Post by warstein on Oct 29, 2021 12:29:41 GMT -5
The Faceless man’s fingers run over the top of the VHS tapes along the shelf. Drumming them to a silent beat in his head, he stops suddenly on a blank tape case.
Pulling gently at the top corner and exposing the black tape, with a handwritten label on the side. Barely legible and written in red the tape reads.
“ThE pUrGe 1 ½”
It didn’t take long for the man to place the tape inside of the player. The old school sounds of mechanical ingenuity of the late 80’s fills the room. The screen on the television goes from white noise static to black for a moment, before the opening credits begin.
The tape ejects from the VCR, as the Faceless man reaches for it. He looks at the tape for a second before haphazardly tossing it to the ground.
Some slight noises are heard that cause the Faceless man to pause for a moment before turning his attention to the wall of VHS tapes and running his hand over them once more.
Pulling gently at the top corner and exposing the black tape, with a handwritten label on the side. Barely legible and written in red the tape reads.
“ThE pUrGe 1 ½”
It didn’t take long for the man to place the tape inside of the player. The old school sounds of mechanical ingenuity of the late 80’s fills the room. The screen on the television goes from white noise static to black for a moment, before the opening credits begin.
 The scene opens up deep in the heart of suburbia as the sun is all but set below the horizon. All the lawns manicured perfectly, each house with a two car garage and toys strewn about the yards. However an eerie feeling has fallen on this little slice of the American Dream. Every house has their windows boarded up and no light is escaping from any orifice. Sitting at the end of the block a small group of five are gathered. Four of them sit on the curb, while one of them anxiously paces back and forth. Constantly checking his watch. Tyrant: Come on, come on, come on…. The man with a battered and bloodied Burger King mask mutters aloud for everyone to hear. Traveler: Sit down and relax. All this pacing back and forth isn’t going to make the clock tick faster. A womanly voice expresses her displeasure of the current situation. The mask over her face is a purple mask with flickering LED’s. Goat: You know I’m in charge of this operation right? A studly man stands up, exposing his glorious abs to the world. He adjusts the goat mask covering his face and puts a hand on the Tyrant’s shoulder. Goat: I know that you’ve been looking forward to this for a while now, what’s a few more minutes? Tyrant: The sooner this is all over, the sooner we can get back to reality without their bumbling asses. Goat: Yeah that’s what you’re looking forward to… Tyrant: Maybe a slight bit of revenge as well. Goat: There he is. The tyrant shakes his head as a man stands up wearing a clean Burger King mask. King: I don’t get why there are two of us wearing the same mask. Tyrant: Uhh they aren’t the same. Mine is clearly war torn and yours looks like we just picked it up from party city. Goat: That’s exactly what we did. Tyrant: Well he didn’t need to know that. King: Still, seems, I dunno….. odd. Tyrant:Seems like you need a tall glass of shut the hell up juice! The two Kings get face to face but then are both distracted by the fifth member of their little rogues gallery. Another woman wearing a Jack In The Box head stumbles as she stands up from the curb. Miss-Fit: No one told me the masks had to be closer to form fitting. I’m probably not even going to fit through the door. Goat: You’ll fit… Tyrant: Yeah, just duck down a lil’ bit. The Tyrant and Goat both pantomime ducking. Miss-Fit does just that and slightly loses her balance before the King catches her. King: Maybe work on your balance a little bit beforehand, yeah? The oversized mask bobs back and forth as the woman begins to brush herself off in an attempt to dismiss the fact that she partly embarrassed herself. The Tyrant looks over towards the Goat. Tyrant: This is what you’ve assembled? Goat: I mean… yeah. Tyrant: The Traveler I get, but those two…. He points towards the King and then Miss-Fit. Goat: They could easily say the same thing about you. Taken aback, the Tyrant tilts his head and then shakes it. Tyrant: What could they say about me? That for the better part of two years I’ve barely lost? Or how about the fact that the Traveler, Yourself and I, work better than a college kid with ADHD and a handful of Ritalin? Or…. Goat: Yes we get it, you’re great. We should all bow down and worship the ground you walk on. Tyrant: Could you? Goat: It was an euphemism. Miss-Fit: You-fa what? Tyrant: My point. Goat: Okay, so this maybe isn’t her best showing. Do you really think I’d pick some people that couldn’t handle what needed to be done? Tyrant: It’s starting to worry me a bit. Goat: Fine. Miss-Fit, show him. She nods quickly and turns around. Digging into a bag for a beat longer than expected. She spins around and is all of a sudden brandishing a large machete. It’s clearly been used as iron deposits have tinted the blade and the handle is worn. Miss-Fit: Is this what you’re looking for? Goat: Yup. Tyrant: That’ll do. What about him? The Tyrant points towards the King. He looks at the Goat who just nods. With a quick flick of his wrists, two blades extend from them. Tyrant: DUDE ASSASSIN’S CREED IS MY JAM! Goat: Knew you’d like that one. Tyrant: Okay. So does everyone have their targets? The four of them look at each other and then in unison look at the Tyrant. Group: No. Tyrant: (Sighs) Fine. The Tyrant walks to the curb and picks up a backpack. He pulls out a few manila folders and hands one to each of them, keeping one for himself. Tyrant: In these folders are everyone expected to be inside the house. These are the targets, anyone else in the house is a bad case of, the wrong place wrong time, if we get them, okay. If we don’t, don’t worry about it. Each of them open their folders and begin to thumb through them. Miss-Fit: Uhh I don’t know who this guy is. Tyrant: Oh that’s Oscar the Grouch in a skeleton costume. Miss-Fit: Uhh— What? Tyrant: It’s because he’s garbage. The kid is going to spout off at the mouth as if his opinion means anything. I’m fairly certain he’s only there because it was some sort of Make-A-Wish situation. The guy trained under the biggest bitch on the planet in Knox. That right there tells us that he can’t separate fact from fiction. If he thinks that Knox is anything special, wait until he steps face to face with the Goat and the rest of us. Each of us with our own abilities and skill sets. What he’s about to witness is the Bonus Level, and there are no more level ups to be had. King: Yeah, sure whatever, what about this guy? Tyrant: Oh you got Geriatric Salt Bae. I wouldn’t worry too much about him. Pretty sure the guy had like nine days to live. Like why I don’t get about this fucking guy, right, is he claims to be a journeyman of the industry and somehow still brags about having won a Rising Star Title in CGW. It doesn’t make sense. If he’s soooo good at this maybe they wouldn’t be vying for rookie titles meant to push the younger generation forward. It’s more akin to a setting sun and he’s trying so desperately to hold on for just a bit longer. Like when I was writing that dossier, how many times is this guy going to say ‘Striving for greatness but never attaining it’, like keep that shit to yourself. This whole industry is about doing that and if you fail, not acknowledging it at all. Should be a quick neck slice and we are out for IHOP. The Goat smacks his folder at me. Goat: Why did I get him? Boat Shoes? Tyrant: It was almost the Cocky Cuck but I thought it was readily apparent. Pretty boy, pretty boy. Daddy Issues, Daddy Issues. Sexual tension between the two of you… Miss-Fit: It’s not just them too ya know. Tyrant: Now isn’t the time. You’ve got to be careful with him. He’s quite accomplished for such a short amount of time in the industry. It’s not a wonder why he was chosen as the replacement. He’s used to coming in second to me, especially when it comes to his lady friends. You should be okay dealing with him. I’m fairly certain he’s going to be more concerned with Keeper of The Keys, so take him out quickly, and Traveler when he asks for a ride home… Traveler: Take him where he needs to go? Tyrant: No. Say you’re going to help him, and then ditch him. Traveler: That’s not nice. Tyrant: Last name Fuck, first name Idontgivea. Which brings me to your file. Same thing with him. Don’t take him anywhere either. Traveler: But… Tyrant: No. Fuck niceties. The guy treats substance abuse as if it was a joke, seems like a super likable guy if you ask me. I’ve been through that and this fucking asshole makes me fucking sick. As if he’s immune to laws. It’s beyond unbelievable that he hasn’t been arrested, either that or he’s a fucking snitch and either way I wouldn’t want to work for any company he touches. So that means UGWC is out and OC—- oh right. Guess that was a one shot, one kill scenario, huh? The four of them are clearly getting tired of The Tyrant rambling on. Miss-Fit: Wait, why do you get… Tyrant: The False Goddess? Goat: Yeah, shouldn’t that be anyone other than you? Tyrant: No. Think about it for just a second. When it comes to her we all know what to expect. We all know that once the lights shine the brightest, she will wilt. It’s her modus operandi, and who else causes her to do that? Who out of everyone here, stood across from her and didn’t blink. We were together, and I still kicked her fucking head off. Twice. She just wants the spotlight on her, and I’m more than willing to turn that light out without a single worry. She’ll spout off at the mouth on Twitter when it’s all done, acting like a petulant child who didn’t get their way… guess she attracts people like that. Plus she has to deal with the Strader issue and we all know what that’s like. One day everything is good, the next a flurry of tweets apologizing for their behavior. Rinse and repeat.. Goat: Yeah apparently they are done now. Traveler: Yeah Kaput. Tyrant: Whatever. So she doesn’t have that issue and can be focused. I can and will still put her down like the false idol she really is. She is just a scared little girl, who doesn’t know how to deal with real hardships. She always needs someone to hold her hand, and this is no different. I’ll do what needs to be done. Bet on that. King: Doesn’t explain why you got the only… Tyrant: Why I get the only one with a dick? It’s a whole team of pussies. There isn’t just one. There’s a group of them parading around as if they were badasses and need to be taken seriously. Shoes, is only there because he wants to see some bikinis. Salt Bae is there because he heard the ocean air is good for his arthritis. Oscar is there because The Goddess doesn’t have any other friends so she literally searched the bottom of the garbage can. And the other one was only there so she could angle her way into OCW. Now that that is gone, she’s going to discard him like a used condom. And she’s only there because she was able to get her face on a marquee. That’s it. No drive. No care. Nothing but the blind ambition of the masses that she covets so much. The Tyrant pauses for a second when the King interrupts. King: What are you doing? Tyrant: What do you mean? King: This whole monologue. It seems out of place right here. Miss-Fit: Yeah, I’m going to have to agree with BK Lounge over here. Tyrant: It’s a villain's monologue. It happens all the time in times like these. Traveler: Wait. Hold on a second. Tyrant: What now? Traveler: Are we the baddies? Before the Tyrant could answer Miss-Fit had begun white girl twerking. Miss-Fit: Look, I’ve been practicing for the day someone called me a baddie… Tyrant: Knock it off. It’s not that meaning and you need more practice. It’s just that yes, we are the bad guys and gals in all of this. You’re either with this plan, or you’re not. As soon as the Tyrant finishes a loud air horn goes off, enveloping the area with the annoying sound. The cackling of a voice can be heard. PA Voice: The beginning of the Purge has commenced. For the next 24 Hours there are no laws. The five people look at each other and nod. Goat: Time to get to work. None of them decide to leave. The plan is set in stone now as the group slowly walks up the block and approaches the large house at the end of the block. The King and Goat break off and head towards the garage on the left side, while the Traveler and Miss-Fit head to the right towards the backyard. The Tyrant calmly adjusts his shirt and walks slowly up to the door. His hand quivers slightly as it hangs in the air. Dropping his hand to his side, as he turns his back to the door. He takes a deep breath and takes his mask off and tosses it to the ground. Turning around Shawn cracks his neck and knocks on the door. There was no answer at first, then a small blinking red light caught his attention. Shawn smiles widely and waves at the camera. Shawn: HONEY……I’M HOOOOOMMMMMME. Still met with silence. Shawn: It’s okay. Don’t answer. This door will open one way or another. You’re going to watch as we, yes I said we, slaughter you and all your little friends. And you’re going to watch. And then you're going to watch as I take your breath away. Literally. The camera’s light stops blinking. Shawn: There it is. Step one done. Now listen closely, Goddess… do you hear that? That’s the walls of your pathetic kingdom crumbling down around you. Try as you might to protect yourself with people you thought could deal with us… Off in the distance the sound of glass shattering, quickly followed by screams. Shawn: But alas you were wrong. Remember dear, Shawn Is Always Right. So here’s what is going to happen next. One way or another, the only way out is through this door. After a few moments, the door handle begins to rattle. Shawn takes a step back and the second there was a slight opening, he boots the door wide open. Knocking back the Goddess to the ground. Shawn: I mistimed my quip, but that’s okay, I think it still landed. Didn’t you learn anything from all the horror movies we watched together? Never open the door for the bad guy. Goddess: …. Shawn: Shhh, shhh, shhh. Don’t ruin this by opening your vitriolic mouth. No need for your one liners now. It’s all but over now. Just embrace it all. Soon you’ll see your mom again. Maybe you’ll see Zeus. As if on cue, The King walks into the foyer, shirt covered in blood. The Goat walks in holding a severed leg with a boat shoe on. The Traveler and Miss-Fit waltz in barely distressed at all. A few smatterings of blood droplets on their clothing. Miss-Fit: Where’d your mask go? Shawn: Don’t need it anymore. She will see who did this. Shawn holds his hand out as Miss-Fit passes along the machete. Blood drips from the hilt as he wipes it off on his shirt. He brandishes the blade above his head. Shawn: I wish I could say I feel bad…. With all of his strength he swings the blade down. Connecting with the top of the Goddess’ skull, as her body falls limp. The blood begins to pool as he swings again. Then again. Until Shawn is covered in blood. Shawn: But you could’ve asked me. One final blow and Shawn drops the blade to the ground. He runs his hand across his face. Without saying a word he turns and walks out of the house. The four others follow behind him. They don’t say a single word, well that is until. Miss-Fit: So what’s next y’all? The group stops in the middle of the street and all turn their attention to Miss-Fit. No one says anything, until the Goat speaks. Goat: Cruise? He shrugs and then elbows the Traveler, who in turn looks at Miss-Fit, who then nods to the King, who looks at Shawn. Who just sighs and places his fingers on the bridge of his nose. Shawn: Fine. But it better last less than nine days. There was a slight chuckle from them as they continued to walk down the street as the credits begin to roll, and eventually the screen turns to static. |
The tape ejects from the VCR, as the Faceless man reaches for it. He looks at the tape for a second before haphazardly tossing it to the ground.
Some slight noises are heard that cause the Faceless man to pause for a moment before turning his attention to the wall of VHS tapes and running his hand over them once more.
