March 14, 2015: The Purge

(recorded and posted online at againsthewall.com without Nessa's knowledge)

It was taking her longer than expected to come into the room; he'd already texted her three minutes ago to come in. Evidently her workout was going quite well— she usually came to him as soon as he called. He had the whole thing already set up, a barrel in the middle of the room with a flame set up, all ready for what he has planned, as well as a camera setup behind a teddy bear he'd bought her, among other things, for Valentine's Day. His diabolical plan was in motion; all he needed was the lovely blonde.

Finally, she made her grand entrance with a bottle of water in hand, tilting it to her lips as she paused in the doorway. "Sorry," she said after taking a sip, "I was in the last few minutes of my cool-down. Didn't want to cut that short." Posing there, she looked over at the barrel, shaking her head with a laugh. "Oh my, you weren't kidding. Did you steal that from some homeless person?"

He tilted his head, pondering the question. "Steal is such a strong word, I prefer to call it temporarily misappropriated it from under a bridge, they won't miss it, it's nice and warm out there these days." Clearly making fun of the fact that it'd been a horrendously cold February in Canada. "It's quite appropriate, though, don't you think?"

"It is," she nodded, pushing off from the doorjamb to make her way over to him. Leaning over, she placed a kiss on his cheek, letting her hand linger on his shoulder. "And after we're finished with this purge... I'm sure we'll need to wash the filth off ourselves. I know a great way we can do that." She pulled back with a grin, knowing that he was powerless to resist the appeal of her in her yoga pants and matching sports bra.

He glanced over to her on his shoulder; he really was powerless to resist her feminine ways. "I'm sure that can be arranged, but this is serious business." He tried to hide a smirk as he said that, knowing that this must look ridiculous. "So you know how you always complain about Mika and her clinginess, right?" A simple question to get the ball rolling.

"God, yes." Nessa rolled her eyes, "and you think when she's rolling in championships that she'd have a little more self-confidence— apparently not. It legitimately drives me up the wall. Having to reassure her every day that we're still friends even though she's got her own schedule and I've got mine. It's not as though I follow FFW around the country when I'm busy working a VERY full schedule with SVW. I mean, it's not like we're both working for the same two companies. I have a completely different set of priorities than she does."

"Heh," was his first reaction. "Up the wall, I see what you did there." He pointed to the chair opposite him for her to sit. "I'll bet it can be quite exhausting dealing with her, almost like you have a child that you need to look after. There comes a time, though, when we need to move on from people like that, you know?"

"Absolutely," she nodded, "you're so right about that. She's an emotional vampire and I need to stop enabling her." Reaching down beside herself, she picked up a shoebox that looked to be filled with photographs.

Glancing over at her, he nodded to her words. "Emotional vampire, I like that. It's about time though that we drive that stake between you two and separate the Nessa from the Mika. Is that box everything you have?"

"There's a pair of shoes... but... I can't bring myself to throw them in there." She stared down into the box and then made her way over to the chair he'd pointed at, sitting down with a theatrical sigh. "You know how I feel about my shoes."

"Your shoes? What, like the sisterhood of the traveling pants, but with shoes? How does that work?" The actual notion was foreign to him, he didn't share his clothing with his friends, not that he really has friends, mind you, but if he did, they would certainly need their own attire.

"No, silly," she laughed, shaking her head, "they're a pair of Louboutins she bought me for my birthday last year. It'll be okay if I keep those, right?" She was actually looking at him for permission to hold back that one thing.

He looked at her for a moment, as if this was the hardest question he'd ever heard, or more specifically, he was playing up the question to make her nervous. "I suppose, if they mean that much to you, but one of these days you'll have to explain to me your relationship with your shoes."

"They're collectibles. You've had collections of things before, haven't you? I just..." she struggled to explain her obsession in words that made sense. "I should probably get rid of them too. Every time I wear them, I'll think of her and that's what we're trying to avoid, right?" She asked it more for her benefit than his, as if voicing it aloud could make it better. "I can't believe she was so selfish. She didn't even ask me if I was okay after losing the title. No. It was all about her and how she hurt herself and had to go to the hospital. All about her and her stupid 'Defiance Goes Red' bullshit like anybody even cares. She's got to be the center of attention in two companies? That seriously makes me ill—"

"If they're collectibles, why do you wear them?" The only collectible he'd ever heard of involved things that were meant to be in mint condition, something easier done when your feet aren't inside the item in question. "And I've been telling you for months she's selfish!" He exclaimed in mock-outrage. "She wouldn't even clean my apartment in a maid's outfit, how selfish is that?"

"Honestly, if she had agreed to do it, I probably would have tossed her off my balcony." The jealousy was fairly obvious as she looked at him before turning back to the shoe subject, "I guess maybe collectibles wasn't the right term. It's hard to explain but I like to have options and it all depends on my mood what I want to wear— they have to match, too."

"Not to get off topic here, but how many moods can you possibly have? I've seen your closets and the fact that that word is plural is scary enough. There has to be more to it than that, right?" At this point, he had forgotten about the point of this and was just fascinated by this newly uncovered obsession of hers.

"I'm short, Matthew," she said the words softly, looking embarrassed, "so yeah. I like heels. I like shoes and boots and platforms and wedges and everything that makes me taller. It started off as simple as that." She picked up the Louboutin box, taking the top off and staring down at the silver shoes inside.

"You're not that short," he started out, trying to sound reassuring. "That's not really the point Nessa, we have something else to take care of, don't we?" He asked, nodding his head to the shoebox full of pictures sitting on her lap, remembering the camera was still rolling.

"Right. Yes." She nodded and picked up a handful of photos, tossing them into the barrel. "Do you want to help?"

"Could I?" He asked, sounding slightly more enthusiastic that he probably should have. "That would be fine." He quickly added, trying to sound more nonchalant, watching the pictures burn that she tossed in already.

She took a handful of the photographs and then handed the rest of the box over to him. "It feels slightly more symbolic if you help— since we're a team and all." Her smile was almost gleefully sadistic as she started tossing in the photos in her lap one by one, watching each of them burn away slowly.

Matt glanced down at the box, seeing all the pictures that were left, looking at Nessa's smile before tossing them in the fire. "By fire be purged, Nessa." He tossed a few more pictures into the blaze, thinking over what she said. "So this is what passes as a romantic endeavour these days, eh?"

"Well, we're not really what passes as a traditional couple, are we?" She followed his lead, tossing another handful into the barrel. Now her eyes were fixed on him as the smoke rose up between them. "And this is plenty romantic... we're getting rid of the elephant in the room. The third wheel."

"Did you just compare Mika to an elephant?" He asked with a bemused smile on his face. "I don't know that I would go that far, but I see your point." He accentuated his point by tossing another picture onto the fire.

"We can't be happy unless she's gone," Nessa said firmly, sounding almost as if she was brainwashed, "I can't waste all my time feeling guilty that I'd rather be with you than her. At least Harmony understands how much you mean to me. Mika doesn't and she probably never will."

"We'll deal with that one another time, then." He said with a grin, though there was a ring of truth to that as well. "You have no reason to feel guilty about wanting to spend all of your time with me; I'm pretty amazing."

"You are," Nessa nodded, readily agreeing with the sentiment as she tossed in a few more photos followed by a small stuffed bear.

"Not to mention humble. Have you given any thought to what you want to do for your rematch with Misty?" He casually asked as he tossed in more pictures, watching them burn.

"No." The word came out flat, "I haven't even thought about it, to be honest."

"Well," he started, looking into her eyes. "I think it might be best if you won it on your own, without me there. Of course I'll be there to support you, but in order to get all these morons to see the true champion that you are, the champion that I see every day, we need to expose Misty for the paper champion that she is."

"You mean like I did against Trashley... without any games. Just a clean and decisive win. And then it will be you and I against— ugh," she made a face of disgust as she tossed the last of her photos into the fire, "Linda."

"Yeah, exactly. I know you can do it, everyone should know you can do it as well; I just hope you know you can. That's really all that matters." He added another Mika-Nessa picture to the fire, running out of them quickly.

Nessa on the other hand, went for the actual shoes in the box beside her, holding one up over the barrel. "I know I can, Matthew. I'm the best Pride Champion SVW has ever had." She let the shoe fall from her hand, watching as sparks flew up from the paper.

"You really are Nessa," He added as the shoe dropped in the barrel, quite an impressive display of firepower, literally.

Nessa watched the flames lick over the leather, blackening it before wrinkling her nose. "We probably should have opened a window or done this outside. It's getting a tad rank in here."

"I'd rather not draw a crowd of your nosy neighbours, actually." The sentence worked as a pun, too, but that wasn't deliberate.

She dropped the other and then stared into the flames, sighing. "Okay, those reek," she fanned a hand in front of her face, leaning back in her chair now that the acrid smoke was wafting in her face. Her nose twitched like Samantha's on Bewitched and then she sneezed, making the flames flicker even worse which ended up shooting more soot and ash into the air. She coughed, reeling back even as she sneezed a second time.

Matt's eyes widened a bit at Nessa's reaction to all the soot and smoke in the air, not expecting something quite so explosive. But as quick-witted as he was, he quickly thought of how to spin that for maximum effect. "You know what that is, Nessa?" He asked, not sure if she could even respond at this point.

She sputtered, blinking past the tears in her eyes. "No," she whispered, "what is it?"

"That's the evil spirit of Mika being expelled from your body: get it all out, the fire can't be hurt by her wicked ways." As he spoke, he dumped the remaining photos in the fire to remove any other signs of Mika in his possession.

She laughed, "I think I feel another one coming," she said, playing along with his absurd declaration as she watched the last of the mementoes tumble into the flames. Silent for a moment, she watched as the flames devoured the last of the blackened bits of shoes and photographs. Sniffling, her nose twitched again and as predicted, she could feel it coming. She couldn't hold it back— didn't want to, really— she let the epic sneeze rip for all it was worth. On the heels of that last expulsion, "this house," she intoned in a pretty spot on impression, "is clean!"

Cut to black.