BROSEPH STALIN? NO, THAT’S NOT IT…
After a revelationary message from Don Winters, the camera pans backstage where Eddie Cross is leaving the locker room in his faded jeans and olive drab GG shirt. As he turns from closing the door behind himself he nearly runs face first into Max Kael?’s personal enforcer, Violent Purple.
She takes the initiative and presses him against the wall, and Eddie, for his part, lets it happen without a struggle.
Eddie Cross: We have to quit running into one another like this, people are going to start talking.
Violent Purple narrows her eyes at Eddie’s face, studying it carefully before letting out a low sigh.
Violent Purple: We could probably stop running into each other like this if we just decided on a single place to intentionally run into each other. Don’t you agree?
Eddie looks back and forth. His haunting green eyes narrow… from a calculating smile.
Eddie Cross: You’re a lot more up front than the old lady you hang out with. Not in a bad way… but I gotta ask… what’s your game?
She cocks her head to the side before grunting. Violent steps back giving Eddie some space before she crosses her arms across her back.
Violent Purple: Couth has her uses, she just doesn’t usually have to deal with people face to face. You need to move money around? She’s a magician. Speaking of money, that’s the game you were asking about. I want to make money. Winners make money. Max Kael? is a personal investment of mine and his success is my success. But we know life can be a shitty turn, can’t it? Helps when there are people around that can make themselves useful. I’ve noticed you’ve hit a little turn around since UltraViolence. I’ve also noticed you’ve taken notice of my investment. Everything making sense so far, darling?
Eddie Cross: Funny, you talking like Max isn’t a person and instead he’s just a source of money.
The Samoan sizes up the fiery haired vixen.
Eddie Cross: My grams used to tell me about women like you. She called you The Mata o le Alelo… ‘Eyes of the Demon’. I admit I didn’t believe her at the time, but now that you’re standing in front of me… yeah, it makes perfect sense.
Violent rolls her tongue over her gums in thought as she ponders on what he just called her. The moment passes and an agreeable expression affixes itself on her pale face.
Violent Purple: I can live with Eyes of the Demon, Mister Cross. Edward? I like Edward. You know that Edward’s root words mean to guard and fortune? We’ll have to put that name to the test.
Eddie’s clearly calculating what to say next. He rubs his chin and points at her, smiling, but not because he is betraying his happiness, but because he seems to have figured out what to tell her.
Eddie Cross: You need to do a little more research to find out what my name actually means… But for now, you’re right, it seems like we are going to “intentionally” meet again, doesn’t it?
At that moment, a commotion draws their attention. Crash Jackson bursts into the scene accompanied with a cacophony of rattling cans and storage boxes.
Crash: Hey guy, I was just over there and couldn’t help but notice you two were talking kinda close and thought like maybe you needed a hand?
He motions to Violent Purple. Purple’s lip curls slightly and she holds her hands up, taking another step away from Eddie.
Crash: This one, she is dangerous! And I like danger.
Eddie looks at VP then at Crash then back and forth one more time.
Eddie Cross: Were you spying on us, bruh?
Crash looks incredulous.
Crash: Bro! Is it spying when you listen to what people are talking about from over there? C’mon, broski.
EC narrows his eyes and raises a brow.
Eddie Cross: Bruh.
Eddie Cross: Bruhsidon!
Eddie Cross: BARACK BRUHBAMA!?
Crash: Bilbro Baggins…
Eddie Cross: Wilford Bruhmley…
Eddie Cross: Bruh.
Violent Purple looks at both men as they bro-joust before shaking her head dismissively. She cast one sharp look at Eddie before turning to look Crash directly in the eyes.
Violent Purple: We’ll just see who we run into first next week I suppose. Bye for now..Brobies.
She turns and moves off leaving both men with their own thoughts. Crash watches her, nearly hypnotized as she walks away. Biting his lower lip with four million carnal thoughts running through his foggy mind, Crash turns back to EC after she is out of eyesight.
Crash: Dibs, dude. Dibs.
Crash nods slowly to confirm, in fact, he’s calling dibs on a lady who whooped his ass before.
Crash: Pretty sure she’s into me anyway so…
Eddie looks down the hall thoughtfully.
Eddie Cross: Bruh, I think she’s into both of us, but not in the way you’re thinking.
Crash holds his flat hand up with a neck swerve in complete objection. Eddie sighs and looks at Crash.
Eddie Cross: I mean that the way the story my grams tells goes, the demons in Samoa were known for taking offerings of whatever they want, and they didn’t always give in return. I think she isn’t done taking from us, and that makes me worried for Max.
Crash cocks his head and is now the one raising an eyebrow. This is a pretty common sign of uncertainty. He offers EC a shrug and grin.
Crash: Well… this tale sounds daunting and also very erotic. Whaddaya say we continue this chat over a bucket of the finest chicken around?
He motions his thumb toward catering.
Crash: I think the Colonel’s got a bucket waiting for us.
EC changes his demeanor, smiles, and nods appreciating the offer.
Eddie Cross: Sure, lead the way.
As they make their way down the hall chatting with one another, the scene turns to the next match of the evening.