You’re sitting on a small stool facing the camera, clad in a nondescript grey t-shirt over a pair of olive green cargo pants.
You catch a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the camera before you, you’re freshly showered and clothed, having been working out with the new recruits today. Tomorrow you’re scheduled in with Alexis in the morning, Michelle in the afternoon. Wednesday? Well, whatever Matthew wished to prioritize, the latest rookies, or perhaps work with Luna.
Anyway, no time like the present, get this done, then head home.
You reach down, and flick one of the buttons on the remote, a small timer up on the wall above you counts down from 5.
4.
3.
2.
1.
Go.
(Hans): Ah, Herr Chaos. There you are.
You’re smiling, gesturing towards the camera as you say this.
A quick tap on your chest and you’re continuing to speak.
(Hans): I’m a man of routine, jah. I wake early, ich trinke meinen kaffee, come to the Academy, train, teach, learn… I enjoy the peace from hearing your voice… a few days go by like this, but then I think to myself, if I’m not thinking about you, who will? Unt so I get sad, I need to give you some meaning… so I say things, unt…
Your arms go wide.
(Hans): Ta-da, out of the woodwork you squirm, having grasped more loose ends with which to try unt make a point.
The index finger on your left hand is wagging at the camera now.
(Hans): The word ‘try’ is doing a lot of heavy lifting there Herr Chaos. A lot.
Having leant in with the last few words, you stay somewhat hunched over, clasping your hands together, bracing your elbows on your thighs.
(Hans): Let’s be honest, you just wake up unt regardless of what personality has control, the one thing you can all agree on, besides having a fascination with my balls, is that you’re just going to talk quatsch.
A small shake of the head, let the disdain be evident.
(Hans): So what is it this time? Right off the bat we have drei große reichweiten… just assuming that because I slip into meine muttersprache, that I’m mad. Nein, allows me to be more… accurate, with what I’m saying Herr Chaos. But if it helps you sleep, who am I to argue.
You shrug your shoulders.
If he wants to think that way, let him.
(Hans): Up next, lame unt failed attempts to piss you off? Herr Chaos, if I happen to piss you off, it’s a very, very, very happy side effect of just calling out your scheiße…
A small squint smile flits across your face.
(Hans): … unt then, that look in my eye? Well, nice of you to notice Herr Chaos, I see you’ve finally looked up from my crotch…
You wonder how long it’ll be before he starts getting fixated on your balls again. Surely not long.
Not that he’s got a retort to me saying he’s hiding behind Erica’s skirt though… hah…
A fraction of a smirk forms before you quash it and your thoughts, focusing on the camera.
(Hans): Before I go Herr Chaos, one thing you won’t have to concern yourself with is looking for mein eyes, or mein crotch anywhere near your match with Price. Unlike you, I feel no need to interfere in someone else’s match. But fair warning, try any such games yourself later on.
You lean in close to the camera.
(Hans): You’ll need to bring out all of your cheap weapons to stop me.
You let that sink in.
(Hans): Train well Herr Chaos.
Words said, you thumb the relevant button on the remote, ending the recording.
Getting to your feet, you cross over to the relevant screens, checking it, making sure everything is audible and clear before uploading it to the HWA media platforms.
With that, your day at the Academy is complete and your thoughts turn to that of the drive home to your wife.
The scene fades out to black.
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