Kingdom Come V: Ace Stevens vs. Vega (c) - Mayhem Championship Match

[Harthan]

It is hard to believe that a championship defended as regularly as the Mayhem Championship has only seen two title holders since last year's Kingdom Come. The first title holder, Ace Stevens, in fact, never lost the title and seeing the current champion, Vega, proclaim to be the greatest champion to ever exist, Stevens had no choice but to return to WZCW to recapture the title he never lost. However, in his absence, Vega has taken control of the Mayhem division as his own, not being phased by any on-comers and was, at one time, on the company's longest winning streak and is currently the longest reigning champion. In what should be an epic Mayhem Rules encounter, we can assure you that this match won't be for the weak of heart as these two mastodons battle it out to determine who truly has been the best Mayhem champion.

Deadline is Thursday July 25, 2013 @ 11:59 P.M. (Central). No Extensions​

 

[Daniel]

Ace Stevens
Fantastic​

The stage is set. New York City Hall. Hundreds of New Yorkers look on as an elderly gentleman approaches the wooden podium assembled on the steps of one of New York’s most notable buildings. Dressed in a dark blue uniform decorated with a vast array of medals, he is clearly a senior member of the New York Police Department. As he steps up to speak, the assembled throng quiets down.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the United States of America is a nation that is found on the ideas of liberty and justice. It is for this reason, that I take it as a great honour to present the McTavish Award for bravery today. The man I will present it to is, quite simply, a remarkable human being. He is a symbol of hope in a world that is, all too often, shrouded in despair. As he hails from this fair city, I am sure he needs no introduction. Ladies and gentlemen, I am honoured to present the McTavish Award to Captain Fantastic.”

The crowd claps and cheers incredibly loudly for their fellow New Yorker, Captain Fantastic. He steps up to the podium Dressed in his crime-fighting costume of skin-tight red, white and blue material (emblazoned, appropriately enough, with the letter “F”), he looks every bit the American hero.

“Thank you, thank you,” says the Captain, gracefully. “Ladies and gentlemen, when people ask me what the proudest moment of my life has been, I do not have an answer. Because, quite frankly, every moment that I am in this suit, serving you, I am as proud as I possibly can be. You, the American people, are my family, and I-”

“Hold up there, Mr. Fantastic. Hold up for just one second.”

A man from the back of the crowd speaks up using a megaphone. Dressed in dark, practical military attire, he is flanked by about fifty almost identical women wearing a similar outfit. The man instantly commands a presence. The citizens gathered at the ceremony whisper and murmur. Not much is audible, apart from the words “The Grifter”.

“Now is not the time,” states Captain Fantastic with stern authority.

“Oh but it is, Captain” says the man, his last word tinged with a mocking attitude. “Now is exactly the time for me to you show why these people should be afraid.”

“Evacuate them now,” says Captain Fantastic to the senior police officers standing behind him. The men do as the Captain requests, announcing that the audience must disperse and be guided to safety. As the men, women and children of New York City scatter in a not-too-orderly manner, the man they call The Grifter begins walking slowly towards the podium in the wake of the mayhem, followed by his small army of disciplined females. Captain Fantastic looks on, backed by his own small (and far more diverse) army of police officers.

“I am telling you: do not do this. This is not the time!”

If anything, Captain Fantastic’s words are even sterner than before. But the man they call ‘The Grifter’ defiantly carries on walking, every step existing to prove a point. He throws the megaphone to the ground as his words are now audible to Captain Fantastic in the deserted public square.

“You need to be afraid too, Captain. Because you see, I’m a problem. I’m a problem for you. I’m a problem for New York. I’m a problem for the United States of America. I am a problem for the entire concept of morality. You can stand there are talking about good and evil all you want, but I’m here to tell you that those concepts, they don’t really exist. I was told from an early age, you have to take what you can in this world. And while the ultimate aim is the globe, I think I’ll start with you.”

There is a small moment of silenced, punctuated by The Grifter saying a single, yet immensely powerful, word.

“Go.”

The Grifter’s army of powerful women charge at the police officers backing Captain Fantastic. The two equally matched sides slug it out in hand-to-hand combat. This action, of course, leaves only two people motionless, locked in an intense stare down - Captain Fantastic on the steps of the City Hall and The Grifter on the ground, looking up. The Grifter moves first, running towards Captain Fantastic in much the same manner as his personal army just did. Captain Fantastic moves a split-second later, running towards his rival. The two men lock horns at the bottom of the steps, immediately engaging in quick-paced combat. The Captain’s strikes hit that much harder than his opponent’s, but The Grifter’s pace and technical ability levels the playing field.

Showing off the superhuman strength that he is known for, Captain Fantastic pushes The Grifter about fifteen metres away, creating distance between the two fighters. As the superhero charges, he is caught with a vicious kick from one of The Grifter’s female henchmen. The villain walks over to the fallen hero and stares at him intensely before putting his hand around the Captain’s neck and squeezes intensely. Captain Fantastic struggles to breathe in the grip, throwing his arms and legs around erratically. But as The Grifter starts to believe that he has this battle won, Captain Fantastic finds a second wind. Using every ounce of energy he has, he slowly pulls The Grifter’s hand from his throat. And in an act of desperation, he manages to throw the villain into the wall of a nearby building, once again showing off his incredible strength. The Captain then runs over to the now almost defeated Grifter. He effortlessly lifts him from the ground and once again throws him into the wall, this times rupturing the concrete. For the third, Captain Fantastic lifts his opponent and stares intensely into his eyes, anger seeping out every one of the hero’s pores.

A near incapacitated Grifter mouths the words “do it”, goading the furious Captain into betraying his ethics and using excessive force against him. Captain Fantastic thinks for a moment, but refuses to let his anger get the better of him. He drops the criminal and allows a nearby officer to make an arrest. Captain Fantastic walks away stoically, content with having done his job.

“So what do you think it means?” asks Ace Stevens, who is lying on a simple leather chaise longue. The room he is in is grand, antiquated and commands respect. All three terms which could be used to describe the man he is with - his therapist, Alexander Milford. The elderly, moustachioed man gently nudges his half-moon spectacles half a centimetre down his nose and begins to answer his patient’s question.

“Oneirology is an extremely complex subject. The dream you just described could have any number of meanings. The primary, most obvious meaning, however, is to do with the idea of heroism. Does that resonate with you in any way, Jonathan?”

“Man, I don’t know. Maybe. What does it say about this ‘heroism’, Doc?”

“Well that depends. Who are you in this dream? Who do you identify with? Captain Fantastic or The Grifter?”

“I don’t know,” says Ace, almost in resignation. “Are they really that different?”

“I would say so. One man wants to do good in the world. He wants to serve and protect. The other? Well, he wants everything, and he’ll stop at nothing to get it. It is pretty evident that this ‘Grifter’ character cares little for right and wrong, where as Captain Fantastic cares a great deal about those concepts. I would say that The Grifter possesses characteristics which can easily be linked with psychopathic behaviour.”

Ace looks sheepish as he internally recalls his past in WZCW. All the trash talk and all the aggression he once exhibited come back to him instantly.

“But... but couldn’t he just be misunderstood. Like, it’s not like he started killing all those people with an axe. How can he be a psychopath, or whatever?”

“That’s manic behaviour. Not psychopathic. Media such as films and novels have perpetuated this idea that classic psychopathic behaviour is wild and crazy. A lot of the time, that simply isn’t true.”

“Okay, but maybe The Grifter just sees the world differently, y’know? Like, people have different views on music or politics. Why can’t people look at morality the same way, man?”

“It’s very rare for people to look at the world the same way The Grifter does. Very rare. Most people would identify with Captain Fantastic and choose to live their life with a moral compass to guide them.”

“Yeah, but what about me? Where do I come into this? I mean, I’m the guy who dreamt this up.”

“Well in my opinion, this dream is your sub-conscious’s way of asking you to pick a side. You have been thinking about what morality means recently, haven’t you?”

“Eh, a little bit,” Ace says in a manner which disguises the fact that it is all he’s been thinking about recently.

“So what do you think? Good or bad? Light or dark? Captain Fantastic or The Grifter? You’ve got to ask yourself, Jonathan, which one are you?”

Ace ponders this question intensely in his mind. Seconds pass. Minutes pass. Hours pass. Time stops working and he can no longer open his eyes. His world starts to go dark and fuzzy as he can hear sounds far off in the distance. The sounds gradually become clearer and the colours become brighter.

“Ace...”

“Hey, Ace...”

“You’ve got to wake up, buddy.”

Stevens opens his eyes to see his agent, Lewis Middleton, standing over him.

“You’re match is up in half an hour. You need to get ready.”

“Um, yeah, sure,” says Ace wearily, still trying to make sense of his location - the men’s locker room of a WZCW show. He sits up on the bench he was previously sleeping on and looks around to see his colleagues in various states of preparation.

“This is it, Ace. This is Kingdom Come. How are you? Are you good? Are you fresh? Are you okay?” asks Middleton enthusiastically.

“I'm fantastic.”

 

[Infinity]

-Open-


--------------------------------
New York City
Fourth Cavalry Cemetery
Saturday, July 27th. 9:35 PM
--------------------------------



ALEXIS!

PUT THE LIGHTER DOWN

OR I WILL KILL YOU!



Vega has his chrome .44 caliber Magnum Desert Eagle handgun aimed directly at his partner Alexis' head. The putrid smell of decayed, insect eaten flesh pungently blends in with the aroma of rotten bones, as both marinate in a pure gallon of spilled gasoline. Vega continues to take deadly aim at Alexis, who has the Zippo lighter in her right hand as she stands over his mother's grave site. Her hands and face are covered with soil and gasoline. A dirty shovel lies by her feet as she stands there, tauntingly holding the lighter in her hand.


What are you gonna do, Vega...

shoot me?


Right on cue, Vega cocks back the hammer and loads a bullet into the chamber. His eyes painfully stare down the barrel of the gun as he lines up his sights perfectly with her forehead. He stares her down as she holds the lighter high up in her hand... and with a quick flick of her thumb, Alexis strikes up a flame.



--------------------------------
Earlier That Day

New York City
Vega's Penthouse
7:24 AM
--------------------------------


Fire suddenly ignites as Alexis switches on the kitchen stove. Wearing a white tank top and matching pair of rather short pajama bottoms, she stretches her arms up into the air, yawning in the process, while walking towards the cabinets. She pulls out a cute wooden box containing neatly organized packets of tea, and a metal pot. After placing the pot on the open flame, Alexis softly speaks to herself.


Today feels like an Earl Grey type of morning.


She pulls out a packet of Earl Grey flavored tea and opens it up. As she places the tea into the pot, the sound of a loud thud startles her. A splash of warm water nearly contacts her as she takes a quick step away from the stove. Another two thuds, in quick succession, reverberate through the kitchen. Alexis looks off into the distance and begins making her way to the source of the noise. She exits the kitchen and walks down the penthouse hallway, bypassing a couple of doors to her left and right until she reaches the end of the hall, and makes a right.

Immediately we're abruptly greeted by a large bright room with white walls and hardwood floors. There is workout equipment on one side of the large room, and various martial art equipment on the other side of the room. This is the side of the room in which we find Vega, wearing nothing but black Muay Thai shorts, black tape on his fists & feet, and the sweat agonizingly earned through this early morning training session. He is strategically moving around a swaying heavy bag in a circular motion as he occasionally fires in with blazing fast kicks, brutish stiff knees, blinding quick jabs, and blood spilling elbows capable of slicing any man's forehead wide open with a well timed slash. Alexis stands there, watching him. He notices her, but it doesn't stop him from his continued onslaught on the bag.


How long have you been training?

What time is it?

7:30ish.

Two and a half hours.


Vega answers Alexis, all the while never taking his eyes off the heavy bag. He throws a right superman punch followed by a left knee, and then a right knee from the clinch. He shoves the bag away while landing a quick left jab, right straight combination and backing up. Vega's footwork is matching the swiftness of a featherweight boxer's, his strikes are landing with the force of a light heavyweight kick boxer. He smiles as he finally looks over towards Alexis.


What are you smiling about?


Vega clinches his fists as he looks down at them. He swings his left one behind him nailing a sudden swinging back fist on the heavy bag, followed by a right cross, then a spinning back elbow, and finally a pounding right knee to ,what would be, the body while again, quickly stepping away afterwards. He turns back towards Alexis.


I'm peaking, at just the right moment.


She seems confused.


Peaking?

In my training. I'm hitting my physical peak at the right time. The biggest match of my career is tomorrow.

Your career? Vega, you haven't even been wrestling for a year.

You're right. I've only been doing this for 10 months. I'm still considered a rookie. Yet, look at what I've done. 8 months ago I won the Mayhem Championship. In my short tenure I've become the longest reigning champion in the entire company. Every stronghold that every title holder had on their championships slowly began to loosen as the pressure mounted. Down fell Sam Smith. Down fell Rush. Down fell Showtime. I was the only constant throughout all of that. I was the only Champion who hasn't wavered recently. There is no greater champion in WZCW going into Kingdom Come V than me.


Alexis smiles as she approaches Vega. He begins to stretch out his neck while she speaks up.


So you're the best, huh?

I'm the best.

You know, he beat you.


Alexis laughs to herself, disregarding Vega's stern disapproving look.


Trust me. I know.

He's the first person to have beaten me in 8 months. There's no way I'll ever forget who Ace Stevens is. He ruined the greatest run this company had going. He ruined my winning streak... and now he wants to end my title reign.


Vega walks towards the white walls and looks down towards the hardwood floor. There lies his Mayhem Championship. He picks it up and holds it with both taped hands as he walks back towards Alexis.


When I first won the Mayhem Championship, I said I was going to make it the hardest title in the company to win. This past year, I've done just that. However, for as dominant as my reign has been... there has always been one asterisk attached to my glory. One footnote in history holding me back from being known as the greatest Mayhem Champion of all time... and that's the fact that I never beat Ace Stevens.

Why does that matter? You've literally beaten everybody else that they've put in front of you. You're undefeated when defending your title. Like you said, you're the best champion in the company.

The best champion right now. I want to be the best champion of all time. A wise man once said "To be the man, you've got to beat the man." Well, in the Mayhem Division, the man is the champion. Ace Stevens was the champion, and I never beat him.

How's it your fault that he got himself injured?

What can I say, Alexis? Sometimes we're just products of coincidence. Had he stayed healthy, then perhaps I could have beaten him 8 months ago for the strap legitimately and all of this could have been behind us. But the wrestling Gods didn't see fit for it to play out that way. Instead, they wanted to give me the grandest stage of them all to show the world who the New King of Mayhem is, and what the New Age of Mayhem in WZCW will look like. The Mayhem Title has gone from being a last minute match added to the card, to a coveted position to be in within the company. People actually give a damn about the Mayhem Division now. People are actually talking about the Mayhem Title Match at Kingdom Come. There have only been two Mayhem Champions this past year.

Ace Stevens vs Vega

Perhaps the most important Mayhem Title Match in the history of this company.

I need to win this match.


Vega stares down at his title belt, holding it tightly with both hands. Sweat falls from his face and down onto the championship as he shakes his head slowly.


I need to beat Ace Stevens.


What is it about this guy? I've never seen you obsess over beating somebody like this. You've lost matches before, and you've never reacted like this.

Haven't you seen him as of late? He's going through some kind of philosophical change in his life right now. See, Ace Stevens seems to want to represent the light. But me? I'm the darkness.

The darkness?

Baby, I'm pure evil.

I'm the part of Ace Stevens' soul that he's currently running away from. He's not like me. There aren't many people in this world that are capable of the things I've done.

And you're proud of that.


Alexis interjects with a disapproving tone.


Damn right I'm proud of it.

You think I wanna be like Ace Stevens?

You think I wanna be like one of them?

One of them?

Yeah, one of them, Alexis. The average, the masses, one of an infinite number of simple minded people that populate this earth. Don't you understand? I am the 1%. I am what the world envies. I am what the world hates. The difference between myself, and the 99% is that I have the beautifully successful combination of a lack of morality and an abundance of intelligence to prosper off of the all of them. In fact, I grow so bored of it that I even benefit from my fellow one percenters. My soul is as black as they come, Alexis. People like Ace Stevens sicken me.

So this is you going on some type of anti-morality crusade. Is that it? Because that's what it sounds like.

What's with the tone? You have an issue with what I'm saying?

It's just that first you say it's about being the greatest Mayhem Champion of all time, and now it's about showing the world that being a good and righteous person is a stupid way to live. I'm just wondering which is it.

It's both, Alexis.

That's the beauty if it all, Alexis...

it's both.


Alexis looks off to the side, displeased with Vega's response. He holds his title with one hand now, letting it hang off to the side as he addresses Alexis with a softer tone.


What's wrong?


She hesitates to answer. Alexis takes a deep breath before she looks up into Vega's eyes.


Two weeks ago... at the cemetery, when we visited your mother's grave... I saw a side of you I hadn't seen before.

What are you talking about? You've seen me shoot people right between the eyes without so much as blinking. The only thing I feel when I pull the trigger is recoil.

Treating people you don't know, or people you dislike, with no remorse is different. Two weeks ago you showed no respect at your mother's grave. You acted like she wasn't there.

Are you serious?


Alexis just looks back at Vega without a response.


She's DEAD!


She shakes her head disapprovingly.


The way you acted... you might as well pissed on her grave.

And what if I had? It's a plot of soil and grass covering casket six feet deep. Inside that casket it nothing but a rotten corpse, and on the ground level a damn tombstone to remind me what part of the lawn my mother's remains are fertilizing.

So you have no remorse over the actions you take against the people you love?

Only if they're living.

See? You're not a person who holds onto memories, Alexis. You're a person that lets memories hold onto you. The memory of my mother? The memory of her suicide? It would weaken a normal person. I don't let it take hold of me. If it takes a lack of compassion, a lack of morality to be the best version of myself I can be, then so be it.

And your conscience never plays a role in this?

Conscience?


A subdued laughter escaped from Vega as he shakes his head.


Conscience is non existent. Society has implemented this idea of a conscience as a form of self control. What is a "conscience" anyways? A little voice in your head that tells you what to do when there's no logical reason to do so? Society wants us to do good. Why? Most of the 1% has made peace with the fact that, if there is a heaven, they ain't gettin' in. Me? I'm fine with that... because I don't believe in heaven anyways.

The belief of heaven... the fear of hell... it's what controls the masses. Morality. It holds them back.

So a world without morality would be a more prosperous one?

Of course not. If everyone became a hunter... what would we feed on? Besides, like I said before... it takes a special combination of that and intelligence to capitalize in this world. Most people are fools.

You really don't care about her anymore...?


Vega slowly approaches Alexis.


Look... there was a time, long ago, when I did care. I was a kid when she killed herself. Of course I cared. I was just a young thief back then, but she brought out the good in me. She even made me be an alter boy over at St. Patrick's cathedral. I was really good at it, too... holding the cross as I walked down the aisle, bringing the bible to the priest... all that shit.

Eventually, I got wise to where the ushers put all of the donation money. It was only a matter of time that I ended up stealing months of donations from the church parishioners.

You stole from church as a kid?

You're surprised?

A little.


Vega shrugs, as if he is surprised at her reaction as well.


The ironic thing is, that money I stole from the church was the money I ended up using to give my mother a proper burial. My father was long gone... I paid for the grave site, I paid for the tombstone, I paid for the funeral service. And when the time came, I sat alone, in that church, as the priest presided over a funeral I arranged with their money.

My mother was a good person... but after the years of schizophrenia she suffered through, she lost every single friend she ever had. No relatives. No friends. No husband. Nothing to show for a life of good... except me... a thieving child. With tears in that church, I knew then and there I never wanted to feel that way again. I never wanted to end up the way she did.

You went through all that to give your mother the proper burial, the proper respect in death... but now?

Now? Now I believe it was just a waste of money.

Your mother's grave is was a waste of money?

Pretty much.

It means nothing to you?

I wouldn't care if it went up in flames.


Vega smiles as he walks passed Alexis.


Now if you excuse me, I've got a full day at the gym ahead of me today.


He continues out of the room and exits the scene. Alexis is left standing there, refusing to believe what Vega just told her. After a few moments of silence, the scene cuts to Vega walking into the kitchen. He opens the refrigerator to get some water, but pauses as he notices the open flame burning the pot of tea on the stove. He shakes his head as he turns the stove off.


Dammit, Alexis... you've gotta be careful. You almost started a fire!


We cut back to a stunned Alexis who still stands alone a couple of rooms away when she hears Vega's warning. Her eyebrows begin to furrow as a sinister smile creeps up across her face.


--------------------------------
New York City
Fourth Cavalry Cemetery
Saturday, July 27th. 9:30 PM
--------------------------------


Vega is frantically running through the cemetery, passing hundreds of graves along the way. The rhythmic sound of his feet pounding on the grass beneath him is interrupted by the feint sounds of liquid splashing. His eyes widen as he sees Alexis standing over his mother's grave. Piles of dirt surround her, as it's clear she's been digging this grave for a couple of hours by now. She stands there now, emptying out a canister of gasoline into the 6 foot deep whole. The sound of the gas splashing off the rotted wood makes Vega cringe as he approaches the site.


Alexis! What the fuck are you doing!?


She simply smiles as she continues to pour out the gasoline.


When I read the note you left at home I thought it was some kind of joke... but this is no joke. You've gone insane, Alexis!

If I'm going insane, Vega... then you've already been there for years.

Or so you say.

What are you talking about?

You say there is no point in being good... that there is no good in you. But I don't believe that. See, I'm looking at the man that turned his life upside down when he refused to carry out his orders to kill me. You spared my life, when you're entire adult life you had no problem prospering from anybody put in your path. If there isn't an ounce of good in you, then I should have just been another name on your hit list, Vega. But yet... here I stand.

Pouring gasoline into my mothers grave.


Alexis laughs as she tosses the empty canister 6 feet deep into the grave. She looks at her hands and realizes she got a good amount of gasoline spilled on herself as well. It seems to amuse her.


Yeah... exactly.

So consider this... a favor.


Alexis pulls out a Zippo lighter from her pocket and holds it up. Vega tenses up and speaks in a stern voice to her.


Alexis, don't do it.

You said it yourself...

Don't do it, Alexis!

You said you wouldn't care, Vega.



Alexis flips the lighter open. Immediately, Vega reaches for his waist and pulls out his gun.



ALEXIS!

PUT THE LIGHTER DOWN

OR I WILL KILL YOU!


Vega has his chrome .44 caliber Magnum Desert Eagle handgun aimed directly at his partner Alexis' head. The putrid smell of decayed, insect eaten flesh pungently blends in with the aroma of rotten bones, as both marinate in a pure gallon of spilled gasoline. Vega continues to take deadly aim at Alexis, who has the Zippo lighter in her right hand as she stands over his mother's grave site. Her hands and face are covered with soil and gasoline. A dirty shovel lies by her feet as she stands there, tauntingly holding the lighter in her hand.


What are you gonna do, Vega...

shoot me?


Right on cue, Vega cocks back the hammer and loads a bullet into the chamber. His eyes painfully stare down the barrel of the gun as he lines up his sights perfectly with her forehead. He stares her down, her eyes full of sorrow as she holds the high up in her hand... and with a quick flick of her thumb, Alexis strikes up a flame.


Fine, fine. You were telling me to drop the lighter, right?


A sinister smile comes across her face, toying with the notion of dropping the flame into the grave site drenched in gasoline. With a calm demeanor, Vega pleads one final time.


Alexis... please don't make me do this.


She laughs to herself once again.


I knew it.

Knew what?

There is an ounce of good in you.


Alexis flips the lighter shut, putting out the flame. She casually walks over to Vega, who lowers his gun and holds onto Alexis' hand. He leads her a couple of steps away from the grave site before looking into her eyes.


You couldn't let me do it, could you.

Nope. For two reasons.

Yeah? What are they?


Vega holds Alexis hands up to her own face.


First of all, you're covered in gasoline yourself. If you would have lit my mother's grave on fire, you would have caught fire yourself. I figured if I threatened to shoot you, you'd stop.


Alexis smiles at Vega.


Aww, you love me.


Vega shakes his head cracking half a smile as he places his Desert Eagle back on his waist.


And what was the second reason?

The second reason?


Vega opens up the hand that Alexis was holding the lighter in. He gently grabs the stainless steel lighter and curiously examines it for a few moments. He then flips it open, and flicks the wheel, causing a spark to fly, and a flame to ignite. Vega flashes a sinister smile towards Alexis before tossing the lighter right into his own mother's grave. Immediately, a wave of fire rises up from the ground and into the night sky. The grass nearby catches fire as well. The crackling noise of the burning casket six feet deep echoes within the sound of the flames furiously burning.


I wanted to do it myself.


His sickening smile grows wider. Vega doesn't even bother taking a second glance at the burning grave. Just as casually as he started the fire, he walks away from it. Alexis stares at the flames for a couple of moments, mystified almost. She stands there, speechless. Then, she turns her attention the opposite way and watches as Vega continues to walk away. Alexis finally tries to speak up.


I-, but...


Vega turns around, still smiling, and looks Alexis dead in the eyes, interjecting before she finds the words to say.


I thought I told you...

I'm pure evil, baby.


-Close-
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