Please, Don’t do this.

[Sam]

Saturday, March 24th, 11:30pm.

Jimmy Havoc and Braun Strowman were sitting in a bar in New Orleans, trying not to get noticed. This wasn’t easy for a man of Braun’s stature, so the Bastard and the Beast had chosen the roughest looking bar they could find. No one was paying them any attention; this was the kind of bar where everyone kept to themselves. For Jimmy and Braun, it was perfect. Despite his three Slammy wins, Havoc was frustrated.

Jimmy Havoc: Man, I miss being a dick. Don’t get me wrong, cheers are great but. There’s nothing more satisfying than being told to go fuck myself by some ugly loser. Face of the Year though, it’s gotta be good for something.

Braun smirked.

Braun Strowman: The fans might cheer you, but you’re still a dick.

Jimmy Havoc: Okay asshole. Let’s cut the shit. I wanna run heel again. What do you think?

Braun nodded.

Braun Strowman: Feels like you’re heading that way anyway. And despite our brief run, we still won Tag Team of the Year. I say let’s do it. Let’s wreak Havoc on EBWF… pun intended.

Jimmy Havoc: I mean right? Our chemistry is obvious. What gimmick though? I’m worried the old hack and slash serial killer shit is abit too gimmicky nowadays, don’t you think?

Braun shrugged.

Braun Strowman: Why not just… be yourself. You feel frustrated, right? Think about what’s frustrating you, and turn that up to 11. Tell everyone what you really think.

Jimmy Havoc: Interesting. So I go out there, say I hate AJ Styles very being and everyone jumps on board? Wes is cool enough to allow it but the board man, the networks. What about the gear? Do I use the mask again? I don’t even know where the hell that thing is!

Braun reached into his picked, pulled out a mask, and threw it across the table.

Braun Strowman: I kept it, in case you ever needed it. Wear it, don’t wear it… the choice is yours. What matters is what’s behind the mask.

Jimmy Havoc: So what now? We’re the gothic Edge and Christian, Deadpool 4th Wall breaking duo? Cos if so, Do I get to say “cue the montage” and then it splits into a montage of us?

Braun laughed and shook his head.

Braun Strowman: You’re overthinking this, Jimmy. The real mask isn’t the one in front of you, it’s the mask you’ve been wearing for the past 12 months. Trying to be “the good guy”. You’re not a good guy. You’re a bastard. Embrace that. Speak your mind, do what you want to do. We were unstoppable before. We can be again. It’s going to be fun.

Jimmy Havoc: You know what, you’re right.

Jimmy downed his drink.

Jimmy Havoc: Meet me at the arena in 25 minutes and bring some camera person. I’ve got an idea for a promo. CUE THE MONTAGE!

Everyone in the bar looked at Havoc like he was an idiot.

Jimmy Havoc: Fuck. Arena. 25 Minutes. Okay?

Braun Strowman: Sure. Poor Stan. He’s probably asleep by now… I’ll wake him up.

Jimmy made his way out of the bar and sharply turned back, grabbing the mask off the table and downing Braun’s drink.

Jimmy Havoc: Sorry. Thirsty.

Strowman went to grab Havoc but he narrowly avoided Braun’s huge paw.

Mercedes-Benz Superdome - 12:05am.

The scene opens up on Braun making his way into the stage, with a slow cameraman behind him.

Stan: Why the hell did you bring me here? I have to be up in 5 hours for show prep! It’s Wrestlemania day!

Braun Strowman: You’re about to film an exclusive for the main event of Wrestlemania. That’s worth staying up for, right?

Stan: Please tell me it’s for Wes. I thought Havoc was a good guy now, I’ve finally got the smell of dead bodies and burnt remains out of my nostrils. It only took 3,674 showers but I finally got there.

Braun Strowman: It’s not Wes, but there won’t be any dead bodies. At least… I don’t think there will be…

Stan groaned as Jimmy Havoc arrived.

Jimmy Havoc: Stan, Stan, Stan, Stan. Don’t worry, the butchers shop wasn’t open this time of night. Trust me...I tried them all. No, but I need this. I’ve had a revelation, all thanks to that big bearded fucker! So, Stan, you think you could get up to the production office and get the Hardcam, Cameras 1 and 2 going?

Stan groaned again.

Jimmy Havoc: Please.

Stans eyes widened.

Stan: Did you just say please? Sure Jimmy, I’ll do it. Give me 5 minutes.

Stan went to the back and made his way to the production office leaving Braun and Havoc. Havoc began walking to the ring and Braun followed.

Jimmy Havoc: Huge ramp huh, they getting one of them oversized segways for you?

Braun Strowman: Probably not. I’m not booked, remember? You want my help, bring Ikeda up the ramp. I don’t feel like running.

Jimmy Havoc: Your banned remember. Plus, aren’t they doing a bullshit Battle Royale this year for you to be big in? Shame. I feel guilty for you not being booked, I’m sorry man. If we stayed together we’d be dominating it...Hey, how about we do another entrance like last year. Me on your shoulders again?!

Braun Strowman: I mean that’s fine but, don’t you want to do something different? I’m still intrigued to see what this big idea of yours is.

Jimmy Havoc: I mean yeah. Different. I just wanna do the comfortable I suppose, maybe I shouldn’t. I don’t know.

The lights in the arena flashed twice.

Braun Strowman: That’s Stan. He’s ready.

Jimmy Havoc: Okay. Wish me luck.

Braun Strowman: You don’t need luck. Just be yourself.

Jimmy got up on the apron and stood in the ring. The lights were dimmed on the seats and the single spotlight was on Havoc. He took a microphone out of his pocket and raise it to his mouth.

Jimmy Havoc: My Name is Jimmy Havoc. I am the self proclaimed King of the Goths, Master of the Deathmatch, The fastest rising superstar and your EBWF General Manager.

Jimmy sighed.

Jimmy Havoc: But maybe not for long. I’ll admit something to all the people here right now, I’m worried. Ikeda embarrassed me on Warfare and I fucking deserved it, who exactly do I think I am? Right now I’m the guy begging everyone here for their judgement, tell me how I’m doing. Cheer for me, tell me I’m fucking pretty.

Jimmy sat down.

Jimmy Havoc: There’s one big problem though.

The lights on the seats were raised revealing there to be no-one.

Jimmy Havoc: The only person I should be admitting that stuff to is right here in this ring, me! I used to not care what anyone though, lived in the moment and did what I want. Why am I now asking for approval at every turn? Why?

Jimmy stopped for a minute.

Jimmy Havoc: Because right now I’m not Jimmy Havoc. I’m a bitch who needs people to care about him, but I know how to fix that.

Jimmy stood up and produced his old half-mask from his pocket.

Jimmy Havoc: This was given to me by an old friend who wanted me to find myself. For that, I thank him.

Jimmy dropped the mic and stood with the mask outwards. He waited for a second and took a breath, finally placing the mask on his face. Again, he took a few seconds to compose himself and slowly brought his head upwards towards the camera.

Jimmy Havoc: Did you miss me?

The camera flashed black and white, rapidly changing between different versions of Havoc, From face to heel over the years. Finally settling on one which was covered in blood.

Jimmy Havoc: Now I’ve heard that Wes Ikeda thinks he can beat me at Wrestlemania in a fucking deathmatch? Apparently I have to beat him in order to call myself the king? I’m sorry mate, my scars speak for themselves. Yours had time to heal while mine are still fresh, I remember every single one of them whilst you don’t even remember half your roster. Braun Strowman’s not on card and why is that? Are you so fucking stupid that your most over Big Man in years isn’t even on Mania squashing some little shit like Scurll?

Jimmy kicked the ropes.

Jimmy Havoc: It all comes down to Mania though. The Main Event of Wrestlemania. Wes has dusted off his boots to face me and I’m honoured, I truly am. You’ve picked me to go “Hey Guys, remember me? Don’t worry, I’m just facing the hottest guy in the company so I’m relevant again.” If you were here you’d have some remark about how your always relevant at WESlemania. The Rebel Son returns once more like the Phoenix fables of old, to burn bright once more. Well I’ve got news for you Wes, I’m planning to put that flame out. You should’ve picked PJ Black or Punk and worked safe, preserve your aging self. You’ll end up like Vince, an old decrepit man desperate for the glory, this deathmatch will not be safe because it can’t be. You will hurt, you will bruise and you will bleed. I promise you, you won’t be returning for another 2 years win or lose because you won’t be able to. Do you remember what it felt like to pick glass shards out of your hands? Do you remember what it felt like to pry thumbtacks from the bones of your knees? It fucking sucks! I did it near on every night against men 4 times better and bigger than you. Jon Ryan is a better man that you ever will be, he was my mentor and night after night he broke glass, chairs, tubes and sometimes even ran me over in the name of deathmatch Wrestling.

Jimmy sighed.

Jimmy Havoc: Win or lose Wes, you won’t be the same man at the end. Are you ready to sacrifice everything you’ve worked hard for? Is Natalya ready to be woken by you in a cold sweat remembering what Jimmy fucking Havoc did to you that fateful night? Are you ready to be scared to tell your kids that daddy’s not okay after I beat the shit out of you?! Go home Wes, love your wife and your kids. Be the father you never had, because come Sunday I will be the Jimmy Havoc I was born to be. That’s someone you really don’t wanna know. This is not a warning, or a threat or a spoiler or any of that shit. This is me begging you, not to go through with this because I’m worried that once I get you in that ring, beating you into a submission, I’m worried that...

Jimmy looked down.

Jimmy Havoc: I’m worried I won’t ever stop.

The camera flashed again, the spotlight flashed and Havoc disappeared leaving only the words “DIE IKEDA DIE” in what appeared to be blood. The screen faded to black as “KILL HAVOC KILL” appeared and disappeared.

[Ben M]

Yes! Love Heel Havoc <3