Post by God King Dune on Jul 11, 2018 20:45:39 GMT -5
The crackling of static precedes the close up image of a vintage radio, which fades in as the dial scans for a healthy transmission. It slows but ultimately passes on a spanish broadcast, does the same for a revved up preacher in the middle of a sermon, and finally, when the soothing voice of an A/M DJ breaches the static, the dial comes to a stop.
DJ: Strange news out of the Furnace Creek area on this Friday the 13th. Scientists have been tracking some unusual seismic activity in the region, particularly in and around the Ubehebe Crater. Usually it wouldn’t be much cause for concern, but what with reportedly over 100,000 fans descending on the crater for WCF’s XIII Night Two tomorrow, officials are scrambling. KBOV will be broadcasting live from the Crater, and by god it’d be a shame if they had to cancel such a monumental event.
The camera begins to zoom away from the vintage radio, revealing the blue sky above and the dead earth below.
DJ: Can’t say I’d want to be the one to deliver the bad news to our very own “local boy does good,” Dune, who of course is both hosting the event as well as putting the WCF World Title on the line against none other than Teo -
The sun beats down on a large, calloused hand that enters the frame and terminates the transmission, at which point we cut to a wideshot.
Dune stands on the lip of the Ubehebe Crater, the searing Mojave sun assaulting him as he watches over the WCF ring crew below. A network of trusses prop up giant speakers and the even more impressive XIIINightTwoTron that stands at the far end of the Crater. In the pit, the workers are nearing completion of the ring itself, and Dune remains transfixed on it as his deep voice booms through his mask.
Dune: It’s all coming together. I’ll be the first to admit I had my doubts about the whole thing. When Corey Black asked me to host night two of the first XIII of the year, my first thought was, “Why?” I’m a fighter, not a promoter, not a master of ceremonies. But when I was told I had the pick of the venue, I knew what I had to do.
I had to accept the offer and play host. But more importantly, I had to defend the World Title at the Ubehebe Crater, the most formidable natural coliseum known to man.
His icy blue eyes flick up at the screen.
Dune: Does it suit you, Teo?
I hope so. I didn’t know who I’d be up against when I chose this hole in the desert as the site for XIII. When I saw your name next to mine on the card, though, I couldn’t help but take your age old advice and smile. Not only was I set to face off against a worthy opponent, but no setting could have been more befitting for our World Title match. Sure, we’ll be in the middle of the Mojave Desert, where I was born and raised, but more importantly we’ll both be privy to the wrath of the sun. You bear the great solar fire as a namesake - Teo Del Sol - and even though it will have set by the time we meet in the ring, its heat won’t subside. It will remain long after the opening bell of XIII. It will remain after the stars and their constellations light up the night sky. And when the time comes to finally put you down - to unleash the Sandstorm on you so as to remain WCF World Champion - it, too, will remain.
Yeah, I know...look at me, already calling my shot like the rest of the roster does on a weekly basis. But unlike most of them, I’ve afforded myself the right to do so. I’ve been nothing if not dominant this year. Since my return at One in January, I’ve run through almost the entire federation, as is expected of any legitimate World Champ. But I don’t need to remind you of my dominance, Teo. You know it all too well. After all, it’s only been a few months since I ran through you. I remember the whole saga like it was yesterday, and I hope you can say the same. I hope you’ve learned from it and come out swinging this time, because as scary as it may sound, I’ve only gotten better since then.
Now’s not the time to get into all that though. Our history runs deeper than most would realize, but we’ll cross that bridge later. It’s essential that we do, but for now, allow me to acknowledge your worth, Teo. It’s something you’re surely longing to hear from someone other than yourself. There are few on the roster who give a single fuck about you, but believe it or not, I’m one of them. I remember a time when you were one of the most promising up and comers in the business. I remember a time when the very idea that Teo Del Sol would have zero World Title reigns by mid-2018 would have been utter folly. I remember a time when you were hungry, Teo, and I like to think that somewhere deep down, those hunger pangs still exist.
I like to think so, but I can’t be sure. Because despite remembering how good you WERE, I can’t for the life of me remember the last time you met even the lowest expectation I set for you.
I know you’re not out to prove yourself to me, but the fact remains that I expect more out of you, given the potential you’ve worked so hard to squander. Likewise, I expect a certain level of competency out of an opponent when the World Title’s on the line, a certain level of tenacity, of vigor...of desire. So before you make a potentially huge mistake in stepping into the ring with me tomorrow night, take a look in the mirror and ask yourself if you truly belong there. Ask yourself if you even want to be WCF World Champion. Because even though I’m 100% confident in my ability to absolutely destroy you amidst 100,000 people in the deathly heat of the desert, there’s no question you’ve got a chance of walking out of this crater with the World Title around your waist.
And you know what, Teo? I’d be glad to see it.
Sure I’d likely be out fucking cold, seeing how that’s what it’s going to take to put me down for three, but if you can rise up and defeat one of the greatest World Champions in WCF history to kick off your first Title reign, there’d be a little piece of me celebrating right alongside you. And if it comes to pass, there won’t be any doubt that you’ve earned it, because I’m going to come at you with everything I’ve got. I’m not going to lie down for you and make it easy, like you’re not-so-secretly hoping I do. If you pin me tomorrow night, it’s going to be because you worked harder than you have in your entire life, and it’s damn sure going to be the crowning achievement of a storied career.
But the keyword in all that is if.
And it’s a big if, Teo...just like it always is with you.
His voice cuts off as the earth shudders beneath his feet, followed by a deep rumbling somewhere far below. The workers in the crater stop what they’re doing, but after a few seconds they get back to it, double time now as they near completion. Dune’s eyes turn from them to the screen as he continues.
Dune: If the crater doesn’t implode before tomorrow night, I can’t help but wonder which Teo I’ll be getting. If it’s the old Teo who was shot out of a cannon to start his career, who proved he could be one of the best in the business, who’s had numerous legitimate reigns albeit with lesser titles, then I’ll consider myself lucky. But if it’s the new Teo who almost never fails to underachieve despite the bar being set so low, whose only consistent attribute of late has been a staggering ability to buckle under pressure, who can’t even seem to get a grip on who Teo Del Sol actually IS, then I’m afraid the main event of XIII night two will be anything but a competitive affair. No one wants that, least of all me.
Sure, the task ahead of you is daunting. It may even seem impossible, but leave it to me to tell you it’s not. It’s damn close, but I’m not infallible. I’m not indestructible. That said, I’m more capable of causing destruction - of exploiting both physical and mental weakness - than anyone on the roster. And given your delicate disposition and tendency to crumble in the face of superiority, no matter how rewarding standing tall would be, it’s only realistic for me to have absolutely no faith in you tomorrow night, sad as it is to say.
All the same though, this match is incredibly important to me, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said it wasn’t the most important of your career. This isn’t your first shot at the World Title, nor is it your best chance of winning it. You failed wholeheartedly to seize that golden opportunity, allowed it to slip right through your fingers in typical Teo Del Sol fashion. And yet, here you are with another chance, slim as it may be. Once again you’ve got a massive opportunity in front of you, but unfortunately you’re up against the last person the real you wants to share the ring with for the World Title. The real you would prefer a do-over of WAR, something at least somewhat even. Instead, what lies before us is decidedly uneven, unfair.
What you’ve got is the biggest challenge of your career on deck. What you’ve got is the bleak, seemingly hopeless task of erasing months - years even - of cowardice and mediocrity with a single win over the greatest World Champion of our time. Meanwhile, what I’ve got is more motivation than ever to retain the Title, what with Ultimate Showdown on the horizon. What I’ve got is the ability, the desire, and the will to drive you straight through the thresher tomorrow night, along with any hope you have of besting me for the belt.
In short, what you’ve got is me at the height of my power. Meanwhile, what I’ve got is YOU, Teo Del Sol, stuck way down in a rut you can’t seem to claw your way out of.
If that’s not unfair, I don’t know what is.
He turns and gazes down into the crater.
Dune: And as if all that wasn’t enough, don’t forget the Crater, Teo.
Don’t forget that I’ve got home field advantage.
Another tremor shakes the earth, and Dune shakes his head, knowing full well the source of the rumbling and the inconvenience of its timing. The ring crew, having completed construction, high tail it out of the crater, and he forgets the troubling source of the tremors to admire their work from on high.
But he’s allowed only a few seconds to gaze upon the XIII night two set up before a buzzing comes from inside his sandrail. He walks over and picks up his indestructible Nokia Brick, glancing a text message that reads, “We’re here.” He hops in the sandrail, and the engine comes alive with a roar. The camera remains stationary as he rides off in the direction of home, and after a moment, the scene fades into the next.
Dune sits at a solid wooden table within his humble desert cabin. Across from him are two men, one in a suit with a badge that reads “CA Parks Dept,” the name “Roger Olmstead” beneath it, and another in a white lab coat with a name tag that reads “Dr. Doak - Seismologist.” Each one tries their best to keep their eyes on Dune as opposed to the massive rottweiler who stares at them from the floor behind her master. We pick up with them mid-conversation.
Dune: No.
Olmstead: I’m afraid it’s not up for debate, Mr. Dune. As head of the California Parks Department the Ubehebe Crater falls under my jurisdiction. If I say XIII is off, it’s off.
Dune: You gave me your word on this, Roger. You realize there’s at least 100,000 people on their way to the crater right now. The revenue tomorrow night’s going to generate alone should sway your hand.
Olmstead: I’m aware, but these earthquakes...it’s just not safe. Doctor Doak has informed me that such intense seismic activity has never been recorded in the region, and its centered directly beneath the crater.
Dune’s eyes flick over at Dr. Doak, who gulps as he’s addressed.
Dune: You know what they are, right? What’s causing the tremors?
Doak: I’ve...uh...it’s either a deep volcanic plume beneath the crater, or possibly -
Dune: Worms. Giant fucking worms.
Dr. Doak furrows his brow, as does Olmstead.
Dune: I’m talking miles long. Ancient things, cryptids in the eyes of the public, but I’ve seen them for myself. There’s no denying their existence.
Olmstead: Now, now, Mr. Dune, this isn’t the time to let our imaginations run wild. The only speculation I’m willing to trust at this point is that of my esteemed colleague here, and -
Dune: I’m not speculating. I agree the timing is unfortunate, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let a few sandworms ruin XIII tomorrow night.
Olmstead: Then consider yourself damned.
Dune: No. It just so happens I know how to shut them up, so to speak. Give me twelve hours. If the tremors haven’t stopped by then, I’ll personally cancel the event. Your department doesn’t have to play any part in it. After all, it IS an election year, right? Calling off something so highly anticipated for so many people - so many VOTERS - would surely wreak havoc on your chances of re-election.
Olmstead sits back in his chair, nodding his head as he considers the proposition. Finally he speaks.
Olmstead: Twelve hours. But after that, schedule a press conference and be done with it.
Dune: No need.
The two shake hands, and Olmstead gets up to leave. Dr. Doak nods nervously in Dune’s direction before following suit, and Dune calls out to him.
Dune: I like that look, the lab coat and all. Makes you look very...professional. Very scientific. You always wear it?
Doak: Um...most times. You always wear that mask?
Dune grins.
Dune: Touche. Not always though. Underneath it’s...messy. Not a pretty sight. I won’t make you judge for yourself. Just keep an eye on that seismic activity.
Dr. Doak nods before following Olmstead out the door. As it closes, we cut to a closeup of Dune’s face. He reaches back and unclasps his mask, removing it to reveal the deep, jagged scarring on his mouth, chin, and jawline as his eyes find the screen.
Dune: See what I mean? Messy. It’s a butcher job. No one wants to see this. I wear my mask for a reason, more of a courtesy than anything. But I’ve grown accustomed to it, and I’d be lying if I said I feel a bit off without it.
I get the feeling you can relate, Teo. You’ve gone without your mask before in favor of a pair of red-lensed sunglasses. It lead you to change your name to Teddy Blaze, to embrace your inner demons and unleash them on the WCF. Teddy was the anti-Teo, the dark side of the sun, if you will. Gone was the happy go lucky man who carved out a niche into WCF Mountain, and in his stead, Blaze sought to do what Teo never could: change the very landscape of the WCF
Needless to say Teddy failed in that endeavor, but that’s not to say you failed as him altogether.
Holding the Internet Title for almost half a year is no small feat, and it helped to establish your new persona as an up and comer...redundant as it was, seeing how you’d already established Teo Del Sol as such before plateauing with the People’s Title. Teo hit a wall, and instead of breaking through as Teo - as yourself - you thought it best to take off the mask and put on another...only to run sideways for a bit and find yourself face to face with that same wall. It’s the one that separates the good from the great. It’s the same one you’ve been pounding your fists on to no avail for years, even after giving up the red-lenses and donning your mask again.
As Blaze, you claimed you were all about the future and what was to come. You claimed the past was dead, that Teo Del Sol was dead. But here you are, Teo, alive and well. Am I to assume that now it’s Teddy’s turn to be “dead?” No, of course not. I don’t see it that way at all.
Truth is, Teo never died. You only tried to bury him for the sake of a new direction. You did the same with Teddy once you realized he’d run his course. But both men are one and the same, and in flip-flopping between the two, you haven’t been reborn. In fact it’s quite the opposite. You’ve staved off any sort of rebirth, unwittingly denying it from occurring. You’ve stayed the same, Teo. You’ve remained utterly stagnant, and it’s precisely because you lack direction. You lack the ability to move forward. All you did by taking off the mask and sliding a pair of glasses on was enable yourself to remain on the other side of greatness, to sidestep the responsibility each and every wrestler who aims at something more shares: that of upward mobility - meaningful progression - which you mistook as change for the sake of change.
Sure, your attitude changed when Blaze entered the fold. You said different shit and did the opposite of what you would have done as Teo. But with change, all we got was more of the same. All we got was disappointment, like waking up Christmas morning and opening up two different packages only to find two different pairs of socks.
And when it finally dawned on you that you’d have to work harder and do more if you ever wanted to hit the target you were aiming for - the WCF World Title - you didn’t man up and make meaningful changes. All you did was hang up your boots for a while. All you did was take off the mask and go home. You convinced yourself it was a break you needed, not a kick in the ass, not a shot of adrenaline to the heart. You convinced yourself some time off to reflect and collect your thoughts was the ticket to eventually being crowned WCF World Champion. But sadly, or perhaps laughably, your thought process was as flawed as ever, because solemn reflection is no substitute for passion, Teo. And if your flip-flopping from Teo to Teddy to Teo and your astounding lack of consistency in the ring of late has proven anything, it’s that you have almost zero passion left for this business.
Which begs the question: how am I supposed to take the threat you pose to my World Title seriously?
A voice rings out in response, though it offers no answer to the question. Its muffled by distance, and soon it gives way to the pounding double-bass of a heavy metal track blaring from somewhere in the desert...but Dune doesn’t have to guess where, and he grits his teeth in realization, putting his mask back on before he rises from the table. His rottweiler growls at the distorted music and follows him to the front door.
Dune: Stay, girl.
She whimpers but obeys, and we cut outside as Dune closes the door and hops in his sandrail. The stars are out and the moon is high as he speeds away toward the ruckus...toward the Ubehebe Crater some three miles away.
We catch up to him as the sandrail crests a hill, and the lighting installed in the crater by the WCF ring crew hours before glows in the distance as he speaks.
Dune: The gall…I’d say it’s unbelievable, but I should have known the tribes of the Mojave would descend on the crater tonight.
Don’t worry, Teo. I’ll run them off like an old man shoo-ing the neighbor kids off his lawn with a broom and a good shake of the fist. And while I’m out here, I suppose I’ll tend to the tremors that’ve got night two of XIII in jeopardy. That is, if I can get one of the worms to breach. It shouldn’t be too hard, what with the outlaws baiting them to the surface with all the vibrations they’re setting off. I’ll have to thank them before I disperse every last one of them...one way or the other.
A voice comes over the PA again, though all we’re able to make out are the words, “...Death Match,” before the heavy metal takes over once more. Dune closes on the glowing crater as he continues.
Dune: I hope I don’t do the same to you, Teo. The last thing I want to do is run you off again. Inconsistent and petty as you’ve become, your place in the WCF should never be in question. You’ve dug in and secured yourself as one to be feared by many...not all, but many. You are to the bottom feeders as I am to the midcarders - not one to be fucked with. That’s your baseline, and while you could be so much more, it’s not such a bad place to be for those content with an above average career trajectory.
But you’re not content with that. You want more, you want it all, despite lacking the wherewithal to go out and take it for your own. I have a feeling that, even given the odds, you’re building this match up in your head. You’re envisioning XIII as your grand coronation, the joyous end of a treacherous journey you’ve endured for three years. I have a feeling you’re getting your hopes up, Teo...and frankly I’d advise against it. Better men than you have made the same mistake prior to meeting me in the ring with the Title on the line, and almost all of them took their leave from the WCF shortly thereafter. The loss was too much for them, the heartache and devastation too much to bear. I don’t want that for you, but if you’re not at least somewhat prepared to go down in flames tomorrow night, it’s likely to happen. It’s incredibly safe to say that if I walk out of the crater tomorrow night with the World Title, you’ll walk away from the WCF forever.
Again, I don’t want that, Teo. But I don’t have any control over your feelings. I won’t have any control over how you choose to deal with the biggest, most gut wrenching loss of your career. All I can control is how I deal with you in the ring between bells, and as soon as I take control of the match - as soon as my mastery of the ring leads me to take control of you - it’s going to be all over.
He finally reaches the crater, and he slides to a halt on the lip, putting the sandrail in park and hopping out for a better look. The various tribes take up only the bottom portion of the crater, though there’s still roughly 10,000 of them, and they scream and shout as two oafs lumber around in the ring, trading shots with 2x4s and the infinite supply of beer bottles being thrown their way.
Dune: What a fucking disgrace.
Just then the heavy metal cuts and the outlaw announcer’s voice comes over the PA.
Outlaw: Look what we have here! Ladies and gentlemen, direct your attention to the top of the crater for a glimpse at a dead man walking - our very own Dune!
A spotlight shines on him, and he squints and covers his eyes as a roar goes up from the crowd below. The deathmatch continues in the ring, but all eyes are on Dune as the announcer continues.
Outlaw: Well what are you waiting for? Get him!
The collective of tribes lets out a war cry as all 10,000 charge up the steep slope toward him.
Dune: Shit.
But they don’t make it far before a massive earthquake rocks the crater, stopping them in their tracks. All goes quiet as the earth stands still again, but just as they’re about to continue their charge, another tremor goes up through the crater, this time accompanied by a monstrous roar from deep below the surface.
Outlaw: THEY’RE HERE! RUN!
And they do, all 10,000 of them. The stampede leaves dozens trampled to death, though soon the outlaws have dispersed, leaving Dune all alone. Another tremor goes up, and he follows the vibrations as they circle the crater. Stillness follows, and with it, his deep voice booms through his mask.
Dune: They’re here alright, but you won’t see me running. Much as you’d probably like XIII tomorrow night to be called off, Teo, I’m not going to let it happen. So don’t get your hopes up. Less than 24 hours from now, it’s me and you for the World Title. It’s the match that, two years ago, would have been so goddamn appetizing on paper. Now though...well, now it means far less. And it’s all thanks to you.
I still haven’t come up with a solid answer to the question I posed earlier. For the life of me I can’t find a reason to take the threat you pose to my World Title reign seriously. Since I came back into the fold this past December, you’ve done more to damage your credibility than anyone on the roster. You were a changed man by then, a far different Teo than I’d come to know in my initial run from 2015 to the spring of 2016. You’d taken some of the more sinister, devil may care aspects of Teddy Blaze and infused them with the sunshiny optimism of Teo Del Sol, creating a whole new version of yourself. But even when you combined the two diametrically opposed aspects of yourself, nothing came of it.
He stomps his foot, and another tremor goes up from far below, the shockwave traveling toward him as he continues.
Dune: I shouldn’t say nothing. You won the Omega Title at One in a harrowing matchup against your then partner Kyle Kemp and the ever menacing Michael X. It was an impressive feat, but it proved to be your final stand, your last significant achievement in the WCF up till now. I made my return to the ring that same night, and while at the time you were a double champion, you didn’t manage to successfully defend either of your titles before losing them both in short order.
One was the beginning of the end for you, Teo. In coming to the brink of significance, you cowered in the face of the responsibility that came with it. Rather than standing tall and giving yourself a fighting chance, you turned tail and fled with the hopes no one would see you for what you were...a farce, a paper champion too fragile to carry the weight of two lesser titles. And if you can’t do that, Teo, how can you ever expect to carry the colossal weight - the burden - of the WCF World Title on your shoulders.
You can’t. And in truth, no one expects you too.
I certainly don’t.
He stomps again, and this time the responding tremor is directly beneath him.
Dune: My one intention is to restore meaning to the Title. But if you won it, Teo, you’d only do it harm. I can’t allow that to happen. The age of paper champions that began when I lost the belt the first time is over. The age of fire has begun anew. And despite the insignificant part you’ve willed yourself to play since One, your place in the present is substantial. You’ve been given the honor of assisting me in restoring the Title to its former glory. A win over you tomorrow night will be my fourth defense since April, an achievement no World Champion has done since 2015, since the last great World Champion reigned…
Since me.
Again he stomps, and again the earth shakes beneath him.
Dune: Tomorrow night at XIII, we’re destined to take part in greatness. Yours is the part of unwilling sacrifice for something more than yourself. Mine is simply to see it through, to ENSURE that sacrifice.
All I ask is that you show some heart, Teo. Show me the heart of the sun. And when I tear it out of you - when I leave you mangled in the ring and walk out of the crater with the World Title in tow - you’ll have finally made something of yourself. After all this time, you’ll finally mean something to the WCF, even in a state you know all too well…
Defeat.
He stomps a final time, and he braces as the resulting tremor rises up through the earth’s crust. Finally, with a deafening roar, a giant sandworm covered in coarse fur shoots forth from the ground.
Without hesitation, Dune leaps onto the giant’s back, holding onto its fur as it dives below the surface once more. He disappears, but the sandworm doesn’t...not yet, anyway. Its back end continues to short forth from the desert floor as its front end simultaneously dives into it, forming a living archway atop the sands. Finally, its tail is revealed, and when it disappears beneath the earth, we cut.
DJ: Strange news out of the Furnace Creek area on this Friday the 13th. Scientists have been tracking some unusual seismic activity in the region, particularly in and around the Ubehebe Crater. Usually it wouldn’t be much cause for concern, but what with reportedly over 100,000 fans descending on the crater for WCF’s XIII Night Two tomorrow, officials are scrambling. KBOV will be broadcasting live from the Crater, and by god it’d be a shame if they had to cancel such a monumental event.
The camera begins to zoom away from the vintage radio, revealing the blue sky above and the dead earth below.
DJ: Can’t say I’d want to be the one to deliver the bad news to our very own “local boy does good,” Dune, who of course is both hosting the event as well as putting the WCF World Title on the line against none other than Teo -
The sun beats down on a large, calloused hand that enters the frame and terminates the transmission, at which point we cut to a wideshot.
Dune stands on the lip of the Ubehebe Crater, the searing Mojave sun assaulting him as he watches over the WCF ring crew below. A network of trusses prop up giant speakers and the even more impressive XIIINightTwoTron that stands at the far end of the Crater. In the pit, the workers are nearing completion of the ring itself, and Dune remains transfixed on it as his deep voice booms through his mask.
Dune: It’s all coming together. I’ll be the first to admit I had my doubts about the whole thing. When Corey Black asked me to host night two of the first XIII of the year, my first thought was, “Why?” I’m a fighter, not a promoter, not a master of ceremonies. But when I was told I had the pick of the venue, I knew what I had to do.
I had to accept the offer and play host. But more importantly, I had to defend the World Title at the Ubehebe Crater, the most formidable natural coliseum known to man.
His icy blue eyes flick up at the screen.
Dune: Does it suit you, Teo?
I hope so. I didn’t know who I’d be up against when I chose this hole in the desert as the site for XIII. When I saw your name next to mine on the card, though, I couldn’t help but take your age old advice and smile. Not only was I set to face off against a worthy opponent, but no setting could have been more befitting for our World Title match. Sure, we’ll be in the middle of the Mojave Desert, where I was born and raised, but more importantly we’ll both be privy to the wrath of the sun. You bear the great solar fire as a namesake - Teo Del Sol - and even though it will have set by the time we meet in the ring, its heat won’t subside. It will remain long after the opening bell of XIII. It will remain after the stars and their constellations light up the night sky. And when the time comes to finally put you down - to unleash the Sandstorm on you so as to remain WCF World Champion - it, too, will remain.
Yeah, I know...look at me, already calling my shot like the rest of the roster does on a weekly basis. But unlike most of them, I’ve afforded myself the right to do so. I’ve been nothing if not dominant this year. Since my return at One in January, I’ve run through almost the entire federation, as is expected of any legitimate World Champ. But I don’t need to remind you of my dominance, Teo. You know it all too well. After all, it’s only been a few months since I ran through you. I remember the whole saga like it was yesterday, and I hope you can say the same. I hope you’ve learned from it and come out swinging this time, because as scary as it may sound, I’ve only gotten better since then.
Now’s not the time to get into all that though. Our history runs deeper than most would realize, but we’ll cross that bridge later. It’s essential that we do, but for now, allow me to acknowledge your worth, Teo. It’s something you’re surely longing to hear from someone other than yourself. There are few on the roster who give a single fuck about you, but believe it or not, I’m one of them. I remember a time when you were one of the most promising up and comers in the business. I remember a time when the very idea that Teo Del Sol would have zero World Title reigns by mid-2018 would have been utter folly. I remember a time when you were hungry, Teo, and I like to think that somewhere deep down, those hunger pangs still exist.
I like to think so, but I can’t be sure. Because despite remembering how good you WERE, I can’t for the life of me remember the last time you met even the lowest expectation I set for you.
I know you’re not out to prove yourself to me, but the fact remains that I expect more out of you, given the potential you’ve worked so hard to squander. Likewise, I expect a certain level of competency out of an opponent when the World Title’s on the line, a certain level of tenacity, of vigor...of desire. So before you make a potentially huge mistake in stepping into the ring with me tomorrow night, take a look in the mirror and ask yourself if you truly belong there. Ask yourself if you even want to be WCF World Champion. Because even though I’m 100% confident in my ability to absolutely destroy you amidst 100,000 people in the deathly heat of the desert, there’s no question you’ve got a chance of walking out of this crater with the World Title around your waist.
And you know what, Teo? I’d be glad to see it.
Sure I’d likely be out fucking cold, seeing how that’s what it’s going to take to put me down for three, but if you can rise up and defeat one of the greatest World Champions in WCF history to kick off your first Title reign, there’d be a little piece of me celebrating right alongside you. And if it comes to pass, there won’t be any doubt that you’ve earned it, because I’m going to come at you with everything I’ve got. I’m not going to lie down for you and make it easy, like you’re not-so-secretly hoping I do. If you pin me tomorrow night, it’s going to be because you worked harder than you have in your entire life, and it’s damn sure going to be the crowning achievement of a storied career.
But the keyword in all that is if.
And it’s a big if, Teo...just like it always is with you.
His voice cuts off as the earth shudders beneath his feet, followed by a deep rumbling somewhere far below. The workers in the crater stop what they’re doing, but after a few seconds they get back to it, double time now as they near completion. Dune’s eyes turn from them to the screen as he continues.
Dune: If the crater doesn’t implode before tomorrow night, I can’t help but wonder which Teo I’ll be getting. If it’s the old Teo who was shot out of a cannon to start his career, who proved he could be one of the best in the business, who’s had numerous legitimate reigns albeit with lesser titles, then I’ll consider myself lucky. But if it’s the new Teo who almost never fails to underachieve despite the bar being set so low, whose only consistent attribute of late has been a staggering ability to buckle under pressure, who can’t even seem to get a grip on who Teo Del Sol actually IS, then I’m afraid the main event of XIII night two will be anything but a competitive affair. No one wants that, least of all me.
Sure, the task ahead of you is daunting. It may even seem impossible, but leave it to me to tell you it’s not. It’s damn close, but I’m not infallible. I’m not indestructible. That said, I’m more capable of causing destruction - of exploiting both physical and mental weakness - than anyone on the roster. And given your delicate disposition and tendency to crumble in the face of superiority, no matter how rewarding standing tall would be, it’s only realistic for me to have absolutely no faith in you tomorrow night, sad as it is to say.
All the same though, this match is incredibly important to me, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said it wasn’t the most important of your career. This isn’t your first shot at the World Title, nor is it your best chance of winning it. You failed wholeheartedly to seize that golden opportunity, allowed it to slip right through your fingers in typical Teo Del Sol fashion. And yet, here you are with another chance, slim as it may be. Once again you’ve got a massive opportunity in front of you, but unfortunately you’re up against the last person the real you wants to share the ring with for the World Title. The real you would prefer a do-over of WAR, something at least somewhat even. Instead, what lies before us is decidedly uneven, unfair.
What you’ve got is the biggest challenge of your career on deck. What you’ve got is the bleak, seemingly hopeless task of erasing months - years even - of cowardice and mediocrity with a single win over the greatest World Champion of our time. Meanwhile, what I’ve got is more motivation than ever to retain the Title, what with Ultimate Showdown on the horizon. What I’ve got is the ability, the desire, and the will to drive you straight through the thresher tomorrow night, along with any hope you have of besting me for the belt.
In short, what you’ve got is me at the height of my power. Meanwhile, what I’ve got is YOU, Teo Del Sol, stuck way down in a rut you can’t seem to claw your way out of.
If that’s not unfair, I don’t know what is.
He turns and gazes down into the crater.
Dune: And as if all that wasn’t enough, don’t forget the Crater, Teo.
Don’t forget that I’ve got home field advantage.
Another tremor shakes the earth, and Dune shakes his head, knowing full well the source of the rumbling and the inconvenience of its timing. The ring crew, having completed construction, high tail it out of the crater, and he forgets the troubling source of the tremors to admire their work from on high.
But he’s allowed only a few seconds to gaze upon the XIII night two set up before a buzzing comes from inside his sandrail. He walks over and picks up his indestructible Nokia Brick, glancing a text message that reads, “We’re here.” He hops in the sandrail, and the engine comes alive with a roar. The camera remains stationary as he rides off in the direction of home, and after a moment, the scene fades into the next.
Dune sits at a solid wooden table within his humble desert cabin. Across from him are two men, one in a suit with a badge that reads “CA Parks Dept,” the name “Roger Olmstead” beneath it, and another in a white lab coat with a name tag that reads “Dr. Doak - Seismologist.” Each one tries their best to keep their eyes on Dune as opposed to the massive rottweiler who stares at them from the floor behind her master. We pick up with them mid-conversation.
Dune: No.
Olmstead: I’m afraid it’s not up for debate, Mr. Dune. As head of the California Parks Department the Ubehebe Crater falls under my jurisdiction. If I say XIII is off, it’s off.
Dune: You gave me your word on this, Roger. You realize there’s at least 100,000 people on their way to the crater right now. The revenue tomorrow night’s going to generate alone should sway your hand.
Olmstead: I’m aware, but these earthquakes...it’s just not safe. Doctor Doak has informed me that such intense seismic activity has never been recorded in the region, and its centered directly beneath the crater.
Dune’s eyes flick over at Dr. Doak, who gulps as he’s addressed.
Dune: You know what they are, right? What’s causing the tremors?
Doak: I’ve...uh...it’s either a deep volcanic plume beneath the crater, or possibly -
Dune: Worms. Giant fucking worms.
Dr. Doak furrows his brow, as does Olmstead.
Dune: I’m talking miles long. Ancient things, cryptids in the eyes of the public, but I’ve seen them for myself. There’s no denying their existence.
Olmstead: Now, now, Mr. Dune, this isn’t the time to let our imaginations run wild. The only speculation I’m willing to trust at this point is that of my esteemed colleague here, and -
Dune: I’m not speculating. I agree the timing is unfortunate, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let a few sandworms ruin XIII tomorrow night.
Olmstead: Then consider yourself damned.
Dune: No. It just so happens I know how to shut them up, so to speak. Give me twelve hours. If the tremors haven’t stopped by then, I’ll personally cancel the event. Your department doesn’t have to play any part in it. After all, it IS an election year, right? Calling off something so highly anticipated for so many people - so many VOTERS - would surely wreak havoc on your chances of re-election.
Olmstead sits back in his chair, nodding his head as he considers the proposition. Finally he speaks.
Olmstead: Twelve hours. But after that, schedule a press conference and be done with it.
Dune: No need.
The two shake hands, and Olmstead gets up to leave. Dr. Doak nods nervously in Dune’s direction before following suit, and Dune calls out to him.
Dune: I like that look, the lab coat and all. Makes you look very...professional. Very scientific. You always wear it?
Doak: Um...most times. You always wear that mask?
Dune grins.
Dune: Touche. Not always though. Underneath it’s...messy. Not a pretty sight. I won’t make you judge for yourself. Just keep an eye on that seismic activity.
Dr. Doak nods before following Olmstead out the door. As it closes, we cut to a closeup of Dune’s face. He reaches back and unclasps his mask, removing it to reveal the deep, jagged scarring on his mouth, chin, and jawline as his eyes find the screen.
Dune: See what I mean? Messy. It’s a butcher job. No one wants to see this. I wear my mask for a reason, more of a courtesy than anything. But I’ve grown accustomed to it, and I’d be lying if I said I feel a bit off without it.
I get the feeling you can relate, Teo. You’ve gone without your mask before in favor of a pair of red-lensed sunglasses. It lead you to change your name to Teddy Blaze, to embrace your inner demons and unleash them on the WCF. Teddy was the anti-Teo, the dark side of the sun, if you will. Gone was the happy go lucky man who carved out a niche into WCF Mountain, and in his stead, Blaze sought to do what Teo never could: change the very landscape of the WCF
Needless to say Teddy failed in that endeavor, but that’s not to say you failed as him altogether.
Holding the Internet Title for almost half a year is no small feat, and it helped to establish your new persona as an up and comer...redundant as it was, seeing how you’d already established Teo Del Sol as such before plateauing with the People’s Title. Teo hit a wall, and instead of breaking through as Teo - as yourself - you thought it best to take off the mask and put on another...only to run sideways for a bit and find yourself face to face with that same wall. It’s the one that separates the good from the great. It’s the same one you’ve been pounding your fists on to no avail for years, even after giving up the red-lenses and donning your mask again.
As Blaze, you claimed you were all about the future and what was to come. You claimed the past was dead, that Teo Del Sol was dead. But here you are, Teo, alive and well. Am I to assume that now it’s Teddy’s turn to be “dead?” No, of course not. I don’t see it that way at all.
Truth is, Teo never died. You only tried to bury him for the sake of a new direction. You did the same with Teddy once you realized he’d run his course. But both men are one and the same, and in flip-flopping between the two, you haven’t been reborn. In fact it’s quite the opposite. You’ve staved off any sort of rebirth, unwittingly denying it from occurring. You’ve stayed the same, Teo. You’ve remained utterly stagnant, and it’s precisely because you lack direction. You lack the ability to move forward. All you did by taking off the mask and sliding a pair of glasses on was enable yourself to remain on the other side of greatness, to sidestep the responsibility each and every wrestler who aims at something more shares: that of upward mobility - meaningful progression - which you mistook as change for the sake of change.
Sure, your attitude changed when Blaze entered the fold. You said different shit and did the opposite of what you would have done as Teo. But with change, all we got was more of the same. All we got was disappointment, like waking up Christmas morning and opening up two different packages only to find two different pairs of socks.
And when it finally dawned on you that you’d have to work harder and do more if you ever wanted to hit the target you were aiming for - the WCF World Title - you didn’t man up and make meaningful changes. All you did was hang up your boots for a while. All you did was take off the mask and go home. You convinced yourself it was a break you needed, not a kick in the ass, not a shot of adrenaline to the heart. You convinced yourself some time off to reflect and collect your thoughts was the ticket to eventually being crowned WCF World Champion. But sadly, or perhaps laughably, your thought process was as flawed as ever, because solemn reflection is no substitute for passion, Teo. And if your flip-flopping from Teo to Teddy to Teo and your astounding lack of consistency in the ring of late has proven anything, it’s that you have almost zero passion left for this business.
Which begs the question: how am I supposed to take the threat you pose to my World Title seriously?
A voice rings out in response, though it offers no answer to the question. Its muffled by distance, and soon it gives way to the pounding double-bass of a heavy metal track blaring from somewhere in the desert...but Dune doesn’t have to guess where, and he grits his teeth in realization, putting his mask back on before he rises from the table. His rottweiler growls at the distorted music and follows him to the front door.
Dune: Stay, girl.
She whimpers but obeys, and we cut outside as Dune closes the door and hops in his sandrail. The stars are out and the moon is high as he speeds away toward the ruckus...toward the Ubehebe Crater some three miles away.
We catch up to him as the sandrail crests a hill, and the lighting installed in the crater by the WCF ring crew hours before glows in the distance as he speaks.
Dune: The gall…I’d say it’s unbelievable, but I should have known the tribes of the Mojave would descend on the crater tonight.
Don’t worry, Teo. I’ll run them off like an old man shoo-ing the neighbor kids off his lawn with a broom and a good shake of the fist. And while I’m out here, I suppose I’ll tend to the tremors that’ve got night two of XIII in jeopardy. That is, if I can get one of the worms to breach. It shouldn’t be too hard, what with the outlaws baiting them to the surface with all the vibrations they’re setting off. I’ll have to thank them before I disperse every last one of them...one way or the other.
A voice comes over the PA again, though all we’re able to make out are the words, “...Death Match,” before the heavy metal takes over once more. Dune closes on the glowing crater as he continues.
Dune: I hope I don’t do the same to you, Teo. The last thing I want to do is run you off again. Inconsistent and petty as you’ve become, your place in the WCF should never be in question. You’ve dug in and secured yourself as one to be feared by many...not all, but many. You are to the bottom feeders as I am to the midcarders - not one to be fucked with. That’s your baseline, and while you could be so much more, it’s not such a bad place to be for those content with an above average career trajectory.
But you’re not content with that. You want more, you want it all, despite lacking the wherewithal to go out and take it for your own. I have a feeling that, even given the odds, you’re building this match up in your head. You’re envisioning XIII as your grand coronation, the joyous end of a treacherous journey you’ve endured for three years. I have a feeling you’re getting your hopes up, Teo...and frankly I’d advise against it. Better men than you have made the same mistake prior to meeting me in the ring with the Title on the line, and almost all of them took their leave from the WCF shortly thereafter. The loss was too much for them, the heartache and devastation too much to bear. I don’t want that for you, but if you’re not at least somewhat prepared to go down in flames tomorrow night, it’s likely to happen. It’s incredibly safe to say that if I walk out of the crater tomorrow night with the World Title, you’ll walk away from the WCF forever.
Again, I don’t want that, Teo. But I don’t have any control over your feelings. I won’t have any control over how you choose to deal with the biggest, most gut wrenching loss of your career. All I can control is how I deal with you in the ring between bells, and as soon as I take control of the match - as soon as my mastery of the ring leads me to take control of you - it’s going to be all over.
He finally reaches the crater, and he slides to a halt on the lip, putting the sandrail in park and hopping out for a better look. The various tribes take up only the bottom portion of the crater, though there’s still roughly 10,000 of them, and they scream and shout as two oafs lumber around in the ring, trading shots with 2x4s and the infinite supply of beer bottles being thrown their way.
Dune: What a fucking disgrace.
Just then the heavy metal cuts and the outlaw announcer’s voice comes over the PA.
Outlaw: Look what we have here! Ladies and gentlemen, direct your attention to the top of the crater for a glimpse at a dead man walking - our very own Dune!
A spotlight shines on him, and he squints and covers his eyes as a roar goes up from the crowd below. The deathmatch continues in the ring, but all eyes are on Dune as the announcer continues.
Outlaw: Well what are you waiting for? Get him!
The collective of tribes lets out a war cry as all 10,000 charge up the steep slope toward him.
Dune: Shit.
But they don’t make it far before a massive earthquake rocks the crater, stopping them in their tracks. All goes quiet as the earth stands still again, but just as they’re about to continue their charge, another tremor goes up through the crater, this time accompanied by a monstrous roar from deep below the surface.
Outlaw: THEY’RE HERE! RUN!
And they do, all 10,000 of them. The stampede leaves dozens trampled to death, though soon the outlaws have dispersed, leaving Dune all alone. Another tremor goes up, and he follows the vibrations as they circle the crater. Stillness follows, and with it, his deep voice booms through his mask.
Dune: They’re here alright, but you won’t see me running. Much as you’d probably like XIII tomorrow night to be called off, Teo, I’m not going to let it happen. So don’t get your hopes up. Less than 24 hours from now, it’s me and you for the World Title. It’s the match that, two years ago, would have been so goddamn appetizing on paper. Now though...well, now it means far less. And it’s all thanks to you.
I still haven’t come up with a solid answer to the question I posed earlier. For the life of me I can’t find a reason to take the threat you pose to my World Title reign seriously. Since I came back into the fold this past December, you’ve done more to damage your credibility than anyone on the roster. You were a changed man by then, a far different Teo than I’d come to know in my initial run from 2015 to the spring of 2016. You’d taken some of the more sinister, devil may care aspects of Teddy Blaze and infused them with the sunshiny optimism of Teo Del Sol, creating a whole new version of yourself. But even when you combined the two diametrically opposed aspects of yourself, nothing came of it.
He stomps his foot, and another tremor goes up from far below, the shockwave traveling toward him as he continues.
Dune: I shouldn’t say nothing. You won the Omega Title at One in a harrowing matchup against your then partner Kyle Kemp and the ever menacing Michael X. It was an impressive feat, but it proved to be your final stand, your last significant achievement in the WCF up till now. I made my return to the ring that same night, and while at the time you were a double champion, you didn’t manage to successfully defend either of your titles before losing them both in short order.
One was the beginning of the end for you, Teo. In coming to the brink of significance, you cowered in the face of the responsibility that came with it. Rather than standing tall and giving yourself a fighting chance, you turned tail and fled with the hopes no one would see you for what you were...a farce, a paper champion too fragile to carry the weight of two lesser titles. And if you can’t do that, Teo, how can you ever expect to carry the colossal weight - the burden - of the WCF World Title on your shoulders.
You can’t. And in truth, no one expects you too.
I certainly don’t.
He stomps again, and this time the responding tremor is directly beneath him.
Dune: My one intention is to restore meaning to the Title. But if you won it, Teo, you’d only do it harm. I can’t allow that to happen. The age of paper champions that began when I lost the belt the first time is over. The age of fire has begun anew. And despite the insignificant part you’ve willed yourself to play since One, your place in the present is substantial. You’ve been given the honor of assisting me in restoring the Title to its former glory. A win over you tomorrow night will be my fourth defense since April, an achievement no World Champion has done since 2015, since the last great World Champion reigned…
Since me.
Again he stomps, and again the earth shakes beneath him.
Dune: Tomorrow night at XIII, we’re destined to take part in greatness. Yours is the part of unwilling sacrifice for something more than yourself. Mine is simply to see it through, to ENSURE that sacrifice.
All I ask is that you show some heart, Teo. Show me the heart of the sun. And when I tear it out of you - when I leave you mangled in the ring and walk out of the crater with the World Title in tow - you’ll have finally made something of yourself. After all this time, you’ll finally mean something to the WCF, even in a state you know all too well…
Defeat.
He stomps a final time, and he braces as the resulting tremor rises up through the earth’s crust. Finally, with a deafening roar, a giant sandworm covered in coarse fur shoots forth from the ground.
Without hesitation, Dune leaps onto the giant’s back, holding onto its fur as it dives below the surface once more. He disappears, but the sandworm doesn’t...not yet, anyway. Its back end continues to short forth from the desert floor as its front end simultaneously dives into it, forming a living archway atop the sands. Finally, its tail is revealed, and when it disappears beneath the earth, we cut.
