Post by thewarchild on Sept 11, 2016 17:55:04 GMT -6
War does not determine who is right - only who is left. ~Bertrand Russell
Dear Journal,
Things didn’t go as planned. Journal, I really can’t control it, I can’t even access it. Sure, Journal, I beat Slatie like no one has before, but I failed. I couldn’t push myself to that deeper level, I didn’t destroy him, I just left him laying there. No revolution, no change, just unconscious with his thoughts and MY blood on him. Stop it Journal, I shouldn’t be proud of that win, no, it was a disgraceful show of restraint. I can do better, I know I’m better, I AM BETTER than that! Journal Slatie might have gotten lucky but I refuse to stay chained.
Yes, Journal, yes, that’s why I put myself into the I4NI hunt. No it wasn’t to slight Strife, she deserves her moment, her glory. But I need something to sink my teeth into something, and I’ll be damned if I let that opportunity fall through the Horsewomen’s grip. Williams? Silver Hammer? No Journal, those two don’t get the honor of being in the same breath as Goldie, and since Williams likes to refer to himself as the “Hardcore Hero” I felt it was time I showed him what he really is. A Sadomasochist, just like the rest of us, Journal.
That’s right Journal, the rest of us. For those that deny the pleasures they enjoy while between those three ropes are beyond help. They’ve been so blinded they can’t even see their own emotions clearly, and while Slatie did have a few issues in regard to that, Williams practically personifies the perverse pleasure perfectly!
Oh the Gods Journal, that is some beautiful writing, I know it’s getting sidetracked but I’m going to have to tell that one to Goldie.
Anyway, Journal, the issue I have is after watching Williams win the title, and then Goldie win hers, then failing to finish Slatie correctly, I can’t take it. I love my sister, but I need the punishment that belt calls for, craves for. I need the rush from the copper aroma from the crimson gold I’m addicted to. This isn’t some poetic image or allusion to greed and pride, this is lust, this is gluttony. I need the playground that comes without rules, without restrictions, without CHAINS! Journal I NEED it! Not because of some misguided desire to prove myself, sorry Strife but I’ll take that chip off your shoulder with your head if I have to, or a disillusion about how skilled and talented I am, Silver Hammer. No Journal, no, in this instance Williams and I are just different shades of gray, with the same desire at our core. To have fun with all things pain.
That is my plan Journal, simple and to the point, abuse everyone until I’ve had my fun, and if that means I’m champion the more for me. If that means I lose, well then I’ll make sure the new champion is unable to defend their title at Armed and Dangerous. Oh I know Journal, might mean I squash and insect, break a sister, or cripple another twisted individual. What you failed to understand Journal, is I’m pushing deeper than I did with Slatie, and even that I couldn’t control, just wait until I really let my hair down. I wasn’t the Nightmare I promised, the Nightmare I’ve been told I am, but that just means there’s room for improvement.
Talk to you soon Journal, Shields wanted to show me something.
The camera flickers to life as the person that turned it on moves away from the lens to reveal the office of Opeare Shields, who takes his seat in a leather armchair opposite is patient, the blue haired visionary herself, Joanna Thade. While Shields settles himself, grabbing his binder on Joanna, it was once a small file of simplistic observations from the numerous doctors that Joanna either scared or beat into giving up, Joanna scribbles in her own notorious Journal.
“Thank you for coming Joanna, I have something I would like you to listen to if you would be so kind.” Shields begins as he crosses his legs to support the binder. His calm demeanor give testament to his familiarity with Joanna, who upon hearing her doctor’s request purses her lips and stops scribbling. Letting her tongue dance behind her lips Joanna thinks to herself which earns a small nod from Shields, the doctor slowly motions to a very old, reel style, player. “After your...battle with Mr. Slater and reports from your fiance of restless nights, I figured you might need some help accessing the part of your mind you have hidden.”As Joanna’s brow furrows Shields smiles and continues. “Yes, hidden, even from yourself, Joanna.”
The calm and all knowing tone Shields uses not only intrigues Joanna but also causes her to hurriedly finish her thoughts she contains within her Journal. Taking great care when closing her most prized possession behind the ring that has not once left her hand since Emma gave it to her. “You want to help me push pass something that doesn’t exist? How unlike you Shields, you know better than to bluff with me. What could an open book like me have to hide? What part of myself would I not have access to? You’re sure I’m the one that needs help?” Her words while confident are pointed the way an animal swips when it has been corner. Giving no ground the visionaries eyes narrow on her therapist as he smiles and reaches for the steaming cup of tea next to him.
A small giggle fills the room as Joanna takes Shields’ silence for an answer. Shields on the other hand remains calm, all too familiar with Joanna’s tactics and methods for goading information and gaining the advantage. Shields shakes his head while Joanna begins to fidget in her chair. Tapping her fingers, flexing her muscles, twitching, and being unable to hold a focus for longer than a second, all signs Shields’ knew, expected, and was waiting for. “You want to become the nightmare and monster people dubbed you after you became the Galleria Murderess. You want to access the rage and power that put you inside Toad Road. To let go, and just do, no more thoughts, no more games, freedom from the self loathing abyss that is your mind. You want this, yet when you need it you falter, as evident by Mr. Slater’s ability to walk out of Breakthough.”
Shields stops only to take a sip of the tea as Joanna digs her nails into the leather holding the chair together. A small trickle of blood trickles from her mouth as her teeth sink into her bottom lip. Everything about Joanna screams her Horsewomen moniker, as she fights the urge to jump out of her seat and teach her doctor the error of his ways and words. With a sigh Shields announces his enjoyment of the tea, before locking eyes with Joanna and flicking the recording to life.
“Well do you have any memories from your childhood that you like?” From the first crackle of sound to the small pause in dialog, Joanna’s eyes go wide. She recognises the voice as her former therapist and victim, Dr. Tainsy. As Joanna looks back and forth between the recording and Shields the former motions for her to just listen as her younger self answers Dr. Tainsy’s question.
“Only one, I was four I think. My father and I had rushed inside because of rain and during the mad dash I picked up a baby blue jay.” As she realizes exactly what conversation this is, the current Joanna springs to her feet and wraps her arms around herself. Taking long measured breaths War, is unable to stay still as she starts muttering to herself. Shields on the other hand is scribbling in his own journal of sorts, recording Joanna’s every move and reaction, of which there are many.
“Well go on. Why is this a memory you like?” Current Joanna stops and slowly turns to the record machine. Her mouth stops her muscles relax, and her expression is almost blank for a split second before her crooked smile appears, and she measures Shields as the record keeps spinning.
“Well at first when I showed my father the bird, I saw a look in his eyes that I only saw when he was thinking about my mom. One of the very few times I saw his eyes sparkle. Over a silly bird, and I thought for a second he was proud. But then…”
The record is halted as Joanna closes the distance and rains punches down upon the machine until all that fills the room is the sound of gears struggling to rotate. Joanna doesn’t merely make the machine useless, she continues to hammer her fist onto it as she finishes the story herself. “But then he saw it was a baby, he saw that I had saved a baby. Then before I could even register the emotion I had looking up at the man that spawned me, I was sent flying to the ground from a hard hand. He BERATED me over how the mother might not take it back, that I was stupid, that I should have known better.”
Shields hand flies across the paper as he takes everything down as Joanna’s hands have taken on a crimson coat from demolishing the machine. Cuts litter her fist but the visionary isn’t slowing down, in fact each sentence brings more vigor and force to her blows. “Then he stopped. Looming over me like a beast, the baby bird forgotten, he picked me up and lifted me to his face. The fear I held in that moment, would become something of a constant in my young life, but this was the first time I could feel another’s anger. In his mind he connected the dots, it all made sense and he uttered the words I can NEVER forget.”
A silence falls over the room. The fragments of the machine cover the table and floor around it, Shields has stopped writing, and Joanna wipes her face with her blood covered hands to hide the tears forming in her eyes. The blood calms her for a second before she echoes the words that she’s carried with her since the memory in question. “No, how could you know better, and you’re not that stupid. No, you can’t help it can you? First your mother, then the small animals you’d catch, now this bird...it all makes sense. You’re a monster, you are a living, breathing, monster.” Curling her fist Joanna’s arms shake until she can’t take it anymore and delivers a single punch to the table.
The table screams in protest, but buckles under the sheer force of the strike. Standing calmly in front of the carnage that she caused Joanna speaks calmly. “And he was right. I am a walking, talking, monster.” The finality of her words is above question but even in the wake of what just happened, Shields takes another sip of tea and shakes his head.
“No he wasn’t, but we can discuss that later. I believe you found that depth you have been looking for. I may not condone your methods, Joanna, but I will do as you asked, and help you understand yourself. Best of luck in your match.” As the words fall from his lips, Shields shares a moment with Joanna. The Horsewoman standing statuesque in front of a pile of carnage, and her doctor seated amongst pages of notes, neither moving but understanding each other.
Joanna turns to leave, making a point of picking up her Journal. As he begins to record their final moments Joanna opens the door and leaves the room with the last word. “You can try but as William Tecumseh Sherman said War is cruelty. There is no use trying to reform it. The crueler it is, the sooner it will be over. And Shields, that girl that was afraid died long ago.”
Shields nods his understanding as Joanna shuts the door behind her. Slowly he gets up and walks over to shut off the camera.
“Oh where to begin, where to begin? Oh I know, Hello everyone, welcome to my message to my sister, the champion, and the meat sack I plan on having fun with at Breakthrough fifty-one.”
It doesn’t matter how stupid I feel holding this phone out for recording, I need to get this done. Goldie was nice enough to braid my hair, and while I may not be pure, I like this white tatter shirt. Let them think I’m happy, for even if he took it too far, Shields gave me what I needed to reignite my rage.
“Strife, Katalina, Kitty Mistress, Domme Mommy, you’ve got quite the collection of names now don’t cha sis? Firstly, I’d like to apologize, one for not taking the case match a seriously as I pressured you to, and for kinda stepping on your toes and getting involved in this opportunity. I know I promised you the glory and honor you deserve, that you’re owed, and I will keep that promise. But this is about stacking the odds and leaving nothing to chance. Chaos doesn’t play favorites as we know, and unfortunately for you, I do.”
See Strife, you’re not the only one that can smile on camera. Here’s a kiss just for you, just hope Zahara doesn’t take this the wrong way. Gah, need to clean my screen, I think I’ve got a hair on my lips now, grrr. CRAP! Not the time Joanna focus.
“And you’re my biggest competition in this match. You know my moves inside and out, after all we trained together and then there’s your age. Six years older, five inches taller, and yet still more of a twig than myself. You’ve always been the one most in control, and I’m not referring to your day job sis. I live in the moment, trusting my instincts and just making it up as I go, Goldie has a plan but it’s the end result she cares about, the message it leaves. You, Strife, have a game plan, execute the plan, and laugh as everyone dances to your every touch.”
Oh go that shiver...really? It isn’t that cold, oh well, so what if they know I can cut glass, her touch is hypnotic and so subtle. I can’t help but remember when we first started training, I’ve only felt touches that soft with Goldie and I don’t care if I look weak, or embarrassed. I’m blushing and I’m gonna own it, look at me Strife and giggle if you want, but you won’t giggle when I ram your face into the exposed turnbuckle. I may be staring into a camera but I know when you see this you’ll know exactly what I’m thinking.
“It won’t be sisterly love this time. Quest for the case we worked together, this week we’re enemies, and I’ll spare you the details, but you know how I don’t mind getting blood on my boots as I step over all that dare oppose me on MY battlefield.
With that, Silver Hammer, have you not learned your lesson? You can ‘get hard’”
“All you want, but there still won’t be a happy ending for you. I beat you one on one when I didn’t care, I out performed you in the quest for the case, and now you think you can play in the big sandbox with Strife and I for the I4NI title? Either you have a really thick skull or I’ve done some serious damage to your head. Now it wouldn’t be the first time, but let’s not get into that.”
Gods I don’t want to go there right now. Oh sure take the eyeroll however you want Maxwell, I’ll make sure your head rolls come our match. For it’s in my realm, no rules, no one to save you, and three sacks of flesh to play with.
“In all earnest Maxwell, I’m getting tired of seeing your face on my battlefield. Go bother someone else, or get the message. Crossing this...”
Hammers aren’t the best things to draw lines with, but he’ll get the point.
“Is bad for your health. I enjoy pain, both receiving and giving, and while I can admit you take it like a champ, I’d sooner ram the business end of Hephty here, up my own ass and dance the cha cha than see you as the holder of this championship. You are too clean, too mainstream, and too manufacture for something this gritty. You’ve all the tools but you showed up to shop class, with football pads. Do yourself a favor and GTFO before I kill you, and get away with murder for a second time.”
A few nice spins to show off Hephty, before planting him into the sand. Ah the beach air, finally I was afraid I wouldn’t get a breeze tonight. Take it in Joanna, enjoy the small things. The stars look pretty, I’m gonna let everyone see. A soft voice, no need to yell yet.
“And lastly, but most importantly Heath. Look upon your legacy. Yes, as champion, you’re a star for the rest of us to aim for. You earned the title in a fun fashion, but revealed something I never thought I’d say as often as I’ve had to here at VoW. We’re similar, and yet so vastly different. You and I both like the pain game, don't we Heath? That first casket was just for show, just a tool to bruise Bickerton, much like my hammer. But while you want to take on all challengers, maybe you didn't realize that Heatstroke opened the door to your true nightmares.”
Slow turn and, hi Heath, we've never met but I'm about to educate you in why that fact is a blessing. Sure I look friendly, waving a hello and grinning ear to ear, but that's cause I'm hungry and you're a fat cow ready for the slaughter.
“Hello, Heath Williams, I'm Joanna Thade, I've don't nothing of significance, I've never held a title, instead I bust people open and send messages. Today's little slice of insanity comes sealed with a warning. Last time you didn't have rules in a match, your son visited the ring, he does so this time and I'll make sure to end your family line along with your reign as champion. Strife may disapprove, Goldie might even disagree, but that ring is my battlefield, and War doesn't care if you're old, new, green, blue, boy, girl, champion or squirrel. You step foot on the battlefield you're a target.”
I'm not pointing just at you Williams. I'm pointing at you, Katalina, Maxwell, Slater, Zahara, Winter, English, Katie, Constance, and every damn person on the roster, including Emma. Look into my eyes as I stare you all down and know that I mean exactly what I say. I can taste the blood of the future battles and I relish the scares to come.
“You see Heath, it's all fun and games right? As they say. But that's the thing, it all is a game isn't it? A title for a company that means as little or as much as the person holding it. You wanted to bury Bickerton, congratulations now what? Some can say taking on all comers is brave, bold, a testiment to your fighting spirit.”
“But before Bickerton I can't recall your last claim to fame. I can't recall you doing anything big or ground breaking. You sat in your own drama fueled play ground and picked when and how you'd bend the rules to show just how “heroic” you were. Lies, deception, and a love for pain...see the similarities? You, like Slater, like Iser, like fucking English, all play at being these figures of the human psyche. Images that are notable, relatable, and made for certain roles. Well time for a new script I've read this one before and am sick of the same old shit.”
Wipe it all away, tear the pages that don't exist and use it for toilet paper. That's right look at my ass in these tight jeans you idiotic pig.
“VoW's rebirth has begun and you can either get carried off in the storm of change or get out the way, because you can't stop it. Seriously, congratulations on removing that whale from the title but you drew the battle lines yet weren't prepared for what stepped across it. Death has her icy grip on the throat of the corrupted pile of filth that VoW was. And as it draws it's last breath I plan to hammer in the final nail in the coffin. You know how to do this, you've already done it, and that Heath is where I know you.”
Enjoy the show? Wondering what I'm getting at? No? Of course not you're above that, all of you are.
“Where I know all of you. On my battlefield everyone is the same, hunters and prey unable to accept their eventual fate. Katalina loves her pets and games but doesn't enjoy the brutality of combat. Maxwell is trying to grab a brass ring but forgets that his morals and doubts weigh him down because they are not his own but gifts from society. And Heath you are different in this regard, you're not chasing some dream, not here for the ride, no you're a warrior that just cleared the field, and doesn't know what's next. You made the mistake of not resting and instead have stumbled into an active war zone. One side the old guard, clutching onto their ways and ideals, and on the other, craving a path of destruction are the Horsewomen. But wars a funny thing Heath.”
One last smile, one last look at my piercing green eyes and a look of pure innocence, before twisting and showing my manic joy at this very lovely truth.
“For you see, as Bertrand Russell so simply put, War does not determine who is right - only who is left. And I will be the only one left standing at the end of Breakthrough. Drink up your time in the limelight Heath, after Breakthrough you dine in hell like everyone else I've taken seriously.”
And cut.
