"And when ye shall hear of wars and rumours of wars, be ye not troubled: for such things must needs be; but the end shall not be yet. For nation shall rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom: and there shall be earthquakes in divers places, and there shall be famines and troubles: these are the beginnings of sorrows." (Mark 13:7-8)
The sky darkens over cloudy Los Angeles. There is rain the forecast this evening and Senester is found in his office standing against the window looking out over the city. His black suit perfectly crisp where what’s left of the light catches the creases, and dully glows from his deep plum dress shirt. His palate is tantalized with the deep amber of Louis XIII Black Pearl Magnum, one of the oldest cognac’s in his collection. Behind him comes a man, wrapping his arms around him, burring his head into his shoulder then nibbled at his ear. He acknowledges is presence with nothing more than…
(Senester): Leave me.
He backs away, the silhouette of his naked frame visible from the windows. Senester’s thoughts are on Havoc, on being the World Heavyweight Champion after staying away from its glow for ten years, and of Butch Parker.
(Senester): The sharing of your war wounds has taken me back Mr. Parker. I recall when I myself first entered HWA. In that first night, I ended the career of one of its legends with the marriage of steel and bone. Wielding that hammer against his knees wasn’t so much an act of ending his career, it was cementing mine. I told the world that night that their lord and master had arrived. I proved it in the ring, and I proved it outside of it. I have built an empire, a conglomerate of companies under the Dark Horse Inc. banner, and took HWA into the fold as well. My legal department is the finest in the world, my science department continues to push the boundaries of research and development, the list goes on, my defense department is integrated around the globe with cutting edge technologies, and the list goes on. Yet, while each of them are far more profitable….none bring me the enjoyment of HWA.
The sky continues to darken and lights around the city come on one by one as the roads far down below are blurs of white and red.
(Senester): It is important that you understand this Butch Parker. The advertising has. The posters, the commercials and all the marketing has gone into circulation announcing the match fans have waited so very long to see. Butch Parker vs. Senester, and it will take place in December at Blood, Sweat & Tears. We may have yet to sign the contract, but it is a simple formality in an epic event already scribed in the pages of destiny. It is important for you to understand whom you are dealing with for I am ever changing, and you know me not.
I remember when those war wounds of yours had yet to manifest. Before Thane Givens desecrated that grave and you subsequently took his title. Before you first laid eyes on Wisdom whom one day you would marry. Before you abused your friendship with Hans, and brought ruin upon Black Dragon. Before all your battles with Buff, McNeil, Dredge, and myself that have taken their physical tolls. I remember when those green eyes were a bit clearer, when your skin was unscarred, and your sweat smelled of an empty battlefield rather than a destroyed one. You remember as well.
Now at his desk Senester looks at old pictures of Butch in various matches, each image more than history, more than a simple story to be told but a legacy in the making.
(Senester): The man who came into HWA that January night in 2004 and put his opponent Psymon to the mat with his now legendary and reliable Rampant Lion. It is a legacy you have made Mr. Parker. Flash forward to today and you flash your visible scars as if they have christened you not only worthy but with every right to claim some superior value. You mistake yourself assuming that I, in any way need you. I don’t rely on you Butch Parker. I don’t hold you as some integral part of this organization.
On the screen at his desk are photos of Butch lunging aboard the Lady Moura, another of him joining Senester in recovering Dark Horse property from the Red Cross, both events just over a year ago.
(Senester): Need…No! I simply want you. There is nothing so obscure in this admission. When you left a year ago, you and I were not quite finished. I knew there would be a time for us to finish what we began, and when I saw you standing in the hallway of that courthouse, preparing to testify for the prosecution, and having known of your efforts to regain what you thought were you children as well…I simply seized the moment. I wanted you to stand with me once more Butch Parker, for I know the void of darkness you keep tucked away within you. I have unlocked it, I have touched it, I have as you said “groomed” it. It is delightful, it is delicious, it is decadent, but it is not to be.
More photos of Butch are on the screen of various charity events he’s attended, swarms of children surrounding him, women swooning over him, Butch training future athletes in the gym…photos simply of Butch Parker…the family man, the philanthropist, the mentor.
(Senester): You’re only lying to yourself. The world you live in was created for the fool hearted. For the sheep who require constant leadership because the word of God is wasted upon them. The world of the damned souls who knees are clean, absent of my proper praise. It is not to be, this unity, this great alignment between us because you chose to walk among them, to live amongst them, and have resigned yourself die amongst them. I wanted you beside me, but like all that defies the will of God, all who deny me shall be brought to ruin. A father mourns the loss of his son, a mother her daughter, and when Jesus wept, it was not for the loss of love, friend or family, it was because he had done all there was to do, he had shown man the way into my kingdom, and still they went their own way into damnation.
Senester’s thoughts turn to others who have felt his wrath, and another swig of cognac quells the bitterness of the contemplation. Outside is now dark, and the moon having risen glows brightly through the clouds.
(Senester): As you’ve already illustrated to Chuckles, there is no amount of physical pain you have not already endured. Arguably to some there is little point in even trying, but it all overlooks a problem you have. I’ve already said it, but it bears repeating….you don’t know me. The lowest depths you think I could turn to, the so-called atrocities you’ve known of me, the alleged deceits, everything…they all have dimensions beyond your comprehension Butch Parker. You can delay me, you can slow me down, you can take the occasional battle as your own, but war is always mine, and you cannot stop me. No one can. When next your garments are pulled back to view those wounds, the tiny scars of ladders, the lumps on the bone from chairs, and all your other badges of the flesh…know this…….I have more to give you inside and out and I am generous in my giving. Do not look up Blood, Sweat and Tears as the next triumphant step in your reluctant return. It is falsely advertised as an opportunity for you to win the World Title that disgusts you around my waist.
In the distance bright lights glare across the city. Dozens of stories above it, he has but to close his eyes and imagine the sounds and sights of the hustle and bustle below. Many things are happening, many more will happen, and even more could.
(Senester): It is still a ways to Blood, Sweat & Tears Mr. Parker, and by the time it comes around, I will have given you a better understanding of the Senester you thought you knew. Afterall…who doesn’t want to be closer to God?
Senester grins then takes the last swig of cognac as the scene fades to black.
Message Thread
« Back to index