Malignance (Parts I & II)
Dec 23, 2015 21:26:31 GMT -5
Bonnie Blue, Joey Flash, and 3 more like this
Post by God King Dune on Dec 23, 2015 21:26:31 GMT -5
Malignance:
- Passionately and relentlessly malevolent; aggressively malicious
- Tending to infiltrate and terminate fatally if left untreated
A full moon lights up the atmosphere high above a dense layer of clouds. We fall toward them slowly, and in passing through, we’re met with a flurry of snowflakes. One drifts past the screen, and its intricate, crystalline structure magnifies as we follow its dizzying descent.
A bird’s eye view reveals a cluster of several dozen golden points of light that shine amidst a far-reaching black plane. They give light to a large, isolated facility, and we see them through the symmetrical gaps within the snowflake. Suddenly though, as if the air were on fire, beads of water begin to form on the magnified snowflake’s sharp, icy lines. The beads grow and spread, until finally the transformation is complete, and all that’s left is a drop of rain.
It falls and falls, and as it does the lights grow brighter...brighter...
A road comes into view. It rushes toward the screen, though just before the raindrop splashes against the curb, something else intercepts it...
We cut to the half-masked face of Dune, whose icy blue eyes gleam through the translucent curtain of rain. His face is void of expression as he walks along the edge of the road.
*CLANK*
The metallic sound rings out every few seconds, and in zooming out slowly, we see the culprit: a black crowbar, 4 feet long and 1 ½. inches in diameter. The heavy steel smacks the ground each time Dune flicks his left wrist. In his right hand he holds another metallic object - bomb-like, to the untrained eye - though in truth it’s a generator with an opposite purpose.
*CLANK*
A still shot from the rear shows him striding away from us and toward the front gate of St. Alderman’s hospital, where his true love lies comatose within. Visiting hours have long since expired...yet all the same, with two minutes left before the stroke of midnight on Christmas morning, Dune has arrived.
*CLANK*
And we cut away.
Two security guards sit in a small hub just outside the front gates. Their eyes are glued to a small TV that sits on the counter in front of them. Conveniently enough, a commercial for One is playing, and the guards converse as a montage of Dune and Joseph Malignaggi’s long-standing feud plays out on the screen.
Guard 1: Dune’s gonna get killed on Sunday.
Guard 2: Bullshit. Dune’s unstoppable -
Guard 1: Until Joey Flash enters the equation.
*CLANK*
Guard 2: Dune conquered the WCF. All Flash did was beat Dune.
Guard 1: Exactly.
Guard 2: No, that’s -
*CLANK*
The guards turn toward the sound, and their eyes widen to see none other than the Sandman himself less than ten yards away and closing fast. He calls out.
Dune: Open the gate!
Guard 1: I’m sorry, but visiting hours are -
Dune reaches the half open window and glares at the guard as he cuts him off.
Dune: Open the gate. Now.
Guard 2: We can’t do that...we’d lose our jobs!
Dune: Better those than your lives.
Guard 1: Wha -
Everything goes silent as we cut to a security-camera feed of the small hub. Chaos reigns in black and white on screen. Dune shatters the windowpane in front of the guards with one swing of his crowbar before making his way around to the door. He kicks it in, and the guards trip over glass fragments as they rush for the freedom that lies beyond the shard-lined window frame...but they’re not quick enough. Dune slams the steel bar into one of their heads, and he chokes out the other before tossing him to the floor. He presses a button to open the gate, then turns around and makes to leave…
But just before he steps back outside, his head turns toward the screen. The haunting silence pervades as he stares at it for a moment. Then, without warning, he swings the heavy steel crowbar with one arm, destroying the camera and replacing the feed with static…
...but it doesn’t last long. And as it fades, Dune appears before us again. He paces back and forth slowly in a dim, empty, four-cornered room. He doesn’t bother stopping or looking toward the screen as his voice cuts through the silence.
Dune: “How’s it going to end?”
You remember asking me that on the sands, don’t you, Joey? Well I’ve got a question of my own for you:
How’d we get here?
Have you put any thought into it at all? Or have the interwoven moments we’ve shared since the Spring been flung to the wayside in favor of those that occurred on a single day in the Fall? Has the shroud of death blinded you from the truth? Of course it has...but you were blind to it before then, even as it were.
Not me though. Despite the unearthly terrors we’ve both been haunted by - BOTH being the key word, Joey - I’m in the right here. I know what’s what. In short, I didn’t kill your son, and you’re a damned fool for believing I did, what with you having met the one who threw Christian from the precipice.
How’s that for acknowledging the elephant in the room?
I didn’t kill your son, Joey...but I know who did. And here’s the worst part:
So do you.
You KNOW he did it. You’ve always known. He murdered my unborn child right in front of your eyes in the desert - how could you be so blind?!
For many hours I’ve brooded over that question - most of them while hunting Allegri assassins you and your cunt mafia-boss wife sent after me. They found themselves entirely out of their element in the desert, especially in those fleeting moments before death as they begged for mercy. They got none. They died slowly and painfully, because I had no pity for them. And it was your foolishness - your willful blindness to the truth - that inspired my pitiless wrath.
I’ve come to the conclusion that you’re afraid, Joey Flash. You’re afraid to accept the world as it’s presented to you. You’re afraid that, if you finally give in and allow the lesser-half of your psyche to recognize that the Jackal killed your boy, you’ll never have any hope of redemption. Because after all, how do you kill a demon? And that is what you’re after at One, right, Joey - redemption? A deathmatch - how clever. You know it’ll take more than what you’re made of to get the best of me again. You know I’ve got the high ground. Of course I do. Because I don’t fear the truth, nor do I disregard it as a consequence.
Death doesn’t blind me as it does you. In fact, its ravages as a youth were the best thing for me. They’ve allowed me to become the dominant force I am today. Meanwhile, you’ve allowed them to chew you up and spit you out. You’re broken, Joey - in aiming for me, the Jackal hit you hardest - but this Sunday at One, I’m going to finish what the beast started.
He stops, and his half-masked face and icy blue eyes finally shoot toward the screen as he continues.
Dune: It’ll all be over soon, Joey. What you started by singling me out as the biggest threat to the dominance you would never achieve ends with me dominating you inside the ring. After all, that’s where it began, and that’s where it was supposed to have remained. If I’d had my way, it would have. But you just couldn’t handle that. You had to poke and prod and toy with me outside of the squared circle. It was to your undoing, you know. What good came of you lurking in the shadows at my back, making me the focal point of your life? It did nothing aside from pit you against the most dangerous man in the Federation as well as an extra-dimensional presence who’d been haunting me from birth; the same who would wind up killing your four year old son.
Needless to say, you picked the wrong man to fuck with in more ways than one. You’ll notice that, while Gemini Battle and the entirety of Beach Krew have felt my wrath in recent weeks, no one on the roster aside from you has suffered at the hands of the Jackal. That’s not a coincidence. There’s a reason he chose you to crush alongside me. There’s a reason you’re down in a hole, and you’ve got no one to blame but yourself.
I may have unknowingly lead you down the dark path we tread upon today, but it’s you who followed. You could have turned back. You could have saved yourself; you could have saved your son. For fuck’s sake, we could have just had a goddamned wrestling match - which is all I ever wanted out of you - but that’s not what happened. You had to come to the desert - you had to step over that line in the sand - and on the other side, you were made to be just as helpless to save my unborn child and the woman I love as I was to save your son that day in the church...
He turns away from the screen and takes a few steps toward the far wall. With his back toward us, he continues.
Dune: He took her from me. He took them both. My love and my unborn child, gone in an instant. And you were there. You were right beside her.
He took her from me...
But I took her back.
The darkness in the room deepens and spreads, until his hulking form has faded entirely, and blackness fills the screen.
It cuts away as we see Dune looking through a window inside the familiar halls of St. Alderman’s hospital. The overhead lights are off, but flashing emergency lights illuminate the corridor. With each flash we’re given a glimpse of what Dune’s eyes remain locked on: a pretty young woman with bright Pink hair, the same hair that became her namesake long ago.
Pinky lies in a deeply comatose state within, closer to death than ever before and hooked up to a machine that acts as her only lifeline.
Dune tries to open the door but, as expected, it’s locked. He sets the heavy generator down and jabs the steel crowbar into the small crack between the door and its frame. Wedging it in, he pushes against it with all his might, letting out a deep wail before the door finally gives way. He drops the crowbar and throws open the door, bringing the generator inside with him. He wastes no time in hooking Pinky’s life support machine into it, and soon he’s making his way out of the room, pushing Pinky’s wheeled-bed alongside the machine that keeps her alive.
The emergency elevator is the only one large enough to accommodate them, and once inside Dune stares down at his only true love. She’s so still - so lifeless - and he becomes lost in her face as he looks upon it...but only before the doors reopen on the ground floor of the hospital. Two guards and the hospital’s director stand waiting for him.
Guard: Hands up! Step away from the patient!
Dune doesn’t acknowledge them, pushing his precious cargo past the three men before one grabs his arm. In a flash, Dune throws a devastating series of punches, knocking the guard out cold. The other makes to fire his weapon, though Dune grabs hold of him by his collar and belt, lifting him high overhead before bringing his spine down on top of a raised knee.
Now only the hospital director remains, and he quivers with fear as he follows Dune toward the exit at the front of the lobby.
Director: What are you doing, Dune?
Dune: I’m taking her home.
Director: But these aren’t the proper channels! This is in direct violation of protocol, and should you -
Dune: My money has kept her alive long enough. It’s my turn to care for her. I’ll send you a check for the damages.
Director: You’re being foolish! Our doctors have told you time and again: she’ll never wake up!
Dune snarls before shooting out and grabbing the director’s head between his arm, planting him into the hard floor with a vicious DDT. He rises as the director lies motionless on the floor and continues toward the exit.
Once outside, the sound of distant sirens greets us. In looking out, a line of emergency vehicles with red and blue lights flashing can be seen heading toward the hospital. Far out in front though is another vehicle, of which all we can see is its headlights. Soon though, we see it’s a large white van, and it turns a corner and plows through the now-closed front gates, speeding toward Dune and Pinky with reckless abandon. It comes to a screeching halt right in front of them, and the driver hops out. He wears a hooded robe and a greying beard, and his face is all too familiar.
Freeman: Get her in, quick!
The two men rush to get Pinky into the back of the van. It doesn’t take long, and Freeman hops back in the driver’s seat and peels off with Dune, Pinky, and the generator-powered life support machine in the rear.
The line of emergency vehicles closes on the only road leading into St. Alderman’s, but Freeman doesn’t drive their way. Instead, he speeds toward the pitch black desert, whose shadows engulf the van upon breaking through a chain-link fence.
We cut to a high, rising shot from the front of St. Alderman’s, showing the emergency vehicles arriving too late as Dune, Freeman, and Pinky escape into the night. After a few seconds, the shot fades to black.
FLASHBACK
Dune: I’m bringing her home.
Sunlight scatters the dark in an instant. Before us is the maskless Dune in the days leading up to his most recent match against Gemini Battle. His butchered face is partially shaded by the midday sun, and the deep, jagged valleys that cover his mouth and jawline pulse and sway as he continues.
Dune: But I need your help, Freeman.
We cut away, revealing Dune’s mentor, who he’s only seen one other time since the end of September and the tragic string of events leading up to WAR. The aging man lowers his hood before he replies.
Freeman: Before I do anything for you, I want to know what happened.
Dune: It’s a long story.
Freeman: Well then...if you want my help, you’d best start from the beginning.
Dune stares back at his old friend - the only one who’d remained by his side during and throughout his rise to power in the WCF; the only one who remained by his side through thick and thin outside the ring - and after a long moment, he walks toward him. Freeman stands his ground, remembering their previous encounter, which saw him knocked unconscious. This time though, instead of attacking him, Dune wraps his long, muscle-packed arms around his old friend and pulls him close. The two embrace, nothing withheld, before they make their way beneath a shaded overhang.
They sit staring out at the desert expanse as Dune begins the tale.
He tells him of how his rottweiler began acting strange one night; how the beast attacked him and sprinted off into the desert...
He tells him of how he was made to believe it was Joseph Malignaggi who blew a hole in the side of the Double X, the bar run by Freeman’s old and now dead friend, Chief, and his daughter, Pinky; how he was made to believe that Joseph Malignaggi murdered his unborn child inside his lover’s womb thereafter...
He tells him of the Jackal, and all the irreparable harm the beast has caused him.
When he reaches the devastating climax of the tale - the murder of young Christian Malignaggi, which the Jackal orchestrated to terrible perfection - Freeman interjects.
Dune: I tried to save him, but it was too late. I was trapped inside myself, and when he -
Freeman: Where is he now? The Jackal, I mean.
Dune: I don’t know. He could be anywhere at anytime. That’s why I didn’t come to you sooner. I didn’t want to put you in harm’s way.
Freeman: That’s where I’ve been all my life - what kind of bullshit is that?
Dune: You don’t know what it’s like, Freeman. When he takes over…
The two go quiet, and when the moment passes Freeman speaks up.
Freeman: You’re still wrestling though.
Dune: The WCF is all I have.
Freeman: Gemini Battle for the second time in as many weeks...gonna put him down this time?
Dune: He’ll need a miracle to take the #1 Contender’s spot.
Freeman: Miracles happen everyday. And Joey Flash, or Joseph Malignancy or whatever it is...are you keeping tabs on him?
Dune: He wants to kill me, Freeman; of course I am. But he shouldn’t be back anytime soon, not after what I put his body through.
Freeman furrows his brow, though he doesn’t inquire as to Dune’s vicious, ultra-violent behavior of late. Instead, another moment of silence passes between them. This time, it’s Dune’s deep voice that fills the void.
Dune: Will you help me bring her home, Freeman?
Freeman nods.
Freeman: Of course. When?
Dune: I’m having everything prepared as we speak. The machines should be fully operational in a few weeks on Christmas Eve. That night, we’ll bring her back.
Freeman: To where?
Dune: You’ll remember when I show you.
Freeman raises an eyebrow, though before he can give it much thought, Dune continues.
Dune: I know how to kill him.
Freeman: Flash?
Dune: No.
Freeman: Ah…
He nods in understanding, and after a moment of thought, he continues.
Freeman: But how?
Dune turns to Freeman, though just before he can explain, the scene fades out, giving way to another.
Back in the present day, the Jackal appears before us. He wears a grey suit and a troubled expression, only one of which is familiar to us. He walks down a snow-covered sidewalk on a cold and lonely side street in some unknown place.
Jackal: That bitch.
He mutters to himself as the snow crunches beneath his still-unblemished shoes. He tries to shake the thought, but the woman’s bright pink hair remains ingrained in his mind’s eye.
Jackal: That fucking bitch!
The echo of his falsely-human voice carries around the corner, where it blends with the soft notes of a choir that greet our ears. In turning the corner, the Jackal stops to look upon the group of young carolers who sing just before dawn on Christmas morning
“...Mother and Child...Holy infant so tender and mild...Sleep in heavenly peace...Sleep in heavenly peace…”
The Jackal scowls as the thought of the mother he allowed to live comes back to the forefront of his mind in full force. Without hesitation, he makes for the children, his full intent being to murder every last one...but he stops after only a few yards…
Jackal: Why should they suffer for her sins?
But he knows why: they’re an easier target. And he knows this because of what happened the last time he visited Pinky with Dune at St. Alderman’s hospital. Something happened when he took over her deeply comatose body...something that had never happened to him before…
He found himself trapped inside her mind; trapped inside a chamber of torment.
The hows and whys make him steam with anger, as does his indecisiveness. On the one hand, he wants nothing more than to end Pinky’s life. On the other though...his very humanlike arrogance won’t allow him to let this go. In his otherworldly mind, he must prove that this mere mortal hasn’t gotten the better of him; in there, he can’t go on until he’s proven he’s the superior being.
Jackal: I am.
He reassures himself before the carolers and the streets around him cut away.
The next moment, he stands inside a ravaged hospital room. He remains invisible to investigators and hospital staff alike, who move about all around him as he stares wide-eyed at the spot where Pinky’s bed once lay.
In seeing her gone, a rage unlike he’s ever known comes over him, and his eyes shrink into a glare as a single word issues on his breath.
Jackal: Dune.
And he disappears before we cut to black.
Deep beneath the surface of the Mojave Desert, a multi-million dollar facility that’s been abandoned for over five months runs at full power again. A small team of well-paid, highly trained technicians finished their long, arduous installations less than 24 hours ago, and now, as the sun rises on Christmas morning, Dune and Freeman stand in front of a technological marvel. We don’t see it though - only the glow its lights cast on both men.
Freeman: I didn’t think it was possible.
Dune: I know. Did you see him before I pulled the plug - the clone who was in here?
Freeman: No...no, but I saw the others.
Dune: Of course you did. You were with me the night the escapee came knocking at the door.
Freeman: Dr. G and the clones...goddamn, was that an ordeal! But I tell you what, Dune - I miss those days.
Dune: They were good days.
Silence between them, before Freeman pats Dune on the back.
Freeman: I’m gonna have a look around...you know, for nostalgia’s sake.
He flashes a wink and walks out of the spherical, metallic room. As he leaves, we pan over, revealing what Dune is gazing at: a large, glass-encased cylinder. It’s hollow save for Pinky, who drifts on the air inside as if it were water...
What was once designed to nurse the clones of Dune to life by a brilliant madman by the name of Dr. G has been transformed into an anti-gravity chamber designed to relieve Pinky’s comatose body of any exterior stress.
Dune turns his attention away from Pinky and walks over to a side door nearby. He steps through to a vast, cavernous hall, and from the balcony he speaks.
Dune: And now we wait…
His half-masked face shoots toward the screen, and he glares as he continues.
Dune: Don’t ask what for when it comes to you, Joey - you know all too well.
Have you given any thought to what I asked you before - about how we got to where we are today? I should hope so, but in truth it’s all too likely that you disregarded every word I said to you. That’s fine work, Joey. Good form, as always - missing the big picture that’s displayed right in front of you.
Don’t mind my temper. I’ve lost all patience for you. You make me sick, Joey Flash. Call yourself Joseph Malignaggi to the masses all you want. Let the WCF Faithful put their coppers in your pockets as they donate to your selfish, attention-seeking child-fund. They may see you as their tragic hero now, but that’s only because they’re just as willfully blind as you are. However hard you try to paint yourself as a sympathetic warrior of the people, we both know that’s not the case. You’re a lying, scheming sack of shit who they wanted nothing more than to see beaten to a pulp and injured beyond repair, at least for a time. And that’s exactly what I gave them.
And what did they do in response?
They turned on me in favor of you.
They claim to want to see more and more of the old ultra-violence, but when I deliver just that they boo and hiss and get their panties in a wad. So I gave them more. I put their lives in danger on Slam when I tore the house down with an goddamn axe. I took out Jared Holmes, and when I did they weren’t sure if they should cheer or boo...those miserable fucks. I beat Gemini Battle to within an inch of his life twice in two weeks...and were it not for you appearing from the shadows like old times and repeatedly cracking that bat over my skull, I’d be on my way to becoming a two-time World Champion after defeating Wade Moor at One. Now though...now I’ve got to settle for ending your career once and for all.
Don’t mistake my meaning, Joey. I want to hurt you. I want to end your career, but I could have done it anytime after winning back the Title. Dismantling you and forcing you into an early retirement has been the goal all along, ever since we started this in the Spring. Your old pal Seth Lerch allowed you to avoid me for months in the ring...but, by WAR, there was nowhere left for you to hide. You may have won the belt off me that night, Joey, but the fact that you could only hold it for mere minutes after my nearly five-month reign of dominance tells a tale of its own. And where have you been since? Forcing out tears in the corner, I imagine...in between run-ins where you save the world from the big bad Dune. You haven’t wrestled a match in almost three months, and all because of the ungodly punishment I put you through.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised at your inconsistency. It’s one of the traits that’s come to define you since I joined the ranks nearly a year ago to the day. When I came along, you were TV Champ and rolling through the competition. But as soon as my tour of annihilation commenced, you dropped off the map, only to resurface a couple weeks before WAR and squeak past a few men more your size. And I’m not talking about your frame, Joey; I’m talking about the size of your mind - the size of the fight you bring to the ring.
You’ll have some extra fuel when you square off against me though, won’t you? In your supreme foolishness, you’ll be coming at me with the mistaken belief that I murdered your son. It’s almost as if some higher power has attempted to level the playing field for us, because a scorned parent’s wrath is exactly the kind of thing you’ll need if you hope to pose a challenge for me at One.
He turns away from the screen and walks over to a flight of steel-grated stairs nearby. He takes a seat on the top stair, and looks out over the cavernous expanse as he continues.
Dune: Scorned - remember when that’s what you thought you were, Joey - back when you fancied yourself a taller, stronger pillar than all the rest in that pathetic supergroup that died off thanks largely to my in-ring efforts? Well if you were scorned back then, what does that make you now?
Who gives a shit. You’re old news, Flash. You’re a bust. You’re the fast starter who fizzled out and faded away thanks to - you guessed it - yours truly.
I’m a force more powerful than you’d care to acknowledge. Like any powerful force, I bring change to everything I touch. And when it comes to the WCF as a whole, what have I done here if not change its very landscape?
I ushered in a new era, one that saw the old guard and new bloods alike fail to slow my rapid ascent or dethrone me once I inevitably claimed my rightful place atop WCF Mountain. From the inside looking out, I can’t imagine what it must have been like for the rest as they watched me prove my worth as the best in the business each time I stepped foot in the ring. And in seeing my dominance - in knowing they couldn’t compete - they dropped like flies before me.
I pinned your unpinnable partner Jonny Fly and decimated the untouchable World Champion, Natural ICE Beckman, two figureheads of WCF history and men who ran rampant over all those who stood in their path in the years leading up to my arrival. And all the others I ran out of the WCF as World Champion - where are they now? Gone, and all because they couldn’t defeat me when the biggest prize of all was on the line. Well unlike them - and you, in large part - I’m still here, Joey, and I won’t rest until I can add your name to the list of those who have fallen by my hand.
But just like you, that’s old news. A new year looms on the horizon, one I’m set to dominate equally if not more convincingly than I did in my rookie campaign. Who’s going to stand in my way this time out - Beach Crew? I’ll break apart the waves they’ve thrown up in their infancy and render them obsolete come One next year - mark my words. Will it be some upstart who’s still yet to join? Or perhaps a legend set to return at any minute now...no and no.
Will it be you, Joey?
The musing of a fool. How could you possibly hope to keep me from reigning supreme over the WCF for back to back years when you won’t even be around to try?
“How’s it going to end?,” you asked. It doesn’t end well for you. It doesn’t end pretty - at least not for the faint of heart. It doesn’t end how you’d like. This isn’t a fairy tale where the unlikely hero lives happily ever after. Ours is a Roman tragedy, and in the end, the people leave with their hearts crushed after witnessing greatness - however foul they may perceive it - prevail over good. And when the end comes - when you’re on the brink of collapse and I’ve got you crucified high in the air for the all the world to see - then you’ll know the answer to your question. How’s it gonna end? Do I really have to spell it out for you, Joey?
Sandstorm.
One. Two. Three.
He stands, and we cut away as he turns and enters the room where Pinky floats in the anti-gravity chamber. Once inside he looks around, as if expecting someone. When he sees that no one’s there, his eyes flick up at the screen and he continues.
Dune: What do you think I’ve been doing while you were away, Joey - twiddling my thumbs and looking bashful in the corner? I should hope not. You were there the night I sent tsunami-like ripples through Beach Crew’s ranks, destroying one of their top men. That was before I got my hands on you and took you out of action for the second time this year. For fuck’s sake, based on our history, the only logical expectation going into this match is that you’ll be out another couple months as a result.
You’re a scavenging little bitch, Joey. You’re the vulture of the WCF. I’m the one who’s done the hard work. I’m the one who’s done the heavy lifting. I’ve been the workhorse of the WCF from the start. Meanwhile you were busy playing grabass with yourself and intentionally avoiding the stiff competition I was putting down in the ring week in and week out. That’s pussy shit, and it maddens me to no end that I dropped the World Title - something I busted my ass to win and retain - to a scavenging motherfucker like Joey Flash.
A wrong’s been committed between us. I’m not talking about your dead son either. Nor am I talking about my dead child, who never even saw the light of day...but I will say all this talk of dead children makes me want to unleash on you all the more. You caused this, Joey. It’s your fault. If that isn’t clear as day to you, stick around and I’ll lay it all out for you.
No...the wrong I’m referring to is your victory over me at WAR. I’m not a man who allows himself to be wronged without taking action. It’s ironic, because that’s exactly what you think you’re doing in targeting me at One. We want to hurt each other for different reasons, don’t we, Joey? There’s you - the father seeking vengeance on an innocent man, who in turn looks like a complete ass for not facing his problems head on. And there’s me - the man who’s not afraid to face what he fears.
You may not fear me, Joey, but that’s just one of many reasons why you’re doomed to fail at One. What you do fear is something else though...and don’t lie to yourself in denying it. You turn your face to me because, though I’m a merciless killer and the one true monster of the WCF, you’ve known the Jackal’s touch.
You’re a coward...but I’m not. The Jackal’s done his damndest to break me down into ruins. He thinks he’s done it, Joey. He thinks he’s won. Just like you, I suppose. You’re nothing compared to him though. You know that. Think of it this way - you spent an afternoon with him; I’ve spent the better part of two months with him. He’s more powerful than even you can imagine. But now the long awaited hour is at hand, and the end is finally in sight. Now, I need only -
He cuts off when he feels a presence at his back. Sure enough, he turns to see Freeman standing in the entranceway. The old man wears a strange grin, and his eyes stare through to Dune’s soul as he speaks.
Freeman: You need only what?
Dune: Where’ve you been?
Freeman: Around…
An uncharacteristically sinister smile comes over his face as he steps through the doorway, though it fades and his eyes go wide to see the anti-gravity chamber with Pinky suspended on the air inside.
Dune sees all this, understanding exactly what’s happened to his old friend and mentor.
Dune: Leave him out of this.
But the Jackal pays him no mind.
Freeman: You brought her here...how did you -
His expression goes sour as he cuts himself off. He begins walking toward the chamber, when suddenly the body of another man steps out the front of Freeman’s, leaving the old man cursing from his knees.
The Jackal stands in front of the chamber, staring into the face of the one he’s after.
Jackal: There you are...
Dune’s eyes flick over to Freeman, and they share a knowing glance. The Jackal’s eyes remain fixed on Pinky as he continues.
Jackal: I’m sorry I have to do this, Dune. I’ve strung you along for far too long. This ends now. Her time’s up.
He pauses, and Dune senses the fear that flows through the hesitant Jackal. After a long moment, he utters a hauntingly familiar phrase in a deep, multi-toned voice
Jackal: Let me in.
And the screen cuts to black.
FLASHBACK cont.
Desert sunlight scatters the darkness. We pick back up with Dune and Freeman where we left off mid-conversation earlier. The two sit in the shade beneath a rocky overhang, and a feeling of deja vu persists as they converse.
Dune: I know how to kill him.
Freeman: Flash?
Dune: No.
Freeman: Ah…
He nods in understanding, and after a moment of thought, he continues.
Freeman: But how?
Dune turns his maskless face toward his mentor, and the deja vu fades as we enter into uncharted waters.
Dune: Her.
Freeman furrows his brow before catching on.
Freeman: Pinky?
Dune: Something happened the last time I was at St. Alderman’s. The Jackal was there too, and when he touched her hand to his lips, he vanished. I’ve seen it happen before, of course, but he didn’t mean to get sucked in, Freeman; he didn’t mean to possess her.
Freeman: How can you be sure?
Dune: I’m not - not entirely - but more than anything it was his reaction upon reappearing a few seconds later that gives me reason to believe.
Dune turns away from Freeman and toward the sprawling desert plane before continuing.
Dune: I got a call from the hospital toward the end of November. They told me Pinky had had some sort of...outburst...in the midst of her coma. They had no explanation for me, but I didn’t need one. It was him, Freeman; it was the Jackal. And when I asked him about it after he appeared to me that night, he confirmed that he’d been there that day. He told me that, as he touched her hand to his lips, she began to writhe and scream in pain.
He turns back to Freeman.
Dune: But I don’t think it was pain she felt. I think that, somewhere deep in her own mind, she felt the touch of the Jackal - the beast that slayed the child who grew in her belly - and was trying to get out; trying to seize him.
Freeman shakes his head in disbelief as the troubling prospect takes root.
Freeman: It’s not logical. It doesn’t make any -
Dune: It makes perfect sense. The key to it all is that she doesn’t exist outside her mind like the rest of us. The rules are different for her. Once he’s inside, SHE’S in control, not him...
If you only had a reference, Freeman. You don’t know what it’s like when the Jackal takes hold. You’re conscious in there - trapped while he does as he pleases. You’ll never understand the true meaning of helplessness until you’ve felt his touch. But all it did for Pinky that first time around was alert her to his presence. And so she waited, and when he came back, she knew. She knew...and she was ready for him.
Freeman: So then, in bringing her back to...wherever it is we’re bringing her back to...you’re using her as bait for the Jackal, is that what you’re getting at?
Dune: Yes and no. The Jackal has easy access to her wherever she is. BUT, if I’m right about this, and the Jackal finds himself trapped inside her mind once more, I need her in my care. I can’t trust what the doctors would do should he break free of her control and use her body for some foul purpose.
To be honest though, I’m not sure what’ll happen as a result. Perhaps he’ll find his way out with ease as he did before. But something tells me this next time is going to be different.
Freeman: Well..if you’re actually right, he likely fears the mere thought of her. What makes you think there’s even going to BE a next time?
Dune: His arrogance is unrivaled. I saw the confusion and fear on his face after she got the better of him that day at the hospital, and knowing him, it isn’t sitting well. He won’t allow her to have the last laugh. He’ll try to take possession of her again - I have no doubt - if only to prove his superiority over the one lowly human who managed to get the best of him.
The two look out at the blue sky and golden sands as a silence ensues between them. After a few seconds, Dune’s voice cuts through it.
Dune: I’ve allowed him to think I’ve given up. I’ve allowed him to think he’s won. But the next time he encounters Pinky - the next time he encounters a mother’s wrath - he won’t be able to escape it. Time to turn the tables, Freeman. Are you still with me?
Freeman nods, though he remains silent as darkness fades in slowly, and soon it’s all there is.
From silence, the distinct sound of labored breathing greets our ears. An audible gulp throws off the panicked rhythm, and the sound of splashing water brings light to the scene.
Dark waters ripple wildly all around us inside of some planetesimal-size facility that exists nowhere on Earth, save perhaps the smallest, unlikeliest place of all. There’s no shoreline in sight from where we’re positioned atop the angry, black sea.
We draw away from our first person perspective, revealing the one unfortunate enough to find himself standing atop the waves...
The Jackal’s head darts around in fear and utter confusion, both so strong as to stem the tide of the inhuman wrath that fills him to bursting. This isn’t what he had anticipated upon saying the words...or was it? His unsureness only makes him feel weaker now. He dons an angry mask and calls out to the sky.
Jackal: Show yourself, you bitch! Come out and face me!
The camera begins to drop toward the sea.
Jackal: Some charade this is! Do you think I haven’t been to the other side before? Do you think you’ve got -
We plunge beneath the waves, losing sight of the Jackal immediately. Farther and farther we sink, even after our descent becomes unseeable in the depths.
Suddenly though, a figure appears in the void. It’s comprised of absolute darkness - darker still than the water that surrounds us - and we follow it upward as it speeds toward the surface. As we draw near, a faint light pierces the waters, though it does little to reveal the shadow we’ve been following.
We race ahead of it just before the camera breaches the surface, revealing the Jackal standing atop the roiling sea.
Jackal: ...won’t stand here any longer! Reveal yourself or I’ll put an end to -
Time slows to a near stop, though we continue to push through it ever so slowly. As the statuesque Jackal glares in rage with clenched fists held skyward, a spherical bubble begins to form in the black sea behind him; the surface tension refusing to give way as the shadowy creature shoots up from beneath. After a few seconds though, the water can no longer contain it, and time reverts back to normal as it breaks through.
We cut back to the perspective of the Jackal, who spins too late to catch more than a glimpse of the menacing shadow, which grabs hold of the back of his long hair and yanks him down…
Pain - the Jackal feels it for the first time as his neck is torqued backward. And with the onset of it, he panics, breathing in a mouthful of black water just as the shadow drags him beneath the waves. He takes in too much of the foul-tasting sea, and his panic intensifies tenfold as he experiences the desperate, tormentous feeling of drowning.
Lower and lower he’s dragged, until finally - with all the strength he can muster - the Jackal manages to regain a bit of control...
The scene around us changes. From within the anti-gravity chamber, we look out to where the Jackal was standing just a few moments ago; before he uttered three words to the comatose Pinky: “Let me in.”
And she had obliged, just as Dune predicted.
We cut away from inside the chamber to see Dune and Freeman standing in front of it, staring through at Pinky with tempered-amazement at her now-open eyes. She remains suspended in the air, and nothing moves aside from the features of her face. She looks at Dune with wide, haunting eyes and begins to scream.
Pinky: Let me out! Let me out!
Her vicariously-spoken voice is muffled by the thick glass that separates her from them, and Freeman turns to Dune and speaks over her as she continues.
Freeman: Do you think it’s him?
Dune doesn’t respond. Instead, he takes a step toward the tank so that his half-masked face is nearly pressed up against the glass. He stares hard into Pinky’s eyes as she continues to plead for his help.
Pinky: I love you, Dune - you do still love me right? Let me out - please! You -
Dune: Look at me. Be quiet.
Pinky: - have to let me out of here, I can’t breath, I can’t -
Dune: Silence!
He gets it from her, and as her wild eyes dart back and forth from his to Freeman’s, he catches them as well.
A long moment passes as he stares deep into the eyes of his love, desperate for any trace of her...but he finds none; the Jackal’s frightening inhumanity is all too apparent. The beast knows it, too, even before Dune turns his back to the chamber and begins walking away.
In seeing Freeman turn and follow Dune toward the exit of the subterranean complex, an indescribable fear overcomes the Jackal, and he screams in final desperation.
Pinky: Let me out! Let me -
But suddenly, Pinky’s face goes limp, and her eyelids snap shut as, from within, she ensnares the Jackal, drawing him back into the chambers of torment that exist only in her mind.
Once more, her suspended body takes on an air of peaceful tranquility from inside the anti-gravity chamber. After a few seconds of silence, we cut to black.
Dune: Joey Flash...
The whispered name blows away the darkness, and its echo fades away into the burning desert sky. The golden sun sits just above the horizon, painting the sky around it a dull crimson hue and the bottom of nearby clouds a bright shade of pink. Deeper hues of purple and blue drench the sky higher up.
We pan over, and the sky becomes dark and full of stars before we see the the up-close face of Dune. With the constellations as a backdrop, his black mask and icy blue eyes reflect the dying light of day as his deep voice fills the air.
Dune: Here we are, Joey. This is it. For more than 8 months I’ve been forced to endure your insufferable pesting. For nearly a year the thought of Joey Flash has never been far from front and center. All the petty bullshit you marred my Spring with; all the times you crossed the line into my personal affairs this Summer; the one time I crossed into yours this Fall…
And now, as Winter is upon us, you needn’t wonder what the defining moment of the season will be:
One.
You’ve had your laughs. You’ve had your cries. You’ve had your win...but at One, Joey...at One, you’ll finally get what’s been coming to you since we started this dance so long ago: a crippling defeat at the hands of the baddest motherfucker in the business.
You’ve earned it, Joey - more so than anyone else on the roster today. You’re the very worst sort of person, painting me black when you knew the horrible truth all along. You ought to be ashamed, and knowing your scarred psyche - which was ruined long before you joined the WCF - you ARE ashamed. But you’ll continue to say it anyway; you’ll say that it was ME who killed your son, not the Jackal. You know better, but as I’ve said, you fear the truth; you fear the Jackal.
Perhaps if I told you the news, you’d reconsider your stance.
Perhaps if I told you what’s become of him, you’d break off the lie that taints your son’s death...
Fuck you. I don’t want your respect, Joey. I don’t want your trust. By now I couldn’t care less whether or not you claim to the masses that I’m the guilty party. To most it comes off as a cheap way to sell tickets, so congratulations on tarnishing your boy’s legacy by getting a few more deadbeats to care about this cute little deathmatch you’ve arranged for the two of us. They would have bought tickets anyway, and not to see you hop around and wrench at elbows and ankles. They want to see me murdering motherfuckers - Dune: the killer of children, for christ’s sake...at least according to a dead one’s father.
The mindless masses love to see me tear apart my victims in the ring - even if they don’t cheer it anymore - because they feel safe from my wrath. For them it’s like watching a movie or playing a video game; seeing the violence from a good, safe distance somehow gives them the feeling of being totally immersed in it. But you won’t be so lucky, Joey. You’ll be the one immersed in it FOR them, sacrificing your mind and your body for the purpose of giving the crowd something to care about; for the purpose of giving them something bloody and broken to gawk and scream at. Your freshly pinned, mangled body will be a sight they’ll never forget. People all around the world will remember where they were and what they were doing on the night Dune sounded Joey Flash’s death knell before burying him in the center of the ring.
Buried, Joey - like father, like son.
You did bury him, right? Or did you scatter his ashes to the wind? It doesn’t matter. He’s gone, and I’m so fucking sick of talking about him...
We’ve got a fight on the horizon, not a therapy session. You may think they’re one and the same, coming at me with a father’s wrath and using One as a stage to avenge your boy. But as usual, Joey, you’re playing the fool, because what you’re after’s already been had.
It was me who avenged your boy.
It was me who dealt with his killer.
I ended the Jackal’s reign of terror...and this Sunday at One, I’m collecting my due.
Dune’s eyes flick away from the screen and toward the setting sun, the bottom of which now dips below the horizon behind us. The night behind Dune has deepened, and the stars gleam down with ever increasing brightness. His eyes dart back to the screen before he continues.
Dune: I neutralized the threat, Joey. Does that anger you - that I’m the one who outsmarted him? It shouldn’t. You should be thanking me, but we both know you’d never stoop so low - not after running with such a black and terrible lie for months on end. Does it anger you that I’m the one who young Christian will be thanking in the afterlife, should it truly exist? The man you’ve loved to hate since you realized I was set to conquer the WCF just did what dear old dad was never going to do. Dear old dad couldn’t face his fears. Dear old dad couldn’t face the Jackal. Brave of you to face me instead, I suppose, but since when was bravery an open door to success? Most brave men fail wholeheartedly. Some die on the battlefield, others perish at sea...still others are left battered, broken, and lifeless inside the squared circle.
You’re in over your head, Joey. This is One, the biggest event of the year, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me from capping off 2015 with the most deserved victory of my rookie campaign. So go ahead and fight for false-vengeance, if that’s all you’ve got to cling to anymore. But I want you to remember one thing - just one thing: it’s ME who’s fighting for vengeance at One, not you. I want you to remember it when I’ve got you just where I want you - when your knees are weak and you’re feeling faint from loss of blood. I want you to remember it as I raise you up on high and crush your spine against my uplifted knee. I want you to remember it, Joey, should I have to put you out of your misery like some rabid dog who doesn’t know his meal from his master.
The vengeance I’m after isn’t for targeting my fellow Sentinels all those months ago. Occulo has since proved his worth to me, turning his back to me since returning to the WCF. And even though I was madder than I’d been in many years as I watched you shatter Howard Black’s arm, he, too, has proven that our friendship - our so-called “brotherhood” - didn’t have the same meaning to us both. The Sentinels abandoned me on their own accord. They fled, which is the exact opposite of what a sentinel does by definition, and so now there’s only one who remains. But I don’t stand for the fallen, nor do I stand against the rising. I stand for myself alone...and I stand against one man: Joey Flash.
Joey Flash, who chose to interweave his life with mine.
Joey Flash, whose arrogance drew the likeminded Jackal his way.
Joey Flash, whose foolishness got his own son killed.
No one but you can take blame for the death of your son, Joey. The Jackal is inherently evil - you saw enough of him to know that. He was going to kill either way, whether it was Christian or some other forsaken soul. And had you stayed out of it - had you allowed our business to remain in the ring, as I warned you to do - your son would still be alive today. But YOU got involved. YOU caught the eye of the Jackal, Joey...and in making me out to be responsible for his horrible crimes, you’ve proven just what kind of man you are: one who’s hollow; one who’s empty; one who’s alone.
Like the Jackal, really. So much like the Jackal. And look what’s become of him now...
The only remaining sliver of sun is on fire now, burning a deep crimson as reflected in Dune’s mask. It bloodies the whites of his eyes, though the piercing, icy blue still stands out in the center. He glares into the screen, and his face takes on an almost inhuman appearance as he continues.
Dune: You cling to me like a disease, Joey. You’re a cancer; a malignancy that would grow and spread out of control if it wasn’t treated with relentless savagery and aggression - with unequivocal malignance - which is exactly what I’ll be treating you with at One. Both you and the Jackal thought it wise to bathe me in the fires of torment, and for far too long I allowed them to persist. But now I’ve taken the power back from the infinitely greater threat of the two of you, and nothing is going to stop me from finishing the job this Sunday.
Nothing.
And now, as the sun dies on the eve of the climax - as the hourglass empties on a year of mutual torment and destruction - that age-old question you asked me on the sands rings out in my mind once more:
“How’s it going to end?”
It ends with me eradicating the malignancy you became so long ago.
It ends with me putting you down once and for all.
It ends here, Joey…
It ends at One.
Dune glares at the screen as his words sink in. The horizon behind us has all but swallowed the setting sun, and he turns his eyes that way to see the very top of the fiery sphere just before its sheathed entirely. As twilight falls, he walks out of the frame, leaving the coming night and its constellations behind in his wake.
But we don’t fade to black - not yet.
Instead, we pan over, revealing a large plateau about fifty yards off. At first, nothing seems remarkable about it. But as the shot fades to a closer view of the plateau’s rocky base, a steel door becomes apparent. We zoom in on it, passing through when it comes to fill the screen. Beyond its borders lies the eery silence of a vast subterranean complex. We fade into a shot of an ill-lit hall; a steep, steel-grated staircase; and finally the doorway to a room wherein the hum of electricity replaces the silence.
We pass through the doorway slowly, and the camera rotates even slower to reveal the source of the sound.
The Jackal stares into the screen through Pinky’s haunting, wide-open eyes. Her body is suspended on the air within the anti-gravity chamber, and once more, nothing moves aside from the features of her face. She calls out hesitantly as we approach.
Pinky: Help me!
But as soon as he says it, a look of terror comes over her face...
We don’t hear it - we don’t feel it - but something from within her is calling out, clawing to get at the surface. It’s Pinky herself, and just before she grabs hold of the Jackal and draws him back down, he screams vicariously through her.
Pinky: Let me oouuut!
Her eyes snap shut, and just after they do, we cut to black.
In the darkness, the Jackal’s labored breathing reaches our ears once more. After a few seconds, the snap of a finger births a flame in the palm of none other than Pinky,who stands before us alive and well here inside one of countless chambers of her mind. Our viewpoint is that of the Jackal as she closes the small gap between them, holding the flame up to her chest as he speaks.
Jackal: Please...please stop.
His panicked breathing persists, and Pinky lifts the flame to her mouth before speaking through it in reply.
Pinky: Shhh...just breathe…
Breathe.
With that, she draws back and blows through the flame. The Jackal screams to see it draw near, and as fire engulfs the screen, we cut to black.
- Passionately and relentlessly malevolent; aggressively malicious
- Tending to infiltrate and terminate fatally if left untreated
Part I: Where Beasts Fear to Tread
Interwoven Moments
A full moon lights up the atmosphere high above a dense layer of clouds. We fall toward them slowly, and in passing through, we’re met with a flurry of snowflakes. One drifts past the screen, and its intricate, crystalline structure magnifies as we follow its dizzying descent.
A bird’s eye view reveals a cluster of several dozen golden points of light that shine amidst a far-reaching black plane. They give light to a large, isolated facility, and we see them through the symmetrical gaps within the snowflake. Suddenly though, as if the air were on fire, beads of water begin to form on the magnified snowflake’s sharp, icy lines. The beads grow and spread, until finally the transformation is complete, and all that’s left is a drop of rain.
It falls and falls, and as it does the lights grow brighter...brighter...
A road comes into view. It rushes toward the screen, though just before the raindrop splashes against the curb, something else intercepts it...
We cut to the half-masked face of Dune, whose icy blue eyes gleam through the translucent curtain of rain. His face is void of expression as he walks along the edge of the road.
*CLANK*
The metallic sound rings out every few seconds, and in zooming out slowly, we see the culprit: a black crowbar, 4 feet long and 1 ½. inches in diameter. The heavy steel smacks the ground each time Dune flicks his left wrist. In his right hand he holds another metallic object - bomb-like, to the untrained eye - though in truth it’s a generator with an opposite purpose.
*CLANK*
A still shot from the rear shows him striding away from us and toward the front gate of St. Alderman’s hospital, where his true love lies comatose within. Visiting hours have long since expired...yet all the same, with two minutes left before the stroke of midnight on Christmas morning, Dune has arrived.
*CLANK*
And we cut away.
Two security guards sit in a small hub just outside the front gates. Their eyes are glued to a small TV that sits on the counter in front of them. Conveniently enough, a commercial for One is playing, and the guards converse as a montage of Dune and Joseph Malignaggi’s long-standing feud plays out on the screen.
Guard 1: Dune’s gonna get killed on Sunday.
Guard 2: Bullshit. Dune’s unstoppable -
Guard 1: Until Joey Flash enters the equation.
*CLANK*
Guard 2: Dune conquered the WCF. All Flash did was beat Dune.
Guard 1: Exactly.
Guard 2: No, that’s -
*CLANK*
The guards turn toward the sound, and their eyes widen to see none other than the Sandman himself less than ten yards away and closing fast. He calls out.
Dune: Open the gate!
Guard 1: I’m sorry, but visiting hours are -
Dune reaches the half open window and glares at the guard as he cuts him off.
Dune: Open the gate. Now.
Guard 2: We can’t do that...we’d lose our jobs!
Dune: Better those than your lives.
Guard 1: Wha -
Everything goes silent as we cut to a security-camera feed of the small hub. Chaos reigns in black and white on screen. Dune shatters the windowpane in front of the guards with one swing of his crowbar before making his way around to the door. He kicks it in, and the guards trip over glass fragments as they rush for the freedom that lies beyond the shard-lined window frame...but they’re not quick enough. Dune slams the steel bar into one of their heads, and he chokes out the other before tossing him to the floor. He presses a button to open the gate, then turns around and makes to leave…
But just before he steps back outside, his head turns toward the screen. The haunting silence pervades as he stares at it for a moment. Then, without warning, he swings the heavy steel crowbar with one arm, destroying the camera and replacing the feed with static…
...but it doesn’t last long. And as it fades, Dune appears before us again. He paces back and forth slowly in a dim, empty, four-cornered room. He doesn’t bother stopping or looking toward the screen as his voice cuts through the silence.
Dune: “How’s it going to end?”
You remember asking me that on the sands, don’t you, Joey? Well I’ve got a question of my own for you:
How’d we get here?
Have you put any thought into it at all? Or have the interwoven moments we’ve shared since the Spring been flung to the wayside in favor of those that occurred on a single day in the Fall? Has the shroud of death blinded you from the truth? Of course it has...but you were blind to it before then, even as it were.
Not me though. Despite the unearthly terrors we’ve both been haunted by - BOTH being the key word, Joey - I’m in the right here. I know what’s what. In short, I didn’t kill your son, and you’re a damned fool for believing I did, what with you having met the one who threw Christian from the precipice.
How’s that for acknowledging the elephant in the room?
I didn’t kill your son, Joey...but I know who did. And here’s the worst part:
So do you.
You KNOW he did it. You’ve always known. He murdered my unborn child right in front of your eyes in the desert - how could you be so blind?!
For many hours I’ve brooded over that question - most of them while hunting Allegri assassins you and your cunt mafia-boss wife sent after me. They found themselves entirely out of their element in the desert, especially in those fleeting moments before death as they begged for mercy. They got none. They died slowly and painfully, because I had no pity for them. And it was your foolishness - your willful blindness to the truth - that inspired my pitiless wrath.
I’ve come to the conclusion that you’re afraid, Joey Flash. You’re afraid to accept the world as it’s presented to you. You’re afraid that, if you finally give in and allow the lesser-half of your psyche to recognize that the Jackal killed your boy, you’ll never have any hope of redemption. Because after all, how do you kill a demon? And that is what you’re after at One, right, Joey - redemption? A deathmatch - how clever. You know it’ll take more than what you’re made of to get the best of me again. You know I’ve got the high ground. Of course I do. Because I don’t fear the truth, nor do I disregard it as a consequence.
Death doesn’t blind me as it does you. In fact, its ravages as a youth were the best thing for me. They’ve allowed me to become the dominant force I am today. Meanwhile, you’ve allowed them to chew you up and spit you out. You’re broken, Joey - in aiming for me, the Jackal hit you hardest - but this Sunday at One, I’m going to finish what the beast started.
He stops, and his half-masked face and icy blue eyes finally shoot toward the screen as he continues.
Dune: It’ll all be over soon, Joey. What you started by singling me out as the biggest threat to the dominance you would never achieve ends with me dominating you inside the ring. After all, that’s where it began, and that’s where it was supposed to have remained. If I’d had my way, it would have. But you just couldn’t handle that. You had to poke and prod and toy with me outside of the squared circle. It was to your undoing, you know. What good came of you lurking in the shadows at my back, making me the focal point of your life? It did nothing aside from pit you against the most dangerous man in the Federation as well as an extra-dimensional presence who’d been haunting me from birth; the same who would wind up killing your four year old son.
Needless to say, you picked the wrong man to fuck with in more ways than one. You’ll notice that, while Gemini Battle and the entirety of Beach Krew have felt my wrath in recent weeks, no one on the roster aside from you has suffered at the hands of the Jackal. That’s not a coincidence. There’s a reason he chose you to crush alongside me. There’s a reason you’re down in a hole, and you’ve got no one to blame but yourself.
I may have unknowingly lead you down the dark path we tread upon today, but it’s you who followed. You could have turned back. You could have saved yourself; you could have saved your son. For fuck’s sake, we could have just had a goddamned wrestling match - which is all I ever wanted out of you - but that’s not what happened. You had to come to the desert - you had to step over that line in the sand - and on the other side, you were made to be just as helpless to save my unborn child and the woman I love as I was to save your son that day in the church...
He turns away from the screen and takes a few steps toward the far wall. With his back toward us, he continues.
Dune: He took her from me. He took them both. My love and my unborn child, gone in an instant. And you were there. You were right beside her.
He took her from me...
But I took her back.
The darkness in the room deepens and spreads, until his hulking form has faded entirely, and blackness fills the screen.
It cuts away as we see Dune looking through a window inside the familiar halls of St. Alderman’s hospital. The overhead lights are off, but flashing emergency lights illuminate the corridor. With each flash we’re given a glimpse of what Dune’s eyes remain locked on: a pretty young woman with bright Pink hair, the same hair that became her namesake long ago.
Pinky lies in a deeply comatose state within, closer to death than ever before and hooked up to a machine that acts as her only lifeline.
Dune tries to open the door but, as expected, it’s locked. He sets the heavy generator down and jabs the steel crowbar into the small crack between the door and its frame. Wedging it in, he pushes against it with all his might, letting out a deep wail before the door finally gives way. He drops the crowbar and throws open the door, bringing the generator inside with him. He wastes no time in hooking Pinky’s life support machine into it, and soon he’s making his way out of the room, pushing Pinky’s wheeled-bed alongside the machine that keeps her alive.
The emergency elevator is the only one large enough to accommodate them, and once inside Dune stares down at his only true love. She’s so still - so lifeless - and he becomes lost in her face as he looks upon it...but only before the doors reopen on the ground floor of the hospital. Two guards and the hospital’s director stand waiting for him.
Guard: Hands up! Step away from the patient!
Dune doesn’t acknowledge them, pushing his precious cargo past the three men before one grabs his arm. In a flash, Dune throws a devastating series of punches, knocking the guard out cold. The other makes to fire his weapon, though Dune grabs hold of him by his collar and belt, lifting him high overhead before bringing his spine down on top of a raised knee.
Now only the hospital director remains, and he quivers with fear as he follows Dune toward the exit at the front of the lobby.
Director: What are you doing, Dune?
Dune: I’m taking her home.
Director: But these aren’t the proper channels! This is in direct violation of protocol, and should you -
Dune: My money has kept her alive long enough. It’s my turn to care for her. I’ll send you a check for the damages.
Director: You’re being foolish! Our doctors have told you time and again: she’ll never wake up!
Dune snarls before shooting out and grabbing the director’s head between his arm, planting him into the hard floor with a vicious DDT. He rises as the director lies motionless on the floor and continues toward the exit.
Once outside, the sound of distant sirens greets us. In looking out, a line of emergency vehicles with red and blue lights flashing can be seen heading toward the hospital. Far out in front though is another vehicle, of which all we can see is its headlights. Soon though, we see it’s a large white van, and it turns a corner and plows through the now-closed front gates, speeding toward Dune and Pinky with reckless abandon. It comes to a screeching halt right in front of them, and the driver hops out. He wears a hooded robe and a greying beard, and his face is all too familiar.
Freeman: Get her in, quick!
The two men rush to get Pinky into the back of the van. It doesn’t take long, and Freeman hops back in the driver’s seat and peels off with Dune, Pinky, and the generator-powered life support machine in the rear.
The line of emergency vehicles closes on the only road leading into St. Alderman’s, but Freeman doesn’t drive their way. Instead, he speeds toward the pitch black desert, whose shadows engulf the van upon breaking through a chain-link fence.
We cut to a high, rising shot from the front of St. Alderman’s, showing the emergency vehicles arriving too late as Dune, Freeman, and Pinky escape into the night. After a few seconds, the shot fades to black.
From the Beginning
FLASHBACK
Dune: I’m bringing her home.
Sunlight scatters the dark in an instant. Before us is the maskless Dune in the days leading up to his most recent match against Gemini Battle. His butchered face is partially shaded by the midday sun, and the deep, jagged valleys that cover his mouth and jawline pulse and sway as he continues.
Dune: But I need your help, Freeman.
We cut away, revealing Dune’s mentor, who he’s only seen one other time since the end of September and the tragic string of events leading up to WAR. The aging man lowers his hood before he replies.
Freeman: Before I do anything for you, I want to know what happened.
Dune: It’s a long story.
Freeman: Well then...if you want my help, you’d best start from the beginning.
Dune stares back at his old friend - the only one who’d remained by his side during and throughout his rise to power in the WCF; the only one who remained by his side through thick and thin outside the ring - and after a long moment, he walks toward him. Freeman stands his ground, remembering their previous encounter, which saw him knocked unconscious. This time though, instead of attacking him, Dune wraps his long, muscle-packed arms around his old friend and pulls him close. The two embrace, nothing withheld, before they make their way beneath a shaded overhang.
They sit staring out at the desert expanse as Dune begins the tale.
He tells him of how his rottweiler began acting strange one night; how the beast attacked him and sprinted off into the desert...
He tells him of how he was made to believe it was Joseph Malignaggi who blew a hole in the side of the Double X, the bar run by Freeman’s old and now dead friend, Chief, and his daughter, Pinky; how he was made to believe that Joseph Malignaggi murdered his unborn child inside his lover’s womb thereafter...
He tells him of the Jackal, and all the irreparable harm the beast has caused him.
When he reaches the devastating climax of the tale - the murder of young Christian Malignaggi, which the Jackal orchestrated to terrible perfection - Freeman interjects.
Dune: I tried to save him, but it was too late. I was trapped inside myself, and when he -
Freeman: Where is he now? The Jackal, I mean.
Dune: I don’t know. He could be anywhere at anytime. That’s why I didn’t come to you sooner. I didn’t want to put you in harm’s way.
Freeman: That’s where I’ve been all my life - what kind of bullshit is that?
Dune: You don’t know what it’s like, Freeman. When he takes over…
The two go quiet, and when the moment passes Freeman speaks up.
Freeman: You’re still wrestling though.
Dune: The WCF is all I have.
Freeman: Gemini Battle for the second time in as many weeks...gonna put him down this time?
Dune: He’ll need a miracle to take the #1 Contender’s spot.
Freeman: Miracles happen everyday. And Joey Flash, or Joseph Malignancy or whatever it is...are you keeping tabs on him?
Dune: He wants to kill me, Freeman; of course I am. But he shouldn’t be back anytime soon, not after what I put his body through.
Freeman furrows his brow, though he doesn’t inquire as to Dune’s vicious, ultra-violent behavior of late. Instead, another moment of silence passes between them. This time, it’s Dune’s deep voice that fills the void.
Dune: Will you help me bring her home, Freeman?
Freeman nods.
Freeman: Of course. When?
Dune: I’m having everything prepared as we speak. The machines should be fully operational in a few weeks on Christmas Eve. That night, we’ll bring her back.
Freeman: To where?
Dune: You’ll remember when I show you.
Freeman raises an eyebrow, though before he can give it much thought, Dune continues.
Dune: I know how to kill him.
Freeman: Flash?
Dune: No.
Freeman: Ah…
He nods in understanding, and after a moment of thought, he continues.
Freeman: But how?
Dune turns to Freeman, though just before he can explain, the scene fades out, giving way to another.
Superiority Complex
Back in the present day, the Jackal appears before us. He wears a grey suit and a troubled expression, only one of which is familiar to us. He walks down a snow-covered sidewalk on a cold and lonely side street in some unknown place.
Jackal: That bitch.
He mutters to himself as the snow crunches beneath his still-unblemished shoes. He tries to shake the thought, but the woman’s bright pink hair remains ingrained in his mind’s eye.
Jackal: That fucking bitch!
The echo of his falsely-human voice carries around the corner, where it blends with the soft notes of a choir that greet our ears. In turning the corner, the Jackal stops to look upon the group of young carolers who sing just before dawn on Christmas morning
“...Mother and Child...Holy infant so tender and mild...Sleep in heavenly peace...Sleep in heavenly peace…”
The Jackal scowls as the thought of the mother he allowed to live comes back to the forefront of his mind in full force. Without hesitation, he makes for the children, his full intent being to murder every last one...but he stops after only a few yards…
Jackal: Why should they suffer for her sins?
But he knows why: they’re an easier target. And he knows this because of what happened the last time he visited Pinky with Dune at St. Alderman’s hospital. Something happened when he took over her deeply comatose body...something that had never happened to him before…
He found himself trapped inside her mind; trapped inside a chamber of torment.
The hows and whys make him steam with anger, as does his indecisiveness. On the one hand, he wants nothing more than to end Pinky’s life. On the other though...his very humanlike arrogance won’t allow him to let this go. In his otherworldly mind, he must prove that this mere mortal hasn’t gotten the better of him; in there, he can’t go on until he’s proven he’s the superior being.
Jackal: I am.
He reassures himself before the carolers and the streets around him cut away.
The next moment, he stands inside a ravaged hospital room. He remains invisible to investigators and hospital staff alike, who move about all around him as he stares wide-eyed at the spot where Pinky’s bed once lay.
In seeing her gone, a rage unlike he’s ever known comes over him, and his eyes shrink into a glare as a single word issues on his breath.
Jackal: Dune.
And he disappears before we cut to black.
Part II: Eradication
Anti-Gravity
Deep beneath the surface of the Mojave Desert, a multi-million dollar facility that’s been abandoned for over five months runs at full power again. A small team of well-paid, highly trained technicians finished their long, arduous installations less than 24 hours ago, and now, as the sun rises on Christmas morning, Dune and Freeman stand in front of a technological marvel. We don’t see it though - only the glow its lights cast on both men.
Freeman: I didn’t think it was possible.
Dune: I know. Did you see him before I pulled the plug - the clone who was in here?
Freeman: No...no, but I saw the others.
Dune: Of course you did. You were with me the night the escapee came knocking at the door.
Freeman: Dr. G and the clones...goddamn, was that an ordeal! But I tell you what, Dune - I miss those days.
Dune: They were good days.
Silence between them, before Freeman pats Dune on the back.
Freeman: I’m gonna have a look around...you know, for nostalgia’s sake.
He flashes a wink and walks out of the spherical, metallic room. As he leaves, we pan over, revealing what Dune is gazing at: a large, glass-encased cylinder. It’s hollow save for Pinky, who drifts on the air inside as if it were water...
What was once designed to nurse the clones of Dune to life by a brilliant madman by the name of Dr. G has been transformed into an anti-gravity chamber designed to relieve Pinky’s comatose body of any exterior stress.
Dune turns his attention away from Pinky and walks over to a side door nearby. He steps through to a vast, cavernous hall, and from the balcony he speaks.
Dune: And now we wait…
His half-masked face shoots toward the screen, and he glares as he continues.
Dune: Don’t ask what for when it comes to you, Joey - you know all too well.
Have you given any thought to what I asked you before - about how we got to where we are today? I should hope so, but in truth it’s all too likely that you disregarded every word I said to you. That’s fine work, Joey. Good form, as always - missing the big picture that’s displayed right in front of you.
Don’t mind my temper. I’ve lost all patience for you. You make me sick, Joey Flash. Call yourself Joseph Malignaggi to the masses all you want. Let the WCF Faithful put their coppers in your pockets as they donate to your selfish, attention-seeking child-fund. They may see you as their tragic hero now, but that’s only because they’re just as willfully blind as you are. However hard you try to paint yourself as a sympathetic warrior of the people, we both know that’s not the case. You’re a lying, scheming sack of shit who they wanted nothing more than to see beaten to a pulp and injured beyond repair, at least for a time. And that’s exactly what I gave them.
And what did they do in response?
They turned on me in favor of you.
They claim to want to see more and more of the old ultra-violence, but when I deliver just that they boo and hiss and get their panties in a wad. So I gave them more. I put their lives in danger on Slam when I tore the house down with an goddamn axe. I took out Jared Holmes, and when I did they weren’t sure if they should cheer or boo...those miserable fucks. I beat Gemini Battle to within an inch of his life twice in two weeks...and were it not for you appearing from the shadows like old times and repeatedly cracking that bat over my skull, I’d be on my way to becoming a two-time World Champion after defeating Wade Moor at One. Now though...now I’ve got to settle for ending your career once and for all.
Don’t mistake my meaning, Joey. I want to hurt you. I want to end your career, but I could have done it anytime after winning back the Title. Dismantling you and forcing you into an early retirement has been the goal all along, ever since we started this in the Spring. Your old pal Seth Lerch allowed you to avoid me for months in the ring...but, by WAR, there was nowhere left for you to hide. You may have won the belt off me that night, Joey, but the fact that you could only hold it for mere minutes after my nearly five-month reign of dominance tells a tale of its own. And where have you been since? Forcing out tears in the corner, I imagine...in between run-ins where you save the world from the big bad Dune. You haven’t wrestled a match in almost three months, and all because of the ungodly punishment I put you through.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised at your inconsistency. It’s one of the traits that’s come to define you since I joined the ranks nearly a year ago to the day. When I came along, you were TV Champ and rolling through the competition. But as soon as my tour of annihilation commenced, you dropped off the map, only to resurface a couple weeks before WAR and squeak past a few men more your size. And I’m not talking about your frame, Joey; I’m talking about the size of your mind - the size of the fight you bring to the ring.
You’ll have some extra fuel when you square off against me though, won’t you? In your supreme foolishness, you’ll be coming at me with the mistaken belief that I murdered your son. It’s almost as if some higher power has attempted to level the playing field for us, because a scorned parent’s wrath is exactly the kind of thing you’ll need if you hope to pose a challenge for me at One.
He turns away from the screen and walks over to a flight of steel-grated stairs nearby. He takes a seat on the top stair, and looks out over the cavernous expanse as he continues.
Dune: Scorned - remember when that’s what you thought you were, Joey - back when you fancied yourself a taller, stronger pillar than all the rest in that pathetic supergroup that died off thanks largely to my in-ring efforts? Well if you were scorned back then, what does that make you now?
Who gives a shit. You’re old news, Flash. You’re a bust. You’re the fast starter who fizzled out and faded away thanks to - you guessed it - yours truly.
I’m a force more powerful than you’d care to acknowledge. Like any powerful force, I bring change to everything I touch. And when it comes to the WCF as a whole, what have I done here if not change its very landscape?
I ushered in a new era, one that saw the old guard and new bloods alike fail to slow my rapid ascent or dethrone me once I inevitably claimed my rightful place atop WCF Mountain. From the inside looking out, I can’t imagine what it must have been like for the rest as they watched me prove my worth as the best in the business each time I stepped foot in the ring. And in seeing my dominance - in knowing they couldn’t compete - they dropped like flies before me.
I pinned your unpinnable partner Jonny Fly and decimated the untouchable World Champion, Natural ICE Beckman, two figureheads of WCF history and men who ran rampant over all those who stood in their path in the years leading up to my arrival. And all the others I ran out of the WCF as World Champion - where are they now? Gone, and all because they couldn’t defeat me when the biggest prize of all was on the line. Well unlike them - and you, in large part - I’m still here, Joey, and I won’t rest until I can add your name to the list of those who have fallen by my hand.
But just like you, that’s old news. A new year looms on the horizon, one I’m set to dominate equally if not more convincingly than I did in my rookie campaign. Who’s going to stand in my way this time out - Beach Crew? I’ll break apart the waves they’ve thrown up in their infancy and render them obsolete come One next year - mark my words. Will it be some upstart who’s still yet to join? Or perhaps a legend set to return at any minute now...no and no.
Will it be you, Joey?
The musing of a fool. How could you possibly hope to keep me from reigning supreme over the WCF for back to back years when you won’t even be around to try?
“How’s it going to end?,” you asked. It doesn’t end well for you. It doesn’t end pretty - at least not for the faint of heart. It doesn’t end how you’d like. This isn’t a fairy tale where the unlikely hero lives happily ever after. Ours is a Roman tragedy, and in the end, the people leave with their hearts crushed after witnessing greatness - however foul they may perceive it - prevail over good. And when the end comes - when you’re on the brink of collapse and I’ve got you crucified high in the air for the all the world to see - then you’ll know the answer to your question. How’s it gonna end? Do I really have to spell it out for you, Joey?
Sandstorm.
One. Two. Three.
He stands, and we cut away as he turns and enters the room where Pinky floats in the anti-gravity chamber. Once inside he looks around, as if expecting someone. When he sees that no one’s there, his eyes flick up at the screen and he continues.
Dune: What do you think I’ve been doing while you were away, Joey - twiddling my thumbs and looking bashful in the corner? I should hope not. You were there the night I sent tsunami-like ripples through Beach Crew’s ranks, destroying one of their top men. That was before I got my hands on you and took you out of action for the second time this year. For fuck’s sake, based on our history, the only logical expectation going into this match is that you’ll be out another couple months as a result.
You’re a scavenging little bitch, Joey. You’re the vulture of the WCF. I’m the one who’s done the hard work. I’m the one who’s done the heavy lifting. I’ve been the workhorse of the WCF from the start. Meanwhile you were busy playing grabass with yourself and intentionally avoiding the stiff competition I was putting down in the ring week in and week out. That’s pussy shit, and it maddens me to no end that I dropped the World Title - something I busted my ass to win and retain - to a scavenging motherfucker like Joey Flash.
A wrong’s been committed between us. I’m not talking about your dead son either. Nor am I talking about my dead child, who never even saw the light of day...but I will say all this talk of dead children makes me want to unleash on you all the more. You caused this, Joey. It’s your fault. If that isn’t clear as day to you, stick around and I’ll lay it all out for you.
No...the wrong I’m referring to is your victory over me at WAR. I’m not a man who allows himself to be wronged without taking action. It’s ironic, because that’s exactly what you think you’re doing in targeting me at One. We want to hurt each other for different reasons, don’t we, Joey? There’s you - the father seeking vengeance on an innocent man, who in turn looks like a complete ass for not facing his problems head on. And there’s me - the man who’s not afraid to face what he fears.
You may not fear me, Joey, but that’s just one of many reasons why you’re doomed to fail at One. What you do fear is something else though...and don’t lie to yourself in denying it. You turn your face to me because, though I’m a merciless killer and the one true monster of the WCF, you’ve known the Jackal’s touch.
You’re a coward...but I’m not. The Jackal’s done his damndest to break me down into ruins. He thinks he’s done it, Joey. He thinks he’s won. Just like you, I suppose. You’re nothing compared to him though. You know that. Think of it this way - you spent an afternoon with him; I’ve spent the better part of two months with him. He’s more powerful than even you can imagine. But now the long awaited hour is at hand, and the end is finally in sight. Now, I need only -
He cuts off when he feels a presence at his back. Sure enough, he turns to see Freeman standing in the entranceway. The old man wears a strange grin, and his eyes stare through to Dune’s soul as he speaks.
Freeman: You need only what?
Dune: Where’ve you been?
Freeman: Around…
An uncharacteristically sinister smile comes over his face as he steps through the doorway, though it fades and his eyes go wide to see the anti-gravity chamber with Pinky suspended on the air inside.
Dune sees all this, understanding exactly what’s happened to his old friend and mentor.
Dune: Leave him out of this.
But the Jackal pays him no mind.
Freeman: You brought her here...how did you -
His expression goes sour as he cuts himself off. He begins walking toward the chamber, when suddenly the body of another man steps out the front of Freeman’s, leaving the old man cursing from his knees.
The Jackal stands in front of the chamber, staring into the face of the one he’s after.
Jackal: There you are...
Dune’s eyes flick over to Freeman, and they share a knowing glance. The Jackal’s eyes remain fixed on Pinky as he continues.
Jackal: I’m sorry I have to do this, Dune. I’ve strung you along for far too long. This ends now. Her time’s up.
He pauses, and Dune senses the fear that flows through the hesitant Jackal. After a long moment, he utters a hauntingly familiar phrase in a deep, multi-toned voice
Jackal: Let me in.
And the screen cuts to black.
Turning the Tables
FLASHBACK cont.
Desert sunlight scatters the darkness. We pick back up with Dune and Freeman where we left off mid-conversation earlier. The two sit in the shade beneath a rocky overhang, and a feeling of deja vu persists as they converse.
Dune: I know how to kill him.
Freeman: Flash?
Dune: No.
Freeman: Ah…
He nods in understanding, and after a moment of thought, he continues.
Freeman: But how?
Dune turns his maskless face toward his mentor, and the deja vu fades as we enter into uncharted waters.
Dune: Her.
Freeman furrows his brow before catching on.
Freeman: Pinky?
Dune: Something happened the last time I was at St. Alderman’s. The Jackal was there too, and when he touched her hand to his lips, he vanished. I’ve seen it happen before, of course, but he didn’t mean to get sucked in, Freeman; he didn’t mean to possess her.
Freeman: How can you be sure?
Dune: I’m not - not entirely - but more than anything it was his reaction upon reappearing a few seconds later that gives me reason to believe.
Dune turns away from Freeman and toward the sprawling desert plane before continuing.
Dune: I got a call from the hospital toward the end of November. They told me Pinky had had some sort of...outburst...in the midst of her coma. They had no explanation for me, but I didn’t need one. It was him, Freeman; it was the Jackal. And when I asked him about it after he appeared to me that night, he confirmed that he’d been there that day. He told me that, as he touched her hand to his lips, she began to writhe and scream in pain.
He turns back to Freeman.
Dune: But I don’t think it was pain she felt. I think that, somewhere deep in her own mind, she felt the touch of the Jackal - the beast that slayed the child who grew in her belly - and was trying to get out; trying to seize him.
Freeman shakes his head in disbelief as the troubling prospect takes root.
Freeman: It’s not logical. It doesn’t make any -
Dune: It makes perfect sense. The key to it all is that she doesn’t exist outside her mind like the rest of us. The rules are different for her. Once he’s inside, SHE’S in control, not him...
If you only had a reference, Freeman. You don’t know what it’s like when the Jackal takes hold. You’re conscious in there - trapped while he does as he pleases. You’ll never understand the true meaning of helplessness until you’ve felt his touch. But all it did for Pinky that first time around was alert her to his presence. And so she waited, and when he came back, she knew. She knew...and she was ready for him.
Freeman: So then, in bringing her back to...wherever it is we’re bringing her back to...you’re using her as bait for the Jackal, is that what you’re getting at?
Dune: Yes and no. The Jackal has easy access to her wherever she is. BUT, if I’m right about this, and the Jackal finds himself trapped inside her mind once more, I need her in my care. I can’t trust what the doctors would do should he break free of her control and use her body for some foul purpose.
To be honest though, I’m not sure what’ll happen as a result. Perhaps he’ll find his way out with ease as he did before. But something tells me this next time is going to be different.
Freeman: Well..if you’re actually right, he likely fears the mere thought of her. What makes you think there’s even going to BE a next time?
Dune: His arrogance is unrivaled. I saw the confusion and fear on his face after she got the better of him that day at the hospital, and knowing him, it isn’t sitting well. He won’t allow her to have the last laugh. He’ll try to take possession of her again - I have no doubt - if only to prove his superiority over the one lowly human who managed to get the best of him.
The two look out at the blue sky and golden sands as a silence ensues between them. After a few seconds, Dune’s voice cuts through it.
Dune: I’ve allowed him to think I’ve given up. I’ve allowed him to think he’s won. But the next time he encounters Pinky - the next time he encounters a mother’s wrath - he won’t be able to escape it. Time to turn the tables, Freeman. Are you still with me?
Freeman nods, though he remains silent as darkness fades in slowly, and soon it’s all there is.
Chambers of Torment
From silence, the distinct sound of labored breathing greets our ears. An audible gulp throws off the panicked rhythm, and the sound of splashing water brings light to the scene.
Dark waters ripple wildly all around us inside of some planetesimal-size facility that exists nowhere on Earth, save perhaps the smallest, unlikeliest place of all. There’s no shoreline in sight from where we’re positioned atop the angry, black sea.
We draw away from our first person perspective, revealing the one unfortunate enough to find himself standing atop the waves...
The Jackal’s head darts around in fear and utter confusion, both so strong as to stem the tide of the inhuman wrath that fills him to bursting. This isn’t what he had anticipated upon saying the words...or was it? His unsureness only makes him feel weaker now. He dons an angry mask and calls out to the sky.
Jackal: Show yourself, you bitch! Come out and face me!
The camera begins to drop toward the sea.
Jackal: Some charade this is! Do you think I haven’t been to the other side before? Do you think you’ve got -
We plunge beneath the waves, losing sight of the Jackal immediately. Farther and farther we sink, even after our descent becomes unseeable in the depths.
Suddenly though, a figure appears in the void. It’s comprised of absolute darkness - darker still than the water that surrounds us - and we follow it upward as it speeds toward the surface. As we draw near, a faint light pierces the waters, though it does little to reveal the shadow we’ve been following.
We race ahead of it just before the camera breaches the surface, revealing the Jackal standing atop the roiling sea.
Jackal: ...won’t stand here any longer! Reveal yourself or I’ll put an end to -
Time slows to a near stop, though we continue to push through it ever so slowly. As the statuesque Jackal glares in rage with clenched fists held skyward, a spherical bubble begins to form in the black sea behind him; the surface tension refusing to give way as the shadowy creature shoots up from beneath. After a few seconds though, the water can no longer contain it, and time reverts back to normal as it breaks through.
We cut back to the perspective of the Jackal, who spins too late to catch more than a glimpse of the menacing shadow, which grabs hold of the back of his long hair and yanks him down…
Pain - the Jackal feels it for the first time as his neck is torqued backward. And with the onset of it, he panics, breathing in a mouthful of black water just as the shadow drags him beneath the waves. He takes in too much of the foul-tasting sea, and his panic intensifies tenfold as he experiences the desperate, tormentous feeling of drowning.
Lower and lower he’s dragged, until finally - with all the strength he can muster - the Jackal manages to regain a bit of control...
The scene around us changes. From within the anti-gravity chamber, we look out to where the Jackal was standing just a few moments ago; before he uttered three words to the comatose Pinky: “Let me in.”
And she had obliged, just as Dune predicted.
We cut away from inside the chamber to see Dune and Freeman standing in front of it, staring through at Pinky with tempered-amazement at her now-open eyes. She remains suspended in the air, and nothing moves aside from the features of her face. She looks at Dune with wide, haunting eyes and begins to scream.
Pinky: Let me out! Let me out!
Her vicariously-spoken voice is muffled by the thick glass that separates her from them, and Freeman turns to Dune and speaks over her as she continues.
Freeman: Do you think it’s him?
Dune doesn’t respond. Instead, he takes a step toward the tank so that his half-masked face is nearly pressed up against the glass. He stares hard into Pinky’s eyes as she continues to plead for his help.
Pinky: I love you, Dune - you do still love me right? Let me out - please! You -
Dune: Look at me. Be quiet.
Pinky: - have to let me out of here, I can’t breath, I can’t -
Dune: Silence!
He gets it from her, and as her wild eyes dart back and forth from his to Freeman’s, he catches them as well.
A long moment passes as he stares deep into the eyes of his love, desperate for any trace of her...but he finds none; the Jackal’s frightening inhumanity is all too apparent. The beast knows it, too, even before Dune turns his back to the chamber and begins walking away.
In seeing Freeman turn and follow Dune toward the exit of the subterranean complex, an indescribable fear overcomes the Jackal, and he screams in final desperation.
Pinky: Let me out! Let me -
But suddenly, Pinky’s face goes limp, and her eyelids snap shut as, from within, she ensnares the Jackal, drawing him back into the chambers of torment that exist only in her mind.
Once more, her suspended body takes on an air of peaceful tranquility from inside the anti-gravity chamber. After a few seconds of silence, we cut to black.
The End
Dune: Joey Flash...
The whispered name blows away the darkness, and its echo fades away into the burning desert sky. The golden sun sits just above the horizon, painting the sky around it a dull crimson hue and the bottom of nearby clouds a bright shade of pink. Deeper hues of purple and blue drench the sky higher up.
We pan over, and the sky becomes dark and full of stars before we see the the up-close face of Dune. With the constellations as a backdrop, his black mask and icy blue eyes reflect the dying light of day as his deep voice fills the air.
Dune: Here we are, Joey. This is it. For more than 8 months I’ve been forced to endure your insufferable pesting. For nearly a year the thought of Joey Flash has never been far from front and center. All the petty bullshit you marred my Spring with; all the times you crossed the line into my personal affairs this Summer; the one time I crossed into yours this Fall…
And now, as Winter is upon us, you needn’t wonder what the defining moment of the season will be:
One.
You’ve had your laughs. You’ve had your cries. You’ve had your win...but at One, Joey...at One, you’ll finally get what’s been coming to you since we started this dance so long ago: a crippling defeat at the hands of the baddest motherfucker in the business.
You’ve earned it, Joey - more so than anyone else on the roster today. You’re the very worst sort of person, painting me black when you knew the horrible truth all along. You ought to be ashamed, and knowing your scarred psyche - which was ruined long before you joined the WCF - you ARE ashamed. But you’ll continue to say it anyway; you’ll say that it was ME who killed your son, not the Jackal. You know better, but as I’ve said, you fear the truth; you fear the Jackal.
Perhaps if I told you the news, you’d reconsider your stance.
Perhaps if I told you what’s become of him, you’d break off the lie that taints your son’s death...
Fuck you. I don’t want your respect, Joey. I don’t want your trust. By now I couldn’t care less whether or not you claim to the masses that I’m the guilty party. To most it comes off as a cheap way to sell tickets, so congratulations on tarnishing your boy’s legacy by getting a few more deadbeats to care about this cute little deathmatch you’ve arranged for the two of us. They would have bought tickets anyway, and not to see you hop around and wrench at elbows and ankles. They want to see me murdering motherfuckers - Dune: the killer of children, for christ’s sake...at least according to a dead one’s father.
The mindless masses love to see me tear apart my victims in the ring - even if they don’t cheer it anymore - because they feel safe from my wrath. For them it’s like watching a movie or playing a video game; seeing the violence from a good, safe distance somehow gives them the feeling of being totally immersed in it. But you won’t be so lucky, Joey. You’ll be the one immersed in it FOR them, sacrificing your mind and your body for the purpose of giving the crowd something to care about; for the purpose of giving them something bloody and broken to gawk and scream at. Your freshly pinned, mangled body will be a sight they’ll never forget. People all around the world will remember where they were and what they were doing on the night Dune sounded Joey Flash’s death knell before burying him in the center of the ring.
Buried, Joey - like father, like son.
You did bury him, right? Or did you scatter his ashes to the wind? It doesn’t matter. He’s gone, and I’m so fucking sick of talking about him...
We’ve got a fight on the horizon, not a therapy session. You may think they’re one and the same, coming at me with a father’s wrath and using One as a stage to avenge your boy. But as usual, Joey, you’re playing the fool, because what you’re after’s already been had.
It was me who avenged your boy.
It was me who dealt with his killer.
I ended the Jackal’s reign of terror...and this Sunday at One, I’m collecting my due.
Dune’s eyes flick away from the screen and toward the setting sun, the bottom of which now dips below the horizon behind us. The night behind Dune has deepened, and the stars gleam down with ever increasing brightness. His eyes dart back to the screen before he continues.
Dune: I neutralized the threat, Joey. Does that anger you - that I’m the one who outsmarted him? It shouldn’t. You should be thanking me, but we both know you’d never stoop so low - not after running with such a black and terrible lie for months on end. Does it anger you that I’m the one who young Christian will be thanking in the afterlife, should it truly exist? The man you’ve loved to hate since you realized I was set to conquer the WCF just did what dear old dad was never going to do. Dear old dad couldn’t face his fears. Dear old dad couldn’t face the Jackal. Brave of you to face me instead, I suppose, but since when was bravery an open door to success? Most brave men fail wholeheartedly. Some die on the battlefield, others perish at sea...still others are left battered, broken, and lifeless inside the squared circle.
You’re in over your head, Joey. This is One, the biggest event of the year, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me from capping off 2015 with the most deserved victory of my rookie campaign. So go ahead and fight for false-vengeance, if that’s all you’ve got to cling to anymore. But I want you to remember one thing - just one thing: it’s ME who’s fighting for vengeance at One, not you. I want you to remember it when I’ve got you just where I want you - when your knees are weak and you’re feeling faint from loss of blood. I want you to remember it as I raise you up on high and crush your spine against my uplifted knee. I want you to remember it, Joey, should I have to put you out of your misery like some rabid dog who doesn’t know his meal from his master.
The vengeance I’m after isn’t for targeting my fellow Sentinels all those months ago. Occulo has since proved his worth to me, turning his back to me since returning to the WCF. And even though I was madder than I’d been in many years as I watched you shatter Howard Black’s arm, he, too, has proven that our friendship - our so-called “brotherhood” - didn’t have the same meaning to us both. The Sentinels abandoned me on their own accord. They fled, which is the exact opposite of what a sentinel does by definition, and so now there’s only one who remains. But I don’t stand for the fallen, nor do I stand against the rising. I stand for myself alone...and I stand against one man: Joey Flash.
Joey Flash, who chose to interweave his life with mine.
Joey Flash, whose arrogance drew the likeminded Jackal his way.
Joey Flash, whose foolishness got his own son killed.
No one but you can take blame for the death of your son, Joey. The Jackal is inherently evil - you saw enough of him to know that. He was going to kill either way, whether it was Christian or some other forsaken soul. And had you stayed out of it - had you allowed our business to remain in the ring, as I warned you to do - your son would still be alive today. But YOU got involved. YOU caught the eye of the Jackal, Joey...and in making me out to be responsible for his horrible crimes, you’ve proven just what kind of man you are: one who’s hollow; one who’s empty; one who’s alone.
Like the Jackal, really. So much like the Jackal. And look what’s become of him now...
The only remaining sliver of sun is on fire now, burning a deep crimson as reflected in Dune’s mask. It bloodies the whites of his eyes, though the piercing, icy blue still stands out in the center. He glares into the screen, and his face takes on an almost inhuman appearance as he continues.
Dune: You cling to me like a disease, Joey. You’re a cancer; a malignancy that would grow and spread out of control if it wasn’t treated with relentless savagery and aggression - with unequivocal malignance - which is exactly what I’ll be treating you with at One. Both you and the Jackal thought it wise to bathe me in the fires of torment, and for far too long I allowed them to persist. But now I’ve taken the power back from the infinitely greater threat of the two of you, and nothing is going to stop me from finishing the job this Sunday.
Nothing.
And now, as the sun dies on the eve of the climax - as the hourglass empties on a year of mutual torment and destruction - that age-old question you asked me on the sands rings out in my mind once more:
“How’s it going to end?”
It ends with me eradicating the malignancy you became so long ago.
It ends with me putting you down once and for all.
It ends here, Joey…
It ends at One.
Dune glares at the screen as his words sink in. The horizon behind us has all but swallowed the setting sun, and he turns his eyes that way to see the very top of the fiery sphere just before its sheathed entirely. As twilight falls, he walks out of the frame, leaving the coming night and its constellations behind in his wake.
But we don’t fade to black - not yet.
Instead, we pan over, revealing a large plateau about fifty yards off. At first, nothing seems remarkable about it. But as the shot fades to a closer view of the plateau’s rocky base, a steel door becomes apparent. We zoom in on it, passing through when it comes to fill the screen. Beyond its borders lies the eery silence of a vast subterranean complex. We fade into a shot of an ill-lit hall; a steep, steel-grated staircase; and finally the doorway to a room wherein the hum of electricity replaces the silence.
We pass through the doorway slowly, and the camera rotates even slower to reveal the source of the sound.
The Jackal stares into the screen through Pinky’s haunting, wide-open eyes. Her body is suspended on the air within the anti-gravity chamber, and once more, nothing moves aside from the features of her face. She calls out hesitantly as we approach.
Pinky: Help me!
But as soon as he says it, a look of terror comes over her face...
We don’t hear it - we don’t feel it - but something from within her is calling out, clawing to get at the surface. It’s Pinky herself, and just before she grabs hold of the Jackal and draws him back down, he screams vicariously through her.
Pinky: Let me oouuut!
Her eyes snap shut, and just after they do, we cut to black.
In the darkness, the Jackal’s labored breathing reaches our ears once more. After a few seconds, the snap of a finger births a flame in the palm of none other than Pinky,who stands before us alive and well here inside one of countless chambers of her mind. Our viewpoint is that of the Jackal as she closes the small gap between them, holding the flame up to her chest as he speaks.
Jackal: Please...please stop.
His panicked breathing persists, and Pinky lifts the flame to her mouth before speaking through it in reply.
Pinky: Shhh...just breathe…
Breathe.
With that, she draws back and blows through the flame. The Jackal screams to see it draw near, and as fire engulfs the screen, we cut to black.
