"AND Nadab and Abihu, the sons of Aaron, took either of them his censer, and put fire therein, and put incense thereon, and offered strange fire before the LORD, which he commanded them not. And there went out fire from the LORD, and devoured them, and they died before the LORD." (Leviticus 10:1-2)
Dark Horse Towers (East)
12:00a.m.
The underground floors of the East Tower are all but silent, only the sound of his footsteps in his Amedeo Testoni’s echo down an extremely long hall. Dressed sleekly in all black he is the model of fashion perfection. He foregoes the tram and elects to walk the distance reflecting on recent comments in the HWA world. At the time, it isn’t very clear where he’s going.
(Senester): Isn’t this the happy reunion. Bridges, McNeil, Dredge basking in the memories of themselves, Butch counting down the days, and a cameo from Heir Hans. Look at you…all of you…you lowly, ungrateful wretches. Who are you Buff after all these years to persist in denouncing me? I’m sick of you and your “House that Buff Bridges built” line. An old man named Noah once built an Ark, but it wasn’t by his own design, it wasn’t by his own will. He was a mere laborer, just like you. Now that you’re off disability you can get right back to work doing what I tell you to do, just like Noah.
Then there’s you Mr. McNeil, sticking your face in the mix because somewhere in the tabloids you heard your name mentioned. Who are you to talk about putting a nail in my coffin? Hypocrite, I made you. Before HWA you were drudging around the world from promotion to promotion trying to make your way to the big time, and this was before the internet Mr. McNeil, this was before social media. This was a time when you had to hit the pavement, and hit it hard to get out there and get recognized. Do you think that filth you train at your 4Q gym are going to have it so rough? Not when technology can make them internet sensations overnight they won’t. Independents will come rushing to them, unlike in your days when it was you going door-to-door, begging for a spot on the card, a clean sink, and $50. Nail in my coffin? I am the great provider. Where do you think your bastard trainees want to be? They want to be in the elite, the titan of the wrestling industry, they want to be in HWA and they’ll throw everything you taught them out the window for a real opportunity and you know it. Take your nails and drive them through your blasphemous lips. Shut them from speaking against me because you may have no regrets now when you look back, but keep talking and you’ll have plenty of regrets coming when you look ahead. By the way, give my regards to the family…Toya and Christina especially.
Senester smiles coyly. The double doors ahead getting closer.
(Senester): Don’t think I’ve forgotten you Mr. Dredge. I hope your walk down memory lane was peaceful. I hope that your fingers still tingled when you touched the ring. It means that you can still feel, feel in your spirit, soul and mind, and feel physically to the touch. I can take them both away and you know it. I can leave you devoid of even emptiness, less than nothing. This is what Michael Dredge fears, the wrath of God. For it is just and it is mighty, and when the hammer of heaven strikes it strikes true. All this talk of family, and fatherhood, and no mention from any of you of God, no praise for my name, no thanks, no gratitude. How much over the years have I given you Dredge? How many wondrous blessings have I bestowed upon you? When you tuck your little son in bed at night does he know to whom he is praying? Does MJ thank me for creating his daddy? Does Kate thank me for providing her a husband? Your home, your money…these are all my blessings. These are things that I have bestowed upon you. Things that through the almighty you have acquired. I will not be denied my rightful praise. Don’t for a moment tell these commoners, the fans, the media and the world that “your old life is over.” How can it be when you’re still living in it? You want a fresh start Mr. Dredge, you want to purge your soul of the man you once were, you want the atonement your soul has sought these past few years? Then you must shed yourself of everything. Every penny, nickel and dime I have provided you. Shed yourself of your worldly possession that through me, through this epic empire of HWA have come to be yours. Do not so much as live off the name Michael Dredge for it is tainted. Get a common job, drive a common car, live in a cheap common apartment, and cheat the government system like your common brethren. If your family is all you have left, then truly they are all you need. You are no less of a hypocrite than McNeil, saying your focus is on family yet still linking yourself to me and to this industry to leech from it what you still can from a safe distance.
Last and certainly not least in the family gathering is you Parker. You are simply biding your time, and that time is almost up. I have many names, and I am many things, but above them all you of all people know that the word of God is good. What I say has been being written in stone for centuries. There is no ruse to our contract, there is no hidden agenda, it is a win / win situation. You get the children, and I get ratings…it is that simple. The name Butch Parker still draws by the thousands, only a fool would pass the opportunity to make profit from it. It pleases me that we can finally tie up this last loose end between us. You have been a true lion Parker. A protector of your pride regardless of the stakes and have never strayed from that. Heir Hans may be lurking in the shadows trying to be the voice of reason, but our agreement couldn’t be any straightforward.
Senester’s hands are tucked behind him as he somberly walks to the end of the hall at what appears to be a blank, black wall. He places his hand on the wall the biometric authentication system scans his hand, and greets him.
(System): Greetings Lord Senester. Last vault visit November 2, 2010.
The panel of wall slides open and inside is what appears to be a expansive museum of some sort. He heads in and moves over to smaller, private room that hosts an ornate chest in the center of the room, otherwise empty. The chest is noticeably old and crafted, yet well maintained. He looks at the chest, his fingers running across it as he opens the lid looking deep down inside; a cold smile spreads across his lips.
(Senester): You see gentlemen…Project LS-TW is complete, but the Lords work is never done. And soon I begin a new project. It begins with the contents of this chest centuries old. Like the World Heavyweight Championship, it too is a symbol, and once I unearth it, it will make the world tremble in fear. Back at home with your families, your pathetic gyms and trainees, Parker, McNeil, Dredge, and here “fighting that good fight” Bridges…can each sit back and watch.
Senester closes the lid and smiles, rubbing his hand across the chest smiling as the scene ends.
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