HWA Message Board: Whetting the Appetite

The End of Havoc

They had lost track of time amidst the fray. Havoc’s broadcast had ended moments ago and they were crawling across the floor unseen as chaos in the garage ensued. Plumes of smoke consumed the high ceiling and had begun to get lower seemingly near unnoticed by their peers who persisted in their physical exchanges. They staggered to their feet, face bleeding and sore, throat and chest aching from being assaulted. Tequila rode in their veins like donuts on a lazy river, the wooziness was delightful. Their hands gripped the edge of the large gate at the entrance of the garage, and they pulled themselves upright looking back inside. Nothing but fists, feet, and fire. Their eyes glowed in delightful satisfaction. A dark maniacal laughter rose from the depths of their gut roaring out as they staggered away into the darkness of the night.

Hotel Hangover

The repeated sounds of doors opening and closing pulled her from a deep sleep. As her crusted eyes cracked open, bright light illuminated the room of her hotel signifying the day had long been underway. Another door slammed in the distance, others hotel patrons were getting out and about. Laying naked, face down and ass up in bed she stretched her arm out over to the nightstand to grab her phone and check the time.

(Erica): Fuk!

It was 9:47 a.m., she had long missed her flight, but more importantly wondered where her fuking cameraman was. Her phone indicated a few missed calls, and a couple voicemail message. The first message was some bullshit Spectrum internet call…she’d missed a payment again, big whoop! The second…her brother had called saying something about her mother getting up and skipping the rest of Havoc going straight to bed and crying herself to sleep. The third was a call from the corporate office, notifying her that access to a personal cameraman had been revoked….whatever.

She sat up in bed and her head suddenly throbbed like all hell and whipped back onto the headboard. It was a bad hangover and reached back over to the nightstand grabbing her cigarettes, lighting one and taking a deep drag. A bottle of tequila sat on the nightstand with barely a swig left but she downed it anyway and turned on the television…all free channel bullshit. Taking her phone in hand again she changed her flight, got up and showered with the intent on leaving this shit-ass city behind.

La Ciudad de Los Angeles – 7:16 p.m.

On the 6hr flight back to LA she’d mostly slept, sunglasses and a hoodie one and no one seemed to recognize her. She had called an Uber, got home and literally opened the door setting her luggage inside without entering herself, closed the door, got in her car and was headed to a bar. She’d grown fond of this place in the downtown area. Didn’t have a name out front, and was the kind of place where people went to be left alone, where their secrets were only shared with likeminded others and the owner, Scott…protected and supported his clientele. She knew he was into some shady shit, and it suited her fine.

She’d fuked Scott a couple times, a man in his mid-forties, graying, kept in shape and kept most everything else close to his chest. A chest with a thick patch of hair she had enjoyed. When she walked in, she saw familiar faces including his, and found a seat at the bar tonight instead of a booth. Scott made eye contact with her and grabbed a bottle off the back counter, a glass and set them down in front of her.

(Erica): Gracias!

He leaned onto the counter looking at her phone on the counter.

(Scott): You know the rules.

(Erica): Keep your panties on alright? It’s on me!

(Scott): Better be!

She’d already downed the first shot and he poured her another.

(Scott): Well you kicked the hornets’ nest last night.

Erica scoffs, and smiles.

(Erica): Fuk ‘em! Did you see that shit, trying to throw me out like that?

He nodded in response.

(Erica): Anyway…I showed ‘em.

(Scott): Word is there’s all kinds of crap hit the office today. Usual suspects…CBS, PETA…

(Erica): Yeah well…not my problem.

(Scott): Your friends have started chirping.

(Erica): Yeah? Like who?

Scott’s eyebrows raise as he picks up a glass and a rag cleaning dishwasher stains off it.

(Scott): You’re boyfriend Sean…..Wolfy, Tobias.

Scott laughs…

(Scott): That Tobias…he’s got potential.

Erica looks at him, like he stopped mid-sentence and had more to say.

(Erica): …but?

(Scott): …but Parker…the boy’s got…

(Erica): Cállate! Come on Scotty, don’t give me that shit.

(Scott): I’m just saying…your boys on point. He almost threw you through that car window…your ass would be sitting here extra crispy if pretty boy hadn’t stopped him. You see his promo?

She rolled her eyes!

(Erica): No!

Scott turned around grabbing the remote on his tv and turned from the Celtics – Pacers game, getting groans from patrons. Scott shouts back.

(Scott): Turn your fuking head Jimmy…there’s other tv’s.

Scott turns to the HWA app on his tv and hands Erica the remote. That little shit Wolfy’s running his mouth with his Skinky Skank bullshit.

(Erica): Wolfy, do you think I give a shit about anything you have to say? Fuk you Ese! So you’re done joking around eh? Gonna beat me up huh? Go jerk your dick with the other monkeys at the zoo, that’s the only thing you can beat. Oh hey…you like my fur coat? I can get one for you on the low homes.

She watches Tobias comments, smiling and laughing. Scotty, now back down the opposite end of the bar looks over at her with a slight grin and shakes his head.

(Erica): Tobias, mi amigo…escúchame! You we’re right! Look at those pendejos, Wolfy, Shark, Jesse, Kratos, who the fuk are they? Look at our talent, look at what we bring to the table, and look at what we get. I’m telling you…they’re doing to you the same thing they did to me.

They got you signed up, blew smoke up your ass about how talented you are, what a great addition to the roster you’ll be, made a bunch of promises about growth and opportunity and being a star and what the fuk do you get. You get dumped in the pool with Jesse a few months out of their bullshit Academy, and Wolfy a man they literally signed on the spot with no proven record. That’s what you’re worth to them.

She takes another shot.

(Erica): They’re intimidated by us, because you’re right…we’re better than the rest of them. It’s why they try and hold us down. We speak truth and they call it lies. You see Wolfy…running around with a replica belt telling people he stole it from you, and nobody seems to care that he’s lying. He doesn’t belong here, and doesn’t belong in a ring. I can’t wait for you to put his ass out.

She takes another shot, and lights a cigarette now watching Sean’s promo. Her face is expressionless as she takes it all in. By the time it’s over she’s smashing the butt of her cig in an ashtray and pouring another shot.

(Erica): Sean “Fuking” Parker. Since when has anybody called you an “Assassin?” Now you’re just making shit up. You couldn’t even get the job done at Havoc. Oh you did have me down, hit me, choked me…it was actually nice when I think about…I came at least once. I knew your dick was rock hard, but I didn’t know you were into erotic asphyxiation…we should do it again sometime.

They take away my camera privileges, but I see Uncle Butch and Auntie Wisdom spared no expense making a goddamn short film for their precious Sean. You think you’re the only one around here who trains hard? Ohhhh look at Sean lift some weight. Ohhhh look at Sean hit punching bags. Ohhhhh look at Sean run and sweat. You’re a fuking joke…you’re killing us with laughter. That’s about the only “assassinating” you’re doing!

Despite it being a bar, they actually have some amazing food and Scott sets a plate in front of Erica of Fettuccini Alfredo with Salmon and Broccolini in front of her. She looks at it and gives him a look.

(Scott): Shut up and eat it!

She takes a bit and starts talking with her mouth full.

(Erica): Mmmm…I do want to thank you though Sean…hold on here it is….

(Sean):….. My Aunt and Uncle’s names might be on the call sheets and paychecks, but Wisdom and Butch Parker don’t own it. Hans and Sensei? They sure as shit don’t own it. You all just occupy it because I allow it. Because, in reality, it’s my house.

Erica points gleefully at the screen.

(Erica): That…that right there….thank you! It’s everything I’ve been saying all along. Ignore me now you motherfukers….you got it from the horses mouth. This pendejo and his special treatment, got his balls heavy heading into Ring Master now and his true colors are showing it. Did you feel that slap in the face Hans? How about you Mr. Miyagi? Your all only around because he “allows it.” When are you people going to wake up to the conspiracies? I’m not crazy, I’m not lying. I’ve spoken the truth since day one and now you have proof. From the conceited brat’s own mouth. Now when he…

Erica suddenly stops speaking. The fork in her hand drops and clings on the plate. Her head jerks quickly to the left and eyes blaze red. The familiar growl, that deep demonic gargle of a voice.

(DreamMaster): Ring Master…the Reaper smells death on the air. And I….

DreamMaster sniffs the air deeply, eyes closed as if savoring it.

(DreamMaster): I smell your pain, your heartache, your disappointment, your sorrow, your regrets. 16 men’s worth of emotions feeding me and what we did at Havoc…that was an appetizer. I teased your palates as you have mine and now you’re all ready. Now you’re all at the height of your emotions as you head into the ultimate dark dance.

And you Maniac…the most loathsome soul of them all. Oh the depth of your suffering. You hate yourself. Such wonderfully deep scars of fear for what you’ve done. She’s mine now! You’ve never controlled anything, what makes you think there’s anything you can do now? I’d suck the juice from your eyeballs if I didn’t want you to see what’s coming next.

They will attempt to keep us out, but we cannot be caged. They will try to bind us with their rules, but we cannot be bound. We will do what we want, chaos and anarchy will reign and we will make Ring Master our playground and your blood, your sweat and all your tears will give us succor and there is nothing you can do to stop us!

Erica slumps a bit on her stool, shaking her head a little and a smile comes over her face. Scott’s looking at her from down the bar, taking his hand off the shotgun underneath the counter. She finished her pasta in silence and Scott came to collect her plate.

(Scott): Dessert?

She turns around on her seat, scanning the room. A man catches her eye, he’s been there before but they’ve not met. Good body, tall, dark hair, brooding personality.

(Erica): Si.…I think will.

Erica gets up and crosses the room standing in front of him at his table as the scene fades to black.