Quoted By:
TICK. TOCK. TICK. TOCK
Holly stares glumly at the clock on the boarding house wall. She was out of money, and the revelation about Priscilla's involvement with the Dojo had meant that crashing on one of the beds there was no longer an option. The magazines had made her financial investment in the facility all-too-well-known. No doubt she'd have some lackey do something to mess with her lead opponent at the coming paperview.
The boarding house was small, and rather rundown, but it had been cheap and the staff discreet. No doubt the clientele wanted their shit done quietly and the staff knew that. Holly had done her best to avoid any of the hostels with ties to the Irish or to the Nords. Paranoia was starting to become her.
Derr Uberhausen was allegedly owned by Germans, but had been funded by a suspicious amount of Austrian money by way of Swiss bank accounts. Holly hadn't asked questions and had paid for her room with cash. Come post-PPV payout, she'd be able to afford an apartment. That much was certain. Semi-main event, a named participant, she was on the fucking posters.
A few weeks ago it would have been a dream come true. Instead, she felt nothing but anger and frustration with the circumstances. It had all gone so terribly fucking wrong.
The match was a few days out, and she didn't even have a full team. Her few allies were off playing superhero and cutting sushi-themed promos, she had been accused of being a Nazi, and was now at a hostel almost certainly funded by some shady WW2 gold.
And she was still down an ally.
TICK. TOCK. TICK. TOCK.
Holly grimaced and stared at her new phone.
She picked it up and dialed a number.
>...
>...
>Yeah, look, sorry for sending Mick to crash with you. I uh-
>I need your help...
She cringes and scrunches up her eyes
>To take down a bigger villain than I...