Wilford Warfstache (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cottoncandypink) wrote2017-11-21 12:18 pm
cottoncandypink) wrote2017-11-21 12:18 pm
He hadn’t even meant to kill the bastard, but sometimes these things just happen
In the end, the video wasn’t as bad as Wilford had expected it to be. There was a lot of blood, and a lot of cheering from the audience, but that was just about it. There wasn’t even any fight. He just sat there and took it, letting himself get stabbed over and over and over again.
Why?
Was he really so determined to have a spotlessly clean record that letting himself get killed was the preferable option?
Well, all things considered, apparently it was. Wilford just wished he could remember doing it. He wished he could remember what he was thinking as he got completely carried away. The intent going into the interview was to piss this guy off; rile him up and get him to make a mistake. He hadn’t even meant to kill the bastard, but sometimes these things just happen. And apparently turning him into Swiss cheese had pretty much exactly the same end result, since Wilford was watching video almost nobody else even knew had ever existed.
Almost nobody.
He quickly paused the video when he heard the door opening, and glared up at the man who had never been taught how to knock.
“He’s here,” Billy said, sticking his head into Wilford’s dressing room.
This was going to be too good.
“Send him in here,” Wilford said.
Billy nodded and opened the door for the man of the hour. Once he was inside, Billy shut the door again and left them alone, leaving the gamer and adventurer standing a bit awkwardly in the middle of the room.
“Please, have a seat,” Wilford said, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of his desk.
Wilford could see the nervousness as he moved; like he was trying to do everything right this time. Like he was afraid everything was about to go horribly wrong.
As soon as he sat down, Wilford picked a random spot from the recording and pressed play. For a moment, time seemed to stop as the sounds of an interview going terribly wrong filled the room.
“What is this?” the save scumming little prick demanded. “How do you have that?”
“Oh, you know exactly what this is, don’t you?” Wilford said. He paused the video and held up one finger, keeping the guy in his seat. “Here’s what’s going to happen, friendo. You’re going to do the interview, and you’re going to tell everybody what you’ve been doing for the last fifteen years.”
“No,” he said. “Why would you think I’d do that?”
“Why?” asked Wilford. “Is that all you have to say? Why? Now, surely I thought you’d be more interesting than that.”
The other guy lunged forward for the card, but Wilford pulled it out of the reader before he could get to it, holding it out of reach.
“Oh, come now. You don’t really think this is the only copy, do you?” he asked. He looked at it and tossed it over the desk, hitting the other guy in the side of the face. “Keep it. I’ve got the original.”
It was that look, right there, that Wilford lived for in these cases. That angry, hopeless glare of someone still defiantly trying to find a way out, and knowing that there wasn’t one.
“How?” he asked.
Wilford laughed smugly. “Well, at least it’s not why. I’ll give you that. But I’d like to ask you the same thing. How?”
The murderous look being shot at him was the best part, well and truly.
“Second save log? You got someone helping you out?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the other guy said stiffly. As if he thought for a second that Wilford didn’t know what he was up to.
“No?” Wilford shrugged and waved his hand dismissively at his guest. “Go on and be a good little boy and wait in the green room.”
Anger, confusion, hopelessness. It was all right there, even as he got up and refused to turn his back on Wilford as he walked toward the door. He knew, right then, everything had been worth it.
Why?
Was he really so determined to have a spotlessly clean record that letting himself get killed was the preferable option?
Well, all things considered, apparently it was. Wilford just wished he could remember doing it. He wished he could remember what he was thinking as he got completely carried away. The intent going into the interview was to piss this guy off; rile him up and get him to make a mistake. He hadn’t even meant to kill the bastard, but sometimes these things just happen. And apparently turning him into Swiss cheese had pretty much exactly the same end result, since Wilford was watching video almost nobody else even knew had ever existed.
Almost nobody.
He quickly paused the video when he heard the door opening, and glared up at the man who had never been taught how to knock.
“He’s here,” Billy said, sticking his head into Wilford’s dressing room.
This was going to be too good.
“Send him in here,” Wilford said.
Billy nodded and opened the door for the man of the hour. Once he was inside, Billy shut the door again and left them alone, leaving the gamer and adventurer standing a bit awkwardly in the middle of the room.
“Please, have a seat,” Wilford said, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of his desk.
Wilford could see the nervousness as he moved; like he was trying to do everything right this time. Like he was afraid everything was about to go horribly wrong.
As soon as he sat down, Wilford picked a random spot from the recording and pressed play. For a moment, time seemed to stop as the sounds of an interview going terribly wrong filled the room.
“What is this?” the save scumming little prick demanded. “How do you have that?”
“Oh, you know exactly what this is, don’t you?” Wilford said. He paused the video and held up one finger, keeping the guy in his seat. “Here’s what’s going to happen, friendo. You’re going to do the interview, and you’re going to tell everybody what you’ve been doing for the last fifteen years.”
“No,” he said. “Why would you think I’d do that?”
“Why?” asked Wilford. “Is that all you have to say? Why? Now, surely I thought you’d be more interesting than that.”
The other guy lunged forward for the card, but Wilford pulled it out of the reader before he could get to it, holding it out of reach.
“Oh, come now. You don’t really think this is the only copy, do you?” he asked. He looked at it and tossed it over the desk, hitting the other guy in the side of the face. “Keep it. I’ve got the original.”
It was that look, right there, that Wilford lived for in these cases. That angry, hopeless glare of someone still defiantly trying to find a way out, and knowing that there wasn’t one.
“How?” he asked.
Wilford laughed smugly. “Well, at least it’s not why. I’ll give you that. But I’d like to ask you the same thing. How?”
The murderous look being shot at him was the best part, well and truly.
“Second save log? You got someone helping you out?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the other guy said stiffly. As if he thought for a second that Wilford didn’t know what he was up to.
“No?” Wilford shrugged and waved his hand dismissively at his guest. “Go on and be a good little boy and wait in the green room.”
Anger, confusion, hopelessness. It was all right there, even as he got up and refused to turn his back on Wilford as he walked toward the door. He knew, right then, everything had been worth it.