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LJ Havok · (03-24-2017)

Fear of God is a combination of awe, fear that one may have in the presence of an angel, deep reverence, honor, and respect. And I need them to fear me. I am what is. I am a God of men. But I'm not the hero of this story.

Scene opens with LJ Havok sitting at his desk with his feet propped up, smoking a cigar.

It had been ages since I stepped foot in a wrestling ring, much less actively competing and winning. The last time I was on XWF programming I lost to Drew Archyle.. Which I should have expected. Despite who I am, the ring rust was a very real problem. This body was out of shape... I was out of shape.

I was so embarrassed that I packed my bags and headed back to music city.

He blows a smoke ring. He sets up and puts the cigar in the ash tray on the desk. Havok then stands up and straightens his italian suit and fixes his tie.

It wasn't time.

It wasn't time to unleash a plague upon the XWF. It wasn't time to lead all the sheep into a new world. So I never came back. And do you want to know what I did when I went back to Tennessee? I left almost immediately, and I continued to do what I've always done. Talent scout. Granted I usually do this for my record label with musicians. I was looking for people to take part in my cause... and my cause is no longer of a change or a revolution that I echoed for years and was never heard but of the end of all things.

I have these things in order, and I have an army. The question is: when do I return to the kingdom that was never truly mine? Well I've been informed via my office that Vincent Lane has me scheduled for April 1st at Lethal Lottery for The Hart Championship.

It has a certain flair about it. The fact that I'm put into the into a four way match, fifth on the card.. despite the randomness of it all.. proves that Lane at least knows what he's doing.. kind of.

He laughs to himself as he begins walking around the office at a slow pace.

LJ Havok draws. A name from the past will always put butts in the seats. They remember the wars I had with guys like John Austin and Michael McBride.

They remember the failed Extreme Revolution, which was all thanks to Troy Turner, and the absent mindedness of Cam Lang. Plus the fact that Peter Gilmour had an eating disorder back then and wouldn't stop stuffing his face for five minutes for us to accomplish anything..But truly the main person I blame for that diabical is myself. LJ Havok. "The Savior" What the hell was that? Did I have a concussion? I was preaching, trying to convert people into some phoney made up bullshit. I claimed to be a doorway to God, while also claiming to enjoy conversations with Lucifer. I was a walking contradiction, and I really should have been in therapy. The XWF should have sent me packing. My violent outbursts were bad..

I put cigarettes out on the carpet in the backstage area everyday...Seriously though, the carpets looked like shit. And the management here never gave a fuck. And once I somehow ended up with

's credit card. The man was sick, and I took advantage of it. And I'm pretty sure I recieved a title shot due to that.

Havok chuckles as he walks up to the window and stares out into the city from the fourth floor. And then he turns around.

When I went home the first time I got help. Medical help due to all that the Congregation had done to me..My father got me gop of the line psychiatric help. Now I only have certain moments of the day where I can see into another realm. That other realm, everyone I loved or cared about died or left... I had Andre Chambers murdered. I murdered a guy in Mississippi. And I started dragging my buddy Chris Mancini down with me.

But in this realm none of that happened. As soon as I peer into that window it all comes flooding back, but then I forget it all. I attribute that to the medications and possibly my drinking problems. I spend nights lying awake because I don't want to dream. I don't want to go back there.

That's why I came back. I need a change of focus. And my focus right now is procure some gold. And I don't care what poor bastard has to take the pinfall or submission from "The Chosen One". Whether it be Robert "Semi" Main, the freak with the mask Mister Tidbitty, or our "great" champion Robbie Bourbon.

Havok chuckles.

Main can write me off just another stepping stone on his way to the top, but that line of thinking wil fail him just like it's failed countless others. He thinks he's the Alpha and Omega. I could possibly see that, with all due respect. But I'm the Omega. And every beginning needs an end. And I'm going to put him and the other two out of their misery.

Misery. Something I'm sure something someone such as Mister Tidbits understands.

Havok walks around his office. The camera pans into the corner where a statue of Doink the Clown is standing in the corner. Havok pops his head back into the frame.

That send you into a rage?! Fear begets rage, my friend. You, without a doubt, are a very disturbed person. Coulrophobia is a very real thing. You may need even more psychiatric help then even myself.

Havok lets an evil grin emerge from corner to corner of his face.

The one thing you despise has turned you into what you despise. You are a clown by all definitions of the word. Do you really think that we are scared of you? Nah. I've danced with devils man. I've stood toe to toe with a freak named Glisten. And I have survived a beating by Sebastian Duke. YOU are MY stepping stone. I will behead the monster.

Though stature-wise neither of the two I just mentioned are as menacing as Robbie Bourbon are they?

No. They aren't. Just by size alone. Bourbon should make me terrified for Lethal Lottery. Hot headed big dude with a little ginger flavor. He's a giant man. And due to him being a former United States President, I should have a little bit of respect. And If there's no respect, then there should be fear right?

No.. Because as I mentioned before I am too damn good to be outshined or even beaten by these...ummm clowns. I'm a different person than I was when I left. You will all find that out soon enough.

This is the beginning of the end.

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