”Watch ye therefore: for ye know not when the master of the house cometh, at even, or at midnight, or at the cockcrowing, or in the morning.” (Mark 13:35)
Somewhere in the East Tower of Dark Horse Towers we find Senester in a large room with sparkling black marble floors. The walls are adorned with paintings, and the floor lined with various display cases and statues. The echo of his every footstep bounces spreads through room as we walks with his arms folded behind his back, his plum colored shirt closely matching the trim of the walls. The room is virtually a private museum. He comes upon a display case where inside rests a katana. Edges of the blade glisten as they catch the light.
(Senester): You should feel the hilt of this blade Mr. Wilkinson. This was the blade that I plunged into the chest of your beloved mentor…Michael Dredge. Even through this crystal casing I can smell traces of his blood. I was given this blade as a gift in 1991 from Japanese Prime Minister Toshiki Kaifu. You might say that the political branch of Dark Horse Inc. was instrumental in keeping Japanese troops out of Gulf War affairs and limiting their role to financial support. This blade is over a thousand years old. Though your mentor met his demise by my bare hands, he previously had the distinct honor of feeling the history of this fine work of art.
Senester steps across the room to another case. Several long nails are the case along with chunks of shredded wood.
(Senester): More recently I’ve added these to my collection. Butch Michael Parker defied me and he paid the ancient price of thousands of criminals before him. These nails represent more than punishment and pain, they represent the absolution of my power. There is no greater force than the will of God Mr. Wilkinson. These splinters of wood are indicative of the years Parker has fought against me, and how with each battle I slowly chipped away the Scottish Sequoia , turning a towering tree deeply rooted into this business, into chips to kindle my fires.
These are weapons of war Mr. Wilkinson. It will not be long before the instrument of your mortal demise is selected and wielded against you. Havoc approaches and the world watches you make your amends in anticipation of certain doom. You should know that the events soon to take place were unavoidable, despite your beliefs otherwise. These moments have been years in the making in this destiny you have selected for yourself. You know in your heart, and in your soul you have no real chance of defeating me, but you hope to inflict enough damage to make some trivial point that I may not be stopped, but I can be slowed or injured. Your mentor failed, Parker failed, two of the greats in HWA history…and you…still but a fledgling, you too shall join them in disappointment.
Senester walks out of the museum, think of his choice of words “fledgling.”
(Senester): Do you know why I allowed Bookman to sign Mr. Cross and Mr. Jordan? It was for you Talon. You are their mentor just as Dredge was yours and through their plight, their petty triumphs can you better imagine your own limitations. A few years in this business, a few titles credited to your name, and men like you assume yourself masters. You think it your duty to prepare the next generation when your time comes to step aside. What will you teach them Mr. Wilkinson when you have learned so little, and have so much more to come to understand? You may teach them how to bump in the ring, to fall on their backs without breaking it. You may teach them to run the ropes and build their stamina, but there are animals and even machines trained to accomplish some of the same feats as man. You think you are preparing them when you’re only sending them to their doom, just like Dredge did to you.
He thought himself so legendary that he might pass it on to you. He may not have believed it in the end, but he accomplished his goal better than he thought. You are exactly like him. You have been imbued with a false sense of security, artificial assurance of greatness. In commoner tongue you’d call it “hype.” You believe because he told you, and you trusted his word. Like him when you look at those who look up to you as their mentor. Can you truly say that you are giving them anything more than the falsehoods he gave you? The overinflated ego of accomplishments, of preparedness. The ridiculous idea that your “training sessions” endow them with some new level of development, is simply pitiable.
You’ve gained nothing with your NWO. Bridges can’t guide you against me anymore than he can guide is own career. McNeil could care less about what you accomplish, and Eddie rather have his enemies close and his friends closer, as the saying goes. You may reconcile with Mr. Neilson, but it won’t last. Ally stands between you and it is she who shall be the catalyst to the suffering of one or both of you when all is said and done. The SOA burned DNA’s home down to get their attention, now what? Shall you attempt to make amends, and reach out to them in their time of need? Will you give Merlyn a place to bath his repulsive body and rest his head as well to hide your so-called shame? So much awaits all of you.
Indeed…Havoc shall hold many revelations for you, and even more for those around you sucked in, and marching to your pomp and circumstance. Think of the instance you first heard my name Mr. Wilkinson, think of every moment that has passed from then to now and choose your weapon or war wisely. I need only these hands to bring you to your knees. To draw tears and disdain from those around you. I can reach into your father’s heart thousands of miles away and squeeze it dry. I can wring your mother’s neck until her tears bleed. I can rip the unborn child from your sister’s womb and jump rope with the umbilical cord. I can do whatever I want and there is nothing you can do about it.
Senester makes his way down the hall laughing manically.
(Senester): Nothing at all!
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