day to make sure people know who’s setting up their appointments.”
Nodding, just the tiniest bit flabbergasted, the man heads off through the open door and down the hallway while Serah giggles behind her hand.
”No one could mistake a smile like yours, hon.”
”They could. If given the chance.”
Shooting her co-worker a fine smirk, Serah giggled again and started up her computer as Zoey went back to her electronic filing. Her voice cuts in again over top of the scene.
”...except it doesn’t look like it’s set to stop any time soon and my arms are getting tired. Tired of continuing to swim and carrying the load that, admittedly, I’ve lowered onto my own shoulders without a second thought. Some nights I look in the mirror before I go and lie next to my fiancee and I don’t see a woman there. I don’t see a wrestler, a magician, a therapist or anything like that. I see a scared little girl, barely into her teen years, wondering where all her friends went. She’s staring at her own face, trying to figure out what’s wrong with her, thinking maybe she’s just not that pretty and that’s why they stopped talking to or calling her.
Since joining VoW I’ve taken a lot of heat from a lot of people, and the sad part is that very little of it has to do with my ring work or the amount of time I put into my career in terms of media and such. It’s always about who I associate with or my intimate preferences or just people being out-and-out salty because they think just because they have a fancy nickname or derivative gimmick that they’re just gonna walk all over the ‘new girl’... or the ‘rat’... or the ‘peasant’. Insert snarky, diminishing nickname here. It changes day to day, you see.
And that, of course, leads to moments like this, where I have to fight for every smile I put on my face and dredge up a week’s worth of fortitude to be the Zahara that some people know and love. Because I do care about this business and the fans that put down hard-earned money to come out and see us every show, buying t-shirts, trading cards, posters… all that. Seeing their happy faces, signing a few autographs and giving up tons of free time… I’ve never minded that. Never will. What I hate? Is when it gets to this point and I feel like I’m forcing myself to do what I love, both for them and in front of them. It drives me up the wall. I hate it.”
Work gets a bit quiet while Zahara says her peace, broken up only by a man of around 30 coming toward the counter, dressed in a white button-down over charcoal slacks. Serah eyes him out of the corner of her vision, subtly licking her lips. Zoey is focused more on her work until he actually reaches the counter, looking up with a smile.
”Good morning, Dr. Aron. Have a safe trip to work this morning?”
”Oh, lovely. Except for some ignorant millennial snarling up traffic with a fender bender near the freeway.”
”Lemme guess, sugar: cell phone and coffee?”
”Right in one.”
Exchanging glances, the two women behind the counter laugh quite boisterously at the handsome doctor’s explanation, leaving him a touch confused. The conversation goes quiet between the three, still going on but not audible… the reason why being a last bit of rumination by the Magical Maiden.
”Now, you’d think that considering what I got coming up, I’d be happy to have a little vitriol stored up. Except that’s never been my way. I don’t bring outside concerns into the squared circle. Business is business, and in the ring I’m nothing but. As it stands, I’ve already had some pointed words with my Breakthrough #51 opponent, the reigning Zero Gravity Champion Ace Watson via Twitter. Him and his charming lady, Bianca Davis. I wouldn’t bring her up if it weren’t for the fact that two days after #51 I’m heading to Santa Monica for the first episode of Wipeout to take part in the Killer Queen Tournament for Perfect 10 Wrestling… and she’s my first opponent.
Let me reiterate my point here for you, Ace, and the rest of the world watching right now: I respect the fact that you’re a champion and that you’ve gone through some top-flight challengers, including my dear little sister Katie Moicelle, in order to stay champion. The Zero Gravity Championship, for my money, is the second most hotly-contested title in VoW right behind the World Visionary Championship. You’re respected… but what you’re not is special. To me, you’re just another opponent on another Breakthrough on the same road toward me trying to make a name for myself in this business. This… is really just another match.
You hate hearing that as much as Bianca hates hearing that people are just going to bow to her cause she’s pretty and got a fancy crown from her last trip through the Burger King drive-thru. But that’s life. It’s something you two gotta learn to deal with if you’re ever going to find some peace in your chosen vocations. Like my best friend Farrah says, ‘life is hard, get a helmet’. I’m taking you two as serious as it is possible to without my focus boiling over into the realm of obsession and you’re both getting a battle like none other from the Enchanting One… but that’s as far as my concern with either of you goes. And I have to maintain that outlook, that attitude.
Because I know it’s the only chance I have.”
Lights down, fade out.
II. Their Happiness Both Helps and Hurts
Several hours later, enough for daylight to dwindle and for the sun to lower into the Pacific, the camera catches Zahara on her way out of work for the day. The double-shift was her idea but the ginger nature of her motion showed that she might not have been ready for it. Not as much as she thought anyway. Another woman is walking out with her, an older and slightly more severe personage whose features bring to mind the meme-worthy one-liner ‘resting bitch face’. The two are chatting though not loudly enough to be picked up as Zahara holds the door for the other woman and stands by as she locks up.
The view closes in a bit, enough to catch the end of their conversation, with the older woman tucking her keys into her pocket while looking up the few inches that the magician had on her. Something Zahara says has the older woman smile and the change in her appearance is amazing as a result… like a young, doting grandmother rather than a throat-crushing widow.
”...really don’t have to come in tomorrow if you don’t want to. The double-shift today counts as two.”
”I know, Cecilia, but I want to. It’s not just about the course credit. One day… I want my own place like this. And long hours are gonna be the norm especially at the start.”
”Now don’t you go putting us out of business or something, dear. It wouldn’t be very neighborly.”
Zahara laughs sweetly at that, shaking her head.
”Definitely not my intention. My establishment is going to be a little more independent as I imagine it. Alternative approaches and all that.”
She continues walking the doctor to her car, her own truck parked a few spaces down the lot. Cecilia puts her bags in the back seat of her black Lexus and opens the driver side door then, leaning on it as she looks at Zahara.
”You might consider going a bit further in school and focusing on chiropractic care. There’s a big call for it these days. That’s what a lot of our care boils down to here, in fact.”
Looking as though she were seriously considering the idea, Zahara replies.
”I was thinking about that… or focusing on kinesiology. That'd be a big help too, y’know?”
”Either way you’d be better for it. I’ll see you in the morning, dear. Drive safely. Lot of crazy idiots on the road these days.”
”I’ll do my best. You do the same.”
Watching as Cecilia starts up her luxury sedan and pulls out of the lot, Zoey is finally alone for a few moments. She wasn’t quite as bright and smooth as she’d been that morning. In the hours between, a careful eye would note, some of her light makeup was reapplied and her eyes were a little redder than normal. Her smile did a slow fade as she walked over to her truck, deactivating the alarm and fishing her phone out of her pocket. The harsh artificial light slammed it home: despite work going smoothly, not much else was.
She swept through her messages, leaning on the side of the truck after depositing her things in the rear of the cab. A few made her smiling faintly but some had her shaking her head, both defeatedly and sometimes in utter disgust. It was one in particular that caught her eye, causing her to murmur aloud her thoughts.
”Just what’re you getting into, Farrah? Haven’t heard you talk like this in… ever.”
Shaking her head, that smile making a brief reappearance, the magician continued sweeping through her notifications, coming to a second that made her pause. She read it twice, thrice… her lips moved as she did but not enough to be read themselves.
”Life goes on, huh? Bloody swell.”
Whatever it was that she muttered was in Italian and it didn’t sound pleasant.
”No… not here. Not now. Save it for Breakthrough, Zoey… and leave some for Wipeout, too.”
Sighing, she shoved the phone back in her pocket and climbed into her truck. The black-and-purple Ford roared to life and in moments was out of the lot and on the main drag toward home. When the taillights fade, so does the feed.
III. Real Talk… Not Real Happy, Not Real Smiley, Just… Talk
One of the backstage dressing rooms at the Foxwoods in Vegas is the next thing we see, though unlike other such locales we’ve viewed in the past this one is personal. The Enchanting One has been moving up in the world, it would appear, now actually warranting her own private dressing room for her Vegas shows. Make no mistake; it’s a simple room. Lighted mirror over the make-up table, a small sofa and chair around a coffee table and a few lockers for her to store her things…
...hey, it’s a step up.
It probably would have meant more to the magician any other time, but as she’d tell people herself she was distracted. The world was weighing on her. She’d related as much recently… not long ago, in fact, from the watchers’ perspective. Right now, though, the woman herself is nowhere to be seen and the camera’s still in the process of being fiddled with. What we take in is peppered with irritated mumbling as, from somewhere in the room, Zahara speaks up. She’s close… just not visible.
”Trouble, Mikey?”
”Eh, camera’s just being finicky. Sorry, ma’am. I’m not used to the new models yet.”
A faint bit of laugh emits from behind a tall changing screen set near the corner of the room, set near the lockers. A few pieces of purple and black are draped over the top of it and, based on the lighting, there’s a slender female silhouette moving about behind it. The camera gets focused in short order after a few more mutterings from Mikey, the ‘REC’ indicator naturally having been on the whole dang time.
”Okay, suppose we can edit all this out later… there. I think we’re ready, ma’am. You sure you wanna start right now? I can wait till you’re… y’know… dressed.”
You can’t hear a smile, usually. But when it comes to the Bringer of Smiles you certainly can. It’s all in her words.
”Hence the screen, dear. Or is it yourself that you don’t trust?”
”No, ma’am...”
”Zoey.”
”Right… Zoey. Just worried that you might be giving people the wrong impression. Lot of lecherous folks these days, y’know.”
”I know. But I can’t change what they think. Thank you for saying such, though. I appreciate the consideration.”
There’s a brief break in the recording, the jump likely less than a minute, and then the view is centered on the changing screen. After a few moments, perhaps more properly, the focus is on a bare leg propped up on the nearby bench, a hint of purple at the tip of each toe. Zahara’s voice wafts from behind the screen, a fair bit firmer and more controlled than is standard.
Not unlike it had been when she was voicing her thoughts in an uncensored fashion prior.
”So, ladies and gentlemen, and Ace Watson…”
There’s the smile in the words again, with a dash of spicy snark.
”...if I’m understanding right, I should be preparing harder than ever for next week. After all, facing such an amazingly talented champion who has just been on an absolute tear of late is one thing, but then having to face royalty in the form of his stunning lady not two days later? I mean, who could possibly handle such odds without simply cracking under the stress?
It’s NOTHING like getting on stage in front of thousands and holding the attention of thousands in your hands, having to manipulate their senses into believing in something that, deep down, they all know is just a trick. It certainly doesn’t come close to putting your body on the line on an ocean of mats before thousands more, making the human body do things that are usually reserved for stuntmen with wires on a movie set. Or becoming another person entirely, infusing yourself with a soul created in the mind of one of the great Renaissance artists of long ago and making people believe that you’re not you.
No, Ace, the Magical Maiden knows nothing about pressure. I’ve only been putting on shows physical and magical for more than half of my life. And before you snarkily ask, yes, I’ve fallen on my face more than once. And it hurt… not just physically. But I always got back up, centered myself and kept fighting. I learned from my mistakes and moved on. No, that wasn’t always enough, and you can point to my two show-stealing matches with Constance Chapin as a perfect example of such in that regard, but I have never stopped. That’s the main reason why, at Breakthrough?
You’re the one who’d better be concerned with me.”
Hands bearing something silky extended from behind the screen, along with a glimpse of long, dark hair… but no sign of the magician’s face. With practiced care she works the material over her toes, then her foot, then up her leg… the textured material stitched to look like fishnets as it holds snug to her toned stem. She soon repeats with the other leg before being fully behind the screen again, her shadow the only thing to tell the tale of her motions.
”You darn sure get credit for success. And despite the tiredness of the line I’m aware of how the winners write the history books. That’s just a rule of life. You can look at yourself in the mirror every morning with that title over your shoulder, having slept like a baby before and knowing you’re gonna sleep like a baby after. That’s cool. Flush with success and golden glory. Hey, I might be the same myself if I ever win a title. That ain’t likely any time soon, but a girl can dream.”
There’s a faint giggle after those words as her body bends at the waist, legs lifting to step into something that she pulls up inch by inch. Certainly Zahara isn’t one to try and be forcefully alluring. But she draws a lot more than smiles, it is known.
”But I’m a magician. And you know what they say: you can’t con a con.”
Her shadow waggled a finger at the camera and you just know she was grinning.
”Some of your wins lately have been you picking the bones from another hunter’s kill, Ace. Or you just straight up showing a supreme lack of scruples in taking advantage of an opponent’s concern. Call it what you want cause I know you got a retort for it all. But I also know that you do that to convince yourself. It’s the same mantra every night as your head hits the pillow, the same words you say to yourself to convince your heart and soul that you’re not a sneaky rogue hanging on to his belt by a thread.
Like Arya Stark chanting the names of those she wishes to kill, it’s your ritual. It brings you peace during the slumbering hours. Actions like yours, though, they always have consequences. That isn’t to say that I’m intended to be such a consequence. After all, how could I be when your title isn’t even on the line? You wanna know? Cause I can tell you how...”
Her arms move, presumably going behind her to fasten up whatever she just put on. It does allow a moment for her profile to be seen from the side, though. Even her shadow is beautiful...
”...it’s a little something I like to call ‘humility’. Because when I beat you, Ace, or even if I only take you to the edge and make you stare that long, sheer drop right in the eye? They’re gonna know one more time what I’m made of. And, if the Fates are kind? I’ll be stepping in the ring with you again real soon for that awesome belt you got wrapped around your waist.
If and when that happens? You’re gonna know for darn sure who and what you really are. You’re going to know your place. And if I have it my way, your place will be at the back of the line, fighting your way back up for a shot at the title I took from you.”
Drawing a thick black piece from over the top of the screen, Zahara sweeps it around her shoulders as she goes on a bit, some fire finding its way through her words.
”Talking pretty big right now, ain’t I? That’s because I know I got nothing to lose here. If you beat me, that’s what most people thought was supposed to happen anyway. You're a champion and you’ve beaten some real talent, methods aside, to stay champion. You did what was expected and bully to you for that. But if I beat you? Eyes open, ears widen and mouths shut… yours included. Happened when I beat Tyler Storm back when he carried the I4NI strap, happened when I wrapped up Matthew Robinson at Heatstroke. Factor in Stacy Jones and Matt Slater, too, if you want. They’ve had their share of success. And by rights all four of them should have put me down as easily as you imply that you took down people like Katie Moicelle, Jamo and Tristan Ambrose.
They didn’t. Neither will you.”
Her leg rises and rests on the bench again, soon to disappear into tall leather boots that rose past her knee, zipped tightly up the inner side. She repeats with the other leg before righting herself, tossing her hair and stepping from behind the screen.
Her black hair, streaked with dark purple, hangs loose about her shoulders as she reveals her stage attire for this week’s events. She gives a graceful twirl and draws one leg back in a deep, courteous bow to the camera. We can clearly hear Mikey gasp at the sight of her, bringing her to the point of raising up and giving him a kind wink and smile.
”Thank you, sir.”
Even without stage make-up she’s a wicked vision of magical delight. Mikey has no problem following her with the camera as she strides to the lighted mirror and takes a seat, arranging her cloak behind her. Never one to overdo the cosmetics, Zahara starts with her lips, applying a subtle purple to them and lining it in a bit of black to make it stand out. It is only after that that she can properly continue to address the Zero Gravity Champion.
”Again… big talk from the magician. But my problem has seldom been confidence. And when I say my piece to the P10 fans, I’ll be having the same tone with Bianca. What’s the worst that can happen? Losing? Been there, done that. Considering the level of effort it took people to beat me, I got no shame.
My only issue coming into this match is my personal life, but all that… maybe it’ll be to my benefit. Maybe the trials and tribulations between the friends and family that I hold so dear to my heart will give me a little extra fire. Maybe I just imagine all that crap is coming from you instead of them as I’m twisting your arm in a direction you will find most uncomfortable. Yeah, it’s been too long since I put my training with Catherine to proper use.”
She smiled, more to herself, as the camera took in both of her: the woman facing the mirror and the lovely reflection staring back out.
”When I first got here, I put on a show. My flexibility, speed and stamina won me the day more times than I could count before Constance Chapin taught me several lessons, all of which I’m grateful for. Then I stepped in the cage with Catherine and it all changed. I learned to fight, Ace. I learned how to shut a person down with a stiff knee or forearm, taking the breath and fight right out of them. It was ground into me how to turn their attack into their defeat, wrapping up whatever limb they offered and making them beg for mercy. I’m not a wicked person by any stretch, but when glory is on the line… we all gotta tap into the darkness a little. The trick is not letting it control you.
That didn’t get me the Xcel Championship, but you can ask any opponent since then about just how dangerous the Magical Maiden can be between the ropes. Well, they’d tell you that before… but now? They shout it from the rooftops. There’s no trickery or sorcery about that, either. As much as I love entertaining the people in the arena, what I do in that ring is real. When I win, it’s not a sneaky spell. When I shock people into taking me serious with one move or counter, it’s not an alluring enchantment. People like to mock what I do for a living beyond wrestling sometimes… not much, but often. I hope you don’t fall into that same trap, Ace. I hope you’re smart enough to realize the threat that I am to you.”
Turning one way, then the other, she lines and colors her eyes with soft purple. Beyond that… a little mascara to make those lashes stand out and a touch of blush to add extra color to her smiling cheeks. And thus Zoey becomes Zahara all over again.
”The smiling, happy magician… a threat. She who spends hours before and after shows signing autographs, posing for pictures and chatting with the fans. The girl who is too pure for this world and takes such pain for being that way, as some like to throw in her face. Who makes it all about the people she loves and performs for but almost never about herself.
Yeah, that’s me. I’m a threat to you, Ace Watson. And my hunger for gold has never been stronger. I look at Emma Carlisle, who’s been here just a little longer than me and has the biggest belt in the company and… yeah, you know what? I’ll say it. I’m jealous. We’ve had our differences but that woman is the best there is in this company and if you doubt it, maybe you go find Casanova English and ask HIM what’s up with Death.
I want to be that woman. I want to earn a title of my own and hold it up high. To see the happy tears of the children that look up at me and the pride in those who have seen me to this point with patience, love and understanding. It… it ain’t even FOR me. It’s for them. I’ll wear it, defend it and treat it like the greatest treasure in the world… but it will be theirs. No question in my mind.”
For a moment, it looks as though the Enchanting One might be tearing up. She closes her eyes and draws in a deep breath or two, then opens up anew. Dabbing very carefully at her eyes with a tissue so as not to disrupt the art of her make-up, she smiles a little.
”But that sure as heck ain’t promised, and I’d have to beat you to even come close to making such an opportunity happen. Tall task. Maybe even beyond me despite my confidence and desire being full throttle. But that’s never stopped me before. Nothing can stop me. Never has, never will.
By the time Breakthrough #51 is over, Ace, you’re gonna add something new to that mantra. You’re gonna thank your lucky stars…”
Pun alert!
”...that that belt wasn’t up for grabs. You’re gonna promise every night when you lie down next to your Burger Queen Bianca that you’ll be good, that you’ll do right… if only it keeps you out of the path of my magic. If it buys you another month… a week… a day… a freaking second...”
She holds up her thumb and forefinger, THAT close to touching.
”...where you don’t have to face me again with your treasure on the line. Whether I beat you or not, I will make you humble. Gods willing? I’ll make your woman humble too by the time I send her out of Santa Monica with a nice, fat L on her P10 record. Then the two of you can be better people thanks to the Bringer of Smiles.”
Rising from the table, she picks up her gloves, black instead of white for tonight, and pulls them over her purple tipped fingers. On goes the hat, jauntily tipped to the side a little. And up comes her wand, twirled and brought down with a sharp crack against the tile floor. A more shallow bow is given as sparkling purple smoke emits from the floor thanks to its contact with the wand, soon swallowing her up.
”The show of a lifetime, Ace. Remember those words. Cause it’s your lifetime that could very well be changing after you get a taste of a little Zahara-style magic. Now you see me...”
The smoke soon dissipates, leaving nothing but an empty space where Zahara once stood…
”...now you don’t. And for my text trick, I shall make your title reign… disappear.”
...though her voice, ghostly yet enticing, remains. She laughs beautifully before that, echoing lower and lower, fades like the smoke.
Fade-out.
