Post by Henry Lee Hyde on Mar 29, 2022 12:46:00 GMT -5
[ON/OFF] SCENE ONE
The nightmares have never gone away. There was a time when Henry fooled himself into thinking they had.
They were only waiting.
Henry's standing before it, the monolith of his nightmares. The red door again. Not drawn out by drugs, hallucinations. But by fear. Failure. With it, voices. Wright, Candi. Mike. Begging Henry to open the door.
Telling him he's a failure. Losing to Tate Selby? What a waste of a Gatekeeper Champion. To lose to a newcomer, proving that the past is all he'll ever beat. Not the future. And what kind of 'gatekeeper' is that? What kind of person is that – someone who'll never progress, evolve, move beyond the stagnant waters he's drowning in.
Worst part is, he's starting to believe those voices.
He's always stood in front of the door in his dreams. Gone to open it, but never seen past the threshold. Never faced those voices, never understood what they offer him in order to progress. Become more.
Maybe it's time to take a step forward.
They were only waiting.
Henry's standing before it, the monolith of his nightmares. The red door again. Not drawn out by drugs, hallucinations. But by fear. Failure. With it, voices. Wright, Candi. Mike. Begging Henry to open the door.
Telling him he's a failure. Losing to Tate Selby? What a waste of a Gatekeeper Champion. To lose to a newcomer, proving that the past is all he'll ever beat. Not the future. And what kind of 'gatekeeper' is that? What kind of person is that – someone who'll never progress, evolve, move beyond the stagnant waters he's drowning in.
Worst part is, he's starting to believe those voices.
He's always stood in front of the door in his dreams. Gone to open it, but never seen past the threshold. Never faced those voices, never understood what they offer him in order to progress. Become more.
Maybe it's time to take a step forward.
HENRY LEE HYDE.
THE HUNTER, HUNTED.
FALLOUT XXIII: NEW LEGACY.
[ON/OFF] SCENE TWO
Henry hesitates again outside this door - in his waking nightmare. The old building is still standing, just, bricks bowing under the weight of the structure. The thick chains and padlock still snake around the door handles.
The key to the lock trapped between Henry's fingers. Safe after he recovered it from one of Victor's men. He huffs out a long-held breath and pierces the lock, the chains trembling and crying in protest as he pulls them loose, lets them hit the concrete with a dull thud.
The long, metallic creak of the doors breaks the dead silence. Dust dances in the cracks of sunlight that spear through the roof and windows. The walls are blackened and bloodied by rust, ash, time. And each step feels untrustworthy, the cracks in the floor running deep and far, whispering to each other as they cross paths and shatter the concrete tiles, hide under dirt and debris.
Cracks aren't the only ones hiding here. In such an open space, even breathing echoes, and Henry hears the rasp of someone else deep in the building. He stalks the breaths up a set of shuddering steel steps, some missing, and across the ribcage of what was once an office floor.
And there, sitting amongst a fort of upturned cabinets, papers and rubble, surrounded by TV screens, Henry finds him. Mike.
Untouched. Unbothered.
As Henry nears, he catches glimpses of the screens: they depict the outside of the very building Henry stands in, Victor's house he crept through. Henry's own apartment – the outside, shrouded in mist, but no less spine-chilling.
“What the fuck is this?” is all Henry can say as he comes to stand before Mike, the two locking eyes. There's a glaze to Mike's, a fog hanging over them.
“It's the only way I knew how to get to you,” Mike mumbles, returning his gaze to one of the many cameras.
“Making me play a game? Pretending to be Mr. Wright?”
Mike flinches at that name, his laugh fractured. “You still didn't play it properly. I bet you didn't even watch the rest of the tapes, did you?”
“I didn't watch them 'cause I was more concerned about you.” Henry grabs Mike's chair and turns him around to face him. “I thought you'd been kidnapped again.”
“You never saved me the first time, you know. You abandoned me like you abandon everything in your life. Your career prospects, your status as a champion, your family.”
It's so much like the voices in his nightmares. The doubts, the criticism. But these are real and they sting, swell deep under Henry's tense skin, threaten to burst.
“This isn't you,” Henry hisses. “It's Wright, or whatever those drugs were he used on you. You found them again, didn't you?”
“It's the truth, Henry.” Mike's eyes narrow. “Remember all the times you abandoned me, let me sink into the shadows? I wanted to help you promo, wanted to tell you everything I knew about the people on Fallout. It was for you, but it was also for me. To give me a chance to pull myself out of the nightmares. But you were so focused on anything but Project: Honor. You denied me the chance to escape Wright. You just kept falling down the hole; your targets, then him.”
“Part of me wondered if you becoming a champ would change something. But you're not a champion. You're obsessed. Obsessed with a guy who had you matched, a guy that doesn't think about you any more because he's a champion in his own right now too. You should be focusing on yourself, but you can't.”
Mike stands, jabbing a finger in Henry's chest.
“And you know what's gonna happen if you keep doing this? You're gonna lose everything. Not just the title, your matches, your career, but everything. Everyone. You've already lost me–”
“You're not lost.”
There's a silence as Mike stares off, Henry watching the slight twitch of his eyes across the room.
“I almost opened it, you know?”
And Henry knows exactly what he's talking about. Can hear those voices again. The door.
“I didn't know what it was at first. Where it was. But it's here.” He points off to the far wall, where a door lies locked, boarded-up. Light creeping through its cracks.
“You can go through there, become the shell of yourself Wright wants you to be. What you probably wanna be, deep down – I know you've seen it too. Or you can go there.” He nods towards a specific screen, one Henry steps closer to.
Holds his breath when he sees him.
Victor, gun in hand. Outside Henry's apartment building. The camera sits angled enough to just see the windows of his home, curtains drawn, but he knows who's inside.
It doesn't matter now who put Mike up to this. If he did it himself.
It needs to end now.
“You gotta wake up, Henry. Open the door.”
The key to the lock trapped between Henry's fingers. Safe after he recovered it from one of Victor's men. He huffs out a long-held breath and pierces the lock, the chains trembling and crying in protest as he pulls them loose, lets them hit the concrete with a dull thud.
The long, metallic creak of the doors breaks the dead silence. Dust dances in the cracks of sunlight that spear through the roof and windows. The walls are blackened and bloodied by rust, ash, time. And each step feels untrustworthy, the cracks in the floor running deep and far, whispering to each other as they cross paths and shatter the concrete tiles, hide under dirt and debris.
Cracks aren't the only ones hiding here. In such an open space, even breathing echoes, and Henry hears the rasp of someone else deep in the building. He stalks the breaths up a set of shuddering steel steps, some missing, and across the ribcage of what was once an office floor.
And there, sitting amongst a fort of upturned cabinets, papers and rubble, surrounded by TV screens, Henry finds him. Mike.
Untouched. Unbothered.
As Henry nears, he catches glimpses of the screens: they depict the outside of the very building Henry stands in, Victor's house he crept through. Henry's own apartment – the outside, shrouded in mist, but no less spine-chilling.
“What the fuck is this?” is all Henry can say as he comes to stand before Mike, the two locking eyes. There's a glaze to Mike's, a fog hanging over them.
“It's the only way I knew how to get to you,” Mike mumbles, returning his gaze to one of the many cameras.
“Making me play a game? Pretending to be Mr. Wright?”
Mike flinches at that name, his laugh fractured. “You still didn't play it properly. I bet you didn't even watch the rest of the tapes, did you?”
“I didn't watch them 'cause I was more concerned about you.” Henry grabs Mike's chair and turns him around to face him. “I thought you'd been kidnapped again.”
“You never saved me the first time, you know. You abandoned me like you abandon everything in your life. Your career prospects, your status as a champion, your family.”
It's so much like the voices in his nightmares. The doubts, the criticism. But these are real and they sting, swell deep under Henry's tense skin, threaten to burst.
“This isn't you,” Henry hisses. “It's Wright, or whatever those drugs were he used on you. You found them again, didn't you?”
“It's the truth, Henry.” Mike's eyes narrow. “Remember all the times you abandoned me, let me sink into the shadows? I wanted to help you promo, wanted to tell you everything I knew about the people on Fallout. It was for you, but it was also for me. To give me a chance to pull myself out of the nightmares. But you were so focused on anything but Project: Honor. You denied me the chance to escape Wright. You just kept falling down the hole; your targets, then him.”
“Part of me wondered if you becoming a champ would change something. But you're not a champion. You're obsessed. Obsessed with a guy who had you matched, a guy that doesn't think about you any more because he's a champion in his own right now too. You should be focusing on yourself, but you can't.”
Mike stands, jabbing a finger in Henry's chest.
“And you know what's gonna happen if you keep doing this? You're gonna lose everything. Not just the title, your matches, your career, but everything. Everyone. You've already lost me–”
“You're not lost.”
There's a silence as Mike stares off, Henry watching the slight twitch of his eyes across the room.
“I almost opened it, you know?”
And Henry knows exactly what he's talking about. Can hear those voices again. The door.
“I didn't know what it was at first. Where it was. But it's here.” He points off to the far wall, where a door lies locked, boarded-up. Light creeping through its cracks.
“You can go through there, become the shell of yourself Wright wants you to be. What you probably wanna be, deep down – I know you've seen it too. Or you can go there.” He nods towards a specific screen, one Henry steps closer to.
Holds his breath when he sees him.
Victor, gun in hand. Outside Henry's apartment building. The camera sits angled enough to just see the windows of his home, curtains drawn, but he knows who's inside.
It doesn't matter now who put Mike up to this. If he did it himself.
It needs to end now.
“You gotta wake up, Henry. Open the door.”
[ON/OFF] SCENE THREE
There's no gimmicks – not like anyone expected them from Henry. He just paces, stares, rolls a shoulder and thinks through the haze of static on the screen.
“You gotta cut the head off a snake before it bites you.”
He chuckles.
“I acknowledged that manager, trainer, mentor, whatever the fuck Eddie is to Tate. I saw him for the scum, the rot, the rust on a good chain that he is. And I still didn't take him out when I had the chance. So he distracted me and Tate won.”
Stopping in his tracks, Henry stares down the camera.
“But let it be known, that he didn't get the win, and the ticket to this show's main event because of himself. He got there because of me. Because I allowed myself to get distracted, because his manager got to me. Because I gave him the most brutal beating he will ever suffer in his life and he walked away because I allowed him to.”
“So what am I, just some fuckin' stepping stone? Somebody else's path to success? I'm supposed to be a gatekeeper, a standard, not a fuckin' bar for people to jump over.”
“I won't be that. I didn't win this title to become that, and I'm not gonna let it turn me into that. Which is why, despite this match, this stipulation, these opponents, I still gotta be on it.”
Henry shakes his head.
“A 'go to sleep' match? I don't need to anaesthesic to put someone to sleep, I got two built-in anaesthetics right here,” he shows off his fists, shaking under the tension, “but I can follow the rules. And I can't let myself get distracted again. 'Cause this ain't 'last person awake', it's 'first one out'. And even though I've beaten one person here, and the other two ain't gone higher up the card than this, I still gotta be fully in this match.”
“Yuriko Toyama. Toyama, now that name I've heard of. You've spent your short career living in the shadow of your brother – a hard shadow to break out of, I don't hold that against you. And I know, you've had bad luck since coming here. Only one win. Not been in matches that suit your style, been against people with a bit more knowledge of how this place works, what gets wins. But the worst luck for you since coming here? It's being put against me. I don't know what you've done to deserve this – not just a shot at the Gatekeeper title, but a shot at me. Don't even know if the person who put you here liked you or not. 'Cause on one hand, you're getting a shot at something despite showing nothing but resilience. And on the other?”
“You're being put in the ring with someone who has everything to prove. Everything to lose. And we all have preferred matches, styles. Yours is deathmatch wrestling. Mine?” Henry shrugs. “It's just violence. Justified violence. And Yuriko, when you step up to me like I know you will and you feel that wrath, that violence? Just know it's not personal. It's me fixing this title, it's reputation. It's for a good cause.”
"Andrei Sokolov. The Cobra King. Another snake - too many around here. Been living up to the name so far; got a venomous jab. Beat Latoya last show - welcome to the Latoya Losing Streak Club. Win over a former Gatekeeper Champion though, that makes you stand out here. Could be looking at the future in you."
"But like I said: I'm no one's stepping stone. Not any more. Missed your chance through the gate, Andrei, and now you have to pry the key from my cold, dead hands. Bet you'd be willing to kill me, right? Heard you're vicious."
"But viciousness isn't all it takes here. Everyone on Fallout is vicious. What you need, what last show proved to me you need the most, is control. And Andrei, I don't think you can even control yourself, let alone anyone else, with how blinded by bloodlust you are."
“Yuriko, Andrei, you may seem different, but there's similarities. Fresh blood, taste for violence.”
“You've both lost to Earl, too.”
“But Earl, I've beaten you before. In our last title match, Crowning II, you were the one I pinned, not Angelo. You were the final nail in the coffin of your own path to redemption.”
“Sums you up nicely.”
“It's self-sabotage, Earl, that's your problem. You don't evolve. You became the first-ever Gatekeeper Champion with your current attitude – but it's not enough to push you to your second reign. Unless you come out completely new, a brand new bit of life in you, then a loss to you would be regression on my part. So I hope, I hope, you do come out with something new. For both our sakes, for the sake of your future, your career.”
“That pub crawl match, I saw something. A little spark. You were strong enough to outlast four other people. Albeit, none of them had a single win between them heading into the match – but it's a start for you. Means you've got fight, you've got that will to hold on. And in a match like this? That's something to watch out for. That's an opponent that won't be easy to put to sleep.”
“But I know what it takes to put you to sleep, Earl. I've done it before, I'll do it again – literally this time. And either you fall the same you did before, or you struggle and fight. Either way? I'm gonna steal the breath from you with my bare hands.”
“Fun thing about sleep is it brings nightmares. I know them well. And you three?”
“You're gonna see one at Fallout XXIII in the flesh.”
“You gotta cut the head off a snake before it bites you.”
He chuckles.
“I acknowledged that manager, trainer, mentor, whatever the fuck Eddie is to Tate. I saw him for the scum, the rot, the rust on a good chain that he is. And I still didn't take him out when I had the chance. So he distracted me and Tate won.”
Stopping in his tracks, Henry stares down the camera.
“But let it be known, that he didn't get the win, and the ticket to this show's main event because of himself. He got there because of me. Because I allowed myself to get distracted, because his manager got to me. Because I gave him the most brutal beating he will ever suffer in his life and he walked away because I allowed him to.”
“So what am I, just some fuckin' stepping stone? Somebody else's path to success? I'm supposed to be a gatekeeper, a standard, not a fuckin' bar for people to jump over.”
“I won't be that. I didn't win this title to become that, and I'm not gonna let it turn me into that. Which is why, despite this match, this stipulation, these opponents, I still gotta be on it.”
Henry shakes his head.
“A 'go to sleep' match? I don't need to anaesthesic to put someone to sleep, I got two built-in anaesthetics right here,” he shows off his fists, shaking under the tension, “but I can follow the rules. And I can't let myself get distracted again. 'Cause this ain't 'last person awake', it's 'first one out'. And even though I've beaten one person here, and the other two ain't gone higher up the card than this, I still gotta be fully in this match.”
“Yuriko Toyama. Toyama, now that name I've heard of. You've spent your short career living in the shadow of your brother – a hard shadow to break out of, I don't hold that against you. And I know, you've had bad luck since coming here. Only one win. Not been in matches that suit your style, been against people with a bit more knowledge of how this place works, what gets wins. But the worst luck for you since coming here? It's being put against me. I don't know what you've done to deserve this – not just a shot at the Gatekeeper title, but a shot at me. Don't even know if the person who put you here liked you or not. 'Cause on one hand, you're getting a shot at something despite showing nothing but resilience. And on the other?”
“You're being put in the ring with someone who has everything to prove. Everything to lose. And we all have preferred matches, styles. Yours is deathmatch wrestling. Mine?” Henry shrugs. “It's just violence. Justified violence. And Yuriko, when you step up to me like I know you will and you feel that wrath, that violence? Just know it's not personal. It's me fixing this title, it's reputation. It's for a good cause.”
"Andrei Sokolov. The Cobra King. Another snake - too many around here. Been living up to the name so far; got a venomous jab. Beat Latoya last show - welcome to the Latoya Losing Streak Club. Win over a former Gatekeeper Champion though, that makes you stand out here. Could be looking at the future in you."
"But like I said: I'm no one's stepping stone. Not any more. Missed your chance through the gate, Andrei, and now you have to pry the key from my cold, dead hands. Bet you'd be willing to kill me, right? Heard you're vicious."
"But viciousness isn't all it takes here. Everyone on Fallout is vicious. What you need, what last show proved to me you need the most, is control. And Andrei, I don't think you can even control yourself, let alone anyone else, with how blinded by bloodlust you are."
“Yuriko, Andrei, you may seem different, but there's similarities. Fresh blood, taste for violence.”
“You've both lost to Earl, too.”
“But Earl, I've beaten you before. In our last title match, Crowning II, you were the one I pinned, not Angelo. You were the final nail in the coffin of your own path to redemption.”
“Sums you up nicely.”
“It's self-sabotage, Earl, that's your problem. You don't evolve. You became the first-ever Gatekeeper Champion with your current attitude – but it's not enough to push you to your second reign. Unless you come out completely new, a brand new bit of life in you, then a loss to you would be regression on my part. So I hope, I hope, you do come out with something new. For both our sakes, for the sake of your future, your career.”
“That pub crawl match, I saw something. A little spark. You were strong enough to outlast four other people. Albeit, none of them had a single win between them heading into the match – but it's a start for you. Means you've got fight, you've got that will to hold on. And in a match like this? That's something to watch out for. That's an opponent that won't be easy to put to sleep.”
“But I know what it takes to put you to sleep, Earl. I've done it before, I'll do it again – literally this time. And either you fall the same you did before, or you struggle and fight. Either way? I'm gonna steal the breath from you with my bare hands.”
“Fun thing about sleep is it brings nightmares. I know them well. And you three?”
“You're gonna see one at Fallout XXIII in the flesh.”
END.
