Guest Starring Bryce
Date: December 19, 2009
Sydney gets an early Christmas present… Too bad he isn't wrapped.
"You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin'"
A Seedy Motel - NYC
After meeting with Sydney on Saturday, Morgana was giddy with glee when she had returned to work the following Monday. She'd wasted no time in researching one Bryce Wheaton, and along with all the past info, she'd come across his most recent arrest. For assault… On Sydney… Oh this is all too good to be true. It's as if someone placed a plump, cooked turkey right in front of her. She took down his current address, and she checked out his seedy hotel room while he was still in holding. It was only a matter of time before he was let out on bail, and she'd waited until just the right moment. She waits for him to leave, and slips into the room easily enough. She prepares the room, hanging plastic wrap everywhere, even on the bed. She shuts off all the lights and waits for her quarry to step into her trap.
Bryce had been out almost all day, more than long enough for the woman to lay her trap. It's perhaps a half an hour after the lights go out that a key rattles in the door. Slowly, as though the renter of the room was distracted by something, the door opens. It's plain to see why he's distracted, there's a woman attached to him at the hip and lip. She's dressed in street walking clothes, tight and tiny, much too much skin showing for this type of weather but it's a living. The two wrestle their way inside and Bryce begins to fumble for the lights. That is, until his hand hits a sheet of plastic.
Rearing back his head from the mouth of his lady of the night, he lets out a very loud "What the he-" He never finishes his sentence because as the lights flip on, he's faced with a room full of plastic.
His entertainment for the evening looks around somewhat startled and thinking it was a trap for her, pulls back from him. "What is this?!" she shrieks and attempts to make a hasty retreat.
Morgana smirks and looks to Bryce with a wide grin.. "Oh Bryce dear. You brought home a snack like you said… I prepped the room in case she got…. messy…" There.. that should scare the woman away for now. She can't kill the woman, no reason to, but she needs her to leave… She won't want to witness this.
The man is stunned, just standing there staring at Morgana. That is, until his prey tries to make her getaway. "Hey! I paid for an hour! You're going to give it to me!" He reaches for the departing woman and grips her hard by the arm. She lets off a shrill scream as he tightens his grip and pulls her back inside. Plastic or not, he was going to get his money's worth or a refund.
The street walker isn't ill prepared for a John that starts to get rough. Her nails function quite well as her hand flies up and they claw across the side of his face, forcing him to let go for an instant. Just enough time for her to make a speedy escape.
"God Da*& Bi&*@" He shouts and then turns his fury on the stranger in the room. One of his hands is cupped to his face as he strides quickly toward the waiting woman. "Who the hell are you? You just cost me fifty bucks!"
Morgana smiles widely. "Mr. Wheaton, I presume… I'm the last woman you're gonna touch.. You seem to like hitting women.. You're done.. As for your fifty dollars, well, it's a last minute donation before you're untimely demise." She stands. "Time for you to take a nap."
Bryce drops like a hot potato, the resounding clump as he hits the floor shakes the lamp on the nearby table. He's not a large man by any means, but the hotel isn't as well built as it should have been. And there he lays, fodder.
Morgana grins and goes to quick work. In the time she has left, she strips the body, placing him on the bed. He's bound across the chest and waist by a combination of plastic wrap and duct tape, a piece of duct tape over his mouth. The room is darkened and Morgana gets out her bag of kill tools. The duffel is opened, and a leather pouch is pulled out. Rolled out onto a nearby end-table, a wide array of implements is visible. A drill, some scalpels, a couple syringes, and 2 sets of blades that were sharpened after recently being bought from Randall's Pawn Shop. She pulls out an iPod and speaker system, and turns the lights down low. She turns on the iPod and a tune starts to play, softly.. The deep baritone of bill Medley fills the room…. 'You never close your eyes… anymore when I kiss… your lips…"
'And there's no tenderness… like before.. in your fingertips…'
The sound is enough to rouse the man from his stupor. When he wakes up, he's furious, furious and somewhat frightened. His features contort around the tape in anger as he tries to bject by yelling through the tape. "Mmmph!! MMM!!"
'…you're trying hard not to show it..'
"MMmmmm!!!" He's getting frantic now, now that he's seen her intruments and he begins to try to wriggle despite the restraints.
Morgana walks over and rips the tape off of Bryce's mouth unceremoniously. "Is there something you wanted to say, Mr. Wheaton?" She walks away and pulls the finishing piece. An 8x10 photo of Sydney, framed. She places it on a shelf within direct sight of Bryce, and then turns to him with a wide grin on her face.
"Oh!!! Damnit!!" Bryce shouts, he just might be trying to be heard over the music. Someone has to come and help him. Whatever he's done it certainly isn't enough to deserve this. "What the hell, lady? What is wrong with you?" Then he spies the photograph. His eyes widen. "SHE put you up to this?! Squidney?!" Bryce is flabbergasted to say the least. He didn't think she had it in her. "I didn't do it! Whatever she told you, she's lying!! I'm innocent!!"
Morgana raises her eyebrow.. "Her name…. is Sydney." For emphasis she places her hand on his forehead and slams it down…. on the bed.. Damn.. that would've been more dramatic if it were a table.. "And she didn't put me up to it… She can't put up much of anything." She leans over his face and whispers… "You made sure of that… She's in the hospital.. At least, I think she is.. Once I'm done with you I'll check on her. See… Sydney's something of a… friend-figure." She walks away, almost pacing, her hands waving in the air. "Typically, I don't deal with wife-beaters. if I did, I'd be a hell of alot more busy then I am… I'm making a grand exception in your case.." She rushes back over, her face mere inches from his.. "You should consider yourself lucky.. I'm not even gonna stuff you in a bag, like the others.."
"I never laid a hand on her!! You have to believe me!!" Stage 1, denial. "Whatever she told you, it's a lie! I never laid a hand on her! Ask her grandparents! She tripped and fell down the stairs!!" Bryce is frantic, it's an odd combination with the relaxing music. "Come on, lady, just… just let me explain!!"
Morgana smirks.. "I'm not an expert in anatomy, but… well, actually, I am… but you don't get handprints on your throat from falling down the stairs… So… try to explain.. I'll give you a sporting chance…" She walks over to the tools and runs her hands gently over each device, deciding on which one wants to be used..
Stage 2, anger. "You're friggin' crazy!! Let me go!!" Bryce bellows loudly, someone has to hear him. Even over the music, this place isn't that seedy that someone wouldn't listen to his distressed calls for help, would they? "Someone HELP!! There's a crazy B#&$% in here!!" The only reply he gets is a loud pounding from the adjacent room and an order to keep it down. "Jesus Christ!! Come on woman! I'll give you whatever you want!! Just… please…"
Morgana takes hold of one of the new blades she'd bought. It's about a good 6 inches long, a sharp point, and the blade's been polished and sharpened expertly. She walks over to Bryce. "One.. I AM crazy.. Never argued that point.. and Two… You are giving me what I want…" She makes her way to the head of the bed, looking down at the man. She raises her hand up, blade facing downward.
"Bring back…. that loving feeling…. whhhoooaa that loving feeling…"
A girlish giggle of delight escapes from her lips as the blade comes crashing down.
Snap To Black
Fade in: Morgana driving her car on a snowy Saturday night. She pulls up to a building, the sign hanging over the door reads: Urban Women's Shelter.