D.R.E.A.M. (Death Rules Everything Around Me)
Mar 27, 2016 16:22:42 GMT -5
Bonnie Blue, Joey Flash, and 3 more like this
Post by K. L. Henson on Mar 27, 2016 16:22:42 GMT -5
> Play
March 7th, 2016.
It was a rattling of a camcorder as the view swished side to side before steadying; displaying an off-white hallway with an off-white linoleum floor, and fluorescent bulbs lighting an ugly and stale image as nurses and doctors traveled from one depressing room to the next, peering at their charts. The edge of the frame was invaded by a jacket zipper before the view was pointed up to reveal Henson's smiling face. Most of his head was covered by a red cap and the hood of the blue spring jacket he hid the camcorder under. He motioned with a finger to his lips, mouthing to keep hush, before pointing it back down to the front. The rustling of the jacket and the tap of the steps were irritatingly audible as Henson approached a nurse sitting at the desk while we stared at a wooden front. The conversation still reached the camcorder with only slightly muffled breaks.
K. L. Henson: Hello, I am here to visit *inaudible* Holden, he was checked in last week.
Nurse: Okay, if you can just sign in here. We have to *inaudible*.
K. L. Henson: Absolutely...
There was more rustling as the camera swayed slightly to the movement of Henson's arm. Then some typing faintly heard before the nurse responded.
Nurse: Okay, Mr. Kale Holden let me lead you down this way to your brother's room.
K. L. Henson: *inaudible*
The view turned and passed the desk and we are then shown the lower half of the nurse ahead as she led Henson down the hall. The clattering and commotion topped out the mic on the ever so cheap camcorder when suddenly the over head speaker called for urgency to Room 236. There appeared to be an emergency with a patient being rushed on a rolling bed with several people running around him yelling to one another as they sped down the hall. This made only a word here and there understandable between the nurse and Henson as she tried trading small talk with.
Nurse: I saw that *inaudible* probably means *inaudible* around here?
K. L. Henson: I'm from outta town, visiting *inaudible* was so worried. *inaudible* that's the hope anyways...
Nurse: Well, that's nice. Here we are...
The camera pointed to an open door. Within the view of the door frame was the end of a hospital bed and a window washed out with over exposure until the camcorder gradually adjusted, making the room darker while the top of a tree came into view.
K. L. Henson: Thank you so much. I was wondering if I could have some privacy with my brother for just a moment?
Nurse: Absolutely! I'll close the door. I'll be back in a little bit to check on both of you.
K. L. Henson: Thank you so much!
The view moved inwards, revealing more of the bed and the room itself. The door clicked shut and the only sound left in the room besides the continual rustling was the beeping and humming of the medical devices Mr. Holden was hooked up to.
Beepbeep, beepbeep, beepbeep, beepbeep...
The view quickly turned to the bed where Mr. Holden laid in a light blue hospital gown. His eyes were closed, tubes hung from his nose and mouth, and an I.V. led down to his wrist. His skin was incredibly pale and his beard thickening. A sigh came from on high as the camcorder was pulled out of the jacket.
K. L. Henson: A depressing sight indeed...
The camera was carried over and set on the night stand, pointed parallel to the bed. Henson quickly walked around and out of view while throwing off his hat and jacket. He returned dragging a chair behind him then spun it around before sitting in front of the camera. He pressed his forearms onto his thighs and stared with a sense of displeasure. His breathing was visibly heavy and his hair was a mess - most likely from the cover he had been hiding under.
K. L. Henson: So here we are, on the fateful day. The Monday after Slam. The day that the World will officially lose a treasure they never respected. It is honestly surprising that this goes so unrecognized! If I had hospitalized a WCF Superstar, people would be up in arms! “Lock him up! He's a menace!” “Disgusting! He'll just do anything to win!” I would practically get crucified in effigy! But when Rebellution does it, it's: “Holden knew what he was getting into!” “It's a dangerous sport! It is the risk we take!” You know how many times I have heard that since I made the announcement?! Endlessly! Whether it be from fans or Rebellution themselves! Bonnie Blue herself called me twisted! She implied that I was gonna get off on pulling the plug on my faithful teammate! If it were me in this hospital bed, it would be fine. I wouldn't want anyone to give me their sympathy! I accept whatever people say about me because I was never worried about. I always did what I wanted with no regard with what people thought! But Mr. Holden...
Henson paused for a moment and looked at his unconscious, vegetable-like, former partner before sighing and dropping his head.
K. L. Henson: But Mr. Holden, despite what I preferred, was trying to help. After I opened his mind – which, by the way, people have been mislabeling as brain washed! - all he could see was sheep around him! He was conscious of the blind leading the blind and now that he could see, he wanted to help everyone else see as well! He tried the best he could to reach out to the WCF roster and try to cure them of their ignorance but, because ignorance masks even the most enlightened words, they just laughed at him and marked him as crazy...Poor Holden, with such good intentions, your impact against the Earth was all that more intense. But that never stopped him, he kept trying to call out the weakness in others. He tried to point out to people where the system has led them astray and where they could find salvation. He wanted to give others what I gave him but, as I know too well, the truth is not meant for everybody.
Henson raised his head and gripped the left side of his face with his hand; his eye peering through the space between his fingers. His smile, spread from ear to ear, was tight with sardonic tension as it twitched wildly. Small bits of chuckling broke through but his eyes were the antithesis to the rest of his face. Empty, still, and dim.
K. L. Henson: So...Did Holden deserve to die?!...Well, who am I to say...hehe...I guess it is all -hehehe- contextual! Do you feel okay with blood on your hands?!? Well?! Andre...Grayson? Do you? Hehehe... Did Holden deserve to die so you could keep your titles?! Was the victory worth the life of another wrestler?! Would you feel bad if it was someone else? Say, Teo or Slane? Would you still feel “They knew the risks”?!?
Henson stood up and picked up the camcorder. The view spun around, creating a shutter roll before an intense close up on Mr. Holden. First it had to focus on the blurry image. But, as it did, the pores on his face became clearer, the dark sunken eyes were more apparent and the tubes and lifelessness became that much more haunting. This was no longer Mr. Holden, no longer Patrilli, no longer a wrestler. He was a ghost of a competitor, an afterthought of a man. This was the prison of a soul yet to be release. (And don't be mistaken, that is the only path for him now.)
K. L. Henson: Look at him! Look at him! He isn't asleep, he isn't even thinking! This man is brain dead because of a mistake you made! Do you even deserve a career, let alone a win!? This man needs machines to breathe for him, to feed him, to pump his blood! This man is no longer alive! He is dead and just not yet aware of it! There will be no returning for Mr. Holden. My loyal partner is gone! The man just wanted to be the best cruiser weight champion that he could! He just wanted to make his team the best tag champions that he could! He even said to me once that he would gladly give his life for House of Ophelia's cause! But thanks to the both of you, this man died for nothing!
There was a pause...
Beepbeep, beepbeep, beepbeep, beepbeep...
Quickly, the view turned around to a close up of Henson's dead stare of a face taking up the whole frame. From this distance, everything he said became slightly distorted as he topped out the mic on the camcorder.
K. L. Henson: It is important that you and the rest of Rebellution understand the extent of my authority. If you aren't the kind that are weary about fines and suspension (as you have shown thus far) then I will dominate you by smashing you physically. Just because I am Mr. Henson, Head of Talent Relations, doesn't mean I have forgotten how to be K. L. Henson the killer. And I don't know if you remember, Gemini...But I am a brutal competitor. I should have finished the job way back in that metal death trap but now it is too late and I will have to settle for fixing my mistake...Hehehe...They don't yet know what I'm about to do to poor Mr. Pierce...You will have your revenge, Holden. I will make sure of that. Now...for the grand-finale...
Henson placed the camera down on the nightstand, but this time facing Mr. Holden.
Beepbeep, beepbeep, beepbeep, beepbeep...
After a second or so, Henson appeared on the other side next to the very machines keeping Mr. Holden alive. He kneed down out of view....
Beepbeep, beepbeep, beepbeep...beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee...
Henson quickly stood up and rushed to the camcorder. The view shook wildly, making it impossible to make out a single image until suddenly we are given the view of the outside from the second floor, the tree in full spring bloom. The view turned to show half of Henson's face, lit by the sun as it stuck out the window. Over his shoulder, the door swung open and behind it appeared several doctors, nurses and security guards.
K. L. Henson: Are they watching? Good...Let the whole world know. I am not afraid of being the man who pulls the plug...
[ ] Stop
What does it mean to be authority? Is it a responsibility of up holding justice? Is it a position of fulfilling your own whims and desires? Is it being the absolute representation of the morals and values your 'realm' holds? To think any of these things would be to misconstrue it into a symbol of self-importance. An authority figure is a programmer. What he puts forth, he does so to mold society. He creates rules and laws, he constructs process, he redirects ebb and flow; all in accordance with the goal to create/recreate a system. He shouldn't look at himself as a provider for the less fortunate, the defender of freedom, or the protector of the people. His one goal is to make the construct more efficient.
Life is dictatorship. Freedom is a false idol. Control is the only security; most effective when one does not know what is being done to them. The ignorant can't understand, no matter how much you explain it to them, so you have to trick them into doing what you want. Usually by using the things you can control to annihilate their options until there are only two left...Sink or swim...
It was the day after Holden's funeral. We had gathered – Kayla, Davidson, and a few others – together at the grave sight after everyone else had left. It was a thick overcast and it had began raining just moments early, coming down in a sparse sprinkling. As I looked from face to face, I realized something very interesting. As they stared down at the headstone of our fallen comrade, it was apparent that these people no longer knew how to react. Their faces were either empty as they gave the thousand yard stare, trying to comprehend what thoughts they could, or they were shifting their glare awkwardly from one person or another. Was death such a fleeting thought to them that this sudden loss left a void in their mind of how they were supposed to respond? Did I manage to take away the absurdity of their mourning?
After a few minutes of silence, Kayla dropped to her knees, face full of fear and her arms limp at her side. All attention turned to her as the question immediately popped into everyone's head.
Kayla Wincer: Why can't I feel anything? My mind is just screaming at me “something is supposed to go here” but I can't figure it out... … ...What am I? Why can't I feel?!
I dropped my head and took a few steps until I was standing side by side with Davidson. I placed my hand on his shoulder and whispered this little, simple command...
K. L. Henson: Kill her.
He stared at me with confusion.
K. L. Henson: It's simple. Just put your hands around her throat and squeeze.
Mr. Davidson: But...why...
I stared at him sharply and gripped tighter onto his shoulder.
K. L. Henson: Look, you are always complaining about her anyways, beating the shit out of her and wishing she would shut up. Well now here is your chance...And if you don't see it that way, then see it this way. I order you to kill her. Choke her to death. Now, or I will show you exactly how easy it really is...
He hesitated for a moment but then slowly started approaching Kayla with his hands held out. Kayla just kept where she was, staring in confusion. It seemed like they were both stuck in an awkwardly choreographed dance unto the moment Davidson finally reached her, then it all sped downhill. Davidson wrapped his fingers around her neck and squeezed almost instantly. He pushed her down to the ground, using the weight of his body for more force, further closing the airway of poor little Kayla. Everyone else stared in awe as I walked a little way aways and took a seat on a headstone.
Kayla tried getting her fingers in the way of her assailant's hands but it was no luck. Her legs kicked wildly as Davidson straddled on top of her. Her face started to turn blue which meant she was finally reaching that point...Sink or swim...
Suddenly...WHAM! She clocked Davidson with a strike on the chin. She continued to hit Davidson until he is forced off with his nose broken and his face bloodied. Kayla quickly scrambled backwards until she reached a tree behind her where she pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Davidson was gripping his face with his head on the ground.
Mr. Davidson: Son of a bitch!
After watching the display, I stood up from the headstone I had been sitting on and started clapping as I walked up to Kayla. I squatted down in front of her and reached out to touch where bruises around her neck were now forming.
K. L. Henson: Beautiful. You were perfect, my little moth on the water. Just as I was hoping.
Davidson got up to his feet, still covering his nose, he stared at me enraged.
Mr. Davidson: You were hoping you were she would do this to me?! What the fuck?!?
I stood up and looked back over my shoulder, ignoring his statement entirely.
K. L. Henson: From here on out, none of you are allowed to die. Holden gave his life for the cause, but I expect the rest of you to take someone else's while fighting to protect your own. I need you to fear death. But not because it means the end, but because it means failure. Fail me and there are worst things than death waiting for you.
I turned and walked off. My authority was present and stated, that was all I needed to know. My group understands my power, but there were others that still didn't. There are others outside my system that still opposed me and spat at me. But that was fine, as my system grows, eventually they will fall under it and they will learn to fear me properly and follow what I say. What I say will be the future and the future will be constructed in my image...
---(K.L.H.)---
We fade into Henson sitting in his office with his legs up on his mahogany desk; a window to the side, lighting half his face and his usual business attire of his white button-up shirt, red suspenders, and navy blue dress pants. On the desk was a key board and computer monitored surrounded by figurines from such shows as One-Punch Man, Steins;Gate, Clannad, etcetera...He fidgeted with a number two pencil between his two hands as he stared up to the ceiling.
K. L. Henson: Must be exhausting keeping up this image of one hundred percent effort one hundred percent of the time. It has to be an enduring experience, Mr. Holmes! What would happen to Mr. Holmes if he cracked? What would happen to poor Andre if people saw him in a lesser light? He has invested so much time and energy into being the 'Relentless' individual he claims to be. It would just kill him if his shield shattered to pieces! But that is exactly why it must! For just as much as he is 'non-stop' and 'cavalier' in those ways that people are oh-so-drawn to, he is also 'reckless' and 'wasteful'. The man lacks control! Nein! He despises control! He is a free spirit that challenges you to tame him only so he can kick you to the dirt. That is exactly the reason he opposed management as soon as he signed that contract! He went to the first suit he saw and spat in his face! Unfortunately for him, that suit he spat at was me!
Henson swung his feet off the desk where he replaced them with his elbows, still not bothering to peer into the camera. He instead tapped the pencil a few times against the top of his desk then focused on the tip as he twirled it into the grain of the wood.
K. L. Henson: Not that it came as any surprise. WCF always had an interesting 'history' when it came to the relations between corporate and the talent. That is exactly why I decided to take the position in the first place, to see if I could make a change in this pattern. Not for the company's sake but just to see if I could. And Andre was the first step. I tried to set down some simple guidelines for him but he refused to see it my way. Not because it was morally questionable or because it was harmful to anyone, but for the simple fact that I am the authority figure he needs to set the example. When I first saw him eye to eye, it was so apparent that his plan was to stir the pot even before I said anything. His eyes had a fire in them and I figured out right then that it didn't matter what I said, he already knew what he was going to do.
Though, the truly unfortunate thing about it is that you can't challenge me and expect it to be as simple as everyone else you've dealt with in the past. No, I saw your intimidation stance with your chest puffed out just begging for confrontation and I chose to take your bluff! Where is that machismo now?! Someone was ready for your little game and decided to play a little game of his own. Did I manage to catch you off guard at all?
Henson swayed his jaw for a moment as he placed the pencil down then instead decided to fidget with the positioning of his Kurisu Makise figurine, deciding whether to face it towards him or towards the camera.
K. L. Henson: Where the audience sees a man of integrity, of principles, of steel, I see an opportunity, a challenge, a puzzle. It was as alluring to me as my power was to you. The funny thing was that, at first, I just wanted to see if I could get you to step back in line. All you had to do was stand down and it would have been over just like that, and only minimal damage would have been dealt. But, soon, I discovered that this was a deeply rooted problem with you. It was the kind of problem where the harder I pushed, the harder you would push back, which ironically would just get me to push back that much harder. This goes on until we find ourselves in a stale mate. But, there was no way either one of us was going to step down - each for our own reasons.
After deciding to face it toward the camera,Henson sighed and finally decided to stop avoiding it, himself; interlocking his fingers and resting them infront of him.
K. L. Henson: Your reasons were always very clear to me even if they really aren't all that clear to you. In fact, you are so blind to it that you can't be bothered to hide it. Ego drives you, Mr. Holmes and your insecurity is the fuel. If you surrendered, then the image you have been developing for yourself would be torn to shreds and you would forever be known as “Cowardly” Andre Holmes for the rest of your life. People would force you to take that to your grave. You can't have that! You're 'Relentless'! You show no remorse! There is only one way to go in the name of ego, so you chose to fight!
But nothing is without an equivalent exchange. What you reinforced in pride, you sacrificed in humanity. Because of your refusal, two people have gotten hurt. One of them died and the other may have just lost his career! You did that, Andre. You! Not me! You could have prevented it. You could have been a good employee and prevented the war. Or you could have at least sacrificed your ego and walked away when you felt a push back...But no! You have to win! You have to have the last word! Even Mr. Pierce – an innocent man at the end of the day as far as you are concerned – couldn't convince you otherwise and god-knows he tried.
He chuckled and raised an index finger up as to emphasize his point with a sense of surety.
K. L. Henson: He knew too. He and I had our own back and forth a ways ago and he knew first-hand just how 'Relentless' I can be. He was willing to help you because you were teammates. But on top of that, you were clueless. At the time, you couldn't understand why I am different than any other authority figure you've seen. Time stopped when I was appointed to power but you didn't have the experience to know why...Do you get it now?...
Eitherway...Mr. Pierce couldn't save you from your folly. Instead, you doomed him by getting him involved. You were so ignorant of your own cause, so wrapped up in yourself, that you got your tag partner put into a coma. The worst part is you just pointed a finger at me and blamed me for everything. How sportsmen-like of you. But no amount of finger point will wake up Grayson. We both know that.
Henson shrugged before re-interlocking his fingers and placing them back down in front of him.
K. L. Henson: Now you may be wondering why I am not looking to shoulder any of the blame. Let me start with the simple answer. Obviously, being an authority figure and having such an unruly talent on my hands, I couldn't very well let you get away with your shenanigans! Not only do I have pressure from the top to deal with the issue but there is a whole system at stake! If I didn't do something, what kind of precedent would that have set? People would start thinking they could do whatever they want and then my position – as well as all the positions above me – would mean nothing! The infrastructure would crumble and eventually WCF itself would fall apart! People would be out of work, starving, without shelter or protection! These people have families! Did you think about that? No, you were selfish like always and decided it was the Andre Holmes Show! I had to do something for the sake of the business!
Henson stood up, grabbing the pencil as he did. He fiddled with it again as he walked around his desk and sat on the front edge.
K. L. Henson: But beyond that, there is something else...Andre, I am not sure if you really understand who you are going up against. Most people around here get the idea. Ask Bonnie, even she will be able to give you a little insight...But generally speaking, I'm not like most people. I don't say that in a bragging manner. Purely factual. I was born with a few missing elements that other people consider fairly important for one to consider themselves to be in the realm of humanity. Most people have a sense of empathy, restraint, and hesitance that keeps them from doing what most would consider inhuman. I do not have the chemicals that encourage these traits. Again, not bragging, just a scientific fact. Some would say that I was born with a demon inside of me. While other, more sane, members of society would say I was born broken. And in a sense I was. I was a poor choice by nature in an attempt at evolution.
Nature has spent years balancing out chemicals to help ensure the survival of our species; blindly, may I add. How much anger will help us preserve our territory, how much lust with help us continue population, how much happiness will help keep us alive? It goes on and on, playing a game of chaos to continue our drift into the future. But sometimes nature likes to take a gamble and throw everything up into the air and see what lands. I was the result of such a situation. Too little empathy and too much curiosity...And curiosity is exactly what it is.
Henson stopped fiddling and instead used the pencil almost as a conductor baton, leading the orchestra of his thoughts.
K. L. Henson: I have a need, an urge if you will, something of a chemical and instinctual nature to reach farther and know more! Something itches in that part of my brain when I see a proverbial mountain to climb, that it is just impossible for me to resist. Maybe that is a little hard for you free-will-ians to grasp onto. Let me try to explain with a little story. Let's wind the clock all the way back to little boy Henson, before-any-blood-had-been-spilt Henson...I remember, vividly, one point in my life where I first acknowledged my...”difference”...Forever I had this weird idea in my head that if I ever took hold of a bird, that, without trying, I would end up crushing it. This was due to the knowledge I had acquired that birds had hollow bones and were fairly fragile animals. The image in my head was that I would somehow get hold of a feathery creature only wanting to hold it for a little bit and, in doing so, the bones would just crack without me even applying the slightest bit of pressure. I don't know why I was so fixed on the idea, but I was.
He stood up from the edge of the desk and stepped to the middle of the room.
K. L. Henson: So, to my surprise, I was home alone when all of a sudden I heard a mad chirping. At first I thought it was coming from outside but as it continued, it came apparent that this noise was coming from inside the house. I got up from doing god knows what and searched out the source of this sound until I was led up to the guest room where a window had been left open. And through this open window, what flew through was a robin which was now chirping away on a ceiling beam. I quickly raced out of the room and eventually returned with a ladder, seeing that the robin had not moved from the place I had left it which struck me as odd. I put the ladder up and climbed. As I got closer to the robin, it because visibly apparent that this was a poor, sick, little bird with feathers all disheveled and one of its eyes all grey. The thing was too blind and ill to know where it was or how to get out. I started to figure that it chirped as a call to any fellow birds to come guide her.
At first I reached up but then hesitated for a moment, drawing back my hand. I didn't want to crush the bird, just hold it and lead it to the window where it had accidentally flown through. But, then there was a thought that overruled my hesitation. Less of a thought and more of a feeling. Something inside me urged me to grab the bird anyways. A sort of question that had to be answered. The question being if I can actually hold the bird without crushing it.
Henson turned and walked over to the window, leaving the camera with a silhouette as he stared to the outside world...
K. L. Henson: I reached up and very lightly put my fingers around her while using the other hand to try to cup underneath. Obviously when my fingers came in contact with this wild animal, it panicked. But besides more incessant chirping and an attempt to open its wingspan which it quickly gave up on, I didn't receive much resistance. So, I continued on and picked the bird off the beam very gently and carefully climbed down the ladder; doing my best to not have any missteps. I made it all the way to the window. But instead of letting it go right there, I stared at it. I took in the details of its colors, texture, and structure. It was that feeling again...It was the curiosity, but this time with a different question...
Before I even thought about doing it, my grip tightened around the bird. It started in again on the squawking as its head jerked this way and that, but I was a thousand miles away; I heard nothing. Instead, I felt. I felt the bones snap. Those hollow bones being crushed to pieces.
A snap could be heard from in front of Henson. As he turned around, for a second it could be seen that the pencil was split in half before being quickly stuffed into his pocket. He walked past his desk, gliding his hand over the wood before taking back his seat and resuming his position as before.
K .L. Henson: Eventually the bird stopped chirping and a minute or so afterwards, I stopped squeezing...That question, that urge...It was the curiosity to see if I could. I know factually I could, but for my own experience, my mind and body needed to know what it would be like to crush that little bird.
Henson held out his right hand open, staring at it for a moment before closing it tight and returning his gaze towards the camera.
K. L Henson: Since then, the feeling arises in me from time to time and what I have developed of my “humanity” washes away in an instant. It is the same feeling that drove me to go after you. It is the same feeling that drove me to destroy Grayson Pierce. Though, what I did to Mr. Pierce wasn't to know I could do so, no. My curiosity with Gemini died out when he beat me fair and square forever ago. I did it to crush YOU! Physical violence doesn't bother Mr. Andre Holmes. Punches and kicks will never leave you beaten as long as you can get back up. If you were that easy, Gemini would still be walking around today, as healthy as ever. I knew I needed to go after something more personal and deep. I needed to make you a failure. I needed to make your 'Relentless lifestyle' to be the demise of you and I needed everyone else to know that that sort of selfishness doesn't end at your own consequence. It effects everyone around you. In this process, I hope to end this free-spirit motto that lives in this company, as there will be no room for it in MY WCF...
And in thinking about it like that. Maybe I'm not the mistake. Maybe everyone else should be considered the mistake. Maybe I was created to right the wrongs that nature committed. Maybe I am the preservation for something bigger! Maybe I exist to kill all the sick little birds. That is exactly what you are, Andre! A sick little bird and you risk spreading the sickness to everyone else! You may not feel it but the virus is inside you. And the more I allow you to do, the more people you come in contact with, the more you spread your disease until it is a god damn pandemic! And I am supposed to play the savior, the chosen one if you will, for a greater plan that no one else could possibly comprehend!
Henson slammed his tightly closed fist onto the table.
K. L. Henson: If that can be the cause that Mr. Holden died for, then so be it! Let him have died in the name of progress! Let his death be the ignition for the future I will lay down before everyone! If his absence means the fall of Andre and in turn the fall of Rebellution, then I forgive him and in a sort of contorted way, I forgive you as you have led to your own demise, Mr. Holmes. If I can't crush you physically then I will crush you emotionally. Turn the audience and the locker room against you and Rebellution and giving you no direction to turn, no one to go to until that very moment where you only have ONE choice...To sink. Sink into nothingness and let me, uninterrupted, lead WCF (and in a way nature itself) to the prosperity it can earn with me spear heading this new and true movement. You can't turn back on your own accord...Then I will make you...
A smug smile lit up on Henson's face as we faded to black.
> Play
Once again, there was a rattling of a camera, but this time we appeared to be outside, but yet at another hospital. The camcorder was pointed inside a window; and passed the glare and reflection, if one looked real close, one could spot Grayson Pierce laying in a hospital bed with a feeding tube sticking out of his mouth. Suddenly we cut to the inside where heavy breathing can be heard from behind the camcorder which was pointed at an outlet moving up to a heart rate monitor then pulled out for a full view of Grayson Pierce and an open window.
K. L. Henson: Here is poor ol' Mr. Pierce, sleeping off a tough Sunday night for who knows how long...
Our view moves closer to Grayson's face as Henson's hand reached out to caress it.
K. L. Henson: One of the best, now stuck in a hospital bed. Gasp! But it was just an accident! Gemini knew the risk! This is a violent sport!...hehe...hehehe...What? What's that, Grayson?...
The camcorder pointed to the wall as the mic was placed right next to Grayson's mouth where all that could be heard was his breathing topping out the mic, before being pulled back and pointed to Henson who was giving a facetious sad expression.
K. L. Henson: You want me to do what? Kill you?!? Let you free from your earthly tomb?...
The view swung to all around the room, showing nothing but shutter roll...
K. L. Henson: But there is no plug anywhere to pull! Being that your just in a coma, you don't need life support...
The image stops back on Grayson. Henson's hand reached out and grabbed the feeding tube that hung from the mouth.
K. L. Henson: I guess I could tangle this up and starve you to death. Heard that is actually a pleasant way to die. Endorphins get released into your body, leaving you in euphoria before you go silently into the night. Hmmm...
After twisting it this way and that, Henson let go with a sigh.
K. L. Henson: huh, this is incredibly boring...
The camera shifted from one side of the room to the other a few time before landing on some flowers and a card.
K. L. Henson: What's this?
We quickly approached, first shown the card which was signed by all the remaining members of Rebellution with a note of “Get Well Soon”
K. L. Henson: Well, that's dumb...
Henson tossed the card and then picked up the flowers...
K. L. Henson: Really? Flowers? He can't smell anything idiots! He's in a coma! Isn't that right, Grayson.
Gain we are rushed over to an even closer shot of Grayson's face.
K. L. Henson: Hey...Hey Grayson, I'm talking to you...
Henson slaps him a couple of times. Slapping a little hard each time.
Slap...slap!...SLAP!
K. L. Henson: Graaaaaysooooon. Fine, be that way...Rude much?...I wonder how much they would freak out if I...
The camera pointed down to Grayson's chest. Henson pulled aside the hospital gown, revealing nodes for the heart monitor. Henson reached for the wires and yanked. The nodes ripped off the body, causing the monitor to flat line. Henson placed the camcorder tight to his side as he exited the room and yelled down the hall.
K. L. Henson: Help! Help! Someone! He's flat lining!!! He needs help!
Almost out of nowhere, a herd of doctors come zooming past, one rushing a defibrillator in from behind. Whether they use it or not is unknown because just as the last doctor strolled in, Henson turned away down the hall and aimed the camera towards him has he walked out. No longer did he have the look of sardonic pleasure. Instead, it was replaced with the strict straight face of command.
K. L. Henson: Explosion, this Sunday. Andre joins Grayson. No exceptions.
[ ] Stop
March 7th, 2016.
It was a rattling of a camcorder as the view swished side to side before steadying; displaying an off-white hallway with an off-white linoleum floor, and fluorescent bulbs lighting an ugly and stale image as nurses and doctors traveled from one depressing room to the next, peering at their charts. The edge of the frame was invaded by a jacket zipper before the view was pointed up to reveal Henson's smiling face. Most of his head was covered by a red cap and the hood of the blue spring jacket he hid the camcorder under. He motioned with a finger to his lips, mouthing to keep hush, before pointing it back down to the front. The rustling of the jacket and the tap of the steps were irritatingly audible as Henson approached a nurse sitting at the desk while we stared at a wooden front. The conversation still reached the camcorder with only slightly muffled breaks.
K. L. Henson: Hello, I am here to visit *inaudible* Holden, he was checked in last week.
Nurse: Okay, if you can just sign in here. We have to *inaudible*.
K. L. Henson: Absolutely...
There was more rustling as the camera swayed slightly to the movement of Henson's arm. Then some typing faintly heard before the nurse responded.
Nurse: Okay, Mr. Kale Holden let me lead you down this way to your brother's room.
K. L. Henson: *inaudible*
The view turned and passed the desk and we are then shown the lower half of the nurse ahead as she led Henson down the hall. The clattering and commotion topped out the mic on the ever so cheap camcorder when suddenly the over head speaker called for urgency to Room 236. There appeared to be an emergency with a patient being rushed on a rolling bed with several people running around him yelling to one another as they sped down the hall. This made only a word here and there understandable between the nurse and Henson as she tried trading small talk with.
Nurse: I saw that *inaudible* probably means *inaudible* around here?
K. L. Henson: I'm from outta town, visiting *inaudible* was so worried. *inaudible* that's the hope anyways...
Nurse: Well, that's nice. Here we are...
The camera pointed to an open door. Within the view of the door frame was the end of a hospital bed and a window washed out with over exposure until the camcorder gradually adjusted, making the room darker while the top of a tree came into view.
K. L. Henson: Thank you so much. I was wondering if I could have some privacy with my brother for just a moment?
Nurse: Absolutely! I'll close the door. I'll be back in a little bit to check on both of you.
K. L. Henson: Thank you so much!
The view moved inwards, revealing more of the bed and the room itself. The door clicked shut and the only sound left in the room besides the continual rustling was the beeping and humming of the medical devices Mr. Holden was hooked up to.
Beepbeep, beepbeep, beepbeep, beepbeep...
The view quickly turned to the bed where Mr. Holden laid in a light blue hospital gown. His eyes were closed, tubes hung from his nose and mouth, and an I.V. led down to his wrist. His skin was incredibly pale and his beard thickening. A sigh came from on high as the camcorder was pulled out of the jacket.
K. L. Henson: A depressing sight indeed...
The camera was carried over and set on the night stand, pointed parallel to the bed. Henson quickly walked around and out of view while throwing off his hat and jacket. He returned dragging a chair behind him then spun it around before sitting in front of the camera. He pressed his forearms onto his thighs and stared with a sense of displeasure. His breathing was visibly heavy and his hair was a mess - most likely from the cover he had been hiding under.
K. L. Henson: So here we are, on the fateful day. The Monday after Slam. The day that the World will officially lose a treasure they never respected. It is honestly surprising that this goes so unrecognized! If I had hospitalized a WCF Superstar, people would be up in arms! “Lock him up! He's a menace!” “Disgusting! He'll just do anything to win!” I would practically get crucified in effigy! But when Rebellution does it, it's: “Holden knew what he was getting into!” “It's a dangerous sport! It is the risk we take!” You know how many times I have heard that since I made the announcement?! Endlessly! Whether it be from fans or Rebellution themselves! Bonnie Blue herself called me twisted! She implied that I was gonna get off on pulling the plug on my faithful teammate! If it were me in this hospital bed, it would be fine. I wouldn't want anyone to give me their sympathy! I accept whatever people say about me because I was never worried about. I always did what I wanted with no regard with what people thought! But Mr. Holden...
Henson paused for a moment and looked at his unconscious, vegetable-like, former partner before sighing and dropping his head.
K. L. Henson: But Mr. Holden, despite what I preferred, was trying to help. After I opened his mind – which, by the way, people have been mislabeling as brain washed! - all he could see was sheep around him! He was conscious of the blind leading the blind and now that he could see, he wanted to help everyone else see as well! He tried the best he could to reach out to the WCF roster and try to cure them of their ignorance but, because ignorance masks even the most enlightened words, they just laughed at him and marked him as crazy...Poor Holden, with such good intentions, your impact against the Earth was all that more intense. But that never stopped him, he kept trying to call out the weakness in others. He tried to point out to people where the system has led them astray and where they could find salvation. He wanted to give others what I gave him but, as I know too well, the truth is not meant for everybody.
Henson raised his head and gripped the left side of his face with his hand; his eye peering through the space between his fingers. His smile, spread from ear to ear, was tight with sardonic tension as it twitched wildly. Small bits of chuckling broke through but his eyes were the antithesis to the rest of his face. Empty, still, and dim.
K. L. Henson: So...Did Holden deserve to die?!...Well, who am I to say...hehe...I guess it is all -hehehe- contextual! Do you feel okay with blood on your hands?!? Well?! Andre...Grayson? Do you? Hehehe... Did Holden deserve to die so you could keep your titles?! Was the victory worth the life of another wrestler?! Would you feel bad if it was someone else? Say, Teo or Slane? Would you still feel “They knew the risks”?!?
Henson stood up and picked up the camcorder. The view spun around, creating a shutter roll before an intense close up on Mr. Holden. First it had to focus on the blurry image. But, as it did, the pores on his face became clearer, the dark sunken eyes were more apparent and the tubes and lifelessness became that much more haunting. This was no longer Mr. Holden, no longer Patrilli, no longer a wrestler. He was a ghost of a competitor, an afterthought of a man. This was the prison of a soul yet to be release. (And don't be mistaken, that is the only path for him now.)
K. L. Henson: Look at him! Look at him! He isn't asleep, he isn't even thinking! This man is brain dead because of a mistake you made! Do you even deserve a career, let alone a win!? This man needs machines to breathe for him, to feed him, to pump his blood! This man is no longer alive! He is dead and just not yet aware of it! There will be no returning for Mr. Holden. My loyal partner is gone! The man just wanted to be the best cruiser weight champion that he could! He just wanted to make his team the best tag champions that he could! He even said to me once that he would gladly give his life for House of Ophelia's cause! But thanks to the both of you, this man died for nothing!
There was a pause...
Beepbeep, beepbeep, beepbeep, beepbeep...
Quickly, the view turned around to a close up of Henson's dead stare of a face taking up the whole frame. From this distance, everything he said became slightly distorted as he topped out the mic on the camcorder.
K. L. Henson: It is important that you and the rest of Rebellution understand the extent of my authority. If you aren't the kind that are weary about fines and suspension (as you have shown thus far) then I will dominate you by smashing you physically. Just because I am Mr. Henson, Head of Talent Relations, doesn't mean I have forgotten how to be K. L. Henson the killer. And I don't know if you remember, Gemini...But I am a brutal competitor. I should have finished the job way back in that metal death trap but now it is too late and I will have to settle for fixing my mistake...Hehehe...They don't yet know what I'm about to do to poor Mr. Pierce...You will have your revenge, Holden. I will make sure of that. Now...for the grand-finale...
Henson placed the camera down on the nightstand, but this time facing Mr. Holden.
Beepbeep, beepbeep, beepbeep, beepbeep...
After a second or so, Henson appeared on the other side next to the very machines keeping Mr. Holden alive. He kneed down out of view....
Beepbeep, beepbeep, beepbeep...beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee...
Henson quickly stood up and rushed to the camcorder. The view shook wildly, making it impossible to make out a single image until suddenly we are given the view of the outside from the second floor, the tree in full spring bloom. The view turned to show half of Henson's face, lit by the sun as it stuck out the window. Over his shoulder, the door swung open and behind it appeared several doctors, nurses and security guards.
K. L. Henson: Are they watching? Good...Let the whole world know. I am not afraid of being the man who pulls the plug...
[ ] Stop
What does it mean to be authority? Is it a responsibility of up holding justice? Is it a position of fulfilling your own whims and desires? Is it being the absolute representation of the morals and values your 'realm' holds? To think any of these things would be to misconstrue it into a symbol of self-importance. An authority figure is a programmer. What he puts forth, he does so to mold society. He creates rules and laws, he constructs process, he redirects ebb and flow; all in accordance with the goal to create/recreate a system. He shouldn't look at himself as a provider for the less fortunate, the defender of freedom, or the protector of the people. His one goal is to make the construct more efficient.
Life is dictatorship. Freedom is a false idol. Control is the only security; most effective when one does not know what is being done to them. The ignorant can't understand, no matter how much you explain it to them, so you have to trick them into doing what you want. Usually by using the things you can control to annihilate their options until there are only two left...Sink or swim...
It was the day after Holden's funeral. We had gathered – Kayla, Davidson, and a few others – together at the grave sight after everyone else had left. It was a thick overcast and it had began raining just moments early, coming down in a sparse sprinkling. As I looked from face to face, I realized something very interesting. As they stared down at the headstone of our fallen comrade, it was apparent that these people no longer knew how to react. Their faces were either empty as they gave the thousand yard stare, trying to comprehend what thoughts they could, or they were shifting their glare awkwardly from one person or another. Was death such a fleeting thought to them that this sudden loss left a void in their mind of how they were supposed to respond? Did I manage to take away the absurdity of their mourning?
After a few minutes of silence, Kayla dropped to her knees, face full of fear and her arms limp at her side. All attention turned to her as the question immediately popped into everyone's head.
Kayla Wincer: Why can't I feel anything? My mind is just screaming at me “something is supposed to go here” but I can't figure it out... … ...What am I? Why can't I feel?!
I dropped my head and took a few steps until I was standing side by side with Davidson. I placed my hand on his shoulder and whispered this little, simple command...
K. L. Henson: Kill her.
He stared at me with confusion.
K. L. Henson: It's simple. Just put your hands around her throat and squeeze.
Mr. Davidson: But...why...
I stared at him sharply and gripped tighter onto his shoulder.
K. L. Henson: Look, you are always complaining about her anyways, beating the shit out of her and wishing she would shut up. Well now here is your chance...And if you don't see it that way, then see it this way. I order you to kill her. Choke her to death. Now, or I will show you exactly how easy it really is...
He hesitated for a moment but then slowly started approaching Kayla with his hands held out. Kayla just kept where she was, staring in confusion. It seemed like they were both stuck in an awkwardly choreographed dance unto the moment Davidson finally reached her, then it all sped downhill. Davidson wrapped his fingers around her neck and squeezed almost instantly. He pushed her down to the ground, using the weight of his body for more force, further closing the airway of poor little Kayla. Everyone else stared in awe as I walked a little way aways and took a seat on a headstone.
Kayla tried getting her fingers in the way of her assailant's hands but it was no luck. Her legs kicked wildly as Davidson straddled on top of her. Her face started to turn blue which meant she was finally reaching that point...Sink or swim...
Suddenly...WHAM! She clocked Davidson with a strike on the chin. She continued to hit Davidson until he is forced off with his nose broken and his face bloodied. Kayla quickly scrambled backwards until she reached a tree behind her where she pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Davidson was gripping his face with his head on the ground.
Mr. Davidson: Son of a bitch!
After watching the display, I stood up from the headstone I had been sitting on and started clapping as I walked up to Kayla. I squatted down in front of her and reached out to touch where bruises around her neck were now forming.
K. L. Henson: Beautiful. You were perfect, my little moth on the water. Just as I was hoping.
Davidson got up to his feet, still covering his nose, he stared at me enraged.
Mr. Davidson: You were hoping you were she would do this to me?! What the fuck?!?
I stood up and looked back over my shoulder, ignoring his statement entirely.
K. L. Henson: From here on out, none of you are allowed to die. Holden gave his life for the cause, but I expect the rest of you to take someone else's while fighting to protect your own. I need you to fear death. But not because it means the end, but because it means failure. Fail me and there are worst things than death waiting for you.
I turned and walked off. My authority was present and stated, that was all I needed to know. My group understands my power, but there were others that still didn't. There are others outside my system that still opposed me and spat at me. But that was fine, as my system grows, eventually they will fall under it and they will learn to fear me properly and follow what I say. What I say will be the future and the future will be constructed in my image...
---(K.L.H.)---
We fade into Henson sitting in his office with his legs up on his mahogany desk; a window to the side, lighting half his face and his usual business attire of his white button-up shirt, red suspenders, and navy blue dress pants. On the desk was a key board and computer monitored surrounded by figurines from such shows as One-Punch Man, Steins;Gate, Clannad, etcetera...He fidgeted with a number two pencil between his two hands as he stared up to the ceiling.
K. L. Henson: Must be exhausting keeping up this image of one hundred percent effort one hundred percent of the time. It has to be an enduring experience, Mr. Holmes! What would happen to Mr. Holmes if he cracked? What would happen to poor Andre if people saw him in a lesser light? He has invested so much time and energy into being the 'Relentless' individual he claims to be. It would just kill him if his shield shattered to pieces! But that is exactly why it must! For just as much as he is 'non-stop' and 'cavalier' in those ways that people are oh-so-drawn to, he is also 'reckless' and 'wasteful'. The man lacks control! Nein! He despises control! He is a free spirit that challenges you to tame him only so he can kick you to the dirt. That is exactly the reason he opposed management as soon as he signed that contract! He went to the first suit he saw and spat in his face! Unfortunately for him, that suit he spat at was me!
Henson swung his feet off the desk where he replaced them with his elbows, still not bothering to peer into the camera. He instead tapped the pencil a few times against the top of his desk then focused on the tip as he twirled it into the grain of the wood.
K. L. Henson: Not that it came as any surprise. WCF always had an interesting 'history' when it came to the relations between corporate and the talent. That is exactly why I decided to take the position in the first place, to see if I could make a change in this pattern. Not for the company's sake but just to see if I could. And Andre was the first step. I tried to set down some simple guidelines for him but he refused to see it my way. Not because it was morally questionable or because it was harmful to anyone, but for the simple fact that I am the authority figure he needs to set the example. When I first saw him eye to eye, it was so apparent that his plan was to stir the pot even before I said anything. His eyes had a fire in them and I figured out right then that it didn't matter what I said, he already knew what he was going to do.
Though, the truly unfortunate thing about it is that you can't challenge me and expect it to be as simple as everyone else you've dealt with in the past. No, I saw your intimidation stance with your chest puffed out just begging for confrontation and I chose to take your bluff! Where is that machismo now?! Someone was ready for your little game and decided to play a little game of his own. Did I manage to catch you off guard at all?
Henson swayed his jaw for a moment as he placed the pencil down then instead decided to fidget with the positioning of his Kurisu Makise figurine, deciding whether to face it towards him or towards the camera.
K. L. Henson: Where the audience sees a man of integrity, of principles, of steel, I see an opportunity, a challenge, a puzzle. It was as alluring to me as my power was to you. The funny thing was that, at first, I just wanted to see if I could get you to step back in line. All you had to do was stand down and it would have been over just like that, and only minimal damage would have been dealt. But, soon, I discovered that this was a deeply rooted problem with you. It was the kind of problem where the harder I pushed, the harder you would push back, which ironically would just get me to push back that much harder. This goes on until we find ourselves in a stale mate. But, there was no way either one of us was going to step down - each for our own reasons.
After deciding to face it toward the camera,Henson sighed and finally decided to stop avoiding it, himself; interlocking his fingers and resting them infront of him.
K. L. Henson: Your reasons were always very clear to me even if they really aren't all that clear to you. In fact, you are so blind to it that you can't be bothered to hide it. Ego drives you, Mr. Holmes and your insecurity is the fuel. If you surrendered, then the image you have been developing for yourself would be torn to shreds and you would forever be known as “Cowardly” Andre Holmes for the rest of your life. People would force you to take that to your grave. You can't have that! You're 'Relentless'! You show no remorse! There is only one way to go in the name of ego, so you chose to fight!
But nothing is without an equivalent exchange. What you reinforced in pride, you sacrificed in humanity. Because of your refusal, two people have gotten hurt. One of them died and the other may have just lost his career! You did that, Andre. You! Not me! You could have prevented it. You could have been a good employee and prevented the war. Or you could have at least sacrificed your ego and walked away when you felt a push back...But no! You have to win! You have to have the last word! Even Mr. Pierce – an innocent man at the end of the day as far as you are concerned – couldn't convince you otherwise and god-knows he tried.
He chuckled and raised an index finger up as to emphasize his point with a sense of surety.
K. L. Henson: He knew too. He and I had our own back and forth a ways ago and he knew first-hand just how 'Relentless' I can be. He was willing to help you because you were teammates. But on top of that, you were clueless. At the time, you couldn't understand why I am different than any other authority figure you've seen. Time stopped when I was appointed to power but you didn't have the experience to know why...Do you get it now?...
Eitherway...Mr. Pierce couldn't save you from your folly. Instead, you doomed him by getting him involved. You were so ignorant of your own cause, so wrapped up in yourself, that you got your tag partner put into a coma. The worst part is you just pointed a finger at me and blamed me for everything. How sportsmen-like of you. But no amount of finger point will wake up Grayson. We both know that.
Henson shrugged before re-interlocking his fingers and placing them back down in front of him.
K. L. Henson: Now you may be wondering why I am not looking to shoulder any of the blame. Let me start with the simple answer. Obviously, being an authority figure and having such an unruly talent on my hands, I couldn't very well let you get away with your shenanigans! Not only do I have pressure from the top to deal with the issue but there is a whole system at stake! If I didn't do something, what kind of precedent would that have set? People would start thinking they could do whatever they want and then my position – as well as all the positions above me – would mean nothing! The infrastructure would crumble and eventually WCF itself would fall apart! People would be out of work, starving, without shelter or protection! These people have families! Did you think about that? No, you were selfish like always and decided it was the Andre Holmes Show! I had to do something for the sake of the business!
Henson stood up, grabbing the pencil as he did. He fiddled with it again as he walked around his desk and sat on the front edge.
K. L. Henson: But beyond that, there is something else...Andre, I am not sure if you really understand who you are going up against. Most people around here get the idea. Ask Bonnie, even she will be able to give you a little insight...But generally speaking, I'm not like most people. I don't say that in a bragging manner. Purely factual. I was born with a few missing elements that other people consider fairly important for one to consider themselves to be in the realm of humanity. Most people have a sense of empathy, restraint, and hesitance that keeps them from doing what most would consider inhuman. I do not have the chemicals that encourage these traits. Again, not bragging, just a scientific fact. Some would say that I was born with a demon inside of me. While other, more sane, members of society would say I was born broken. And in a sense I was. I was a poor choice by nature in an attempt at evolution.
Nature has spent years balancing out chemicals to help ensure the survival of our species; blindly, may I add. How much anger will help us preserve our territory, how much lust with help us continue population, how much happiness will help keep us alive? It goes on and on, playing a game of chaos to continue our drift into the future. But sometimes nature likes to take a gamble and throw everything up into the air and see what lands. I was the result of such a situation. Too little empathy and too much curiosity...And curiosity is exactly what it is.
Henson stopped fiddling and instead used the pencil almost as a conductor baton, leading the orchestra of his thoughts.
K. L. Henson: I have a need, an urge if you will, something of a chemical and instinctual nature to reach farther and know more! Something itches in that part of my brain when I see a proverbial mountain to climb, that it is just impossible for me to resist. Maybe that is a little hard for you free-will-ians to grasp onto. Let me try to explain with a little story. Let's wind the clock all the way back to little boy Henson, before-any-blood-had-been-spilt Henson...I remember, vividly, one point in my life where I first acknowledged my...”difference”...Forever I had this weird idea in my head that if I ever took hold of a bird, that, without trying, I would end up crushing it. This was due to the knowledge I had acquired that birds had hollow bones and were fairly fragile animals. The image in my head was that I would somehow get hold of a feathery creature only wanting to hold it for a little bit and, in doing so, the bones would just crack without me even applying the slightest bit of pressure. I don't know why I was so fixed on the idea, but I was.
He stood up from the edge of the desk and stepped to the middle of the room.
K. L. Henson: So, to my surprise, I was home alone when all of a sudden I heard a mad chirping. At first I thought it was coming from outside but as it continued, it came apparent that this noise was coming from inside the house. I got up from doing god knows what and searched out the source of this sound until I was led up to the guest room where a window had been left open. And through this open window, what flew through was a robin which was now chirping away on a ceiling beam. I quickly raced out of the room and eventually returned with a ladder, seeing that the robin had not moved from the place I had left it which struck me as odd. I put the ladder up and climbed. As I got closer to the robin, it because visibly apparent that this was a poor, sick, little bird with feathers all disheveled and one of its eyes all grey. The thing was too blind and ill to know where it was or how to get out. I started to figure that it chirped as a call to any fellow birds to come guide her.
At first I reached up but then hesitated for a moment, drawing back my hand. I didn't want to crush the bird, just hold it and lead it to the window where it had accidentally flown through. But, then there was a thought that overruled my hesitation. Less of a thought and more of a feeling. Something inside me urged me to grab the bird anyways. A sort of question that had to be answered. The question being if I can actually hold the bird without crushing it.
Henson turned and walked over to the window, leaving the camera with a silhouette as he stared to the outside world...
K. L. Henson: I reached up and very lightly put my fingers around her while using the other hand to try to cup underneath. Obviously when my fingers came in contact with this wild animal, it panicked. But besides more incessant chirping and an attempt to open its wingspan which it quickly gave up on, I didn't receive much resistance. So, I continued on and picked the bird off the beam very gently and carefully climbed down the ladder; doing my best to not have any missteps. I made it all the way to the window. But instead of letting it go right there, I stared at it. I took in the details of its colors, texture, and structure. It was that feeling again...It was the curiosity, but this time with a different question...
Before I even thought about doing it, my grip tightened around the bird. It started in again on the squawking as its head jerked this way and that, but I was a thousand miles away; I heard nothing. Instead, I felt. I felt the bones snap. Those hollow bones being crushed to pieces.
A snap could be heard from in front of Henson. As he turned around, for a second it could be seen that the pencil was split in half before being quickly stuffed into his pocket. He walked past his desk, gliding his hand over the wood before taking back his seat and resuming his position as before.
K .L. Henson: Eventually the bird stopped chirping and a minute or so afterwards, I stopped squeezing...That question, that urge...It was the curiosity to see if I could. I know factually I could, but for my own experience, my mind and body needed to know what it would be like to crush that little bird.
Henson held out his right hand open, staring at it for a moment before closing it tight and returning his gaze towards the camera.
K. L Henson: Since then, the feeling arises in me from time to time and what I have developed of my “humanity” washes away in an instant. It is the same feeling that drove me to go after you. It is the same feeling that drove me to destroy Grayson Pierce. Though, what I did to Mr. Pierce wasn't to know I could do so, no. My curiosity with Gemini died out when he beat me fair and square forever ago. I did it to crush YOU! Physical violence doesn't bother Mr. Andre Holmes. Punches and kicks will never leave you beaten as long as you can get back up. If you were that easy, Gemini would still be walking around today, as healthy as ever. I knew I needed to go after something more personal and deep. I needed to make you a failure. I needed to make your 'Relentless lifestyle' to be the demise of you and I needed everyone else to know that that sort of selfishness doesn't end at your own consequence. It effects everyone around you. In this process, I hope to end this free-spirit motto that lives in this company, as there will be no room for it in MY WCF...
And in thinking about it like that. Maybe I'm not the mistake. Maybe everyone else should be considered the mistake. Maybe I was created to right the wrongs that nature committed. Maybe I am the preservation for something bigger! Maybe I exist to kill all the sick little birds. That is exactly what you are, Andre! A sick little bird and you risk spreading the sickness to everyone else! You may not feel it but the virus is inside you. And the more I allow you to do, the more people you come in contact with, the more you spread your disease until it is a god damn pandemic! And I am supposed to play the savior, the chosen one if you will, for a greater plan that no one else could possibly comprehend!
Henson slammed his tightly closed fist onto the table.
K. L. Henson: If that can be the cause that Mr. Holden died for, then so be it! Let him have died in the name of progress! Let his death be the ignition for the future I will lay down before everyone! If his absence means the fall of Andre and in turn the fall of Rebellution, then I forgive him and in a sort of contorted way, I forgive you as you have led to your own demise, Mr. Holmes. If I can't crush you physically then I will crush you emotionally. Turn the audience and the locker room against you and Rebellution and giving you no direction to turn, no one to go to until that very moment where you only have ONE choice...To sink. Sink into nothingness and let me, uninterrupted, lead WCF (and in a way nature itself) to the prosperity it can earn with me spear heading this new and true movement. You can't turn back on your own accord...Then I will make you...
A smug smile lit up on Henson's face as we faded to black.
> Play
Once again, there was a rattling of a camera, but this time we appeared to be outside, but yet at another hospital. The camcorder was pointed inside a window; and passed the glare and reflection, if one looked real close, one could spot Grayson Pierce laying in a hospital bed with a feeding tube sticking out of his mouth. Suddenly we cut to the inside where heavy breathing can be heard from behind the camcorder which was pointed at an outlet moving up to a heart rate monitor then pulled out for a full view of Grayson Pierce and an open window.
K. L. Henson: Here is poor ol' Mr. Pierce, sleeping off a tough Sunday night for who knows how long...
Our view moves closer to Grayson's face as Henson's hand reached out to caress it.
K. L. Henson: One of the best, now stuck in a hospital bed. Gasp! But it was just an accident! Gemini knew the risk! This is a violent sport!...hehe...hehehe...What? What's that, Grayson?...
The camcorder pointed to the wall as the mic was placed right next to Grayson's mouth where all that could be heard was his breathing topping out the mic, before being pulled back and pointed to Henson who was giving a facetious sad expression.
K. L. Henson: You want me to do what? Kill you?!? Let you free from your earthly tomb?...
The view swung to all around the room, showing nothing but shutter roll...
K. L. Henson: But there is no plug anywhere to pull! Being that your just in a coma, you don't need life support...
The image stops back on Grayson. Henson's hand reached out and grabbed the feeding tube that hung from the mouth.
K. L. Henson: I guess I could tangle this up and starve you to death. Heard that is actually a pleasant way to die. Endorphins get released into your body, leaving you in euphoria before you go silently into the night. Hmmm...
After twisting it this way and that, Henson let go with a sigh.
K. L. Henson: huh, this is incredibly boring...
The camera shifted from one side of the room to the other a few time before landing on some flowers and a card.
K. L. Henson: What's this?
We quickly approached, first shown the card which was signed by all the remaining members of Rebellution with a note of “Get Well Soon”
K. L. Henson: Well, that's dumb...
Henson tossed the card and then picked up the flowers...
K. L. Henson: Really? Flowers? He can't smell anything idiots! He's in a coma! Isn't that right, Grayson.
Gain we are rushed over to an even closer shot of Grayson's face.
K. L. Henson: Hey...Hey Grayson, I'm talking to you...
Henson slaps him a couple of times. Slapping a little hard each time.
Slap...slap!...SLAP!
K. L. Henson: Graaaaaysooooon. Fine, be that way...Rude much?...I wonder how much they would freak out if I...
The camera pointed down to Grayson's chest. Henson pulled aside the hospital gown, revealing nodes for the heart monitor. Henson reached for the wires and yanked. The nodes ripped off the body, causing the monitor to flat line. Henson placed the camcorder tight to his side as he exited the room and yelled down the hall.
K. L. Henson: Help! Help! Someone! He's flat lining!!! He needs help!
Almost out of nowhere, a herd of doctors come zooming past, one rushing a defibrillator in from behind. Whether they use it or not is unknown because just as the last doctor strolled in, Henson turned away down the hall and aimed the camera towards him has he walked out. No longer did he have the look of sardonic pleasure. Instead, it was replaced with the strict straight face of command.
K. L. Henson: Explosion, this Sunday. Andre joins Grayson. No exceptions.
[ ] Stop
