It’s evening now, you’ve just arrived home and you’re now in the driveway, having cut the ignition.
Outside, the hood of the McLaren is making gentle popping sounds as the heat held from the engine beneath dissipates, the rest of the car settling into its new place of rest with occasional noises of its own.
This silence, between the last moment of your music playing and the restrained fury of the engine ceasing, that gap until you ping the seatbelt off and pull the door open to let in whatever noise is happening outside the bubble. It doesn’t last long, never does.
Before you can reach for the seatbelt, your phone vibrates.
It’s been doing this the whole ride home.
You pop the seatbelt and then reach for your phone, disconnecting the cable connecting it to the car’s media kit as well.
What's this?
Notifications flood the screen.
You spend the next few seconds assessing them, interest piqued as most of them relate to the upcoming Havoc.
Your brow curls as you begin to read, eyebrows then arching.
The phone drops down into your lap briefly, your gaze fixed ahead as your brain ticks over at the card that’s been announced.
Interesting…
Another ping.
Eyes down, phone returned to its previous position.
Erica Martinez’s latest cry for help has been uploaded to the HWA media platforms.
The light from your phone screen flickers and changes, casting shadows and illuminating you in equal measure as you witness her descend further.
It comes to an end, the phone once more dropping into your lap.
Scheiße, das mädchen braucht hilfe.
You exhale, having had hopes to end this ridiculous series of events and sick fascination with you as soon as possible.
Herr Chaos first though?
So be it.
You pull the phone back up, opening up the camera option and flipping the view so it’s facing you.
Adjusting your shoulders and smoothing the wrinkles from your top out with your other hand, you clear your throat and then hit the record button.
(Hans): Guten abend HWA. I see the latest card has been announced. Herr Chaos unt I headlining Havoc. Wunderbar, I get to take him to task for all of the blödsinn he’s been spouting.
Das muss ich zugeben… jah, I must admit, leaving this situation with Erica to fester another week or two… not ideal, jah, not ideal.
Perhaps this will put to bed any such claims that I have a say in bookings though? Silver linings, jah?
You exhale out, lips pursing afterwards.
(Hans): Round two Herr Chaos then? I hope you’re a better swimmer now. Leave the saps at home and come take your beating like the snivelling little cretin that you are. I’d ask you to put on a brave face, but underneath that makeup, who’d know anyway?
You cut the recording, fingers tapping as you upload it to the HWA media platforms.
Reaching for the door handle, you look out towards your home and the knowledge of your wife being there waiting for you.
You smile.
The scene fades out.
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