Safety Not Guarenteed
"You got this kid - only four more!"
Jaclyn Pierrot looks down the stairs. The sweat trickles along the corner of her brow. She has traded in her patented dress and boot combo for a matching pair of grey sweats and sneakers.
"Come on, ya bum!" Bunny gnaws on the tip of a cigar. He wears a matching sweat suit with a black beanie, tucking his ears low down his back.
Eye of the Tiger!
She begins her descent.
You got this!
One step at a time, Jacky makes her way down the stairs. She can feel the rush of the world, screaming in fear of her might, her beauty, her-
"What the fuck are you doing?"
She stops and looks over. Pisces is standing with the screen door open, her disdain barely masking her disgust. Jacky looks down at the corpse doll, Bunny. She has jammed a carrot into its mouth and laid a pair of Tempest yard clothes neatly on top. Her outfit matches, the cloth spilling out over her small frame like a child wearing their parents clothing.
"Training?" Jacky offers a smile, but one snort from Pisces redirects it into a frown.
If you wanna be his lover…
"And what's he doing out here?"
She motions towards Morgan Freeman who sits on a rocking chair with a plate of food in his lap. He looks up.
"Narrating?"
They both turn back to him. He sets his utensils down and clears his throat.
(VO) Morgan Freeman as Dead Rabbit
Jacky pushed herself to her limits. Nothing would stand in her way.
"Rather generic," Jacky says, suddenly disappointed. He shrugs and turns back to his food. She sighs, but manages to smile brightly once more."We should go out tonight and celebrate! There's this winery in Brown County..."
"Oh, fantastic, I'll get my coat!" Morgan starts to rise, but another conjoined stare returns him to his meal, chewing loudly on the reheated steak. Pisces shakes her head at the clown.
"No, that's dumb," she turns back towards the farm, whipping the screen door open. She sneers over at Jacky, "I don't think you get us."
The door snaps shut.
"What a bitch." Jacky's hair flips as she spins her head around to the actor, a look of shock on her face. He holds his hands up, "Sorry."
(VO) Morgan Freeman as Dead Rabbit
What a bitch.
Jacky tosses a thumbs up his way and returns to the top of the stairs.
"Come on, ya bum!"
"Have you seen Jacky?"
Pisces sips on a mug that looks to have been meticulously glued together. There is the faint resemblance of Garfield the cat and the words, ‘I Hate Mondays’ can be made out through the cracks. She leans back into the counter, smiling up at Tempest. Her eyes flutter.
"I'm right here."
"That's why I'm asking you."
She scowls, setting the cup down.
"She's 'training'"
"How is she doing?"
Pisces motions to the window behind her. Jacky has changed into a matching pair of pink sweats. The hood is pulled over her head and she runs just in front of Kosner. Kosner, meanwhile, has taken residence on the back of a single speed bike. He is hunched over it as he methodically follows just behind.
"She's changed outfits twice and I think that's where most of the effort has been. That and convincing Daedalus to get Kosner to ride that bike."
Tempest smiles to himself, watching her cross by the window once more. He picks up his grey sweats from the table. His smile turns to a chuckle and a full blown laugh.
"I don't get it."
"She's montaging," he moves beside Pisces. His hands clasp behind his back. Tempest watches with a smile as the little doll continues to chatter and chirp while Kosner chases. His little doll.
“For who?”
“Herself,” he says and his voice resounds with pride. Pride and something more.
"She's never serious about anything," she counters, "Does she really fit in here?"
For the first time, Tempest gaze turns to her. His eyes are cold as they glance between hers. He turns back to the window.
"She fits in here quite well. This is all a game to her. Look at that smile," he says, he motions towards the window. Pisces looks out to see Jacky turn and get run over by Kosner. Her eyes meet Tempest, but that focus is undercut by Kosner circling back around to the clown who tries to get back up, only for him to run her back over.
“She has fun and doesn’t focus on frivolity. It’s beautiful.”
"That makes sense." She concedes, though not to his intended meaning as evidenced by the rolling of her eyes. Outside, Jaclyn has risen to her feet, kicked the bike over, and shoves Kosner. He stands firm, however, and the clown's efforts only move her backwards. Daedalus can be seen running towards them as she begins shrieking in the massive man’s face. The monstrous hand clenches shut.
"You don't like her?" He asks, more a statement than a question. Pisces holds her hand up in surrender, unable to hold back her smirk any longer.
Finally fed up with the flailing of the fool, the mighty Kosner brings a hand down hard onto her head. She bounces hard off the dirt, a cloud following her as she springs back up, gun in hand.
"No, not at all," Pisces says with double meaning once again. The 44 magnum goes off. Tempest's head turns to see the clown's wrist caught in Kosner's hand. He lifts her from the ground. She fires again, kicking at his face. Daedalus grabs hold of the tree-like arm of the beast, his voice shouting for the Cross Hemisphere champion.
"Shit." Tempest bursts through the door, running towards the mountain of a man. Jacky now has her legs wrapped firmly around his neck, the dagger Pagliacci flashing to life in her free hand. Tempest is able to stop her from using it and a few assorted Creeps drop their supplies to try and help separate the two.
Pisces leans into the counter, smiling to herself as the pair of pugilists drag more and more appendages into the fray. Her hand tips the cup into the bin beside her with a crunch.
"She's a hoot.”
"A wine tour?" Daedalus asks skeptically.
The group sits around the kitchen table, each one nursing a fresh wound from the impromptu brawl. Kosner stands by the back door, his focus on the staircase where the sound of a shower running can be heard. His powerful arms are locked firmly across his chest.
"Yep! Jacky insisted we all go. To celebrate!"
"That could be fun..."
"You know I heard they have a marvelous Pinot-" the group turns to the living room where Morgan Freeman lounges on the couch. He mutters to himself, his attention back on the TV guide as he flips through the channels.
"Whatever Jacky wants right?" mocks Pisces, placing just the right amount of venom on the clown's name. Tempest frowns.
"Yes."
"Wait-"
"Jacky always has something up her sleeve!"
Tempest nods over to the magician.
"It's a wine tour!" Pisces protests, however, her complaints fall on dead ears. Her plot to drag Jaclyn’s idea through the mud backfired in her face. Her voice is drowned out as the room comes alive. Kosner throws the door beside him open, the truck roaring to life a moment later. Jordana moves towards the room she and Montague share. Creeps shift from each corner of the small farmhouse, gathering their gear for the trip.
"What the fuck just happened?" she scowls. A man in all red bumps into her and she begins to complain. She pulls herself free of the fold as the living room undulates with underlings. Tempest stands beside Montague. The Lords of Salem in the Season of the Witch.
Pisces storms up the stairs just as Jaclyn steps from the shower. Her face is unchanged, the same pale clown face all except for her ears. They, like the rest of her normally pale skin, are bright red. Her neck shows large bruises from where it was previously held by Kosner. Steam billows from the half-cracked door behind her.
Jacky clutches the towel to her chest as she leans over the banister. "What's going on?"
Pisces doesn't say a word. She sees her chance and makes her move. Methodical. Driven. Jacky leans further over the railing.
Little push…
A hard boot bangs into the back of the clown-faced woman and she crashes through the table below. The room stops. The Lords and vessels turn their attention from the broken clown upwards. Pisces spreads her arms wide as they kneel and begin to chant, "Pisces...Pisces...Pisces…"
"Pisces!" She blinks her eyes and is greeted with Jacky waving her hand in her face. She frowns, still considering making her daydream come true.
"What?"
"Where is everyone going?" The groups below begin to push their way towards the door. Pisces smiles as a new plan emerges.
"We are going to celebrate, like you wanted!"
“Wine?” Pisces nods. Jacky squeals, clutching at her arm to help contain the excitement. The hand is promptly swatted away.
"Tempest said to get dressed. He’ll wait for you."
The jester, for perhaps the first time ever, is speechless. She wraps her arms around Pisces, forgetting it was her grip that had secured the towel. Pisces looks down.
"Jacky!"
Not even bothering to retrieve the dropped cloth, the clown rushes towards their room. The door slams shut and the indistinct sounds of an electric guitar follows.
"Jacky, you ready?" Pisces takes one last look at the door before bouncing down the steps.
"She said she'd catch up!" She lies as her arm latches around Tempest’s. He continues to look up the stairs as Pisces pulls him along reluctantly, "Can I ride with you?"
One by one, the vehicles clear the farm's dirt lot. The roar of the Ecto-1 can be heard by anyone not furiously picking out their best outfit for their favorite person. The Pointer Sisters blare on the stereo, Jacky screaming along.
"I'm so excited!"
A pile of clothing builds up as she models outfit after outfit for Bunny. He sits silently on the bed, staring into space. After filling the floor, she finally fishes back out a white, knee-length dress. Matching it with a pair of green cowboy boots, she sits in front of a vanity she has set up on the floor. Jaclyn looks at the clown staring back at her in the mirror, her smile dropping. Her hand runs across the painted smile, but the paint doesn't move.
There is a knocking in the distance. She flips through a few items on the floor, finally settling on lifting her lashes and running a stick of chapstick across her lips.
The knocking grows louder.
"Someone get that!" She shouts. She unpins on the side of her pigtails.
Up and back?
She pulls the side backwards. Another knock at the door. Jaclyn shoves herself to her feet. Hair still held in one hand, she pulls the door wide. She steps into the hallway and stops.
"Hello?"
Silence.
“Tempest?”
She walks back into the room, looking at the lot - only the #3 Escalade remains. She rushed down the hallway, stopping in front of a mirror. One side of her hair loose and a white dress and green cowboy boots?
No wonder he left - they always do.
She sighs. More knocking. Jacky wipes her eye and a voice can be heard through the door.
"Hello?"
Jacky pulls the portal wide open, startling the woman behind it. She fumbles with her bag before shoving her horn-rimmed glasses back up onto her nose.
"I'm sorry," she stammers. Jacky leans into the doorframe, looking her over. The woman does her best to set a smile onto her face. She confidently extends out a business card, "Marcy Stephenson! I'm your Avon Lady. Looks like I came just in the nick of time, huh?"
She does her best to laugh, stopping once she sees those golden orbs burning a hole into the back of her head. A grin crests the corner of Jacky's lip and she chuckles.
"Yeah," the .44 magnum replaces the business card in the space between them. She shoves the door open, stepping aside. "Just in time."
Marcy swallows deeply and steps inside. The door shuts behind her.
"I can't see without my glasses!"
Jaclyn Pierrot sits in front of the older model box television where GoGo Dodo hands Babs Bunny a glass of water. She has emptied the bag onto the ground and sits cross legged in front of the bounty. Marcy does her best to keep her eyes on the screen, but inevitably they always land right back on that gun.
"What's this?" Jacky squeezes together a small device with a rubber handle.
"It's for your lashes."
She takes a tug from a large Gatorade bottle filled with gasoline. Marcy had watched as she siphoned it right out of her powder pink Avon branded Escalade.
"I'll have my own wine tour!" she had screamed before setting it on fire. Her baby. Her car. Her only way out.
Jacky looks the eyelash curler over, leaning into a black compact to see. After a few seconds of adjusting and contorting, she clamps it shut on her lash.
"Like this?"
Marcy looks her over. She can see immediately the lash curler was upside down. Her eyes passing over the weapon, she hesitates for a moment before blurting out: "It's upside down!"
The clown tosses it aside, her left lash drooping just a bit. She frowns, turning the bottle back up before tossing the empty container aside. Marcy swallows as the gun is picked back up, Jaclyn Pierrot standing above her. She glanced at the door. Too far.
"Great timing," Jacky honks her high-pitched laugh. The gun swings up, face-to-face with the screaming Marcy. There is a knock on the door. Jaclyn turns to the door and then back to the screaming woman. She nods her head, clearly impressed."Great timing!"
Another knock.
"Wait right here!" The weapon collides with Marcy's skull, rendering her unconscious.
Almost skipping, the clown bounds towards the door, pulling it open wide. A man of the cloth stands on the other side. One hand clutches a well-worn Bible and a small stack of pamphlets while the other is poised to knock. He starts to look past her to the terrified saleswoman, but Jacky pulls the door shut behind her. She leans back into it, smiling up at him.
"Hiya, preach!"
"Is everything alright? I saw some smoke." She tilts her head quizzically to the side, pursing her lips in confusion."There was screaming."
"Oh, that?" She laughs."That was the television!"
Unconvinced, he points towards the farmhouse. He stammers a bit as he speaks: "That woman looked unconscious!"
"Noooo," Jacky laughs, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. She begins to guide him back towards his navy blue Ford Freestyle."She's a drinker."
"I really ought to check on her," he argues. Something about the smell of funnel cake and gasoline didn't convince him. She pulls at the handle of the door.
Locked.
"I think she may have hit her head." He is met with forced laughter. Jacky shakes her head, her hands now attempting to pat at his pockets. He pulls away, his cell phone now in his hand.
"She's fine…" she tries one more time. He holds the phone up, unable to get a signal. Sunlight glints off the pistol, now once again in her hand. The farmhouse door flies open.
"Heeeeeelp!!!!" Marcy shrieks, heading straight for the car. The man stops searching for a signal and starts towards her. His momentum is quickly halted as the large .44 Magnum crashes down against the base of his skull. Marcy stops, tears pouring from her face as she is greeted once more by the gun.
"Wanna give me a hand?" She asks, fishing the Ford's keys free. It unlocks with a chirp. Marcy's shoulder sinks as she moves towards the man, but Jacky, now standing at the open trunk, waves her over. She has a hose and a large, red canister in her hand. "Well, you may have to use your mouth."
She giggles as she slides the tube into the gas tank.
Marcy runs her hand across her lips. She can still taste the acrid, rich taste of the gasoline in the back of her throat. She looks around herself for something, anything, to get rid of the taste. The clown hums a tune as she tops off the limited edition Scooby Doo Mystery Machine mug she fished from the preacher's car. Before setting it on fire, of course. There was a loud explosion behind the farmhouse as the Ford met the same fate as Marcy's Escalade.
"What…"
The man pushes himself up slowly. His eyes clench shut and he grunts in pain, shielding himself from the light. Early stages of a concussion.
"Hey there!" He forces one eye open. Jacky sits across the room in a rocking chair, swaying forward and back. She drinks from a familiar cup.
Was that in my car?
The woman he saw earlier meets his eyes for a moment before they turn to the floor.
Shame?
As the clown continues, Marcy's hand moves to her mouth. It trembles.
Defeat.
"You doing okay, Pete?" He freezes. How did she know his name? He forces the other eye open, looking around the room. His wallet sits on the table, open. His license, his credit cards, his Triple A card.
My family!
Panic sets it and he begins to rise, but the massive gun held between her hands forces him to drop back down. Marcy begins to sob quietly.
"Listen, I know you're not an evil person…" he begins to reason. A round goes off and a picture explodes on the counter behind him.
"Oh shut up." She slurps at the straw once more."You don't know shit about me and mine."
The smoking gun dangles over her knee and she smiles aggressively over towards Pete. He looks to Marcy for help, but she is lost somewhere in herself. He takes a breath and tries once more.
"We won't tell anyone anything." He gestures towards her, hopefully."We haven't even seen your face!"
She finishes the drink and continues to slurp. Pete, confused, sits back. After another moment, she sets the mug down.
"Well I wouldn't want that now, would I?" She shoves herself to her feet, stumbling a bit before aiming the gun, "After all, I've got a bad reputation to think about."
"Jesus Christ," he mutters.
"Father!" Jaclyn's gasps, shocked.
"What do you want from us?!" Marcy finally shrieks. The gun turns her back into a trembling mess, much to the amusement of the clown.
"Friends! Conversation!" She holds an imaginary glass up, disappointed, "To celebrate with the man I love."
Her mood drops and she eyes the canister. The two exchange a glance. Pete licks his lips before he begins.
"I can be your friend, my child," he offers, patting beside him. She settles in. "Let's talk."
His hand reaches out, hesitantly.
"How do I begin?"
"Wherever you want," his hand touches her shoulder. Her head drops and she nods her head. Her shoulders begin to gently bounce.
Is she crying?
"It's okay, my child." He pats her arm, running his hand up and down her tricep. She stops moving, watching his hand silently. Her eyes turn up to him, wide golden plates. He couldn't help notice she smelled like licorice. Licorice and gasoline.
"Forgive me, Daddy. I've been a bad girl," she giggles. The gun is pressed against his throat and he withdraws his hand. "Save this confession shit for the red hats in hell, padre."
She stands up and staggers between them. The weapon flips in her hand dangerously as she paces.
"You two wanna be my friends?"
"Sure yeah." He says, unsure of where this is headed. Jaclyn pulls a large, leather and gold cummerbund off the cabinet.
"You know what this is?"
She drops it on the floor between them.
"It's some sort of belt."
"It's a championship belt. I'm a champion, you know?" The two silently share another look. "Yeah my friends don't seem to care either. They went out to celebrate without me.”
The hammer is pulled back on the gun.
"No, we care!"
"Yeah? You know how I got this belt, father?" He shakes his head. "I hurt people. Do I look like the type of person who could hurt someone?"
Her attention turns to Marcy. She staggers towards her. The saleswoman shakes her head, "You're pretty."
"Maybe she's born with it?" Marcy attempts, laughing nervously, but Jaclyn doesn't share in.
"Or maybe it's for sale?"
"Well…" the missionary shakes his head behind her as Jacky approaches, waving the .44. She licks her finger, smearing it across the woman’s cheek, forming a crossroad with the trail her tears have left behind.
"What else comes with that price? Beauty. Popularity?" she sneers in a mocking tone, "Friendship."
"Yes?"
The clowns' knuckles turn white as she grips the hilt.
"Maybe I'm a panda," Jacky says, dropping her chin into her hand.
"Cause of the make-up?" The Avon lady asks. The priest begins his prayer.
"No, Marcy," she hisses, clearing her throat.
"A panda walks into a bar," the clown emphasizes the word bar by tapping the gun against the pinned up mound of hair. Nancy jumps, her skin turning white in the tear stained streaks between the layers of advertised product.
"She gobbles some beer nuts, then pulls out a pistol, fires it in the air," the blast of the gun and rain of the debris elicits a scream but Jacky shouts over her, "and heads for the door."
She sticks the barrel into the offending orifice, causing Nancy to cease her calls. She jerks her head away, spitting onto the carpet. Jacky takes hold of her face with her hand, covering the mouth.
“'Hey!' shouts the bartender, but the panda yells back, 'I’m a panda. Google me!'"
The jester drops down onto her lap, the gun against her temple. "Sure enough, panda: 'A tree-climbing mammal with distinct black-and-white coloring. Eats shoots and leaves.'"
The hammer is slowly pulled back once more into ready and the prayers grow louder.
"Hey Jacky, do we have any of those potatoes le-" The group turns to see Morgan Freeman standing at the door to the basement. He once again has a plate of food in his hand. The actor holds up the other: "Oh my. You know what? I'm not here!"
He takes hold of the door to the basement and slowly closes it behind him. Nancy and Phillip turn back to Jacky whose smile once again envelops her face.
There is a knock on the door.
"Talk about your timing!" She sighs loudly, rushing towards the pounding. She pulls the door open a crack.
"Yep?"
"Hi I'm Jeff, I'm with the census bureau. We were trying to get a pitcher of how many-" he stops, pointing past her, "Did you know there's two cars on fire out back?" Jacky let's the door swing open and he stops speaking as he sees the scene before him. Marcy sobbing for help and Pete praying away on the couch.
"A priest, a sales person, and a government agent all walked into the farm." Jacky turns to the group, then back to him. The gun flashes in his direction.
“What is this, some kind of joke?”
Gilligan digs a hole on the screen while the skipper waves his hat around angrily. The three now sit on the sofa facing Jaclyn who is cross legged on the floor. She sips once again from the cup, flipping through her phone.
Jeff starts to speak, the two beside him shaking their heads. "What is it you want?"
Jacky looks up from the drink and squints one eye, then the other. She scowls, looking back down at the phone. The clown mumbles to herself.
"A salesperson, a priest, and a government agent."
"I don't have a lot of money." She continues to repeat the words, 'salesperson, priest, and government agent', swiping at the screen. He continues, "I can maybe call some people?"
Jacky tosses her head back, groaning audibly. "What's the joke?"
"Joke?" Jeff's face shoots back as her phone hits him directly in the nose. Her honking laugh fills the room. She points at him, trying her best to hold it back.
"You should have ducked!" Marcy tucks her arm around him. "That's it!"
Jacky leaps to her feet, only to stumble backwards. She crashes into a cabinet, glass raining down on her. Laughing, she rises from the mess. She dusts herself off, clearing her throat as she stumbles behind them.
“Three men walk into a bar, the rest of them are ducks.”
“Ducks?” asks Jeff.
Click.
“Duck!”
bang.
The bullet goes wide, the trio throwing themselves towards the ground. The force of the shot causes her to spin around and stumble into a bookshelf. Marcy moves first, rushing toward the door. More shots ring off as the clown wildly shoots after the fleeing pack.
The door opens. Marcy, face to face with the mighty Kosner, screams. Finally feeling too much all at once, she faints fast to the floor. Jeff manages to slide past only to catch a hard right from Tempest. The priest resigns his fate, as he kneels to the ground.
Jacky stumbles towards him, pulls the trigger, and then looks into the barrel of her empty gun. She squeezes the trigger again, scowling.
Click.
“Jacky?”
She looks up, smiling brightly. She swings her arms wide.
“Oh! Hey, baby!”
The momentum of her arms plus the copious amounts of gas cause her to stumble, slip, and crash through the coffee table. Before the room can react, there is a third explosion from the back.
The scene opens up to the Creeps gathered around a large mound of dirt. They are just at the edge of the small forest that crops the outskirts of the farm. Jaclyn Pierrot stands in the middle, Conquest Championship strapped across her waist. On either side, Tempest and Montague Cervantes stand, their respective belts on their shoulders.
“You should be.”
Creeps move and shuffle about in the tree line.
“You seem like the kind of guy who likes to find an advantage, hey, nothing wrong with that. After all, to subdue the enemy without fighting...by any means necessary, even if there's a bit of funny business. That's where I come into play, right?”
Jaclyn taps the side of her head, grinning as she speaks.
"See, I think you knew. I believe something inside you gave you an indication of what was coming and that's why you made your decision. After all: me, the violent demon doll," she gives an exaggerated eye roll, "versus the benevolent Angelica Vaughn. Simple math: Good versus evil. Clown vs clout. That's how you and the world see me, right? Simple. Violent. Well, violent by design or violent in nature, they're both the same thing unless you're alone with someone in a forest."
There is howling behind her from some of the Creeps, causing Tempest and Daedalus now to smile.
"That means I have a choice then, doesn't it? Do what's expected, and become just another pawn in an unappreciative king's court, crushing this compulsive cool kid or….” She taps on her chin , “two roads diverging in a wood and I? Violent in nature…will I take the road less travelled?”
The group begins to make growling noises.
“That’s a decision only you can make, Angelica. You see, you too have a choice: chase this,” she waves her hands in front of her midsection, “then chance that. With such an easy path ahead of you, ask yourself, Angie: is this worth it or is there more wisdom in walking away? See, I can’t fight what’s inside me, and I'm probably no better than what I am. Who can fight nature after all, but you? For this? Well, show up and it’s knuckle up, buttercup."
Jacky punches her palms menacingly.
"Take the easy way out. There's no shame in walking away. Saving your strength. The treasures in the trees? Just traps. A trick for you but a treat for me so, Angelica...if you or any of the other Cool Kids wanna take your turn for this, or this," Montague and Tempest both lift their belts around her, high into the air, as she gestures between them "or that well then you’re gonna learn. It’s blowtorch season, motherfuckers, and these trees are just a tinderbox."
One, then two, then a multitude of lighters begin to flick to life in the dusking night.
"They say repetition is the key to learning, so let me say it again slowly: you’re safe until you’re not. You can see it: I'm cursed to care about what happens to this, but should I be?" She pulls the key up from around her neck, still held in the Garfield pendant’s glistening hand. "Two roads diverged and I should say how sorry I am that I cannot take both, but then again: who’s gonna stop me?"
Jacky points at the camera.
"You?"
She shakes her head.
"Angie, these two paths may be diverging, but sooner or later they're gonna converge cause this road is a roundabout. Before you know it, you’re right back where you started, and while you batter and bruise yourself up I know...I know..."
She waves the key in front of the frame.
"There's an easy way out. Donovan made his choice, after all, better the angel you know than the demon you don't and I respect that decision. He is either a clever kitty or a cowardly lion, but at the end of the day, there's more than one way to skin a cat. Sometimes you just have to swing it into the tree a few times, to loosen up the pelt."
She giggles to herself, now excited. She bounces between the two taller men before continuing.
"Angelica, I wish you luck, but him or you? It's just delaying the inevitable. If you want your time here and now, well I can't promise you I'll leave much for later. Whether I conquer the kingdom, or use the key, the story always ends the same way we're just just circling the final stages. But this? Now?" She unfastens the belt, "This isn't for you: this is mine to keep."
"As I said, I too have two paths and I choose to take the one less travelled and not you, or Phrixus, or Pierce or anyone else they decide to set in my path will slow me down. I'm coming, Donovan, but I really hope when I knock on the gates to the fortress, it's Miss Vaughn that answers. That's a choice only you can make, though Angie."
Jaclyn Pierrot swings the belt between herself and the frame.
"I can promise though for now, this time, and for this title, at least, Angelina, there will be no funny business. I wouldn't want people to think I'm some sort of clown. Would I?"
The night air fills with howling and laughter as the group erupts in celebration, as the camera fades.
>
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