Post by thewarchild on Jan 30, 2016 12:56:19 GMT -6
The opening drum roll of Les Misérables "Do you hear the people sing?” echos in a room that is modestly furnished. A Victorian-style oak desk that oversees a window is the most imposing feature aside the Warchild herself, who is twitching in front of said desk with war hammer in hand. The small ting of a spoon hitting the rim of a glass draws the Warchild’s attention before Shields speaks. “It seems Devi’s going to make it, even though you’ve shortened her life and crippled her.” His comment is a very flat but pointed reminder to Joanna about her actions the previous week. Gently setting down the spoon, Opeare Shields raises the cup to his lips and takes a small sip to test the flavor of its contents.
As he nods his approval Joanna rolls her eyes and carelessly drops Hephty, maul first, to the floor causing Shields to shiver and bite his tongue at the loud thump.“She's lucky that's all I did. What do you want, Opeare? I tire of our sessions and am not due for another one this week. So what, must I ask, is so important you risk my anger to see me?” The Warchild hisses with a slight smiling playing at her lips. Joanna places her hand firmly on the handcrafted, leather-clad, grand chair that matches the desk before spinning it effortlessly.
Shields’ mouth seems to dance within itself as he considers his patient’s words and actions with a careful and cautious eye. Joanna wasn’t above wrecking his office again, but as he had just settled into the Compound, he would rather avoid unnecessary work. Placing the cup softly on the saucer he had removed it from Shields raises from the couch that he had been warming and responds to Joanna calmly. “I risk nothing. You may be…’trigger happy’, I believe the expression is, but you will not damage me in any fathomable way. At least...none you have not before.” Shields shows no fear as he motions for Joanna to take his place before pensively walking to the full-length window. “As to your question, well, Ms. Carlisle seems to have reclaimed some of her past and is planning to add thematically to the namesake you and your lot have claimed in your shared profession.” He continues crossing his arms as he stares into the dark forest that sits on this side of the compound. The trees Joanna had removed the previous week still haven’t been removed and serve as targets for the Warchild’s rage.
Joanna growls at her therapist before she grabs the chair and tries to heft it over her head. “English, please, you pompous bigot. I'm sick of your games and flowery exposition.” Joanna's words come out slowly as she adjusts to the weight of the chair. She stumbles briefly from the unexpected weight that comes with fine materials and finer craftsmanship. Taking deep breaths, she swings the chair in anger but is too slow to actually pose a threat to Shields.
The Oxford grad merely smiles and side steps her wild attack. Shields checks the pocket watch he pulls from his left jacket pocket and shakes his head disappointedly. “Not enough not to notice, or learn from, I see.” Joanna's audible disdain at his words alerts Shields to the coming onslaught of aggression. Having lived with Joanna for over a year he knew when to get out of her way and when to appease her, and this was the latter. “As you wish. Ms. Carlisle has acquired horses. I do believe one will be yours. As for why, well, she has a flair for things you lack.”
Shields’ words cause Joanna to set the chair down and lean against it. Through heavy breaths she unleashes her thoughts upon her shrink without thinking. “Horses? What for? For what point and purpose would we need horses? The Compound…” Her words fade to silence as she begins to lose herself in the flood of thoughts. Joanna's breathing quickens as her body shivers from said ruminations.
Realizing that Joanna was in a dangerous place Shields directs her thoughts, using a gentle voice he makes sure she says on track. “Think symbolically, Joanna. Even though you may be literal and right, there is always a purpose behind Ms. Carlisle's actions.” Joanna's eyes snap to Shields, full of rage, or bloodlust, Joanna moves over to grab her nearby hammer.
Thinking quickly Shields continues, “I know you are focused more on revenge or redemption, whichever serves your thirst better, but Ms. Carlisle prefers the future. Or did her steel strike not remind you as it did everyone else?” As the words quickly pass through his lips, Shields begins to back away as Joanna marches towards him.
Lifting Hephty up to shoulder height, Joanna points at Shields and growls her response. “Now don't you start with me. So we will be the literal horsewomen...pointless, but if it's what she wants, fine...whatever. And stop calling her ‘Ms. Carlisle’. She's Emma or Goldie. Missus just doesn't fit her.” Her words buy Joanna enough time to pin Shields against the far wall of his office.
Shields takes a deep breath, unsure of his next move, until he notices a black sedan pull around the building. Flashing a victorious smile, Shields presses further into Joannas mental state, knowing his time was running out. “As you wish. Just thought you’d like to know what your lover was up to. After all, you do care about her happiness more so than her uses, correct?” The question was presented with a slight smile and raised eyebrow. Shields knew exactly what and how to say things in order to get Joanna’s focus where he wanted it.
It didn't make him immune to Joanna's rage, however. “How dare you!” The Warchild yells in response before planting Hephty where Shields head had been seconds before. Swinging milliseconds behind Shields quick footwork, Joanna leaves gaping holes in the wooden floor as she attempts to remove Shields from her mind.
Glad he had not halted his own training, Shields was able to stay just out of reach of Joanna's crazed strikes. Knowing she was past the point of reason, Shields fired question after question at the Visionary, knowing that if one resounded with her he might escape without a fresh bruise. “Why the rage, Joanna? Are you afraid that you do not care for her? Is it that failure is starting to take its toll? Might it be jealousy at the new members? Boredom? Why, Joanna?”
As the questions assault her ears faster than her arms can swing her hammer, Joanna is unable to take any more. Planting her feet firmly on the floor she hurls Hephty close enough to nick Shields’ shoulder and send him tumbling on the floor as she calls for silence. “Get out of my head!”
With a thud Hephty buries itself into the far wall and Shields look both in horror and bewilderment as Joanna stares at her shaking hands. Groaning in pain Shields watches as the Warchild begins to claw at her scalp, her lips trembling and unable to form words. Shields gets to his feet with the aid of the couch that had stopped him after Joanna's hammer had, but is too late. Joanna has already taken a deep breath and as she pushes past him he knows whomever she meets next may not see the sun rise on the morrow.
As Joanna kicks open his door, the renowned psychiatrist hangs his head. “I hope Emma can get through to her. For Joanna's sake if not VoW’s locker room.” His words are almost a prayer, if a he believed in such things. Joanna story had convinced him no deity could exist and allow all that to happen to one girl. He is left alone as the scene fades and Joanna seeks her destruction elsewhere.
Dear Journal,
I can't stand feeling like this. Usually Goldie is the lighthouse in my ocean of destructive thoughts. She grants me the focus to not crash upon myself. But lately, lately Journal, she's been distracted by her corporate life, and pulling the strings of Chaos. No, Journal, I don't think I'm boring her, I think she forgot that when War has cleared the battlefield, it can only attack itself.
Look at my past, Journal. Look at my VoW record. When I pretended to be good, I still put on my armor. I was still War, Journal! But I was at war with myself. Each loss was another slash into my psyche. And now, now at the precipice of what we've worked for, VoW has seen fit to toss us at the bottom of the barrel.
Once again I face pathetic Jones, but this time Journal, this time, he's got a friend. Owen “too violent for TV” Gonsalves. We'll see about that. Yes, Journal, yes, even as mentally adrift as I am right now I have no doubt about this match. I learn from my mistakes, and no matter my issues with Shields, Goldie, or even myself, I will be all there this time to face Jones and his worthless teammate.
Journal, why do you ask stupid questions? Owen isn’t a threat to Goldie and I, he might be denied matches because of his name or history, but all that time works against him. I may be called unhinged, Journal, but Emma keeps me in ring shape and hungry for a fight. Owen? Well he doesn’t seem to care anymore, he’d rather sit back and collect his check. It is that kind of laziness that sparked this business’ decline to where it is. People...no, Journal, that’s too generous. Leeches like Owen are why parasites like the Orphanage and Ryder were allowed to bulldoze their way to power.
It’s funny. Journal. The world thinks Goldie and I are demented, unbalanced, crazy and evil, yet they need us. They need forces like us to prevent stagnation. Look at the movies flying out of Hollywood like cars off an assembly line, look at the presidential candidates...hell, look at VoW’s championship picture. They are all the same, yet we’re the weird ones for wanting to innovate, to change the monotony that plagues society. It doesn’t matter, Journal, all four are soon to be together now and we will reshape VoW so that it is the flagship it was meant to be.
Mark my words, Journal: Jones and Owens will be the start of our message at Double Jeopardy. We have big plans for the world that night, and the best part is the look on everyone’s face as we reveal it. I have word I must speak personally as well, Journal, and I won’t be holding back like I have before. No, Journal, no. I’m going to turn all these emotions into rage and let VoW know exactly how polluted its become. I will stand in the center of that ring and proclaim my intentions, and after that, Emma and I will open the conversation to the public with the destruction of the duo management threw together for a slaughter. Blood always draws a crowd and trust me Journal, there will be blood. Bye bye Journal, War has some damage to do.
As the video feeds focuses, Joanna Cyluna Thade is scene with a smile as twisted as the trees around her on her face. Her heavily studded boots announce each of her steps on the uneven and overgrown ground of the forest she had used as her backdrop last week. This time, however, she wasn’t in a symbolic get up but she did have clothes on. This week she was wearing a ripped pair of jeans and a torn version of her VoW t-shirt, as she stomped her way, whimsically, through the forest.
It was clear that Joanna had a message, by the way her eyes honed in on the camera that was recording her every movement. “Seems that Neon Power was enough to put Lady Death and myself in a foul mood. I would apologize, but considering I wanted to do more than merely bash a chair over someone’s head, I don’t see the point.” Joanna begins with a little giggle as she swings under a branch and slides a bit forward. The camera shakes a bit and Joanna throws her head back in a small fit of laughter. “Don’t lose your footing trying to keep up, Luca. Goldie wouldn’t be happy with me if you got hurt.” The Visionary explains and alerts her viewers that the Chosen’s media expert had been tasked with documenting War’s words once again.
From behind the camera Luca's voice answers the Warchild breathless, from the fall the Warchild had mentioned. “I was just not expecting such energy after hearing you earlier today.” The media Chosen points out causing Joanna to briefly cock her head to the side before knowingly nodding.
Without much warning the Warchild launches herself into the low-hanging branches. A joyful laugh echos off the trees as Joanna uses a thick branch as a balance beam. Luca keeps the camera on Joanna and captures a genuine smile on a single frame before Joanna stops and suspends herself upside down off the branch.
Looking back at Luca and her camera the Warchild lets her hair dangle inches from the ground as she responds to Luca's unasked question. “Well, when Goldie takes this one aside and embraces her in the way only Death can, it reminds this little Warchild of her purpose. She calms the storm inside and reminds me that the blood I need is ahead if me, and the path behind is what Chaos has seen fit to remember.” With a small wink and childish giggle, Joanna uncrosses her feet and lands on the ground in a handstand.
A short gasp is heard from behind the camera that earns a crooked smile from Joanna. “Out here, away from the concrete order of buildings, I'm able to thrive, Luca, and that bodes well for Double Jeopardy. You see, last time I faced Jonesie boy I let my mind get wrapped up in everything, got too deep into the game.” Joanna begins before taking a deep breath and balancing on one hand as she strokes her chin in thought.
As she shrugs, Joanna loses her balance and falls on her face with an audible thump. Instead of groaning in pain however, Joanna cackles at her misfortune. “Just like Chaos. It doesn't matter how in control you think you are: one little misstep, one oversight, and you're on your face. Remember that ,Owen...remember that at any second PJ could just leave you reaching for a tag because he just isn't all there.” The Warchild’s remarks are calculated. She isn't as out of control as she was last time. Even after her fall she is showing restraint.
Rising to her feet, Joanna dusts her legs off quickly before looking over her right arm. A few scrapes litter her pale skin but are nothing to bother the VoW wrestler. “Follow me,” she says before waving Luca forward as she begins to quietly walk through the trees.
Whispering so that the camera can hear her Joanna leads Luca and her viewers on a path no one is sure leads anywhere. Her voice is calm and controlled as she creeps through the forest, like a lioness stalking her prey.
“Death made it clear last week that we would not be insulted in such a way as to prove ourselves against Neon Power. Our goals are far greater than those two could even comprehend, and while PJ and Owen aren't an improvement, they have enough experience to allow us to send a message.” Joanna pauses as the camera catches a bit of movement beyond the Warchild.
Joanna bit her lower lip sensually before cracking her neck and back with a simple flex of her shoulders and tilt of her head. Raising to her full height, Joanna makes her presence known to someone she blocks from the camera.
“No longer do we rely on shadows. We are the Chaossworn, and if anyone or has an issue they'd like to address, we’re not hard to find.” Joanna boasts as Luca repositions with a wide swing that catches their guest. Her piercing eyes and hair that is as dark as her name and nails are introduction enough. Joanna had stalked her lover and Chaossworn partner, Emma Carlisle.
Joanna takes a knee in front of Emma, letting Death Incarnate rest her abyss-colored nails on the shoulders of War. The pair stay silent for a second before Emma speaks as Joanna pulls Hephty from a pile of leaves Emma had been standing over.
Emma directs Chaos’ message and warns their competitors of why the past is meaningless this time around. ”You, like the rest, shall seek to judge us. We will be called many things: stalkers, evil women, psychotics...more and more, colorful, hateful and otherwise. Patrick Jones will try to call upon the past, as though his victory over the mere shell of my Warchild, wrapped in the cocoon of false hope and prostration, means anything in the here and now,” Emma says softly, still gazing at Joanna with a look no one else would receive. A pale hand gestures at Joanna, imploring the viewer to look her up and down.
Joanna’s muscles dance under her skin as she lets her Goldie praise her, something she still wasn’t use to. “You barely survived War at much less than her full potential. By my side, with a freedom none other can offer her, her power is a magnificent disaster of bloody delight. You will be crushed. Even the so-called dangerous nature of your partner is of no consequence. Yes, Owen, I’ve heard the tales…”
Emma’s words are almost mocking in their delivery as she expresses how much has changed and how powerful Chaos is when unified, rallying more to their cause.
Death’s words inspire the Warchild to a point she can no longer hold her tongue at Emma’s mention of PJ’s partner. With a small scoff her words cry out for actual competition and bloodshed, Joanna expresses her thoughts of Owen’s history. “You mean the bedtime stories. If you want to see danger and damage, our locker room is open. If you want to see a restrained massacre, you’ll enjoy our match at Double Jeopardy.” The acidity of her words would melt steel as Joanna stands up to her full height and plants Hephty handle first into the ground. Emma is a hair taller than her partner, but still draws the focus with her chilling gaze. Joanna stands ready to unleash her passion and bloodlust as Emma looks the part of a cold and calculated murderess.
Their auras prove their namesakes and only her Goldie’s calm demeanor stays Joanna from unleashing her hammer. Emma breaks the tension and continues Joanna’s thought as if it was her own. ”Alone we are powerful, even whilst masks and cloaks restrain our true power and influence the masses to our liking. Together...such devastating force spreads not just as a cohesive unit, but singly. This Joanna, alone, many weeks ago would have turned you into paste, Jones,” Emma’s words cause Joanna’s cheeks to show a small amount of color with a knowing look between the two lovers. ”At her rightful place by my side, still fighting on her own? We would be speaking of the late Patrick Jones. And you, Owen? You’re a virgin in terms of facing power such as ours. You’ll beg for another chance to tangle with the magic lass after we flay you open like bovines for the slaughter.”
Joanna’s thirst for blood is on full display as she licks her lips before speaking, making sure Luca caught the glint in her eye Emma had put there with her description. “‘Tis a feast for all the world to see, boys. For no man would look at the coming storm and try to brave. Wisdom would have them running for this hills, yet here you stand, foolish children holding onto each other for a nice jerk-off. Well, put your cocks away, boys, if you want to keep them, and pray the ref does his job. Consider yourselves lucky Sangue didn’t approve our request for a much more fun version of our match. But alas, I’ll leave Death to her devices, I’ve what I came for”
Joanna brandishes Hephty in way so that there is no mistaking her intention before taking a moment to display just how unnatural she can be. Craning her neck and back at a ghastly angle, Joanna pecks Emma’s neck before receiving a surprisingly warm embrace from Death. The two pause in their cryptic and malevolent speeches to enjoy each other for a moment. With nods that are perfectly in unison Joanna skips off into the woods with Luca in tow as the camera woman bounds after her inspired subject.
The camera struggles to keep up with the Warchild as she dashes through the forest with renewed vigor. Luca manages to keep Joanna within range of the mic as she takes to the trees again this time using Hephty as a climbing pick. Her words might lack volume due to distance but the sharp spurts that follow allude to the Warchild not pacing herself.
“Oh the joy we will have my little boys. You’ll stand there thinking you matter, that you can actually stand a chance. Let me spell it out to you. B, is for the beating that will start the fight, considering it won’t be much of a match. L, is for the loss you will suffer when we pin or submit one of you before delivering our real message. O, is to remind you that Owen has to show up or PJ will be no better off than a pig at a Hawaiian barbeque. O, again is for Owen, but this time to remind him that his name means nothing when compared to someone that trained in a glass-covered ring for fun. And D, D is for the pure and utter destruction and decimation you two shall be subjected to because I’m bored. Hmm.”
Joanna pauses as she once again hangs herself from a tree branch. This time however it is several stories high with Hephty hanging next to her, perfectly balanced like it’s master. Joanna looks down at the camera like a spider relishing the meal it’s just trapped in it’s web. Her pause is to mock those that can’t see where she is going as she uses her hands to count the letters back to herself.
“Of course, it spells blood, which is what will be spilt before I even consider ending our little playdate.” Joanna flashes the same smile a pyromaniac has as they play with a lighter. “I don’t care if it’s PJ’s, Owen’s, or my own. VoW’s canvas will have it’s own piece of art, courtesy of the one and only Warchild. If it means I bust your temple open with a kick, or that you cough it up after I pound your ribs until they are splinters. I, Don’t, Care!” Joanna articulates each word again to stress out little it matters.
With a small sigh and a quick breath Joanna grabs Hephty and unlocks her legs. Luca gasps in horror as War plummets towards her and the ground. Joanna doesn’t even flinch however as branches assault her face, instead she smiles, and in fact begins to giggle. “Oh, what fun we shall have,” Joanna says again before she pulls Hephty across her body and then thrust him back that the trunk of the tree, denting the tree and logging the hammer in place. With the pull from the hammer Joanna completely rotates back to her feet and even though her decent isn’t halted it is briefly paused.
Joanna lands covered in scratches, before quickly rolling through so that her shins stay intact. Luca rushes over to check on the Warchild whom is still suffering from a fit of laughter. The uncaring camera captures every crimson droplet that oozes from the Warchild’s pale skin. Joanna brings one finger to her lips to silence the obvious question Luca was preparing to ask. “You see PJ, Owens, everyone else? Your perfect lives that are risk-free and always seem to lack enough time in a day to do everything, are meaningless. You can’t stare Death in the face and say you’re ready. You may try to accuse me of the same, but don’t bother. As you just saw, had I missed any one, crucial part of that fall, Goldie would be by herself at Double Jeopardy. Death had its opportunity, yet I’m still here.”
Joanna stops in her tirade to sit up and press her chest to her knees before winking at the camera. Catching her breath Joanna looked above her and snickered. “Well, seems Death might not like my mockery,” she muses to herself before rolling forward as Hephty collided with the ground closer to the trunk but enough that Joanna, Luca, and the camera were showered in leaves.
Joanna’s voice fills the dark feed with a tone that is off-putting yet inspiring. “Listen up, and listen well. Double Jeopardy is merely the true start to Chaos’ ride. Now things are truly set in motion and while Owen may be dangerous and maybe PJ shows the greatness he is capable of, they matter not. Double Jeopardy will be remembered for when war was declared on the VoW locker room. PJ and Owen are nothing more than crimson ink in which we will issue our terms and conditions and trust me you won’t want to miss a single second of it. The storm that I promised so long ago has arrived at VoW’s doorstep.” The camera shakes and whirls as Luca clears the lens and lets it take in the sight before it.
Joanna sits with Hephty across her lap at the base of the tree she had just dove from. Lines of blood litter her face, covering her in a crimson mask that does not cover her smile. Even covered in her own blood, Joanna’s eyes are still captivating as she continues her declaration to the entire locker room. “You all laughed at, or pitied, me when I showed up pretending to be changed. You all couldn’t see the truth that I hid in plain sight. And now, as a new year is before us, you still think I’m just a crazy girl that needs to be locked up again. Keep thinking that, and not only will PJ and Owen be lucky if they get a hospital trip out of this match, but so will the rest of the locker room. Put your faith in a force that actually wants change, believe in something that is real and not a dream. Believe in Chaos, and listen for the hoofbeats of the Four.”
Joanna takes a deep breath as she licks her lips clean of her own coppery bliss. The Warchild closes her eyes as she relishes the taste, like a starving man tasting food for the first time in ages. “Owen and PJ I hope the next time I read your names it’s not in the obituaries, but welcome to war. There are always casualties. Sangue, if you thought Owen was bad for your TV deal, you better find a strong chain because I’m just warming up. And to all the rest that dare think they deserve to stand before Chaos, watch Double Jeopardy, and if you haven’t shit yourself come find us. We, will, be, waiting!” Joanna growls the last line making sure each word contains as much power as her hammer strikes.
Luca needs no prompting to cut the feed there and just looks on as Joanna enters a state of zen unfathomable. Joanna suddenly opens her eyes and stares at Luca, much like Emma does her corporate employees, a moment passes before Luca nods and quickly packs her camera up and leaves the Warchild to her devices. As Luca heads towards the Compound she hears the thundering sound of Hephty bashing it’s way through the thick trees of the forest. As Luca catches the faintest glimpse of the Compound the air is filled with crying of a tree protesting as it falls before the ground shakes from the weight of one of it’s long time guardians meeting its end. The scene fades as raven’s call out their approval of War’s new playground.
As he nods his approval Joanna rolls her eyes and carelessly drops Hephty, maul first, to the floor causing Shields to shiver and bite his tongue at the loud thump.“She's lucky that's all I did. What do you want, Opeare? I tire of our sessions and am not due for another one this week. So what, must I ask, is so important you risk my anger to see me?” The Warchild hisses with a slight smiling playing at her lips. Joanna places her hand firmly on the handcrafted, leather-clad, grand chair that matches the desk before spinning it effortlessly.
Shields’ mouth seems to dance within itself as he considers his patient’s words and actions with a careful and cautious eye. Joanna wasn’t above wrecking his office again, but as he had just settled into the Compound, he would rather avoid unnecessary work. Placing the cup softly on the saucer he had removed it from Shields raises from the couch that he had been warming and responds to Joanna calmly. “I risk nothing. You may be…’trigger happy’, I believe the expression is, but you will not damage me in any fathomable way. At least...none you have not before.” Shields shows no fear as he motions for Joanna to take his place before pensively walking to the full-length window. “As to your question, well, Ms. Carlisle seems to have reclaimed some of her past and is planning to add thematically to the namesake you and your lot have claimed in your shared profession.” He continues crossing his arms as he stares into the dark forest that sits on this side of the compound. The trees Joanna had removed the previous week still haven’t been removed and serve as targets for the Warchild’s rage.
Joanna growls at her therapist before she grabs the chair and tries to heft it over her head. “English, please, you pompous bigot. I'm sick of your games and flowery exposition.” Joanna's words come out slowly as she adjusts to the weight of the chair. She stumbles briefly from the unexpected weight that comes with fine materials and finer craftsmanship. Taking deep breaths, she swings the chair in anger but is too slow to actually pose a threat to Shields.
The Oxford grad merely smiles and side steps her wild attack. Shields checks the pocket watch he pulls from his left jacket pocket and shakes his head disappointedly. “Not enough not to notice, or learn from, I see.” Joanna's audible disdain at his words alerts Shields to the coming onslaught of aggression. Having lived with Joanna for over a year he knew when to get out of her way and when to appease her, and this was the latter. “As you wish. Ms. Carlisle has acquired horses. I do believe one will be yours. As for why, well, she has a flair for things you lack.”
Shields’ words cause Joanna to set the chair down and lean against it. Through heavy breaths she unleashes her thoughts upon her shrink without thinking. “Horses? What for? For what point and purpose would we need horses? The Compound…” Her words fade to silence as she begins to lose herself in the flood of thoughts. Joanna's breathing quickens as her body shivers from said ruminations.
Realizing that Joanna was in a dangerous place Shields directs her thoughts, using a gentle voice he makes sure she says on track. “Think symbolically, Joanna. Even though you may be literal and right, there is always a purpose behind Ms. Carlisle's actions.” Joanna's eyes snap to Shields, full of rage, or bloodlust, Joanna moves over to grab her nearby hammer.
Thinking quickly Shields continues, “I know you are focused more on revenge or redemption, whichever serves your thirst better, but Ms. Carlisle prefers the future. Or did her steel strike not remind you as it did everyone else?” As the words quickly pass through his lips, Shields begins to back away as Joanna marches towards him.
Lifting Hephty up to shoulder height, Joanna points at Shields and growls her response. “Now don't you start with me. So we will be the literal horsewomen...pointless, but if it's what she wants, fine...whatever. And stop calling her ‘Ms. Carlisle’. She's Emma or Goldie. Missus just doesn't fit her.” Her words buy Joanna enough time to pin Shields against the far wall of his office.
Shields takes a deep breath, unsure of his next move, until he notices a black sedan pull around the building. Flashing a victorious smile, Shields presses further into Joannas mental state, knowing his time was running out. “As you wish. Just thought you’d like to know what your lover was up to. After all, you do care about her happiness more so than her uses, correct?” The question was presented with a slight smile and raised eyebrow. Shields knew exactly what and how to say things in order to get Joanna’s focus where he wanted it.
It didn't make him immune to Joanna's rage, however. “How dare you!” The Warchild yells in response before planting Hephty where Shields head had been seconds before. Swinging milliseconds behind Shields quick footwork, Joanna leaves gaping holes in the wooden floor as she attempts to remove Shields from her mind.
Glad he had not halted his own training, Shields was able to stay just out of reach of Joanna's crazed strikes. Knowing she was past the point of reason, Shields fired question after question at the Visionary, knowing that if one resounded with her he might escape without a fresh bruise. “Why the rage, Joanna? Are you afraid that you do not care for her? Is it that failure is starting to take its toll? Might it be jealousy at the new members? Boredom? Why, Joanna?”
As the questions assault her ears faster than her arms can swing her hammer, Joanna is unable to take any more. Planting her feet firmly on the floor she hurls Hephty close enough to nick Shields’ shoulder and send him tumbling on the floor as she calls for silence. “Get out of my head!”
With a thud Hephty buries itself into the far wall and Shields look both in horror and bewilderment as Joanna stares at her shaking hands. Groaning in pain Shields watches as the Warchild begins to claw at her scalp, her lips trembling and unable to form words. Shields gets to his feet with the aid of the couch that had stopped him after Joanna's hammer had, but is too late. Joanna has already taken a deep breath and as she pushes past him he knows whomever she meets next may not see the sun rise on the morrow.
As Joanna kicks open his door, the renowned psychiatrist hangs his head. “I hope Emma can get through to her. For Joanna's sake if not VoW’s locker room.” His words are almost a prayer, if a he believed in such things. Joanna story had convinced him no deity could exist and allow all that to happen to one girl. He is left alone as the scene fades and Joanna seeks her destruction elsewhere.
Dear Journal,
I can't stand feeling like this. Usually Goldie is the lighthouse in my ocean of destructive thoughts. She grants me the focus to not crash upon myself. But lately, lately Journal, she's been distracted by her corporate life, and pulling the strings of Chaos. No, Journal, I don't think I'm boring her, I think she forgot that when War has cleared the battlefield, it can only attack itself.
Look at my past, Journal. Look at my VoW record. When I pretended to be good, I still put on my armor. I was still War, Journal! But I was at war with myself. Each loss was another slash into my psyche. And now, now at the precipice of what we've worked for, VoW has seen fit to toss us at the bottom of the barrel.
Once again I face pathetic Jones, but this time Journal, this time, he's got a friend. Owen “too violent for TV” Gonsalves. We'll see about that. Yes, Journal, yes, even as mentally adrift as I am right now I have no doubt about this match. I learn from my mistakes, and no matter my issues with Shields, Goldie, or even myself, I will be all there this time to face Jones and his worthless teammate.
Journal, why do you ask stupid questions? Owen isn’t a threat to Goldie and I, he might be denied matches because of his name or history, but all that time works against him. I may be called unhinged, Journal, but Emma keeps me in ring shape and hungry for a fight. Owen? Well he doesn’t seem to care anymore, he’d rather sit back and collect his check. It is that kind of laziness that sparked this business’ decline to where it is. People...no, Journal, that’s too generous. Leeches like Owen are why parasites like the Orphanage and Ryder were allowed to bulldoze their way to power.
It’s funny. Journal. The world thinks Goldie and I are demented, unbalanced, crazy and evil, yet they need us. They need forces like us to prevent stagnation. Look at the movies flying out of Hollywood like cars off an assembly line, look at the presidential candidates...hell, look at VoW’s championship picture. They are all the same, yet we’re the weird ones for wanting to innovate, to change the monotony that plagues society. It doesn’t matter, Journal, all four are soon to be together now and we will reshape VoW so that it is the flagship it was meant to be.
Mark my words, Journal: Jones and Owens will be the start of our message at Double Jeopardy. We have big plans for the world that night, and the best part is the look on everyone’s face as we reveal it. I have word I must speak personally as well, Journal, and I won’t be holding back like I have before. No, Journal, no. I’m going to turn all these emotions into rage and let VoW know exactly how polluted its become. I will stand in the center of that ring and proclaim my intentions, and after that, Emma and I will open the conversation to the public with the destruction of the duo management threw together for a slaughter. Blood always draws a crowd and trust me Journal, there will be blood. Bye bye Journal, War has some damage to do.
As the video feeds focuses, Joanna Cyluna Thade is scene with a smile as twisted as the trees around her on her face. Her heavily studded boots announce each of her steps on the uneven and overgrown ground of the forest she had used as her backdrop last week. This time, however, she wasn’t in a symbolic get up but she did have clothes on. This week she was wearing a ripped pair of jeans and a torn version of her VoW t-shirt, as she stomped her way, whimsically, through the forest.
It was clear that Joanna had a message, by the way her eyes honed in on the camera that was recording her every movement. “Seems that Neon Power was enough to put Lady Death and myself in a foul mood. I would apologize, but considering I wanted to do more than merely bash a chair over someone’s head, I don’t see the point.” Joanna begins with a little giggle as she swings under a branch and slides a bit forward. The camera shakes a bit and Joanna throws her head back in a small fit of laughter. “Don’t lose your footing trying to keep up, Luca. Goldie wouldn’t be happy with me if you got hurt.” The Visionary explains and alerts her viewers that the Chosen’s media expert had been tasked with documenting War’s words once again.
From behind the camera Luca's voice answers the Warchild breathless, from the fall the Warchild had mentioned. “I was just not expecting such energy after hearing you earlier today.” The media Chosen points out causing Joanna to briefly cock her head to the side before knowingly nodding.
Without much warning the Warchild launches herself into the low-hanging branches. A joyful laugh echos off the trees as Joanna uses a thick branch as a balance beam. Luca keeps the camera on Joanna and captures a genuine smile on a single frame before Joanna stops and suspends herself upside down off the branch.
Looking back at Luca and her camera the Warchild lets her hair dangle inches from the ground as she responds to Luca's unasked question. “Well, when Goldie takes this one aside and embraces her in the way only Death can, it reminds this little Warchild of her purpose. She calms the storm inside and reminds me that the blood I need is ahead if me, and the path behind is what Chaos has seen fit to remember.” With a small wink and childish giggle, Joanna uncrosses her feet and lands on the ground in a handstand.
A short gasp is heard from behind the camera that earns a crooked smile from Joanna. “Out here, away from the concrete order of buildings, I'm able to thrive, Luca, and that bodes well for Double Jeopardy. You see, last time I faced Jonesie boy I let my mind get wrapped up in everything, got too deep into the game.” Joanna begins before taking a deep breath and balancing on one hand as she strokes her chin in thought.
As she shrugs, Joanna loses her balance and falls on her face with an audible thump. Instead of groaning in pain however, Joanna cackles at her misfortune. “Just like Chaos. It doesn't matter how in control you think you are: one little misstep, one oversight, and you're on your face. Remember that ,Owen...remember that at any second PJ could just leave you reaching for a tag because he just isn't all there.” The Warchild’s remarks are calculated. She isn't as out of control as she was last time. Even after her fall she is showing restraint.
Rising to her feet, Joanna dusts her legs off quickly before looking over her right arm. A few scrapes litter her pale skin but are nothing to bother the VoW wrestler. “Follow me,” she says before waving Luca forward as she begins to quietly walk through the trees.
Whispering so that the camera can hear her Joanna leads Luca and her viewers on a path no one is sure leads anywhere. Her voice is calm and controlled as she creeps through the forest, like a lioness stalking her prey.
“Death made it clear last week that we would not be insulted in such a way as to prove ourselves against Neon Power. Our goals are far greater than those two could even comprehend, and while PJ and Owen aren't an improvement, they have enough experience to allow us to send a message.” Joanna pauses as the camera catches a bit of movement beyond the Warchild.
Joanna bit her lower lip sensually before cracking her neck and back with a simple flex of her shoulders and tilt of her head. Raising to her full height, Joanna makes her presence known to someone she blocks from the camera.
“No longer do we rely on shadows. We are the Chaossworn, and if anyone or has an issue they'd like to address, we’re not hard to find.” Joanna boasts as Luca repositions with a wide swing that catches their guest. Her piercing eyes and hair that is as dark as her name and nails are introduction enough. Joanna had stalked her lover and Chaossworn partner, Emma Carlisle.
Joanna takes a knee in front of Emma, letting Death Incarnate rest her abyss-colored nails on the shoulders of War. The pair stay silent for a second before Emma speaks as Joanna pulls Hephty from a pile of leaves Emma had been standing over.
Emma directs Chaos’ message and warns their competitors of why the past is meaningless this time around. ”You, like the rest, shall seek to judge us. We will be called many things: stalkers, evil women, psychotics...more and more, colorful, hateful and otherwise. Patrick Jones will try to call upon the past, as though his victory over the mere shell of my Warchild, wrapped in the cocoon of false hope and prostration, means anything in the here and now,” Emma says softly, still gazing at Joanna with a look no one else would receive. A pale hand gestures at Joanna, imploring the viewer to look her up and down.
Joanna’s muscles dance under her skin as she lets her Goldie praise her, something she still wasn’t use to. “You barely survived War at much less than her full potential. By my side, with a freedom none other can offer her, her power is a magnificent disaster of bloody delight. You will be crushed. Even the so-called dangerous nature of your partner is of no consequence. Yes, Owen, I’ve heard the tales…”
Emma’s words are almost mocking in their delivery as she expresses how much has changed and how powerful Chaos is when unified, rallying more to their cause.
Death’s words inspire the Warchild to a point she can no longer hold her tongue at Emma’s mention of PJ’s partner. With a small scoff her words cry out for actual competition and bloodshed, Joanna expresses her thoughts of Owen’s history. “You mean the bedtime stories. If you want to see danger and damage, our locker room is open. If you want to see a restrained massacre, you’ll enjoy our match at Double Jeopardy.” The acidity of her words would melt steel as Joanna stands up to her full height and plants Hephty handle first into the ground. Emma is a hair taller than her partner, but still draws the focus with her chilling gaze. Joanna stands ready to unleash her passion and bloodlust as Emma looks the part of a cold and calculated murderess.
Their auras prove their namesakes and only her Goldie’s calm demeanor stays Joanna from unleashing her hammer. Emma breaks the tension and continues Joanna’s thought as if it was her own. ”Alone we are powerful, even whilst masks and cloaks restrain our true power and influence the masses to our liking. Together...such devastating force spreads not just as a cohesive unit, but singly. This Joanna, alone, many weeks ago would have turned you into paste, Jones,” Emma’s words cause Joanna’s cheeks to show a small amount of color with a knowing look between the two lovers. ”At her rightful place by my side, still fighting on her own? We would be speaking of the late Patrick Jones. And you, Owen? You’re a virgin in terms of facing power such as ours. You’ll beg for another chance to tangle with the magic lass after we flay you open like bovines for the slaughter.”
Joanna’s thirst for blood is on full display as she licks her lips before speaking, making sure Luca caught the glint in her eye Emma had put there with her description. “‘Tis a feast for all the world to see, boys. For no man would look at the coming storm and try to brave. Wisdom would have them running for this hills, yet here you stand, foolish children holding onto each other for a nice jerk-off. Well, put your cocks away, boys, if you want to keep them, and pray the ref does his job. Consider yourselves lucky Sangue didn’t approve our request for a much more fun version of our match. But alas, I’ll leave Death to her devices, I’ve what I came for”
Joanna brandishes Hephty in way so that there is no mistaking her intention before taking a moment to display just how unnatural she can be. Craning her neck and back at a ghastly angle, Joanna pecks Emma’s neck before receiving a surprisingly warm embrace from Death. The two pause in their cryptic and malevolent speeches to enjoy each other for a moment. With nods that are perfectly in unison Joanna skips off into the woods with Luca in tow as the camera woman bounds after her inspired subject.
The camera struggles to keep up with the Warchild as she dashes through the forest with renewed vigor. Luca manages to keep Joanna within range of the mic as she takes to the trees again this time using Hephty as a climbing pick. Her words might lack volume due to distance but the sharp spurts that follow allude to the Warchild not pacing herself.
“Oh the joy we will have my little boys. You’ll stand there thinking you matter, that you can actually stand a chance. Let me spell it out to you. B, is for the beating that will start the fight, considering it won’t be much of a match. L, is for the loss you will suffer when we pin or submit one of you before delivering our real message. O, is to remind you that Owen has to show up or PJ will be no better off than a pig at a Hawaiian barbeque. O, again is for Owen, but this time to remind him that his name means nothing when compared to someone that trained in a glass-covered ring for fun. And D, D is for the pure and utter destruction and decimation you two shall be subjected to because I’m bored. Hmm.”
Joanna pauses as she once again hangs herself from a tree branch. This time however it is several stories high with Hephty hanging next to her, perfectly balanced like it’s master. Joanna looks down at the camera like a spider relishing the meal it’s just trapped in it’s web. Her pause is to mock those that can’t see where she is going as she uses her hands to count the letters back to herself.
“Of course, it spells blood, which is what will be spilt before I even consider ending our little playdate.” Joanna flashes the same smile a pyromaniac has as they play with a lighter. “I don’t care if it’s PJ’s, Owen’s, or my own. VoW’s canvas will have it’s own piece of art, courtesy of the one and only Warchild. If it means I bust your temple open with a kick, or that you cough it up after I pound your ribs until they are splinters. I, Don’t, Care!” Joanna articulates each word again to stress out little it matters.
With a small sigh and a quick breath Joanna grabs Hephty and unlocks her legs. Luca gasps in horror as War plummets towards her and the ground. Joanna doesn’t even flinch however as branches assault her face, instead she smiles, and in fact begins to giggle. “Oh, what fun we shall have,” Joanna says again before she pulls Hephty across her body and then thrust him back that the trunk of the tree, denting the tree and logging the hammer in place. With the pull from the hammer Joanna completely rotates back to her feet and even though her decent isn’t halted it is briefly paused.
Joanna lands covered in scratches, before quickly rolling through so that her shins stay intact. Luca rushes over to check on the Warchild whom is still suffering from a fit of laughter. The uncaring camera captures every crimson droplet that oozes from the Warchild’s pale skin. Joanna brings one finger to her lips to silence the obvious question Luca was preparing to ask. “You see PJ, Owens, everyone else? Your perfect lives that are risk-free and always seem to lack enough time in a day to do everything, are meaningless. You can’t stare Death in the face and say you’re ready. You may try to accuse me of the same, but don’t bother. As you just saw, had I missed any one, crucial part of that fall, Goldie would be by herself at Double Jeopardy. Death had its opportunity, yet I’m still here.”
Joanna stops in her tirade to sit up and press her chest to her knees before winking at the camera. Catching her breath Joanna looked above her and snickered. “Well, seems Death might not like my mockery,” she muses to herself before rolling forward as Hephty collided with the ground closer to the trunk but enough that Joanna, Luca, and the camera were showered in leaves.
Joanna’s voice fills the dark feed with a tone that is off-putting yet inspiring. “Listen up, and listen well. Double Jeopardy is merely the true start to Chaos’ ride. Now things are truly set in motion and while Owen may be dangerous and maybe PJ shows the greatness he is capable of, they matter not. Double Jeopardy will be remembered for when war was declared on the VoW locker room. PJ and Owen are nothing more than crimson ink in which we will issue our terms and conditions and trust me you won’t want to miss a single second of it. The storm that I promised so long ago has arrived at VoW’s doorstep.” The camera shakes and whirls as Luca clears the lens and lets it take in the sight before it.
Joanna sits with Hephty across her lap at the base of the tree she had just dove from. Lines of blood litter her face, covering her in a crimson mask that does not cover her smile. Even covered in her own blood, Joanna’s eyes are still captivating as she continues her declaration to the entire locker room. “You all laughed at, or pitied, me when I showed up pretending to be changed. You all couldn’t see the truth that I hid in plain sight. And now, as a new year is before us, you still think I’m just a crazy girl that needs to be locked up again. Keep thinking that, and not only will PJ and Owen be lucky if they get a hospital trip out of this match, but so will the rest of the locker room. Put your faith in a force that actually wants change, believe in something that is real and not a dream. Believe in Chaos, and listen for the hoofbeats of the Four.”
Joanna takes a deep breath as she licks her lips clean of her own coppery bliss. The Warchild closes her eyes as she relishes the taste, like a starving man tasting food for the first time in ages. “Owen and PJ I hope the next time I read your names it’s not in the obituaries, but welcome to war. There are always casualties. Sangue, if you thought Owen was bad for your TV deal, you better find a strong chain because I’m just warming up. And to all the rest that dare think they deserve to stand before Chaos, watch Double Jeopardy, and if you haven’t shit yourself come find us. We, will, be, waiting!” Joanna growls the last line making sure each word contains as much power as her hammer strikes.
Luca needs no prompting to cut the feed there and just looks on as Joanna enters a state of zen unfathomable. Joanna suddenly opens her eyes and stares at Luca, much like Emma does her corporate employees, a moment passes before Luca nods and quickly packs her camera up and leaves the Warchild to her devices. As Luca heads towards the Compound she hears the thundering sound of Hephty bashing it’s way through the thick trees of the forest. As Luca catches the faintest glimpse of the Compound the air is filled with crying of a tree protesting as it falls before the ground shakes from the weight of one of it’s long time guardians meeting its end. The scene fades as raven’s call out their approval of War’s new playground.
