Koyaanisqatsi II: Fade to Black
Sept 29, 2015 20:58:24 GMT -5
Joey Flash, 6ix God, and 1 more like this
Post by God King Dune on Sept 29, 2015 20:58:24 GMT -5
Koyaanisqatsi (ko-yaa-nis-katsi): Life disintegrating
“Night is blighted and darkness glows. The Black One remains, remains, remains…” - Ingmar Bergman, "The Seventh Seal"
“I was me, but now he’s gone.” - METALLICA
The faraway cries of a desperate woman precede the vision of a torch-lit struggle in the distance. As we zoom in, we can see the body of a man lying on the ground in front of her. His blood stains the sand that four outlaws trample upon as they torment the woman. She’s backed up against a canyon wall, and they jab at the air in front of her with their blades and torches as they close in.
Suddenly one charges, and we pan away as the woman lets out a final scream before she’s silenced forever.
The smooth sands that glide beneath us are made blue by the moon’s reflected stellar light. The camera begins to slow, and it comes to a stop on a man in a grey suit walking toward a small nook in a nearby canyon. It’s the Jackal, and when he nears, a teenage boy leaps out and throws a knife at his head. It’s right on target, and the man doesn’t move...but it misses all the same. He doesn’t bother to dodge the next one that flies at him either, though by then he’s merely feet away.
The teenager charges, and the man smiles before uttering three words.
Jackal: Let me in.
The Jackal disappears, and all that’s left is the teenage boy. A struggle ensues within the boy’s mind, but the jackal wins out easily. He speaks aloud to his vessel, who’s trapped somewhere within.
Jackal: You’re awfully ready to die, aren’t you? And so soon after losing both your parents just now.
From a void within, the boy responds.
Sean: Let me out you son of a bitch!
The Jackal laughs to hear his rage.
Jackal: Don’t worry, child - I’m not here for you...not yet. You can have your pathetic body back in a moment or two. I only want to hold you baby brother...what is it you call him again?
The possessed teenaged boy walks back over to the nook, wherein lies a white blanket that kicks and shuffles atop a smooth rock-ledge. He unwraps it carefully, revealing a bright and beaming baby boy beneath. His supple skin shines in the moonlight as his older brother again calls out from within himself.
Sean: Goddamn you! Don’t you lay a finger on him!
Jackal: Shh...
He picks the baby and holds him out at arm’s length. His adorable, once-smiling face takes on a somber expression, and his icy blue eyes remain fixated on his possessed-brother as if he knows something’s not right.
Jackal: There you are. Dune, is it?
A smile comes over his face as he pulls the baby in close.
Jackal: I’ll be seeing you.
A gust of wind blows, and in an instant Dune’s older brother has regained control of his mind and body. He holds his baby brother tight as fear and the realization that his parents have just been murdered takes hold. The wind moves on, and he hunkers down in the small cave, cradling Dune. We zoom in on the future WCF World Champion, whose eyes stare into the screen as the shot fades to another.
Dune ages 28 years in a few seconds. He continues to stare into the screen, though his eyes have drained of all emotion. We zoom out and pan over to see the Jackal - or Jack, as he’s known to Dune - staring back. They stand at a crossroads in the desert, and Jack smiles as he puts out his hand.
Jack: It’s a deal…
They shake.
Jack: ...so long as you let me in.
In in an instant Dune finds himself transported from the crossroads to the passenger seat of a Jaguar XJ, whose luxury is a far cry from the harshness of the previous locale.
For a moment he forgets that his only love, Pinky, has lapsed into a coma; that his unborn child who was growing within her only hours before has been churned to a pulp. He even forgets about Joey Flash, who he’s 100% certain is guilty of the unspeakable deed. “Joey...Joey, he…,” Pinky had said before she fell quiet. But two crucial words went unspoken: “...saved me.”
He turns to see Jack behind the wheel, calmly hugging the turns of the winding road they travel down. The sun was shining a moment ago, but now it’s hidden far below the horizon.
Dune: How’d we get here?
Jack’s eyes peak his way, and he smiles.
Jack: I brought you with me just now. It’s good to see you aren’t throwing a fit. Some do, you know - in their confusion. Of course they do. They’re only human, and by rule they fear what they don’t understand.
Dune: I don’t fear you -
Jack: That’s good.
Dune: - but I want to know what you are.
Jack: Didn’t John Mullins tell you?
Dune: He said you were a demon.
Jack laughs as he narrowly avoids a small mouse scurrying across his lane.
Jack: Wrong.
Dune: Then what are you?
Jack: An angel, more like - a guardian angel: yours. But in truth I’m neither angel nor demon, and what I am isn’t as important as what I can do.
Dune: And what’s that?
Jack: Bring you Joey Flash. Blood; vengeance; death - that is still what you want?
The name of his arch rival brings it all back: Pinky; his unborn child. Months of in-ring and backstage trespasses seem meaningless now as he imagines how and why Flash committed his crimes. A tinge of doubt strikes him as he considers the isolated destruction of Pinky’s womb, though it only lasts a moment before Jack interrupts his thoughts.
Jack: You’re not sure if it was him.
Dune: I am...I just wish I knew how.
Jack: Would you like to know - would you like to see?
Two voices speak out from within. One pleads to be spared what are sure to be unforgettably gruesome images; the other begs to bear witness to Joey Flash’s guilt.
He turns.
Dune: Yes.
Jack grabs hold of his hand, and in so doing a vision overtakes his experience:
He’s back in the wastes, outside the Double X as Joey Flash and a group of masked outlaws prepare to storm the bar. A projectile explosive blasts a hole in the side of the building before Joey and the rest spill through, where the only resistance they meet is Chief - Pinky’s father and Dune’s good friend.
Dune shouts as Joey Flash raises his gun and takes aim at Chief’s head…
But his screams are silent, and the bullet blasts away the big native’s skull.
Pinky’s screams, on the other hand, are anything but silent. They claw at his ears as he watches on in a heated, adrenaline-fueled rage. A familiar feeling of powerlessness overcomes him - the same he felt the night his brother was slain while he watched on in binds - and he nearly loses his mind as his nightmarish premonitions begin to unfold.
Joey Flash calls the other men off as they back Pinky into a corner. “You’ll have your turn,” he says to them before grabbing hold of her chin. “But I get first taste.” She punches him square in the jaw, though he recovers in time to catch her arm as she flees. He throws her to the ground, where he falls on top of her and begins pummeling her face. When she’s finally unconscious, Joey begins unbuttoning her shirt...and Dune can take no more.
He reaches out for Flash with arms that aren’t there, and in his inability to save the one he loves, he lets out a furious, silent scream…
Which becomes audible as the vision fades and reality takes hold.
Beads of sweat are flung from his brow as he looks around in panic. He’s back in the Jaguar, and Jack hugs another tight corner along the winding, two-lane road as he speaks.
Jack: Now you see.
Regaining himself, Dune sits back stares ahead in horrible contemplation. In his silence, the Jackal continues.
Jack: Somewhere beneath the darkness that surrounds Joey Flash, there hides a fractured human being. I can help you break him, Dune. I can help you take away everything he is; everything he’s become...until all that’s left is the darkness. Is that what you want?
Normally Dune would give a resounding “no” and say that Flash was his and his alone in the ring at WAR...but the past couple hours have changed everything. Having witnessed the terrifyingly great albeit mysterious power of the Jackal, which at this point Dune doesn’t question the legitimacy of, the sadistic thought of Flash suffering by not only his hand but by the Jackal’s as well sounds all the more appealing.
Staring out at the road ahead, a single word escapes his lips.
Dune: Yes.
It’s opposite of the one Joey Flash uttered when posed with a similar offer in the desert. His denial of the Jackal had lead to the horrors that unfolded at the Double X...though Flash was innocent of any true guilt.
The Jackal smiles. His plans have gone off brilliantly. With Dune so utterly convinced that Flash committed the unspeakable atrocities that befell Pinky and her unborn child, he has the WCF World Champion in the palm of his hand. He steps on the gas, and we zoom out of the car as it speeds off into the night.
John Mullins finishes a cup of coffee as he stands in front of the T.V. He’s seen the news-story a hundred times since it happened just under a week before, and yet still it fascinates him.
Anchor: ...devastating events at the wedding of Joey Flash. Whether or not foul play was at hand isn’t a question, though at this point authorities haven’t given any information with regard to possible suspects.
He shuts the T.V. off and walks over to a nearby computer. His visit with Dune in NYC a few days prior runs through his mind as he tries to make sense of it all. He’d warned Dune about the Jackal, having dealt with him in the past while with the CIA, though their visit had ended with Dune firmly disbelieving the Jackal was a threat to him - or that he even existed - and that Joey Flash was the only person he needed to worry about.
But before Dune left NYC, Mullins managed to plant a tiny, translucent microphone on his mask. Now he pulls up the playback with the hopes of finding evidence linking the Jackal to the crime. He puts his headphones on and sifts through his conversation with Dune in route back to the airfield.
We pick up with WCF World Champion on board WCF One right where we left off last time: near the beginning of his tirade against Joey Flash for returning to the desert.
Dune: The Mojave awaits me now, Joey. Had I known you were going back , I would’ve stuck around to play a bit of cat and mouse before intercepting you again. We had a cordial enough visit the first time around - even if it was marred by tension and quarrels; even if you blindsided me and left me for dead in that little slice of hell called Satan’s Maw, where the magma seeps to the surface. Did you enjoy your stay, Joey? You must have, because apparently you’ve come back for a second visit.
But you’re not sightseeing. You’re not off on a vision quest or some bullshit like you were a few weeks ago. I know why you’re in the desert, Joey, and it’s because of me. I’m not being vain in my assumption; I’m only being logical. You’re not there to build me up though. You’ve come to burn me down, and I wouldn’t put it past you to try and do so by any means necessary. Months of baiting me on with in-ring interferences and sneak attacks backstage could only take you so far, and in your failure to do any sort of meaningful damage to my psyche, you changed the plan. You turned your attention away from me in favor of those I care for most in this world.
And it all began with Howard Black.
Sure you fucked over Occulo, but so did his father. For the crimes against Howard though, you bear the full brunt of the blame.
I remember it like it was yesterday, Joey. There I was in the Sentinels locker room. “I don’t want your help tonight, Dune,” Howard had said. “Flash and Fly are mine.” And I believed him. He was one of the greatest fighters I’d ever seen. But as the handicap match unfolded, and you clung to his arm after the final bell had rung, I couldn’t sit back and watch any longer. Out I ran, and there you were with your proposal: put my Title on the line and you’d put my partner down. I held up my end of the bargain...but you shattered Howie’s arm all the same.
Despite my undying hatred for you ever since, I’ll be the first to say it was a beautiful plan: get to the Champion by using the ones he holds most dear. And you did...because ever since the amplified echo of Howard’s arm snapping in half raped my ears, I’ve wanted nothing more than to meet you in the ring.
But you didn’t stop there. Next it was none other than Seth Lerch who helped you strike at me far beyond the finite boundaries of the squared circle. His no-physical-contact clause in our WAR contracts and subsequent request that each of us bring a personal friend to bear witness to the signing allowed you the perfect opportunity. You beat the piss out of my best friend and mentor, Freeman, and even though he’s taken far worse, it was another unforgivable trespass.
And now...now you’re in the desert, where I’m not.
Now the news of my unborn child growing in Pinky’s belly has spread.
And it just so happens that she’s the only one left on what must be a short list...not to mention the most vulnerable.
You piece of fucking shit. Don’t you dare, Joey. Don’t you...
God DAMN it!
Saying it from above the clouds makes me feel even more powerless. Just wait until I get down there you piece of shit. And if you’ve fled by the time I come looking and I don’t get my hands on you until WAR, so be it. Either way you’ll burn before this is over.
You’re so goddamn proud of yourself right now. You fancy yourself the cleverest motherfucker in the world for your changing of the plan - for trying to get at me through those I love. For as long as you could remember you were the smartest man in the room, but if I haven’t buried you beneath the sands by the time WAR rolls around, you won’t even be the smartest man in the ring. You’ve met your match and then some, Joey. Aside from a few humiliating and thus far career defining losses, sad as that is to say, you haven’t done much to bury yourself. In fact, you’re a hell of a fighter...but the same can be said of damn near everyone on the roster.
So don’t get it twisted, Joey. You’re not here because of your talent. You’re not the legitimate #2 man in the WCF - nor are you #1...but you know that. In targeting the pillars of my life - The Sentinels, Freeman...and god forbid, Pinky - you haven’t taken the upper hand; you haven’t seen the light, as you’d like to imagine. You’ve only deepened the darkness that’s fated to consume you.
What if I were like you, Joey? What if I weren’t the foremost talent in this industry and I was just a sniveling little cunt trying to get your attention. I could, you know. You’ve got friends and family too, Joey, and they’re embedded deep into the fabric of your life. But it wouldn’t be so hard to reap a bit of what you’ve sewn. I can think of just as many cruel things to do to Alessandre and little Christian as you could Pinky. How would you like that? I don’t think you would...but then again, I never thought you’d take our struggle so far beyond the ring. At this point, I’m not sure what to think of you.
Are you coming for her, Joey, as my gut tells me? Or is that just my nature fucking with me. I’ve never loved anyone I didn’t lose. I often find myself daydreaming of losing those close to me in unrealistically horrific ways. It’s strange...but it’s my nature, and I can only hope that’s what has me walking a razor’s edge.
But it’s possible to fool one’s nature. Right now, I’m imagining finding Pinky unharmed and waiting for me at home. With the sight of her, the past five hours I spent raving about you on a plane will have become meaningless. I can feel the relief washing over me now. I can feel her in my arms, vibrant and alive with the thought of our child and what’s to come of our future. As we embrace, there’s nothing withheld...
Yet as the tide of relief begins to ebb, another washes in - that of vengeance against Joey fucking Flash.
No matter what I find upon returning home, you’ll never escape my thoughts, Joey - not until I’ve done you in at WAR or sooner. Pray you last until the opening bell, because if I find you in the wastes after learning you’ve laid your hands on Pinky - a finger, even - it’ll be the last stop of a long, shameful, wasted life.
You should have died long ago, Joey. But just as steel bullets have torn holes in your body, my in-ring dominance of the WCF only served to tear holes in your mind; to infiltrate your psyche...unlike your fighting ability could ever do to mine. But that’s because I’m not like you, Joey. I don’t need to act out to get attention. All I’ve got to do is step in the ring and let my killer instinct take over. Once that happens, no one’s safe...least of all you.
Mullins pauses the recording. “Not a word of the Jackal,” he thinks to himself, but there’s still plenty of audio left.
He reflects on Dune’s words to Joey Flash in hindsight of what happened on the day of Flash’s wedding. A visible shudder passes through him before he rises from his seat to make a cup of coffee. The camera remains fixated on his desk, and after a few seconds the screen fades to black.
A dim light fades in to reveal a sea of sand beneath a canopy of stars. We pan over, and the face of the Jackal overtakes the screen. He smiles to hear the telltale sounds of a struggle closeby. We turn with him as he walks toward it. Up ahead, a group of outlaws separate a young man and a teenaged boy. They’re brothers, and it’s been 15 years since the last time we saw them together on the night their parents were murdered.
The Jackal closes on the chaos, and his form begins to dematerialize to all but us. He walks unseen past some outlaws as they beat the older Sean, and he smiles as he turns to see the 15 year old Dune being bound to a stake. While the others turn their attention to Sean, the Jackal walks toward Dune. He inspects his face as he draws near, reaching out and running his hand down his unblemished jawline from ear to ear. Dune feels only a slight tingling, and he shivers as he shouts at his brother’s handlers.
Dune: Leave him alone you motherfuckers!
In the blink of an eye the Jackal shoots into the body of the outlaw leader,who turns his attention from Sean to Dune. The possessed man walks over and grabs his chin before raising a blade. He’s about to dig in when Dune speaks up.
Dune: Don’t do this.
The Jackal smiles from within.
Jackal: Oh, but I must.
He tears into Dune’s face, giving him a crimson mask and shredding it beyond repair before turning back to Sean. He doesn’t hesitate to jab the very same blade up under his sternum, wrenching it out only to jab it back in up under the ribs near his heart. The wounds ensure that death is imminent, and the Jackal transfers himself from the outlaw to Sean. He senses the overwhelming pain shooting through him, though he himself is immune to it’s crippling barbs.
Jackal: I haven’t been HERE in awhile. You remember me, don’t you?
In shock from the pain, Sean manages two final words.
Sean: Save him.
Jackal: That’s the idea.
Confusion becomes his final experience before drifting away into unconsciousness . Meanwhile, amidst the agonizing screams of Dune, the Jackal departs his dying vessel and strolls casually toward the door to the brothers’ subterranean abode just a few feet away. Hell hounds bay from within - three of them - and he crouches down before whispering through the heavy boards.
Jackal: Let me in.
In an instant he’s taken control of one of the three rottweilers - the same one he would possess in the weeks leading up to WAR - and the shot fades out as they break the door down and begin to scatter the outlaws.
We fade back in a few minutes later.
Blood spills from Dune’s freshly butchered face as he kneels beside his brother and two of his three dogs, who by now are gone forever. He’s alone aside from the only companion he has left...or so he thinks.
As the camera pans over and zooms out, we see the Jackal standing over Dune’s shoulder in the dark of night, smiling at the trail he’s blazed for the future WCF World Champion.
With the image, the screen cuts to black.
Back in the present day, Dune and the Jackal emerge from the winding, tree-lined road they’d been traveling down for hours. The sun has come up, though it’s still early morning. Dune begins to snap out of a dreamlike haze as the Jaguar speeds through the fog. It seems like it was only moments ago that he was holding Pinky in the desert, staring down at her broken face and the grisly wounds Joey Flash inflicted upon her navel...or so he remains convinced. But all the while, the guilty party sits beside him.
Dune turns to Jack, breaking a long spell of silence that he’s just now become aware of.
Dune: Where are we going?
The Jackal nods ahead as they round a bend to reveal their destination: a huge glass city and the sprawl that surrounds it.
Jackal: New York, New York.
Dune: Why?
Jackal: To find and kill Joey Flash, of course. Why else?
A flood of memories comes rushing over him: the rage he’d felt upon realizing his unborn son was dead as Pinky slipped into a coma; throwing Freeman to the ground and leaving him bleeding and unconscious as he fled to the airfield; the Jackal cutting him off at the crossroads…
Dune: How do you plan to do it? And where? I want Flash to pay for what he’s done more than anyone, but we can’t just kill him in the middle of the fucking city.
“We.”
Something about the word isn’t right.
Something about this whole thing isn’t right.
Jackal: Don’t worry - we’ll get to that in due time.
Dune: Why are you so eager to help me find him? What’s he done to you?
Jackal: Nothing. It’s the thrill of the hunt, I suppose. Plus, he’s guilty, Dune, and I’m a man of vengeance. I’m the one who helped you seek it when your brother was murdered before you. I’ve had my eye on you for a long time, and now we’ve come to the brink.
Dune: The brink of what?
Jackal: War.
He thinks of what he’s gotten himself into, stuck alone with this man - this THING - whose awe-inducing power is pervaded by a cold, foreboding darkness. Dune had clung to it in his immediate rage, though now it sets off alarm signals in his mind. The Jackal hears them too.
Jackal: Don’t worry, Dune. There won’t be any witnesses. And I’ll save him just for you. I won’t lay a single hand on his poor, sobbing head.
Dune: What do you mean you’ve had your eye on me for a long time? What do you mean you’ve -
The Jackal grabs hold of Dune’s hand, and once more a vision overtakes his experience. It’s similar to the one we saw at the outset, though the Jackal has changed it to his liking. It shows Sean cradling Dune in his arms moments after his parents were killed as the Jackal watches on from afar, never interacting with the brothers.
The vision fades to another - the one we’ve just come out of, though again the Jackal has seen fit to change it so as to keep up the ruse that he’s on Dune’s side. The Jackal stands beside Dune in support as the unpossessed outlaw leader butchers his face then proceeds to murder his older brother. Just as the dogs break through, reality takes hold once more.
But the visions don’t have the same convincing effect as they did the first time, and Dune shoots his head toward the Jackal in fury.
Dune: What the fuck are you?!
Jackal: Shh...no need to shout. I’m right here - right by your side where I’ve always been.
Dune reaches over and grabs him by his collar before yanking him in.
Dune: Tell me now!
Jackal: I’m not the Devil, if that’s what you’re thinking.
Dune: No - you’re my “guardian angel,” right?
Jackal: Now you’re gettin’ it.
Dune: And how so, because you watched my parents die? Because you watched as my face was torn and flayed; watched as my brother died a slow and agonizing death?!
He throws Dune back against the passenger door, nearly shattering the half-open window.
Jackal: No - because I made them die; I made your face into what it’s become...and in so doing I made you into what you’ve become.
An expression of demonic rage comes over the Jackal’s face before he grabs hold of Dune’s hand once more. This time, the visions he shows Dune are the ones that truly unfolded - the ones we were privy too earlier: the murder of his parents and the possession of his brother; the butchering of his face and the murder of his brother…
Reality takes hold, and Dune doesn’t hesitate to strike. Despite the speeding Jaguar, he throws a series of punches that would have otherwise killed a man...and yet none of them make contact with the Jackal. He laughs as he continues driving toward the glass city far off in the distance.
Jackal: We made a deal, Dune. There’s no turning back now!
Dune reaches for him, once more grabbing only air and the smooth leather seat.
Jackal: You said it yourself: Blood; vengeance;death. The most memorable day of Joey Flash’s life has dawned...
Dune grabs hold of the wheel.
Jackal: ...and I’m not talking about his wedding.
With a powerful thrust of his arm, Dune spins the wheel, sending the Jaguar down a steep grade into a ditch. His head slams against the dash, and bright, flashing colors fill his vision upon impact before fading to reveal the driver’s seat is empty. Dune falls out of the car and looks around for the Jackal, but he’s nowhere in sight. A patch of dark woods lies before him, and he makes his way into the trees in hopes of evading him.
“He penetrates the mind, Dune. Then he takes the body.”
The words of John Mullins ring out in his head as he makes his way deeper into the forest...just as the Jackal would have it. Dune begins a 360 degree scan of the trees, though he only gets about halfway before he sees the man who brought him here. The Jackal looks less human than ever now. His eyes are red and gleaming, and his form is a black shadow compared to the pale flesh of before.
Dune remains frozen against his will as the Jackal closes in silently, his feet never touching the ground. When he’s only a few inches from Dune’s half-masked face, he speaks in a hushed, multi-toned voice, each so deep as to almost be inaudible.
Jackal: We had a deal, Dune.
He runs his shadowy fingers down Dune’s mask just as he’d done to his unscarred face years ago - before butchering it and murdering his older brother. He stares through Dune’s icy blue eyes as he speaks a final phrase.
Jackal: Now let me in.
And the screen cuts to black.
John Mullins shuffles through an old file folder, a fresh cup of coffee at his desk. He finds the right one, and he closes the drawer and sets it on his laps as he reaches for his mug. After a sip, he reaches out and fumbles with the mouse. The screensaver fades and he pulls up the audio recording of Dune we heard part of earlier. He presses “play,” and we pick up with the WCF World Champion where we left off.
Dune: You changed the game, Joey.
You did so in your attempts to provoke me by going after the ones I love. I warned you. I told you this would end at WAR if you reigned it in and stayed the course. It was a simple task, Joey - one you would have benefitted greatly from had you completed it - but it proved too much for you.
You just had to go back to the desert; you just had to get another taste.
But for now I’m going to forget about you being so near to Pinky and my unborn child. The man in me says you aren’t so cruel as to harm a hair on her head...but something worse inside me says otherwise - a darkness I can’t quite grasp. But it grows, Joey. Even now as I near the wastes, I can feel it’s cold spreading through me. That’s the kind of man you are: one who inspires hatred and hostilities, the very thing man as a species has had to overcome to reach the heights we’re at today. But then again, war is inevitable on every scale of humanity. There’s always going to be someone whose jealousy, envy, and greed get the best of them; whose monstrous ego can only be ignored by the masses for so long.
That’s you, Joey. I am what you aspire to be - the greatest fighter in the world - and that maddens you to no end. All the time you spent running drugs and sucking dick for the mafia didn’t make you into the overinflated ego maniac you’ve become though. No, you just happened to stumble into a fucking gym and realize you were the best fighter amongst a herd of absolute shit. That’s what started it all. You beat up on some winos and inner city group-home motherfuckers back in the day and BAM greatest fighter in the world.
What were you fighting for in the gym, Joey - your life? No. You weren’t there out of necessity. You enjoyed it. It gave you that boost you needed - that little bit of reassurance that kept you going. In a life that had crumbled to the ground and would have otherwise been washed far out to sea, the fight is all that kept you anchored to the shore.
It’s that same fight that marks the only dividing-line of our clashing worlds. It’s all we have in common. The only difference is, I didn’t grow up fighting for fun; I did so to stay alive.
You’ve done that a few times as well, though not against such an efficient killing machine as me. And make no mistake, Joey: I will fucking kill you if I return home to find my world in ashes, as I know deep down is one of your burning desires. Because in your mind, with my world turned to ruin, your ultimate goal of shining in the spotlight as WCF World Champion becomes that much more attainable…
But you’re wrong, Joey.
How could making me want to straight up end your life in the ring play to your advantage? Because you want my best? You would have gotten that had we kept all this between the ropes you fucking ass. Now you’ve crossed into another realm though. Unlike you, I didn’t learn how to fight in a gym with safety gear and a tampon in. My first fight was my first kill, and I can assure you fighting for the opportunity to live past the next few minutes is far more intense and impactful than fighting not to get punched in your headgear by a hand wrapped in a goddamn pillow. Your training may have made you better, but it didn’t make you the best. It only fooled you into believing so.
What a cruel jest that is...though you’re not alone in falling for it. There’s thousands of you, Joey - guys who came in gunning for the top and just couldn’t pull the fucking trigger. That’s you. You can aim at me all you want. You can blast away my brothers Occulo and Howard Black; my mentor Freeman...even Pinky and my unborn child, if that IS what you’re up to in the desert as I remain powerless aboard this plane...but you’ll never sink the killing blow in me, Flash. You’ll never bring me down to the darkness I’m set to plunge you in at WAR, or sooner if need be. After all, if history is any indication, down is exactly what you get when your truly mediocre ability is exposed for all to see.
After you lost the TV Title to Grime…
The name hangs in the air, and even Mullins can’t help but laugh at the memory.
Dune: ...you sunk into a black pit of depression. You even went so far as to try and change your very nature and demeanor. But somewhere during the process of rewiring yourself to become a decent human being, you got bored and tired of the true chore it had become. That wasn’t you, Joey. Just like that wasn’t you in the ring against Grime...or so you convinced yourself. But that was you, as is the man who’s been struggling ever since.
You peaked, Joey. Does that scare you? It’s the truth. The few months you spent in the company during 2014 were far better to you than any point in 2015 has been as a whole. You built yourself up quite nicely by the turn of the new year, Joey. Funny then how you’ve never been the same since I came around in late December.
Your body hasn’t changed though, and that leaves only one thing that could have: your mind.
I fuck with you, don’t I, Joey? My unrivaled talent, I mean. You rage to see it; you want it to be yours. But it can’t be, and neither can what it’s brought me; what’s been around my waist since May: the WCF World Title. I’m not Natural Ice Beckman - the man every wrestler in this Federation aside from Bobby Cairo failed to stop for over a year before I came along. It only took me five months to topple the hollow giant each and every one of you allowed him to become, and in place of him on the throne there sits the greatest WCF World Champion of all time.
I don’t beg for attention between every match on Slam like naive bitches expect a Champion to do. All I do is go out and dominate my opponent every time I step between the ropes. That’s what a true Champion does. So be my guest if you want to eat sour grapes like every other butt-hurt established guy I came in after and absolutely wrecked in the ring. I can’t help but laugh at that shit. I find it baffling...but then again, I’ve never convinced myself I was better than everyone else only to be proven otherwise time and again. Just look at their names, Joey - go down the roster and say them aloud...but make sure to save yours for last. That’s not to say you’re the best of the fallen...but you’re certainly the most deserving to be among their ranks.
And now you think you’re going to come along and dethrone me, even after seeing all the carnage I’ve left in my wake since January. I’d pity you if I didn’t want to see you broken for it.
Consider it done.
There’s a darkness inside everyone. You’ve summoned mine. Even if I find that those few I hold dear to my heart are safe from your ill-fated touch when I get home, you’ve awoken something deep within that can never be put back and sealed until I’ve been given the chance to let loose on you in the ring.
WAR, Joey - the last stop on what’s been a long and unpleasant ride since the springtime thaw. You’ve had your fun along the way...now it’s time I had mine. And wouldn’t you know it, the sort of fun I get off on as a grown man hasn’t changed since I was a child. While you were shoving G.I. Joe’s up your ass and running drugs for the mafia, I was honing the very skills that enabled me to ascend to the top of WCF Mountain faster than damn near anyone in this company’s great history; to reign from on high more convincingly than any other World Champion before me.
But the darkness is real, Joey, and the one that spreads through me is wrought of your trespasses. You ignored the parameters; you strayed too far from home.
You changed the game, Joey.
Now it’s my turn.
A long silence follows the words, and even in his hatred for Joey Flash, John Mullins sheds a tear as he contemplates Dune's words upon recalling the day of Joey’s wedding. The camera zooms out slowly before it fades into another.
The desert.
Of course. Where else?
But we’re not in the Mojave, or any other desert on Earth for that matter.
Dune walks toward the horizon, though a change has overcome him. The mask we’ve come to associate with him is gone, and in its place is a smooth, unblemished jawline. He’s not entirely unbearable to look upon without the butchered flesh that’s always made him so. In fact he’s quite handsome...but his looks won’t serve him here.
Why?
Because he’s utterly alone - trapped in an infinitely small pocket of his own mind…
Trapped in the void by the Jackal.
“He penetrates the mind, Dune. Then he takes the body.”
The WCF World Champion continues to walk atop the seemingly endless sands, knowing that if he makes it to the horizon everything will be fixed...but such is the spell he’s under. For not only is he wholly unaware of what needs fixing, but he doesn’t even know himself. Nor is he aware of his memory lapse. He just walks...and walks...
We pan over to see he’s making no progress whatsoever. He’s merely walking in place, and as he strides on intently, we begin to zoom out...and out...until he becomes a mere speck atop an unbroken sea of golden sand. Still we zoom out, faster now, and darkness overtakes the sands before we pass through a gleaming, wet barrier.
It’s an eyeball, and the iris is icy blue.
It’s that of Dune, and soon his true face fills the screen. He reaches back and unclasps his mask, slowly revealing the gruesome scars beneath. A sinister smile creeps up his butchered cheeks. It’s a monstrous sight - one only the Jackal could conjure up - and he glares into the lens with devastation in mind as he speaks.
Dune: Here I come, Joey.
And we fade to black.
“Night is blighted and darkness glows. The Black One remains, remains, remains…” - Ingmar Bergman, "The Seventh Seal"
“I was me, but now he’s gone.” - METALLICA
In the Arms of Death
The faraway cries of a desperate woman precede the vision of a torch-lit struggle in the distance. As we zoom in, we can see the body of a man lying on the ground in front of her. His blood stains the sand that four outlaws trample upon as they torment the woman. She’s backed up against a canyon wall, and they jab at the air in front of her with their blades and torches as they close in.
Suddenly one charges, and we pan away as the woman lets out a final scream before she’s silenced forever.
The smooth sands that glide beneath us are made blue by the moon’s reflected stellar light. The camera begins to slow, and it comes to a stop on a man in a grey suit walking toward a small nook in a nearby canyon. It’s the Jackal, and when he nears, a teenage boy leaps out and throws a knife at his head. It’s right on target, and the man doesn’t move...but it misses all the same. He doesn’t bother to dodge the next one that flies at him either, though by then he’s merely feet away.
The teenager charges, and the man smiles before uttering three words.
Jackal: Let me in.
The Jackal disappears, and all that’s left is the teenage boy. A struggle ensues within the boy’s mind, but the jackal wins out easily. He speaks aloud to his vessel, who’s trapped somewhere within.
Jackal: You’re awfully ready to die, aren’t you? And so soon after losing both your parents just now.
From a void within, the boy responds.
Sean: Let me out you son of a bitch!
The Jackal laughs to hear his rage.
Jackal: Don’t worry, child - I’m not here for you...not yet. You can have your pathetic body back in a moment or two. I only want to hold you baby brother...what is it you call him again?
The possessed teenaged boy walks back over to the nook, wherein lies a white blanket that kicks and shuffles atop a smooth rock-ledge. He unwraps it carefully, revealing a bright and beaming baby boy beneath. His supple skin shines in the moonlight as his older brother again calls out from within himself.
Sean: Goddamn you! Don’t you lay a finger on him!
Jackal: Shh...
He picks the baby and holds him out at arm’s length. His adorable, once-smiling face takes on a somber expression, and his icy blue eyes remain fixated on his possessed-brother as if he knows something’s not right.
Jackal: There you are. Dune, is it?
A smile comes over his face as he pulls the baby in close.
Jackal: I’ll be seeing you.
A gust of wind blows, and in an instant Dune’s older brother has regained control of his mind and body. He holds his baby brother tight as fear and the realization that his parents have just been murdered takes hold. The wind moves on, and he hunkers down in the small cave, cradling Dune. We zoom in on the future WCF World Champion, whose eyes stare into the screen as the shot fades to another.
Seeing is Believing
Dune ages 28 years in a few seconds. He continues to stare into the screen, though his eyes have drained of all emotion. We zoom out and pan over to see the Jackal - or Jack, as he’s known to Dune - staring back. They stand at a crossroads in the desert, and Jack smiles as he puts out his hand.
Jack: It’s a deal…
They shake.
Jack: ...so long as you let me in.
In in an instant Dune finds himself transported from the crossroads to the passenger seat of a Jaguar XJ, whose luxury is a far cry from the harshness of the previous locale.
For a moment he forgets that his only love, Pinky, has lapsed into a coma; that his unborn child who was growing within her only hours before has been churned to a pulp. He even forgets about Joey Flash, who he’s 100% certain is guilty of the unspeakable deed. “Joey...Joey, he…,” Pinky had said before she fell quiet. But two crucial words went unspoken: “...saved me.”
He turns to see Jack behind the wheel, calmly hugging the turns of the winding road they travel down. The sun was shining a moment ago, but now it’s hidden far below the horizon.
Dune: How’d we get here?
Jack’s eyes peak his way, and he smiles.
Jack: I brought you with me just now. It’s good to see you aren’t throwing a fit. Some do, you know - in their confusion. Of course they do. They’re only human, and by rule they fear what they don’t understand.
Dune: I don’t fear you -
Jack: That’s good.
Dune: - but I want to know what you are.
Jack: Didn’t John Mullins tell you?
Dune: He said you were a demon.
Jack laughs as he narrowly avoids a small mouse scurrying across his lane.
Jack: Wrong.
Dune: Then what are you?
Jack: An angel, more like - a guardian angel: yours. But in truth I’m neither angel nor demon, and what I am isn’t as important as what I can do.
Dune: And what’s that?
Jack: Bring you Joey Flash. Blood; vengeance; death - that is still what you want?
The name of his arch rival brings it all back: Pinky; his unborn child. Months of in-ring and backstage trespasses seem meaningless now as he imagines how and why Flash committed his crimes. A tinge of doubt strikes him as he considers the isolated destruction of Pinky’s womb, though it only lasts a moment before Jack interrupts his thoughts.
Jack: You’re not sure if it was him.
Dune: I am...I just wish I knew how.
Jack: Would you like to know - would you like to see?
Two voices speak out from within. One pleads to be spared what are sure to be unforgettably gruesome images; the other begs to bear witness to Joey Flash’s guilt.
He turns.
Dune: Yes.
Jack grabs hold of his hand, and in so doing a vision overtakes his experience:
He’s back in the wastes, outside the Double X as Joey Flash and a group of masked outlaws prepare to storm the bar. A projectile explosive blasts a hole in the side of the building before Joey and the rest spill through, where the only resistance they meet is Chief - Pinky’s father and Dune’s good friend.
Dune shouts as Joey Flash raises his gun and takes aim at Chief’s head…
But his screams are silent, and the bullet blasts away the big native’s skull.
Pinky’s screams, on the other hand, are anything but silent. They claw at his ears as he watches on in a heated, adrenaline-fueled rage. A familiar feeling of powerlessness overcomes him - the same he felt the night his brother was slain while he watched on in binds - and he nearly loses his mind as his nightmarish premonitions begin to unfold.
Joey Flash calls the other men off as they back Pinky into a corner. “You’ll have your turn,” he says to them before grabbing hold of her chin. “But I get first taste.” She punches him square in the jaw, though he recovers in time to catch her arm as she flees. He throws her to the ground, where he falls on top of her and begins pummeling her face. When she’s finally unconscious, Joey begins unbuttoning her shirt...and Dune can take no more.
He reaches out for Flash with arms that aren’t there, and in his inability to save the one he loves, he lets out a furious, silent scream…
Which becomes audible as the vision fades and reality takes hold.
Beads of sweat are flung from his brow as he looks around in panic. He’s back in the Jaguar, and Jack hugs another tight corner along the winding, two-lane road as he speaks.
Jack: Now you see.
Regaining himself, Dune sits back stares ahead in horrible contemplation. In his silence, the Jackal continues.
Jack: Somewhere beneath the darkness that surrounds Joey Flash, there hides a fractured human being. I can help you break him, Dune. I can help you take away everything he is; everything he’s become...until all that’s left is the darkness. Is that what you want?
Normally Dune would give a resounding “no” and say that Flash was his and his alone in the ring at WAR...but the past couple hours have changed everything. Having witnessed the terrifyingly great albeit mysterious power of the Jackal, which at this point Dune doesn’t question the legitimacy of, the sadistic thought of Flash suffering by not only his hand but by the Jackal’s as well sounds all the more appealing.
Staring out at the road ahead, a single word escapes his lips.
Dune: Yes.
It’s opposite of the one Joey Flash uttered when posed with a similar offer in the desert. His denial of the Jackal had lead to the horrors that unfolded at the Double X...though Flash was innocent of any true guilt.
The Jackal smiles. His plans have gone off brilliantly. With Dune so utterly convinced that Flash committed the unspeakable atrocities that befell Pinky and her unborn child, he has the WCF World Champion in the palm of his hand. He steps on the gas, and we zoom out of the car as it speeds off into the night.
Killer Instinct
John Mullins finishes a cup of coffee as he stands in front of the T.V. He’s seen the news-story a hundred times since it happened just under a week before, and yet still it fascinates him.
Anchor: ...devastating events at the wedding of Joey Flash. Whether or not foul play was at hand isn’t a question, though at this point authorities haven’t given any information with regard to possible suspects.
He shuts the T.V. off and walks over to a nearby computer. His visit with Dune in NYC a few days prior runs through his mind as he tries to make sense of it all. He’d warned Dune about the Jackal, having dealt with him in the past while with the CIA, though their visit had ended with Dune firmly disbelieving the Jackal was a threat to him - or that he even existed - and that Joey Flash was the only person he needed to worry about.
But before Dune left NYC, Mullins managed to plant a tiny, translucent microphone on his mask. Now he pulls up the playback with the hopes of finding evidence linking the Jackal to the crime. He puts his headphones on and sifts through his conversation with Dune in route back to the airfield.
We pick up with WCF World Champion on board WCF One right where we left off last time: near the beginning of his tirade against Joey Flash for returning to the desert.
Dune: The Mojave awaits me now, Joey. Had I known you were going back , I would’ve stuck around to play a bit of cat and mouse before intercepting you again. We had a cordial enough visit the first time around - even if it was marred by tension and quarrels; even if you blindsided me and left me for dead in that little slice of hell called Satan’s Maw, where the magma seeps to the surface. Did you enjoy your stay, Joey? You must have, because apparently you’ve come back for a second visit.
But you’re not sightseeing. You’re not off on a vision quest or some bullshit like you were a few weeks ago. I know why you’re in the desert, Joey, and it’s because of me. I’m not being vain in my assumption; I’m only being logical. You’re not there to build me up though. You’ve come to burn me down, and I wouldn’t put it past you to try and do so by any means necessary. Months of baiting me on with in-ring interferences and sneak attacks backstage could only take you so far, and in your failure to do any sort of meaningful damage to my psyche, you changed the plan. You turned your attention away from me in favor of those I care for most in this world.
And it all began with Howard Black.
Sure you fucked over Occulo, but so did his father. For the crimes against Howard though, you bear the full brunt of the blame.
I remember it like it was yesterday, Joey. There I was in the Sentinels locker room. “I don’t want your help tonight, Dune,” Howard had said. “Flash and Fly are mine.” And I believed him. He was one of the greatest fighters I’d ever seen. But as the handicap match unfolded, and you clung to his arm after the final bell had rung, I couldn’t sit back and watch any longer. Out I ran, and there you were with your proposal: put my Title on the line and you’d put my partner down. I held up my end of the bargain...but you shattered Howie’s arm all the same.
Despite my undying hatred for you ever since, I’ll be the first to say it was a beautiful plan: get to the Champion by using the ones he holds most dear. And you did...because ever since the amplified echo of Howard’s arm snapping in half raped my ears, I’ve wanted nothing more than to meet you in the ring.
But you didn’t stop there. Next it was none other than Seth Lerch who helped you strike at me far beyond the finite boundaries of the squared circle. His no-physical-contact clause in our WAR contracts and subsequent request that each of us bring a personal friend to bear witness to the signing allowed you the perfect opportunity. You beat the piss out of my best friend and mentor, Freeman, and even though he’s taken far worse, it was another unforgivable trespass.
And now...now you’re in the desert, where I’m not.
Now the news of my unborn child growing in Pinky’s belly has spread.
And it just so happens that she’s the only one left on what must be a short list...not to mention the most vulnerable.
You piece of fucking shit. Don’t you dare, Joey. Don’t you...
God DAMN it!
Saying it from above the clouds makes me feel even more powerless. Just wait until I get down there you piece of shit. And if you’ve fled by the time I come looking and I don’t get my hands on you until WAR, so be it. Either way you’ll burn before this is over.
You’re so goddamn proud of yourself right now. You fancy yourself the cleverest motherfucker in the world for your changing of the plan - for trying to get at me through those I love. For as long as you could remember you were the smartest man in the room, but if I haven’t buried you beneath the sands by the time WAR rolls around, you won’t even be the smartest man in the ring. You’ve met your match and then some, Joey. Aside from a few humiliating and thus far career defining losses, sad as that is to say, you haven’t done much to bury yourself. In fact, you’re a hell of a fighter...but the same can be said of damn near everyone on the roster.
So don’t get it twisted, Joey. You’re not here because of your talent. You’re not the legitimate #2 man in the WCF - nor are you #1...but you know that. In targeting the pillars of my life - The Sentinels, Freeman...and god forbid, Pinky - you haven’t taken the upper hand; you haven’t seen the light, as you’d like to imagine. You’ve only deepened the darkness that’s fated to consume you.
What if I were like you, Joey? What if I weren’t the foremost talent in this industry and I was just a sniveling little cunt trying to get your attention. I could, you know. You’ve got friends and family too, Joey, and they’re embedded deep into the fabric of your life. But it wouldn’t be so hard to reap a bit of what you’ve sewn. I can think of just as many cruel things to do to Alessandre and little Christian as you could Pinky. How would you like that? I don’t think you would...but then again, I never thought you’d take our struggle so far beyond the ring. At this point, I’m not sure what to think of you.
Are you coming for her, Joey, as my gut tells me? Or is that just my nature fucking with me. I’ve never loved anyone I didn’t lose. I often find myself daydreaming of losing those close to me in unrealistically horrific ways. It’s strange...but it’s my nature, and I can only hope that’s what has me walking a razor’s edge.
But it’s possible to fool one’s nature. Right now, I’m imagining finding Pinky unharmed and waiting for me at home. With the sight of her, the past five hours I spent raving about you on a plane will have become meaningless. I can feel the relief washing over me now. I can feel her in my arms, vibrant and alive with the thought of our child and what’s to come of our future. As we embrace, there’s nothing withheld...
Yet as the tide of relief begins to ebb, another washes in - that of vengeance against Joey fucking Flash.
No matter what I find upon returning home, you’ll never escape my thoughts, Joey - not until I’ve done you in at WAR or sooner. Pray you last until the opening bell, because if I find you in the wastes after learning you’ve laid your hands on Pinky - a finger, even - it’ll be the last stop of a long, shameful, wasted life.
You should have died long ago, Joey. But just as steel bullets have torn holes in your body, my in-ring dominance of the WCF only served to tear holes in your mind; to infiltrate your psyche...unlike your fighting ability could ever do to mine. But that’s because I’m not like you, Joey. I don’t need to act out to get attention. All I’ve got to do is step in the ring and let my killer instinct take over. Once that happens, no one’s safe...least of all you.
Mullins pauses the recording. “Not a word of the Jackal,” he thinks to himself, but there’s still plenty of audio left.
He reflects on Dune’s words to Joey Flash in hindsight of what happened on the day of Flash’s wedding. A visible shudder passes through him before he rises from his seat to make a cup of coffee. The camera remains fixated on his desk, and after a few seconds the screen fades to black.
Trailblazer
A dim light fades in to reveal a sea of sand beneath a canopy of stars. We pan over, and the face of the Jackal overtakes the screen. He smiles to hear the telltale sounds of a struggle closeby. We turn with him as he walks toward it. Up ahead, a group of outlaws separate a young man and a teenaged boy. They’re brothers, and it’s been 15 years since the last time we saw them together on the night their parents were murdered.
The Jackal closes on the chaos, and his form begins to dematerialize to all but us. He walks unseen past some outlaws as they beat the older Sean, and he smiles as he turns to see the 15 year old Dune being bound to a stake. While the others turn their attention to Sean, the Jackal walks toward Dune. He inspects his face as he draws near, reaching out and running his hand down his unblemished jawline from ear to ear. Dune feels only a slight tingling, and he shivers as he shouts at his brother’s handlers.
Dune: Leave him alone you motherfuckers!
In the blink of an eye the Jackal shoots into the body of the outlaw leader,who turns his attention from Sean to Dune. The possessed man walks over and grabs his chin before raising a blade. He’s about to dig in when Dune speaks up.
Dune: Don’t do this.
The Jackal smiles from within.
Jackal: Oh, but I must.
He tears into Dune’s face, giving him a crimson mask and shredding it beyond repair before turning back to Sean. He doesn’t hesitate to jab the very same blade up under his sternum, wrenching it out only to jab it back in up under the ribs near his heart. The wounds ensure that death is imminent, and the Jackal transfers himself from the outlaw to Sean. He senses the overwhelming pain shooting through him, though he himself is immune to it’s crippling barbs.
Jackal: I haven’t been HERE in awhile. You remember me, don’t you?
In shock from the pain, Sean manages two final words.
Sean: Save him.
Jackal: That’s the idea.
Confusion becomes his final experience before drifting away into unconsciousness . Meanwhile, amidst the agonizing screams of Dune, the Jackal departs his dying vessel and strolls casually toward the door to the brothers’ subterranean abode just a few feet away. Hell hounds bay from within - three of them - and he crouches down before whispering through the heavy boards.
Jackal: Let me in.
In an instant he’s taken control of one of the three rottweilers - the same one he would possess in the weeks leading up to WAR - and the shot fades out as they break the door down and begin to scatter the outlaws.
We fade back in a few minutes later.
Blood spills from Dune’s freshly butchered face as he kneels beside his brother and two of his three dogs, who by now are gone forever. He’s alone aside from the only companion he has left...or so he thinks.
As the camera pans over and zooms out, we see the Jackal standing over Dune’s shoulder in the dark of night, smiling at the trail he’s blazed for the future WCF World Champion.
With the image, the screen cuts to black.
Uninvited
Back in the present day, Dune and the Jackal emerge from the winding, tree-lined road they’d been traveling down for hours. The sun has come up, though it’s still early morning. Dune begins to snap out of a dreamlike haze as the Jaguar speeds through the fog. It seems like it was only moments ago that he was holding Pinky in the desert, staring down at her broken face and the grisly wounds Joey Flash inflicted upon her navel...or so he remains convinced. But all the while, the guilty party sits beside him.
Dune turns to Jack, breaking a long spell of silence that he’s just now become aware of.
Dune: Where are we going?
The Jackal nods ahead as they round a bend to reveal their destination: a huge glass city and the sprawl that surrounds it.
Jackal: New York, New York.
Dune: Why?
Jackal: To find and kill Joey Flash, of course. Why else?
A flood of memories comes rushing over him: the rage he’d felt upon realizing his unborn son was dead as Pinky slipped into a coma; throwing Freeman to the ground and leaving him bleeding and unconscious as he fled to the airfield; the Jackal cutting him off at the crossroads…
Dune: How do you plan to do it? And where? I want Flash to pay for what he’s done more than anyone, but we can’t just kill him in the middle of the fucking city.
“We.”
Something about the word isn’t right.
Something about this whole thing isn’t right.
Jackal: Don’t worry - we’ll get to that in due time.
Dune: Why are you so eager to help me find him? What’s he done to you?
Jackal: Nothing. It’s the thrill of the hunt, I suppose. Plus, he’s guilty, Dune, and I’m a man of vengeance. I’m the one who helped you seek it when your brother was murdered before you. I’ve had my eye on you for a long time, and now we’ve come to the brink.
Dune: The brink of what?
Jackal: War.
He thinks of what he’s gotten himself into, stuck alone with this man - this THING - whose awe-inducing power is pervaded by a cold, foreboding darkness. Dune had clung to it in his immediate rage, though now it sets off alarm signals in his mind. The Jackal hears them too.
Jackal: Don’t worry, Dune. There won’t be any witnesses. And I’ll save him just for you. I won’t lay a single hand on his poor, sobbing head.
Dune: What do you mean you’ve had your eye on me for a long time? What do you mean you’ve -
The Jackal grabs hold of Dune’s hand, and once more a vision overtakes his experience. It’s similar to the one we saw at the outset, though the Jackal has changed it to his liking. It shows Sean cradling Dune in his arms moments after his parents were killed as the Jackal watches on from afar, never interacting with the brothers.
The vision fades to another - the one we’ve just come out of, though again the Jackal has seen fit to change it so as to keep up the ruse that he’s on Dune’s side. The Jackal stands beside Dune in support as the unpossessed outlaw leader butchers his face then proceeds to murder his older brother. Just as the dogs break through, reality takes hold once more.
But the visions don’t have the same convincing effect as they did the first time, and Dune shoots his head toward the Jackal in fury.
Dune: What the fuck are you?!
Jackal: Shh...no need to shout. I’m right here - right by your side where I’ve always been.
Dune reaches over and grabs him by his collar before yanking him in.
Dune: Tell me now!
Jackal: I’m not the Devil, if that’s what you’re thinking.
Dune: No - you’re my “guardian angel,” right?
Jackal: Now you’re gettin’ it.
Dune: And how so, because you watched my parents die? Because you watched as my face was torn and flayed; watched as my brother died a slow and agonizing death?!
He throws Dune back against the passenger door, nearly shattering the half-open window.
Jackal: No - because I made them die; I made your face into what it’s become...and in so doing I made you into what you’ve become.
An expression of demonic rage comes over the Jackal’s face before he grabs hold of Dune’s hand once more. This time, the visions he shows Dune are the ones that truly unfolded - the ones we were privy too earlier: the murder of his parents and the possession of his brother; the butchering of his face and the murder of his brother…
Reality takes hold, and Dune doesn’t hesitate to strike. Despite the speeding Jaguar, he throws a series of punches that would have otherwise killed a man...and yet none of them make contact with the Jackal. He laughs as he continues driving toward the glass city far off in the distance.
Jackal: We made a deal, Dune. There’s no turning back now!
Dune reaches for him, once more grabbing only air and the smooth leather seat.
Jackal: You said it yourself: Blood; vengeance;death. The most memorable day of Joey Flash’s life has dawned...
Dune grabs hold of the wheel.
Jackal: ...and I’m not talking about his wedding.
With a powerful thrust of his arm, Dune spins the wheel, sending the Jaguar down a steep grade into a ditch. His head slams against the dash, and bright, flashing colors fill his vision upon impact before fading to reveal the driver’s seat is empty. Dune falls out of the car and looks around for the Jackal, but he’s nowhere in sight. A patch of dark woods lies before him, and he makes his way into the trees in hopes of evading him.
“He penetrates the mind, Dune. Then he takes the body.”
The words of John Mullins ring out in his head as he makes his way deeper into the forest...just as the Jackal would have it. Dune begins a 360 degree scan of the trees, though he only gets about halfway before he sees the man who brought him here. The Jackal looks less human than ever now. His eyes are red and gleaming, and his form is a black shadow compared to the pale flesh of before.
Dune remains frozen against his will as the Jackal closes in silently, his feet never touching the ground. When he’s only a few inches from Dune’s half-masked face, he speaks in a hushed, multi-toned voice, each so deep as to almost be inaudible.
Jackal: We had a deal, Dune.
He runs his shadowy fingers down Dune’s mask just as he’d done to his unscarred face years ago - before butchering it and murdering his older brother. He stares through Dune’s icy blue eyes as he speaks a final phrase.
Jackal: Now let me in.
And the screen cuts to black.
Game Changer
John Mullins shuffles through an old file folder, a fresh cup of coffee at his desk. He finds the right one, and he closes the drawer and sets it on his laps as he reaches for his mug. After a sip, he reaches out and fumbles with the mouse. The screensaver fades and he pulls up the audio recording of Dune we heard part of earlier. He presses “play,” and we pick up with the WCF World Champion where we left off.
Dune: You changed the game, Joey.
You did so in your attempts to provoke me by going after the ones I love. I warned you. I told you this would end at WAR if you reigned it in and stayed the course. It was a simple task, Joey - one you would have benefitted greatly from had you completed it - but it proved too much for you.
You just had to go back to the desert; you just had to get another taste.
But for now I’m going to forget about you being so near to Pinky and my unborn child. The man in me says you aren’t so cruel as to harm a hair on her head...but something worse inside me says otherwise - a darkness I can’t quite grasp. But it grows, Joey. Even now as I near the wastes, I can feel it’s cold spreading through me. That’s the kind of man you are: one who inspires hatred and hostilities, the very thing man as a species has had to overcome to reach the heights we’re at today. But then again, war is inevitable on every scale of humanity. There’s always going to be someone whose jealousy, envy, and greed get the best of them; whose monstrous ego can only be ignored by the masses for so long.
That’s you, Joey. I am what you aspire to be - the greatest fighter in the world - and that maddens you to no end. All the time you spent running drugs and sucking dick for the mafia didn’t make you into the overinflated ego maniac you’ve become though. No, you just happened to stumble into a fucking gym and realize you were the best fighter amongst a herd of absolute shit. That’s what started it all. You beat up on some winos and inner city group-home motherfuckers back in the day and BAM greatest fighter in the world.
What were you fighting for in the gym, Joey - your life? No. You weren’t there out of necessity. You enjoyed it. It gave you that boost you needed - that little bit of reassurance that kept you going. In a life that had crumbled to the ground and would have otherwise been washed far out to sea, the fight is all that kept you anchored to the shore.
It’s that same fight that marks the only dividing-line of our clashing worlds. It’s all we have in common. The only difference is, I didn’t grow up fighting for fun; I did so to stay alive.
You’ve done that a few times as well, though not against such an efficient killing machine as me. And make no mistake, Joey: I will fucking kill you if I return home to find my world in ashes, as I know deep down is one of your burning desires. Because in your mind, with my world turned to ruin, your ultimate goal of shining in the spotlight as WCF World Champion becomes that much more attainable…
But you’re wrong, Joey.
How could making me want to straight up end your life in the ring play to your advantage? Because you want my best? You would have gotten that had we kept all this between the ropes you fucking ass. Now you’ve crossed into another realm though. Unlike you, I didn’t learn how to fight in a gym with safety gear and a tampon in. My first fight was my first kill, and I can assure you fighting for the opportunity to live past the next few minutes is far more intense and impactful than fighting not to get punched in your headgear by a hand wrapped in a goddamn pillow. Your training may have made you better, but it didn’t make you the best. It only fooled you into believing so.
What a cruel jest that is...though you’re not alone in falling for it. There’s thousands of you, Joey - guys who came in gunning for the top and just couldn’t pull the fucking trigger. That’s you. You can aim at me all you want. You can blast away my brothers Occulo and Howard Black; my mentor Freeman...even Pinky and my unborn child, if that IS what you’re up to in the desert as I remain powerless aboard this plane...but you’ll never sink the killing blow in me, Flash. You’ll never bring me down to the darkness I’m set to plunge you in at WAR, or sooner if need be. After all, if history is any indication, down is exactly what you get when your truly mediocre ability is exposed for all to see.
After you lost the TV Title to Grime…
The name hangs in the air, and even Mullins can’t help but laugh at the memory.
Dune: ...you sunk into a black pit of depression. You even went so far as to try and change your very nature and demeanor. But somewhere during the process of rewiring yourself to become a decent human being, you got bored and tired of the true chore it had become. That wasn’t you, Joey. Just like that wasn’t you in the ring against Grime...or so you convinced yourself. But that was you, as is the man who’s been struggling ever since.
You peaked, Joey. Does that scare you? It’s the truth. The few months you spent in the company during 2014 were far better to you than any point in 2015 has been as a whole. You built yourself up quite nicely by the turn of the new year, Joey. Funny then how you’ve never been the same since I came around in late December.
Your body hasn’t changed though, and that leaves only one thing that could have: your mind.
I fuck with you, don’t I, Joey? My unrivaled talent, I mean. You rage to see it; you want it to be yours. But it can’t be, and neither can what it’s brought me; what’s been around my waist since May: the WCF World Title. I’m not Natural Ice Beckman - the man every wrestler in this Federation aside from Bobby Cairo failed to stop for over a year before I came along. It only took me five months to topple the hollow giant each and every one of you allowed him to become, and in place of him on the throne there sits the greatest WCF World Champion of all time.
I don’t beg for attention between every match on Slam like naive bitches expect a Champion to do. All I do is go out and dominate my opponent every time I step between the ropes. That’s what a true Champion does. So be my guest if you want to eat sour grapes like every other butt-hurt established guy I came in after and absolutely wrecked in the ring. I can’t help but laugh at that shit. I find it baffling...but then again, I’ve never convinced myself I was better than everyone else only to be proven otherwise time and again. Just look at their names, Joey - go down the roster and say them aloud...but make sure to save yours for last. That’s not to say you’re the best of the fallen...but you’re certainly the most deserving to be among their ranks.
And now you think you’re going to come along and dethrone me, even after seeing all the carnage I’ve left in my wake since January. I’d pity you if I didn’t want to see you broken for it.
Consider it done.
There’s a darkness inside everyone. You’ve summoned mine. Even if I find that those few I hold dear to my heart are safe from your ill-fated touch when I get home, you’ve awoken something deep within that can never be put back and sealed until I’ve been given the chance to let loose on you in the ring.
WAR, Joey - the last stop on what’s been a long and unpleasant ride since the springtime thaw. You’ve had your fun along the way...now it’s time I had mine. And wouldn’t you know it, the sort of fun I get off on as a grown man hasn’t changed since I was a child. While you were shoving G.I. Joe’s up your ass and running drugs for the mafia, I was honing the very skills that enabled me to ascend to the top of WCF Mountain faster than damn near anyone in this company’s great history; to reign from on high more convincingly than any other World Champion before me.
But the darkness is real, Joey, and the one that spreads through me is wrought of your trespasses. You ignored the parameters; you strayed too far from home.
You changed the game, Joey.
Now it’s my turn.
A long silence follows the words, and even in his hatred for Joey Flash, John Mullins sheds a tear as he contemplates Dune's words upon recalling the day of Joey’s wedding. The camera zooms out slowly before it fades into another.
Trapped in the Void
The desert.
Of course. Where else?
But we’re not in the Mojave, or any other desert on Earth for that matter.
Dune walks toward the horizon, though a change has overcome him. The mask we’ve come to associate with him is gone, and in its place is a smooth, unblemished jawline. He’s not entirely unbearable to look upon without the butchered flesh that’s always made him so. In fact he’s quite handsome...but his looks won’t serve him here.
Why?
Because he’s utterly alone - trapped in an infinitely small pocket of his own mind…
Trapped in the void by the Jackal.
“He penetrates the mind, Dune. Then he takes the body.”
The WCF World Champion continues to walk atop the seemingly endless sands, knowing that if he makes it to the horizon everything will be fixed...but such is the spell he’s under. For not only is he wholly unaware of what needs fixing, but he doesn’t even know himself. Nor is he aware of his memory lapse. He just walks...and walks...
We pan over to see he’s making no progress whatsoever. He’s merely walking in place, and as he strides on intently, we begin to zoom out...and out...until he becomes a mere speck atop an unbroken sea of golden sand. Still we zoom out, faster now, and darkness overtakes the sands before we pass through a gleaming, wet barrier.
It’s an eyeball, and the iris is icy blue.
It’s that of Dune, and soon his true face fills the screen. He reaches back and unclasps his mask, slowly revealing the gruesome scars beneath. A sinister smile creeps up his butchered cheeks. It’s a monstrous sight - one only the Jackal could conjure up - and he glares into the lens with devastation in mind as he speaks.
Dune: Here I come, Joey.
And we fade to black.
