Ivy McGinnis is pregnant… extremely pregnant… ready to pop at any moment. Get it – she’s pregnant.
And here she sits, in the back of an arena at a catering table, two laptops spread out in front of her. On one, she monitors the feed to and from production: cameras, lights, CSWAvision and even the arena’s security system. On the other, she’s monitoring the CSWA website and its live feed of PRIMETIME – the only way this show is being seen by anyone outside the building.
After the failure in Columbia, she isn’t taking any chances. Other online friends are helping to monitor all internet traffic between the arena and the website, while extra security is combing the building looking for anything suspicious. And speaking of suspicious, “Little Voltron” Adrian Evans is monitoring Teri Melton, whose ‘accident’ in Columbia just happened to allow the Hacker to take over the system again, despite the precautions in place.
So far there hasn’t been a peep. Maybe the Hacker has done what he or she wanted – getting the CSWA thrown off television, causing layoffs and threatening the very existence of the company.
As she sips her third cup of weak coffee for the evening, she reflects on her earlier discussion with the CSWA’s primary announce team, Sammy Benson and Bill Buckley. She’s known both men for her entire tenure in the CSWA, well over a decade now. They know the burden she puts on herself.
“You’re only human, all of us are just individuals.”
“Unacceptable, Sammy. I can’t afford to be ‘only human.’ I have to be better than that.”
“Seriously, this isn’t good for the baby.”
That might’ve been a mistake. Ivy stood up, knocking the back of the chair against the wall with a ‘CLANG’ that made Bill and Sammy, and most of the people who were still trying to hear the argument in the office without making it look like it, flinch in surprise.
“What isn’t good, Sam,” she continued, and he knew he was in for it, “is that this business has gotten so f---ed up in the past few years, this company was the single holdover from the ‘boom’ that everyone likes to talk about with such reverence, and we could get there or close enough to it again so easily I can see it, but there’s always one more fork in the road.”
She looked down at Sammy from her four inch heeled boots. “You’re lucky, Sammy… you get to sit out in the arena and be funny. That’s your whole job. Some of us… some of us have a little bit more to worry about.”
Her eyes caught Sammy’s, and they locked their gaze for a few seconds, before Sammy got up and walked away. Ivy watched him for a few seconds, and looked back towards Buckley.
“That was too far, wasn’t it Bill?”
Buckley shrugged. He was not nearly as close to Ivy as Rudy Seitzer, or even Sammy in his own way – he didn’t know what he should say here.
Fortunately, Ivy did.
“Damn. Damn, damn, damn.”