HWA Message Board: Perhaps You'll Listen Now

"Out of the mouth of the most High proceedeth not evil and good? Wherefore doth a living man complain, a man for the punishment of his sins?" (Lamentations 3: 38-39)

It’s nearly 2 days following Havoc. Senester has returned to the Lady Moura on loan from his new business partner Nasser Al-Rashid from Saudi Arabia. Once more we find him relaxing on the deck, a refreshing pitcher of mojitos at his side and a platter with a selection of grilled seafood and vegetables. A look of gratification is on his face as thinking about the overall events of Havoc.

(Senester): In ancient Rome, the plebeians would gather by the thousands in numbered seats for the greatest form of entertainment of the time. At the command of the Empire’s leaders by names such as Caesar …men were sentenced to face their destiny against one another or against savage beasts…lions of course being the popular and common selection. Some were gladiators, most were common criminals. The masses were entertained and the lords and leaders well appealed. As you can see by the events of Havoc, little has changed. The plebeians gathered to be entertained and at the command of God a lion, a gladiator was unleashed against common criminals in Anton and Davis.

DNA…you are misled you poor creatures of misfortune. Whatever made you believe that any scheme you toiled over would come to fruition against me? You have questions that need answering, and I have the answers. You needn’t have attempted in beating them out of me, you could have simply asked. Unfortunately, there are consequences to your actions, some of which you discovered immediately. You’ve needlessly wandered onto the radar screen. Although just a minor ping, you are a blip nonetheless that will feel the measure of your transgressions in due time. You think your lives have taken a turn towards misfortune? You think that you’ve been abandoned by your friends? You long for the days of your penthouse living and now that the party is over…now that everyone has gone home you are left to clean up by yourselves. Don’t blame me. It wasn’t my will that the jezebel, Hennessey seduced Talon. It wasn’t Eddie who turned is back on you. It wasn’t Talon who couldn’t help himself…your problems are your own. I’ve told the world who Talon is, and you refuse to listen. Challenging me will not make him your friend once more, it will not bring the return of your parties. It will make him your martyr. It will bring about the celebration of your lives by those you leave once I destroy you. Beg my forgiveness DNA, and I may spare you. Repent. Confess your sins before the masses and you may find God’s grace. Hold true to your transgression and you shall surely meet my wrath.

It would appear that my Baron has devised a match I am sure he has anticipated, furthermore sparked by the events of Havoc. Good luck, you will be in need of more than your normal share gentlemen. Speaking however of my Baron... Congratulations Hans on your win. My every expectation was met in the delivery of your performance. I had hoped in the end that we would share yet another handshake as we had in the beginning, but perhaps another time. Understandably the moment may have been somewhat…unexpected, on your end. That being said, my question remains Baron….“Why not?”

Logan Neilson, I hope you enjoyed your run at the helm. You’ve made even more enemies than you previously had. Now no one trusts you. Now you must do what should have been required of you from the start. The respect that had been given has been taken away, and now you must earn it. You have you work cut out for you Logan, and you should anticipate a few twists and sharp turns in your road as you too are on the radar. This week you should thank my Baron for your match at Havoc. He has placed you in front of Ronnie McNeil which does not bode well for you. The firing line of a desperate man is not somewhere most men want to be, let alone someone of your lesser capabilities. You’ve ridden the comber waves of HWA too long dear Logan, let us now watch as the tide carries you out to more treacherous waters. Even the kindred Ms. Lang has downgraded her remarks towards you. You sill either make it to shore once more, you will sink, or you will find yourself alone on a derelict island. Tread carefully Logan Neilson, for it is not the sharks in the water you need concern yourself with. It’s what awaits in the dark abyss. Take heed.

And now…. my disciples. Curt Evers and Sheik Shakir. For some unknown and irrelevant reason to me, my Baron has assigned for us to meet at Havoc in a handicap match. Do you think you’ve penance paid is enough gentlemen? Are you ready to break bread with God, to drink from my chalice? No one can help you in your pilgrimage to the holy land. In the end, only your own deeds will be accounted for. Listen to the word. These are desperate times my disciples. Times in which men whose glory has long gone, now seek vigorously to regain it. Times in which men who yet to have any grandeur of their how seek to taste it on tongues for the first time. Through divinity, I see the division…invisible lines drawn around the masses. I see your line, but you cannot know where or how far it is. At Havoc I am curious to see what you will do. I am interested in how you might proceed once the bell has been rung and you stand across from the master for the very first time. I am not undefeatable. A champion the caliber of AC James had his share of difficulty against you last week, perhaps I too shall meet the same end. Will it be a Canadian Sandstorm for me, or will defeat be yours for the taking gentlemen?

Last and certainly not least…the World Heavyweight Champion…my beloved Talon. It goes without saying that your night at Havoc was not one of your finer evenings. Hounded by reporters…a rent-a-car destroyed…Jumped by an assailant…a lost match….taunted by your former best friend. This is what your rejection has brought you to. The world gets colder the further you distance yourself from me Talon. You are the new Pluto Talon, far away from the golden rays of Gods glory. It’s out little secret it seems that just like Pluto you are not the planet the plebeians think you are. It’s going to bring tears of joy to my eyes when you fall. When you crash at the feet of your believers I will smile. When your mask cracks and the façade of your being is unveiled I will look at the sea of hoodwinked fans of yours with vindication. You have no doubt been a rocket Talon. You’ve shot to the stars into the cosmos, but once more…you’ve overshot your destination by my side and propelled yourself to the colder, dark regions of Pluto. I believe you now find yourself, out of fuel Talon. You’ve past the point of no return. You are a drift in my universe and there is only one thing left for you to do….Pray. Pray to me Talon. Pray for forgiveness. Pray that I will absolve of your sins, for turning away from me, for baiting me with you kiss, for attempting to undermine me at every turn. Pray that I will grant you the ear you’ve denied me. Pray that I will allow some measure of gravity to suck you in and bring you back to me, or even selfishly pray to your own demise, begging to crash back to earth and lose everything. Remember this Talon…what goes up in the mortal world, must come down. I can catch you if you allow me, or I can watch you burn in the atmosphere and feel the rain of your ashes.

Senester sits back and takes a sip of his drink as the Lady Moura cuts through the sea and the scene fades to black.