"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)
A screen is showing a CNN News report
“Just hours after appearing at a Hardcore Wrestling Alliance event, New York based attorney William Throckmorton was found unresponsive in his hotel room following an inquiry from his limo driver who had been waiting over an hour past his scheduled pick-up time. Management at the Waldorf Astoria declined to comment in light of NYPD Commissioner William J. Bratton issued a preliminary statement indicating that foul play had not been detected. Mr. Throckmorton was later pronounced dead at the hospital.”
The screen is then cut off and goes black. A close-up on Senester’s cold eyes opens is then seen, and as the camera pans back we find his clenched hand pressed against his chin and lips. He turns from the screen and as the camera continues to pan out we see him seated at a large conference table surrounded by roughly twenty men and women in suits. He walks over to the window, staring across the city spread wide and far as eyes might see.
(Senester): Your lives are spent void, a black hole that exists within, yet does not reflect reality. You forget yourselves, the rules of society in which you are all bound, indeed more importantly the laws of God, the laws of the universe I have given breath to. An unfortunate, yet fitting end for Mr. Throckmorton. His life will be memorialized in the manner in which it was lived. A common, lowly creature, feasting upon the betrayal of an old woman, aiding her in what would be a futile cause save for one thing...failure.
Senester turns back to the table and takes his seat again. His eyes scan the length and width of the desk, briefly locking an icy glare at each member around the table.
(Senester): Irrefutably, one of the most effective and efficient legal teams in the world, and your negligence permitted Shevington and her wretched family to not only undermine me, but to secure one of Dark Horse’s most prolific enterprises in HWA. I see the trepidation in your eyes. The near silent clearing of your throats. The subtle, uneasy shifting of your bodies in your chairs. Before Throckmorton took his last breath, I can assure you…if he didn’t understand it in that moment, the contemplation of the very wonder of action and reaction crossed his mind as it’s crossing yours now. The reason each of you aren’t shelved into the wall of a morgue as he is, is that this situation is rather nostalgic for me. As you know I didn’t always own HWA, I came in competing as a mere hobby, subject to the pathetic whims of management. Yet, for the last twelve years I have been on the opposite side of the coin. Mastering and managing the roles of both commander and competitor. Now Butch and Wisdom Parker assume that role and I am back where I first began. A common talent on the card, yet unhinged ladies and gentlemen. Unhinged, and while temporary I intend to make good of my time, as you will yours. I’m going to give you an opportunity to fix this. I want the Parker and Shevington families on their knees and at my feet where they belong. Use whatever resources necessary but make no mistake, you will restore my ownership in HWA, or I will give severe cause to the anxiety you felt when you walked in here.
Relief is swept across them, yet completely…no small task lies before them. Senester looks at a picture of Butch and Wisdom’s with their daughter Evina and has a look of empathy on his face, almost a sorrowful gaze. His legal team sit silent and confused as he pushes a button and video equipment rises from the table and he starts into the camera as the recording and streaming light comes on.
(Senester): Hello Evina, it’s me again, you’re Uncle Senester. I’m afraid I have some bad news that may be hard for you to understand. You’re mommy and daddy won’t let me be your uncle anymore. Uncle Senester can’t tell you stories. No, “little girls are made of sugar, and spice, and everything nice. No, “boys are made, of snips and snails and puppy dog tails.”
He sets family photo on the table and lights the edge on fire. The flame slowly bleeds across the paper engulfing it entirely. It sparkles in his eyes as it sizzles and smokes its way out of existence.
(Senester): Since I can’t be your uncle, I’ll be your nightmare. I’ll be the shadow in your room, the monster under your bed. I’ll be the voice in the back of your mind, and the tree branch scratching your window in the wind at night. I’ll be the whisper you think you hear, the boogeyman that keeps you up at night, and the stranger watching you play. I’m going to take from your family as they have taken from me, steal from them as they have stolen from me. You’ve taken something valuable to me, and I am going to take something of value to all of you. I’m going to take your childhood little girl, you’re future, and your parents every hope and dream for you.
A smile cracks in the corner of his mouth.
(Senester): I was content Butch, did you know that? I was content with our decade long game of cat and mouse. I’d poke the lion’s cage, and you’d roar back. You’d strike with your mighty paw, and I’d maneuver to counter. From time to time our attentions would be drawn to alternative matters, but we always came back to one another, didn’t we? That was our game, and no one in the history of professional wrestling, in any industry in the world…played it better. Sadly that game is over, you win Butch Parker. Now a new game begins, one I don’t think you’re ready for. The power in my hands might be weakened, but my convictions have lost none of their potency. When I’m done with your family Butch, even the most loathsome human being on this earth will pity you. Every enemy you’ve ever had from Thane Givens, to Micheal Dredge, to Eddie Phoenix, to Talon Wilkinson and Michael James will shed a tear. I’m going to make ruin of your souls. You’ve taken my playground so I’m going to make your daughter’s mind my new one. By the time she’s your age she’ll have long been locked in a useless existence….drooling from the corners of her mouth in a nursing home, getting applesauce laced with medications spooned down her throat. I’m going to bend and twist the recesses of her mind until it breaks and she’s just the shell of a little girl who should be, and a woman who could have been. Think about it Butch. You’ve already got one son rotting in the ground who should be alive, now you’ll have a daughter…who’d be better off dead.
A sadistic laugh escapes him and he stares straight ahead and begins to sing disturbingly.
(Senester): London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down. London Bridge is falling down, my fair lady. Take a key and lock her up, lock her up, lock her up. Take a key and lock her up……………..my fair lady.
A menacingly look is in his eyes as the scene fades to black.
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