"Behold, I will cast her into a bed, and them that commit adultery with her into great tribulation, except they repent of their deeds. And I will kill her children with death; and all the churches shall know that I am he which searcheth the reins and hearts: and I will give unto every one of you according to your works." (Revelation 2:22-23)
Dark Horse Towers
Los Angeles, CA
10:21a.m.
The hallway is dark; illuminated only by the dim light of French wall fixtures on the wall. A silent hush has fallen over the Towers that stand like 4 pedestals, pointing upward to the heavens. High up in the North Tower, a single room remains locked. The early morning is giving way to the late morning as the 12ft double onxy doors open and there stands Senester. He is perfectly groomed from head to toe. His hair in meticulous waves catches a bit of the light, as does his crisp, form fitting black suit, and plum colored dress shirt. He steps from the threshold of his office into the cold hallway with a malevolent look on his face. He makes his way to the elevator, calling it and riding to the lobby floor some 50 plus stories below. Stepping slowly yet with ultimate purpose he passes gawking staff, most avoiding direct eye contact as usual as if seared by his glare alone. As he exits the elevator the sound of his footstep along the marble floor echo as he makes his way outside to a lush rose garden which from time to time we’ve known him to frequent. The scenery, the bouquet, and the subtle sounds of air and earth are conducive to deep contemplation. He sits for nearly an hour before his watch breaks his thought with the voice of an assistant.
(Voice): I’m sorry to disturb you sir but the Sheriffs are here and wish to see you, I thought you would want to know.
Senester doesn’t respond, rather listens in silence before standing, and straightening his shirt.
(Voice): Ummm…sir…are you there? Hello?
(Senester): What is your name?
(Voice): I’m Veronica Barnes my lord, I work in the…
(Senester): Veronica, perhaps you can assist me. I’m confused.
(Veronica): Of course my lord, how can I be of assistance?
(Senester): I’m confused because I gave specific orders not to be disturbed, but for some reason you’ve chosen to defy my wishes and contact me.
(Veronica): My lord, the Sherriff arrived and....
(Senester): Veronica…you have 5 minutes to get out of this building, and off Dark Horse property.
A gasp is heard as Veronica drops the phone and grabs only her purse as she sprints to the elevator to escape. Someone else picks up the phone dandling from her desk.
(Voice): Is there anything I can do for you sir, I see Veronica is no longer with us?
(Senester): What you can do is follow instructions. I do not wish to be disturbed. The Sherriff can wait until I wish to address them. Do you understand?
(Voice): Yes my lord, of course!
With his meditation unpleasantly disrupted he takes a brief walk through the garden, arms folded behind his back as he slowly makes his way back inside. In the lobby of the North Tower a Lieutenant from his private security team awaits him.
(Senester): Report?
(Lieutenant): My Lord. It appears to be a standard court issued document serving.
(Senester): I’m returning to my office. You may send them there.
Another nuisance, he thought. Word had spread quickly that Wisdom Parker had been served just the day before, and it appears a related matter brings the local Sherriff’s department to his doorstep. Two weeks removed from Road to Ruin, and Shevington remaining in the hospital, it was obvious the Shevington family had finally hired an attorney and sought some form of reparation. Human behavior is such an interesting thing. They boast about what is important to them, their personal values, their rights, yet when a dollar sign is placed before it, suddenly their so-called injustice disappears. Their value system, their morals, their need for rights crumble under the all mighty dollar. How many lawsuits has Dark Horse and all its entities specifically HWA endured over the years? Hundreds, maybe thousands? Due diligence must prevail however, the motions must be carried out.
An interview with Shevington’s son had just aired, several actually. He’d been telling anyone who’ll give him 2 minutes of their time how horribly his dear, sweet, old mother had been treated. How the wrestling business has ruined her life. How those responsible would pay? In one interview he suggested even fighting Senester, although quickly admitted to being far from an athlete, he still felt the need to hit him. Senester knew this was raw emotion speaking for him. What did he hope to gain from a physical confrontation? It wouldn’t make his mother any healthier. At best it would hardly serve to quench his feeling of helplessness in helping her. He would find himself in a bed beside her, or worse. How dare the thought even pass his lips. As Senester returns to his office, the officers downstairs had long lost their patience. Getting in took time, the long drive down property passageway was a mile itself, and then they were essentially told to wait until Senester felt like seeing them. Finally they were escorted to an elevator and directed to Senester’s office. He watched them from his desk converse, their annoyance, and impatience definitely apparent.
(Sherriff #1): You hear all that hogwash... “Lord, this and Lord that”...this some kind of goddamn cult going on here?
(Sherriff #2): This guy’s more eccentric than Michael Jackson.
(Sherriff #1): Eccentric? He’s a fuking nut-job. My kids watch that wrestling crap from time to time, I’ve seen him on there. The guy can’t separate fiction from reality. Hell, we arrest crackheads with more sense than him.
They share a brief chuckle.
(Sherriff #2): You gotta admit, this place is pretty cool though, always wondered what it looked like in here.
(Sherriff #1): Gives me the creeps. There’s no telling what’s going on in here. You hear all the stories about this place, something is going on here.
(Sherriff #2): He comes up clean just about all the time. A couple city ordinance fines, but that’s about it.
(Sherriff #1): That’s all you’re gonna see! Son-of-a-bytch has all kinds of politicians in his back pocket.
With that, the older officer seems to get even more impatient pressing the PH button on the elevator again.
(Sherriff #1): How fuking long does this thing take.
(Sherriff #2): 41st floor, at least we haven’t had to yet, almost there.
(Sherriff #1): Well I’ve got to take a fuking dump; that coffee is running through me. I’m about ready to burst. We’ve been here for 45 goddamn minutes.
They reach the upper level and the elevator doors open. An assistant is standing by to escort them to Senester’s office. The double onyx doors open and they walk in greeted by Senester whose watched their entire conversation and elects to have some fun at their expense.
(Sherriff #1): Are you Senester, Owner of the Hardcore Wrestling Alliance?
(Senester): You mean you don’t know who I am?
(Sherriff #1): Please just answer the question sir, I need your verbal confirmation. Are you Senester, Owner of the Hardcore Wrestling Alliance?
By his body language, Senester can tell that there is a definite rumbling in the man’s colon. He’s even begun to slightly perspire as he forces his muscles to contain himself. His arm is outstretched already holding the envelope out for Senester to take.
(Senester): You know...I’m tired, that’s what I am.
Senester turns away from them, heading over to the bar where he pours a glass of bourbon.
(Senester): I’d offer you one but I assume being on duty you’d reject it.
Senester goes and stands directly in front of the older office.
(Senester): Perhaps I can offer you a coffee instead?
(Sherriff #2): Sir, we know who you are, if you could just please...
(Senester): If you know who I am then, you know I don’t do anything on anyone else’s time but my own.
Senester stands there, and expressionless look on his face that defines arrogance. His smug demeanor only angers the officer further.
(Sherriff #1): Alright smart guy, how about we just take you in on obstruction of justice?
Senester just scoffs at him turning away as he takes another sip of bourbon.
(Senester): Obstruction of Justice? You’ve truly missed your calling as a comedian, that’s rather laughable. Granted, I suppose you’d be well within your rights to do so, but do you really want to do that? Handcuff me, get me in your car, take me to jail, go through hours long processing of paper only to sign your name to a document stating “he wouldn’t let me hand him an envelope”?
(Sherriff #1): I’ll do it boy. I’m done playing with games with you.
(Senester): As am I with you, you aren’t entertaining me as much as I’d hoped for. Very well, have it your way. Yes, I’m Senester.
Here! You’ve been served you dumb son-of-a-bytch!
The officer tosses the envelope at him and it falls to floor. He and his partner head out to the hallway.
(Senester): Oh and Officers...
(Sherriff #1): What?
(Senester): I don’t know where you’re going to take your long awaited shit, but it won’t be here in my building. My security staff will escort you out.
The officer’s face turns bright red as he grunts and rushes to the elevator pressing the button madly. Senester presses a button at his desk that closes the office doors then reaches down to the envelope on the floor. He picks it up and opens it, then reads. The letter is from the Shevington family attorney’s office. It is a court ordered request to meet alongside Butch Parker, and Wisdom Parker at Havoc with said attorneys. No other information is given except that the meeting was arranged to have the attorney come to them knowing they would be together in one place rather than scheduling separate meetings. Senester is insulted by the very insulation that Shevington’s family dare raise some legal issue as a result of Road to Ruin. He goes over to his desk, and logs into his laptop, the glass keyboard is built into the desk and a camera comes on. He enters some information and waits for the person on the other end to respond.
(Senester): Put me through, now!
(Voice): Yes of course, at once my lord.
A woman wearing scrubs is seen on the other end of the live connection. She walks to a room entering it and we see Mrs. Shevington laying upright in bed. One of her sons there feeding her, her husband asleep in the chair beside her bed. The nurse turns on the television and plugs some form of USB into the side. Senester’s face then emerges on the screen.
(Senester): Hello Elizabeth. So sorry to disturb you during your dinner, the applesauce does indeed look delicious but I’ll get straight to the point. I received your pathetic lawyer’s letter. I could care less about the Parkers, but I have no idea what you think you are doing coming at me with whatever baseless accusations you’ve told them. Any lawyer worth a damn wouldn’t have even taken your case, because you have none. You did this to yourself. You for months have conspired against me and it all came to an end at Road to Ruin. I put you in that match as a reminder of who it is you are dealing with. Now every time your old bones creak, every pill that has to be crushed for you to swallow it, every permanent mark on your wizened skin will remind you of your mistakes. Oh, and please...tell your son that if he wishes to challenge me, he knows where to find me. I’ll be glad to sign him on as a talent and he can have that confrontation he so longs for. I’ve ended more than men’s careers Elizabeth, you’ve already lost your physical well-being, don’t make me take even more from you.
Senester looks over at her son with a smile, then nods. The nurse removes the device from the television and exits the room quietly. Shevington looks at her son and smiles. Then in a frail voice speaks to him.
(Shevington): It’s all right. Everything is going to be all right!
Senester crumbles the document up and throws it in the trash. A look of satisfaction on his.
(Senester): Behold Shevington, I have cast you into bed, lay there and think of your brave children. I will bring them to death. Havoc is going to be most interesting.
Senester takes the last slip of his drink as the scene fades to black.
Message Thread
« Back to index