Post by Havoc on Jun 1, 2021 20:39:04 GMT -5
The scene begins with the camera panning around to a grandfather clock, with its pendulum oscillating to and fro making the only sound in the background. It’s 11:42 AM on a Sunday morning and time seems to be flowing slower than usual due to the monotonous day. The camera slowly moves down to reveal a couch in the middle of the ring with a chair placed right next to it. Seated in that chair is an unfamiliar lady, holding on to a notepad flicking through the pen in her hand as she waits. She quickly glances over at the clock and starts making a note as the camera now solely focuses on the man lying down on the couch with his hands in a coffin position.
“Mr. Sabertooth, I’d like to remind you that we’ve only got 18 more minutes left in today’s session. I know that you’ve been going through a lot but it is key for us to get through this-- together so that we can talk over some possible solutions for your problem. What exactly happened that day?” The psychiatrist asked, to complete silence from Chris. His eyes were wide open and he appeared to be in a trance state, pondering over the hand that he had been dealt over the last couple of months.
“Listen-- Whatever happened, cannot be changed. What we can work on is a way to get over your fears. To get over this hurdle that has been constantly holding you back. I’ve seen many clients, Mr. Sabertooth, but you are a special case. I haven’t dealt with anything like you before and that’s why I do care about this… I care about getting it right. I care about helping you get over your issues. PLEASE-- Please let me help you, Chris.” She almost reaches out to grab Chris by his arm but that would have been unprofessional. Holding back, she just slams her pen onto the clipboard to make a loud sound that finally breaks Sabertooth’s trance as he snaps out of it. Lost for a couple of moments, he looks around before running his hands over his face to compose himself once again. He swings out of the sofa and sits upright looking at his therapist.
“Thank you. Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re right-- I have been silent. Something that came back to bite me in the ass. I thought that my actions could do the talking for themselves but I underestimated the situation I was in. When I do talk, people don’t want to listen. They simply label my beliefs as acts of terror. They portray me as a fiend. They twist the narrative to support their uneducated opinions about me and my people. So I kept my silence. Disputed Territory should have been the first step towards change. It should have been the building blocks for my run here in Project Honor. Yet-- I sit here with nothing to account for. They played off my silence as an act of cowardice. What am I supposed to do when NOBODY really wants to believe in me? What am I supposed to do when I see the people who I cared about stab me in the back and reap rewards out of it. I am conflicted, Doc. Should I be proud of the man that I help build or should I want to gouge my fucking eyes out from seeing him or his bitch succeed…. Pardon my language.” Was it even Chris speaking at this point. Was he ever the client to begin with or was it Havoc bleeding out and finally showcasing an ounce of emotion for the betrayal he had to deal with.
“U-uhm that’s completely fine. Please continue, Mr. Sabertooth” The therapist suggested with a bit of hesitation in her voice.
“Usually, I do not like it when people call me by that name. But I’ll give you a pass for all the help that you’ve given me. I struggle to cope with heartbreak as they say. When you love something or somebody so much that you’d die for them-- only for them to sacrifice you or your ideals for their own personal gain… It hurts your fucking soul. I joined Project Honor with every intention of exacting revenge but my heart does not fucking let me do that. I want to grab Savannah Sunshine by her throat and choke the life out of her… But I couldn’t. My mind blanked out. I wanted to KILL her, Doc. I really did. I wanted to send her body piece by piece back to Jason just so he can feel the pain of losing something important as I had before him. People are quick to say that I was the one holding him back when I am the one who equipped him to deal with ANY situation, to begin with. Drago? That shit was ALWAYS going to be easy for him because of the foundation I had laid out for him. And the Kingdom Dark Tournament that bagged him the OWA Spartan’s Championship? I was preparing him to take the throne that I HAD BUILT-- I had him ready to be on top of the world. What threat would the Spartan Championship contenders ever bring to him? Deep down, maybe I am just happy to see Jason succeed. Maybe I let Savannah get away with things I would have killed anybody else for-- knowing that she is an important part of his life. Maybe I am just going soft, Doc. I don’t have it in me to keep the movement going anymore. I can’t be a leader-- I can’t be a messiah if waking up every fucking day begins to be a struggle. I should just let it go, isn’t it? I should let bygones be bygones and start afresh, isn’t it? Please tell me that it is the right thing to do…” Almost mumbling over his words as he spoke. Chris was struggling to come to terms with the recent form he had to witness. Having been a dominant force ever since its inception, Havoc had finally stumbled over. Now, the once-unstoppable force struggled to get back up.
“I-I have no words, Chris. I am not sure what you are talking about and frankly put-- It’s kinda scaring me with the direction it’s going towards. I am sure you’re talking in metaphors when you bring up death and murder and killing somebody you once loved-- or respected. I don’t know what happened but I understand that it has deeply affected you. But holding grudges won’t solve anything. The wounds will heal, Mr. Sabertooth. Vengeance won’t make it heal any faster. It will only bring temporary gratification. Moving on is the first step of healing--” Before she continues any further, Havoc lets out a scream pulling back on his hair, almost pulling out a decent clump of it right from the roots. The therapist is startled, dropping the notepad.
“THAT IS NOT the answer I was looking for. People always talk about revenge not being the solution-- But why does revenge feel so good then? Why does it fuel my every desire to work harder to get out of this fucking slump. I may be conflicted but I can’t let ANYBODY screw me over and get away with it. Jason may think he got away-- Savannah may think she got away too. I don’t even need to speak on Valkyrie. She is LUCKY that I kept my silence. She is lucky that I was conflicted. She is lucky that I chose to fight the urges of KILLING EVERY FUCKING BODY in that ring! But I can’t keep fighting these urges. I can’t look at Jason and Savannah succeed. It boils my fucking blood to see them happy while I struggle here. I can’t keep it inside of me any longer, Doc. I can’t let the Ashes wither away because their messiah wasn’t capable enough to right ONE wrong from his past. No… The people who wronged me-- no matter who they are or what they meant to me in the past, will face the consequences. I appreciate your help, Doc. But I can’t be a complacent little bitch. Some bridges might be broken beyond repair but I have a fair share of rebuilding to do. After dominating EVERY SINGLE promotion I have been a part of, I can’t afford a slip up in my track record. You’re right about my wounds healing. But I can’t let the scars haunt me till the day I die-- I need to change. I CANNOT FUCKING STOP TILL I BATHE IN THE BLOOD OF MY ENEMIES. The enemies of my movement! Only then will I find peace. Thank you, Doc. I mean it.” He muttered as a demonic smirk appeared on his face. Slowly, the face paint that Havoc is known for begins to appear over his face.
Meanwhile, the camera pans to reveal the therapist stuck in eternal limbo as the pupils from her eyes disappear. She begins to froth in her mouth as a demented Havoc watches on. Havoc simply lifts her out of her chair as her body begins to convulse around and walks towards the doorway.
-x-
The scene begins to morph as the images of the doctor slowly turns into that of Havoc in her place. The walls appear to be damp as cracks begin to appear on the ceiling. Water trickles down from the orifices as the camera pans to a rocking chair in the middle of the room. The camera slowly pans around the dimly lit room to reveal a horrific sight. Havoc is seen puffing on a cigarette as his attire is drenched in blood with a badly scarred severed head placed on his lap.
“I have been aching to be set free-- I have been patiently waiting for an opening. The moment I sense a sign of weakness, I am going to pounce at the opportunity of exacting my revenge. I get it though-- I can’t just go around expecting to face the top champion, can I? Jason Long may have been a rest for my foot to lay upon back in OWA but things are different here in Project Honor. He is a big fucking deal. The Prime Champion! I don’t expect the brass to just hand me down an opportunity on the basis of my reputation. Especially after the dreadful performance at Disputed Territory. Although it took me a while to come to terms with Jason being his own man-- A King perhaps. Just seeing his ugly mug did set me back in times of sorrow and despair. I couldn’t think straight-- But that had to change. After all, I had a reputation to uphold. So, Project Honor-- I have learned my lesson. I will play your game like you want me to play. You want me to work my way up from the ground zero-- then so be it. It works out even better for me! I get more subjects-- more victims to play with. It brings me joy to see people suffer. But even that is only an ounce of pain in comparison to what I had to deal with in my lifetime. Shows you how fair this world really is, innit? Speaking of which, it really isn’t fair for the poor sod that has the misfortune of stepping into the ring with me at Fallout VII. Funnily enough, I know a fair share about being a heathen. You think this world would ever accept a MONSTER like me?” Havoc sarcastically scoffed as he slowly played with the blood-ridden, entangled hair of the victim.
“Dealing with a loss can be tough-- Especially against a corner street whore like Savannah Sunshine. I did underestimate her, I won’t even lie. I did! While Valkyrie could never turn up to work again and people still wouldn’t care. I will give Savannah credit when it’s due-- She took advantage of my weaknesses and made the most of them. Now she finds herself at the precipice against a new fighting rookie of a champion in Pixie Sloane. Whilst being proficient with her words and arson-- Her work in the ring is akin to that of a blind man trying his luck at archery. It disgusts me to see incapable morons get an opportunity at glory and even succeed. Fair play to Pixie-- She had to overcome all the odds stacked against her to pull out a victory. While Savannah is practically salivating at this opportunity as any veteran of this business would-- I find myself going head to head against a fucking hick. A hillbilly who is very likely of being inbred, dragging around his cousin Hickey who clearly has a BDSM fetish by all the accessories she carries around. Heathen Jones already looks to be of the submissive kind so I am not sure how that translates to in-ring prowess. Being from the most backward part of the country, with an unbearable southern drawl that makes me want to shove my hands down his throat and pull his tongue out-- which he’d probably enjoy, now that I think of it. I am supposed to be terrified of him, isn’t it? Who knows what kind of diseases this man is carrying. Looking at Hickey-- I’d probably need to find a Hazmat suit. That is the only kind of lethal offense that Heathen Jones possesses. If this is Project Honor’s attempt of kicking me while I am down-- I am disappointed. I expected a harder fight-- A challenge perhaps. While it is unfair of me to count Heathen Jones out… I am unsure if Jones can even count to a ten. I am sure his inbred strength is impressive to some but that really doesn’t phase me. I have taken shits that are tougher than Heathen Jones. So, while I appreciate the effort-- it will be my utmost pleasure to dismember this hick and feed him to the pigs that he fucks on the weekends.” Havoc amuses himself with his comments about his opponent as a shit-eating grin appears over his face. He takes the severed head and starts tossing it back and forth as blood splutters down to the floor.
“It is borderline hysterical to even think that Heathen Jones stands a sliver of a fucking chance against me. Let me just humor him for a second and consider a possibility of another upset victory at my expense-- I will make sure to stomp his pathetic fucking skull into the canvas till all that’s left is mush. Not that it’s going to be hard to begin with, seeing that it’s practically hollow up in his cranium. Alas, it is due to a fault of my own that I find myself here. I let emotions get the better of me so now I have to scrape the bottom of the barrel just to get featured on the show. It’s disappointing but understandable at the same time. Whilst people who wronged me continue to prosper, I find myself staring into the face of a fucking hillbilly. And with every passing second, all I want to do is CRUSH his fucking skull with my bare hands. I hope you’re watching, Project Honor. You sealed this poor sod’s fate. I have to make up for the lost time-- I need to set an example. Heathen Jones will be the first on a list of MANY more to come. It is time for the Nightmare King to rebuild-- It is time that I pick up the slack and show the world of Project Honor who they are dealing with. The Ashes of the Wake will rise again and it will be built on the foundation of EVERYBODY that has ever wronged us. That includes Jason Long. That includes Ozymandias. THAT INCLUDES EVERY FUCKING BODY THAT DARES TO STAND IN MY WAY! It is time. A movement will spark amongst the ranks of Project Honor. Decisions will have to be made. You’re either with me…. OR DEAD! So, don’t make foolish decisions. Join me in this war against the corrupt society. Join me in establishing change in this world. All you have to do is take my hand… And I promise you-- YOU WILL NEVER WALK ALONE!”
A demented smile appears over his face as Havoc slams the severed head onto the floor as the background turns red. All we hear is a crushing sound and a burst of demonic laughter echoing in the minds of his doubters. Havoc will rise again.
