Post by Havoc on Nov 21, 2021 13:02:15 GMT -5
“I really can’t stay…. Baby, it’s cold outside”
A soft whisper echoes under a gloomy night sky as the scene begins outside an unfamiliar building at an unknown location. The song was devoid of any Christmas cheer, as the camera approached the building. A homeless man can be seen camping outside of it, being the source of the carol. Right as the camera is about to enter the building, the homeless man springs back up to his feet and stares daggers into the camera.
“No entry.”
He declared, acting as a human barrier to stop anybody from entering through. The cameraman tries to sidestep and throw wind to the caution, only for the homeless man to tightly clutch his ankles. We only get to see a tiny glimpse of the struggle between the two as the camera is flung all over, making it impossible to capture anything of value. Moments pass and it seems like the homeless man has given up. He lied bloodied by the roadside, with a devious smile plastered over his face.
“Don’t say that I didn’t warn you.”
We see the brave cameraman enter the abandoned building, turning on his night-vision filter so that the audience can see what is being captured. Nothing but rubble and muddled floors, with leaking ceilings and moss growing all around the household. A small crack on the ceiling lets moonlight leak through, illuminating the otherwise dark house.
The camera turns around the corridor and opens the doorway at the end of the hallway. As the door is flung open, a horrifying sight is captured on the camera. Mangled bodies hanging from the ceiling, missing limbs that are scattered all around the floor. Blood-soaked walls scream of horror as the cameraman almost trips over a mangled corpse on the floor, letting out a blood-curdling scream.
And then it was all over-- The camera turns into static and muffled screams fade away into the darkness… Until it didn’t. The feed returns back from the camera, as it is now being placed on a table. We see a flimsy light bulb hanging from the ceiling over a metallic frame, what appears to be an old operation table. Lying on this table was an unfamiliar face, that can be assumed to be the cameraman from earlier. He has been strapped tightly onto the table, with a piece of cloth shoved down his throat to stop him from screaming his guts out. As the oscillating lightbulb comes to a stop, a hand appears over the table as the camera now captures the image of the culprit. Havoc, steps out of the shadows, with his face dripping with blood and his eyes full of lust looking at his next potential victim. Has a large meat cleaver in his hand, already bloodied up by the previous encounters he has had with strangers stumbling down to his lair. Havoc licks the cleaver clean, tasting the blood of the fallen victims that came before as his strapped victim lets out a scream, to no avail.
“Should have listened to the homeless guy, eh?”
Havoc let out a spine-chilling laugh that only added to the horrific atmosphere. His victim, now begging for mercy, promises to not let anybody in on this secret.
“That’s a great offer that you make! But over my years in this world, I have learned not to trust people. You may promise to not tell the authorities or forget about this night-- But there’s one way I can guarantee that you NEVER open your mouth again. I am not a gambling man… Your efforts will be remembered through this camera that you brought me. I will record your last moments on this God-forsaken planet and cherish them for years to come. This brings me satisfaction like no other. Mauling people into submission is fun and all but my blood lust is never quenched through these monitored scenarios. I need to be let free. The only time I feel ALIVE is when I have somebody else’s life hanging in the balance with me in control of it all. I love to hear them scream-- I love to hear them beg for mercy. It’s such a PLEASURABLE experience. Don’t you agree?”
Havoc questioned as the muffled screams grew louder. A smirk appears on his demented face as he examines the body of his victim-to-be.
“The feeling of somebody else’s blood on your hands as they take their final breath before you SQUEEZE that out of them-- That gets my blood flowing in the right places. I am fascinated by death having been surrounded by it for as long as I can remember. I wonder what it feels like to be on the other side. I would love to know what’s going inside your mind right now, knowing that your end is near. The fear-- that gives me strength. Such a raw feeling cannot be replicated through other means. The funny thing is, that the world would love to label me as a terrorist. As a menace to society. A wanted criminal. But what about the people that pay MONEY to watch this as entertainment? I am a fighter right-- Every day I am fighting for my position in the company, putting my life on the line. Say what you want about Pyro, but his career ended in an INSTANT! And the people just watched and paid good money to enjoy his lifelong dream coming to an end. What if it was the wrong bone? What if it wasn’t just his career that was lost that day? Would the people bat an eye? Would they care that this pyromaniac has been put into the grave for their own entertainment?! No! And now, we find ourselves in another death-defying situation. We’re not just encouraged to fight-- We are set loose! Masters of our destiny. Must-watch programming because there are REAL stakes involved. Lives are on the line and people want to see the WORST happen. Whether they admit it or not, they are as fucked in the head as I am! Who am I to deny the people what they want, right?”
Havoc uttered those words nonchalantly before taking his cleaver and driving it into the shoulder of his victim. From the camera angle presented to the viewer, all you could see is blood splattering onto the bare chest of Havoc as he dug deeper, crushing through the bones and tearing his victim, limb for limb. The screams that followed turned into tears as acceptance started to settle in. The worst was happening and the man couldn’t do anything about it. The pain was unfathomable, which eventually made the man lose his consciousness.
“Everybody wishes they could have control over other people’s lives. You feel like a GOD! This man could be at his house with his family but he’s lying here, bleeding to death. I did that! I molded his fate to how I seemed fit. That is TRUE power. Something that I have been denied ever since I stepped foot in Project Honor. They didn’t want to unleash me to the world for they were scared! Terrified of the possibilities that followed and perhaps, they were right! Every time I tried to quench my eternal thirst for blood, I was denied. I was told that it was too far. There are kids watching at home… BULLSHIT! I am fighting for my life every single day amidst trained killers! Why are they suppressing our natural instinct in a fight or flight situation? I don’t want to run. I don’t want to hide. I don’t WANT people to survive a fucking deathmatch! There’s death in the name of it and all we are doing is cutting each other up and then mending our wounds in the back. That’s not a fight to the death. That’s not what we’re here for. You can’t half-ass the type of programming that you want to offer to the sick twisted fucks that watch the show. If Fallout is about the dark twisted minds that exist in this world, then go all out with it! GIVE US WHAT WE WANT! I WANT BLOOD! I WANT TO SLIT THEIR THROATS AND PULL THEIR FUCKING SPINE OUT! That’s what the people tune it to see. When you promise them a killer on the loose-- don’t give them a fucking clown with a cleaver. DELIVER ON WHAT YOU PROMISE! Christian DeMarco made it all play-fight. It was just an aesthetic that he was banking on to get these twisted fucking people to pay to watch his shit-show. Of course, they’d be disappointed with what he offered. Know your audience!”
Blood erratically splattered on the walls as Havoc continued to play with his victim. The sound of metal meeting flesh and slicing through it was sickening to its very core but Havoc continued on with a smile on his face.
“I don’t want to hide in these abandoned fucking torture-house to fulfill my blood-lust. I felt trapped under the reign of DeMarco but there was a voice of reason looming in the shadows. The moment Arik Holt found me, he knew exactly what he had to do. He unleashed me to the world and it immediately bore fruit! I had been promising the world that I would put an end to Jason Long’s Cinderella story and I did just that. It isn’t about the piece of gold for me. It’s what it stands for! The Prime Championship is still incomplete in my eyes. I need to paint it in a color more appropriate to my brand. I want to drown the title in a bucket full of Jason Long’s blood. That’s what it is to me! His loss. His suffering. That’s what it stands for. His REAWAKENING! He continues to hide and run away from the darkness but it’s time to embrace it for what it is! You were a Prince to me for a reason. IT IS TIME TO BE A KING! But he’s bound to the shackles or false pretense with Savannah Sunshine, who just continues to hold him back. Michael Bishop joins the fray and continues to brainwash him into believing everything can be solved with an AR-15. I wish he would riddle me with bullets because I haven’t felt pain in a LONG time. But I’d spit out those bullets and feed it back to his so-called family. He’s expecting a baby soon, so now is not the time to be reckless. But this reckless abandon that Michael possesses makes him a wonderful tool to satisfy ALL of my needs. I don’t want somebody who’d give up at the brink of death-- I want a bad motherfucker who’d fight for his fucking life till his soul has been devoured. Jason Long is too busy fighting the dark thoughts in his head to be a suitable plaything. Bishop is feisty-- And I’d like to take a bite out of that.”
Bones can be heard twisting and cracking as Havoc uses force to tear his victim apart. He wipes his sweat with his bloody hands, leaving the victim’s blood on his forehead that trickles down his face.
“When Arik told me about the Purge, I asked him if it’d be the same old watered-down that DeMarco presented last year. I was more than delighted to hear what he had in mind. There’s only one thing that people need to know. The Purge this year isn’t a spectacle for the Fallout wrestlers to climb up the ranks. It may sound like it on paper but what it truly is… a demonstration. We now know what MOST of the people in the locker room think about the True Society. The lines have been drawn! There are already people lining up to take us down. But the thing is, The Purge is our way of ELIMINATING such threats. Arik unleashed me onto this world-- Do you think he was planning on holding back for the fucking Purge?! If you’re not with us-- You’re fucking dead. That’s what this is! An easy way to get rid of EVERYBODY who stands against us in one swoop. I am fucking tired of killing these no-names fucks that the world doesn’t care about. I want some REAL casualties. I would do anything to hang Savannah’s Sunshine’s rotting corpse on my wall like a trophy. Or play ball with Michael Bishop’s fat fucking head. Pull Angelo Caito’s tracks out and play jump with it. WHO THE FUCK IS GOING TO STOP ME?! And even if they try, I’ve got an army full of people standing by my side to tear you into pieces. The True Society doesn’t stand for weakness… It’s not for the faint of heart. If you’re not about that fucking life, then you can join the list of casualties that are about to line up.”
Speaking of tearing it into pieces, it appears that Havoc grabs the mutilated limbs of his victim and throws it across the room with no disregard. Now drenched in his victim’s blood, a sense of Euphoria overtakes his body as a sick twisted smile of satisfaction appears on his crimson face. He starts breathing heavily as he slams the cleaver into the gut of the mangled corpse, striking down with little to no resistance. With an orgasmic sense of satisfaction on his face, he repeatedly slams the cleaver into the body as it turned into a bloody mush.
“I can’t wait to feel this sense of euphoria flowing into my body as I choke the life out of Alyssa Grace. Mr. Wakefield will have to find himself a new bride if Alyssa decides to go against the world of the True Society. Or Remi Skyfire, looking to make her triumphant debut. It’d be a shame to cut it short-- She’s got a whole life ahead of her. So much to look forward to! Do not be foolish and fall into the trenches like Michael Bishop or Julius Fairweather. Taking their lives is our utmost priority. We cannot entertain an uprising at this stage when we have FAR MORE important things to worry about. I heard a couple of brave souls are stepping out of their safe haven in Proving Ground and facing a real challenge for once. There is nothing more exhilarating than fighting for your own life, so I am sure Emmanuelle will enjoy this far more than our previous encounters. It’s crazy how the bodies have lined up for us! So many irrelevant names on the book whose existence is merely dragging the company down with them. Darwinism at its finest. They will fight till they can and eventually they’ll fall prey to the True Society. It may be every man or woman for themselves but that’s not what it is to us. Whalan, Minnesota is a glorified Slaughterhouse for the mindless sheep that were dumb enough to fall into our trap. It’s like they’re forgetting who’s in charge.”
Havoc stops in his tracks and admires his handiwork. He touches the tip of his tongue with his bloodied finger and deeply analyzes what he just tasted, like a wine connoisseur.
“I guess I killed him too early. The fear couldn’t materialize in his body-- Dammit. He gave up too easily. Luckily enough, I won’t have to worry about that with Savannah Sunshine. Say what you want about that crackhead, but she’s got some fight in her. No wonder Jason keeps her around-- or whatever the situation is between them at this point. Arik told me a lot about Savannah… Things that only he knows about her. I am sure Jason would love to be wary of the knowledge that I possess. It might help him out on putting a leash on that bitch. Speaking of my dear beloved, Jason Long… I am sure he is revenge in his little mind. The poor soul has gone through a lot over the past couple of weeks. Loss after loss. It really weighs you down, doesn’t it? Luckily, Whalan can be our personal canvas! I would love to paint that city in the blood of my dear beloved. I give him my permission to torture me to his heart’s content! Come on, Jason. I know you want to. I want to feel the pain that motherfuckers like you feel on a daily basis. I want to relate to your measly existence. Perhaps, that will make our bond even stronger! I want the world to see the REAL Jason Long that I have known about since the day I met you. You’re a sick, twisted fucking madman just like me. But you’re holding back because of the people that you surround yourself with. It’s a fucking shame. Arik wanted you dead but I have my reasons to keep you around. I’ll fight for YOUR life if it comes to it. You’re MINE! Only I hold the power to take that life away from you. That includes yourself…”
Havoc now gets closer to the face of his victim, taking out the blood-soaked cloth that was stuffed down his throat. He starts to carve around the face carefully.
“It may be called the SECOND Annual Purge but this year isn’t going to resemble the last one in any sort of way. The ‘Purge’ here stands for the True Society purging Project Honor of the unwanted weeds that have infested this locker room. And all these new faces looking to make an impact-- I am sorry but this is the end of your journey…. Unless you make the wise decision of joining us. Sawyer, I sense the unhinged depravity from you that I once felt inside Jason Long. You’d be a fine specimen to mold into a monster that this world would come to fear. I would say the same about Michael Bishop but he’s too busy sucking up to Savannah Sunshine. What is the basis of this friendship anyway? She’s a fucking crazy bitch hellbent on ruining your friend’s life and you announce her to be your child’s future Godmother? Won’t be winning any Father of the Year awards in the future, mate. You’d be lucky enough to have a future with where you’re heading. It’s always you, isn’t it? Batting for the wrong fucking team. Just like Asher. A complete fucking brat that has inherited all the terrible characteristics from his sister. A brick to his head wasn’t enough to steer him clear from this fucking show? Well, looks like there’s not much going in that head, to begin with. Dumb motherfuckers like him will DIE a gruesome fucking death because they don’t know their place.”
It’s almost like Havoc has been working on a masterpiece. His eyes glow bright red as he stares at the final product.
“Something seems to be missing. Ah, I know!”
He digs deep into the gut to get a handful of blood that he uses to draw something on the victim’s face.
“Wonderful! It’s about time that I am set free. It’s about time that I can be what I truly am. A fucking killer. A monster. A menace to the fucking world. The Purge will be the blank fucking canvas that I have been wanting for a LONG time. And I am about to deliver on a masterpiece that the world will remember! All your favorites will come in, as bold as they can be. They’d have a strategy in mind to walk out as the winner. They’d want to win titles, that I don’t give a fuck about. They’d want to be remembered! Well, I will provide them with all of that! An opportunity to be brave. An opportunity to be immortalized for the True Society! Whalan, Minnesota will be the breeding ground for the future of Project Honor. An earth-shattering movement that will spring out of the dominance at display by the True Society. This is OUR world. The rest of you have to play by OUR rules or die trying. The burden on my shoulder has been lifted. Arik has made me into a free man. I am ready to KILL. I am ready to feel ALIVE again.”
Havoc carefully grabs something off the table and lifts it into the view of the camera. A horrifying sight follows as the face of his victim has been peeled off his skull and being branded as a mask. Havoc puts it on with a demented smile on his face. The words True Society were written in blood on his forehead and a fake ear-to-ear smile drawn in to boot. Lightning strikes in the background as we suddenly see a legion of people standing behind him, all wearing Purge masks labeled with the words True Society. All of them were equipped with weapons of every kind. Havoc lifts the blood-ridden Prime Championship and drapes it over his shoulder.
“Let’s play…”
The demonic words of the Nightmare King echo throughout the dark hallway of the abandoned house as the camera fades to black.
