Post by Henry Lee Hyde on Mar 1, 2022 12:57:23 GMT -5
HENRY LEE HYDE.
NEVER WOKE UP.
FALLOUT XXI: A NEW ERA BEGINS.
[ON/OFF] SCENE ONE
As the tape spits out of the TV, there's a silence in Henry's apartment. Like glass, murky like the sun soaking through the drawn curtains, and it shatters the same when Sherry speaks up from her desk behind Henry.
“Did that seem like a hostage video to you? Because it definitely gave me hostage vibes.”
Henry turns to his informant, brow furrowed. “This ain't the time to joke, Sherry.”
She shrugs. “I'm just pointing it out. Mike sounded like he was completely out of it. You said that's what he was like when he got kidnapped by Wright, so–”
“I don't know if this is all because of him.” Retrieving the tape, Henry brings it back to the stack he's laid out on the desk, the rest unwatched as of now. The USB that was stowed away with them too remains untouched, Sherry wary of viruses. Alongside them, Mike's fractured camera. “Wright likes spectacles, games. This doesn't feel like him, even with all the...mystery.”
“Then who could it be?”
“Wright seems focused on Billy, not crossed paths with either since Fallout XIX. Angelo...he's gone off the rails, but I don't think this would be his kind of game.”
“Are you sure it's even someone in Project: Honor?”
“I'm Gatekeeper Champion and I'm on Fallout. Those fuckers will do anything for a bit of glory. Maybe it could be–”
He's cut off by the ringing of the phone, another curse that came with the tapes. Ear-piercing in its volume, a screech. Henry almost breaks it in his harsh grip and when he sees the number – the same one that had called at the start of all this, and never again since – it only tightens. A simple message reads:
>Time to follow.
Along with an address neither Henry nor Sherry recognise.
“It could be a trap,” she says, quick, as she begins typing the address into her computer.
“It's one of the few things we've got.”
An abandoned building, Sherry's search finds. That's the most they've got. Even the Google Maps images, drenched in daylight, aren't generous with it.
But Henry doesn't have time to worry about that, how suspicious this all is. “Review the USB that came with the tapes – we'll continue with those when I get back,” he says, pulling on a jacket and pocketing the phone, already moving towards the front door. “Send me everything you have on Wright and Candi, as it comes in. Any updates on Mike too. I'm gonna go follow this lead.”
“Did that seem like a hostage video to you? Because it definitely gave me hostage vibes.”
Henry turns to his informant, brow furrowed. “This ain't the time to joke, Sherry.”
She shrugs. “I'm just pointing it out. Mike sounded like he was completely out of it. You said that's what he was like when he got kidnapped by Wright, so–”
“I don't know if this is all because of him.” Retrieving the tape, Henry brings it back to the stack he's laid out on the desk, the rest unwatched as of now. The USB that was stowed away with them too remains untouched, Sherry wary of viruses. Alongside them, Mike's fractured camera. “Wright likes spectacles, games. This doesn't feel like him, even with all the...mystery.”
“Then who could it be?”
“Wright seems focused on Billy, not crossed paths with either since Fallout XIX. Angelo...he's gone off the rails, but I don't think this would be his kind of game.”
“Are you sure it's even someone in Project: Honor?”
“I'm Gatekeeper Champion and I'm on Fallout. Those fuckers will do anything for a bit of glory. Maybe it could be–”
He's cut off by the ringing of the phone, another curse that came with the tapes. Ear-piercing in its volume, a screech. Henry almost breaks it in his harsh grip and when he sees the number – the same one that had called at the start of all this, and never again since – it only tightens. A simple message reads:
>Time to follow.
Along with an address neither Henry nor Sherry recognise.
“It could be a trap,” she says, quick, as she begins typing the address into her computer.
“It's one of the few things we've got.”
An abandoned building, Sherry's search finds. That's the most they've got. Even the Google Maps images, drenched in daylight, aren't generous with it.
But Henry doesn't have time to worry about that, how suspicious this all is. “Review the USB that came with the tapes – we'll continue with those when I get back,” he says, pulling on a jacket and pocketing the phone, already moving towards the front door. “Send me everything you have on Wright and Candi, as it comes in. Any updates on Mike too. I'm gonna go follow this lead.”
[ON/OFF] SCENE TWO
Under the cover of day, there should be some sense of protection. Nightmares don't roam here, can't catch you under the sun's gaze. But as Henry drives into the parking lot of the abandoned building – 'Starkman Machinery Co.' written in worn paint across the front wall – he can't help but scan every corner. His isn't the only car that sits amongst the cracked concrete and clawing weeds. He watches each of them for a few seconds, tries to find a person behind the windows glazed with sunlight or darkened intentionally by the owner.
No one.
But the buzz of the phone in his pocket feels planned, convenient if not done manually, prompted by a fixed aim set upon him.
>You can go up to the front door when I tell you.
A glance at the building finds the front door, rusted, bending under the weight of crumbling bricks. But another buzz of the phone draws Henry's attention away. An image comes through – the card for Fallout XXI, along with another message.
>Don't forget your job. If only someone was there to film your promo.
Another glance around the parking lot reveals no figures, no watchers. Henry checks his mirrors, tries to spot anything, anyone around. No sign of whoever's doing this.
But clearly they're watching him.
>Act normal. Film a video.
“You mother...”
The words tremble as his hand does, phone resolute under the pressure of his grip. He could throw it out the window, smash it against the asphalt and laugh over it's broken shell. But it's the only lifeline he's got right now, the only contact with whoever's behind all this.
So instead he tucks it back deep into his pocket, grabs his own phone and starts up the camera.
No one.
But the buzz of the phone in his pocket feels planned, convenient if not done manually, prompted by a fixed aim set upon him.
>You can go up to the front door when I tell you.
A glance at the building finds the front door, rusted, bending under the weight of crumbling bricks. But another buzz of the phone draws Henry's attention away. An image comes through – the card for Fallout XXI, along with another message.
>Don't forget your job. If only someone was there to film your promo.
Another glance around the parking lot reveals no figures, no watchers. Henry checks his mirrors, tries to spot anything, anyone around. No sign of whoever's doing this.
But clearly they're watching him.
>Act normal. Film a video.
“You mother...”
The words tremble as his hand does, phone resolute under the pressure of his grip. He could throw it out the window, smash it against the asphalt and laugh over it's broken shell. But it's the only lifeline he's got right now, the only contact with whoever's behind all this.
So instead he tucks it back deep into his pocket, grabs his own phone and starts up the camera.
[ON/OFF] SCENE THREE
The footage is grainy, not very well-lit at all, even under the cover of the sun. And when Henry moves, even breathes, the image blurs as if unreal. But through the dull colours and the noise, Henry's deep scowl, the dark of his eyes, can be seen clearly.
"Crowning II, I proved I'm deserving of the Gatekeeper Championship. Two former champions and neither could keep me down."
"Let's call that evolution in action. Progress."
"I've pulled this title up from the primordial mud, from the blood of True Society - look at it now. Got that nice, warm glow you get when you come home. Bright smile on it's faceplate."
"But now I have to get it dirty again. A 33 Weapons match - new to me."
"What's not new is the bloodshed. The sweat, the dirt under my nails, the oozing wounds in my skin, that's not new to me at all. It's a part of success. It's why I've held onto this title thus far, why I even won it in the first place. Drive, power, hunger. Behind every bright smile? Teeth that tear, a tongue just as lethal."
"And these teeth have ripped through greater meals than Latoya Hixx. Yet here she is, challenging for my title."
Henry shakes his head, smile as wry as could be.
"What is it, fifteen or something losses, zero wins in and you think you can beat me?" A laugh, hollow of any mirth. "I mean that's bravery, I'll give you that. Brave of you to still be here on Fallout even. Lesser competitors would've walked away by now.”
“But it's stupidity to think you're in any position to succeed. Everything is stacked against you. Your record, your attitude, your delusion. I mean, we've seen upsets. And some might say you can only go up from here. But you keep going down and down. This point you ain't six feet under, you're digging your way to China.”
Henry rolls his own eyes at that one.
“Cliched, right? Let me break it down like this then. My last defence of this title? I defeated two former champions cleanly. One before that? I knocked John Blade fully out with a single headbutt. Same one I used to knock out the current Noble or whatever Champion. In other words, my skull alone has knocked more people on their asses than you have here. You could cut my head from my shoulders, throw it into a crowd, and it'd still KO more people than Latoya's ever beaten in Project: Honor.”
“But maybe that's not right of me to say. Maybe I'm getting too carried away – it's easy to do, you're on a roll, you can get too into yourself. End of the day though, I have a title to defend, a reputation to uphold, and a role to fulfil. If someone with no wins thinks they're eligible to be a 'gatekeeper', then it's clear I need to be defending that title harder. Fixing and upholding standards around here a little more.”
“'33 Weapons'? You're gonna need more than that to keep me down, Latoya. And me?”
“Way things are going, I just need one," he taps his temple, scoffs, "to beat you.”
"Crowning II, I proved I'm deserving of the Gatekeeper Championship. Two former champions and neither could keep me down."
"Let's call that evolution in action. Progress."
"I've pulled this title up from the primordial mud, from the blood of True Society - look at it now. Got that nice, warm glow you get when you come home. Bright smile on it's faceplate."
"But now I have to get it dirty again. A 33 Weapons match - new to me."
"What's not new is the bloodshed. The sweat, the dirt under my nails, the oozing wounds in my skin, that's not new to me at all. It's a part of success. It's why I've held onto this title thus far, why I even won it in the first place. Drive, power, hunger. Behind every bright smile? Teeth that tear, a tongue just as lethal."
"And these teeth have ripped through greater meals than Latoya Hixx. Yet here she is, challenging for my title."
Henry shakes his head, smile as wry as could be.
"What is it, fifteen or something losses, zero wins in and you think you can beat me?" A laugh, hollow of any mirth. "I mean that's bravery, I'll give you that. Brave of you to still be here on Fallout even. Lesser competitors would've walked away by now.”
“But it's stupidity to think you're in any position to succeed. Everything is stacked against you. Your record, your attitude, your delusion. I mean, we've seen upsets. And some might say you can only go up from here. But you keep going down and down. This point you ain't six feet under, you're digging your way to China.”
Henry rolls his own eyes at that one.
“Cliched, right? Let me break it down like this then. My last defence of this title? I defeated two former champions cleanly. One before that? I knocked John Blade fully out with a single headbutt. Same one I used to knock out the current Noble or whatever Champion. In other words, my skull alone has knocked more people on their asses than you have here. You could cut my head from my shoulders, throw it into a crowd, and it'd still KO more people than Latoya's ever beaten in Project: Honor.”
“But maybe that's not right of me to say. Maybe I'm getting too carried away – it's easy to do, you're on a roll, you can get too into yourself. End of the day though, I have a title to defend, a reputation to uphold, and a role to fulfil. If someone with no wins thinks they're eligible to be a 'gatekeeper', then it's clear I need to be defending that title harder. Fixing and upholding standards around here a little more.”
“'33 Weapons'? You're gonna need more than that to keep me down, Latoya. And me?”
“Way things are going, I just need one," he taps his temple, scoffs, "to beat you.”
[ON/OFF] SCENE FOUR
Henry turns the phone camera off with an impatient jab, barely shoving his phone away before feeling the second vibrate from where it's buried in his pocket.
>You can go up to the front door now.
At another time, Henry would probably be scoffing at his obedience. But as he steps out the car, all he can focus on is his surroundings. No new cars, no new faces. The building remains as it was, and Henry marches into its shadow, fists curled, eyes open and scanning.
The front door holds tight despite its weathered appearance, chained and padlocked. As Henry looks around for a window that isn't boarded up, a second door, he notices the cameras watching from high up on the building. All seemingly turned on him.
And just on cue, another message.
>Oops, I forgot about the key. Best go find that.
And another address.
One that drains the colour from Henry's face.
>You can go up to the front door now.
At another time, Henry would probably be scoffing at his obedience. But as he steps out the car, all he can focus on is his surroundings. No new cars, no new faces. The building remains as it was, and Henry marches into its shadow, fists curled, eyes open and scanning.
The front door holds tight despite its weathered appearance, chained and padlocked. As Henry looks around for a window that isn't boarded up, a second door, he notices the cameras watching from high up on the building. All seemingly turned on him.
And just on cue, another message.
>Oops, I forgot about the key. Best go find that.
And another address.
One that drains the colour from Henry's face.
[ON/OFF] SCENE FIVE
The click of the revolver chamber echoes in the silence as unfamiliar, tattooed hands ready it for violence. Surrounding it are bullets, some slugs, and photos.
And stacks, stacks of tapes. Some labelled with dates, some titles, and some with the photos themselves. The VHS player buried under them is covered in scratched-up stickers, battered and dusty – who needs a fucking VHS player in 2022? – but it's necessary. One of the only forms of communication with the informant.
The other is the phone they sent. Its buzz dull against the table.
Hesitant fingers find its message.
>Hyde's on his way to yours.
>Strike now?
>No. Soon.
END.
