HWA Message Board: We Need to Meet

-Part 1-

The von Richtoven home, Silver Lake, CA – 15:38 p.m.

The scene opens out onto the interior of your home, the kitchen to be precise.

You’re clearing away the remains of what you’d made for lunch and prepping for what you’d be doing for dinner.

In between that time you’d been at pains, fixated even, on keeping your mind on anything but what is now churning inside that brain of yours. That morning run hadn’t helped, in so much as yes, it had helped you set a new personal best down the final loop of the back three streets, but it was at the cost to your inner tranquility.

Lunch had seen you cutting slices of cold meat to serve… only you’d wished it wasn’t prosciutto or chorizo…

A dip in the pool had seen you imaging her at the bottom of the it.

Yes, so much for a ‘relaxing’ day at home. Even helping your wife with some new mics and cables for her studio space had seen you imagining how many loops around her throat it would take before you crushed out whatever it was that currently rooted in…

No, this wouldn’t do. You needed to change things up, ever since returning home from Ringmaster, you’d been on edge. Yes, the restraining order had ended, that played it’s part, but Erica had escalated things with taking on this ‘DreamMaster’ persona.

A scoff escapes you at that thought.

‘Or so she says…’

You cease your movement, head tilting back, a sigh forming.

‘But I can’t let this go on.’

Nothing happens for a few seconds, you’re at war within yourself.

But, something breaks.

Out comes your iPhone and you’re swiping to what you’ve got in your contacts list… you’re clicking on the ‘blocked’ contacts now…

‘There.’

Staring down at the screen, it’s like you’re waiting for permission to do anything.

A glance up at the room around you, empty barring yourself.

The horrible memories of that waking nightmare some months ago jump to the forefront of your mind. God it had seemed so real. Your breath catches in your throat as you relive it.

That unleashes a whirlwind of other moments, Erica setting your wife’s hair ablaze, your wife crying uncontrollably in your car, sitting with Maria as she received stitches after she’d been assaulted that night, speaking to Erica’s poor mother…

‘Scheiße… she’s caused so much harm…’

You look down. You’d already typed out a message.

‘Meet me outside. You know the spot. The same spot you’re always lurking at. We need to talk.’

Your nostrils flare as you take it in, eyes flickering over the words again and again.

You press the send button and almost as quickly drop the phone down onto the counter beside you, as if it’s a scalding object burning your hand.

You grasp with both hands the counter, steadying yourself, calming your breathing.

This had to end. Had to.

Staring at the phone, sitting there silently, you know that won’t start to happen until you hear back.

And that thought kills you.

Fade out.

-Part 2-

The lime in her margarita was about the only thing she’d come close to eating in the last few days. Her bender after Ring Master has been destructive. She’d gotten some of what she wanted, but the knot and stiches on her head were a reminder that she didn’t get everything. Beside her was man, handsome, goatee, the smell of his leather vest, the word Mongols stitched on the back always excited her. They’d met at the Mayan some months back and they’d become somewhat of Friends with Benefits for one another.

His hand was down her unzipped pants, fingers working her as she kissed him, the taste of weed and tequila on his breath. She pulled his hand out from insider her, moved over and straddled him, taking his glass off the table, taking his hand and stirring the drink with his fingers. She put the drink to his lips and made him drink it all down then kissed him. He phone vibrated in her pocket and she pulled it out.

(Erica): What the…

She scooted back over in the booth off his lap. He looks down at his bulging hard-on, then to her.

(Biker): What the fuk?

(Erica): Callate!

Erica looked at her phone in disbelief, reading Hans’ name on the screen. She opened the text and read his…..she laughed out loud.

(Erica): I gotta go!

(Biker): Fuk that shit, where the fuk you going?

(Erica): Something’s come up, I’ll catch you later.

She squeezed out of the booth zipping her pants up, reached over him grabbing her glass and slurping down the last of her drink and headed out the door. Talk? He wants to talk, she thought. That wasn’t likely. It was more likely that he wanted to trap her, trick her into coming to his house where he’s got his little police friends on standby so he can drop a call and make up some bullshit story so he can get his little restraining order reinstated for that pregnant bitch of his.

(Erica): Fuk it, doesn’t matter.

As she walked to the car, she texted back…

“Como desées”

She got in her car reaching over to the glove compartment for a flask. As his words rang in her head…

“Meet me outside. You know the spot. The same spot you’re always lurking at. We need to talk.

She took a swig, and shoved it back in the compartment.

(Erica): Si! Si papi, let’s talk!

She wipes a dripple of booze from her chin with the back of her hand, starts the engine and heads out with a dastardly smile on her face.

Fade out.

-Part 3-

Outside the von Richtoven home, Silver Lake, CA – 18:21 p.m.

You’re sat on your driveway, cross legged, back almost ram-rod straight and with both hands placed on your thighs for support.

Nestled safely are your earbuds, the sound of music drowning out the ambient sound of the neighborhood around you. You’d at first tried to go for calming songs, but right now, the average BPM of what you’ve got pounding more closely mirrored your beating heart rate.

‘Can’t be good for you, no?’

The smile that flits across your face briefly at that doesn’t reach the eyes, hidden as they are behind your aviators.

Several meters directly across from you, the steel slotted door that secures your driveway is opened, hugging the whitewashed wall it’s mounted to, giving you an unobstructed view of the road.

It looks so different in the day. So peaceful. So harmless. This is a good neighborhood, the Callahans next door were lovely, then across the street were the Boyd’s, they’d been the first to welcome you to the place all those months ago.

But how different this place became at night, when monsters like Erica were allowed out.

Better to do this in the day.

Movement catches your eyeline, drawing your attention to the road.

You didn’t need your hearing to know that the car was being obnoxiously driven, over revved and a hazard to anyone else at that point in time.

You pop the earbuds out, slotting them into the small container they reside in when not being used, sliding that into your back pocket as you get to your feet.

A gentle side to side motion of your head loosens the muscles, if not the tension.

She’s here.

You slowly walk towards the parked car, right where it had been some nights before.

It had been a few weeks since you’d last actually seen her face to face now that you thought about it.

’She looks like sh*t. I’ve seen heroin junkies look healthier.’

Disgust leaks in to your emotions as you draw closer, even as you fight against that to maintain that white hot heat of anger. You didn’t want to dilute this, not now.

She’s standing by the front of her car now, driver’s door still open…

’‘Do I smell drink…?’

You draw to a halt several short paces from her on the sidewalk.

You stare at one another, you could swear you saw red flash in her eyes, though she as yet can’t see the daggers you’re throwing from yours behind the aviators.

-Part 3-

Erica shifts her gaze from Hans, turning back to the car reaching in to grab her pack of cigarettes on the dash. She lights one, takes a drag and blows a puff of smoke out the corner of her mouth. There he was, the man who had ruined her life. The man who once upon a time Maniac stood up against on her behalf. Why was he just standing there staring at her? Why didn’t he say something?

She’d already started to sweat in those few moments since exiting the car. It was 100 fuking degrees plus this week in LA. She shifted her gaze over at the house. So pristine, the well landscaped front, probably something underway in the kitchen for dinner. The fuking tease, fraud, liar, he never had any intention of sharing this with her.

She’d only taken a puff or two of the cigarette in that brief moment of their greeting and had already grown annoyed with it. Throwing it into the street. She could swear that she detected a disapproving look in his body language as if she sullied his street with her trash…she didn’t give a shit.

(Erica): Estoy aqui Papi, que queries?

(Hans): Ich bin nicht dein “Papa“ Erica…

He shakes his head, folding his arms across his chest.

(Hans): I never have been, und…

A small glance to one side, clear that he’s glancing at where the butt of her cigarette had been thrown.

(Hans): … I never will be.

She shrugs her shoulders indifferently with a slight roll of her eyes.

(Erica): So, you gonna invite me in to “talk” or we gonna stand out here and fry like fuking chicharrones?

Hans doesn’t move a muscle, content to stand where he is, drawing a scowl from her.

A further gesture to his home behind him causes him to slowly turn his head around, allowing the driveway he’d walked down to come into his eyeline.

With a small chuckle, he returns his attention towards Erica.

(Hans): We’re going to stand out here Erica.

With a finger, he gestures down towards the ground.

(Hans): Tatsächlich, this ist why I asked you here… this spot, jah? This street? You never come closer than you do today. Take a look around, mach ein foto, wenn du willst…

Her face bunches up at him treating her like he was scolding dog. Him pointing to the ground at a single spot as if she just took a shit there and he was rubbing her nose in it.

(Erica): You asked me to come look at a fuking spot on the street? Ever heard of Google maps? Could have saved me a trip.

(Hans): Jah, I did…

He knows that’s an antagonistic answer, but he can’t help himself.

Holding up a hand to forestall the comeback, he adds.

(Hans): Because Google Maps doesn’t come with a warning, that if you do step closer…

The finger now gestures at her leg. The very one he’d locked in and shattered during their bout at Havoc at the end of 2023.

(Hans): That will happen again, jah. No more games Erica. No more ’visits’ unannounced. No more stalking my wife.

Erica looks at him and laughs. Was he threatening her? Warning her? No, there was something else he wanted. The demon inside her could smell it. She looks at the spot he marked with his finger and stepped forward over it, coming closer to him. He didn’t budge as she came nearly face to face, or chest to face rather he eyes training up from his chiseled stature, the veins along the nape of his neck, then to his face as if she could see behind the lens of his glasses.

(Erica): Is that all you got? “I’ll break your ankle again?” No…you want something and we think we know what it is, and we’re sure we know why.

She’s so close to him now the stench of her cigarette breath invades his nostrils.

(Erica): You want us to leave you alone. You want your freedom back. You want to go away and not worry that your bitch wife will panic and freeze and forget the code for the security system. You want to not look over your shoulder or out your window wondering if we’re watching. You’re afraid for….her. Para esa pequeña criatura inside her. You want us to just… stop and go away.

She could see his body tense, it was easy to imagine what he wanted to do. What he envisioned doing to her and she smirked at him taking a step back.

(Erica): We’ll make you a deal. A promise, a bloodpact…we’ll give you what you want in exchange for…how about…in exchange for something we want.

She looked down at the ground, her feet now just behind the spot Hans pointed to. She looks up and grins at him.

A small tic twitches at the corner of his cheek, drawing his lip up a fraction.

(Hans): ’Us’?

Unchecked comes a dismissive noise from the back of his throat.

(Hans): Us? Perhaps I should have called for an exorcist while I waite…

He places his hands on his hips, cutting himself off abruptly, not wanting to go down this route, for now.

A moments pause to take in and process what she’d said, all the while she stands there, still smiling, that cigarette smell just pouring off her like gasoline.

(Hans): Ich werde dich belustigen… Pray tell, what might this exchange be?

She looks at his now stoney demeanor, stepping back once again to get a full view of him head to toe. The red in her eyes flash with a jerk of her shoulder and head.

(Erica/DreamMaster): The Baron! The 3rd Pillar! The 1st believes he can rid this world of us, exile us, banish us, save the vessel he discarded. The 1st is wrong, he has been lied to, he does not possess the means, or the power. New allies, and old bones…

They grin, a demonic mask drapes their face, and they laugh.

(Erica/DreamMaster): Thousands in my wake…mere dust and empty ancient words on his path to failure, yet he must believe his cause to be true. You will assist me. You will stop him even if it means stopping another, the one who aids him from the shadows. Your friend, your brother, the 2nd…Butch Parker. This is your task…end Maniac and they…

The red eyes look over at the house and they sniff the air, sensing, smelling Vanessa and their unborn child inside her.

(Erica/DreamMaster): ….they, have nothing to fear from me, that is my word, my oath, my promise…but as his demise is what you also wish for yourself…it is only half of the whole of what we want.

The eyes and voice go back to normal, and Erica stands before him once more. Again, she steps closer.

(Erica): And then there is the other half, Lo que quiero.

She looks him in the eyes.

(Erica): I want you. I want one night. I want you inside me. Sweaty, sticky, suckling, raunchy, non-stop fuking. Oh si papi, yo quiero todo! You give me what I want…and I swear on my Father and Brother’s souls…you, and them…

She nods her head toward his house.

(Erica): Will cease to exist to me!

They smile at Hans again.

(Erica/DreamMaster): We know you Baron! You may dislike him, but he hates you. Oh yes, he does…we know. He may be the 1st Pillar, but he always found himself outshined by the other two. The two binary stars orbiting one another, shining, twinkling, dazzling the masses while his still, pale light remained, unremarkable.

In the early years you bested him at every turn and it ate at his insides. He couldn’t beat you so he turned to your brother…to Heinrich and beat him but it did not fill the void, and then you went away and his opportunity never came. He left, the company died, and the past was forgotten until…

They smile looking at Hans again, eyes greedy.

(Erica/DreamMaster): Until the Parker’s mass invitation. He returned, and for many reasons, but one…one Baron was you. He knew you’d come. Last July when you met one-on-one he was so certain that time would be on his side. Finally, he would bring the egotistical, sanctimonious Baron to his knees……but he failed again. That is when it came to him. He could use… her… to get to you. He was the 1st, his influence could empower 100 recruits from the academy, but she was willing, and a very apt pupil. When you met once more in November he was ready, the might of the 3rd had been weakened and for the first time in twenty years, Maniac, the Human Horror Reel stood victorious over the Baron. You cannot imagine his delight, they left you so defeated, so enraged that you, the 3rd were forced to wield your own secret weapon calling upon the 2nd who gave you the power to call your own match, and you challenged her. I smell it in your blood. I see it in your eyes. You want to end this cycle, for yourself, for your family. The 2nd works against you in this effort, so it is we who shall grant you the power this time. Two small acts and you will know true peace and freedom.

They stand there looking at Hans awaiting his reply.

Almost rocking back on his heels, he does his best to mask his emotions currently in turmoil below the surface.

This was… this was unexpected… unwanted… undesirable…

Unacceptable.

He stiffens, neck muscles going taut, hair on the back of his neck rising like hackles. What he’d heard he didn’t like. What he’d seen cross Erica’s face multiples times as she’d… he’d… they’d spoke… it was unnatural.

Hands dropping to the side, one bunching into a fist, he leans in.

(Hans): Monsters far worse than you have asked for far less. Put an end to Herr Chaos? At the rate he smokes und drinks? He’ll beat me to that, jah, und so what if he hates me? All those years he hated me und done nothing about it? Nein, nein, ich werde nicht.

He spits on the ground at their feet.

(Hans): Betray mein freund Butch?

The ground is impacted by another dose of contempt spat from between Hans’ lips.

(Hans): Und a night with you?

The silence is loaded, as Erica stares at him, seeing for what his eyes show behind the mirrored sheen of his aviators.

(Hans): Nein Erica. Nein, nicht jetzt, niemals.

(Erica): But you called me here, why? Why, if not to make a deal? To deny me to my face? You need to show your machismo Papi? Need to prove to yourself that you’re not sitting idle? Why are you so fuking stubborn?

Erica stomps on the ground like a child, her arms flailing at her side as she rages. Her lunacy constantly shifts her from one end of the spectrum to another and suddenly she screams as if in tremendous pain, eyes blaze red as her head tilts up and her hand grabs Hans by the throat in a choking, vice-like grip. Her face is not her own, the muscles so tight and contorted, eyebrows arched high and a snarl across her mouth baring her teeth.

(DreamMaster): You should have taken then deal. You could have had your peace, but the 3rd chooses to put his faith in the 2nd…a man who has already betrayed him.

The demon shoves Hans back releasing his grip and steps forward to the large gate of his home. The voice, the growling dark, demonic voice invades this space as it looks up to a specific 2nd floor window.

(DreamMaster): I wonder, when its born, when its lids open and you stare into its beautiful, crimson eyes…will you still love it?

His head turns and a sick grin is on his face before suddenly Erica’s body drops to the ground and it takes her a moment to get her bearings as she looks around. There are tears in her eyes and she looks over at Hans, pushing herself up off the ground.

(Erica): Una noche…that’s all I wanted….one pinche noche! No…you spit at me instead. You rather continue your crusade, your conspiracy against me.

Erica starts laughing as she reaches into her pocket and pulls out her butterfly knife…Click Clack…

(Erica): You rather continue to look over your shoulder and wonder where I am, you rather wake up in the middle of the night looking out the window to see if I’m outside. You rather let her live in fear and keep her locked inside. He’ll stop you, ya know…Maniac. You want to break me, but he wishes to “save” me.

She grins.

(Erica): Your goals are incompatible, and he’s aligned himself with your best friend, and brings others to his side…his old friend, old partner Lunatik. Who do you have? You’re just like me…you’ve got fuking nobody.

She sighs and looks at Hans’ house.

(Erica): You’ve made him angry. I don’t know what he’ll do, I don’t know what we’ll do, but I do know one thing…my offer stands. At least…it does until its too late. You think about it Hans. You can eat your fuking pride, or you can eat my fuking pussy.

She doesn’t wait for a response she turns and starts walking back towards her car

Left on the ground, eyes tracking her car until it disappears, Hans slams a hand onto the tarmac in frustration.

This, whatever this was that he'd experienced... no, he hadn't wanted this... this wasn't how it was meant to have gone.

(Hans): Scheiße…

The scene fades slowly to black, as he continues to lay there, chest rising and falling as he takes in what's just happened.