Post by weareanarchy on Oct 3, 2016 22:45:41 GMT -5
I stand on the dusty floorboards of a disused warehouse on the outskirts of the Forbes Industrial Park in Topeka, Kansas. I pace back and forth as I talk to the figure sitting in the chair.
LUNACY: My mind is racing, unquiet, humming like a hive of bees, click-clacking like a nest of scorpions. It cannot rest, it will not rest. You see, as I look around me in PCW the cracks are so apparent. It’s like a very old building and I am the only one who can see it rotting, eroding and ready to come crashing to the ground. As I look around me, I am confounded by questions of every kind.
The woman, a blonde, though her hair is so covered in dirt and cobwebs it’s hard to tell that anymore, tries to speak but the words don’t get past the gag in her mouth. I look over at her and see her torn dress, smell her stink.
LUNACY: I know this is hard for you, Sarah, but frankly you are going to be with us for a while, better make the most of the experience. Now, as I was saying, as I look around the PCW all I can see is cracks. It is falling apart…and not in a good way. Take Andy D for example. Andy is a hero, a guy who has to do right…but for all his courage he lacks strength and that is going to be a bad thing for him at the Deadly Rumble because as he pits himself against us…he will find himself overwhelmed, his back broken. He cannot stop us or beat us. Then there was whoever in the front office decided it was a good idea for us to face someone for the Undersea Title. They are the ones in charge! They can’t even control how they are perceived, whether we follow the path of light or the path of darkness! Then there was a High Tide, a man who schemed and attempted to defeat me thinking that his idle threats somehow were somehow going to be effective against a guy who has been tortured by terrorists in the Middle East.!
The psychologist Sarah Essen attempts to scream again, but it comes out as more of a strangled grunt. It draws me from my reverie and I look up to see that Brother Maylock has walked into the room and he is carrying a massive jar full of several hundred tiny crawling things. She is screaming at Brother Maylock.
BROTHER MAYLOCK: You going to be done soon, Lunacy?
LUNACY: Probably, can I ask why?
BROTHER MAYLOCK: Yeah, I just made Jackdaw collect all these fire ants for me, I just want to pour them on top of her and listen to her scream.
Sarah tries to scream again through the gag.
LUNACY: You are an artist, Brother Maylock, yeah, I will let you know when I am done, okay?
He flashes me a thumbs up and wanders out of the room, whistling to himself as he carries the jar of fire ants. I turn back to Sarah and see her squirming against her bonds.
LUNACY: How many times do I have to tell you, the more you struggle the more you are just going to get rope burns on your wrists and ankles. Now, do please SHUT YOUR WHORE MOUTH and sit still so we can finish our conversation. How are you ever supposed to contract a good case of Stockholm Syndrome if you don’t just relax and sort of let it all wash over you.
Sarah struggles some more, making meaningless gibberish come out from around her gag.
LUNACY: How dare you! What do you mean Brother Maylock isn’t an artist? He absolutely is. You should have seen this girl he carved up back in London, God, it was a thing of beauty. She was on her knees, hands held together in prayer, of course, he’d removed all her fingers, but that just made her look like her hands were folded in prayer. He’d also removed her tongue, nose and eyes…and for that matter most of her face, but he put her in a nun’s habit.
Sarah struggles and squirms some more.
LUNACY: Well, I don’t know where he got the nun’s habit from! Why not just ask him when he’s in here later covering you in fire ants! Anyway, I took a picture. You should see it!
I pull a smart phone from my jacket pocket and begin to flip through the photos in it. Then I find the one I want and show it to Sarah.
LUNACY: See, there it is. I tell you, that boy is a genius.
Sarah’s eyes go wide as she sees the photo, she is trying to keep from throwing up with the gag in her mouth and attempting to scream at the same time. I continue to hold the phone in front of her face. I stare off into the distance as i speak, very carefully about not noticing her reaction to the picture.
LUNACY: That’s the thing about Brother Maylock, he is an artist…he just uses a controversial medium…the human body. What sculptors do with stone and painters do with a canvas and brush, he works in flesh, blood and bone…and he’s brilliant at it. And I discovered him, I tell you something, Sarah, no matter how this wrestling thing works out, that is always going to be something I am proud of. But you know what, you have missed the point. The point is there really is no one in PCW that poses a threat to us. Seromine is an ally at least in spirit and while we both see different truths we at least agree that the truth MUST be told. Furthermore, if it served his purpose to win the rumble, we would step aside…the only reason WE want to win it is to use it to pound another nail into the PCW coffin.
I turn back to look at her and see that she is fighting to keep her gorge down, her eyes are wide open, massively open as she tries desperately to keep from throwing up.
LUNACY: In general, I would avoid throwing up with a gag in your mouth, Sarah. Trust me on this, I know it seems like fun, but burning your vocal cords with stomach acid and choking on your own vomit is not nearly as much fun as it seems.
Sarah manages to get her gag reflex under control and I kneel down and brush her dirty hair out of her face.
LUNACY: You know, Sarah, you are a very lucky lady. Your sacrifice is an education to folks in PCW. I mean people look at how we kidnapped you and realize that if we can get to someone like you; one of the pre-eminent psychologists in the country, we can get to anybody. And if we can get to anybody, then no one is safe. If no one is safe, that means that there is no such thing as control because you can only have safety if you are in control of a given situation. Thus, just by looking at the example that you being here with us sets, people all over the world are realizing that Control is a lie. I tell you, Sarah, you can really be proud of what you are accomplishing in your life right now. And I for one, am proud of this sacrifice you are making. But to get back on topic…Grimm, Murdoc, Kelli they all ignore me…and when you ignore a fire burning in your kitchen, it’s a bit late to start fighting it once it enters your living room. The point is…PCW is woefully unprepared for the pain we are bringing…and there is no one in the Deadly Rumble who is a threat to us. So, all I can say is…
I am interrupted by Brother Maylock’s voice. Maylock is standing in the doorway once more.
BROTHER MAYLOCK: Are you just going to hog up all her time or what? I want to do this fire ant thing and Jackdaw has his own ideas.
I nod to Brother Maylock.
LUNACY: Sorry, Brother, I got carried away with my conversation.
I waggle my fingers in Sarah’s face.
LUNACY: Toodles!
I walk away as Brother Maylock enters the room with his giant jar full of fire ants. As he approaches Sarah one thought keeps repeating over and over in my head, ‘Burn, baby, burn.’
LUNACY: My mind is racing, unquiet, humming like a hive of bees, click-clacking like a nest of scorpions. It cannot rest, it will not rest. You see, as I look around me in PCW the cracks are so apparent. It’s like a very old building and I am the only one who can see it rotting, eroding and ready to come crashing to the ground. As I look around me, I am confounded by questions of every kind.
The woman, a blonde, though her hair is so covered in dirt and cobwebs it’s hard to tell that anymore, tries to speak but the words don’t get past the gag in her mouth. I look over at her and see her torn dress, smell her stink.
LUNACY: I know this is hard for you, Sarah, but frankly you are going to be with us for a while, better make the most of the experience. Now, as I was saying, as I look around the PCW all I can see is cracks. It is falling apart…and not in a good way. Take Andy D for example. Andy is a hero, a guy who has to do right…but for all his courage he lacks strength and that is going to be a bad thing for him at the Deadly Rumble because as he pits himself against us…he will find himself overwhelmed, his back broken. He cannot stop us or beat us. Then there was whoever in the front office decided it was a good idea for us to face someone for the Undersea Title. They are the ones in charge! They can’t even control how they are perceived, whether we follow the path of light or the path of darkness! Then there was a High Tide, a man who schemed and attempted to defeat me thinking that his idle threats somehow were somehow going to be effective against a guy who has been tortured by terrorists in the Middle East.!
The psychologist Sarah Essen attempts to scream again, but it comes out as more of a strangled grunt. It draws me from my reverie and I look up to see that Brother Maylock has walked into the room and he is carrying a massive jar full of several hundred tiny crawling things. She is screaming at Brother Maylock.
BROTHER MAYLOCK: You going to be done soon, Lunacy?
LUNACY: Probably, can I ask why?
BROTHER MAYLOCK: Yeah, I just made Jackdaw collect all these fire ants for me, I just want to pour them on top of her and listen to her scream.
Sarah tries to scream again through the gag.
LUNACY: You are an artist, Brother Maylock, yeah, I will let you know when I am done, okay?
He flashes me a thumbs up and wanders out of the room, whistling to himself as he carries the jar of fire ants. I turn back to Sarah and see her squirming against her bonds.
LUNACY: How many times do I have to tell you, the more you struggle the more you are just going to get rope burns on your wrists and ankles. Now, do please SHUT YOUR WHORE MOUTH and sit still so we can finish our conversation. How are you ever supposed to contract a good case of Stockholm Syndrome if you don’t just relax and sort of let it all wash over you.
Sarah struggles some more, making meaningless gibberish come out from around her gag.
LUNACY: How dare you! What do you mean Brother Maylock isn’t an artist? He absolutely is. You should have seen this girl he carved up back in London, God, it was a thing of beauty. She was on her knees, hands held together in prayer, of course, he’d removed all her fingers, but that just made her look like her hands were folded in prayer. He’d also removed her tongue, nose and eyes…and for that matter most of her face, but he put her in a nun’s habit.
Sarah struggles and squirms some more.
LUNACY: Well, I don’t know where he got the nun’s habit from! Why not just ask him when he’s in here later covering you in fire ants! Anyway, I took a picture. You should see it!
I pull a smart phone from my jacket pocket and begin to flip through the photos in it. Then I find the one I want and show it to Sarah.
LUNACY: See, there it is. I tell you, that boy is a genius.
Sarah’s eyes go wide as she sees the photo, she is trying to keep from throwing up with the gag in her mouth and attempting to scream at the same time. I continue to hold the phone in front of her face. I stare off into the distance as i speak, very carefully about not noticing her reaction to the picture.
LUNACY: That’s the thing about Brother Maylock, he is an artist…he just uses a controversial medium…the human body. What sculptors do with stone and painters do with a canvas and brush, he works in flesh, blood and bone…and he’s brilliant at it. And I discovered him, I tell you something, Sarah, no matter how this wrestling thing works out, that is always going to be something I am proud of. But you know what, you have missed the point. The point is there really is no one in PCW that poses a threat to us. Seromine is an ally at least in spirit and while we both see different truths we at least agree that the truth MUST be told. Furthermore, if it served his purpose to win the rumble, we would step aside…the only reason WE want to win it is to use it to pound another nail into the PCW coffin.
I turn back to look at her and see that she is fighting to keep her gorge down, her eyes are wide open, massively open as she tries desperately to keep from throwing up.
LUNACY: In general, I would avoid throwing up with a gag in your mouth, Sarah. Trust me on this, I know it seems like fun, but burning your vocal cords with stomach acid and choking on your own vomit is not nearly as much fun as it seems.
Sarah manages to get her gag reflex under control and I kneel down and brush her dirty hair out of her face.
LUNACY: You know, Sarah, you are a very lucky lady. Your sacrifice is an education to folks in PCW. I mean people look at how we kidnapped you and realize that if we can get to someone like you; one of the pre-eminent psychologists in the country, we can get to anybody. And if we can get to anybody, then no one is safe. If no one is safe, that means that there is no such thing as control because you can only have safety if you are in control of a given situation. Thus, just by looking at the example that you being here with us sets, people all over the world are realizing that Control is a lie. I tell you, Sarah, you can really be proud of what you are accomplishing in your life right now. And I for one, am proud of this sacrifice you are making. But to get back on topic…Grimm, Murdoc, Kelli they all ignore me…and when you ignore a fire burning in your kitchen, it’s a bit late to start fighting it once it enters your living room. The point is…PCW is woefully unprepared for the pain we are bringing…and there is no one in the Deadly Rumble who is a threat to us. So, all I can say is…
I am interrupted by Brother Maylock’s voice. Maylock is standing in the doorway once more.
BROTHER MAYLOCK: Are you just going to hog up all her time or what? I want to do this fire ant thing and Jackdaw has his own ideas.
I nod to Brother Maylock.
LUNACY: Sorry, Brother, I got carried away with my conversation.
I waggle my fingers in Sarah’s face.
LUNACY: Toodles!
I walk away as Brother Maylock enters the room with his giant jar full of fire ants. As he approaches Sarah one thought keeps repeating over and over in my head, ‘Burn, baby, burn.’