(Erica): Puta madre…this is my fiancés house you idiot.
The front wall, and part of the foyer ceiling is blackened and smoke has filled the house as he escorts Maria outside.
Another officer is reading Erica her rights and putting her in the back of the police.
She continues yapping on as they put her in the back of the car and start to get a statement from a distraught Maria.
As the security footage ends the arena is in an uproar of boos.
The absolute fury on Hans’ face which is normally tranquil and even tempered is very apparent.
(Hans): Meine frau… this is my fault. I chalked this up as some silly little schoolgirl crush, or weird admiration…
Inside, you’re absolutely fuming. The words are being ground out of you like a glacier would carve its way through the land. This wasn’t what you were wanting to say, no, this is tame. This is polite, all things considered.
‘Some silly little schoolgirl crush, or weird admiration…?’
Understatement of the year.
(Hans): I brushed her off and ignored it because it wasn’t relevant, but the more I ignored her the more she carried on with this nonsense.
Deep breath. You need to say this out loud for everyone at the back.
(Hans): There is nothing between us Erica other than the twisted fantasies in your own mind.
You mean what’s coming, enough was enough.
(Hans): The games are over, and we’re pressing charges. This ends here and it ends now.
"So Called Life" by Three Days Grace hits the arena.
Your head snaps up at the sound, eyes narrowing, muscles tightening, gripping that mic in your hand even tighter.
Fight or flight it’s called, that spike of adrenalin and hyper awareness.
Fight.
You hear the fans in the arena boo loudly as Maniac makes his way out onto the stage in a wheelchair. He’s still bandaged from the ppv in various places, his arm is in a sling, leg is in a brace and he’s still decorated with scars yet to heal.
I hope he’s in f*cking agony.
(Maniac): This ends here and now? Is that what you think Hans?
Yes. The f*ck do you think you’re going to do? Crawl into the ring and flail at my ankles?
(Maniac): You lead a young woman on for months and then toss her aside like a used condom.
Excuse me?
(Maniac): You’re right about one thing… this is your fault. Poor Erica is missing Havoc because of you.
You’re almost taken aback for a brief second at the sheer brazenness.
You gas-lighting schweinhund! How dare you?
Your judgment quashes that immediate internal outburst down.
(Hans): She’s missing Havoc because she broke into my house and set it on fire.
You know full well it won’t make a difference. Black is white, right is left, Herr Chaos isn’t going to care about facts.
(Maniac): Am I the only one who watched your video? You literally just played it. She didn’t break into anything… your maid let her in. She was bringing you a gift, you ungrateful pr*ck!
Under false pretense, you stupid pr*ck!
(Maniac): Something to liven up that infested house you moved into… did you see that roach on the wall? She was trying to kill it, not set the house on fire.
Oh to be standing right beside him at this moment. You’d had it up to here with him. The fires and explosions from ‘Art of War’ hadn’t improved his looks, you’d give it a go with your fists and the heel of your boot though.
No. Calm it down.
Another deep breath as you raise that mic up.
(Hans): I don’t have time for a ride on your crazy train Maniac.
(Maniac): You know Vanessa, don’t feel bad about those sad little pregnancy tests. Ole Hans here might be shooting blanks, so it’s not your fault. How about I call Thane Givens for you, we both know he can get the job done.
No, f*ck him, that’s it, that’s too far.
A red mist descends and you’re through the ropes even as the last words leave his mouth.
You’re flying up that ramp, you see the eyes widen and the sudden grip on the wheels, rotating him around as he starts to move.
You’re close, close enough to grasp the greasy strands of his hair.
You’re running right into Butch.
No!
He’s got a hold of you, he’s using his body as a breakwall, you’re pushing him back.
Let me at him!
You’re screaming something incoherent. Could be in your native tongue, might be in English, probably more akin to a howl of rage.
(Butch): It’s alright man, it’s ok!
He’s pushing you back now, he’s got help from officials. They’re swamping you.
F*ck!
The scene fades out briefly, coming back in on the aftermath of your match with Draconis and the now familiar intervention of Maniac into the proceedings..
You’re coming to, lying on the ground between the ring and the commentary table, the lights of the arena dazzling you.
Your head is pounding. It’s sore from where you’ve been attacked with the blackjack…
Always with the weapons…
… and from where you’ve them slumped to the ground, banging your head off the arena floor.
The lights above are obscured somewhat by the sight of your wife close by your side, moving back in, Sean Parker not far from her.
Your head lolls the other way, you catch the view of Draconis being slid out of the ring and onto a trolley.
That was a good match. You remember that at least, the shaking hands at the end… that clutching hand on your shoulder and the sensation of vomit hitting your boots…
I hope he’s ok.
You’re being pulled to your feet now, a medic shining a torch in your eyes for your troubles, another trying to let you lean on him for support.
Pushing him away gently, you were going to walk up that ramp under your own steam.
First things first though.
No sign of Herr Chaos. That rat had scarpered.
Your lungs exhale the air slowly through your nostrils, your eyes blinking to clear the stars and to double check for any signs of him.
Fight or flight?
Fight.
You’re walking up that ramp now, face like thunder. A mixture of anger and agony mixed together.
Ah scheiße.
Some blood is starting to trickle down your forehead now…
Always with the weapons…
You glance up at the empty Havoctron, mercifully silent now that Sean had smashed Maniac’s phone.
The screen is black.
Black.
Like the fire damage.
Black like your mood.
Scheiße…
You find yourself very hollow inside, as you now start to recall what Erica had said and what she’d shown up on that screen.
Finding your wife next to you, as if on auto pilot, you come to a halt, seeing her looking at you with the weight of the world behind her eyes.
A million and one thoughts pass through that brain of yours at this time. Thane Givens. Herr Chaos. Your brother’s two children. The times you’ve looked after Butch and Wisdom’s two kids. Those visits you’ve done for the Make-A-Wish foundation and the local hospitals…
You shut down inside.
It’s just too much.
You turn to Vanessa instinctively, pulling her into your arms. Reaching up with your left hand, you gently grab her by the back of the head and pulling her into your chest as your eyes look back up at the empty Havoctron.
The scene fades out as around him, the others walk past on the ramp upwards the back while the fans start to filter out of the arena.
Message Thread
« Back to index