Post by thewarchild on May 8, 2016 19:42:11 GMT -6
“Victory isn't necessarily winning a match. How right you are One and Only. Seems we both subscribe to similar twists in logic and reality. You the people's love, with your songs, dances, fashion, and dolls to distract you. You whom buries yourself in positivity to avoid the cold truth. I understand you, after all I'm in essence your cosmic other half.”
The words echo softly in the darkness that fills the feed. Pointed, unwavering with conviction, and a hint of glee hang on each word. Slowly the room fades in, mirrors line the walls and even though she isn't in the direct view of the camera, we can see Joanna Thade.
The blue haired visionary’s reflection shows all sides of her seated frame. Head bowed, Hephty laid before her, War looks oddly calm compared what we've come to expect. Clad in a tank top and shorts, Joanna wears the bruises from the battle with her sisters like badges, proud of what she had to weather to get here.
Here, as the mirrors expose the entire room, is the grappling room of the Chosen compound. Hard pads line the floor with a few lockers behind the camera that stood upon a tripod sitting three hours of the way from the wall it was aimed at.
“You can spin the tale however you want, E. Shrug it off or just keep smiling, it doesn't matter. When we meet all the insults or platitudes we exchange will mean nothing. You are VoW's Yang to my Yin. We both operate in a gray area, not truly good, not truly bad. But the perception and ideas that numb people to the hell they live are represented in you, E”
Barely above a whisper do Joanna's words snake their way through the camera and into our ears. Until her final sentence, as she states her issues with Elskerinne’s image, War looks hauntingly past the tripod before her and into the lens through it’s reflection. Her gaze is entrancing, captivating, and holds all the power her words have. Grabbing the shaft of her warhammer, War raises to her feet with calm collected breaths. Once on her feet the camera needs no help of the mirrors to lock eyes with the Visionary.
“It is this that makes my battle with you, fun, E.”
A genuine smile appears on War's face. The right side pulling a bit higher than the left, completing the crooked smile that she wear as she and Death traded blows a few nights ago. Her eyes move up a bit and focus on the wall behind the camera.
“You see, E. I rarely find myself in a situation where I can really let loose. I'm either too passionate, angry, distracted, even bored to really enjoy the pleasure our job offers. But with you, well E, I see it as a chance to face an equal.”
Joanna crosses the room with slow, purpose filled steps. Coming to stop in front of a single mirror panel. As the last word falls from her mouth, she lifts her left hand and caresses her reflections cheek with a small childish giggle.
With War hanging at the edge of the freed the rest of the room draws attention away from the Warchild. Three mannequins stand at the other quarter points of the room. All dressed as Elskerinne has been in recent weeks.
Finally lifting Hephty’s head off the mat and onto her shoulders, Joanna turns from the mirror and skips back to the center of the room. Humming to herself Joanna twists so that her hair drapes over the camera before her forehead and eyes consume the feed.
“Do you get it yet E? I know you're not as crazy as they say, I'm not as crazy they say. But are you as smart as you claim? That's what I wonder. That is what I want to test. I've already proven my will, last Breakthrough showed that even out matched, out powered, out preformed I can still get the job done.”
While her words are calm, War’s eyes grow wider with each word. Less focused on the lens before her, the windows to her soul show the madness growing. Until Joanna pushes herself off of the mat and tumbles over the camera before rolling to her feet. Using her momentum Joanna rams Hephty's maul through the mannequin before her. The loud shattering of plastic fills the feed as the Warchild pulverizes the human form until it is only dust and cloth.
With a disturbingly soft thud, Hephty's head once again rests on the mat. His master's chest heaving up and down as her blue hair acts as a curtain blocking the camera's eye from meeting hers. Each of her appendages twitches with fresh blood and the desire to inflict more destruction. Slowly War turns around, and with a wave of her hand, tosses her hair out of the way so that none have to question her frantic, ever changing mental state.
“I have finally found myself E. And while I see myself in you I also see the filth and putrid aura of the society you not only embrace but encourage. You whom I share so much in common, lack the finality, the conviction, to face you flaws, your past, head on and improve. No you'd rather dance, joke, fuck, your problems out of your mind. Numbing you to the truth.
The truth that you aren't the happy corporate mannequin you claim to be. Trust me E, I see the fear, the worry, the little girl that is just trying to fit in. And while I usually don't like to start things off as brutal as I will with you, understand E, I do this to enlighten you.”
Kneeling down, Joanna picks up a shared of the mannequin that had survived her onslaught. Snickering to herself she raises it to her face so that the blank, unpainted eye covers her left right one. Rising to her feet Joanna tilts her head to the side, making sure the shared doesn't drop.
“You use your speeches to hide the pain. Your dancing and jokes to keep the silence at bay. Your welcoming demeanor to prevent the loneliness away. You run from your problems, making sure to have a friend and lover always around so you never have to face your mind. Your twisted, sick, deranged mind that I know so well. After all, mine is worse!”
The growl Joanna's voice takes on as she speaks her last line sends a shiver through all those watching. However War is far from done. With a flick of her wrist, the Warchild buries the shard into the right mannequin’s forehead as she lurches towards it. No Hephty in hand, the horsewomen uses the tools she was born with in this attack.
Each strike is harder but less focused than the previous one as she bloodies her fists first, then her shins on the plastic human stand in. Not one to waste an opportunity Joanna continues her rant as she rains down blows, the camera catching all angles of the carnage with the aid of the walls of mirrors.
“Fake, Manufactured, Joy! Spineless, Indoctrination, of Sheep! WAKE, UP, ELSKERINNE! WAKE, UP, AND, FACE, THE, TRUTH!”
Each word carries with it the force of Joanna’s new devotion. Hammering the plastic with her flesh, cutting her own skin open, War refuses to relent until the mannequin is nothing more that shards on the training mat. Once her rage seems to subside and she is left kneeling in a pile of her destruction, a disturbing tremble moves through the Horsewoman.
“No, no more. I refuse to let my rebirth be impeded by a societal performing monkey.”
Clutching her temples, Joanna shakes as she mutters those cold words to herself. Her nails dig deeper into her skin as she whips her head from side to side before suddenly wrenching back and screaming her denial of such an event.
“No…..No…..I am War, and while alike she is nothing more than a reflection. A whim of what could have been if I had just fallen in line. E! I promise you carnage, I promise you a wake up call to the truth of reality. Victory may not mean winning a match, that we both agree. But defeat also isn’t measured by a referee. When you face your reflection this Breakthrough, understand my intention is to enlighten you or cripple you!”
Joanna rises to her feet, hunched over in manic laughter as tears pour from her eyes. It seems she’s losing her grip as she turns and looks at the camera, at the final mannequin, the camera, the mannequin, the camera, Hephty, the camera again before taking a deep breath and flashing her crooked smile.
Walking towards her warhammer Joanna licks her lips in primal hunger. There is nothing other than her goal, her path, her hammer. Flicking her wrist Joanna launches Hephty into the air by his shaft, with a small school girl gasp. The pleasure is tangible as Hephty rotates in the air, and time seems to slow.
Around and around Hephty goes before a pale hand grips the entire shaft and brings it crashing down, directing it’s fall across the room. Joanna uses every ounce of strength, even taking a formal striking stance to get the power she utilizes in her kicks to enhance Hephty’s flight. A smile tattooed to her face Joanna and the rest of us watching witness the complete evisceration of the final mannequin as Hephty passes through the plastic figure and buries itself in the mirror behind it.
The resulting crash of glass and domino effect of each reflective surface dieing from the shock wave, cause Joanna to let out a sigh of gleeful relief. Falling to her back Joanna turns her head to face the camera fighting back more laughter.
“E, I hope you’re more than a barbie girl, because if you’re made out of the same fake ideals, platitudes, hopes, or lies that society rams down our throat from a young age. Then I’ll have to prove that while I won’t kill you, I will make you stronger. Have your girlfriend have the hospital on speed dial, and your friend the paparazzi, wouldn’t want you to miss a photo opt at my expense.
We meet at Breakthrough for the first time my one and only reflection, are you ready for War? Because ready or not here I come, I won’t huff, I won’t puff, but I will, oh I will, knock your world apart. The truth hurts E, and I’ll enjoy beating it into your overly positive skull. So you pick fist, or feet?”
As the scene fades to black, Joanna lifts her blood soaked left hand above her. A crimson river flows down her arm as she waves at the camera and those watching.
The words echo softly in the darkness that fills the feed. Pointed, unwavering with conviction, and a hint of glee hang on each word. Slowly the room fades in, mirrors line the walls and even though she isn't in the direct view of the camera, we can see Joanna Thade.
The blue haired visionary’s reflection shows all sides of her seated frame. Head bowed, Hephty laid before her, War looks oddly calm compared what we've come to expect. Clad in a tank top and shorts, Joanna wears the bruises from the battle with her sisters like badges, proud of what she had to weather to get here.
Here, as the mirrors expose the entire room, is the grappling room of the Chosen compound. Hard pads line the floor with a few lockers behind the camera that stood upon a tripod sitting three hours of the way from the wall it was aimed at.
“You can spin the tale however you want, E. Shrug it off or just keep smiling, it doesn't matter. When we meet all the insults or platitudes we exchange will mean nothing. You are VoW's Yang to my Yin. We both operate in a gray area, not truly good, not truly bad. But the perception and ideas that numb people to the hell they live are represented in you, E”
Barely above a whisper do Joanna's words snake their way through the camera and into our ears. Until her final sentence, as she states her issues with Elskerinne’s image, War looks hauntingly past the tripod before her and into the lens through it’s reflection. Her gaze is entrancing, captivating, and holds all the power her words have. Grabbing the shaft of her warhammer, War raises to her feet with calm collected breaths. Once on her feet the camera needs no help of the mirrors to lock eyes with the Visionary.
“It is this that makes my battle with you, fun, E.”
A genuine smile appears on War's face. The right side pulling a bit higher than the left, completing the crooked smile that she wear as she and Death traded blows a few nights ago. Her eyes move up a bit and focus on the wall behind the camera.
“You see, E. I rarely find myself in a situation where I can really let loose. I'm either too passionate, angry, distracted, even bored to really enjoy the pleasure our job offers. But with you, well E, I see it as a chance to face an equal.”
Joanna crosses the room with slow, purpose filled steps. Coming to stop in front of a single mirror panel. As the last word falls from her mouth, she lifts her left hand and caresses her reflections cheek with a small childish giggle.
With War hanging at the edge of the freed the rest of the room draws attention away from the Warchild. Three mannequins stand at the other quarter points of the room. All dressed as Elskerinne has been in recent weeks.
Finally lifting Hephty’s head off the mat and onto her shoulders, Joanna turns from the mirror and skips back to the center of the room. Humming to herself Joanna twists so that her hair drapes over the camera before her forehead and eyes consume the feed.
“Do you get it yet E? I know you're not as crazy as they say, I'm not as crazy they say. But are you as smart as you claim? That's what I wonder. That is what I want to test. I've already proven my will, last Breakthrough showed that even out matched, out powered, out preformed I can still get the job done.”
While her words are calm, War’s eyes grow wider with each word. Less focused on the lens before her, the windows to her soul show the madness growing. Until Joanna pushes herself off of the mat and tumbles over the camera before rolling to her feet. Using her momentum Joanna rams Hephty's maul through the mannequin before her. The loud shattering of plastic fills the feed as the Warchild pulverizes the human form until it is only dust and cloth.
With a disturbingly soft thud, Hephty's head once again rests on the mat. His master's chest heaving up and down as her blue hair acts as a curtain blocking the camera's eye from meeting hers. Each of her appendages twitches with fresh blood and the desire to inflict more destruction. Slowly War turns around, and with a wave of her hand, tosses her hair out of the way so that none have to question her frantic, ever changing mental state.
“I have finally found myself E. And while I see myself in you I also see the filth and putrid aura of the society you not only embrace but encourage. You whom I share so much in common, lack the finality, the conviction, to face you flaws, your past, head on and improve. No you'd rather dance, joke, fuck, your problems out of your mind. Numbing you to the truth.
The truth that you aren't the happy corporate mannequin you claim to be. Trust me E, I see the fear, the worry, the little girl that is just trying to fit in. And while I usually don't like to start things off as brutal as I will with you, understand E, I do this to enlighten you.”
Kneeling down, Joanna picks up a shared of the mannequin that had survived her onslaught. Snickering to herself she raises it to her face so that the blank, unpainted eye covers her left right one. Rising to her feet Joanna tilts her head to the side, making sure the shared doesn't drop.
“You use your speeches to hide the pain. Your dancing and jokes to keep the silence at bay. Your welcoming demeanor to prevent the loneliness away. You run from your problems, making sure to have a friend and lover always around so you never have to face your mind. Your twisted, sick, deranged mind that I know so well. After all, mine is worse!”
The growl Joanna's voice takes on as she speaks her last line sends a shiver through all those watching. However War is far from done. With a flick of her wrist, the Warchild buries the shard into the right mannequin’s forehead as she lurches towards it. No Hephty in hand, the horsewomen uses the tools she was born with in this attack.
Each strike is harder but less focused than the previous one as she bloodies her fists first, then her shins on the plastic human stand in. Not one to waste an opportunity Joanna continues her rant as she rains down blows, the camera catching all angles of the carnage with the aid of the walls of mirrors.
“Fake, Manufactured, Joy! Spineless, Indoctrination, of Sheep! WAKE, UP, ELSKERINNE! WAKE, UP, AND, FACE, THE, TRUTH!”
Each word carries with it the force of Joanna’s new devotion. Hammering the plastic with her flesh, cutting her own skin open, War refuses to relent until the mannequin is nothing more that shards on the training mat. Once her rage seems to subside and she is left kneeling in a pile of her destruction, a disturbing tremble moves through the Horsewoman.
“No, no more. I refuse to let my rebirth be impeded by a societal performing monkey.”
Clutching her temples, Joanna shakes as she mutters those cold words to herself. Her nails dig deeper into her skin as she whips her head from side to side before suddenly wrenching back and screaming her denial of such an event.
“No…..No…..I am War, and while alike she is nothing more than a reflection. A whim of what could have been if I had just fallen in line. E! I promise you carnage, I promise you a wake up call to the truth of reality. Victory may not mean winning a match, that we both agree. But defeat also isn’t measured by a referee. When you face your reflection this Breakthrough, understand my intention is to enlighten you or cripple you!”
Joanna rises to her feet, hunched over in manic laughter as tears pour from her eyes. It seems she’s losing her grip as she turns and looks at the camera, at the final mannequin, the camera, the mannequin, the camera, Hephty, the camera again before taking a deep breath and flashing her crooked smile.
Walking towards her warhammer Joanna licks her lips in primal hunger. There is nothing other than her goal, her path, her hammer. Flicking her wrist Joanna launches Hephty into the air by his shaft, with a small school girl gasp. The pleasure is tangible as Hephty rotates in the air, and time seems to slow.
Around and around Hephty goes before a pale hand grips the entire shaft and brings it crashing down, directing it’s fall across the room. Joanna uses every ounce of strength, even taking a formal striking stance to get the power she utilizes in her kicks to enhance Hephty’s flight. A smile tattooed to her face Joanna and the rest of us watching witness the complete evisceration of the final mannequin as Hephty passes through the plastic figure and buries itself in the mirror behind it.
The resulting crash of glass and domino effect of each reflective surface dieing from the shock wave, cause Joanna to let out a sigh of gleeful relief. Falling to her back Joanna turns her head to face the camera fighting back more laughter.
“E, I hope you’re more than a barbie girl, because if you’re made out of the same fake ideals, platitudes, hopes, or lies that society rams down our throat from a young age. Then I’ll have to prove that while I won’t kill you, I will make you stronger. Have your girlfriend have the hospital on speed dial, and your friend the paparazzi, wouldn’t want you to miss a photo opt at my expense.
We meet at Breakthrough for the first time my one and only reflection, are you ready for War? Because ready or not here I come, I won’t huff, I won’t puff, but I will, oh I will, knock your world apart. The truth hurts E, and I’ll enjoy beating it into your overly positive skull. So you pick fist, or feet?”
As the scene fades to black, Joanna lifts her blood soaked left hand above her. A crimson river flows down her arm as she waves at the camera and those watching.
Dear Journal,
I know you don't like car rides. I tend to stab you a bit too hard and the ink goes everywhere. But Goldie hasn't said a word since we left her family crypt. Yes Journal she's from that kind of family. Mmhmm, I was impressed to, glad to see you're being civil today. Well you're welcome.
Journal this trip has played with my heart so much. The letter found me in England, how this correspondent finds me I don't know. What? Of course I didn't open it, when have I ever opened it since it started. Anyone looking for Joanna Hade can go to my cell in Toad Road and see the remains of her sanity there, I have no interest or desire to deal anything relating to that man that spawned me.
Of course I still resent him Journal, maybe that's why this has been hard. Goldie had good parents and still turned out to be my harmonious twisted match. And I have to face my reflection soon. No, Journal I'm not shadow boxing. No I'm not fighting a mirror, well not until I'm allowed back in the grappling room, I made a mess that upset a few of the Chosen.
I cleaned it up Journal, promise. It's the blood stains that bothered them. Gah you and everyone else, I'm fine. Bleeding just reminds me of my mortality. Yes that is a good thing.
Anyway Journal, I was talking about E. You know E….Elskerinne…..mannequin girl, yes Journal that one we thought would be a flash in the pan. She proved that idea wrong but watching her, listening to her, Journal I'd swear she's my reflection.
NO! JOURNAL! I have Goldie and ew, not that positivity spouting manufactured cunt guzzling mannequin freak. I know I'm off the rails a bit Journal, but you couldn't pay me to go down on that crazy train. No I'm not being insensitive, or hypocrital, not like I'm asking her to take Goldie's place I just see the similarities and find it both exciting and worrisome.
You see Journal, if the cosmos is suppose to keep a balance, then someone as bloodthirsty, deranged, and Chaos loving as me has to have a positive, societal accepting, happy counterpart. E is that very thing. We don't put stock in official records, we let the people decide who really prevails in the ring. We both could careless about those that oppose us, because we know who we are. Each of us has our outlook and nothing can change that, unless we allow it.
It's true Journal, listen. Goldie showed me the way to my evolution into War, but it wasn't until I realized my personal doubt hurt my sisters that I took up the duty and responsibility of the Red Rider. Likewise E has potential but she is held back by her societal chains, chain I aim to remove. She might seem outside society's grip with her willingness to make a fool of herself, seriously Journal she was dancing in the streets. But think of the self entitled, special snowflake, bullshit of the modem people. Being yourself isn't good enough you have to be in everyone's face about being yourself.
Don't you dare Journal, I already hear it in your pages “but you and your sisters are the same way” and to that I say no. We don't force you to watch us, we don't go door to door asking people to admit their flaws and imperfections. We don't yank back the veil to those that want to live in the lies fed to them. We may grandstand, we may command the eyes of sheep every time we step into the ring, but that is the ability Chaos empowers it's Chosen with. The ability to lead, to rise above the masses and show them what they could be. Our lives are forfeit to our ride, and yet it the the people's choice as to whether or not we rode or not.
Journal do you get it? Of course you don't, how could horse flesh and dead trees understand the metaphors of one whom scribbles upon them? I'm sorry you feel that way, but I speak the trust, as I always have.
Victory may not be decided by which person's hand is raised, under that logic I'm undefeated. Yet when I think about it Journal, and I'll be honest it's more often than I'd like, but when I put my mind to it, last week merely proved my will. It reminded my sisters that the world around us needs not be embraced but remolded as is our purpose, and yet this week I face the embodiment of this decrepit society that we seek to reform.
English may be a misguided King that sits on a dying, diseased throne, but E, E is what keeps me up at night. She won't be brought down by words, actions won't prove anything as she can twist them as I can to suit her viewpoint. No only the complete and utter destruction of her soul will change her. Journal that is a fate I don’t look forward to inflicting, but I won’t hesitate to educate the optimist in the cold negativity that is reality.
Thank you Journal I think it’s a fun idea to. War isn’t about what is right and what is wrong, war is about survival and understanding the reality of the situation in front of you. An optimist will overestimate their troops, and pessimist will overestimate their opponent, but a realist will read the field and understand the truth of the matter. War is hell, people die, and what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. My number hasn’t come up so as I face my one and only reflection, Journal, I look forward to learning how to better my ride, with the blood of a manufactured societal mannequin.
Now if you’ll excuse me Goldie seems up for talking, I that you for the distraction Journal, but I must return my focus to assault on VoW. I promised that War was coming, and I never said when it would end.