Hot pink/Blood red part 2

Had to make it Episodic cause CV is butts. part one

http://www.comicvine.com/forums/rpg/9/hot-pink-and-blood-red/653405/

The offices of Dr. Hilda Spooner, Child Psychologist.

Fussing around in a big, pleather armchair, greener then a fresh crayon, sat a little eleven year old girl, sweaty, with a pair of eyes, looking like they are somewhere else, far away from the tiny cramped quarters of the doctor woman’s office. Walls of burgundy, shiny grey file cabinets and almost dead ferns dominated that room. They felt like they were inching, inching closer with each passing tick of father time.

Thin fingers, dug deep into the arms of the chair.

A raspy voice, with a hint of agitation behind it, spoke again, to the young girl.

“Melissa….Melissa..Sweetie, you’re going to have to talk to me sometime.” The voice came from the doctor woman…Dr. Spooner. A tall, bony woman, in her late thirties, a new tan contrasted with her black power suit and hair. Dr. Spooner sat across from Melissa, note pad and pen ready. Leaning closer, gently placing a caring hand on Melissa’s shoulder. Melissa avoided eye contact, focused on the cartoon bees stitched to the yellow denim of her overalls.

“You’re going to have talk…about why your behavior is the way it is.”

“Why are you sad?”

“Why did you attack that boy? That was a very horrible thing to do.”

“Why did you try to drown him in mud?”

Melissa was stone faced…not a good sign in an elven year old. Dr. Spooner sighed, sat back and looked at Melissa, five years in, Hilda was still unnerved that kids could even go this far. She looked at her notes, new tactic.

“Who is Ms. Bunny...she sounds like a bad friend to me.”

Not a thing.

Dr. Spooner adjusted, and gave the notes another look.

“Melissa, listen. I don’t think your bad, you feel a lot of emotions the confuse you…scare you, anger you. You don’t know what to do.

“I know deep down you’re a good girl.” Dr. Spooner gave a warm, big sister reaching out smile, she really meant it.

Melissa’s tiny heart felt like it was melting, tears rolled down her cheeks, the words, the answers to all the doctor woman’s question started to build up courage, trying to burst out. But her ears hurt.

The sound of buzzing, busy bees, her eye looked at her clothes at the bees. Then the shiny cabinets started to rattle, the ferns vibrated, the walls were so close.

It all stopped, a head leaned close to Melissa’s ear, long black hair hid most of it, but it is hard to miss the odd facial structure, the pink nose, buck teeth…the rabbit ears. It started to whisper.

Melissa’s gentle but waterlogged; eyes stared to side table, to the letter open in the middle, then to the doctor writing away on her pad.

Cleveland now.

The wild orange color from the flames of the garbage painted the small area where Harlequin was sitting, zoned out, just coming of the Tower of Terror that is her mind. Harlequin shook it off, her black peepers blinked repeatedly. The sensation of gravel and fragments of a beer bottle scraped her bottom as she sat up.

Louis and Wayne, surprised and a little aroused by the fact the Harlequin hand no underwear on.

“You have been precious vagabonds.” The Heartland Harlequin stated

“A Merry go round of fun.”

“…but I’d leave town as soon as I can.”

“Tonight is just not the night for innocent bystanders.”

On the road, driving into the town of Newridge,AZ, early morning.

The white Mazda four door, cruised forward at a nice even speed. Behind the front windshield sat Mallory, engaged in the teenage ritual of checking your phone’s inbox, seeing that big fat zero, and shutting close the phone with a sigh. Leaning over, the zipper to her pink Jansport front pocket in her fingers, she put up the phone, upset, wanting to give it a break. She was hoping Brit wrote her back, Mallory texted that she was back in Newridge. Britney and Mallory just started dating…secretly...but dating none the less, they are in the honeymoon phase, unable to survive five seconds or be five inches apart from one another.

With all that’s been going on, Mal didn’t want to come out of the closet…just wanted the world to spin on by and leave her and Brit behind.

Zip.

She zipped the pocket and sat back in her seat. Looking over to the driver’s seat, at her pop pop, fifty nine years young, didn’t act like it, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to squint at the road signs. They were on their way to Mallory’s home; she spent the weekend at her Grandparents’ estate, Mal smiled, the smell pop pop’s chewing tobacco laid siege to her sinus cavities, comforting her in a way. She closed her eyes and tilted back.

“Girlfriend troubles, kiddo?” Pop pop broke the silence.

Mallory’s eyes shot open, throat tightens, and air got thicker.

D@MMIT !

How do Grandpas always know ?

Mallory looked over to him and started to speak, but she was cut off

“Don’t worry, when you’re ready to tell everyone, I’ll act surprised.” He Smiled, gave a nudge to say it’s okay kiddo. Mallory ignored that he was driving; she embraced him hard, trying not to soak his cardigan.

“What in the name…..what happen here?” Pop said, in shock, putting up the parking break, getting of the driver side door. What was he talking about, Mal thought for a second and then gasped as she saw what it was. Her throat tightened again. The Blackwater home vandalized straight to heck. The lawn coated in garbage, windows smashed in, the smell of fire and number two. Expletives sprawled all over the wall but the one that was the biggest.

KEEP GENE JUNK OUT OF NEWRIDGE!

Mallory watch as her grandfather conversed with her mother, looking utterly beside herself and father, whose mind was racked on how he was going to tackle this mess. Mal knew word for word the conversation coming her way.

“Don’t worry kiddo” Pop

“It’s gonna be fine Mal….it’s gonna be fine.” Dad

“Don’t fret Nightingale…the world just isn’t ready for you yet.” Mom

Mallory buried her face in her hands, hoping the blue stripes of her long sleeve shirt would drown her.

Don’t fret Nightingale.

Quicken Loans Arena, now.

The match was a total success! The first in series of matches the writers have set up for the next couple the “Face” or in wrestling terminology, the hero, Amy Sue Watanabe and Lady Nightingale, the “Tweener” or in a sense the anti-hero. It was classic story telling. Amy Sue was defending her honor, Lady stating you not good enough to hang with the queen of the flock. Highlights of the match, being played right before the big main event of the night, showcased the ending. The ladies in the middle of the huge indy crowd. They charged at each other, both, going for a clothesline, but clashing together, knocking the air out of each other. When you ask, if pro-wrestling is fake, the answer is a yes/no, it’s choreographed but the risk is real. That little stunt they pulled could have been lethal if not performed right.

Rolling around on the ground, “selling” the pain, the performers struggled to get to their feet, Amy sue was first, setting up for a DDT, Lady Nightingale was ready, stomping on Sue’s foot, forcing her to grab at it. Now was her chance, Nightingale grabbed Amy Sue’s foot, she pulled her off balance, smacking back on the canvas.

The crowd was in an uproar.

Lady Nightingale held Amy Sue’s leg between her own and her arms wrapped around just so, so that was point towards the body, the Straight leg lock. Applying pressure, Lady Nightingale was in complete control, the tap out was just moments away.

Walking down the hallway, exhausted ready to go home, Mal was in her streets, a purple John Cena shirt, and her hoodie tied around her waist. The soft rolling of her suitcase wheels echoed, she pulled out her phone, to call the taxi and check in on her leading lady Haruko.

No reception.

She stopped for a moment , removing one of her contacts, she wore to fit in, reveling her light pink iris underneath. Taking a deep breath and focusing her mind’s eye for a sec, her electro-magnetic vision kicked on, one of the perks was that she can see satellite transmissions, more accurate than any bar. Mal followed the pulsating purple wave outside.

I don't know, I kinda wanna fight this person. The Heartland person, not the Fuchsia person. Too bad....