All Pretender's Eve by JayVitolo
Disclaimer: I don't own the rights; I'm just borrowing the characters. Please don't sue.I'm poor.
Notes: I'm taking a break from Omega Web for the time being. My thanks go out to Ruby Trinity for helping me come up with half the costumes. Without her, the characters wouldn't make much sense and they costumes wouldn't be a play on the people.
And Begin! Credit for this phrase goes to Shane Helms of the WWE.
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Its time for the annual Centre costume party. It's a day where differences are set aside and everybody just enjoys themselves. Dreams come true and nightmares are realized. For some, their wildest imaginations take over. Others experience what makes their hearts turn black.
The main lobby of the Centre has been converted into the main festive area. A working bar is in the corner next to a tank filled with apples floating on water. Curiously, all of the Centre employees are split into their own factions.
The sweepers are together, some of them seemed to not get the costume memo, they have shown up in the usual suit and tie that their job dictates. Miss Parker just arrived as has started to look around; many of the people in this party have stopped talking and started to at her.
One brave sweeper musters the courage to walk up to her. "Hello, Miss Parker." He looks at her costume and cracks a smile. "What are you supposed to be?"
Every year she gets that question and every year she gets sick of it. Why does she keep coming to these things?
"What the hell do you think I'm supposed to be?" She notices the sweeper is not responding so she continues. "I'm an Angel damn it. Why else would I wear wings and this stupid halo thing?"
"But I didn't know Angels wore black leather." The response earns the sweeper a shot to the face.
Parker's response is subtle but conveys the same answer she would've voiced. "Kiss my ass sweeper boy," the renegade thought travels her head at warp speed. What she saw next will stay burned in her mind for the rest of her natural life, maybe the dead version too.
She sees a neon green hat in the corner with a big yellow feather sticking out of the brim. The suit looks to be a neon green crushed velvet with matching bellbottom pants. The costume alone had to be a sin against nature, and then the wearing turned around. Her heart stopped mid-beat as the person walked up to her, gold cane in hand.
"Hey Miss Parker." He slips into character. "How's it hanging sweetcakes?"
"B, B, Broots?" She can't believe her eyes. This must be a dream, it has to be. There is no other explanation than she drank some bad Scotch before she fell asleep. That has to be it.
But the cold truth is in front of her, smiling a big dopey smile, running his hands up and down the leopard print trim of his suit coat. Her eyes fall onto the neon yellow shirt that is missing the top two buttons, then they trace up to the ten pounds of fake gold are his neck.
"Is that you?" She still can't believe it. She can't even blink.
"I like your costume." Broots continues to smile as he notices Parker can't stop staring. "I'm guessing you're some sort of angel, a 'Fallen Angel'?"
"Wha, what?" She shakes her head and looks back at him. Still no use, she can't get past this surprise. "I, I'm j, just an a, angel."
"What kind of angel wears black leather?" Broots continues to push buttons. He can get away with it now, but he realizes tomorrow will be hell.
Broots looks over her shoulder and smiles even bigger as Sydney walks into the room. Broots glances back at Miss Parker and winks as he walks past her. He forgets how long the feather is and ends up hitting Parker in the face with the tip of it causing her to sneeze.
She turns around to stare into the face of a clown. Her heart starts up again but at a quickened pace. Feels like 25 beats a minute as it threatens to jump from her chest and go screaming down the hallway. The clown takes full advantage of the moment and squirts her in the face with his "water flower". She wipes the water from her face and replaces it with a look of extreme anger.
"You must want to die today funboy." The anger is apparent as she growls her remark.
"Not anymore than yesterday, Parker." He squeezes his nose releasing a small honk.
"Sydney?" The shots keep coming. She glances at the polka dot jumpsuit Sydney is wearing and then looks at his white face. Sydney's grin is unmistakable, but the painted frown and tear really gets to her.
Sydney puts an arm around her as Broots stands beside her. Her eyes once again fall onto Broots; she can't get past his costume. Broots, the techie nerd, dressed as a pimp. Never in her wildest dreams would she see this again.
The groups start to walk forward as Sydney begins to talk. "You know Parker, the costume a person wears tells a lot about them as a person. To the viewer, the costume represents the wearer's actual personality. It's a proven," he trails off as he notices Miss Parker doesn't seem to be paying attention.
He turns around to see that she and Broots have come to a full stop, staring behind him. They are both wide-eyed and their jaws are hanging wide open, hardly breathing. Almost dreading what he'll see, he goes against his better judgment and turns around. He is greeted by the haunting image of Mr. Raines standing in front of him wearing nothing but a leopard print Speedo. Sydney almost has a stroke.
"Me, Tarzan." The former doctor wheezes to the three standing before him. After a small grin, he leaves with his oxygen tank in tow behind him.
Broots starts to suffer from a panic attack as he remembers the dream from Las Vegas. The last image he saw in that dream was Mr. Raines dressed the exact same way; only his name was 'Mr. Wiggles'.
Miss Parker, perhaps the most observant yet the most scarred of the group, makes the only comment for the short time they stood still. She looks back at Sydney with an almost revolted expression. "How do you explain that one, Freud?"
"I, I, I." Sydney's eyes don't leave the direction the former doctor went as he falls speechless.
Broots tries to get rid of the image, but fails. "Did he dress his tank like a monkey?"
His gaze meets Miss Parker's as she tries not to throw up. "Oh god. I need a drink."
The group makes it to the bar as Broots takes his hat off. Parker can't seem to avoid the feather, so she angrily throws the hat on the ground. "This has got to be hell." She picks up her glass of Scotch and drains it. "I don't know how much more I can take."
"Then don't turn around." Broots is already staring at the door and his voice seems cold.
Miss Parker, always the stubborn one, does as she is told and spins on her heels. The sight is perhaps the funniest, yet sickest, picture of them all. Her twin brother, Mr. Lyle, is talking with a group of Pirates and Serial Killers. He is dressed as a priest and mocks blessing a few people. She reaches behind her and grabs a second glass, drains it, and then looks back. The picture has not changed, but Lyle is walking towards them now.
"Peace be with you." Lyle makes a cross sigh with his hand and stands back grinning. Looking over the group in front of him, the grin gets bigger.
His gaze falls on Broots, who at this moment seems to be sinking into the bar. "You know Broots, a pimp is supposed to have balls." Broots lets of a small, forced grin.
Lyle changes his sight to Sydney and smiles contently. "I always knew you were a clown Syd. Nice choice."
Miss Parker is next and his grin disappears. "Now you, sis. You're costume is confusing to me. What are you?"
Parker slams the third Scotch glass onto the bar as she sighs in frustration. "Why it is so hard to figure out?" She pulls the halo off her head, throws it at him, and grabs her wings. "You see that halo and these wings. I'm an angel damn it. Why can't anybody figure that out on their own?"
Lyle catches the halo and looks at her. "I figured that part out. But what kind of angel dresses in black leather?"
She responds with a groan and starts to walk away. "Go back to the pope." The only insult she manages to get out as Broots and Sydney start to follow her.
Sydney grabs Miss Parker by the arm causing her to come to a halt. She spins around to face him and notices a serious look on his face. His eyes don't look at her, but rather over her should towards the entrance. She slowly turns to look in the direction, but is unprepared for what greets her.
"Hello, love." Bridgette looks at her with the usual Cheshire cat grin and a lollipop sticking from her mouth her eyes trace the group before her. "What do we have here? A clown, a pimp, and Miss Parker trying to be nice."
Parker gives her a humoring grin with a tilt of the head. "And angel." She looks over the woman standing before her and cracks a smile. "And what are you supposed to be?"
Bridgette smiles as she does a spin in her costume. "I'm Mother Teresa."
"Yeah, only in brains." The small grin fades from Miss Parker's face as a look of pity appears. "It's a good idea to have a shred of morality before dressing as a nun." The smile returns. "Just for future reference."
Parker turns away content with what she said, but Bridgette gets the last laugh. "Since was does a supple, innocent angel wear leather skirts?"
Parker freezes in her place as Sydney and Broots glance at each other. Parker turns around to lay into Bridgette but she sees her father. Any trace of dialog goes screaming out of her head as his costume slams her in the face.
Mr. Parker stands before her with his hands on hips and a big grin on his face. Her eyes fall to the ground and trace up his costume. Black boots, leather chaps over blue jeans, a black leather coat worn over a tight T- shirt and a black leather hat with silver studs. She slowly feels around for something to sit in, but is content with landing on the floor. The pain brings her senses back, but they forgot her ability to speak.
"What's the matter angel? Cat got your tongue?" He leans over to help his Miss Parker to her feet, but the grin does not leave. Her eyes don't leave him as she tries to regain the gift of speech.
Broots and Sydney can't stop staring at Mr. Parker. Broots nudges the psychiatrist in the side before speaking. "Please explain that."
Sydney doesn't look away from the owner of the Centre, no matter how hard he tries. "I wish I could."
"D, D, D." Miss Parker's eyes refuse to leave her father. She shakes her head, finally bringing the thoughts back. "Daddy?"
The grin on his face disappears as he brushes his daughter's hair back. "Is it too much?"
She slowly shakes her head yes, but speaks again. "N, no." Her subconscious wins the control of her body.
"I kept telling Bridgette that me dressing as a biker would be too much. She didn't believe me."
She grabs her father by the arm and leans into him. "Well, you were, um, right." She looks at her father in the eyes. "Daddy, do you know what kind of angels wear leather?"
He lets out a soft chuckle as he pulls her close. "Mine."
She sighs and silently accepts her father's hug. "Thank you."
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The party has since ended and Miss Parker is on her way home. As expected, her cellphone rings and she answers in the usual tone. "What?"
"I didn't know angel's had attitudes." Jarod's voice silently creeps into her ear.
She smiles at the comment, aware that Jarod can't see it. "Well then, you don't know me as good as you thought rat boy."
Jarod chuckles on the other line as he continues. "Only too well, Parker."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Parker's tone gets serious; she's convinced he knows something.
"No meaning intended."
The Ice Queen silently returns. "Bull shit Jarod. You and I both know it. Now what do you know?"
"I know you see yourself as an angel."
Parker falls silent. He was at the party. Where? How?
"How was the party?"
"You were there?" The confusion is evident in her voice. "How'd you manage to not be seen?"
Once again Jarod chuckles. "Do you realize that all of you're sweepers look alike?"
Now Miss Parker laughs. Of course, what better disguise than dressing as your enemy? "You were a sweeper. Nice. How much did you see?"
"I blacked out at Tarzan."
"I know the feeling. Gouging my eyes out felt like a good plan at that point."
The two share a few more hours of talking before the night ends. Nothing like a holiday to bring people together, even if the next day is business as usual. For a few hours during the conversation, Parker was seriously considering contacting the Centre to capture Jarod. That was shot down when she realized they haven't had a decent conversation since he escaped, and now was the time to catch up.
Unfortunately, tomorrow was the usual cat and mouse games. However, this night would live with her for a long time, despite the good and bad.
Disclaimer: I don't own the rights; I'm just borrowing the characters. Please don't sue.I'm poor.
Notes: I'm taking a break from Omega Web for the time being. My thanks go out to Ruby Trinity for helping me come up with half the costumes. Without her, the characters wouldn't make much sense and they costumes wouldn't be a play on the people.
And Begin! Credit for this phrase goes to Shane Helms of the WWE.
----------------------
Its time for the annual Centre costume party. It's a day where differences are set aside and everybody just enjoys themselves. Dreams come true and nightmares are realized. For some, their wildest imaginations take over. Others experience what makes their hearts turn black.
The main lobby of the Centre has been converted into the main festive area. A working bar is in the corner next to a tank filled with apples floating on water. Curiously, all of the Centre employees are split into their own factions.
The sweepers are together, some of them seemed to not get the costume memo, they have shown up in the usual suit and tie that their job dictates. Miss Parker just arrived as has started to look around; many of the people in this party have stopped talking and started to at her.
One brave sweeper musters the courage to walk up to her. "Hello, Miss Parker." He looks at her costume and cracks a smile. "What are you supposed to be?"
Every year she gets that question and every year she gets sick of it. Why does she keep coming to these things?
"What the hell do you think I'm supposed to be?" She notices the sweeper is not responding so she continues. "I'm an Angel damn it. Why else would I wear wings and this stupid halo thing?"
"But I didn't know Angels wore black leather." The response earns the sweeper a shot to the face.
Parker's response is subtle but conveys the same answer she would've voiced. "Kiss my ass sweeper boy," the renegade thought travels her head at warp speed. What she saw next will stay burned in her mind for the rest of her natural life, maybe the dead version too.
She sees a neon green hat in the corner with a big yellow feather sticking out of the brim. The suit looks to be a neon green crushed velvet with matching bellbottom pants. The costume alone had to be a sin against nature, and then the wearing turned around. Her heart stopped mid-beat as the person walked up to her, gold cane in hand.
"Hey Miss Parker." He slips into character. "How's it hanging sweetcakes?"
"B, B, Broots?" She can't believe her eyes. This must be a dream, it has to be. There is no other explanation than she drank some bad Scotch before she fell asleep. That has to be it.
But the cold truth is in front of her, smiling a big dopey smile, running his hands up and down the leopard print trim of his suit coat. Her eyes fall onto the neon yellow shirt that is missing the top two buttons, then they trace up to the ten pounds of fake gold are his neck.
"Is that you?" She still can't believe it. She can't even blink.
"I like your costume." Broots continues to smile as he notices Parker can't stop staring. "I'm guessing you're some sort of angel, a 'Fallen Angel'?"
"Wha, what?" She shakes her head and looks back at him. Still no use, she can't get past this surprise. "I, I'm j, just an a, angel."
"What kind of angel wears black leather?" Broots continues to push buttons. He can get away with it now, but he realizes tomorrow will be hell.
Broots looks over her shoulder and smiles even bigger as Sydney walks into the room. Broots glances back at Miss Parker and winks as he walks past her. He forgets how long the feather is and ends up hitting Parker in the face with the tip of it causing her to sneeze.
She turns around to stare into the face of a clown. Her heart starts up again but at a quickened pace. Feels like 25 beats a minute as it threatens to jump from her chest and go screaming down the hallway. The clown takes full advantage of the moment and squirts her in the face with his "water flower". She wipes the water from her face and replaces it with a look of extreme anger.
"You must want to die today funboy." The anger is apparent as she growls her remark.
"Not anymore than yesterday, Parker." He squeezes his nose releasing a small honk.
"Sydney?" The shots keep coming. She glances at the polka dot jumpsuit Sydney is wearing and then looks at his white face. Sydney's grin is unmistakable, but the painted frown and tear really gets to her.
Sydney puts an arm around her as Broots stands beside her. Her eyes once again fall onto Broots; she can't get past his costume. Broots, the techie nerd, dressed as a pimp. Never in her wildest dreams would she see this again.
The groups start to walk forward as Sydney begins to talk. "You know Parker, the costume a person wears tells a lot about them as a person. To the viewer, the costume represents the wearer's actual personality. It's a proven," he trails off as he notices Miss Parker doesn't seem to be paying attention.
He turns around to see that she and Broots have come to a full stop, staring behind him. They are both wide-eyed and their jaws are hanging wide open, hardly breathing. Almost dreading what he'll see, he goes against his better judgment and turns around. He is greeted by the haunting image of Mr. Raines standing in front of him wearing nothing but a leopard print Speedo. Sydney almost has a stroke.
"Me, Tarzan." The former doctor wheezes to the three standing before him. After a small grin, he leaves with his oxygen tank in tow behind him.
Broots starts to suffer from a panic attack as he remembers the dream from Las Vegas. The last image he saw in that dream was Mr. Raines dressed the exact same way; only his name was 'Mr. Wiggles'.
Miss Parker, perhaps the most observant yet the most scarred of the group, makes the only comment for the short time they stood still. She looks back at Sydney with an almost revolted expression. "How do you explain that one, Freud?"
"I, I, I." Sydney's eyes don't leave the direction the former doctor went as he falls speechless.
Broots tries to get rid of the image, but fails. "Did he dress his tank like a monkey?"
His gaze meets Miss Parker's as she tries not to throw up. "Oh god. I need a drink."
The group makes it to the bar as Broots takes his hat off. Parker can't seem to avoid the feather, so she angrily throws the hat on the ground. "This has got to be hell." She picks up her glass of Scotch and drains it. "I don't know how much more I can take."
"Then don't turn around." Broots is already staring at the door and his voice seems cold.
Miss Parker, always the stubborn one, does as she is told and spins on her heels. The sight is perhaps the funniest, yet sickest, picture of them all. Her twin brother, Mr. Lyle, is talking with a group of Pirates and Serial Killers. He is dressed as a priest and mocks blessing a few people. She reaches behind her and grabs a second glass, drains it, and then looks back. The picture has not changed, but Lyle is walking towards them now.
"Peace be with you." Lyle makes a cross sigh with his hand and stands back grinning. Looking over the group in front of him, the grin gets bigger.
His gaze falls on Broots, who at this moment seems to be sinking into the bar. "You know Broots, a pimp is supposed to have balls." Broots lets of a small, forced grin.
Lyle changes his sight to Sydney and smiles contently. "I always knew you were a clown Syd. Nice choice."
Miss Parker is next and his grin disappears. "Now you, sis. You're costume is confusing to me. What are you?"
Parker slams the third Scotch glass onto the bar as she sighs in frustration. "Why it is so hard to figure out?" She pulls the halo off her head, throws it at him, and grabs her wings. "You see that halo and these wings. I'm an angel damn it. Why can't anybody figure that out on their own?"
Lyle catches the halo and looks at her. "I figured that part out. But what kind of angel dresses in black leather?"
She responds with a groan and starts to walk away. "Go back to the pope." The only insult she manages to get out as Broots and Sydney start to follow her.
Sydney grabs Miss Parker by the arm causing her to come to a halt. She spins around to face him and notices a serious look on his face. His eyes don't look at her, but rather over her should towards the entrance. She slowly turns to look in the direction, but is unprepared for what greets her.
"Hello, love." Bridgette looks at her with the usual Cheshire cat grin and a lollipop sticking from her mouth her eyes trace the group before her. "What do we have here? A clown, a pimp, and Miss Parker trying to be nice."
Parker gives her a humoring grin with a tilt of the head. "And angel." She looks over the woman standing before her and cracks a smile. "And what are you supposed to be?"
Bridgette smiles as she does a spin in her costume. "I'm Mother Teresa."
"Yeah, only in brains." The small grin fades from Miss Parker's face as a look of pity appears. "It's a good idea to have a shred of morality before dressing as a nun." The smile returns. "Just for future reference."
Parker turns away content with what she said, but Bridgette gets the last laugh. "Since was does a supple, innocent angel wear leather skirts?"
Parker freezes in her place as Sydney and Broots glance at each other. Parker turns around to lay into Bridgette but she sees her father. Any trace of dialog goes screaming out of her head as his costume slams her in the face.
Mr. Parker stands before her with his hands on hips and a big grin on his face. Her eyes fall to the ground and trace up his costume. Black boots, leather chaps over blue jeans, a black leather coat worn over a tight T- shirt and a black leather hat with silver studs. She slowly feels around for something to sit in, but is content with landing on the floor. The pain brings her senses back, but they forgot her ability to speak.
"What's the matter angel? Cat got your tongue?" He leans over to help his Miss Parker to her feet, but the grin does not leave. Her eyes don't leave him as she tries to regain the gift of speech.
Broots and Sydney can't stop staring at Mr. Parker. Broots nudges the psychiatrist in the side before speaking. "Please explain that."
Sydney doesn't look away from the owner of the Centre, no matter how hard he tries. "I wish I could."
"D, D, D." Miss Parker's eyes refuse to leave her father. She shakes her head, finally bringing the thoughts back. "Daddy?"
The grin on his face disappears as he brushes his daughter's hair back. "Is it too much?"
She slowly shakes her head yes, but speaks again. "N, no." Her subconscious wins the control of her body.
"I kept telling Bridgette that me dressing as a biker would be too much. She didn't believe me."
She grabs her father by the arm and leans into him. "Well, you were, um, right." She looks at her father in the eyes. "Daddy, do you know what kind of angels wear leather?"
He lets out a soft chuckle as he pulls her close. "Mine."
She sighs and silently accepts her father's hug. "Thank you."
----------------------
The party has since ended and Miss Parker is on her way home. As expected, her cellphone rings and she answers in the usual tone. "What?"
"I didn't know angel's had attitudes." Jarod's voice silently creeps into her ear.
She smiles at the comment, aware that Jarod can't see it. "Well then, you don't know me as good as you thought rat boy."
Jarod chuckles on the other line as he continues. "Only too well, Parker."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Parker's tone gets serious; she's convinced he knows something.
"No meaning intended."
The Ice Queen silently returns. "Bull shit Jarod. You and I both know it. Now what do you know?"
"I know you see yourself as an angel."
Parker falls silent. He was at the party. Where? How?
"How was the party?"
"You were there?" The confusion is evident in her voice. "How'd you manage to not be seen?"
Once again Jarod chuckles. "Do you realize that all of you're sweepers look alike?"
Now Miss Parker laughs. Of course, what better disguise than dressing as your enemy? "You were a sweeper. Nice. How much did you see?"
"I blacked out at Tarzan."
"I know the feeling. Gouging my eyes out felt like a good plan at that point."
The two share a few more hours of talking before the night ends. Nothing like a holiday to bring people together, even if the next day is business as usual. For a few hours during the conversation, Parker was seriously considering contacting the Centre to capture Jarod. That was shot down when she realized they haven't had a decent conversation since he escaped, and now was the time to catch up.
Unfortunately, tomorrow was the usual cat and mouse games. However, this night would live with her for a long time, despite the good and bad.