HWA Message Board: Flashbacks

Thursday morning – 14:55 p.m. PT – Los Angeles, CA

It’s later in the day and despite your best efforts, you’re no better off than you were first thing.

You’d held it together in sparring, one or two minor slips had been jokingly put down to anyone in earshot as a hangover from your match with Jeremy.

You’d smiled and taken the ribbing from your sparring partner, joking about how he’d be moving in a decade or so’s time in response.

The whole time though was akin to playing a third person game, you were watching someone else's actions, hearing someone else's words.

Right now at this very moment, you’re slumped into a comfortable black leather chair in your office. The lights are dimmed low and the blinds drawn, no music is playing from the smart speaker and the laptop is unpowered and closed.

It’s just you.

You and your intrusive thoughts.

In one hand is a glass of water that you poured some time ago, it’s half drunk but you can’t recall the last time you sipped it.

In the other hand is your phone.

Doom scrolling they call it.

’Appropriate term.’

One corner of your mouth drifts upwards in response to that thought, as your thumb drags itself over the screen, moving down the feed you’re on. Shadows play out across your face as move past news stories, puff pieces, ‘opinions’ designed to rile and drive a divide… celebrity gossip…

That makes your thumb scroll faster.

’Sports… what’s been happening?’

The autosport section had the upcoming MotoGP race at Silverstone… more discussions on the summer break nonsense that always erupted in Formula 1… then there was the Hall of Fame NFL game that night. You’d no doubt that your father in law would be watching. You’d be getting a play by play commentary via your WhatsApp.

Perhaps watching it might help?

’I can wind him up that way, no?’

Another small tug at the corner of your mouth. You’d done that plenty of times over the years, just responding back with ‘that was never a flag on the play’ or ‘still not learned from Bountygate I see’ or whatever else sprung to mind.

It near enough always derailed him, albeit for about 5 minutes at most. In person he’d just be able to turn round and stare at you until you cracked and smiled.

Yes, online, with your father in law, you were a troll alright. A right keyboard warrior.

’Speaking of keyboard warriors…’

You’ve come across a segment reviewing Maniac’s latest promo and the implications it could have…

You can’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes back and snorting with amusement.

Skimming the article, not really taking it as you’d already heard his words earlier, you can’t help but think back on other recent times he’d aimed words at you.

Closing your eyes, comments and quips from him flash to life.

(Maniac): And then we have the latest from Hans, Herr Heuchler himself.

You sigh, you can feel it.

’Do I have to start here?’

(Maniac): Now Hans, apparently you’re having a hard time in believing that I’ve changed. It’s also apparent that you think I’m lying about all of this as well, as if I’m playing some sick game. Well Hans allow me to let you in on a little secret… I don’t care Hans.

You roll your eyes at that.

Inside, you’re already picturing the next.

(Maniac): You get the point Hans, at least I hope you can let your self-righteousness see the point but I doubt it. Of course like always you’ll gloss over the fact that at BST you once again took out Red Dragon with your barbwire bat, but God forbid anyone bring that up…

’Urgh… new material, please…’

(Maniac): That’s just the tip of the iceberg. Give it time and stick around long enough, and you’ll see what I mean. Though I do find it hard to believe you don’t see or hear the condescending tone in Hans’s voice when he talks, especially about me, I mean, did you see his last promo? The man straight out said he was better than me, I swear if that’s not a sign of a massive ego, I don’t know what is. But that’s going to be their downfall in my rise to the top, that even includes Toby boy.

Faster and faster, these scenes overtake you.

(Maniac): Until… once again the Germans invade personal space. I don’t know what she told him but he put his personal shit above the greater good, and what I’m doing… trust me… it is for the greater good. I’m trying to save a woman’s life, a human being and he’s worried about idle threats from a twisted demon.

Not that you can feel it, but your teeth grind at the mention of invasion.

(Maniac): Keep trying to get under my skin Hans, you won’t succeed but it sure is hilarious to see you try all the while I’m living rent free in your head. That’s why you can’t stop obsessing about my win over you, especially with the fact that I cheated to win REALLY burns you and that obsession is going to be your downfall at Ringmaster.

Like an unwanted but not unexpected guest, she appears. Your skin crawls and the hairs on the back of your neck tingle.

(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…

You can practically see Maniac grab the microphone before you as he almost mercifully takes precedence in your racing thoughts.

(Maniac): Well it seems that our mutual German friend has yet again made a deal with a demon. You seem to have a knack for doing that Ludwig, especially when you’re in a bind. I’m of course referring to your deal with Senester back then and now DreamMaster/Erica, and like I said back in Nashville… just incase you need a refresher.

Not to be outdone, you get railroaded back to what Erica has to say.

(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…

She smiles the most horrific smile looking at you again, her 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.

You find yourself leaning it, muscles going limp as you blink.

End of Havoc – 9:05 p.m. ET – Nashville, TN

You blink, releasing Erica unceremoniously, letting her drop to the ground as so much dead weight. As she lies before you, choking and gagging, you gently lob the phone of hers to the ground, glancing up to take in what's around you before crushing it beneath your heel, grinding it into the concrete.

You step round her and the rental car, heading right back into the arena, mind going a million miles an hour.

Left foot in front.

Now the right.

Now the left.

Right foot again.

Your steps pick up pace, you have to get out.

You want out of here. You need out of here. Through the door to the garage lot, past one or two of the arena’s staff and round the corner.

’Scheiße.’

Up ahead is Mandy Banks and a camera crew.

(Mandy): Hans, was that Erica Martinez we just saw leaving the building?

You don’t reply, you just go to brush past her but she’s insistent and keeps on you.

Pressing the microphone up towards you, she continues.

(Mandy): Hans with all due respect… why did you protect her from Maniac? He could have taken care of this once and for all.

’He could what now?’

Inner voice practically screaming, you stop and turn towards Mandy. The anger and frustration on your face is near explosive, you can’t put up a facade at hearing those words.

She shies back a fraction as you fight to compose yourself as much as possible not to take it out on her. Your nostrils flare back as you draw in air, knuckles clenching and eyes shooting daggers.

(Hans): “Take care of this…” Take care of this? What’s he done these last months? Nothing!

You spit out those words, every fibre of your being behind them.

(Hans): Jeremy is right, he let his dog off the leash and “Now” he wants to try and clean up the mess. If he could have, or even wanted to end it he would have done it by now. No, he can’t end it… but it’s time I did!

You storm past her, down the corridor, and through the door to your locker room, flicking the lightswitch to illuminate the dark…

Thursday morning – 15:26 p.m. PT – Los Angeles, CA

You’re back in the here and now. Your phone is held up in front of you.

Like before, time has almost stood still for you as you relived those memories.

You’d been speaking the whole time towards the phone. It’s light stands out starkly against the dimly lit room, hurting your eyes with it’s brightness.

Your heart skips a beat and your breath catches in your throat.

’What have I been saying?’

You clamp down on the ice spreading through you and just let out what you’ve been wanting to say for days, weeks… months even.

You could edit this out, sure, you’d have to, just to see what you’d been saying. But right now, just let it out.

Let it all out.

(Hans): Like I said Herr Chaos. You could have sorted this out before now. But you’ve not.

Did you think you could start das fire unt then claim the plaudits for putting it out, jah? Nein mein freund, it doesn’t work like that.

I will be damned before I let you whitewash the last year unt a half away. You don’t get to wipe the slate clean unt then just carry on as if nothing has changed.

You do not get to sit there unt say to people like Wolfy that you don’t know why Sean unt Matt unt Jeremy… Sarah unt Alexis… my wife… you don’t get to sit there and spin it so that you’re the victim.

I will not let you brush what you’ve done unt what you’ve enabled unt encouraged under the carpet.

You do not get to dismiss what you’ve done.

You have sown nothing but chaos from the moment you stepped back into this federation. You broke people. Saying ‘oh it was the devil that made me do it but I’m better now’ is no defence.

You say you’ve changed? Herr Chaos, one snide comment unt you’re right back on camera, leering unt threatening like you were last year ‘under the influence’. Demon or not, you are the way you are unt the occasional show of charity doesn’t hide das rote on your hands.

I’m not going to split hairs over my past with someone like you. I’ve owned my past. I’ve made amends. You can’t judge me but Butch, Matthew… they can. Unt have. We’ve been through a lot. We’ll go through a lot more. But the difference is, I won’t shy from it.

Das ist why I’m better than you.

Das ist why I’m going to put a stop to Erica.

You can help, or you can hinder Herr Chaos.

Think carefully. You’ve done neither so far Herr Chaos, unt das ist the problem. You’ve done nothing.

You feel exhausted, but you don’t let it show, pressing the record button as you do, before letting out a sigh, leaning back into your chair and stretching out as if the wind had been taken from your sails.

At last, a peace of sorts washes over you as if you’d uncorked a bottle and the pressure had been released.

You find yourself drifting off as the last few weeks and months toll dissipates for now.

’And I will do everything needed.’

The scene fades to black.