Fire in the Sky II: ...The Last Time
Mar 26, 2016 10:45:20 GMT -5
Joey Flash, 6ix God, and 1 more like this
Post by God King Dune on Mar 26, 2016 10:45:20 GMT -5
Dune’s lifeless face fills the screen. Silence pervades for a long moment before his eyes flick open, and he inhales deeply before looking around in a panic. We move away from his face to reveal the small prison he finds himself in. It’s a cube shaped holding cell whose walls are made of what appears to be living tissue. It’s wet and slimy, and it pulsates slowly as if it were breathing. Dune plugs his nose at the smell, and his panic doesn’t fade as he feels around. There doesn’t seem to be any way out of the tiny prison, and so he does what he does best - throws his weight around.
SCHLOP
SCHLOP
SCHHHHHHLOP
On his third attempt, Dune manages to break through, and he shoots out into a vast open chamber. Panic once more takes him as he looks down, expecting gravity to take hold and send him to the bottom of the pit...but it doesn’t. The tug of gravity is nowhere to be found here, and instead of falling, he floats toward the center of the tubular chamber.
Dune: What the fuck…
He mutters it to himself before he realizes he isn’t taking in any air. He looks up and tries to swim toward the lights above him, though he merely plays the fool as he continues to float in the void. Finally he reaches the other side of the vast pit, and he begins to climb. A little under a minute passes before he reaches the top, and the first thing he sees is a row of strange space suits. He immediately grabs for one, placing an oxygen mask over his mouth as he inhales deeply. His lungs fill with sweet air, and he looks around as he begins to recover from his prolonged state of panic...which hasn’t completely subsided.
Suddenly he hears a familiar voice sound out a scream. He turns toward it, and he sees a long, metallic corridor with a faint light at the end. He tries to sprint toward it, but the lack of gravity slows him down. He grabs hold of the walls and flings himself forward toward the light as the screams continue.
Finally he reaches the end of the corridor to the sight of something horrible. There on a raised, flat surface lies a naked Freeman. He’s face down and ass up as a large machine with a long probe attached to the end bears down on him. All around him are little grey aliens. Their eyes are the size of volleyballs and are pitch black, and they turn his way and begin scurrying about. Freeman looks up in time to see him.
Freeman: Dune! Fucking Christ, Dune - get me out of here!!
The probe continues to close on Freeman’s clenched sphincter as Dune spring into action. He slams into a group of brave alien greys who make to attack him, knocking them to the floor before he begins stomping on their bulbous heads. They smash and spew brainmatter every which way before the others shriek and attack Dune. He DDTs one, spewing more brainmatter upon impact. There two left, and he manages to Sandstorm both before finally reaching the controls for the probe.
Freeman: HURRY!!!!
With luck on his side, Dune presses the correct button on the first try just as the cold metal touches up against Freeman’s precious asshole. The old man screams to feel it, though the sound of the machine powering down fills him instead with relief.
Dune: Holy fuck…
Freeman: Unbind me...let’s get the fuck out of here!
Dune unstraps Freeman and tosses him his hooded robe. He slips into it.
Dune: Wait...this whole time you’ve been freeballing under that thing?
Freeman: Are you really surprised? I mean...why do you think I wear it?
Dune shakes his head as the two make for a sign that clearly and conveniently reads “Exit” in the Queen’s English. Dune bursts through the door...and both he and Freeman fall out of the UFO and speed toward the ground. They scream in unrivaled panic as the ground rushes up to greet them, but just before they smash into it, the force of gravity relents and allows them a soft landing. They look up a the ship then back toward one another.
Dune: Right...let’s go.
The sun is coming up now, and Dune and Freeman crest a hill to view downtown Chicago gleaming nearby.
Dune: I guess we should be thankful. The little shits saved us the final 200 mile stretch.
Freeman: And my rectum’s still intact. Good shit.
The two make their way toward the city, and as they disappear down the hill, we cut away.
Backstage at the arena, we find Dune alone in his locker room. He straps some tape around his knuckles, and in biting off the last bit, his icy blue eyes find the screen.
Dune: Pretty quick turnaround, eh, Johnny? One minute I’m sky-high in an alien spacecraft...the next I’m back here addressing you on solid ground. Who knows where you are right now. I’d like to think you’re somewhere closeby strapping on your boots, but who’s to say you aren’t up in your own personal UFO getting ready for your bout with me. And I hope you ARE ready, Johnny, because the two of us have been waiting for this one for a long, long time. I can assure you there’s nothing alien about a WCF ring, though I can’t say the same of the one I’m set to square off against. So be it. In the end we’re both mere mortals, and explosive force and fire will kill us one and the same.
C4 they call it. The ring is rigged, Johnny, but this match is anything but. I won’t sit here and say you’ve got no chance. It’d be an outright lie. You’re an up and comer, and should you best me tonight, you’ll have proven yourself more worthy than the entire roster, save the World Champion. And though you may have had me in your sights for months on end, it’s that Title you truly seek. And rightfully so. Any man or woman who doesn’t is a damned fool...that, or they’re simply aware they’ll never be able to grasp the gold. I did. You know I did. And that’s why you’ve chosen me to wage your war against. You see me and you see a man that will take you places; a man who, should you defeat, will put your name on the map. But I have no intention of allowing you to make a name for yourself by pinning me. It’s going to take everything you have and then some to get the best of me...that and a good deal of luck.
Have you scouted the ring yet, Johnny? Do you know just what to do to avoid me slamming you down up on the C4? It’s what I intend to do, and after all you’ve done to me in the days and weeks leading up to tonight, I have little doubt that I’m about to blow you the fuck up. And I mean that in the most literal sense. The storm’s been building and building - nearing and nearing - and now it’s finally overhead. The fires don’t take sides, but I know how to tame them, Johnny; I know how to start them. I’ve done nothing if not prove that very fact. Now it’s your turn.
Prove to me your words aren’t hollow, Johnny.
Prove to me you are what you claim to be - the next big thing in this industry.
You’ve been at it a long time. You’re no stranger to the squared circle I dominated for nigh on a year. And though I haven’t worn the World Title in many months, I’m still capable of showcasing the talent necessary to hold it - to win it back. But before you can wear it, Johnny, you’ve got to prove yourself to the WCF Faithful. You’ve got to prove yourself to me. Most of all though...you’ve got to prove yourself to yourself. Because in the end, it’s you and you alone who’s holding himself back. The same can be said of every man and woman who step foot in a WCF ring.
So what’s it going to be, Johnny? Is tonight your lucky night? Or have you surpassed luck? Have you prepared yourself to seize glory and tie it to your name for all-time?
Have you, Johnny?
Dune rises and wrings his neck before he makes for the door. He grabs hold of the handle, and just before he pulls it open, he finds the screen once more.
Dune: Come on. Let’s play with fire.
He opens the door, and a song plays throughout the halls as Dune strides through en route to the ring. The door closes, leaving us alone in the room. But the music continues to play, and it grows louder and doesn’t cease as we fade to black.
SCHLOP
SCHLOP
SCHHHHHHLOP
On his third attempt, Dune manages to break through, and he shoots out into a vast open chamber. Panic once more takes him as he looks down, expecting gravity to take hold and send him to the bottom of the pit...but it doesn’t. The tug of gravity is nowhere to be found here, and instead of falling, he floats toward the center of the tubular chamber.
Dune: What the fuck…
He mutters it to himself before he realizes he isn’t taking in any air. He looks up and tries to swim toward the lights above him, though he merely plays the fool as he continues to float in the void. Finally he reaches the other side of the vast pit, and he begins to climb. A little under a minute passes before he reaches the top, and the first thing he sees is a row of strange space suits. He immediately grabs for one, placing an oxygen mask over his mouth as he inhales deeply. His lungs fill with sweet air, and he looks around as he begins to recover from his prolonged state of panic...which hasn’t completely subsided.
Suddenly he hears a familiar voice sound out a scream. He turns toward it, and he sees a long, metallic corridor with a faint light at the end. He tries to sprint toward it, but the lack of gravity slows him down. He grabs hold of the walls and flings himself forward toward the light as the screams continue.
Finally he reaches the end of the corridor to the sight of something horrible. There on a raised, flat surface lies a naked Freeman. He’s face down and ass up as a large machine with a long probe attached to the end bears down on him. All around him are little grey aliens. Their eyes are the size of volleyballs and are pitch black, and they turn his way and begin scurrying about. Freeman looks up in time to see him.
Freeman: Dune! Fucking Christ, Dune - get me out of here!!
The probe continues to close on Freeman’s clenched sphincter as Dune spring into action. He slams into a group of brave alien greys who make to attack him, knocking them to the floor before he begins stomping on their bulbous heads. They smash and spew brainmatter every which way before the others shriek and attack Dune. He DDTs one, spewing more brainmatter upon impact. There two left, and he manages to Sandstorm both before finally reaching the controls for the probe.
Freeman: HURRY!!!!
With luck on his side, Dune presses the correct button on the first try just as the cold metal touches up against Freeman’s precious asshole. The old man screams to feel it, though the sound of the machine powering down fills him instead with relief.
Dune: Holy fuck…
Freeman: Unbind me...let’s get the fuck out of here!
Dune unstraps Freeman and tosses him his hooded robe. He slips into it.
Dune: Wait...this whole time you’ve been freeballing under that thing?
Freeman: Are you really surprised? I mean...why do you think I wear it?
Dune shakes his head as the two make for a sign that clearly and conveniently reads “Exit” in the Queen’s English. Dune bursts through the door...and both he and Freeman fall out of the UFO and speed toward the ground. They scream in unrivaled panic as the ground rushes up to greet them, but just before they smash into it, the force of gravity relents and allows them a soft landing. They look up a the ship then back toward one another.
Dune: Right...let’s go.
The sun is coming up now, and Dune and Freeman crest a hill to view downtown Chicago gleaming nearby.
Dune: I guess we should be thankful. The little shits saved us the final 200 mile stretch.
Freeman: And my rectum’s still intact. Good shit.
The two make their way toward the city, and as they disappear down the hill, we cut away.
Backstage at the arena, we find Dune alone in his locker room. He straps some tape around his knuckles, and in biting off the last bit, his icy blue eyes find the screen.
Dune: Pretty quick turnaround, eh, Johnny? One minute I’m sky-high in an alien spacecraft...the next I’m back here addressing you on solid ground. Who knows where you are right now. I’d like to think you’re somewhere closeby strapping on your boots, but who’s to say you aren’t up in your own personal UFO getting ready for your bout with me. And I hope you ARE ready, Johnny, because the two of us have been waiting for this one for a long, long time. I can assure you there’s nothing alien about a WCF ring, though I can’t say the same of the one I’m set to square off against. So be it. In the end we’re both mere mortals, and explosive force and fire will kill us one and the same.
C4 they call it. The ring is rigged, Johnny, but this match is anything but. I won’t sit here and say you’ve got no chance. It’d be an outright lie. You’re an up and comer, and should you best me tonight, you’ll have proven yourself more worthy than the entire roster, save the World Champion. And though you may have had me in your sights for months on end, it’s that Title you truly seek. And rightfully so. Any man or woman who doesn’t is a damned fool...that, or they’re simply aware they’ll never be able to grasp the gold. I did. You know I did. And that’s why you’ve chosen me to wage your war against. You see me and you see a man that will take you places; a man who, should you defeat, will put your name on the map. But I have no intention of allowing you to make a name for yourself by pinning me. It’s going to take everything you have and then some to get the best of me...that and a good deal of luck.
Have you scouted the ring yet, Johnny? Do you know just what to do to avoid me slamming you down up on the C4? It’s what I intend to do, and after all you’ve done to me in the days and weeks leading up to tonight, I have little doubt that I’m about to blow you the fuck up. And I mean that in the most literal sense. The storm’s been building and building - nearing and nearing - and now it’s finally overhead. The fires don’t take sides, but I know how to tame them, Johnny; I know how to start them. I’ve done nothing if not prove that very fact. Now it’s your turn.
Prove to me your words aren’t hollow, Johnny.
Prove to me you are what you claim to be - the next big thing in this industry.
You’ve been at it a long time. You’re no stranger to the squared circle I dominated for nigh on a year. And though I haven’t worn the World Title in many months, I’m still capable of showcasing the talent necessary to hold it - to win it back. But before you can wear it, Johnny, you’ve got to prove yourself to the WCF Faithful. You’ve got to prove yourself to me. Most of all though...you’ve got to prove yourself to yourself. Because in the end, it’s you and you alone who’s holding himself back. The same can be said of every man and woman who step foot in a WCF ring.
So what’s it going to be, Johnny? Is tonight your lucky night? Or have you surpassed luck? Have you prepared yourself to seize glory and tie it to your name for all-time?
Have you, Johnny?
Dune rises and wrings his neck before he makes for the door. He grabs hold of the handle, and just before he pulls it open, he finds the screen once more.
Dune: Come on. Let’s play with fire.
He opens the door, and a song plays throughout the halls as Dune strides through en route to the ring. The door closes, leaving us alone in the room. But the music continues to play, and it grows louder and doesn’t cease as we fade to black.
