That Time At The Hotel (or You Don't Own Me) (iii)

[Emma Douglas]

Why would you swipe Raven MacDemare's phone like that? Questions people were asking, most definitely. The truth is easy, she's a millennial beauty vlogger, her entire life and livelihood is probably stored in that little device, and Emma wanted a chance to take a peek behind the curtain, so to speak. To get into the little diva's head just a little bit. She knew that Raven was likely to have the phone killed by the company soon, so Emma had to make haste if she wanted to get what she desired.

Emma steps into her shared hotel room, dropping a bag and a couple other things off at the door as walks through the front door. She yanks off the hoodie she was wearing and pulls out the cell phone from its little pocket, leaving the garment in a pile. Emma Dee then sets down on the corner of the small bed and starts pushing at buttons on the phone. A few minutes go by and she starts to growl and pushes those buttons with a bit more earnest. A few more minutes go by and she just flings that device across the room with a lazy little toss, realizing that her little transgression was likely all for naught there. From there, Emma leans back on her arms as she takes in the scene around her, the quiet somewhat disheveled hotel room around her. Her own stuff tucked nicely away in the corner. She smiles a bit, having pertook in some of the destruction of it herself. The glass and purple petals had been cleaned up by someone else, but the stains among the wall and bed were still deeply soaked in. It made Emma just start to think back on how she got to this point.

What lead her to where she is now, in the main event of a card against her Archer.

For the last five or so years, they had been connected at the hip. Even if they weren't at the same company at the same time, one was usually around the other. That time they spent together in Columbus, Ohio, that lit the spark and set forth their little campaign of blood and violence. Those other around of various indies, even making a stop in Vegas, a place that wasn't so much to Archer's liking. That time in Nashville they tried to go at it together there, but Emma seemed to excel more on her own then. It all came rushing back to her and it made her lips curl in a confident little smile. The bodies, the screams, the bloodletting they had partaken in. She relished in it. So, if there was anyone whom knew her so well, it was Archer. But that being said, she knew him just as well.

She knew about his family and his issues with them. She knew about his own anger issues and just what buttons to push to get a desired result, not that she needed to do that often. And more importantly, she knew about his little briefcase that was likely hidden under the bed, filled with the strengths and weakness of countless wrestlers they had come across. She knew how analytical Archer could be with his anger and his violence. And it made her love him more for it. She wasn't like that, she was a visceral force of nature when she let loose. So they keep each other in check. Ying for Yang. They just clicked, in their own demented way.

Spencer, Spencer, Spencer. I love you to death. And I would walk into hell barefoot for you. You know this. And you don't try to change me. I admire you for that, you let me be me. We will work this little predicament we're in to our favor. You and Raven versus Blake and I? Temporary alliances, don't turn your back on them. We all know this. But once that final bell rings, I'll be right there with you, shoulder to shoulder.

She lets out a little bit of a sigh, her fist clenching in front of her, looking a bit antsy. She glares over at the phone she chunked away from her and heaves herself up and walks over to pick up the slightly damaged phone. From there, she begins punching a few buttons, a devlish little smile on her face.

LB, You Know Who. You Want To Get A Lil of That Fight Out? Meet Me At Pier 39.