Post by God King Dune on Dec 12, 2015 13:05:21 GMT -5
The Spark
A young nurse makes her way down a brightly lit hallway. Her slumped shoulders and frazzled hair display her exhaustion, though her long shift is near an end. She need only check each room on the twelfth floor of St. Alderman’s hospital to make sure the visitors have gone, and she’s free to go. Halfway down and all is well. She smiles at the thought of seeing her four year old son before his bedtime...but her expression drops as she peers into a room through a window on her left.
A man stands beside the bed within, looking down upon the young, comatose woman lying in it. He turns her way, and a shiver runs down her spine. The lower half of his face is a mangled mess of scar tissue, and his icy blue eyes turn hers away before she continues on her route. When she’s out of sight, she lets out a sigh.
“One more, then I’m gone,” she mumbles under her breath, “...if that thing doesn’t kill me first.”
She exits the screen, and we reverse direction slowly until the room comes into view through the window once more.
The unmasked Dune stands beside Pinky, the only woman he ever truly loved, holding her pale hand and staring down at her unflinching face. She looks more dead than alive, which, based on her bi-daily evaluations, is more than likely the case. Her brain activity has all but ceased since a sudden unconscious-outburst which occurred toward the end of November, one which the doctors had no explanation for. But her benefactor didn’t need one. He knew what was to blame for the incident - or rather, WHO was to blame.
The window fades as we zoom in past it, revealing the room and everything in it...
Another man stands in the corner. He wears an impeccable grey suit and the slightest of grins as he looks on at Dune’s naturally solemn expression.
Jackal: What is it they say: better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all?
His voice cuts through the silence with elegant articulation, and he glares irritably as Dune fails to acknowledge him.
Jackal: You HAVE lost her, you know. She’s never coming back.
Dune: So you’ve said.
Jackal: I can show you how it ends for her...but I’m afraid you wouldn’t trust the sight. After all, I showed you none other than Joey Flash blasting her away - her and your child, who lay asleep in the womb - only to reveal to you what truly happened that day on the sands.
Dune’s eyes drop from Pinky’s face to the ground before they flick up toward the Jackal, who smiles in meeting them.
Jackal: Which is worse for you, Dune: the knowledge that I killed your unborn child and put your love to sleep, never to wake up again...or the sight of young Christian Malignaggi drifting out of your hands and away from you atop the precipice of St. -
Dune: You won’t provoke me. I’m not going to lash out at you. What would be the point? I’m powerless against you. It’s over. You’ve won.
Jackal: It’s not over until I say it is.
He walks toward the bed and stops when he’s standing opposite Dune. He turns his attention to Pinky, lifting her other hand into his own.
Jackal: Last time I touched my lips to her skin, she threw a fit and suffered brain-death as a result. Let’s see what happens this time…
Dune scowls with unfathomable pent-up rage, though he’s careful not to let it spill over. “Not now,” he tells himself. “Not after the time you’ve put in to the cause already.”
The Jackal stares up at Dune as he bends down to kiss Pinky’s hand. He touches the skin to his lips and -
He’s gone.
Dune’s scowl fades in favor of a look of confusion. His instincts tell him to look around, but of course the Jackal isn’t there; he’s gone inside, a phenomenon Dune has witnessed countless times by now. Something’s different this time though. For the life of him, Dune doesn’t think the Jackal’s intentions were to take over Pinky’s unconscious vessel...though he hardly has time to react before the beast has reappeared in its human form.
He looks disheveled now, and for the first time, Dune sees the unmistakable mark of fear in the eyes of the Jackal. He knows what Dune has seen the instant he lays eyes on him, and they turn black as he speaks in a deep, multi-toned voice.
Jackal: Time to go.
Dune: I’m ready.
He holds out his hand, staring into the Jackal’s black eyes as he considers what he’s just witnessed - the spark, perhaps, that may one day breathe life into the fire; one capable of killing a timeless being.
The Jackal grabs hold of his outstretched arm, and the two disappear, leaving Pinky alone in the room.
We zoom out, fading back through the window just as the young nurse makes a second appearance. She peers through the window into Pinky’s room to check on who she believes to be the only remaining visitor, and a look of shock comes over her face to see the man with the butchered face is gone. She opens the door slowly, warily, though she finds no one else inside.
Odd as it may be, her exhaustion triumphs, and she shrugs before making her way out of the room, shutting off the lights before she does. She hurries out of the screen, and the camera remains focused on Pinky lying alone in the darkness as the scene fades out.
Jackal on a Stick
The temporary void cuts away in place of a savage sight. A massive rottweiler bears down on a jackal - the canine variety - whose long snout and other similarly wolf-like features do nothing to instill fear in the black dog. Its monstrous snarls fill the desert air, and the jackal yelps as the killer locks its mighty jaws around its neck. The rottweiler shakes it back and forth wildly, until finally the jackal’s body goes limp, and a stream blood seeps down its coat.
Familiar with the feeling of death, the rottweiler lets up and turns before wagging its tail when it catches sight of something off camera. It wiggles its entire hindquarters excitedly and bears the whites of its eyes as it drags the jackal’s carcass toward it.
We zoom out and pan over to reveal the dog’s master, Dune, crouched down and propped up on the balls of his feet. His long, muscle-packed arms reach out for the rottweiler as it draws near. The beast releases its kill and accepts its master’s offer to give his ears and belly a good rub. With a final pat on the ribs, Dune stands, scruffing the jackal. It dangles limply in his hand as he and the rottweiler make their way over to a dune-buggy that’s parked nearby.
We cut to a shot of Dune’s scarred face as he speaks.
Dune: Are you happy now, Gemini? I did exactly what I said I was going to do to you - beat you to within an inch of your life in front of millions - but for reasons I’ll get to later, I never got the chance to pin your shoulders for three. So, thanks to the kindness and generosity of Seth Lerch, I get to do it all over again this week. Of course, this time I’ll be finishing the job myself.
I’ll ask again, Gemini: are you happy now? How could you be? Only a fool would be glad to face me one on one two weeks in a row. Only a fool would dare step toe to toe with me after being bloodied and broken mere days before. Only a fool, Gemini...but after all, what are you if not one of those?
He reaches down and grabs a leather satchel out of the buggy. After opening it and checking over the contents within, he turns and makes his way toward some brush.
Dune: Gemini Battle - WCF World Champion…
Jesus fucking Christ.
Is this what it’s come to in the WCF? Have we truly dipped so low as to allow for even the possibility of this happening?
Yes. Yes we have.
He throws the jackal carcass down and places the satchel by his feet. Bending down and reaching inside, he pulls out some flint and steel.
Dune: Or rather, you all have. I’ll admit, things were stale toward the end of my reign as World Champion, what with only one legitimate threat to my Title - that being the now-irrelevant Joey Flash. Were it not for him, I would’ve sat at the throne atop WCF Mountain for as long as I pleased. But things don’t always go our way...do they, Gemini? You’d know more than me. For virtually the entirety of my WCF career I’ve had total control over my environment, despite who found themselves unfortunate enough to dawdle into my path. I dealt with each swiftly and precisely.
He turns away from the camera and begins to collect the brush into a pyramidic pile. Once satisfied, he flicks the flint and steel together, creating sparks that rain down on the kindling. Within seconds a fire is born, and Dune nurses it with his breath before it begins to consume the pile. He stacks more on top of it. Soon the fire is raging, and Dune grabs hold of the jackal carcass.
Dune: I even dealt with you, Gemini. You stood your ground the first time, but you knelt at my feet and begged for mercy the second time around. Don’t be ashamed though. You’re in good company.
He reaches down into the satchel and retrieves a large blade whose edge is razor sharp. Dangling the jackal by its feet, his icy blue eyes flick back toward the screen.
Dune: This third meeting didn’t go as planned - didn’t go as it should have. That’s fine. But now, Gemini...now I bleed you out.
He turns and drags the blade down the jackal’s belly and up through its throat, releasing a stenching-assortment of blood and innards that spill out wet and noisily onto the barren desert floor below.The rottweiler immediately investigates the foul, fragrant pile, though he backs off as Dune gives him a nudge with his boot. He shakes the jackal by its hind legs as he continues.
Dune: Here you are, Gemini. Look at you now. You’re fucking dead and all bled-out. You’ll never be World Champion so long as I’m around. Is that so difficult for you to understand? I would have thought being present during my reign would have given you a bit of perspective on things; that you’d know better than to imagine yourself on the same level as me.
You’re not, Gemini.
You never will be.
I don’t give a goddamn if you hung with me to a draw our first time out. That’s surely what’s gotten you so worked up in thinking you have what it takes to defeat me. Well if last week wasn’t proof enough that I’m the superior of the two of us, I take no qualms in laying it down straight for you again. Were it not for the man I’m going to wreck at One, Wade Moor, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. So be sure to thank him when you’re laid out in the hospital alongside his former running mate, Jared Holmes, or The Sharks, or whatever new moniker he’s got for himself this week.
You don’t submit easily, Gemini...but Grayson does. After all, he allowed you to completely take over his life for months on end. That’s the mark of a weak-minded man, and those aren’t the kind who stand a chance against me.
You had a....well, you had a run. I’d say it was a good run, but despite my often savage nature, I’m not one to tell a lie. You had a run, but now it’s at an end. And though you may not want to hear it, I can assure you I’m not the only one who’ll be saying good riddance after I put you down once and for all this Sunday.
He shakes the jackal once more, and a few remaining giblets of who knows what fly out before he sets to work on skinning the animal. It doesn’t take long, and soon he’s crafted a rudimentary spit, onto which he places the fresh meat. Crouching once more on the balls of his feet a few yards away, his fire-lit eyes flick toward the screen.
Dune: Two weeks, Beach Krew. That’s how long it’s been since I demanded the WCF from you. I’ll have it back either way, but it would have served each one of you well if you’d have followed my simple instructions. You’ll soon find I’m not such a merciful ruler. In fact, after I’ve reclaimed my World Title from the lowly Wade Moor - after I’ve severed the head from the self-proclaimed monster that you all come together to form like some ass-clown Megazord of the deep - my first order of business will be to dismantle the rest of you.
What started with Jared Holmes continued with Oblivion. But I’m tired of playing games. I want the Champ - I want Wade fucking Moor - and I won’t rest until he’s back in the depths where he belongs.
That belt makes a fine weapon, doesn’t it, Wade? I never had the need to use it during my reign, but as soon as it hit the back of my head, I knew damn well I’d just had my first reunion with the gold. More importantly though, I knew who was wielding it. Thankfully for everyone - yourself included, because I know deep down you fear the heights you've achieved due to the sheer drop of the inevitable fall from grace - you won’t have to hold onto the top spot much longer.
As for the rest of you - Johnny Rabid, Kyle Kemp, Andre Aquarius, and whoever the fuck else there is - three words should suffice: in due time. With Joey Flash gone and no one else left who’s so foolish as to oppose me, there’s none I’d rather spend my time dismantling and burying in the sands far beneath the waves. I’d -
Dune looks up as his rottweiler comes sprinting toward him. In gazing at the fire and speaking of his enemies, he hadn’t even noticed the beast had wandered off though. The dog stops just before reaching him and begins to signal toward a slight dropoff not too far off. Dune makes his way toward it, the dog leading him by a hair. Just before they reach the lip, Dune crouches down as to remain unseen.
In peering over, though, he sees a familiar sight: a man in a hooded robe who he’s longed to see since visiting Pinky at St. Alderman’s with the Jackal a few days before; since witnessing the bizarre event that unfolded as the Jackal touched his lips to Pinky’s hand for a second time.
He stands and calls out.
Dune: Freeman!
The robed man spins, revealing the familiar, aged face and greying beard of Dune’s mentor. He draws a gun from his side and takes aim. It’s a desperate move, what with Dune having the higher ground, but he too has been searching for Dune, and by now he’s a desperate man.
Freeman: Horse tranquilizer - that's what this is! Now am I gonna have to let this course through your veins to get you to go easy, kid? Because I will, and you know it!
But even as he says it, the answer is spelled out on Dune’s maskless face. All the same, Dune shakes his head “no.”
The two stare at each other for a long moment, and just as Dune’s butchered lips open to speak, the scene cuts to black.
