The Last Magician - Season 9 - Subscribers Only: Contract!

[Sally Talfourd]

[Sally Talfourd]

The shot opens to a boardroom bathed in opulence—dark mahogany walls, leather chairs, and a sweeping view of the New York city skyline through floor-to-ceiling windows. A long, polished oak table dominates the room, and at one end sits the EWC Undisputed Champion and ‘Last Magician’ herself Sally Talfourd. As if to leave no room for doubt in anyone’s mind, Sally wears her championship belt with casual pride, exuding an air of invincibility. And, with her turn of fortunes comes a turn in the wardrobe. She is dressed exactly as you would expect – a picture of fashion with a high pants suit, textured, with a plain white business suit underneath and a black tie done up short.

On the opposite side, five stern-faced EWC representatives sit, immaculately dressed, radiating corporate formality. Because they too can leave no room for doubt, and given they are part of the faceless bureaucracy that governs the lives of many but is known by few, they each have a name-plat in front of them. First, we have Diane Drake, EWC’s Chief Marketing Officer. Next to her is David Shearer, EWC’s Senior Advisor for Business Strategy. In the middle is Eve Chase, the EWC Chief Financial Officer, and next to her is Sandra Verma, EWC’s International Digital and Sponsorship Director. Finally, bringing the conga line to an end, is Joey Montanna, EWC’s own Digital Media Content Director.

Five-on-one would traditionally make a person squirm. Then again, it’s no Insanity Cage, so Sally sits more confident than most. With a smirk, she folds her hands into her lap a little awkward with the EWC Undisputed Championship belt around her waits, “So, this is where the big shots make their moves. Not bad. I've seen more excitement in a wrestling ring, but I guess this'll do.”

She purses her lips as she takes in the far superior room than her last visit here. In response, Eve Chase clears her throat, adjusting her glasses with meticulous precision, “Thank-you for joining us here Sally.”

Sally laughs, which has a tinge of spite at the edge, “Are you kidding? I asked for this. You all just sent me papers, thinking this was business as usual.”

“Isn’t it?” David Shearer quips? “All our last champions just rolled over their contracts with the bonuses.”

“I bet they did … uhhh … what’s your name? David?” Sally feigns a squint at his nameplate, “And I bet they were happy with a 3% increase across the board for their royalties and sales and whatever else was dangled in front of them,” Sally leans onto the table, driving the point home as she jabs a finger into the tabletop, “But I’m not.”

With a sombre tone, Eve Chase opens up a compendium resting on the table in front of her, “Ms. Talfourd, we appreciate your accomplishments in the ring. However, we're here to discuss the terms of your contract now that you are the Undisputed Champion. As Mr. Shearer said, we offer the same terms to every first time champion. And, as we sent to you last year, we feel these are very generous terms.”

Sally chuckles, “Call me Sally, Eve. Ms. Talfourd makes me sound like I'm running for president. Now, about that contract...”

She leans back, draping one arm over the back of her chair, radiating confidence.

“We acknowledge your recent triumph, Sally,” Eve runs a finger down the paper in front of her, not looking up at Sally, “But our financial considerations are paramount. Whatever we discuss here, we need to ensure that they are reasonable arrangements.”

“Reasonable?” Sally’s voice is teasing, “Is that the word you guys use when you're afraid of a woman who can take anyone to the mat?”

The other executives exchange tense glances, but Eve Chase remains composed.

“Your wrestling prowess is commendable, but we cannot ignore the current economic realities. We need to protect the company's interests.”

Sally smirks, running a finger over the top of her belt.

“Well, friends, here's a reality check for you. People pay big money to see me in action. I think it’s only reasonable that I have a say how that money comes in, who gets a cut, and how it gets spent.”

The tension in the room escalates, a palpable clash of worlds – the flamboyance of the ring against the cold pragmatism of the boardroom. Now it’s time for Diane Drake to lean in, “Could you help us understand what you mean by that?”

“By what?”

Diane Drake quickly looks at the notes she’s been scribbling, “You said: How money comes in, who gets a cut, and how it’s spent.”

Sally leans forward, a mischievous glint in her eye, as she begins to lay out her demands with an air of audacious certainty, “Let's spice things up a bit, shall we? I want a say in how this company makes its money. I've got ideas that could make us all richer, not just me. I’m a people’s champion, and I’m looking out for everyone – including the talent that are so easily forgotten.”

The executives exchange sceptical glances, their stern expressions unchanged.

Eve Chase leans in, her eyes now meeting Sally’s, “We appreciate your enthusiasm, but corporate decisions are made by the board, by the executives, and by the people who know’s what’s right for EWC. That's not negotiable.”

Sally lets out a deep belly laugh, “Ms. Chase, you're missing the point. I'm not just a wrestler; I'm a brand. And this brand is going to elevate our company to new heights.”

Sally reaches into the inside pocket of her jacket and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper, folded and scrunched a hundred times. Carefully unravelling it and smoothing it on the edge of the table, she then slides it across the table, adorned with her signature already, as if sealing a pact, “I don’t want to disrupt what we’re already doing. That’s working. Great. But I think with me as the face now, we could go into business with some of these highly reputable and upstanding companies. And if we do – and I think we will - I want a percentage of the profits from these new ventures, sponsorships, the whole shebang. Call it the Sally Talfourd Effect.”

The piece of paper gets handed down the line, with eye-brows raising people sitting upright. When the list gets to Sandra Verma, her draws drops before she can remark, “One of these companies’ is currently before the International Criminal Court! And this one, it’s illegal to do business with any entity from this country …”

Sally sits back, crossing her arms, “Well I’ve always believed in innocent until proven guilty. By I guess we’re not all fascists…”

“Let’s leave the name-calling for the videos you all do,” Eve raises a hand, “This list and your proposal, it’s very … unconventional, Ms. Talfourd. We can't just do business with anyone. We have a reputation to uphold.”

“Besides,” Joey Montanna finally shares his stern voice, “These negotiations you wanted, they’re not a spectacle. It’s a serious matter, Ms. Talfourd.”

Sally sits there with a wry smile, “Serious? Life's too short for that, Mr. Montanna. Let's make my championship run something to remember.”

As Sally leans forward, the clash of styles becomes more evident, setting the stage for an absurd battle that is about to unfold. The boardroom, once a symbol of corporate power, now a stage for a surreal negotiation dance between two worlds. There’s a growing silence, stretching and stretching. Who will break? Who will blink first?

[Sally Talfourd]

It’s Sandra Verma who cracks.

“Let’s assume we can do business with some of these … errr … companies,” Sandra reaches for the piece of paper that is floating around the table, “What exactly are you proposing? Sponsorships, you said?”

“For some, yes,” Sally then stands and leans right over the table, snatching the paper from Sandra and sitting back down all high-and-mighty, “For example, I would be honoured to be seen driving Mitsubishi Mirage.”

Sandra now leans over the table to snatch the paper back, “I see here in your notes that you have gone to the effort to note that the Mitsubishi Mirage, and I quote, is the “most unsafe car with 205 deaths per million registered vehicles”. How recent are these statistics?”

Sandra looks down her nose at Sally, who with all the confidence she can muster, “They were 2023 statistics.”

Sandra rolls her eyes as the paper makes its way to Joey Montanna, “And here, no one is really doing business with X anymore. Twitter, I mean X, is in its death throws. You might as well do promotional work for Truth Social.”

Sally cranes her neck, “What’s number 45?”

Joey runs a finger down the list, “… Truth Social.”

Sally stifles a laugh. This catches Eve Chase’s attention.

“As I said, Ms. Talfourd,” The paper, now in Eve’s hands, comes to a rest in the compendium, “If you’re looking for more exposure we have a list of approved sponsors. But this list is unconventional, as I said.”

Sally smirks, “Unconventional is my middle name. Besides, who knows the audience better than the one who entertains them?” The tension in the room escalates as the executives confer in hushed tones. Sally watches, a sly grin on her face, “And while we're at it, let's talk about where the money goes. I want a say in how the company spends all this money I’m going to be bringing in.”

Eve sits up straight, a firm voice ringing out, “Ms. Talfourd, our financial decisions are carefully considered by experts. It's not something we delegate to the talent.”

Sally swings back in her chair, her hands resting behind her head, “Your experts are missing the flair, Ms. Chase. Imagine the buzz we could create, the events we could host. I've got visions that go beyond the balance sheet.” She looks out the window, as if dreaming of a world where corporate meetings are as thrilling as a championship match, “I want to have an impact on this company not just be ‘another’ champion. I want EWC to be Magic! And for that, I need to be in the driver's seat.”

Eve looks to where Sally’s gaze has drifted, wondering what she possibly sees. Seeing nothing though, she brings Sally’s attention back with a resolute voice, “We can't compromise the integrity of our operations nor our reputation.”

Sally scoffs with a teasing look in her eye, “Integrity? In a company where Xavier Reid was Undisputed Champion? Where Ibuki Ito is still a champion? Where men and women are thrown into a cage to see who can survive the most egregious violence for entertainment? Let's redefine integrity together, Ms. Chase. I think my proposal is more in line with what EWC’s image actually is.”

David Shearer interjects, “Let’s say we could find some opportunities for you to have a voice in regard to some of the expenditure – what kind of ideas do you have?”

The tension in the room hangs thick as the EWC executives exchange wary glances. Sally, undeterred, leans back in her chair, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. “Well, first up, we should look at a wider range of merchandise. I mean, sure: There’s the t-shirts. There’s the figures. There’s the beanies. But where’s our pharmaceutical line? Where’s our personal hygiene line? Why aren’t we getting into AI? And why is it I could invest in a Doge-coin but not a JoJo-coin?”

“Ms. Talfourd,” Eve pinches the bridge of her nose, “Have you seriously asked us to come here and renegotiate your contract so that you can set up an EWC-based crypto currency?”

There’s silence for a moment as Sally looks down in her lap, feeling scolded, “It was just an idea.”

The representatives from EWC, caught between disbelief and fascination, exchange glances, the boundaries of the boardroom blurring into a canvas for Sally's eccentric vision. Looking to draw a line under the absurdity, Eve Chase closes her compendium and moves to stand, “Ms. Talfourd, these ideas are, as I said, unconventionalto say the least. I will organise for your contract to be re-sent to you, and I suggest you sign it.”

Sally, looks up with a newfound resolve, “Where are you going?”

“I’m …”

“We’re not finished.”

There’s a stare-off, Sally eye-ing down Eve. The tension is thick, the animosity real. Sally gestures with her chin back to Eve’s chair, all the while patting the faceplate of her title. Eve gets the message and slowly sits back down. The negotiation reach a crossroads, a clash of ideologies echoing in the expensive boardroom. Sally, the wildcard, challenging the very fabric of corporate tradition, creating an atmosphere charged with uncertainty. The next moves will decide if the boardroom remains a fortress of convention or transforms into a stage for Magical absurdity.

[Sally Talfourd]

The EWC executives sit with a mix of bemusement and apprehension as Sally, fuelled by the success of her unconventional ideas, launches into her next proposal.

Sally, leaning her arms on the desk, interlocks her fingers, trying to project an air of seriousness, “Now, let's talk about the talent, the backbone of this whole operation. I've got some ground-breaking ideas to ensure they're compensated in a way that reflects their true worth.”

Eve Chase raises an eyebrow, “Go on, Ms. Talfourd.”

Sally’s seriousness is shattered by her smirk, “First, we implement the Quantum Wrestling Compensation System. It's like quantum physics, but for pay cheques. The more unpredictable the match, the more zeros on the pay cheques. Unpredictability equals revenue, my friends.”

Everyone opposite Sally exchange puzzled glances, trying to grasp the intricacies of this absurd proposal.

“But wait, there's more!” Sally excitedly bangs a hand on the tabletop, “We introduce a Mood-Based Bonus Structure. Wrestlers get bonuses based on their pre-match moods. Sad and brooding? Extra cash. Overjoyed and ecstatic? Even more cash. It's all about creating emotional connections with the audience.”

The room falls into a momentary silence, broken only by the ticking of an antique clock on the wall.

“Ms. Talfourd, this sounds …” David Shearer is lost for words, “How would this even work?”

“That's the beauty of it!” Sally has a wide grin across her face, “Think about the storylines we can build around wrestlers chasing different moods for that extra payday. Drama, suspense, it's all there.”

The executives exchange uneasy glances, grappling with the absurdity of linking pay cheque size to the emotional states of their wrestlers.

“Hold on!” As if Sally could find any more excitement and animation, she is on her feet, he hands doing as much talking as her mouth, “Here's the pièce de résistance – the Costume Complexity Compensation Index. The more intricate and absurd the costumes, the higher the pay cheque. We turn wrestling into a fashion show, and everyone's a star!”

“Costume complexity?”

Sally nods excitedly, “Fans love a good costume, and we give it to them in spades. Feathers, sequins, the whole shebang. We'll have wrestlers walking the runway to the ring.”

The EWC reps exchange bewildered glances, struggling to fathom the logistics of linking attire extravagance to compensation.
“And the best part?” Sally’s eyes go wide “It's all tax-deductible as performance art. We're not just wrestlers; we're avant-garde artists, pushing the boundaries of sports entertainment.”

“Is that true?” David turns to look at Eve, who doesn’t reply but simply shoots him a glare. David tries to sink into his seat.

Sally revels in the absurdity of her proposal, the executives sit in a surreal negotiation, caught between incredulity and the undeniable charisma of her ideas, “And one more thing: I only want my matches to be referred by David Morse. I have come to believe that he is the premier referee of this company.”

“Mr. Morse is subject to yet another annual performance review. There are some,” Eve clears her throat, “Anomalies with his lifestyle expenses and his known income from this company. Besides, it would be terribly difficult for one referee to follow you around.”

“That’s why I have a back-up,” Sally smiles smugly, “Toby Sawyer. If it’s not Morse, I want Sawyer. I only trust these two to call my matches down the line.”

“Ms. Talfourd,” Eve gets comfortable, “You said we weren’t finished. You’ve then gone on to propose ideas I don’t even think you comprehend. How much longer are we going to do this?”

“As long as we need to.”

“Why is there any need to do this in the first place?” There’s an exasperated sigh from Eve, “When you first arrived, owing to your pre-EWC successes and what you promised to deliver you were afforded a very generous contract – the kind usually reserved for talent who have proven themselves already at EWC. 6% across the board for all royalties and sales. What we sent you reflected a very generous increase to 9% while you are champion and your $750,000 bonus.”

Sally matches Eve’s sigh, “You just don’t get it. None of this is about the money. It’s about sending a message. A message to you five, to the other suits who didn’t even bother to turn up, to the top dog himself! You’re all so disconnected with no grasp on what’s going on in EWC. You people just look at the bottom line and are happy if things are ticking along.”

“So, what is this about then?” David implores Sally, “What is your message!?”

Sally reaches round her back, unclasping her belt and then slinging it on the table, “That you’re all stuck on the wrong things. None of what’s important to you all matters. What even is this?” Sally throws her hand at the EWC Undisputed Championship, “Other than 20-or-so pounds of leather and metal? I said God help EWC if I end up champion. I meant it. So long as everyone’s eyes are on me, I’m going to hold up a mirror to you all and reveal you all for the frauds you’ve all become. There might have been an EWC once that stood for something … that represented something … but now that’s little more than a dream.”

Eve stands this time, her body language suggesting no matter what Sally might say, this is all well and truly at an end.

“Ms. Talfourd. What you are describing is called hypocrisy. And there is only one hypocrite in all of this,” She looks up, dead at Sally, “And that’s you. You can to EWC claiming to be a wrestler of the people, promising all sorts of matches and outcomes. And what have you done? You’ve taken every opportunity this company has afforded you and make the most of it for yourself. You made a better life and a better career for yourself. And now that you are champion, you proclaim that everything this company has done for your benefit was null and void and that it needs to change?”

Sally sits there, hands in lap, swivelling back and forth in the chair like a scolded child.

“Anything else before we all leave?”

[Sally Talfourd]

The once opulent boardroom, adorned with mahogany and leather, now bears the scars of a negotiation gone awry. Tension lingers in the air, thick and suffocating. The expansive view of the city outside seems to mock the chaos within.

“I sure do.”

Sally stands, the championship belt still resting in front of her on the table, a defiant glint in her eyes. On the other side of the table, the EWC executives sit with clenched jaws and furrowed brows. Ms. Chase, in an attempt to be the epitome of corporate stoicism, struggles to maintain her composure.

“I am a hypocrite. I am,” Sally starts to slowly saunter away from her chair, “But if you think I care … well, I guess this place is filled with more stupidity than I originally thought. I have taken every opportunity … but you didn’t give them to me,” Sally quickly spins, an accusatory point, “You all gave me nothing. The Magic gave me the opportunities, and I made them a reality. All EWC has given me is a headache and a belt – and sometimes it’s hard to distinguish between the two.”

“If being champion is a problem for you,” Diane Drake pipes in, “There is a simple solution to that.”

Sally lets out a chuckle, walking towards a seated Diane, “You’d all love that, wouldn’t you? Me stepping down, throwing the belt away. I’m not part of the inner cabal, am I? I know it burns you management types that Sally Talfourd – some rank outsider – now holds the keys to the fortune and is the face of the company. You’d understand if you listened to the Magic where we could go. What EWC could become. But you don’t, and so I have to break all this down just so that the Magic can rebuild it all, through me and by me.”

Standing over Diane now, Sally’s eyes have a menace in them, and passion and an animosity. Diane has given up trying to maintain eye contact and looks away – first to the other executives and then to her lap.

David Shearer stands, his hands in his pocket, shoulders back, trying to project an air of authority now, “Sally, we don’t care who is champion, just that they are the champion and that they behave in a way becoming of a champion. All this …”

“Becoming of a champion?” Sally starts towards David now, running her fingers over the top of Diane’s seat, “What you mean to say is that I bring in the money, right? That I fall in line and become a good EWC soldiers?”

“Well, not exactly.”

“You think that will happen, Dave?” Sally’s now toe-to-toe with him, albeit David has the height, “No. It won’t. I’m not one of those good pretty things that will sit down and shut up and tow the line. I replaced that. He got pushed to the side, watching while I pinned the third wheel of our match. You lost your corporate shill when Xavier Reid lost the belt. And the rest of that conga line of suck-ups took the bait. No, you’re all stuck we me as long as it takes for either me to lose this belt, or EWC to lose everything.”

“Ms. Talfourd,” Eve Chase begins to slowly walk her way over to where Sally and David and in the middle of their thing, “This is not one of your matches. This isn’t an episode of Brawl …”

“I was on Paramount.”

“Whatever,” Eve is now shoulder-to-shoulder with David, “This was supposed to be a negotiation, until you turned it into a circus. I would suggest you walk away before you say something – or do something – you’ll regret.”

“Regret?” Sally steps from David to Eve, “You want regret? Maybe I just walk out of here and go pose with this belt at Trump rally? Or better yet, go on a whirlwind tour of the current ‘must see destinations’ of third-world nations. Maybe I don’t wait for you all to say yes or no, I just do it. Who is anyone to dispute me?”

“Ms. Talfourd, if you choose to engage in reckless behaviour, your opportunities to perform will certainly be limited. You said you were from Paramount? Mr. Brock is a model example of someone willing to uphold the values of EWC,” Eve smirks, “Perhaps your matches and appearance time on Paramount will be reflective of your choices?”

“My matches? I know what this company has in store for me already. Mercenary has his title shot still hanging over. Reid gets a rematch because he couldn’t beat Mercenary. After those two, this company will be looking for just about any half-brained hack to come and try and get the belt off me just so EWC stays the same. If this company did what was right, Captain Darkwater would be in the ring with me the first chance this company has! But no, we don’t want something new or interesting at EWC,” Sally smirks back, “So perhaps I find a General Manager who understands where I’m coming from? Who appreciates my perspective a little more? I’m sure I could find someone who shares my vision for EWC?”

The executives exchange heated glances, the atmosphere thick with animosity. The room resonates with the echoes of shattered negotiations, a battlefield where two worlds clashed and left scars in their wake. The extravagant ideas, the absurd proposals – all reduced to rubble.

Sally looks in the eyes of each of the executives one last time, getting their measure. Sensing no budge, not change, she waves them all off with a gesture of her hand, “This has been a waste of time, you’re right. Later losers.”

As Sally makes for the door, the executives exchange glares that speak volumes of resentment. The boardroom, once a symbol of power, now bears witness to the fallout of a negotiation that spiralled into hostility and mutual disdain. Before she can leave, however, Eve calls out, “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

She nods at the EWC Undisputed Championship belt, still sitting on the table. Sally looks, then starts rummaging around in her pockets. She finds a crumbled up dollar bill and throws it towards the table, “Here you go, get one of your lackeys to bring it to my hotel. Leave it at reception if I’m not back yet.”

The door slams shut. The city outside, oblivious to the drama within, continues its relentless pace, indifferent to the surreal clash that unfolded in the luxurious boardroom.