Haywire stands in the thick of The Groves cradling a knife. It gleams in the light of the sun as he twists and turns it in his blood-stained hands.
Haywire: “Ahhh, how the sweet taste of death still lingers in the air like a fine wine aged to perfection. For it was here, upon this very pasture, that my killing spree finally met it’s end.
Haywire: “My prize? The crowns of two young tenderfoots who found themselves innocently entangled in my elaborate web, woven with deliberate care and deadly precision.”
HeHeHeHeHeHe! Haywire chuckles to himself manically.
Haywire: “Oh, how they scuttled about like little insignificant pests, oblivious of the impending doom which awaited them.”
Haywire begins skipping through the foliage, swinging his arms and slashing away at the plant life as he goes.
Haywire: “I became the master of the hunt, my yellow friend, sharpening my skills with every head I pruned. Their tiny noggins were a testament to my cunning and prowess.”
Haywire: “Trophies of my superiority over the feeble creatures that roam this pathetic world.”
The Madness stops suddenly, spying something up ahead. He crouches down, concealing himself beneath the shrubbery.
Haywire: “Those flowering young girlies thought themselves invincible, cocooned in the fallacies of their parents’ safekeeping, but little did they know how their naivety danced so poetically to the tune of my design.”
There’s a ruffle in the long grass up ahead, followed by a distinct and unmistakable hissing sound. Haywire smiles sadistically – priming himself as only a cold-hearted killer can – before crawling slowly towards the disturbance.
Haywire: “Like a serpent that sheds its skin, I shed myself of their burdensome existence, leaving nothing behind, save the whispers in the wind and memories which fade into silence.”
Haywire: “Their bodies – once vessels brimming with budding life – reduced to four-foot, decapitated husks.”
HeHeHeHeHeHe! Ol’ Madcap chuckles to himself once again before stopping short of his intended target. As he peers through the thicket, he sees a deadly Burmese python slithering through the undergrowth.
Haywire: “Oh, it was quite the show. Like a snake whose head is severed, their death was swift and merciless.”
He readies himself to strike.
Haywire: “And the look of realisation as it dawned upon their little faces, knowing there was to be no hero to save them, was like a symphony of terror that sang solely to me.”
Haywire leaps from his cover, catching the snake unawares and locking his fist around its neck.
Haywire: “You see, my yellow friend, I am not like you. I am not bound by the laws of men, nor am I shackled by the constraints of morality.”
The python struggles as it tries to break free from the Padded Menace’s hold.
Haywire: “I am something you shall never be: Free to indulge in my darkest desires.
Haywire tightens his grip.
Haywire: “At liberty to bring to the block as many heads as I see fit in order to satisfy my insatiable hunger…”
As the animal’s eyes begin to fade, Haywire places the blade of his knife against its neck.
Haywire: “…starting with you.”
The camera pans away suddenly as we await the inevitable.
Slice.
THUD.
Silence.
HeHeHeHeHeHeHeHeHeHeHeHe!
Static.