Chapter 9

"And you're an idiot for even saying those words because this wasn't a coincidence." Emery plopped on the couch and tossed him a bottled water, cracking open one of her crystal lights and sat Indian style. "Someone is targeting both of us and making us rip each other's throats out, figuratively speaking. I've been thinking about it ever since I came home and…I honestly don't know who would target me and you at the same time. It makes no sense considering I'm just a lowly writer on the team." There was no way she would ever admit to being the lead script writer; Emery liked her head attached to her skull. "I'm nobody special, but you are and whoever saw our…scuffles took advantage. So, who do YOU think it is, Deadman?"

"No idea." He said promptly, staring at her intently. If she spoke to everyone the way she did him, Mark could see how Emery might not make friends all that well. Either she didn't know it or didn't care, but she spoke to people like they were all idiots and he wasn't an idiot. "Someone who doesn't like you." Because everyone adored him, or feared him; same difference really. "You go out of your way to piss anyone else off or am I special?"

She deserved that, not meaning to speak to him disrespectfully. "Sorry, I just don't…I don't know how else to talk to you. I'm not a conversationalist and you showing up at my front door is a little surreal to me. I didn't mean to piss you off, Mark." Emery meant that, drawing her brows together in thought while staring at him. He was a beautiful man – a beautiful man who would never look her way or see past the glasses and 'nerd' clothes. "I tell you what, let's start over from scratch. And I'll go first." Scooting closer to him on the couch, Emery sat on her knees and extended her hand with a soft smile, no malice or ingenuity. "Hi, I'm Emery." She leaned closer to him. "Now you." She staged whispered, pulling back with her hand still extended.

Mark comprehended she was crazy; he had known it for a while, but this just kind of cemented it. Inwardly sighing, he took her hand and shook it. "Mark Calaway." He said after a moment, studying her attentively. He bet if she put on some lipstick and went around in a plaid mini-skirt with a button up top, she'd be a gamer geek pin-up. And the thought made his emerald green eyes flick over her, looking for the woman under the geek. "The only person who would actively screw with me for giggles is not on the show." Shawn was an asshole that way.

Come to think of it, Glen Jacobs – Kane – was guilty of pulling pranks too.

"I didn't screw with you for giggles, I screwed with you because you screwed with me first. But I'm willing to let bygones be bygones if you are." She raised a brow at him, putting the ball in his court and grinned when he shook her hand, nodding in agreement. "Good, no more screwing with each other."

It was a truce! They made a truce finally! Emery was definitely one of a kind woman and she knew it, not to mention her secretive adrenaline junkie ways. That motorcycle ride with him suddenly flittered through her mind, making her sky blues twinkle.

"I'm sorry about…everything." That included his upcoming WrestleMania match where he was supposed to lose against Batista. "Now, what are we going to do about this fucker who is screwing around with us? How can we catch them in the act?"

"No idea." Mark admitted, leaning back cautiously into the couch and let out a sigh of relief when it kept on holding him. "But I will tell you this, darlin', it's all stopped. The second you left, everything just… stopped, including the storylines. Vince is having nightly fits and Smackdown! is going to tank in weeks. That's being generous, if Matthew doesn't fix whatever is going on." It was odd because it had been Matthew all these years leading the charge, right? So why was everything going downhill because one woman was gone?

"O-Oh really?" Emery rubbed the back of her neck, not liking the sound of what had happened to her writing team since her suspension. "Well that's on him, not me." Paul and Randy had given her updates and she knew Matthew was tanking fast, but there was nothing she could do about it. "So nothing else has happened ever since I left…That's so strange." It was almost like whoever this person was wanted her gone. "Matthew needs to fix it, I can't do anything about it, even if I was there." That was a flat lie, but her neck was on the line right now. Mark would destroy her if he found out she'd been the mastermind behind all the lines for the past 10 years. "Until my suspension is lifted, I can't do anything to help unfortunately. Did he at least finish the script for No Way Out with you and Batista against Cena and Michaels?"

"Yeah, he did." His lips thinned into a grim line as he remembered the morning meeting for that atrocity. "I think that's about the only thing Batista and I agreed on, ever. That it sucks. Vince told him he had 24 hours to fix it; mind you, that was yesterday and I haven't heard dick about it since. No idea what Cena or Michaels think because I don't care."

Both men gave him a headache. She looked uncomfortable and he studied her thoughtfully. Blue jean shorts and a tank top, he could not recall ever seeing her in something besides a t-shirt and jeans. Her legs were a little pale for someone who lived in Satan's balls, but they were very nice legs, surprisingly. Mark was quite tempted to reach out and caress her shapely, toned calf.

"I'll admit, when Matthew came to me with the idea for No Way Out, I thought it looked really good on paper. I still think it'll be a hell of a main event, even though you have to team up with Batista." Emery decided to be somewhat truthful with him, switching her position to sit Indian style again, but didn't move away from him. "You were right. I think Matthew knows that too, which is why he's been playing the duck and dodge game, besides being stuffed in the trunk of his rental." And towed away, she added mentally, clearing her throat. "Your legacy is a big part of WrestleMania and…I think – no I KNOW – Matthew regrets writing the line the way he did. He wasn't thinking about your legacy, he was trying to do what was best for the company and it did look good on paper. But after what I heard you say to Batista in your locker room, I agree with you. He doesn't deserve to win and end your streak. So on behalf of Matthew, and I know it doesn't mean much, but…I'm sorry, Mark. Hopefully they can fix it somehow to where you win the title at WrestleMania…"

Mark reached out with the back of his hand and felt her forehead. "Not hot, your cheeks aren't flushed… eyes not glazed over." Either hell had frozen over or she was serious. She was sincere and agitated, her eyebrows drawn together in annoyance. "Apology accepted. If you ever get your job back, remember something… what's best for the company isn't always what's best for the company. Vince wants big guys like David put over, he has a thing for…. that look." He always had. "But people like David aren't in it for the long haul and people need to start paying attention to that. No point in putting over idiots who won't be here in the next 10 years."

He wasn't being a jerk, or talking down to her, but if she did get her job back, maybe Emery would remember this and start really thinking about it. It'd definitely help her see who was worthy of honors like this and maybe she'd be able to influence her bosses, whoever that would be. Matt was probably going to wind up fired or in a mental ward for a breakdown.

"You're just full of jokes, aren't you?" Emery mumbled good-naturedly, nodding in understanding to show she listened to every word he said. "Thank you…and I know Vince has a boner for guys that are…bulky. That's not what I consider a champion though. Batista hasn't been a very good champion, all things considered."

She'd written all of his lines, but the man never lived up to expectations. Emery must've had a small breakdown when she'd written Undertaker losing to Batista at WrestleMania. Or maybe her brain had temporarily shut down.

"You're not as bad as I thought." She murmured thoughtfully, getting lost in his eyes that reminded her of emerald stones and had to look away, shaking herself mentally. "I don't think I'll be back for a while, so they'll have to find a new lead script writer if Matthew ends up fired."

She was staring at him a little too keenly and Mark cleared his throat. "Darlin', let's get this straight, I AM just as bad as you thought. I'm worse even." He had written on her forehead and rentals. Best she not get too comfortable though… if she wasn't coming back… "Wait, what do you mean, Emery? If you don't come back and he gets fired, they'd need a new lead? You think you would've had that spot if he got fired?" He was a little curious since her role was still foggy to him.

Obviously she was too smart to be that idiot's underling, but… that's what she was.

"No, I don't think so. Deep down, you're a teddy bear or you wouldn't be here talking to me, trying to figure this out. You're a nice guy…with an evil streak, I admit that." She scratched her forehead as remembrance of what he'd done to her, but that was the past and it needed to stay there. "I don't know if I would get his position. I've been with the company for 10 years, but…" Emery needed to shut up before she gave herself away and tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear. "Hopefully I do come back because I do love my job and I love the company. But it's ultimately up to Vince if he wants to bring me back and if he doesn't, there's other promotions I can work for, I guess."

"You're sweet, a little… slow, but sweet." He was considering strangling her here, in her home, for calling him a teddy bear. Nice and evil didn't mix, she needed to learn that. "What have you been doing for 10 years?" Mark asked, trying to remember seeing her before this storyline had royally pissed him off. He could remember dealing with the writer's back at the end of the 90's, irate over what they were about to do to the Ministry angle. That had been a disaster and he had less than gracefully mucked it up. "You've really been someone's assistant, or a junior writer that long? Are you any good at writing?"

There was the asshole she despised, though Emery kept the smile on her face. "I'm not anyone's assistant, just part of the writing team." Flat lie. "And yes, I'm good at my job or else I wouldn't be working for the WWE." Baiting her wouldn't work; Emery wouldn't slip up, knowing the consequences if she did. If this man even KNEW all she'd accomplished, and destroyed, with her ideas, he would've maimed her in her very own home. "I started in 1996 and it's now 2006, so 10 years with no issues…until recently." Of course he didn't remember her; she was the nerdy chick with glasses and wore video game t-shirts, mostly. Nobody ever got to see her laid back and in her element like she was now, except Randy and Paul. "It just makes me wonder what a person gets out of targeting someone on the writing team and then you. What do they get out of it in the end? Who benefits from it?"

This was a mind game – they were in a mind game and it wasn't amusing.

"Vince fires at least half the writing crew every year, so you must be good."

He wasn't praising her so much as stating a fact. Vince was just that way, though the old man also thought of himself as a 'writer'. Thank the stars that man would let himself be talked out of things. Some of the things he had come up with sucked.

"Well, Emery, let's look at it this way: since you left, everything stopped. So, who benefits from you being gone, but also knows I really, really didn't like you?" Everyone on the writing team came to mind. "Anyone trying to take your place? Got a lover hidden in the company?"

"Oh god no! No – no – no – no…Nope, I learned a long time ago what happens when you date in the company."

She'd had a fling with someone who was no longer there and it'd been the worst mistake of her life. Never again. She'd caught the 'didn't' and Emery felt a little flop in her chest, ignoring it for the time being.

"I don't think anyone on the writing team would be vying for my position since it's all the same. We're all the same except Matthew, who is the lead."

Though the more she thought about it, the more she did wonder if Matthew was behind all of this. There was no way, the man could barely form a coherent sentence and the ONLY reason why he'd been hired was to be her proxy. Nothing more.

"Or maybe this person stopped because they didn't want to be discovered and end up buried six feet under in Texas somewhere."

"I already told you, I'd bury them in some random backyard."

Not his own, he wasn't polluting Texas with some jackass's corpse. He actually eliminated Matthew, the man had been lead for years, though it was now apparent why he had been up Emery's backside. Matthew was one of those 'uppers' who needed a crew of a lot smarter, underappreciated people beneath him to pad him. And that man did need a lot of padding.

"Well, it stopped, and you're gone so… this is about you more than me." He felt like he had been a tool, used to get to her, and it had worked quite well.

"I don't like games." Emery finally got tired of sitting on her hair and shifted enough to pull it back to rest over her shoulder. "I mean I DO like games, obviously." She gestured around the living room at all of her posters and gaming memorabilia, which was quite a bit. Every gaming console known to man decked out her 5-tier entertainment center, her huge 70" flat screen television on the wall. "But mind games, no. Don't like them a bit. And whoever this person is, if I find out who they are, what I did to you will look like child's play compared to what happens to them." She vowed, a dark tinge in her voice and looked back at her unexpected visitor. "So why did you come here anyway? Why even bother making amends with someone like me?"