How it Ends or a Love Letter to Joey Flash
May 4, 2019 19:30:13 GMT -5
Alex Richards, Joey Flash, and 1 more like this
Post by God King Dune on May 4, 2019 19:30:13 GMT -5
God King Dune is tinkering with his time machine which comes into the play at the end of this story. He's lost in thought, and his mind once more goes back to that old familiar fire lit den, that cozy nook full of memories, that nostalgia filled headspace where euphoria and pain are one and the same. He goes back to 2015, and as the scene fades out, we go there too..
The arena lights dim as a video starts to play on the jumbotron. It’s a wide shot of a vast stretch of barren desert and rolling dunes. Dark, ominous clouds loom overhead, yet as the camera pans slowly across the horizon, the screen flickers with another image: the face of Joey Flash in black and white. It’s gone in a millisecond, though after a few seconds of scanning the dunes, it happens again..and again a few seconds later. When it happens a fourth time, the shot doesn’t revert back to the desert. Flash’s face remains on the screen, and colors rush in to fill the greys as his still image comes to life.
A smile comes over his lips, and his deep blue eyes redden before his face begins to melt away in favor of another that lies beneath it - that of the WCF World Champion, Dune. His icy blue eyes stare through the screen, and we zoom in on them until the screen bursts into flames. Finally, from the depths, three black letters rise:
WAR
The shot fades to darkness, and the arena is silent as the voice of Joey Flash rings out.
Joey Flash: How’s this gonna end?
Hans Zimmer’s “Time” begins its slow ascent as a fast-paced series of still-frame images flicker across the screen. Joey Flash is the centerpiece, and we see him in the early days of his career, first holding up the TV Tile in only his second match, then defeating man after man until his legendary bout with Occulo, which ended with his arm being raised in victory.
The shot then fades to Dune, who would make his WCF debut on the very next program. He steps out from behind the curtain, and the camera pans around him slowly as the packed arena shows little excitement upon getting their first glimpse of him. A montage of Crucifix Powerbombs later, and Dune steps out onto the stage prior to his bout with Alex Richards in the Trilogy Cup to a packed house that goes visibly ape shit at the sight of him, though the rising of the music is all we hear.
The shot fades to Joey Flash once more, shaking hands with the Vapor Kings as he joins their ranks. It only lasts for a moment before fading into Dune charging the ring weeks later in slow motion. He slides in as Flash slides out, and he and the Vapor Kings flee as Dune stands over the fallen Occulo, lending a hand for support. We cut to Joey Flash, who eyes Dune from the ramp with scorn before we cut away.
“Time” continues to build as a montage of the Trilogy Cup unfolds while Joey Flash watches from the locker room. By the time the finals roll around, the unforgettable image of Joey’s interference that fateful night flashes on the screen once more. After smacking Jay Omega with a steel chair, Dune and Flash share a look of pure hatred in the aftermath of what truly started it all.
Flash and Dune go at it in super slow motion in the Trios Tournament, their first and only time doing battle in the ring against one another. It fades to a shot of Dune wrenching a chair away from ICE Beckman and smashing it over the then-Champion’s face, losing his team the bout. Flash smiles at Dune from the ramp, though it fades as he looks at Beckman and considers his chances of retaining the Title in a few weeks.
We fade onto Joey Flash in the locker room at Asesinato de Mayo. He watches a TV screen that displays ICE in the last few seconds of his second World Title reign. We zoom in on the TV before going through to the action live in the ring. Beckman claws at Dune’s mask before the soon to be Champion smashes him to the mat and tears his mask off, revealing his face before Sandstorming Beckman and pinning him for three. The shot fades as the newly crowned WCF World Champion shoots his arm up, holding the belt high for all to see.
Now the music has found its legs, and the montage begins to quicken. Dune continues his streak of dominance, much like the one Joey Flash had enjoyed for so long. Meanwhile Flash’s hatred for Dune grows as he watches him succeed and steal the limelight. He watches with laughter to see Occulo’s own father put him out of commission, knocking out ⅓ of the Sentinels. But he doesn’t stop there, as the clips of Howard Black that begin to roll across the screen remind us.
We cut backstage to see Flash slap the shit out of Dune, which fades into a shot of Flash provoking Dune to come find him the next week. A metal pipe cracks across Dune’s head when he finds him before the shot fades to Black.
Howard Black. His screams are silent but his agony is apparent as a super slow motion shot pans over to show Joey Flash wrenching away at his arm as Dune looks on from the ramp. Suddenly, the brittle bones beneath his soft flesh snap and begin to break through the skin, and the speed of the shot returns to normal speed as Dune charges the ring, narrowly missing Flash before getting blindsided by Fly. The next image shows Dune lifting his fallen Sentinel-brother off the mat, and the next shows him halfway up the ramp. In the final image, the Sentinels are gone.
The shot cuts to darkness as the music falls off a great peak, though it doesn’t end there. The sounds persist, and soon so too does the image.
We open back on the rolling dunes that stretch to the horizon. Panning over, we hear the voice of Joey Flash once more.
Joey Flash: How’s this gonna end?
As the camera pans over, a highway comes into view just before a closeup shot of his face overtakes the screen, though it’s not the devilishly handsome one we’ve come to know. His eyes gleam red, and he dons the mask of his arch nemesis, Dune. The shot goes empty of all color aside from Joey’s red, gleaming eyes as a whisper fills the arena.
Joey Flash: Reduce it all to ash.
The music continues to die out as the image of Flash freezes on screen. Above him, the words “Wrestling Championship Federation” appear. Below him, “9-27-15” fades in before the final addition of “WAR” caps off the unforgettable shot.
As the music dies, the screen fades to black.
We open on a wide shot of the town outside the radio station. Part of the broadcast tower juts into the frame, and smoke from the molten fire that’s been dragged up from miles beneath the crust drifts about the neatly placed buildings. All life has vanished from this once quaint satellite town of the U.S. Army...that is, except for Dune and Freeman, who stand next to Freeman’s buggy and look out over the hellish sight from a hill just above the radio station.
The two remain silent, and Freeman continues to stare out intently as Dune turns toward him.
Dune: Why’d you bring me out here, Freeman?
The old man doesn’t take his eyes off the town in the distance.
Freeman: Months ago I had a vision of this place. Not a subconscious dream, mind you. This was a vision, and I was wide awake when it came to me. I saw -
His lip quivers, and he furrows his brow before he turns to Dune.
Freeman: Something terrible is going to happen before War…but I don’t know what, or to whom.
Dune: What do you mean?
Freeman: I...I don’t know, Dune. I don’t know...
Dune: What’d you see out here? Tell me, Freeman.
Freeman turns away from the smouldering town and gets back in the dune buggy. Dune watches him in confusion before following suit. Once inside, Freeman takes off in the direction of home.
Several minutes of silence pass before Dune looks out and sees something in the distance. He shields the sun from his eyes, but still it’s too far away to make out - though it appears to be a person. He reaches down and grabs a pair of binoculars, causing Freeman to look out and see the figure too. Dune puts them up to his eyes.
Dune: Freeman…
He hands him the binoculars and takes the wheel, turning it gently toward the man in the distance. Freeman finally breaks his silence.
Freeman: Is that -
Dune: Yeah. It is.
He hands them back to Dune and takes back the wheel, a look of wild, excited astonishment on his face as he steps on the gas.
The man drops down to a knee as they draw near. A white cloth covers his head, but aside from that he appears entirely out of his element in this extreme environment. A look of exhaustion on his face becomes one of horror as Dune and Freeman step out of the buggy and approach. He wipes the sweat from his brow, simultaneously donning a mask of false calm. He greets them in an all too familiar voice.
Man: Hello.
Dune steps forward, staring deep into the eyes of one Joey Flash. He cracks a smile beneath his mask at his luck.
Dune: Welcome to Hell.
And as the two archenemies come face to face in the desert, the screen cuts to black.
Dune: Welcome to Hell.
Darkness gives way in the blink of an eye, but it’s not the WCF World Champion we see. Another man stands before us, and his deep blue eyes crack a smile along with his lips. He chuckles before looking down at his feet. Wiping the incessant beads of sweat from his brow, he cocks his head up at Dune, one eye closed to blot out the sun.
Joey Flash: And what’s that make you?
Dune closes the gap between them, coming to within a few feet of Flash. To his surprise, Joey doesn’t retreat.
Dune: I’m no mirage, I’ll tell you that.
Joey Flash: Yeah? Prove i-
CRACK
Dune’s eyes light up just before he slaps the shit out of Joey, the force of which brings the already exhausted Flash to a knee. He wipes away a touch of blood before slowly getting back to his feet. He turns to Dune.
Joey Flash: I probably deserved th-
Dune false-charges Joey, who flinches and backpedals in retreat before he realizes the attack isn’t coming. Dune chuckles at the sight.
Dune: What are you doing out here so far from home, Joey?
Joey Flash: I...I need -
His eyes flutter as he loses his balance, regaining it before he falls to the ground. Dune turns to Freeman, and they share an amused look before turning back to Flash.
Dune: You’re not looking so hot.
Joey Flash: No..no...I…
His eyes roll back into his head as he collapses in a heap. Dune stares at him for a few seconds before turning to Freeman, who walks up beside him.
Freeman: Give me one reason we shouldn’t leave him here to rot.
Dune’s eyes never leave the downed Joey Flash.
Dune: War.
Freeman nods his head.
Freeman: I’ll get his arms.
The two of them load Flash into the buggy before taking off in the direction of Dune’s canyonside abode.
We cut to a shot of Freeman and Dune riding in the front seat. It pans over to show the limp-bodied Joey Flash sitting in the rear. He’s still for a moment...until he opens an eye, and the whisper of a smile touches the corner of his lips as he stares at the back of the WCF World Champion’s head. As his eyelid closes, the screen cuts to black.
Freeman pulls into a shaded horseshoe canyon and heads for a boulder near the back wall. He slows to a stop behind it and puts the buggy in neutral before shutting off the engine. He turns to Dune, who sits beside him.
Freeman: You take Flash; I’ll cover the buggy.
Dune nods, and they both turn back to see Joey Flash still passed out - or rather, playing possum - in the backseat. It isn’t until Dune steps out and grabs hold of Flash with his powerful paws that he begins to act as though he’s snapping out of it.
Joey Flash: Wh-where am I…
His eyes open, and upon seeing Dune he draws back in feigned surprise. Dune stands up straight and backs away.
Dune: Good, you’re awake. Let’s go.
Joey Flash: Where are you taking me?
Dune: You like AC?
Joey Flash: ...yeah…
Dune: Well get the fuck out or I’ll leave you stranded out here in the heat.
He backs out the other side, never taking his eyes off Dune before he backs into Freeman.
Freeman: Watch it, kid.
Flash bites his tongue as the old man covers the buggy with a tan tarp. His eyes flick back to Dune, whose icy blue ones greet him with an uncomfortable intensity. He nods toward the rock wall.
Dune: Follow me
Freeman brings up the rear as the three of them make their way toward the entrance of Dune’s home in the canyonside. He motions for Joey to turn around when they reach the wall, and he and Freeman lock eyes as Dune draws out a keypad and enters the code. After a moment a large boulder slides over, revealing its steel backing and a long, dark corridor within. Flash turns at the sound, and his mouth stands agape as he looks inside.
Joey Flash: Fuck this...I’m not going in there. Leave me out here. I’ll find my way home.
But Freeman gives him a shove, and Dune grabs him by the collar.
Dune: Too late.
He drags Joey inside, though in crossing the entranceway the lights turn on, which helps to put his mind at ease...that is, until a dark figure appears at the end of the hall. It stops when it sees the unfamiliar third party. Dune enters the code to close the steel-door, and just as it locks shut, a menacing growl echoes down the hall from the far end.
Dune’s rottweiler paces slowly toward the doorway, his eyes fixated on Flash, whose nervousness only serves to make matters worse. The beast snarls as he comes to within ten yards of Joey, and he’s on the brink of charging the instinctively unwanted guest before Dune snaps his fingers. He points the other way, and the dog obeys reluctantly.
Soon the three of them enter into the spacious, domed main room, at the center of which sits a wrestling ring. Joey continues to follow behind Dune, using him as a buffer between himself and the rottweiler. He looks around at the room as they head toward a small kitchen area.
Joey Flash: So this is where the magic happens, huh? This is where it all -
Dune turns on Joey and grabs him by the collar. The rottweiler begins baying at the sight of his master’s rage.
Dune: What are you out here for, Joey?! Is it me? Well here I am - now state your fucking business!
He pushes Flash and holds out his arms parallel to the ground. The dog continues to bark until Dune once more snaps his fingers. When the barking ceases, Joey chuckles.
Joey Flash: Your time as Champ’s starting to go to your head. See how vain you’ve become? What makes you think I’m here for you at all?
Dune: So it was coincidence that I intercepted you only a few miles from where I rest my head? Couldn’t possibly have anything to do with the fact that all you’ve been doing since the spring is talk about how you’re going to reduce me to ash. No - not possible.
Joey Flash: No...not coincidence. And no...not trying to kill ya. Nice try though. Keep going - you’ll get it soon enough.
Dune: You don’t want me dead. I know that much is true. What you want is to ruin me; to hollow me out and see me corrupted morally, drained emotionally, and broken physically. That’s what you want Joey, isn’t it?
Joey Flash: Yeah...yeah that’d be fuckin great. But you’re wrong again - that ain’t why I’m here.
Dune: But it is. You’re here to get a taste of my world with the hopes of gaining some sort of advantage on me for our inevitable showdown in the ring. You’re here to put yourself in my shoes - an admirable task, really. Though taking a little stroll in the desert isn’t going to give you anything more than a heat stroke, and it certainly won’t give you any sort of understanding of how I’ve been molded into the man you see before you today - the WCF World -
Joey Flash: Champion - right. I know. And no, I didn’t look on with a freshly shredded jawline as a band of outlaws murdered my older brother when I was a boy; I didn’t survive on my own in this literal hell on earth, which I’ve come to realize it is after less than a single day here. But I understand more about your plight than you seem to think. You’re not the only with demons. You’re not the only one with a black hole where family should be that’s filled with fire and hatred instead. You’re not the only one whose -
Dune: Shut the fuck up. I didn’t bring you here to listen to you whine and compare your cushy life to mine.
Joey Flash: Cushy? You fuckin’ moron, have you even -
Freeman: Enough!
The old man steps between the two, a tray topped with three double-shots of tequila in one palm. Joey looks at the glasses then up at Freeman.
Joey Flash: What the fuck is this? You trying to poison me or some shit?
Freeman: Which one you want?
Joey Flash: Fucking none!
Freeman: If you did, which would it be - just pick one!
Flash points to one, and Freeman picks it up and shoots it back, pulling back his lips in a strange sort of smile before he repeats the question. Joey points to another, and Freeman looks at Dune.
Dune: I don’t partake.
Freeman: Take your damn mask off and have a shot. We’re taking the edge off of this motherfucker, or someone’s going to end up dead.
Dune’s eyes move from the shot glass to Freeman, and finally to Joey as he reaches both hands behind his head. Flash furrows his brow but looks down at the mask, uneasy about seeing what lies beneath, though somehow fascinated all the same.
The shot becomes that of Dune’s field of vision, and as he unlatches his mask and pulls it over his eyes, the screen cuts to black.
The handsome face of Joey Flash fills the screen, contrasting the almost inhuman one of Dune we’ve just left behind. He smirks and glares ahead, his head tilted slightly upward. In zooming out, we realize he’s standing in front of the smooth white wall of Dune’s canyonside fortress. Finally the thing which captures Joey’s gaze is revealed. Hanging on the wall in all its glory, the WCF World Title.
We cut away from Joey to Dune, who’s remained unmasked since taking his first drink with Flash. That was enough to take the edge off for him, but Joey hadn’t stopped there. Now about five deep, he calls out to the Champ.
Joey Flash: Bobby Cairo wore this belt.
Dune: Yeah.
Joey Flash: Odin Balfore...Steve Orbit...Jonny Fly…
He turns toward the couch.
Joey Flash: And now you - fucking Dune.
Dune: So bitter, Joey. But is it because I haven’t earned the top spot? Or is it because you’d rather it was you who held it in my stead?
Joey’s flashes a glare before turning back toward the belt.
Joey Flash: Put your fuckin’ mask back on. I can’t stand to look at you without it.
Dune and Freeman laugh, which only angers Joey further.
Dune: Now you know why I wear it. Difficult to behold, aren’t I? I’ve been made an ugly man. All these deep, jagged scars...or how about these long gashes here, where you can see through to my teeth?
Flash turns out of morbid curiosity as Dune clenches his teeth and runs his finger down two nearly symmetrical wounds on either cheek. He shoots his head back around in disgust.
Joey Flash: Put ya fuckin mask back on!
His voice echoes around the room, and the hair on Dune’s rottweiler’s back raises as he rises from his light-slumber. A growl draws Joey’s attention to the massive beast that creeps toward him. From the couch, Dune lets Joey squirm for a bit before calling off the hound. He reaches out and grabs his mask from the table nearby, latching it on before he turns to Flash.
Dune: All better.
He stands up and begins walking slowly toward Joey.
Dune: But you didn’t answer my question. What is it that makes you bitter to know I’m the best wrestler in this Federation?
Joey Flash: You’re not the best. I am. I just haven’t been given my shot.
Dune: Yes you have. Revenge was me, you, and that meddling fuck Thomas Bates. Sure, both of us would have rather gone at it one-on-one, but if anything Bates provides you with a lesser man to pin.
Joey Flash: You don’t get it, do you? I’m the greatest fighter the WCF has ever seen, and I’m not here to prove it by taking out lesser men, which we can both agree TUB fucking is. I want you, Dune. You hear that?
Dune: Since the Trilogy Cup finals back in April...yeah, I hear it.
Joey Flash: Since long before that. It just so happened that your match against Jay Omega was the first I decided to play a hand in. And because of me, what happened?
Dune: You beat Jay Omega for me - is that what you think? That if not for you I wouldn’t have won the Trilogy Cup and a shot at the Champ a month later?
Joey Flash: You can’t say I didn’t help…
Dune: And when I crushed Ice Beckman to win the World Title, where were you to help, Joey? Nowhere. I climbed to the top of the WCF on my own, no matter how you want to twist it up inside your head.
Joey Flash: Meh. For whatever fucking reason Beckman was my teammate...and in truth, you didn’t need my help against him.
Dune: Ah, right...and I did against Deuce Murdock a month later in my first defense? Surely I could have handled him on my own, yet you couldn’t seem to help yourself.
Joey Flash: I do what I can.
He shrugs and smiles wryly at Dune, whose eyes reveal a hidden sarcastic smile in return. Their gazes turn to glares before Freeman shakes his head and makes his way toward them.
Freeman: You boys need to settle the fuck down.
Joey Flash: Settle down? This was just starting to get good. Remember Occulo, Dune? Yeah, your first partner. Talk to him lately? I have. The two of you seem to have had some sort of falling out. You were so close once...before his Father took him out of commission; before I pulled all the right strings to make it happen.
Dune: You must be so proud of your accomplishments, Joey.
Joey Flash: Oh, I am. But you know what makes me ever prouder? That hospital bill that’s taking away from little Joey Black’s college fund. Poor Howard may never return from what I did to him...and to think, it was right in front of your eyes. Little Joey wrote to me - have I told you yet? He wrote of Uncle Dune saving the day when he finally got his hands on me. How precious...how foolish.
Dune: I’d like to get my hands on that letter just to see how right he was.
Joey Flash: The only thing I wish I could have done would be to have buried the blade inside your Brother’s belly all those years ago; to have sliced through your face like a hot knife through butter when you were still a boy…
Flash’s eyes go wide with anticipation as Dune stares into them. His deep voice cuts through the silence.
Dune: It’s not so much what you say as it is the fact that you think you can say it to my face in my home that’s making me want to tear you limb from limb all of a sudden.
Freeman: Dune, shut the fu-
Joey: Yeah shut the fuck up, Dune.
Dune: Get in the ring.
Flash’s eyes go wide with half-drunken excitement, and he turns and makes for it as Freeman gets in Dune’s face.
Freeman: No, no - not with Bates on the horizon.
Dune: This is just practice. Training.
Freeman: But -
Just then a pounding on the steel door at the end of the entrance hall echoes into the main room. Freeman, Dune, Flash, and the rottweiler all turn that way. Freeman turns back to Dune, a perplexed look on his face.
Dune: Get the door, Freeman.
The old man gives Dune a look as if to say, “Don’t fucking do it,” before turning and hurrying toward the door.
Dune turns to Flash, who waits inside the ring. A chill runs up his spine as it occurs to him that the thrill of finally being able to let loose on Joey Flash is mere seconds away. He slides into the ring and shoots to his feet. Months of world-crushing tension is on the brink of achieving that sweet, sweet release, when -
BANG! - BANG!
Two gunshots ring out before the faint cries of two men reach the ring. Freeman is one of them, and his voice echoes down the hall.
Freeman: Bigfoot! Fuckin’ Bigfoot!
Dune’s rottweiler begins to bay as if it were possessed. Flash and Dune turn to one another.
Flash: Bigfoot?
Dune: Bates clone, more or less.
Flash: Ah. That’d explain the interruption.
Dune: Go.
Flash: Nah I’ll stay he-
Dune: GO!
Reluctantly Flash obeys, and the two of them hurry off in the wake of the rottweiler as the screen fades out.
The man called Bigfoot flees across the desert, and the WCF World Champion follows. The former rides a hog - a Harley built for the road; the latter rides in a dune buggy built for speed atop the sands. What had started as a healthy lead for the wannabe Dark Rider has shriveled down to less than 50 yards. Blood spills from the self-inflicted gunshot that’s torn a hole in his foot, and Dune glides beside the red lines as if it were some lost highway in this already deranged corner of the world.
We cut to a closeup shot of Dune, whose icy blue eyes are on fire as he stares ahead with unyielding purpose. A moment passes before the camera rotates, revealing the passenger who sits beside him: his archnemesis, Joey Flash. He stares at Dune, a look of scorn and lordliness etched on his face. He scoffs subtly before he speaks.
Joey Flash: Why’d you bring me out here?
Dune: I can’t trust you.
Joey Flash: Pfft...what was I gonna do, beat on your freshly-shot mentor? Fuck your girl, who Bigfoot and his boys probably ravaged before they brought her to your door as bait?
Dune’s face remains unchanged as he stares ahead.
Dune: Quiet. This isn’t about you, Joey.
Joey Flash: Let’s change that. I find the world so boring without me in it!
Again Dune pays no mind to Flash. He purses his lips and nods, turning to look ahead at the Thomas Bates-idolizer, Bigfoot. Several seconds of silence pass before he speaks.
Joey Flash: Dune...
He turns back toward him.
Joey Flash: How’s this gonna end?
Dune: With me burying this son of a bitch in the -
Joey Flash: No, no. Not THIS. I mean...this.
Flash wags his finger back and forth from himself to Dune, who finally cocks his head toward him. Joey smiles and returns his gaze, but the moment is short-lived as Dune turns back toward Bigfoot.
Dune: I’d like to say where it began in April - in the ring.
Joey Flash: Yeah? Because I don’t think -
Dune: - it CAN end?
Joey Flash: Can it? Will it?
Dune: Is that what you want, Joey?
Joey Flash: Yeah...but it can’t end until I’ve won.
Dune’s head spins toward Flash, whose arrogance leaps from his face in favor of a more serious tone.
Dune: You can’t win - not at the game you’re playing.
He looks ahead once more.
Dune: In the ring, you’re one of the few men in this company who has what it takes to wear this belt with pride. But you’re a meddler, Joey - just like Thomas Bates is playing in wedging himself into the main event at Revenge. The difference is, he does his meddling inside the ring; inside the realm of the WCF. You though...you’ve strayed far beyond that line in the sand you knew never to cross, and if you don’t reign it in...then no, I can’t say for sure how this will end, or even that it will at all. But for now, I need you to shut the fu-
He cuts off mid-sentence, and his eyes go wide as he watches Bigfoot choose which way to go at as he comes to a canyon that gives him only two options.
Dune: Oof - he just fucked up.
Joey Flash: What do you mean? Where are we headed?
He turns to Flash and smiles beneath his mask.
Dune: The Mouth of the Beast - Satan’s Maw.
Joey Flash: What the fuck?
A look of apprehension comes over Flash’s face before the camera zooms out rapidly. Soon the two vessels are mere specks near the bottom of the screen as a town of smoke and sporadic fires comes into view at the top. As they ride toward the town, and the radio tower nearby, the scene fades out.
The dim light of the studio segues into the bright desert sunlight as we pick up the chase where we left off: from above. The smoldering town again sits in wait at the top of the screen as the two speck-like vehicles move toward it. From this high up they appear to be moving at a crawl, but as we cut to Dune and Joey Flash on the ground, the illusion of distance makes itself known. The two speed through the canyon atop the hard, desert ground, closing on Bigfoot as they near a break in the canyon.
Joey Flash: Let’s say I wanted to get out of here...what’s the best way?
Dune: You’re not going anywhere.
Joey Flash: Yeah...well if this Bigfoot motherfucker puts a bullet in you, I’m not sticking around for the funeral. This is life and death we’re talking about. Now which way?
Dune: Northeast. Big town up there. Can’t miss it.
Joey Flash: Northeast...right.
Dune: Or...maybe it’s southwest…
Flash looks over at Dune, a stern, humorless expression on his face.
Joey Flash: Fuck that. Which is it?
Dune: Are you telling me you don’t remember which way you came from? Don’t worry - you wouldn’t be the first to become disoriented in the desert.
Joey Flash: Ha-ha. Which -
Dune: Why’d you duck me, Joey.
Joey Flash: Why’d I - ah, shut the fuck up. Duck you? What on fuckin Earth would give you that idea?
Dune: We could’ve ended this at Revenge, despite Bates getting involved.
Joey Flash: The little shit…
Dune: You said yourself you wanted this to end.
Joey Flash: After I’ve won.
Dune: And how does Thomas Bates change matters? I’ll not lie and say besting you one-on-one is a sure thing, but give me one reason why Thomas fucking Bates makes your chances of winning any slimmer.
Joey Flash: They don’t - that’s the point. I don’t want to fight Thomas Bates for the World Title. I want to fight you, Dune. And I will. I haven’t ducked you. I’ve merely drawn out the affair.
Dune’s head snaps over to Joey, and his eyes light up as he speaks.
Dune: But at what cost?
Joey doesn’t answer. Instead he looks ahead as Dune does the same. They round a bend, shooting out of the canyon and back into the open desert, where a distant train appears on the right. Bigfoot heads toward a dark, half-spherical opening in the adjacent canyonside, toward which the train speeds along its tracks. Both look from Bigfoot to the train, though Joey does so again as Dune steps on the gas. He turns to Dune in panic.
Joey Flash: What are you doing?
Dune: He’s not getting away.
Joey Flash: He what? He’s not gonna get away - he’s gonna get fuckin crushed by that train!
Dune: No...we’ve got the angle. Trust me.
Joey Flash: Like fuck we do! Pull over, pull the fuck over!
Dune: No time for stops.
Bigfoot passes into the tunnel, and Joey panics some more as the train blares its horn and closes on them in a hurry.
Joey Flash: Goddamnit goddamnit what the fuuuuuuuuuck!!!
Just before the train enters the tunnel, Dune shoots the gap and speeds alongside the tracks within. Bigfoot’s taillights gleam up ahead, and the bright lights of the train beam upon their backs. Flash turns, quickly shooting back around to Dune.
Joey Flash: Drive! Drive! It’s right on your ass!
In his fear, he instinctively grabs hold of Dune, quickly releasing him and scowling at his mistake. Dune shoots him one in return.
Dune: Quiet. We’re fine.
Joey Flash: Fine?! No, we’re not fi-
But he stops as he becomes aware of the growing separation from the locomotive. He turns around to see traces of daylight etched into the far wall of the tunnel, and in coming around the bend, the blue sky makes him smile and laugh aloud.
Joey Flash: Hahaha! We did it!
He slaps Dune’s arm, who shoots him a glare.
Dune: You didn’t do shit.
Joey Flash: Well, yeah...considering you dragged me out here, I shouldn’t be expected to.
Dune: No. We all know what’s come to be expected of you, Joey.
Joey Flash: And what’s that.
Dune: The same old bullshit. I wonder if that’s what I’ll see in a month when it finally IS me and you, one-on-one for my World Title at War.
Joey Flash: You’ll see what the entire world is gonna see: the best pound for pound fighter in the world taking out the so-called “Champion.”
Dune: I didn’t deem myself World Champion. I earned the title.
Joey Flash: Just like you’ll earn defeat.
He turns to Joey.
Dune: I can imagine so much worse.
The tunnel spits them out seconds after Bigfoot. The wannabe Dark Rider veers away from the tracks and speeds toward a low hill, over the top of which faint wisps of smoke rise before they’re blown apart by the wind. Dune imagines Bigfoot’s face when he sees the smoldering town below and starts to smile beneath his mask when something catches the corner of his eye and drags his head that way.
It’s a jackal, it’s snout covered in blood as it tears away at what is likely a young, innocent rabbit...or what remains of one. Flash sees it too, and both he and Dune watch as its head darts up to watch them pass by. Dune is first to turn away from the black eyes of the predator, though Flash never breaks eye contact with it...that is, not until they crest the hill and drop down on the other side. He turns to see a ghost town whose burning is slow yet assured. Small fires are scattered about, and a large radio tower stands next to its accompanying station.
Joey Flash: The Maw, I take it?
Dune: The same.
The camera zooms out as Dune and Flash close on Bigfoot. His massive Bates-like frame betrays him as he begins to swerve, slowing him down enough for Dune to finally close the gap. He does, though just before he slams into the back of Bigfoot’s bike, the scene fades out.
Desperation clings to Bigfoot’s face as he rides headlong into a place the locals call Satan’s Maw. This wasn’t how he envisioned his escapade to the desert panning out. In his haste to achieve the impossible and best Dune in combat before taking his mask back to Bates, who he mistakenly assumed would let him in the DRG for it, Bigfoot had underestimated the scale of the task.
But now his plan has gone to shit, literally shooting himself in the foot by mistake after kidnapping Dune’s love interest, Pinky, and using her as bait to lure Dune out of his canyonside fortress. It drew Freeman out instead, and Bigfoot botched the whole thing by shooting first and asking questions later, just like his idol, Thomas Bates, is fond of doing.
Just then his bike swerves hard, and we pan over to see Dune and Joey Flash in a buggy right behind him. Dune cuts hard to the left, knocking into Bigfoot’s bike once more. This time the big man can’t withstand the impact, and the bike sways violently before crashing against the hot, steaming earth. We cut to inside the buggy, which speeds past the downed Bigfoot before busting a u-turn.
Joey Flash: Holy shit - you fuckin’ killed him!
Dune: Not yet.
They speed toward Bigfoot, who stands in time to see them as they race toward him. In turn he flees, though in doing so he runs straight into a patch of soft ground,beneath which the magma sits incredibly close. He instinctively retreats, looking around at the smoldering town in sudden realization. Dune slides to a stop about 20 yards away. Joey watches as he takes the keys and hops out before making his way toward Bigfoot.
Dune: End of the line.
Bigfoot: What is this place? Where have you led me?!
Dune: You led yourself here when you set your sights on the stars. You’re not the first to do so, and you won’t be the last. But like all the others who tried and failed -
Bigfoot: Stop right there!
Dune: - you’ll burn in the fire, be it of the sun or the earth.
Bigfoot lunges for Dune, who dodges and slams his knee into Bigfoot’s gut. He keels over,and Dune leaps and kicks the fuck out of the big man’s face. He’s out cold almost instantly, though as he loses consciousness he stumbles backward and falls into the soft patch of earth. His massive frame breaks right through it, and the molten fire below wakes him from his sleep.
He screams before leaping up, throwing off his flaming jacket and rubbing his ass on the ground to put out the fire. Dune steps toward him when a thought occurs to him...but it’s too late.
CRACK
He turns just in time to receive a steel crowbar to the face. He goes down, not knocked unconscious but put into a definite stupor. And in it, the voice of Joey Flash echoes through his confused mind.
Joey Flash: Thanks for the tour ya fuck.. See ya around...Champ.
He kicks him in the face before retrieving the keys to the buggy. Moments later an engine roars, then steadily fades into the abyss that Dune floats in and out of. It’s a peaceful place, albeit full of darkness...until the monstrous hands of Bigfoot on his face snap him out of it. He opens his eyes to see the ugly brute, who flinches at the sight of the Champ’s wrathful gaze.
Bigfoot: Wakey, wak-AAAHHH!
Dune grabs hold of Bigfoot and gets a foot under him before tossing backward into the thinly topped magma pit. The force of the fall breaks the crust, and Bigfoot tries to scream, though the fact that his entire front-side is buried in the golden-red magma prevents him from doing so. Dune takes off his mask and spits on Bigfoot’s flaming carcass before turning toward the tracks Joey Flash had left behind.
He curses Flash’s name beneath his breath when the dark radio tower some 100 yards away catches his eye. He remembers something Freeman told him once - something about the transmitter merely needing to be turned on to be able to access nearly every pocket of the U.S. After a moment’s hesitation, he sets off toward the tower and the small station beside it.
We cut back to the present to find Dune in the studio once more. He leans in to the mic as he speaks.
Dune: Fuck you Joey Flash. I take my eyes off you for one second, and the next you’re bashing me over the head with a blunt object and leaving me stranded in a place far from home. I only hope you made it out of the desert. You should have by now if you were going to. Our paths may have very different starting and ending points, but this isn’t the last time they converge. And though we’re destined to cross paths at War, you can bet your ass I’ll be seeing you before then.
Dune turns away from the mic when he catches sight of the phone. After a moment of hesitation, he reaches over and plugs it back in. He answers it almost immediately.
Dune: Who am I talking to?
The call cuts in and out, though a familiar voice breaks through.
Caller: ...oward and Jo...way to...quare Garden!
Dune: You’re cutting out on me.
Caller: ...Howard and Joey Black, and we’re heading up to…
Dune: Howard! Howard, are you there?!
Howard Black: Yes! Dune, how are you?!
Dune: Readier than ever my friend. If I can put up half the fight you did against Bates, he’s done.
Howard Black: He’s done already. He’s an imposter. He’s a - earmuffs, Joey - he’s a fucking charlatan and snake oil salesman. I'm just glad Spencer finally woke up to that before Bates devoured him, too. His little gang is crumbling, and...drive the final nail...coffin at Revenge, he’ll never...
Dune: You’re cutting out, but I hear you all the same. Come and see me before the match...just watch out for Joey Flash. He’d love nothing more than to catch you off guard again, and I wouldn’t put it past him to harm an innocent child.
Howard Black: I’ll be there. And Flash can…..all I care. He….in….
The call cuts out, and Dune unplugs the phone. Dead air ensues as he’s taken by thought for a moment. Beneath his mask, a smile touches his scarred lips at the thought of Howard Black and his young son, Joey...which quickly sours as he considers Joey Flash and the man who’s delayed their meeting. Seething, he turns back to the mic for a final time.
Dune: Howard Black’s Bitch - Thomas Bates.
Thomas fucking Bates.
We live in a world of consequences. Just as the man who steps in the fire gets burned, he who tampers in a superior man's affairs is doomed to suffer the bane of his meddling actions. In that regard our roles this week are clear: you’re the meddler, and I’m the meddler’s bane.
Now let’s get this shit over with.
He stands, popping his neck with a slow turn to the left. Glaring toward the door, he strides off, and when he exits the room, the screen cuts to black.
A rag and a beer glass. For Pinky, that’s all there is; that and the greatest dilemma she’s ever known. She stares down at her work in a state of entrancement as Aphex Twin’s “Heliosphan” plays softly throughout the patron-less Double X and beneath her thoughts, which weigh heavily on her this morning. Outside, dark clouds blot out the sun, and the steady pitter-patter of rain on the tin roof above only draws her further into contemplation.
The low rumble of thunder rolls through the bar in the middle of nowhere, and the voice of a man follows in its wake.
Man: They say barstools are meant for dreamers...
She turns around, startled at first, though when she sees the clean-cut, middle-aged man standing in front of the bar, she lets her guard down.
Man: ...but it seems when they’re empty, it’s the bartenders who dream.
He wears a grey suit and a thick van dyke beard, and his green eyes, long brown hair, and perfectly symmetrical face lend to his appeal. It’s with regret that Pinky feels a tingle beneath her panties upon laying eyes on him, though she shoves the thought aside before she speaks.
Pinky: Oh, gosh - hey there! Didn’t hear you come in…
Man: I didn’t mean to startle you, young lady. Are you serving customers this early?
He gestures toward the stool in front of him.
Pinky: Never too early for a drink here. Have a seat. What can I get for you?
His arched eyebrows give his smile a sinister quality as he takes a seat. He moves with unrivaled grace, and his eyes never leave Pinky’s as he speaks.
Man: Glass of scotch, please - your finest.
Pinky: Balvenie?
Man: That’s the ticket.
She sets the rag and beer glass down before turning and grabbing the scotch. The man watches her all the while, and he doesn’t miss as she rubs her flat belly with her free hand while pouring his drink. She sets it down in front of him and smiles.
Pinky: I’ve never seen you before. You new around here?
Man: No, no, not exactly.
Pinky: Got a name?
He smiles and puts out his hand.
Man: Call me Jack. That’ll be just fine.
Pinky: Pleasure to meet you, Jack.
They shake and he sniffs at his drink, never taking his eyes off her. Pinky chuckles while unconsciously rubbing at her belly once more, and he smiles before taking a long sip. The scene begins to fade as he speaks.
Jack: Nothing like a bit of fire in the belly.
And darkness engulfs the screen.
Night falls less than 24 hours before Slam, and yet Dune lies restless in bed. It’s not his recently embraced fatherhood that troubles him, nor is it the thought of taking vengeance on Joey Flash at WAR without the help of John Mullins. Least troubling of all is the thought of Zombie McMorris on the horizon, whose perma-fall from grace he’s more than capable of maintaining.
No, it’s something else that keeps him up and plagues his mind in the night: the abandoned town where the fires of the earth have risen to reclaim the surface; the Maw, as it’s otherwise known to locals.
The ten o’clock hour comes and goes, and a few strokes after eleven he can resist its draw no longer. He throws off his sheets and puts on a pair of pants, a shirt, and his boots, not bothering to put his mask on before he strides off toward the door. His rottweiler awakes from a deep slumber in time to catch him before he sets off, and the two of them make for the Maw at full speed in the buggy as the shot fades onto another.
The stars shine overhead, dotting the night sky with their unfathomable energy. Though as we begin to pan down, the cosmic fires are replaced by the deep orange glow of the earthbound variety. A spittle of magma shoots out of the distant ground as the back of Dune’s head comes into view. The camera rotates to his front, and his icy blue eyes dart into the lense before he speaks.
Dune: Why am I drawn here, of all places? There’s nothing here but fire and death...
A growl issues from behind him, and Dune turns to see his rottweiler rise up from the sand. He furrows his brow and looks out to where the dog faces, but he sees only darkness beneath the canopy of stars. All the same the dog takes off, baying wildly as he disappears into the night, and Dune calls out before he dashes for the buggy.
We cut to the beast, who nears his mark - a man in a grey suit in the shallow valley below. It’s the man from the Double X - “Jack” he called himself, though Jackal is a more fitting name - and he quietly sings the same tune Dune was humming when they crossed paths earlier in the week.
Jackal: Midnight, with the stars and you…
The beast closes to within 100 yards.
Jackal: Midnight, and a rendezvous…
The moonlight catches the dog’s eye as it nears.
Jackal: Your eyes held a message tender, saying I surrender…
20 yards out…
Jackal: All my love to you…
The beast pounces...
We cut back to Dune just before we hear his dog’s lone, sharp cry. As Dune calls out for him, we cut back to the shallow valley.
There, the man is gone, but the rottweiler remains. He walks forward slowly , panting and rubbing at his ears with his paws. He shakes...and shakes...until finally we hear a silent voice that speaks to the hound from within his mind.
“Good boy.”
Dune’s high beams hit the beast, whose eyes gleam as they absorb the light drawing near in the darkness that surrounds. The camera zooms in slowly on the dog, and just before Dune pulls up beside his oldest friend, the screen cuts to black.
The next morning, Dune finds himself inside WCF One at the airfield near his home. Despite Freeman’s avid protests, he sits in wait as the jet gets set for take off. From his window, he watches as the old man drives away from the plane steeped in anger. Just before he rides out of sight, the jet lurches forward. Soon Dune is in the clouds, and he looks down upon the vast desert in awe of the scale.
In the middle of a patch of barren land he spots the Double X, and thoughts of Pinky fill his mind as he stares down at it.
“She’ll be fine,” he thinks to himself when guilt arises from not telling her of the impromptu trip to New York City.
He thinks of his dog, too, and comes to the same conclusion. After all, he’d only be gone a day or two...what could possibly go wrong?
“Everything’s going to be fine,” he thinks to himself as a patch of clouds covers the Double X before it sweeps under the wing and out of view. He turns his head forward, imagining all that’s still to come with a smile beneath his mask...
He can’t see it...he can’t hear it...but just as the Double X passes out of sight, an explosion tears a hole in one of the walls of the bar, and a column of thick black smoke rises up from the blast. Within, none other than Joey Flash is flung backward alongside Pinky and the child growing in her belly...all as the Jackal had planned.
But Dune doesn’t know. How could he?
“Everything’s going to be fine,” he thinks.
And darkness reclaims the screen for a final time.
Koyaanisqatsi (ko-yaa-nis-katsi): Life out of balance
“If we dig precious things from the land, we will invite disaster.” - Hopi Prophecy
“It’s no coincidence that man’s greatest achievement is also his greatest folly.” - The Jackal
We fade to a shot of a blue 1954 Cadillac Eldorado convertible cruising down a lone stretch of highway that slices through the American Southwest. Two young lovers ride within, and the winds of a half-decade of nuclear fallout blow through their hair as the radio plays one of the latest tunes.
“Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream...”
The letters on a sign up ahead finally come into view, and the young woman reads them aloud.
Woman: “Welcome to El Mago, where the mushroom clouds grow.”
She smiles giddily at the thought of seeing one of the legendary clouds.
“Sandman, I’m so alone. Don’t have nobody to call my own…”
A flash of light fills the sky, and they screech to a halt. After a few seconds the blinding light begins to fade in favor of a strange, glowing darkness that reveals a tower of smoke and fire rising up to the heavens. It’s over a hundred miles away, though its sheer size gives it the illusion of being far closer. From here the couple is safe from the fires, but a bath of radiation will doom them to an early grave.
We leave the car and begin to zoom in on the aftermath of the blast. Half a dozen white streaks drift next to the megacloud that continues to rise and curl in at the top. Huge plumes of dirt and ash fall as the smoke at the bottom rushes forth like some hellish tsunami. After about ten seconds a massive explosion strikes as we meet the soundwave, and an unending, ungodly roar replaces the eery silence of before.
Finally, when no more detail can be revealed without breaching the cloud, the rising column begins to suck everything around it back in...
The smoke withdraws, and in its wake there stands a man in an unblemished grey suit.
He’s familiar to us: Jack, he would introduce himself to Pinky as in the present some 61 years later. And yet, in his younger form, he hasn’t changed a bit. He’s the same man whose mere presence conjured up nightmarish visions in Dune’s mind when they bumped into each other at the Double X; the same man who intercepted Joey Flash in the desert in the days leading up to WAR; the same man who took over the mind and body of Dune’s rottweiler before attacking Dune and fleeing for the desert and Joey Flash once more.
But this, of course, is no man. This is something else entirely: a Jackal, born of man’s greatest folly and his destructive nature. From chaos he rises, and through chaos he survives.
The mushroom cloud grows behind him as walks toward the screen, risen from the depths to a world begging for bad tidings. He smiles cruelly, his mind filled with a darkness sure to spread, and it seeps in slowly from the edges of the screen before overcoming it entirely.
Dune is entrenched in a darkness similar to the one we just left. He sits on board WCF One in a state of deep meditation. The low hum of the engines, the sound of thin air being parted by force, and the trespasses of Joey Flash are all that exist inside his mind.
A crackle through the speakers precedes the Captain’s voice, and Dune’s eyelids raise slowly at the sound.
Captain: How about that view, Champ? Nothing like it. Just a few more minutes, then I’ll set her down nice and easy for you. Hang tight.
Dune peers out at New York City below. The concrete jungles of the world hadn’t appealed to him prior to signing with WCF, and they’d proven similarly displeasing to visit in his travels since. Now he flies into this alien world - the world of Joey Flash - not for pleasure but purely for personal pursuits. He shuts the shade, and his icy blue eyes shoot toward the screen as he speaks.
Dune: It’s about goddamn time.
Here I come, Joey.
I don’t mean this little trip I’m on now. I know you’re down there in that big glass city somewhere, but I’m not here for you. Your billionaire buddy Seth Lerch may have contractually banned me from laying a hand on you til the match proper, but all the same you’ve done more than enough to warrant a thorough out-of-ring beatdown from the best fighter in the business, so long as no witnesses are present to disqualify me from our bout at WAR. You know what you’ve done, and you’ve been lucky enough to avoid your fate this long. You’ve been running since April, but now your back’s against the wall and there’s nowhere left to hide.
Here I come, Joey.
Mere days separate us from what’s been brewing for five months, and I can hardly wait to give you a big fucking taste of what you’ve been craving all this time. You’ve only had a sampling thus far, back in Trios when you were still Ice Beckman’s bitch-underling. We shared a moment that night, didn’t we, Joey? Before it had only been the suspicion of greatness that made our polar opposite natures attract one another. But that night a fiery breath blew life into what’s become the most heated rivalry of our careers. Who knows how it appears to those on the outside looking in, but in here - where the fires are white hot and ever-burning - we both know it to be true…don’t we, Joey?
Remember when that white hot fire was just a candle flame dancing with the wind?
Remember when it wasn’t there at all?
I remember how it began - where it began - and if I have my say it’s going to end in the same place: between the ropes. Ever since I came to Occulo’s aid while you and the former Vapor Kings laid into him in the ring, you’ve been provoking me with the hope I’d follow your lead and assist you in taking this beef of ours outside the ring. But this isn’t the fucking mafia; this is a goddamn wrestling business, one where beefs are meant to arise so as to be squashed IN the ring, not outside of it...and ours ends in the ring next Sunday at WAR.
Here I come, Joey.
When I took Occulo on as my ally, it only made sense to take you on as my foe. He was one of the most talented and honorable men in this company, and though back then your wrestling prowess wasn’t in question, you were still the same conscienceless, morally corrupt piece of shit you are today. I may have been on your radar before then, but it wasn’t until I joined forces with your then-arch nemesis that you began to realize the threat I posed. By then I was tearing through the ranks of the WCF, scaling the mountain faster and higher than all the rest. By the time the Trilogy Cup finals rolled around, there was hardly any question who the next King of WCF Mountain was going to be.
And you just couldn’t accept that.
They teach young American kids like you the stages of grief in public school. At opposite ends are denial and acceptance, but it’s in between where the true struggle lies. Yet as I neared the summit, it was in the black pit of denial where you willingly remained, refusing to allow the newer, more skillful fighter his rightful place on the throne. And so you did the only thing a coward could do in that situation: you made it easy for me - or tried to, anyway. Smacking Jay Omega with a steel chair may have quickened the inevitable, but all it really did was set fire to the long fuse...and it’s been burning ever since. You’ve been toeing the line, wary to wade through the healing waters of grief en route to accepting that I’m the man in this company like all the rest have, but at WAR you’re getting tossed right the fuck in. And when you emerge on the other side, you’ll have no choice but to accept your fate.
Here I come, Joey.
You’ve got my full attention. You’ve had it since trying to take a shit on what I’d worked so hard to achieve since arriving with the new year. Your many in-ring trespasses don’t take away from what I’ve built though. They only serve to chip away at the already faulty foundation you’ve built not only your WCF career on but your life on as a whole. I know far more about you than I’d like to, and in truth the more I learn, the more my absolute lack respect for you somehow waxes even further. Never before have I wanted to lay waste to a man inside the ring so badly as I do you, and thank fucking god my chance is right around the corner.
You want the best, Joey? Here I am. You could’ve had me at Revenge but you turned tail and fled when Thomas Bates was thrown into the fold. Well now it’s just me and you. There’s no one left to stand between us on the battleground. No one left to keep us apart.
Men have died for less than the shit you’ve pulled - stacks of them. But death doesn’t play into the war we’re in the midst of, only utter defeat at the hands of the better man. Your win/loss ratio doesn’t impress me, Joey. I’ve decimated far better fighters and come away as the victor, and none had incurred my wrath so much as you. And now the only thing that can quench it is the motherfucking World Champion pinning your scrawny little shoulders for three.
You fucked up, Joey. You picked a fight with the wrong man.
My fortress lies deep within an impenetrable inland empire, the heart of which you’ll never reach. But yours is comprised of castles made of sand, built upon the open shore without thought or care of the incoming tide. It’s been creeping closer and closer since April, and at WAR, when the waves finally come crashing down on your fragile kingdom, the entire world will bear witness to the unfolding of its ruin.
Here come the waves, Joey.
Here I come.
Dune cuts off as the plane comes to a halt on the runway. He rises from his seat and makes his way toward the exit. A black car awaits him outside, and he descends the ramp just as the car door opens to reveal the man he’s come to see: John Mullins.
“He’s there,” Mullins had said. “The Jackal.”
Dune glares at the sight of the man who dealt the original blow to the Sentinels when he attacked his own son, Occulo.
“Come to New York or they die,” he had said on the phone.
“...or they die,” Dune had dreamt him saying the night before.
He comes face to face with Mullins, who sticks out his hand and stares up at the Champion.
Mullins: Good to see you, Dune. How was your flight?
Dune: Cut the bullshit. You know why I’m here.
Mullins nods.
Mullins: The Jackal.
Dune: Right. Who is he?
Mullins: How should I know?
Dune’s eyes take on a menacing, wide-eyed stare as one might give a dog who misbehaves, and Mullins continues as to avoid what’s likely to follow.
Mullins: I wasn’t kidding you on the phone - I’ve dealt with him before, but I only know so much. As to who he is...or rather, WHAT he is...I can’t say. A demon, perhaps. Maybe even the devil himself. All I know is he thrives on the creation of chaos and the subsequent destruction of men. He penetrates the mind, Dune. Then he takes the body. Once he hones in on a target, he doesn’t cease until it’s utterly broken...and he’s been targeting you for a long time.
Dune chuckles incredulously, regretting his decision to come to the city.
Dune: M-hmm. And how could you know all this?
Mullins: Because I’ve been inside HIS mind. The only way to beat him is at his own game.
Dune: Which you play?
Mullins: To great success. Wanna learn? You’ll have to if you don’t want to lose everything. It’s not me who’ll take it from you. I’m no threat to you. Just remember why you’re here.
“...or they die.”
Dune looks down at his hand, still healing from his rottweiler’s bite the day before. He remembers the odd behavior that preceded his oldest and most loyal friend attacking him...thinks of Mullins’ words just now: “He penetrates the mind, Dune. Then he takes the body.”
“...or they die.”
He nods toward the car, and Mullins gets in before Dune follows suit. As the door shuts, the screen cuts to black.
Craters large and small mark the ground as viewed from above. We may as well be on the moon, but as the camera zooms in and rotates toward the horizon, the glowing desert sun tells us otherwise. More craters come into view. They cover the surface like a deadly pox atop an already stricken land. They’re the remains of nuclear explosions wrought up by man’s innate desire for dominance, however artificial its form may be.
A figure walks amongst the death below - a figure who was, in fact, awoken by the same power that bore the craters in the earth; that spread it’s toxic radiation.
The shot fades to one of the Jackal, who creeps slowly toward the edge of a deep, shadow-filled crater. He reaches the lip and pauses, looking down into the seeming abyss below. In the infinite silence, he speaks.
Jackal: Where are they?
He turns, scowling as he scans the horizon.
Jackal: Where are the bombs? Where are the men exposed to the invisible death they spread? They may have been blind to it, but there’s nothing like watching a horde of men enveloped in fresh nuclear emissions from a high seat on a canyon somewhere...or better yet, up close and in person...to FEEL the death seep in and take hold at a molecular level…
He shivers with the joy of the memory, and a thought comes to him.
Jackal: This place has gone quiet. It was man who made the bomb, and the bomb which brought me here. All that noise; all that racket - I just couldn’t ignore it any longer...
But now, in the absence of his atomic mayhem, may man himself come to fill the void. After all, his bombs are merely the controlled killing devices of an otherwise uncontrollable killer. Man is a monster - he’s always been a monster - and he’ll come to the desert to escape the laws that would bind him for acting upon his natural instincts. Out here, his bedlam will know no bounds. Here, he’ll gather en masse, drawn by the seductive allure of a new life amongst those of his own ilk.
He turns toward the camera, his eyes alight and impassioned as he speaks.
Jackal: I’m what you might call a firestarter, and what better way to get a good one burning than by allowing man the proper setting to reconnect with his primal rage?
He smiles and closes his eyes…
The nuclear fallout of the bomb tests spread throughout the vast majority of the U.S. Now, as the Jackal focuses his unearthly power and energy, a similar phenomena occurs. All across the nation, the desperate and loathsome are met with a fallback plan that’s never occurred to them before, and nothing has ever sounded so appealing. It’s the desert, an unlikely ally that offers a chance to build anew beyond the laws of the society they’ve come to know.
Within weeks the first outlaw tribes came to be.
And the rest, as they say, is history.
People...people everywhere.
The city is alive with them. They pack the sidewalks like a single organism in constant flux, and the streets are lined with their vessels from end to end. The surrounding buildings are jammed full of them too. For most here it’s business as usual. But from an outsider’s perspective, like that of Dune, the chaotic activity is bothersome, mind-numbing...troubling, even.
We cut to the inside of a car, where both Dune and Mullins stare out at the traffic ahead in silence. “Bugged,” Mullins had mouthed back at the airfield, and Dune had no desire to engage in small talk with the man who took Occulo out of action for months
But though his lips don’t move, his mind is full of activity like the city around him, and we latch onto a stream of consciousness that begins to resonate and become audible.
Dune: I don’t hate most men, but Joey Flash isn’t most men.
He’d take that as a compliment. He’d take that to mean he’s won the World Title already. And in his mind, he has. But the very real hate I have for Flash isn’t so much due to his unrivaled brashness and abrasiveness as it is his downright lack of humanity and inability to stay out of my personal affairs. Others would agree...my fellow Sentinels, Howard Black and Occulo, most of all.
What you did to them is unforgivable, Joey. Sure, Occulo’s healed and back in time for one of the most prestigious events in this industry, but that doesn’t excuse you from all the time you caused him to miss. I’m not a fool; I understand full well it was Mullins who took Occulo out of commission, but it was because of you, Flash. You were the puppet master pulling the strings, as you so love to be. You like to consider yourself in the same position when it comes to me and mine, but you’re far from it, Joey. You have no control over me, especially inside a wrestling ring beneath the lights of home. That’s where I thrive. That’s where I get shit done. And what the fuck have you done in the ring lately - won a string of matches against midcard talent? It’ll take more than the mediocre standard you’ve set for yourself since losing the TV Title to get over on me you holier than thou son of a bitch.
Weeks ago in the desert you asked me how this would end - if it even COULD end. Well it can, Joey; it will. But this doesn’t end in the dark, fucked-up-fairytale manner you seem to imagine it will. This isn’t your time. Do I even need to bring up the fact that you snapped the exalted losing streak of Adam Young not long ago? I don’t have to spice that shit up to make it burn, but to be honest even mentioning it is like beating a dead horse. And don’t even get me started on Grime. Since dropping the TV Title to that talentless void of humanity, you’ve devolved from a potentially great wrestler to a goddamn laughing stock.
And now you’re facing the World Champion - the very best of the best.
What the fuck?
That’s what I’d be asking had I not been privy to all your bullshit shenanigans that wound up reaching far too close to home for me to ignore. I guess underachieving, overrated motherfuckers around the Federation should take note: if you want to get a World Title shot down the line, it doesn’t matter what you do in the ring on Sundays. Just fuck with the most talented in-ring performer on the roster without shame or remorse for a while and you’re sure to get a shot. That’s all Joey’s done to get his. But sneaking around and fucking with me outside the ring is an entirely different game than trying to best me between the ropes. And when the end of each month rolls around, you can bet your ass I’m in prime form.
I’ve never lost in a PPV match, Joey. I don’t buckle when the pressure’s on; I don’t succumb to the heat when the fires are closing in. And they are for you, Joey. You’re surrounded by a sea of them, and with each passing second they inch closer to their next meal. You’ve come a long way from where you started in the WCF, but the back road you’ve chosen to take to the summit of my mountain hasn’t gone unwatched; your fumbling ascent hasn’t gone unnoticed. I’m ready for you, Joey - as ready as I’ve been for all the others I’ve flung from the mountaintop.
What the fuck makes you think you’re better than them? You’re not, for what it’s worth - not by a long shot. But you don’t listen. You don’t pay attention. If you did, you’d never question my place at the top of the WCF hierarchy. You’d stand humbled by what I’ve done as opposed to desecrating it, if only inside your mind...but you’ve taken it far beyond the confines of your skull, and for that I’d love nothing more than to see it crushed before I pin you and retain.
Fuck you, Joey Flash.
This doesn’t end well for you. You’re not coming out on top. You’ve wronged me far too greatly and far too many times to be let off so easy as to not spend a few weeks in a hospital bed after our inevitably-epic showdown. Cheap shotting me is one thing, but in setting your hands on Freeman last week...in setting your sights on the love of my life, Pinky, before that...you’ve earned yourself the fiercest, most dominant beatdown you’ll ever receive in what’s becoming a disappointing and lackluster career. It mirrors your private life, I suppose, which hasn’t turned out the way you’d planned it either. Perhaps that’s why you’re so eager to blend the two: your failures in each have made them wholly indistinguishable.
Would that you could hear my thoughts, you piece of shit. I’d give you one final warning: leave them alone. Pinky, Freeman, Chief, my dog...and my unborn child, most of all. But I needn’t remind you of that. You’re not so desperate as to harm them…
Or are you?
You’re unpredictable, Joey, and while I know exactly what to expect this Sunday at WAR when we settle this once and for all, I don’t know what you’ll do before or after your devastating loss. Take one look at all those I’ve defended my World Title against and you’ll get an idea of just how devastating defeat by my hand and the long fall from the top can be. Look to your former Vapor King partner, Ice Beckman, or those DRG boys, Deuce Murdock and Thomas Bates. Look to the Ultimate Showdown participants, most of whom are no longer on the roster. That’s the kind of power this Title holds, Joey. There’s no feeling in the world like ripping the Title from a lesser competitor and raising it high above his head. That’s a feeling you’ll never know as long as I wear the strap. And in the absence of such a monumental experience, don’t you dare go and pull a Columbine in the locker room…
Or worse yet, find your way to the desert.
Never - EVER - do I want to see you out there again. If I so much as get wind that you’ve come back to my corner of the earth...so fucking help you, Joey. Because I know you won’t have come to drop in and say, “Hello.” Tragedy is what you’ll look to achieve...but I won’t let you do it. I’d rather die than let you come between the ones I love.
But you know better. Surely you know better.
Either way, take my advice and prepare early for the crippling defeat that’s to come. Don’t get your hopes up like all the rest so laughably do. It’ll only make your fall that much more devastating. Unlike some may tell you, there’s life after death by Sandstorm in the ring. And while that particular afterlife isn’t the paradise as told of in scripture, it certainly isn’t the hell you’re making it out to be. After all, the only change will be the fact that I thrashed you, pinned you, and retained my World Title; that I proved my in-ring supremacy over you beyond a shadow of a doubt...as if there ever was one to begin with.
His stream of consciousness fades out, and a few seconds later the screen cuts to black.
The sunlight of early afternoon hits a quaint, relatively secluded NYC park. Shades of autumn paint the trees, and as we zoom out slowly a dying leaf comes into view. It falls, and we follow it’s chaotic descent until it crosses the plane of Dune’s half-masked face. The shot zooms out and pans over to show the WCF World Champion sitting beside John Mullins at a bench, though he doesn’t look his way as he speaks.
Dune: Why here?
Mullins: My car’s bugged. The CIA keeps watch on the world, and that includes their own...disgraced as they may be.
Dune: That’s not what I’m asking. Why HERE? What kind of significance does this place hold for you?
Mullins: None.
Dune shakes his head disbelievingly before he continues.
Dune: Your phone’s bugged. Your car’s bugged. Well now we’re bug free, so speak your peace.
Mullins: Joey Flash slipped through my fingers and ruined my -
Dune snatches Mullins by the collar and pulls him in close.
Dune: I don’t want to hear another word about Flash. He’s mine, Mullins, and mine alone. Our war ends in the ring. It doesn’t expand beyond. I won’t let it. I’m not here because of him; I’m here because of this Jackal - now tell me everything you know about him.
Dune releases him, and Mullins catches his breath and swallows hard before he responds.
Mullins: I’ve spent time in your neck of the woods. CIA, Dune - we have no bounds. And as you know, the Mojave is scene to some bizarre shit. It’s been a haven for madness and chaos since the 60’s...and to this day the outside public is none the wiser.
Dune: The desert is hell on earth. You don’t have to remind me.
Mullins: And yet, against all odds, you survived there. Your parents, murdered when you were a child. Your older brother, slaughtered right in front of you. So much death, and yet you survived...all because he wanted you to.
Dune: He, being the Jackal, I presume.
Mullins: You're his pet, Dune. Your his toy; his latest fancy, and he set to work on you from day one - before that, even. He’s the maestro conducting the tragic orchestra that is your life thus far. All your hate - all the loss it springs from - it’s by design. The ebb and flow of your life is predictable, and each incoming tide hits harder than the last. First it was your parents. Next it was your brother. And now, Dune...now it’s you.
Dune sighs impatiently.
Dune: A demon’s been manipulating my life...is that what you’re saying?
Mullins: Yes - a demon or something like it. He’s the one who’s responsible for bringing the tribes to desert in the first place. I first met him when I was investigating the disappearance of two young girls around the time Occulo was born. That was when…
Mullins continues to talk, but Dune isn’t listening. He seethes and stares straight ahead, contemplating his next move as a sort of primal anger boils up from within. His questioning of his dog’s strange behavior seems supremely foolish now, and for the first time in a few hours he thinks of home. He wonders if Freeman’s found his runaway best friend; if Pinky and the baby are alright.
He turns to Mullins and cuts him off mid-sentence.
Dune: Take me back to the plane.
Mullins: But we’ve only scratched the -
Dune: We’re done here. Let’s go.
He gets up, lifting Mullins by his collar. He pushes him toward the car when Mullins’ eyes light up at the sight of something at Dune’s back. The Champ turns to see a beautiful woman and her young child exit the far treeline and enter into the bright, sunlit field before him.
Mullins: There she is. She likes to bring him here in the afternoons.
Dune: Who is it?
Though he realizes as he asks.
Alessandre Allegri, the soon to be wife of Joey Flash, plays and laughs with four-year-old Christian Flash as Dune stares on in momentary horror. Something trapped inside him begs to be let free as he watches the mother and son from an unsafe distance. Silent rage spills over as he turns on Mullins.
Dune: You piece of shit. I knew you chose this place for a reason.
Mullins: They’re a part of this, Dune. The Jackal knows how to -
Dune shoots forward, manhandling Mullins into the driver’s seat of his car before shutting the door on him. He gets in the back right away, narrowly avoiding Alessandre’s gaze as she turns to see what the commotion is from afar.
Dune: Drive.
...but the brief physical confrontation can’t help but remind him of what’s to come at WAR with Joey Flash, and he leans in as Mullins starts the car.
Dune: Where’s Joey?
Mullins: He’s in the desert.
Dune: No...no, that was weeks ago. I was with him then.
Mullins: He’s gone back.
He turns toward Dune.
Mullins: You didn’t know?
Dune: But why would he -
We cut from the car to a shot of Dune’s rottweiler hundreds of miles away. The black dog sprints toward a column of rising smoke in the desert. It’s the Double X - what’s left of it, anyway, and scattered around it are several dead bodies. Nothing lives here, as the dog finds out upon rummaging around the place.
The scent of the uninvited Joey Flash stings his nostrils before the familiar smell of Pinky washes it away. He wags his tail amidst the smoke and burning rubble, though his excitement ceases as a man steps out from a dark corridor left standing.
The rottweiler bays at the Jackal, who laughs as he slowly approaches the beast.
Jackal: What’s that, boy - fire on the old hill? Or is it another turn with me behind the wheel that you’re wanting?
The dog’s barking ceases at his voice, and he whines as he backpedals in the path of the Jackal. He false-charges, and the dog turns tail and flees for home.
Jackal: That’s right, boy - that’s the way he went with her broken body!
He chuckles, infinitely amused at himself as he adds under his breath.
Jackal: And tell your master I’ll be seeing him soon.
And the screen cuts to black.
High in the air, WCF One speeds at upwards of 500 mph...but it’s not fast enough.
“He’s in the desert.”
The sinister grin of Joey Flash is imprinted on Dune’s mind as he considers the whereabouts and reasonings of his arch nemesis. He grits his teeth, fuming at allowing himself to be caught off guard. He’d called each in his small circle of companions from Mullins’ phone in the city, though neither Pinky, nor Chief, nor Freeman had answered.
He thinks of Pinky; of the growing baby in her belly. A rage comes over him, and he nearly wrecks the cabin before he manages to smother the flames.
Hundreds of miles and more than a few hours separate him from home. Powerless to provide his loved ones protection from the presumed-cruelties of Joey Flash, he flicks his eyes toward the lense and begins to speak.
Dune: Goddamn you, Flash - what the FUCK are you doing in the desert?! I’ve told you time and again to leave the ones I love out of this. They have absolutely nothing to do with the war we’ve been waging since spring. But you refuse, and in so doing you’ve incurred the full might of my infernal wrath. You would have been wiser to make a deal with the devil himself; now you won’t get off so easy.
You know the things I’ve seen, Joey.
You know the evil misdeeds I’ve avenged during my time here under the sun.
And yet you continue to dip your feet in the fire.
You ignore the warnings; you ignore my strength. I’m not talking about the ability to toss you around and snap your fucking vertebrae at will. I’m talking about the mental fortitude I possess. I’m talking about my inability to let anyone who’s wronged me off the hook so long as we’re both alive and breathing. And if I find you’re guilty of some unforgivable atrocity out here on the plains of the desert...you’ll never go free again.
This CAN end, Joey. It will, and hopefully at WAR…
But that all depends on what awaits me back home.
Dune doesn’t stop there, though a high pitch ringing rises from nothing to overcome his voice as we begin to zoom in on his face. Soon his voice is drowned out completely, and his mask fills the screen.
A tiny, circular piece of tape comes into view. It’s a microphone, transparent and almost invisible to the naked eye. Mullins planted it there as Dune was busy manhandling him back into the driver’s seat upon catching sight of Joey Flash’s fiance. But Dune is none the wiser. He continues letting loose on Flash in the only way a man can from 40,000 feet up.
The ringing persists as the shot fades slowly onto another.
The hot pink hair that is Pinky’s namesake makes her distinguishable even from afar. From the edge of the horseshoe canyon that conceals Dune’s home, we can see her lying on the ground just outside the front door. A black mass lays beside her, and it isn’t until it’s head pops up at the sound of an approaching motor that we realize it’s Dune’s rottweiler. He stands up slowly, though beside him Pinky doesn’t move an inch.
A buggy shoots by the screen, and we catch up to Dune as he nears his canyonside abode. He sees Pinky right off, and his heart sinks as she fails to move with his closing. He pulls up beside his rottweiler, glad, of course, to see his oldest and most loyal companion returned and apparently back to its old self...but it’s Pinky he remains focused on, and he brushes the dog away as he races toward her.
Kneeling down, he assesses the damage...and his head nearly explodes with rage.
Her face is bloodstained and badly beaten, but upon closer inspection he realizes that’s not the only part of her that’s been bloodied. His gaze moves down her petite frame in horror to see dried blood covering her clothes from the waist down. Tears of rage fill his eyes, and he gently sets his hand upon her navel. As he does, a pang unlike he’s ever felt strikes him, and he knows the worst has happened.
He curses Joey Flash in a fit of unfathomable rage, convinced that he’s the man responsible for this unforgivable act.
He applies pressure to Pinky’s palm and gently rubs at her temple, careful not to shake her awake in case of neck or spinal damage, when suddenly her eyes flutter open. The two lovers lock eyes, and Pinky smiles before wincing in pain. Her eyes begin to roll back in her head as she manages to mutter something too quiet for Dune to hear. He grips her hand and leans in.
Dune: What’s that, my love?
Pinky: Joey…Joey, he…
“...saved me.”
Which he did, though not before the Jackal churned her womb to a pulp. But her voice fades before she can utter those two most crucial words.
Dune grits his teeth, and they nearly shatter as he’s given what he assumes to be the confirmation he’s after.
Dune: It’s okay - Joey’s gone. I’m here now.
But she doesn’t hear him. Her eyes roll back in her head before they close, and she goes limp.
Tears well up in his icy blue eyes, and they fall to mix with the dried blood and dirt that’s smeared all about his only true love’s broken face. He begins to sob uncontrollably, as he did on the night his brother was taken from him and never since.
And as the tears blind him, he finds himself falling into darkness…
Falling…
Falling…
When the fires rise to catch him.
He shoots his head to the sky, and just as the first few notes of a wrathful scream escape his lungs, the screen cuts to black.
Sharp grains of sand shoot into Dune’s eyes as he squints at the rising emergency helicopter and its precious cargo. It took over an hour for the paramedics to reach his coordinates, and in that time Pinky hadn’t spoken another word.
“Joey...Joey, he…”
And those that went unspoken: “..saved me.”
His rottweiler licks at his healing-hand once more, though Dune ignores it. His mind is elsewhere, and he’s blind and numb to the world around him. For a brief moment he snaps out of it, and he slowly walks over to let the hound inside before punching in the code to close the steel door behind him.
He looks out at the distant horizon as the sound of a buggy comes to within earshot. A few seconds later Freeman pulls up beside him, tears in his eyes as he gets out.
Freeman: My god, Dune - it’s Chief! He’s dead! Someone blew the Double X to hell and put a bullet in Chief’s skull! Have you seen Pinky?!
Dune: He got to her while I was gone.
Freeman: He what?! Who did?!
Dune lunges forward, grabbing Freeman by the collar and screaming in his face.
Dune: JOEY FLASH DID! HE KILLED MY UNBORN CHILD!
He throws Freeman to the ground without thought or remorse, and the old man’s skull collides with a rock that knocks him out cold. A trickle of blood seeps out from the wound, but Dune pays it no mind as he makes for his buggy and speeds off toward the setting sun.
Back to the airfield; back to The Bronx to find and kill Joey Flash.
As he speeds across the sands, his fury can be contained no longer, and he screams with a rage he’s never felt before.
Dune: JOEY! GODDAMN YOU, JOEY! YOU’LL PAY FOR THIS IN BLOOD!
The dry desert wind carries his words to a man standing up ahead, though Dune is yet to see him.
Dune: I WARNED YOU! YOU WANTED THIS TO END, BUT NOW IT NEVER CAN - NOT INSIDE THE RING AS IT WAS SUPPOSED TO!
He catches sight of the man, but he doesn’t cease, nor does he slow down.
Dune: IT’S ALL GONE, JOEY! ALL HOPE; ALL LIGHT! GONE!
A crossroads approaches, and finally Dune begins to slow as the familiar face of the man comes into view.
Dune: Gone, Joey. And in the darkness, I finally see.
Despite his haste, he slows to a stop at the center of the crossroads.
There stands the Jackal, his grey suit clean as ever. He smiles to see Dune get out and approach. Just before he speaks, the Jackal puts a finger to his mouth. He reaches out and snags the tiny translucent microphone off the bottom of Dune’s mask, revealing it to him before burying it in the sand.
Jackal: A microphone...talk to any CIA agents of late - perhaps one by the name of John Mullins?
Dune: Who are you?
Jackal: Didn’t he tell you? My name’s Jack. But you don’t believe in that nonsense he was trying to feed you - I can tell. That’s good. If only you hadn’t fell into his trap. He drew you out of the desert so the one you’re shouting about could fight his battle unopposed. And he did just that.
Dune’s head is flooded with questions, though the Jackal continues before he can spit one out.
Jackal: What is it you want, Dune?
Dune: Blood; vengeance; death.
Jackal: From?
Dune: Joey Flash.
Jackal: And what would you give to reap it?
Dune: Anything.
He says it in full knowledge of the strange nature of the present-encounter. He doesn’t shy away from the darkness that radiates from the Jackal. Rather, he’s drawn toward the abyss, even though deep down he knows to fight it’s pull. But in the end, he can’t help but give in.
The Jackal puts out his hand and smiles.
Jackal: It’s a deal...
Dune reaches out, but just as he makes contact, the Jackal speaks up with a single request.
Jackal: ...so long as you let me in.
And both men vanish from sight.
We zoom out from the crossroads, and after a few seconds of silence, the screen fades to black.
Koyaanisqatsi (ko-yaa-nis-katsi): Life disintegrating
“Night is blighted and darkness glows. The Black One remains, remains, remains…” - Ingmar Bergman, "The Seventh Seal"
“I was me, but now he’s gone.” - METALLICA
The faraway cries of a desperate woman precede the vision of a torch-lit struggle in the distance. As we zoom in, we can see the body of a man lying on the ground in front of her. His blood stains the sand that four outlaws trample upon as they torment the woman. She’s backed up against a canyon wall, and they jab at the air in front of her with their blades and torches as they close in.
Suddenly one charges, and we pan away as the woman lets out a final scream before she’s silenced forever.
The smooth sands that glide beneath us are made blue by the moon’s reflected stellar light. The camera begins to slow, and it comes to a stop on a man in a grey suit walking toward a small nook in a nearby canyon. It’s the Jackal, and when he nears, a teenage boy leaps out and throws a knife at his head. It’s right on target, and the man doesn’t move...but it misses all the same. He doesn’t bother to dodge the next one that flies at him either, though by then he’s merely feet away.
The teenager charges, and the man smiles before uttering three words.
Jackal: Let me in.
The Jackal disappears, and all that’s left is the teenage boy. A struggle ensues within the boy’s mind, but the jackal wins out easily. He speaks aloud to his vessel, who’s trapped somewhere within.
Jackal: You’re awfully ready to die, aren’t you? And so soon after losing both your parents just now.
From a void within, the boy responds.
Sean: Let me out you son of a bitch!
The Jackal laughs to hear his rage.
Jackal: Don’t worry, child - I’m not here for you...not yet. You can have your pathetic body back in a moment or two. I only want to hold you baby brother...what is it you call him again?
The possessed teenaged boy walks back over to the nook, wherein lies a white blanket that kicks and shuffles atop a smooth rock-ledge. He unwraps it carefully, revealing a bright and beaming baby boy beneath. His supple skin shines in the moonlight as his older brother again calls out from within himself.
Sean: Goddamn you! Don’t you lay a finger on him!
Jackal: Shh...
He picks the baby and holds him out at arm’s length. His adorable, once-smiling face takes on a somber expression, and his icy blue eyes remain fixated on his possessed-brother as if he knows something’s not right.
Jackal: There you are. Dune, is it?
A smile comes over his face as he pulls the baby in close.
Jackal: I’ll be seeing you.
A gust of wind blows, and in an instant Dune’s older brother has regained control of his mind and body. He holds his baby brother tight as fear and the realization that his parents have just been murdered takes hold. The wind moves on, and he hunkers down in the small cave, cradling Dune. We zoom in on the future WCF World Champion, whose eyes stare into the screen as the shot fades to another.
Dune ages 28 years in a few seconds. He continues to stare into the screen, though his eyes have drained of all emotion. We zoom out and pan over to see the Jackal - or Jack, as he’s known to Dune - staring back. They stand at a crossroads in the desert, and Jack smiles as he puts out his hand.
Jack: It’s a deal…
They shake.
Jack: ...so long as you let me in.
In in an instant Dune finds himself transported from the crossroads to the passenger seat of a Jaguar XJ, whose luxury is a far cry from the harshness of the previous locale.
For a moment he forgets that his only love, Pinky, has lapsed into a coma; that his unborn child who was growing within her only hours before has been churned to a pulp. He even forgets about Joey Flash, who he’s 100% certain is guilty of the unspeakable deed. “Joey...Joey, he…,” Pinky had said before she fell quiet. But two crucial words went unspoken: “...saved me.”
He turns to see Jack behind the wheel, calmly hugging the turns of the winding road they travel down. The sun was shining a moment ago, but now it’s hidden far below the horizon.
Dune: How’d we get here?
Jack’s eyes peak his way, and he smiles.
Jack: I brought you with me just now. It’s good to see you aren’t throwing a fit. Some do, you know - in their confusion. Of course they do. They’re only human, and by rule they fear what they don’t understand.
Dune: I don’t fear you -
Jack: That’s good.
Dune: - but I want to know what you are.
Jack: Didn’t John Mullins tell you?
Dune: He said you were a demon.
Jack laughs as he narrowly avoids a small mouse scurrying across his lane.
Jack: Wrong.
Dune: Then what are you?
Jack: An angel, more like - a guardian angel: yours. But in truth I’m neither angel nor demon, and what I am isn’t as important as what I can do.
Dune: And what’s that?
Jack: Bring you Joey Flash. Blood; vengeance; death - that is still what you want?
The name of his arch rival brings it all back: Pinky; his unborn child. Months of in-ring and backstage trespasses seem meaningless now as he imagines how and why Flash committed his crimes. A tinge of doubt strikes him as he considers the isolated destruction of Pinky’s womb, though it only lasts a moment before Jack interrupts his thoughts.
Jack: You’re not sure if it was him.
Dune: I am...I just wish I knew how.
Jack: Would you like to know - would you like to see?
Two voices speak out from within. One pleads to be spared what are sure to be unforgettably gruesome images; the other begs to bear witness to Joey Flash’s guilt.
He turns.
Dune: Yes.
Jack grabs hold of his hand, and in so doing a vision overtakes his experience:
He’s back in the wastes, outside the Double X as Joey Flash and a group of masked outlaws prepare to storm the bar. A projectile explosive blasts a hole in the side of the building before Joey and the rest spill through, where the only resistance they meet is Chief - Pinky’s father and Dune’s good friend.
Dune shouts as Joey Flash raises his gun and takes aim at Chief’s head…
But his screams are silent, and the bullet blasts away the big native’s skull.
Pinky’s screams, on the other hand, are anything but silent. They claw at his ears as he watches on in a heated, adrenaline-fueled rage. A familiar feeling of powerlessness overcomes him - the same he felt the night his brother was slain while he watched on in binds - and he nearly loses his mind as his nightmarish premonitions begin to unfold.
Joey Flash calls the other men off as they back Pinky into a corner. “You’ll have your turn,” he says to them before grabbing hold of her chin. “But I get first taste.” She punches him square in the jaw, though he recovers in time to catch her arm as she flees. He throws her to the ground, where he falls on top of her and begins pummeling her face. When she’s finally unconscious, Joey begins unbuttoning her shirt...and Dune can take no more.
He reaches out for Flash with arms that aren’t there, and in his inability to save the one he loves, he lets out a furious, silent scream…
Which becomes audible as the vision fades and reality takes hold.
Beads of sweat are flung from his brow as he looks around in panic. He’s back in the Jaguar, and Jack hugs another tight corner along the winding, two-lane road as he speaks.
Jack: Now you see.
Regaining himself, Dune sits back stares ahead in horrible contemplation. In his silence, the Jackal continues.
Jack: Somewhere beneath the darkness that surrounds Joey Flash, there hides a fractured human being. I can help you break him, Dune. I can help you take away everything he is; everything he’s become...until all that’s left is the darkness. Is that what you want?
Normally Dune would give a resounding “no” and say that Flash was his and his alone in the ring at WAR...but the past couple hours have changed everything. Having witnessed the terrifyingly great albeit mysterious power of the Jackal, which at this point Dune doesn’t question the legitimacy of, the sadistic thought of Flash suffering by not only his hand but by the Jackal’s as well sounds all the more appealing.
Staring out at the road ahead, a single word escapes his lips.
Dune: Yes.
It’s opposite of the one Joey Flash uttered when posed with a similar offer in the desert. His denial of the Jackal had lead to the horrors that unfolded at the Double X...though Flash was innocent of any true guilt.
The Jackal smiles. His plans have gone off brilliantly. With Dune so utterly convinced that Flash committed the unspeakable atrocities that befell Pinky and her unborn child, he has the WCF World Champion in the palm of his hand. He steps on the gas, and we zoom out of the car as it speeds off into the night.
John Mullins finishes a cup of coffee as he stands in front of the T.V. He’s seen the news-story a hundred times since it happened just under a week before, and yet still it fascinates him.
Anchor: ...devastating events at the wedding of Joey Flash. Whether or not foul play was at hand isn’t a question, though at this point authorities haven’t given any information with regard to possible suspects.
He shuts the T.V. off and walks over to a nearby computer. His visit with Dune in NYC a few days prior runs through his mind as he tries to make sense of it all. He’d warned Dune about the Jackal, having dealt with him in the past while with the CIA, though their visit had ended with Dune firmly disbelieving the Jackal was a threat to him - or that he even existed - and that Joey Flash was the only person he needed to worry about.
But before Dune left NYC, Mullins managed to plant a tiny, translucent microphone on his mask. Now he pulls up the playback with the hopes of finding evidence linking the Jackal to the crime. He puts his headphones on and sifts through his conversation with Dune in route back to the airfield.
We pick up with WCF World Champion on board WCF One right where we left off last time: near the beginning of his tirade against Joey Flash for returning to the desert.
Dune: The Mojave awaits me now, Joey. Had I known you were going back , I would’ve stuck around to play a bit of cat and mouse before intercepting you again. We had a cordial enough visit the first time around - even if it was marred by tension and quarrels; even if you blindsided me and left me for dead in that little slice of hell called Satan’s Maw, where the magma seeps to the surface. Did you enjoy your stay, Joey? You must have, because apparently you’ve come back for a second visit.
But you’re not sightseeing. You’re not off on a vision quest or some bullshit like you were a few weeks ago. I know why you’re in the desert, Joey, and it’s because of me. I’m not being vain in my assumption; I’m only being logical. You’re not there to build me up though. You’ve come to burn me down, and I wouldn’t put it past you to try and do so by any means necessary. Months of baiting me on with in-ring interferences and sneak attacks backstage could only take you so far, and in your failure to do any sort of meaningful damage to my psyche, you changed the plan. You turned your attention away from me in favor of those I care for most in this world.
And it all began with Howard Black.
Sure you fucked over Occulo, but so did his father. For the crimes against Howard though, you bear the full brunt of the blame.
I remember it like it was yesterday, Joey. There I was in the Sentinels locker room. “I don’t want your help tonight, Dune,” Howard had said. “Flash and Fly are mine.” And I believed him. He was one of the greatest fighters I’d ever seen. But as the handicap match unfolded, and you clung to his arm after the final bell had rung, I couldn’t sit back and watch any longer. Out I ran, and there you were with your proposal: put my Title on the line and you’d put my partner down. I held up my end of the bargain...but you shattered Howie’s arm all the same.
Despite my undying hatred for you ever since, I’ll be the first to say it was a beautiful plan: get to the Champion by using the ones he holds most dear. And you did...because ever since the amplified echo of Howard’s arm snapping in half raped my ears, I’ve wanted nothing more than to meet you in the ring.
But you didn’t stop there. Next it was none other than Seth Lerch who helped you strike at me far beyond the finite boundaries of the squared circle. His no-physical-contact clause in our WAR contracts and subsequent request that each of us bring a personal friend to bear witness to the signing allowed you the perfect opportunity. You beat the piss out of my best friend and mentor, Freeman, and even though he’s taken far worse, it was another unforgivable trespass.
And now...now you’re in the desert, where I’m not.
Now the news of my unborn child growing in Pinky’s belly has spread.
And it just so happens that she’s the only one left on what must be a short list...not to mention the most vulnerable.
You piece of fucking shit. Don’t you dare, Joey. Don’t you...
God DAMN it!
Saying it from above the clouds makes me feel even more powerless. Just wait until I get down there you piece of shit. And if you’ve fled by the time I come looking and I don’t get my hands on you until WAR, so be it. Either way you’ll burn before this is over.
You’re so goddamn proud of yourself right now. You fancy yourself the cleverest motherfucker in the world for your changing of the plan - for trying to get at me through those I love. For as long as you could remember you were the smartest man in the room, but if I haven’t buried you beneath the sands by the time WAR rolls around, you won’t even be the smartest man in the ring. You’ve met your match and then some, Joey. Aside from a few humiliating and thus far career defining losses, sad as that is to say, you haven’t done much to bury yourself. In fact, you’re a hell of a fighter...but the same can be said of damn near everyone on the roster.
So don’t get it twisted, Joey. You’re not here because of your talent. You’re not the legitimate #2 man in the WCF - nor are you #1...but you know that. In targeting the pillars of my life - The Sentinels, Freeman...and god forbid, Pinky - you haven’t taken the upper hand; you haven’t seen the light, as you’d like to imagine. You’ve only deepened the darkness that’s fated to consume you.
What if I were like you, Joey? What if I weren’t the foremost talent in this industry and I was just a sniveling little cunt trying to get your attention. I could, you know. You’ve got friends and family too, Joey, and they’re embedded deep into the fabric of your life. But it wouldn’t be so hard to reap a bit of what you’ve sewn. I can think of just as many cruel things to do to Alessandre and little Christian as you could Pinky. How would you like that? I don’t think you would...but then again, I never thought you’d take our struggle so far beyond the ring. At this point, I’m not sure what to think of you.
Are you coming for her, Joey, as my gut tells me? Or is that just my nature fucking with me. I’ve never loved anyone I didn’t lose. I often find myself daydreaming of losing those close to me in unrealistically horrific ways. It’s strange...but it’s my nature, and I can only hope that’s what has me walking a razor’s edge.
But it’s possible to fool one’s nature. Right now, I’m imagining finding Pinky unharmed and waiting for me at home. With the sight of her, the past five hours I spent raving about you on a plane will have become meaningless. I can feel the relief washing over me now. I can feel her in my arms, vibrant and alive with the thought of our child and what’s to come of our future. As we embrace, there’s nothing withheld...
Yet as the tide of relief begins to ebb, another washes in - that of vengeance against Joey fucking Flash.
No matter what I find upon returning home, you’ll never escape my thoughts, Joey - not until I’ve done you in at WAR or sooner. Pray you last until the opening bell, because if I find you in the wastes after learning you’ve laid your hands on Pinky - a finger, even - it’ll be the last stop of a long, shameful, wasted life.
You should have died long ago, Joey. But just as steel bullets have torn holes in your body, my in-ring dominance of the WCF only served to tear holes in your mind; to infiltrate your psyche...unlike your fighting ability could ever do to mine. But that’s because I’m not like you, Joey. I don’t need to act out to get attention. All I’ve got to do is step in the ring and let my killer instinct take over. Once that happens, no one’s safe...least of all you.
Mullins pauses the recording. “Not a word of the Jackal,” he thinks to himself, but there’s still plenty of audio left.
He reflects on Dune’s words to Joey Flash in hindsight of what happened on the day of Flash’s wedding. A visible shudder passes through him before he rises from his seat to make a cup of coffee. The camera remains fixated on his desk, and after a few seconds the screen fades to black.
A dim light fades in to reveal a sea of sand beneath a canopy of stars. We pan over, and the face of the Jackal overtakes the screen. He smiles to hear the telltale sounds of a struggle closeby. We turn with him as he walks toward it. Up ahead, a group of outlaws separate a young man and a teenaged boy. They’re brothers, and it’s been 15 years since the last time we saw them together on the night their parents were murdered.
The Jackal closes on the chaos, and his form begins to dematerialize to all but us. He walks unseen past some outlaws as they beat the older Sean, and he smiles as he turns to see the 15 year old Dune being bound to a stake. While the others turn their attention to Sean, the Jackal walks toward Dune. He inspects his face as he draws near, reaching out and running his hand down his unblemished jawline from ear to ear. Dune feels only a slight tingling, and he shivers as he shouts at his brother’s handlers.
Dune: Leave him alone you motherfuckers!
In the blink of an eye the Jackal shoots into the body of the outlaw leader,who turns his attention from Sean to Dune. The possessed man walks over and grabs his chin before raising a blade. He’s about to dig in when Dune speaks up.
Dune: Don’t do this.
The Jackal smiles from within.
Jackal: Oh, but I must.
He tears into Dune’s face, giving him a crimson mask and shredding it beyond repair before turning back to Sean. He doesn’t hesitate to jab the very same blade up under his sternum, wrenching it out only to jab it back in up under the ribs near his heart. The wounds ensure that death is imminent, and the Jackal transfers himself from the outlaw to Sean. He senses the overwhelming pain shooting through him, though he himself is immune to it’s crippling barbs.
Jackal: I haven’t been HERE in awhile. You remember me, don’t you?
In shock from the pain, Sean manages two final words.
Sean: Save him.
Jackal: That’s the idea.
Confusion becomes his final experience before drifting away into unconsciousness . Meanwhile, amidst the agonizing screams of Dune, the Jackal departs his dying vessel and strolls casually toward the door to the brothers’ subterranean abode just a few feet away. Hell hounds bay from within - three of them - and he crouches down before whispering through the heavy boards.
Jackal: Let me in.
In an instant he’s taken control of one of the three rottweilers - the same one he would possess in the weeks leading up to WAR - and the shot fades out as they break the door down and begin to scatter the outlaws.
We fade back in a few minutes later.
Blood spills from Dune’s freshly butchered face as he kneels beside his brother and two of his three dogs, who by now are gone forever. He’s alone aside from the only companion he has left...or so he thinks.
As the camera pans over and zooms out, we see the Jackal standing over Dune’s shoulder in the dark of night, smiling at the trail he’s blazed for the future WCF World Champion.
With the image, the screen cuts to black.
Back in the present day, Dune and the Jackal emerge from the winding, tree-lined road they’d been traveling down for hours. The sun has come up, though it’s still early morning. Dune begins to snap out of a dreamlike haze as the Jaguar speeds through the fog. It seems like it was only moments ago that he was holding Pinky in the desert, staring down at her broken face and the grisly wounds Joey Flash inflicted upon her navel...or so he remains convinced. But all the while, the guilty party sits beside him.
Dune turns to Jack, breaking a long spell of silence that he’s just now become aware of.
Dune: Where are we going?
The Jackal nods ahead as they round a bend to reveal their destination: a huge glass city and the sprawl that surrounds it.
Jackal: New York, New York.
Dune: Why?
Jackal: To find and kill Joey Flash, of course. Why else?
A flood of memories comes rushing over him: the rage he’d felt upon realizing his unborn son was dead as Pinky slipped into a coma; throwing Freeman to the ground and leaving him bleeding and unconscious as he fled to the airfield; the Jackal cutting him off at the crossroads…
Dune: How do you plan to do it? And where? I want Flash to pay for what he’s done more than anyone, but we can’t just kill him in the middle of the fucking city.
“We.”
Something about the word isn’t right.
Something about this whole thing isn’t right.
Jackal: Don’t worry - we’ll get to that in due time.
Dune: Why are you so eager to help me find him? What’s he done to you?
Jackal: Nothing. It’s the thrill of the hunt, I suppose. Plus, he’s guilty, Dune, and I’m a man of vengeance. I’m the one who helped you seek it when your brother was murdered before you. I’ve had my eye on you for a long time, and now we’ve come to the brink.
Dune: The brink of what?
Jackal: War.
He thinks of what he’s gotten himself into, stuck alone with this man - this THING - whose awe-inducing power is pervaded by a cold, foreboding darkness. Dune had clung to it in his immediate rage, though now it sets off alarm signals in his mind. The Jackal hears them too.
Jackal: Don’t worry, Dune. There won’t be any witnesses. And I’ll save him just for you. I won’t lay a single hand on his poor, sobbing head.
Dune: What do you mean you’ve had your eye on me for a long time? What do you mean you’ve -
The Jackal grabs hold of Dune’s hand, and once more a vision overtakes his experience. It’s similar to the one we saw at the outset, though the Jackal has changed it to his liking. It shows Sean cradling Dune in his arms moments after his parents were killed as the Jackal watches on from afar, never interacting with the brothers.
The vision fades to another - the one we’ve just come out of, though again the Jackal has seen fit to change it so as to keep up the ruse that he’s on Dune’s side. The Jackal stands beside Dune in support as the unpossessed outlaw leader butchers his face then proceeds to murder his older brother. Just as the dogs break through, reality takes hold once more.
But the visions don’t have the same convincing effect as they did the first time, and Dune shoots his head toward the Jackal in fury.
Dune: What the fuck are you?!
Jackal: Shh...no need to shout. I’m right here - right by your side where I’ve always been.
Dune reaches over and grabs him by his collar before yanking him in.
Dune: Tell me now!
Jackal: I’m not the Devil, if that’s what you’re thinking.
Dune: No - you’re my “guardian angel,” right?
Jackal: Now you’re gettin’ it.
Dune: And how so, because you watched my parents die? Because you watched as my face was torn and flayed; watched as my brother died a slow and agonizing death?!
He throws Dune back against the passenger door, nearly shattering the half-open window.
Jackal: No - because I made them die; I made your face into what it’s become...and in so doing I made you into what you’ve become.
An expression of demonic rage comes over the Jackal’s face before he grabs hold of Dune’s hand once more. This time, the visions he shows Dune are the ones that truly unfolded - the ones we were privy too earlier: the murder of his parents and the possession of his brother; the butchering of his face and the murder of his brother…
Reality takes hold, and Dune doesn’t hesitate to strike. Despite the speeding Jaguar, he throws a series of punches that would have otherwise killed a man...and yet none of them make contact with the Jackal. He laughs as he continues driving toward the glass city far off in the distance.
Jackal: We made a deal, Dune. There’s no turning back now!
Dune reaches for him, once more grabbing only air and the smooth leather seat.
Jackal: You said it yourself: Blood; vengeance;death. The most memorable day of Joey Flash’s life has dawned...
Dune grabs hold of the wheel.
Jackal: ...and I’m not talking about his wedding.
With a powerful thrust of his arm, Dune spins the wheel, sending the Jaguar down a steep grade into a ditch. His head slams against the dash, and bright, flashing colors fill his vision upon impact before fading to reveal the driver’s seat is empty. Dune falls out of the car and looks around for the Jackal, but he’s nowhere in sight. A patch of dark woods lies before him, and he makes his way into the trees in hopes of evading him.
“He penetrates the mind, Dune. Then he takes the body.”
The words of John Mullins ring out in his head as he makes his way deeper into the forest...just as the Jackal would have it. Dune begins a 360 degree scan of the trees, though he only gets about halfway before he sees the man who brought him here. The Jackal looks less human than ever now. His eyes are red and gleaming, and his form is a black shadow compared to the pale flesh of before.
Dune remains frozen against his will as the Jackal closes in silently, his feet never touching the ground. When he’s only a few inches from Dune’s half-masked face, he speaks in a hushed, multi-toned voice, each so deep as to almost be inaudible.
Jackal: We had a deal, Dune.
He runs his shadowy fingers down Dune’s mask just as he’d done to his unscarred face years ago - before butchering it and murdering his older brother. He stares through Dune’s icy blue eyes as he speaks a final phrase.
Jackal: Now let me in.
And the screen cuts to black.
John Mullins shuffles through an old file folder, a fresh cup of coffee at his desk. He finds the right one, and he closes the drawer and sets it on his laps as he reaches for his mug. After a sip, he reaches out and fumbles with the mouse. The screensaver fades and he pulls up the audio recording of Dune we heard part of earlier. He presses “play,” and we pick up with the WCF World Champion where we left off.
Dune: You changed the game, Joey.
You did so in your attempts to provoke me by going after the ones I love. I warned you. I told you this would end at WAR if you reigned it in and stayed the course. It was a simple task, Joey - one you would have benefitted greatly from had you completed it - but it proved too much for you.
You just had to go back to the desert; you just had to get another taste.
But for now I’m going to forget about you being so near to Pinky and my unborn child. The man in me says you aren’t so cruel as to harm a hair on her head...but something worse inside me says otherwise - a darkness I can’t quite grasp. But it grows, Joey. Even now as I near the wastes, I can feel it’s cold spreading through me. That’s the kind of man you are: one who inspires hatred and hostilities, the very thing man as a species has had to overcome to reach the heights we’re at today. But then again, war is inevitable on every scale of humanity. There’s always going to be someone whose jealousy, envy, and greed get the best of them; whose monstrous ego can only be ignored by the masses for so long.
That’s you, Joey. I am what you aspire to be - the greatest fighter in the world - and that maddens you to no end. All the time you spent running drugs and sucking dick for the mafia didn’t make you into the overinflated ego maniac you’ve become though. No, you just happened to stumble into a fucking gym and realize you were the best fighter amongst a herd of absolute shit. That’s what started it all. You beat up on some winos and inner city group-home motherfuckers back in the day and BAM greatest fighter in the world.
What were you fighting for in the gym, Joey - your life? No. You weren’t there out of necessity. You enjoyed it. It gave you that boost you needed - that little bit of reassurance that kept you going. In a life that had crumbled to the ground and would have otherwise been washed far out to sea, the fight is all that kept you anchored to the shore.
It’s that same fight that marks the only dividing-line of our clashing worlds. It’s all we have in common. The only difference is, I didn’t grow up fighting for fun; I did so to stay alive.
You’ve done that a few times as well, though not against such an efficient killing machine as me. And make no mistake, Joey: I will fucking kill you if I return home to find my world in ashes, as I know deep down is one of your burning desires. Because in your mind, with my world turned to ruin, your ultimate goal of shining in the spotlight as WCF World Champion becomes that much more attainable…
But you’re wrong, Joey.
How could making me want to straight up end your life in the ring play to your advantage? Because you want my best? You would have gotten that had we kept all this between the ropes you fucking ass. Now you’ve crossed into another realm though. Unlike you, I didn’t learn how to fight in a gym with safety gear and a tampon in. My first fight was my first kill, and I can assure you fighting for the opportunity to live past the next few minutes is far more intense and impactful than fighting not to get punched in your headgear by a hand wrapped in a goddamn pillow. Your training may have made you better, but it didn’t make you the best. It only fooled you into believing so.
What a cruel jest that is...though you’re not alone in falling for it. There’s thousands of you, Joey - guys who came in gunning for the top and just couldn’t pull the fucking trigger. That’s you. You can aim at me all you want. You can blast away my brothers Occulo and Howard Black; my mentor Freeman...even Pinky and my unborn child, if that IS what you’re up to in the desert as I remain powerless aboard this plane...but you’ll never sink the killing blow in me, Flash. You’ll never bring me down to the darkness I’m set to plunge you in at WAR, or sooner if need be. After all, if history is any indication, down is exactly what you get when your truly mediocre ability is exposed for all to see.
After you lost the TV Title to Grime…
The name hangs in the air, and even Mullins can’t help but laugh at the memory.
Dune: ...you sunk into a black pit of depression. You even went so far as to try and change your very nature and demeanor. But somewhere during the process of rewiring yourself to become a decent human being, you got bored and tired of the true chore it had become. That wasn’t you, Joey. Just like that wasn’t you in the ring against Grime...or so you convinced yourself. But that was you, as is the man who’s been struggling ever since.
You peaked, Joey. Does that scare you? It’s the truth. The few months you spent in the company during 2014 were far better to you than any point in 2015 has been as a whole. You built yourself up quite nicely by the turn of the new year, Joey. Funny then how you’ve never been the same since I came around in late December.
Your body hasn’t changed though, and that leaves only one thing that could have: your mind.
I fuck with you, don’t I, Joey? My unrivaled talent, I mean. You rage to see it; you want it to be yours. But it can’t be, and neither can what it’s brought me; what’s been around my waist since May: the WCF World Title. I’m not Natural Ice Beckman - the man every wrestler in this Federation aside from Bobby Cairo failed to stop for over a year before I came along. It only took me five months to topple the hollow giant each and every one of you allowed him to become, and in place of him on the throne there sits the greatest WCF World Champion of all time.
I don’t beg for attention between every match on Slam like naive bitches expect a Champion to do. All I do is go out and dominate my opponent every time I step between the ropes. That’s what a true Champion does. So be my guest if you want to eat sour grapes like every other butt-hurt established guy I came in after and absolutely wrecked in the ring. I can’t help but laugh at that shit. I find it baffling...but then again, I’ve never convinced myself I was better than everyone else only to be proven otherwise time and again. Just look at their names, Joey - go down the roster and say them aloud...but make sure to save yours for last. That’s not to say you’re the best of the fallen...but you’re certainly the most deserving to be among their ranks.
And now you think you’re going to come along and dethrone me, even after seeing all the carnage I’ve left in my wake since January. I’d pity you if I didn’t want to see you broken for it.
Consider it done.
There’s a darkness inside everyone. You’ve summoned mine. Even if I find that those few I hold dear to my heart are safe from your ill-fated touch when I get home, you’ve awoken something deep within that can never be put back and sealed until I’ve been given the chance to let loose on you in the ring.
WAR, Joey - the last stop on what’s been a long and unpleasant ride since the springtime thaw. You’ve had your fun along the way...now it’s time I had mine. And wouldn’t you know it, the sort of fun I get off on as a grown man hasn’t changed since I was a child. While you were shoving G.I. Joe’s up your ass and running drugs for the mafia, I was honing the very skills that enabled me to ascend to the top of WCF Mountain faster than damn near anyone in this company’s great history; to reign from on high more convincingly than any other World Champion before me.
But the darkness is real, Joey, and the one that spreads through me is wrought of your trespasses. You ignored the parameters; you strayed too far from home.
You changed the game, Joey.
Now it’s my turn.
A long silence follows the words, and even in his hatred for Joey Flash, John Mullins sheds a tear as he contemplates Dune's words upon recalling the day of Joey’s wedding. The camera zooms out slowly before it fades into another.
The desert.
Of course. Where else?
But we’re not in the Mojave, or any other desert on Earth for that matter.
Dune walks toward the horizon, though a change has overcome him. The mask we’ve come to associate with him is gone, and in its place is a smooth, unblemished jawline. He’s not entirely unbearable to look upon without the butchered flesh that’s always made him so. In fact he’s quite handsome...but his looks won’t serve him here.
Why?
Because he’s utterly alone - trapped in an infinitely small pocket of his own mind…
Trapped in the void by the Jackal.
“He penetrates the mind, Dune. Then he takes the body.”
The WCF World Champion continues to walk atop the seemingly endless sands, knowing that if he makes it to the horizon everything will be fixed...but such is the spell he’s under. For not only is he wholly unaware of what needs fixing, but he doesn’t even know himself. Nor is he aware of his memory lapse. He just walks...and walks...
We pan over to see he’s making no progress whatsoever. He’s merely walking in place, and as he strides on intently, we begin to zoom out...and out...until he becomes a mere speck atop an unbroken sea of golden sand. Still we zoom out, faster now, and darkness overtakes the sands before we pass through a gleaming, wet barrier.
It’s an eyeball, and the iris is icy blue.
It’s that of Dune, and soon his true face fills the screen. He reaches back and unclasps his mask, slowly revealing the gruesome scars beneath. A sinister smile creeps up his butchered cheeks. It’s a monstrous sight - one only the Jackal could conjure up - and he glares into the lens with devastation in mind as he speaks.
Dune: Here I come, Joey.
And we fade to black.
(OOC: Read Joey Flash’s 3rd WAR promo first to get the full effect!)
[/span][/div]
Koyaanisqatsi (ko-yaa-nis-katsi): Life in turmoil
“Day of wrath - that dreadful day - will bury the world in ashes.” - Dies Irae (Day of Wrath)
“Reduce it all to ash.” - Joey Flash
Dusk settles on an abandoned town in the middle of nowhere. It was once an army satellite-base for families during the days of nuclear-bomb testing in the Mojave, but the enormous magma basin that sits beneath it was already creeping toward the surface by the time it was completed. The locals call it Satan’s Maw, and it’s long been said that the bombs themselves triggered the upwelling magma that spills out as lava, which too, like man’s greatest folly, destroys everything in it’s path.
The shot fades to another. It’s Dune, though he walks down the main drag of the burned-down town without his mask. His face is difficult to behold even when drowned in shadow.
But while on the surface he may look the same, something has infiltrated his mind and taken over his body: the Jackal - another phenomenon born of the nuclear blasts...though born may not be the best wording. Awoken serves better, or perhaps summoned. Either way, the innate desire for chaos that reigns within man is what fuels this extra-dimensional being, and he seeks it out and causes it wherever he goes.
From within, the Jackal pulls the strings and slows Dune to a stop. He turns to face the lens as he speaks.
Dune: How are you, Joseph? The wedding must have taken a lot out of you - it certainly took a lot FROM you. And to have endured such tragedy with your long-dreamt-of World Title match less than a day away. Shame, isn't’ it?
The Jackal cracks a smile.
Dune: Don’t play the fool - you know who this is. I’m one you’ll never forget. You should have followed me when I offered you the chance in the desert. We could have ruined Dune together, and I could have left you alone for all-time. I could have given you the world, Joseph. Instead you chose death.
So I’ll ask again: how are you, Joseph - how you feeling?
I could come and find out if I wanted to. I could come and infiltrate that pathetic mind of yours and get a real feel for all the pain and anguish that’s surely got you crippled and in a corner by now. Or maybe you’re angry by now - like I sincerely hope you are. I hope you’re mad as hell at what happened on what should have been the best day of your life. You’ve got a fight on the horizon - the fight of your life - and you’ll need all the help you can get to survive it.
I’ll be at WAR too, just like I was at your wedding a week ago. What a lovely affair it was: the fire; the screams; the death. There’ll be more of the same tomorrow night in the ring. Had it only been you and Dune it may have been a lesser affair...but I’m going to help liven it up a bit. In this vessel, I have the most powerful fighter in the world. You claim to be quicker - more precise - but apparently you haven’t seen Dune move. And with me behind the controls, there’s no telling what sort of damage I can inflict on the twig of a man you are. The man who rose to the top of the WCF may have been unrivaled in talent and tenacity on his own, but now he’s got the ultimate P.E.D. on his side. Thankfully your filthy-rich boss doesn’t test for my kind.
But don’t worry. I won’t let Dune go unpunished. After all, he was anything but cooperative during the whole ordeal, aside from the very outset when I met him at the crossroads. It was just after he found Pinky and his unborn child dead by your hand...or so he was so eager to presume. And though he eventually caught on, there was nothing he could do to change your fate...much as he tried. And he did try, Joey - as fruitlessly as you tried to save his unborn child in the desert. If I had any compassion whatsoever it would have brought me to tears to see him in the aftermath...but in truth it only made me lust for more.
He might not fight you without my help, Joseph. In truth, I’ve broken him. Have I broken you?
If not, I will with this body in the ring. It’s gonna be a real back and forth battle that night. From the Champ to the Challenger I’ll shift, turning the tides of the match each time. You’ll never know you were capable of such carnage as when I’m controlling your otherwise ill-used machine. And while I’m laying into Dune as Joey Flash, I won’t have to wonder how you’re feeling; I’ll know. But then again, I already have a fairly good idea. It’s likely the same you felt when I took control of you in the desert:
Hollow.
Empty.
Alone.
Ring a bell, Joseph? Yeah - you know what I’m talking about.
You’re hollow inside just like your words. You’re empty of anything good aside from learned-compassion, which makes a fine enough substitute for the real thing...but only for so long. The so-called love you feel for others isn’t rooted in anything solid because you grew up without it. That’s why the saying “this too shall pass” will prove especially true for you after seeing with your own eyes what Dune did on your wedding day. And yet you’ve convinced yourself your heart isn’t empty and black, just like you’ve convinced yourself that you’re actually a better fighter than all the rest in your pathetic Federation.
You may have been alone your whole life, Joseph - even in the most crowded of rooms; the most crowded of cities - but you won’t be alone in the ring at WAR. I’ll be there...but you’ll find I give no quarter to those who’ve snubbed my gracious offer of partnership. I don’t extend my hand to many, and in turning it down you doomed yourself to a worse fate at WAR than the already brutal one you would have suffered otherwise.
I could have given you everything, Joseph - the World Title included. But you chose death. Dune delivered on that promise for me, so don’t expect any different when I promise that you won’t be walking away from WAR tomorrow night with the Title around your waist.
Besides...a bit of gold can’t save you now. WAR may be the end of your clumsy climb to the brink, but it’s not the end of the world. That, unfortunately, is a long ways off. But for you, it may as well be. Because I’ll always be here to watch over you, Joseph.
Always.
Dune’s voice cuts off as the Jackal stops speaking. His icy blue eyes smile atop his shredded lips, gleaming in the moonlight as he turns and walks off-screen. A bit of lava seeps to the surface in the distance, and we cut to it before zooming in on its fiery glow. When it fills the screen, the shot segues into another.
A low-burning ember is all we see. In zooming out slowly, a thin black line that marks its spherical boundary makes itself known. A column of smoke dances up from the ember, which comes to life as a surge of oxygen rushes through it. The background is dark and out of focus, and it remains ill-lit even when it begins to shift and come into view. A man hidden in shadow flicks at the cigarette now shown in full and exhales a cloud of smoke before we cut away.
Two men sit at a table. One we know: the Jackal - but the other is a stranger. He goes by Sam, and he takes another drag from his cigarette before he speaks.
Sam: It’s dirty.
Jackal: I didn’t say it’d be clean.
Sam: It’s her wedding for fuck’s sake.
Jackal: And the entire Allegri family will be there to see Alessandra wed Joey Malignaggi - your primary target, the boss Bernardo, included. The big daddy, so to speak.
The Jackal winks his way, then turns to a corner out of the shot to make sure everything’s still in order. It is, and he turns back to Sam.
Sam: Why should I allow some schlub to manipulate the chessboard like this. The balance of power is fragile. The Allegri’s may be the top family in Sicily right now, but say you help me take them out - what are you gonna want down the line when I’m running the show?
Jackal: Nothing. My client only wants one thing, and he’ll have it before night falls on the day of the wedding.
Sam: I don’t believe you.
Jackal: Oh come now, you’re being paranoid. Are you saying no to the opportunity to become the most powerful man in Italy; to becoming even more exorbitantly rich than you already are today? We’re talking hundreds of millions of dollars for you LITERALLY overnight...and the power. Just think of it, “Sam.”
The Jackal smiles, knowing full well his true identity. “Sam” remains silent, and the Jackal speaks up as he assesses his commitment to the hit.
Jackal: Power isn’t given, Sam. It’s taken.
Sam: Alright, well what’s in it for you then, Jack? I mean...who are you besides a guy with a lot of money to spare up front?
Jackal: I am no one. I merely represent my client.
He turns his focus to the man sitting off screen.
Jackal: And I think you can guess what he’s after.
Sam: I don’t know. I’m not convinced the time is right...
Jackal: I know what’s holding you up: the thought of the repercussions. But if we do this right - and believe me, we will - there won’t be anyone of significance left in the Allegri family to come after you and yours. You’ll be able to plug yourself into the top spot and run the business as you see fit without fear or worry of retaliation. Take the power, Sam. Do the right thing here.
After a moment of hesitation, he answers.
Sam: GodDAMN it’s dirty...but I’m in. So long as you promise my anonymity should things go south with your client.
Jackal: Of course...but don’t expect any hitches to go off. When it comes to killers, none are so efficient and calculated as him.
The Jackal smiles as he holds out his hand. The two shake and rise from their chairs. In the light, we see “Sam’s” face for the first time. It’s handsome and vaguely familiar, and his tall, thin frame adds to his almost feminine appeal.
His name is Paolo Allegri - future brother-in-law of Joey Malignaggi and son of Bernardo Allegri, the boss of the most powerful crime family in Sicily.
Jackal: See? That wasn’t so hard. I knew it wouldn’t take long for you to see reason.
Paolo: What about HIM?
He once more turns his attention off-screen.
Jackal: What ABOUT him?
Paolo: What’s he gonna do?
Jackal: Don’t worry about the finer details. He’s been killing all his life; it’s what he does best. He’ll take care of your father, but like you there’s one he targets above all others:
The Jackal turns and looks over his shoulder before we cut to a dark corner where their sightlines meet. There, the WCF World Champion sits in a wooden chair, apparently unconscious as his half-masked face rests atop the shelf his massive chest provides.
Jackal: Joey Flash.
Paolo: What’s he - asleep or something?
Jackal: Or something.
The two stare at each other. It doesn’t take long for the Jackal’s gaze to make Paolo feel incredibly ill at ease. He looks away just in time to see Dune twitch in his chair, and the Jackal turns to see him do it again. He glares at the sight before continuing.
Jackal: Then it’s a deal, Sam. From here, my client will take over, and from him you can expect nothing less than flawless execution. But I’m afraid for now you should be going. He’s been under constant strain of late, and when he comes to I can’t guarantee he’ll be in a welcoming mood. It’s Flash you see...he murdered his unborn child.
Says the man who murdered Dune’s unborn child. Though Paolo is none the wiser. The Jackal ushers him out of the room, then turns toward Dune as the door closes behind him. The WCF World Champion trembles in his chair as the Jackal’s form begins to fade. He closes the gap between them, and just as Dune’s eyes flick open, he utters three words.
Jackal: Let me in.
His ethereal form melts into Dune’s, and an internal struggle ensues. We zoom in on one of his agony-laced eyes at an exponentially faster rate until finally the darkness at the center overcomes the screen.
Dune comes to as the otherworldly pain subsides, though light doesn’t greet his frame of vision. In fact he has no eyes to see; no hands to feel his body and assure it’s there. He has a voice though, if only audible to his possessor.
Dune: You can’t keep this game up forever, you know.
Jackal: Why not?
Dune: Because I know how to win, and as soon as that happens - game over.
Jackal: Shh...you can’t win.
Dune isn’t panicked. He knows what’s happened: yet again he’s proven incapable of stopping the Jackal from invading his mind and overtaking his body. And so the WCF World Champion is bound within once more.
He lost himself the first time - forgot who he was entirely as he walked in place on the sands for what seemed like an eternity - but finally a spark ignited to reveal a glimpse of the horrible reality that had befallen him. In a flash he had remembered everything with crystal-clear clarity: Joey Flash in the desert; the Jackal intercepting them both for the same purpose - the destruction of the other. Flash refused, yet when the Jackal convinced Dune that Joey was guilty of murdering his unborn child, Dune accepted.
But as Dune’s murderous rage became a slightly more rational one, he began to question the Jackal’s intentions. In turn he was shown false visions that convinced him of Flash’s guilt, but soon the Jackal showed him true ones; ones that showed the Jackal possessing the outlaw who butchered Dune’s face and proceeded to murder his brother long ago, and Dune realized he’d made a terrible mistake in aligning himself with the Jackal. He fled, but he didn’t get far before his mind was infiltrated for the first time.
“Let me in.”
And he was trapped inside...as he is now. Here he has no concept of time. Here there is nothing aside from his thoughts, as if he were some god in a void awaiting creation.
Dune: Let me out.
Jackal: I will, but not yet. Only when the time is right.
Dune: And when’s that? What the fuck are you planning?!
Jackal: Blood;vengeance;death - my part of the deal. Yours was simply to let me in, which you’ve been so gracious about. I’d feel awful if I didn’t deliver upon what you’d asked of me in the desert.
Dune: Leave Joey Flash out of this!
Jackal: Far too late for that, I’m afraid.
Dune isn’t lost inside his mind though - not anymore. Freed of having to focus his consciousness on the outside world, he soon found that here, every thought or experience was instantly accessible. Now he travels far back in time before a voice rings out in the void. It’s one he’s heard before, but only as an infant.
Mother: Daniel...Daniel…
Her maternal chords are ingrained in his mind, and he accesses them at will. It’s as if she’s right beside him as she repeats the name given to him at birth. Her voice soothes his troubles, though he doesn’t linger long. He has one goal: to break free, and the words of John Mullins are all he has to go on.
“I’ve been inside his mind, and the only way to beat him is at his own game.”
Jackal: Don’t even try it. You won’t like what you find there - believe me.
But at that moment he breaks through to the Jackal’s mind...and in it nothing is withheld from him. Most of the information is either useless or far beyond a human level of understanding, though he learns a bitter truth that stabs at his insides and brings him to knees that aren’t there. In seeing the Jackal murder his unborn child - in seeing Joey Flash try his damndest to save Pinky in the aftermath - he retreats out of the Jackal’s mind.
Jackal: I warned you.
Dune is speechless with horrible realization. The Jackal smiles from without before speaking to his vessel within.
Jackal: Don’t let your temporary blindness at the crossroads get you down. I often have that effect on people. You’re all so weak - so easily manipulated - from embryo to death…
Dune: Shut the fuck up.
Jackal: I didn’t want to kill him, Dune. And it was a “he”, for what it’s worth. He would’ve been special, just like his father. I felt as much as the life drained out of him along with the blood that drained from his mother’s womb.
Dune: SHUT THE FUCK UP!
Silence. A few seconds of it pass...or perhaps a lifetime. Dune can’t tell. From the void, he gathers his thoughts on Joey Flash, realizing the extreme error of his ways, and in the darkness his voice rings out.
Dune: Joey...can you hear me? I doubt you can, but if the Jackal’s words of, “Let me in,” have formed some sort of communicative-wormhole between us, and you can even sense the severity of this message, don’t fail to heed it’s warning. He’s coming, Joey. I don’t know what he plans to do, but I can assure you it’s far worse than anything you or I could imagine.
I’m not a god-fearing man. I don’t believe in that bullshit. But this whole experience is making me reconsider everything. If there is a god up there, I pray he watches over you in the coming hours. I’m the only other who knows the Jackal has you in his sights, and I’m going to do everything I can to stop him. Still - you’re not safe, Joey. Neither is your family. He mentioned your wedding before he took over.
Call it off.
Can you fucking hear me, Joey? Call it off!
He’s coming, and it’s under the ruse of reaping vengeance from you in my name that he closes on you and yours as I speak. It’s blood he wants; it’s death.
Maybe it’s too late already. Maybe he’s ruined your wedding day in whichever way he’s seen fit. If so, I hope you’re alright, Joey, even though you’ve been nothing but a straight razor through my cockhead since April. But I can forgive you of everything in light of what’s happened...
I haven’t seen her since the day you tried to save her. Thank you, Joey. I saw what you did, and I can never thank you enough. Though I don’t hope to remain in your debt forever. I’m going to get out of here - break free of these binds. I don’t know how I’m going to do it. I’m told there’s only one way out: through the mind of the Jackal.
But know this, Joey: to save you - to save the ones you love - I’d swim through any waters, dark and deep as they may be. I’d do anything to keep him from you, and if I have to sacrifice myself to do so, I’d gladly end it all.
He’s coming, Joey...but I won’t let him get to you.
I promise.
Silence once more. It continues for a few seconds, and it fades into delicate music as the darkness breaks.
Maurice Ravel’s “Pavane pour une infante defunte” plays in the background as we open on St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York City. What appears to be a joyous affair is brought down by the somber tones of the tune, though the herd of people filtering into the church don’t seem to hear it. They hug and laugh and make their way inside, where the wedding of Joseph Malignaggi and Alessandre Allegri is set to take place.
We cut to an elderly gentlemen as he makes his way up the cathedral steps. It’s Bernardo Allegri - the most powerful man in Sicily and Joey’s soon-to-be father-in-law. He walks beside his beautiful wife, almost the spitting image of her daughter, even now. She has no idea that these are the last moments she’ll be spending with her beloved husband as they make their way beneath the great doors.
Within is a who’s-who of powerful crime-family members of every variety. Loyalties to the Sicilian Allegri’s are set aside for a few hours as they all gather to celebrate the wedding of the boss’ daughter.
Bernardo speaks with a few other high ranking crimelords when a young boy stumbles into the circle and hugs at his knee.
Christian Malignaggi: Found you!
Bernardo Allegri: You sure did!
He bends down and picks the young boy up as his nanny for the day runs over.
Nanny: I’m so sorry, Mr. Allegri.
Bernardo Allegri: For what? There’s no one I’d rather see at this moment or any other than this young man. Gentlemen, meet my grandson, Christian Malignaggi.
Each man laughs and shakes the four year old son of Joey Flash’s hand as we pan away. We leave the crowd and enter the cathedral’s main hall. It’s architectural beauty is profound, and we lift up toward the marvelous ceiling before a thin balcony hidden in shadow comes into view. Two men sit atop it. One is the Jackal as we’ve come to know him; the other wears a dark hood that covers his face. His identity remains a mystery until he speaks.
Dune: You can’t do this.
He looks up at the Jackal, revealing his butchered, unmasked face.
Jackal: I can, and I will.
Dune tries to move, but he remains frozen as he’d been since waking up here hours before.
Jackal: Let this be a lesson to you: never make promises you can’t keep. You can’t stop what’s going to happen in the next few hours; you can’t save Joey Flash from his fate...or yours, for that matter.
Dune: HEL-
The Jackal’s face goes sour as he silences Dune’s attempt to rouse the attention of somebody - anybody - though the echo dies unheard. The Jackal stands and creeps toward Dune.
Jackal: What’d I say? Obey me. You don’t do such a good job of that.
Paralyzed completely now, Dune’s wrath has nowhere to displace itself. Still the Jackal closes.
Jackal: I gave you a chance. I allowed you to have your body and mind back. But you can’t follow the simplest instruction. You’re a bit too wilful for my liking, and I’m afraid I’ll have to correct you before it gets out of hand. Now let me in.
Blackness overtakes the screen, but it doesn’t last long.
Music fades in once more, though instead of a song of death, we hear the familiar tones of “Here comes the bride.” The stunning Alessandre Allegri walks toward Joseph Malignaggi, who stands humbled by her presence upon the alter.
We cut to a shot of what Joey sees: his beautiful wife coming toward him; his four year old son smiling on...though what he doesn’t see is the shadow up high in the rafters. We begin to zoom in on it, and as the crowd of mafia crime lords and their not-so innocent loved ones falls below the frame, the figure comes into view. It’s the WCF World Champion, and he looks down on the wedding wearing a sinister expression he’s never donned before.
But that’s because this isn’t Dune; it’s the Jackal. And now, for the first time, he’s allowing his vessel to see what he sees while possessing his body.
Dune stares out through his own eyes, powerless to move his body as the Jackal projects his voice inward.
Jackal: Ah, you’re awake. Took longer this time. You’ll be glad to hear the explosives are triggered and the gunmen are ready.
Dune takes in the crowd below as he tries to make sense of the situation.
Dune: God damn you! Stop this! This isn’t what I called for in the desert! This isn’t what I wanted!
Jackal: It’s what you’ll get.
Dune: Joey! JOEY!!
Jackal: He can’t hear you. No one can.
Dune looks down at his long time rival, seen now in a different light. He’s gone from a man he wanted simply to pin in the ring, to a man he wanted to murder for killing his unborn child, to a man he wanted nothing more than to aid in this desperate hour. But again, as before in another desperate hour long ago, he remains bound and powerless to act.
Dune: Take me instead! What’s one life for another? Joey has a family - a child! He -
He cuts off, and the Jackal laughs in understanding.
Jackal: A child he has, indeed.
Dune: No. Please, no.
Jackal: Shh...they’re about to say their vows.
Dune: Not him too. Leave him out of this! Take me god damnit! Take me - not his child!
Jackal: Christian’s his name. But don’t worry - I’ll introduce you to him soon enough. Quiet, the time is almost here.
Dune: You’ve murdered one child already! You slaughtered my unborn son - wasn’t that enough?!
Jackal: Eye for an eye; tooth for a tooth. I have to maintain the balance, Daniel. And after I’ve broken the both of you, we’ll go to WAR in the ring. There you can explain to Flash how you murdered his child. Are you up for it? Because unlike you, he won’t find out the truth. I’m going to make damn sure he sees the man who reduced his world to ash in a single moment.
Dune: NO! GODDAMNIT NO!
Jackal: And that man is you.
Dune: NOOOO -
His voice cuts off as the Jackal begins a countdown.
Jackal: 5...4...3...2…1…
Dune’s shredded lips curl into a smile as the priest utters the words the Jackal has awaited.
Priest: If anyone knows why these two should not be wed in holy matrimony speak now or forever hold your peace.
KABOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The blissful existence four year old Christian Malignaggi has known since birth comes crashing down along with the walls of the St. Patrick’s Cathedral. Frightened unlike any other in the room, the child frantically seeks out his parents in the smoke and fire that follows. He becomes dizzy and scared unlike ever before, and he chooses a direction and begins running.
But he doesn’t make it far before a friendly voice speaks up behind him.
Jackal: My boy, over here!
Gunfire rings out along with screams. In the panic, the boy turns to see the Jackal standing about ten yards away in his grey suit, clean as ever despite the dust and ash that covers everything else. He walks toward the child, exuding an angelic glow. None seem to see him, which doesn’t register as being strange in the child’s eyes. Fear has taken him, and here is someone he could trust.
The Jackal reaches Christian and kneels down, smiling as he speaks.
Jackal: Hi.
Christian Malignaggi: Where’s daddy?
Jackal: Gone!
He says it with a smile, though it fades as his face becomes something black and inhuman along with his voice.
Jackal: Gone forever!
Christian screams in a fear few people have been unfortunate enough to experience, and the now-monstrous Jackal pulls him close before uttering three words in a demonic, multi-toned voice.
Jackal: Let me in!
Christian’s screams are silenced as we cut to black.
Dune’s eyes open on the cathedral’s precipice. Fire rages all around, and black smoke fills the hall... but that’s not what draws his attention. Young Christian Malignaggi stands before him, and the fear in the boy’s eyes nearly makes Dune’s heart break
Dune: Hi, Christian. I know who you are. I’m going to help you, okay?
Christian Malignaggi: Daddy! Mommy!
He cries as Dune drops his hood. Up til now the boy had been told monsters weren’t real, but the disfigured face of the man who towers before him amidst the flames convinces him otherwise.
Dune: I know your father, Christian. He’s a good man, and he’s down there somewhere. Take my hand and we’ll go find him, what do you say?
But the child backs away.
Dune: I know my face is ugly, Christian, but I promise you can trust me. I won’t let anything happen to you. But you’ve got to take my hand - it’s very dangerous up here.
Dune reaches out his arm, but again the child backs away. This time he’s run out of room though, and his back foot scrapes over the ledge before Dune shoots toward him. He grabs his arm just in time, pulling him back in as Christian screams and struggles to break free.
Dune: It’s okay - it’s okay…
But the child’s eyes go wide as he sees the man from before - the one whose face had turned black before taking over his body.
The Jackal stands behind Dune, who turns just in time to see him disappear.
Pain shoots through him, and though he fights with all his will, the Jackal takes over once more. He walks toward Christian Malignaggi, who cries to see the Jackal disappear and a change come over Dune. The Jackal speaks through Dune as he nears.
Jackal: How’d you like to get down from here, Christian?
Dune rages silently from within.
Dune: Leave him alone!
Jackal: You want to see your father, do you?
The boy’s face changes at the word, and he stops crying.
Jackal: He’s down there, you know. Right there...see?
Dune points below, where we see Joseph Malignaggi run into the frame. The boy’s eyes go wide in seeing his father.
Christian: Daddy! Daddy!
The Jackal turns the expression on Dune’s face to one of pure evil as he closes on the boy in a flash. He grabs him by the arm, yanking him up as the boy’s calls for his father become screams of fear and confusion. The Jackal calls out in Dune’s voice.
Jackal: Daddy! Daddy!
Dune: Put him down goddamnit! Please, my god please!
Jackal: Can’t you see us, Joseph? Just look at us now!
The words of Freeman replay in Dune’s mind. “Something terrible is going to happen, Dune. But I don’t know what, or to whom.” Dune looks through eyes that aren’t his own at Christian Malignaggi, and he knows…
But it’s too late.
With the child writhing in his arms, Dune steps toward the brink and calls out in hatred to the man below.
Jackal: Joey!
Dune: Please! PLEASE!
From the ground, Joseph Malignaggi looks up in horror. There, Dune holds his child out over the edge. The fires show him in a demonic light, and a darkness pervades his presence as he lifts the child up over his head.
Jackal: For the sins of the father!
Dune: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
His eyes go wide, reflecting the flames before he arches back…
Joey watches Dune lob his son off the precipice. His fall is long and seems to last forever...if only that were the case.
SMACK.
We cut to Dune as the chill of death shoots up and down his spine. He’s regained possession of his body, and he falls to his knees to see Christian Malignaggi splayed out on the ground far below. His heart shatters over and over and over again as an agonizing darkness floods in.
Dune: NOOOOOOO!
His screams are audible now. Tears fill his eyes and a world-ending grief overcomes him. He watches as Joey kneels next to his son, and he reaches out to them both as if it might somehow help. But it won’t, and he knows it. Nothing can absolve him of this, and an infernal wrath surges through him as he turns at the sound of a voice.
Jackal: We’d better get out of here.
Dune charges the Jackal, grabbing hold of his throat with force that would otherwise crush a man’s windpipe, though it has no effect on him.
Dune: You killed him! My god you fucking killed him!
Jackal: No - you killed him. Joey Flash saw it with his own eyes. He’s on his way up now, and I don’t think he’s in the mood for explanations...much like you weren’t when we met at the crossroads and struck this deal. Blood; vengeance...death. I’ve just delivered on my part...
Dune lunges at the Jackal, but to no avail.
Jackal: So let me in.
And as he takes possession of Dune’s mind once more, the screen cuts to black.
We fade in where we started: at the place called Satan’s Maw on the night before WAR. It’s been a week since the Jackal had used Dune’s body to murder Christian Malignaggi. The moon lights up Dune’s icy blue eyes as the Jackal speaks through him, continuing where he left off earlier.
Dune: Christian Malignaggi - Rest in Peace.
A smile comes over his face.
Dune: You thought I was going to let you off easy, didn’t you, Joseph? I offered you the world, but instead you chose death. I’m not one to let a man die without suffering a bit, and what better way for man to suffer than by allowing him the opportunity to bury his own son? Shame your similarly-childless pal Dune won’t get the opportunity to bury the fetus that was growing inside Pinky when the three of us has our little meet and greet in the desert.
He was so convinced you did it, Joey. And when he finally learned the truth...what a beautiful feeling it was. I was in control of him by then, just like I’ll be in control of him tomorrow night. But don’t worry. I’ll allow you and Dune a proper hello before I step in.
He’s changed...I can feel it as I speak. That’s not to say he won’t protect himself from your onslaught, which you’re sure to bring. Dune murdered your son, Joseph - of course you’ll bring it. You want to kill him now, just as he wanted to kill you. But don’t listen to his pleas. Don’t allow him to get inside your head. Kill him, Joseph - if you can. Kill him just like he killed your four year old son. Let the thought of poor Christian broken at your feet fuel the fire that burns within. If that doesn’t give you enough might to bring Dune to his knees, nothing will, and you’ll have proven yourself unworthy of the pathetic World Title he wears.
I won’t allow you to walk out of there on your own accord. You’ll lie broken beside Dune. Do you truly covet the World Title now, Joseph? Do you truly want nothing more than to say you’re the greatest fighter in the world? No. You want much more than that. You want your son back...but he’s gone forever. You can never have him back, and so the only thing you can do is cling to your hatred and attempt to dismantle the World Champion and murderer of your beloved…
The Jackal continues to talk through Dune, but his voice fades as we zoom in on his unmasked face. When darkness overtakes the screen, we can hear his voice no more.
A few seconds pass before a light appears in the darkness, and there stands the WCF World Champion as we’ve come to know him. He exists only in his mind now, though we see him all the same. Darkness surrounds him, and we zoom in on his half-masked face as he speaks.
Dune: Joey - my god, Joey...
I couldn’t break free in time. I couldn’t stop him. I tried, but he was too strong...
I don’t know what he has planned, but I can guess, and I can also say without a doubt that he’s not done with either of us. WAR - it’s where he wants to break us...and it has me fearing the worst.
Take no mercy on me there, Joey. I doubt you would anyway. I wouldn’t have on you before I learned the truth - that you didn’t kill my son. Should you come to your senses and realize I’d never harm a hair on a child’s head, let alone murder one, then perhaps WAR won’t be the murderous bloodbath the Jackal expects it to be. It’s what the WCF Faithful want too. They’ll be salivating like Pavlov’s dogs at the sound of the opening bell. They’ve been waiting months for me to finally get my hands on you and tear you to pieces before pinning you and retaining my World Title. I’ve been waiting with them...but everything changed that day in the desert.
You were there, Joey - don’t deny it. You know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about.
I’ve never killed anyone who didn’t have it coming. Can you think of anyone you’ve met recently who would kill someone as innocent as Christian? As innocent as my unborn son?! Don’t let your anger blind you, Joey! You’ve seen what the Jackal can do! You watched him kill my son just as you watched him kill yours! I was trapped inside - locked away and powerless to stop him. You have to believe me, Joey! You have to believe me…
But I ask you show no mercy on me all the same. What I’ve been through this past week has nearly vanquished me, Joey. I’m no less the fighter that’s made me the most dominant force in this business, but the Jackal has done everything in his power to break me. He hasn’t yet, but in his eyes that’s what WAR is for. And should you find me in a similarly vanquished state in the ring after he’s paralyzed me and allowed you to pummel me to your heart’s content, I’ll still ask no quarter of you...but know that I’ll provide none for you in return.
The position I find myself in is a difficult one. In light of what’s happened, I could choose not to fight back and give in to death. But in my case, Bill Shakespeare said it best:
“To die, to sleep; to sleep, perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub. For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil must give us pause.”
And pause is exactly what I feel when I consider showing you mercy, Joey. Were this last Sunday, mere hours after my vicarious murder of your son due entirely to the Jackal, I surely would have lied down and let your fatherly rage do its worst...but time doesn’t stand still, and life goes on.
If you won’t see reason - if you refuse to acknowledge my innocence regarding the death of your son - I’ll have no choice but to put an end to this in the ring, where it all began. I’m not going to lay down. That’s not what World Champions do. You still want to be the best, Joey? Well you’ve got to beat me first. Had your son not been murdered in front of your eyes by a man you presume to have been me, there’s no fucking way you would have been able to come anywhere near to defeating me at WAR. Now that the Jackal has ravaged you as he did me though, it’ll make for a much more interesting affair.
Don’t blame me for your losses on the road to WAR, Joey, great as they may be. You know better...or so I would think. But as far as the match itself - the fight that’s been brewing since the spring - that’s a loss you’ll have the distinct displeasure of chalking up to me for all-time...and for it, I’ll take full responsibility.
We begin to zoom out, and before long he’s nothing more than a speck in a sea of darkness. Finally we find ourselves back in the Maw, where the Jackal looks out through the icy blue eyes of Dune. The WCF World Champion turns and exits the frame before the screen fades to black.
(4:00 > )
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.
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.
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?”
BING BANG BOOM THE TIME MACHINE FROM THE BEGINNING HAS BECOME RELEVANT TO THE STORY AS GOD KING DUNE TRAVELS BACK IN TIME
2019 Dune transports into 2015 Dune. He examines himself and his surrounding in disbelief. After a moment's pause, his icy blue eyes flick up at the screen.
God King Dune: It doesn't end, Joey. Not even now. Not the memories anyway. They'll live on with us forever, and I'll cherish them always.
God King Dune transports back to 2019 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 only the coming night in his wake.
The arena lights dim as a video starts to play on the jumbotron. It’s a wide shot of a vast stretch of barren desert and rolling dunes. Dark, ominous clouds loom overhead, yet as the camera pans slowly across the horizon, the screen flickers with another image: the face of Joey Flash in black and white. It’s gone in a millisecond, though after a few seconds of scanning the dunes, it happens again..and again a few seconds later. When it happens a fourth time, the shot doesn’t revert back to the desert. Flash’s face remains on the screen, and colors rush in to fill the greys as his still image comes to life.
A smile comes over his lips, and his deep blue eyes redden before his face begins to melt away in favor of another that lies beneath it - that of the WCF World Champion, Dune. His icy blue eyes stare through the screen, and we zoom in on them until the screen bursts into flames. Finally, from the depths, three black letters rise:
WAR
The shot fades to darkness, and the arena is silent as the voice of Joey Flash rings out.
Joey Flash: How’s this gonna end?
Hans Zimmer’s “Time” begins its slow ascent as a fast-paced series of still-frame images flicker across the screen. Joey Flash is the centerpiece, and we see him in the early days of his career, first holding up the TV Tile in only his second match, then defeating man after man until his legendary bout with Occulo, which ended with his arm being raised in victory.
The shot then fades to Dune, who would make his WCF debut on the very next program. He steps out from behind the curtain, and the camera pans around him slowly as the packed arena shows little excitement upon getting their first glimpse of him. A montage of Crucifix Powerbombs later, and Dune steps out onto the stage prior to his bout with Alex Richards in the Trilogy Cup to a packed house that goes visibly ape shit at the sight of him, though the rising of the music is all we hear.
The shot fades to Joey Flash once more, shaking hands with the Vapor Kings as he joins their ranks. It only lasts for a moment before fading into Dune charging the ring weeks later in slow motion. He slides in as Flash slides out, and he and the Vapor Kings flee as Dune stands over the fallen Occulo, lending a hand for support. We cut to Joey Flash, who eyes Dune from the ramp with scorn before we cut away.
“Time” continues to build as a montage of the Trilogy Cup unfolds while Joey Flash watches from the locker room. By the time the finals roll around, the unforgettable image of Joey’s interference that fateful night flashes on the screen once more. After smacking Jay Omega with a steel chair, Dune and Flash share a look of pure hatred in the aftermath of what truly started it all.
Flash and Dune go at it in super slow motion in the Trios Tournament, their first and only time doing battle in the ring against one another. It fades to a shot of Dune wrenching a chair away from ICE Beckman and smashing it over the then-Champion’s face, losing his team the bout. Flash smiles at Dune from the ramp, though it fades as he looks at Beckman and considers his chances of retaining the Title in a few weeks.
We fade onto Joey Flash in the locker room at Asesinato de Mayo. He watches a TV screen that displays ICE in the last few seconds of his second World Title reign. We zoom in on the TV before going through to the action live in the ring. Beckman claws at Dune’s mask before the soon to be Champion smashes him to the mat and tears his mask off, revealing his face before Sandstorming Beckman and pinning him for three. The shot fades as the newly crowned WCF World Champion shoots his arm up, holding the belt high for all to see.
Now the music has found its legs, and the montage begins to quicken. Dune continues his streak of dominance, much like the one Joey Flash had enjoyed for so long. Meanwhile Flash’s hatred for Dune grows as he watches him succeed and steal the limelight. He watches with laughter to see Occulo’s own father put him out of commission, knocking out ⅓ of the Sentinels. But he doesn’t stop there, as the clips of Howard Black that begin to roll across the screen remind us.
We cut backstage to see Flash slap the shit out of Dune, which fades into a shot of Flash provoking Dune to come find him the next week. A metal pipe cracks across Dune’s head when he finds him before the shot fades to Black.
Howard Black. His screams are silent but his agony is apparent as a super slow motion shot pans over to show Joey Flash wrenching away at his arm as Dune looks on from the ramp. Suddenly, the brittle bones beneath his soft flesh snap and begin to break through the skin, and the speed of the shot returns to normal speed as Dune charges the ring, narrowly missing Flash before getting blindsided by Fly. The next image shows Dune lifting his fallen Sentinel-brother off the mat, and the next shows him halfway up the ramp. In the final image, the Sentinels are gone.
The shot cuts to darkness as the music falls off a great peak, though it doesn’t end there. The sounds persist, and soon so too does the image.
We open back on the rolling dunes that stretch to the horizon. Panning over, we hear the voice of Joey Flash once more.
Joey Flash: How’s this gonna end?
As the camera pans over, a highway comes into view just before a closeup shot of his face overtakes the screen, though it’s not the devilishly handsome one we’ve come to know. His eyes gleam red, and he dons the mask of his arch nemesis, Dune. The shot goes empty of all color aside from Joey’s red, gleaming eyes as a whisper fills the arena.
Joey Flash: Reduce it all to ash.
The music continues to die out as the image of Flash freezes on screen. Above him, the words “Wrestling Championship Federation” appear. Below him, “9-27-15” fades in before the final addition of “WAR” caps off the unforgettable shot.
As the music dies, the screen fades to black.
Face to Face
We open on a wide shot of the town outside the radio station. Part of the broadcast tower juts into the frame, and smoke from the molten fire that’s been dragged up from miles beneath the crust drifts about the neatly placed buildings. All life has vanished from this once quaint satellite town of the U.S. Army...that is, except for Dune and Freeman, who stand next to Freeman’s buggy and look out over the hellish sight from a hill just above the radio station.
The two remain silent, and Freeman continues to stare out intently as Dune turns toward him.
Dune: Why’d you bring me out here, Freeman?
The old man doesn’t take his eyes off the town in the distance.
Freeman: Months ago I had a vision of this place. Not a subconscious dream, mind you. This was a vision, and I was wide awake when it came to me. I saw -
His lip quivers, and he furrows his brow before he turns to Dune.
Freeman: Something terrible is going to happen before War…but I don’t know what, or to whom.
Dune: What do you mean?
Freeman: I...I don’t know, Dune. I don’t know...
Dune: What’d you see out here? Tell me, Freeman.
Freeman turns away from the smouldering town and gets back in the dune buggy. Dune watches him in confusion before following suit. Once inside, Freeman takes off in the direction of home.
Several minutes of silence pass before Dune looks out and sees something in the distance. He shields the sun from his eyes, but still it’s too far away to make out - though it appears to be a person. He reaches down and grabs a pair of binoculars, causing Freeman to look out and see the figure too. Dune puts them up to his eyes.
Dune: Freeman…
He hands him the binoculars and takes the wheel, turning it gently toward the man in the distance. Freeman finally breaks his silence.
Freeman: Is that -
Dune: Yeah. It is.
He hands them back to Dune and takes back the wheel, a look of wild, excited astonishment on his face as he steps on the gas.
The man drops down to a knee as they draw near. A white cloth covers his head, but aside from that he appears entirely out of his element in this extreme environment. A look of exhaustion on his face becomes one of horror as Dune and Freeman step out of the buggy and approach. He wipes the sweat from his brow, simultaneously donning a mask of false calm. He greets them in an all too familiar voice.
Man: Hello.
Dune steps forward, staring deep into the eyes of one Joey Flash. He cracks a smile beneath his mask at his luck.
Dune: Welcome to Hell.
And as the two archenemies come face to face in the desert, the screen cuts to black.
Hot Flash
Dune: Welcome to Hell.
Darkness gives way in the blink of an eye, but it’s not the WCF World Champion we see. Another man stands before us, and his deep blue eyes crack a smile along with his lips. He chuckles before looking down at his feet. Wiping the incessant beads of sweat from his brow, he cocks his head up at Dune, one eye closed to blot out the sun.
Joey Flash: And what’s that make you?
Dune closes the gap between them, coming to within a few feet of Flash. To his surprise, Joey doesn’t retreat.
Dune: I’m no mirage, I’ll tell you that.
Joey Flash: Yeah? Prove i-
CRACK
Dune’s eyes light up just before he slaps the shit out of Joey, the force of which brings the already exhausted Flash to a knee. He wipes away a touch of blood before slowly getting back to his feet. He turns to Dune.
Joey Flash: I probably deserved th-
Dune false-charges Joey, who flinches and backpedals in retreat before he realizes the attack isn’t coming. Dune chuckles at the sight.
Dune: What are you doing out here so far from home, Joey?
Joey Flash: I...I need -
His eyes flutter as he loses his balance, regaining it before he falls to the ground. Dune turns to Freeman, and they share an amused look before turning back to Flash.
Dune: You’re not looking so hot.
Joey Flash: No..no...I…
His eyes roll back into his head as he collapses in a heap. Dune stares at him for a few seconds before turning to Freeman, who walks up beside him.
Freeman: Give me one reason we shouldn’t leave him here to rot.
Dune’s eyes never leave the downed Joey Flash.
Dune: War.
Freeman nods his head.
Freeman: I’ll get his arms.
The two of them load Flash into the buggy before taking off in the direction of Dune’s canyonside abode.
We cut to a shot of Freeman and Dune riding in the front seat. It pans over to show the limp-bodied Joey Flash sitting in the rear. He’s still for a moment...until he opens an eye, and the whisper of a smile touches the corner of his lips as he stares at the back of the WCF World Champion’s head. As his eyelid closes, the screen cuts to black.
The Enemy Within
Freeman pulls into a shaded horseshoe canyon and heads for a boulder near the back wall. He slows to a stop behind it and puts the buggy in neutral before shutting off the engine. He turns to Dune, who sits beside him.
Freeman: You take Flash; I’ll cover the buggy.
Dune nods, and they both turn back to see Joey Flash still passed out - or rather, playing possum - in the backseat. It isn’t until Dune steps out and grabs hold of Flash with his powerful paws that he begins to act as though he’s snapping out of it.
Joey Flash: Wh-where am I…
His eyes open, and upon seeing Dune he draws back in feigned surprise. Dune stands up straight and backs away.
Dune: Good, you’re awake. Let’s go.
Joey Flash: Where are you taking me?
Dune: You like AC?
Joey Flash: ...yeah…
Dune: Well get the fuck out or I’ll leave you stranded out here in the heat.
He backs out the other side, never taking his eyes off Dune before he backs into Freeman.
Freeman: Watch it, kid.
Flash bites his tongue as the old man covers the buggy with a tan tarp. His eyes flick back to Dune, whose icy blue ones greet him with an uncomfortable intensity. He nods toward the rock wall.
Dune: Follow me
Freeman brings up the rear as the three of them make their way toward the entrance of Dune’s home in the canyonside. He motions for Joey to turn around when they reach the wall, and he and Freeman lock eyes as Dune draws out a keypad and enters the code. After a moment a large boulder slides over, revealing its steel backing and a long, dark corridor within. Flash turns at the sound, and his mouth stands agape as he looks inside.
Joey Flash: Fuck this...I’m not going in there. Leave me out here. I’ll find my way home.
But Freeman gives him a shove, and Dune grabs him by the collar.
Dune: Too late.
He drags Joey inside, though in crossing the entranceway the lights turn on, which helps to put his mind at ease...that is, until a dark figure appears at the end of the hall. It stops when it sees the unfamiliar third party. Dune enters the code to close the steel-door, and just as it locks shut, a menacing growl echoes down the hall from the far end.
Dune’s rottweiler paces slowly toward the doorway, his eyes fixated on Flash, whose nervousness only serves to make matters worse. The beast snarls as he comes to within ten yards of Joey, and he’s on the brink of charging the instinctively unwanted guest before Dune snaps his fingers. He points the other way, and the dog obeys reluctantly.
Soon the three of them enter into the spacious, domed main room, at the center of which sits a wrestling ring. Joey continues to follow behind Dune, using him as a buffer between himself and the rottweiler. He looks around at the room as they head toward a small kitchen area.
Joey Flash: So this is where the magic happens, huh? This is where it all -
Dune turns on Joey and grabs him by the collar. The rottweiler begins baying at the sight of his master’s rage.
Dune: What are you out here for, Joey?! Is it me? Well here I am - now state your fucking business!
He pushes Flash and holds out his arms parallel to the ground. The dog continues to bark until Dune once more snaps his fingers. When the barking ceases, Joey chuckles.
Joey Flash: Your time as Champ’s starting to go to your head. See how vain you’ve become? What makes you think I’m here for you at all?
Dune: So it was coincidence that I intercepted you only a few miles from where I rest my head? Couldn’t possibly have anything to do with the fact that all you’ve been doing since the spring is talk about how you’re going to reduce me to ash. No - not possible.
Joey Flash: No...not coincidence. And no...not trying to kill ya. Nice try though. Keep going - you’ll get it soon enough.
Dune: You don’t want me dead. I know that much is true. What you want is to ruin me; to hollow me out and see me corrupted morally, drained emotionally, and broken physically. That’s what you want Joey, isn’t it?
Joey Flash: Yeah...yeah that’d be fuckin great. But you’re wrong again - that ain’t why I’m here.
Dune: But it is. You’re here to get a taste of my world with the hopes of gaining some sort of advantage on me for our inevitable showdown in the ring. You’re here to put yourself in my shoes - an admirable task, really. Though taking a little stroll in the desert isn’t going to give you anything more than a heat stroke, and it certainly won’t give you any sort of understanding of how I’ve been molded into the man you see before you today - the WCF World -
Joey Flash: Champion - right. I know. And no, I didn’t look on with a freshly shredded jawline as a band of outlaws murdered my older brother when I was a boy; I didn’t survive on my own in this literal hell on earth, which I’ve come to realize it is after less than a single day here. But I understand more about your plight than you seem to think. You’re not the only with demons. You’re not the only one with a black hole where family should be that’s filled with fire and hatred instead. You’re not the only one whose -
Dune: Shut the fuck up. I didn’t bring you here to listen to you whine and compare your cushy life to mine.
Joey Flash: Cushy? You fuckin’ moron, have you even -
Freeman: Enough!
The old man steps between the two, a tray topped with three double-shots of tequila in one palm. Joey looks at the glasses then up at Freeman.
Joey Flash: What the fuck is this? You trying to poison me or some shit?
Freeman: Which one you want?
Joey Flash: Fucking none!
Freeman: If you did, which would it be - just pick one!
Flash points to one, and Freeman picks it up and shoots it back, pulling back his lips in a strange sort of smile before he repeats the question. Joey points to another, and Freeman looks at Dune.
Dune: I don’t partake.
Freeman: Take your damn mask off and have a shot. We’re taking the edge off of this motherfucker, or someone’s going to end up dead.
Dune’s eyes move from the shot glass to Freeman, and finally to Joey as he reaches both hands behind his head. Flash furrows his brow but looks down at the mask, uneasy about seeing what lies beneath, though somehow fascinated all the same.
The shot becomes that of Dune’s field of vision, and as he unlatches his mask and pulls it over his eyes, the screen cuts to black.
Blue Balls
The handsome face of Joey Flash fills the screen, contrasting the almost inhuman one of Dune we’ve just left behind. He smirks and glares ahead, his head tilted slightly upward. In zooming out, we realize he’s standing in front of the smooth white wall of Dune’s canyonside fortress. Finally the thing which captures Joey’s gaze is revealed. Hanging on the wall in all its glory, the WCF World Title.
We cut away from Joey to Dune, who’s remained unmasked since taking his first drink with Flash. That was enough to take the edge off for him, but Joey hadn’t stopped there. Now about five deep, he calls out to the Champ.
Joey Flash: Bobby Cairo wore this belt.
Dune: Yeah.
Joey Flash: Odin Balfore...Steve Orbit...Jonny Fly…
He turns toward the couch.
Joey Flash: And now you - fucking Dune.
Dune: So bitter, Joey. But is it because I haven’t earned the top spot? Or is it because you’d rather it was you who held it in my stead?
Joey’s flashes a glare before turning back toward the belt.
Joey Flash: Put your fuckin’ mask back on. I can’t stand to look at you without it.
Dune and Freeman laugh, which only angers Joey further.
Dune: Now you know why I wear it. Difficult to behold, aren’t I? I’ve been made an ugly man. All these deep, jagged scars...or how about these long gashes here, where you can see through to my teeth?
Flash turns out of morbid curiosity as Dune clenches his teeth and runs his finger down two nearly symmetrical wounds on either cheek. He shoots his head back around in disgust.
Joey Flash: Put ya fuckin mask back on!
His voice echoes around the room, and the hair on Dune’s rottweiler’s back raises as he rises from his light-slumber. A growl draws Joey’s attention to the massive beast that creeps toward him. From the couch, Dune lets Joey squirm for a bit before calling off the hound. He reaches out and grabs his mask from the table nearby, latching it on before he turns to Flash.
Dune: All better.
He stands up and begins walking slowly toward Joey.
Dune: But you didn’t answer my question. What is it that makes you bitter to know I’m the best wrestler in this Federation?
Joey Flash: You’re not the best. I am. I just haven’t been given my shot.
Dune: Yes you have. Revenge was me, you, and that meddling fuck Thomas Bates. Sure, both of us would have rather gone at it one-on-one, but if anything Bates provides you with a lesser man to pin.
Joey Flash: You don’t get it, do you? I’m the greatest fighter the WCF has ever seen, and I’m not here to prove it by taking out lesser men, which we can both agree TUB fucking is. I want you, Dune. You hear that?
Dune: Since the Trilogy Cup finals back in April...yeah, I hear it.
Joey Flash: Since long before that. It just so happened that your match against Jay Omega was the first I decided to play a hand in. And because of me, what happened?
Dune: You beat Jay Omega for me - is that what you think? That if not for you I wouldn’t have won the Trilogy Cup and a shot at the Champ a month later?
Joey Flash: You can’t say I didn’t help…
Dune: And when I crushed Ice Beckman to win the World Title, where were you to help, Joey? Nowhere. I climbed to the top of the WCF on my own, no matter how you want to twist it up inside your head.
Joey Flash: Meh. For whatever fucking reason Beckman was my teammate...and in truth, you didn’t need my help against him.
Dune: Ah, right...and I did against Deuce Murdock a month later in my first defense? Surely I could have handled him on my own, yet you couldn’t seem to help yourself.
Joey Flash: I do what I can.
He shrugs and smiles wryly at Dune, whose eyes reveal a hidden sarcastic smile in return. Their gazes turn to glares before Freeman shakes his head and makes his way toward them.
Freeman: You boys need to settle the fuck down.
Joey Flash: Settle down? This was just starting to get good. Remember Occulo, Dune? Yeah, your first partner. Talk to him lately? I have. The two of you seem to have had some sort of falling out. You were so close once...before his Father took him out of commission; before I pulled all the right strings to make it happen.
Dune: You must be so proud of your accomplishments, Joey.
Joey Flash: Oh, I am. But you know what makes me ever prouder? That hospital bill that’s taking away from little Joey Black’s college fund. Poor Howard may never return from what I did to him...and to think, it was right in front of your eyes. Little Joey wrote to me - have I told you yet? He wrote of Uncle Dune saving the day when he finally got his hands on me. How precious...how foolish.
Dune: I’d like to get my hands on that letter just to see how right he was.
Joey Flash: The only thing I wish I could have done would be to have buried the blade inside your Brother’s belly all those years ago; to have sliced through your face like a hot knife through butter when you were still a boy…
Flash’s eyes go wide with anticipation as Dune stares into them. His deep voice cuts through the silence.
Dune: It’s not so much what you say as it is the fact that you think you can say it to my face in my home that’s making me want to tear you limb from limb all of a sudden.
Freeman: Dune, shut the fu-
Joey: Yeah shut the fuck up, Dune.
Dune: Get in the ring.
Flash’s eyes go wide with half-drunken excitement, and he turns and makes for it as Freeman gets in Dune’s face.
Freeman: No, no - not with Bates on the horizon.
Dune: This is just practice. Training.
Freeman: But -
Just then a pounding on the steel door at the end of the entrance hall echoes into the main room. Freeman, Dune, Flash, and the rottweiler all turn that way. Freeman turns back to Dune, a perplexed look on his face.
Dune: Get the door, Freeman.
The old man gives Dune a look as if to say, “Don’t fucking do it,” before turning and hurrying toward the door.
Dune turns to Flash, who waits inside the ring. A chill runs up his spine as it occurs to him that the thrill of finally being able to let loose on Joey Flash is mere seconds away. He slides into the ring and shoots to his feet. Months of world-crushing tension is on the brink of achieving that sweet, sweet release, when -
BANG! - BANG!
Two gunshots ring out before the faint cries of two men reach the ring. Freeman is one of them, and his voice echoes down the hall.
Freeman: Bigfoot! Fuckin’ Bigfoot!
Dune’s rottweiler begins to bay as if it were possessed. Flash and Dune turn to one another.
Flash: Bigfoot?
Dune: Bates clone, more or less.
Flash: Ah. That’d explain the interruption.
Dune: Go.
Flash: Nah I’ll stay he-
Dune: GO!
Reluctantly Flash obeys, and the two of them hurry off in the wake of the rottweiler as the screen fades out.
Lost Highway
The man called Bigfoot flees across the desert, and the WCF World Champion follows. The former rides a hog - a Harley built for the road; the latter rides in a dune buggy built for speed atop the sands. What had started as a healthy lead for the wannabe Dark Rider has shriveled down to less than 50 yards. Blood spills from the self-inflicted gunshot that’s torn a hole in his foot, and Dune glides beside the red lines as if it were some lost highway in this already deranged corner of the world.
We cut to a closeup shot of Dune, whose icy blue eyes are on fire as he stares ahead with unyielding purpose. A moment passes before the camera rotates, revealing the passenger who sits beside him: his archnemesis, Joey Flash. He stares at Dune, a look of scorn and lordliness etched on his face. He scoffs subtly before he speaks.
Joey Flash: Why’d you bring me out here?
Dune: I can’t trust you.
Joey Flash: Pfft...what was I gonna do, beat on your freshly-shot mentor? Fuck your girl, who Bigfoot and his boys probably ravaged before they brought her to your door as bait?
Dune’s face remains unchanged as he stares ahead.
Dune: Quiet. This isn’t about you, Joey.
Joey Flash: Let’s change that. I find the world so boring without me in it!
Again Dune pays no mind to Flash. He purses his lips and nods, turning to look ahead at the Thomas Bates-idolizer, Bigfoot. Several seconds of silence pass before he speaks.
Joey Flash: Dune...
He turns back toward him.
Joey Flash: How’s this gonna end?
Dune: With me burying this son of a bitch in the -
Joey Flash: No, no. Not THIS. I mean...this.
Flash wags his finger back and forth from himself to Dune, who finally cocks his head toward him. Joey smiles and returns his gaze, but the moment is short-lived as Dune turns back toward Bigfoot.
Dune: I’d like to say where it began in April - in the ring.
Joey Flash: Yeah? Because I don’t think -
Dune: - it CAN end?
Joey Flash: Can it? Will it?
Dune: Is that what you want, Joey?
Joey Flash: Yeah...but it can’t end until I’ve won.
Dune’s head spins toward Flash, whose arrogance leaps from his face in favor of a more serious tone.
Dune: You can’t win - not at the game you’re playing.
He looks ahead once more.
Dune: In the ring, you’re one of the few men in this company who has what it takes to wear this belt with pride. But you’re a meddler, Joey - just like Thomas Bates is playing in wedging himself into the main event at Revenge. The difference is, he does his meddling inside the ring; inside the realm of the WCF. You though...you’ve strayed far beyond that line in the sand you knew never to cross, and if you don’t reign it in...then no, I can’t say for sure how this will end, or even that it will at all. But for now, I need you to shut the fu-
He cuts off mid-sentence, and his eyes go wide as he watches Bigfoot choose which way to go at as he comes to a canyon that gives him only two options.
Dune: Oof - he just fucked up.
Joey Flash: What do you mean? Where are we headed?
He turns to Flash and smiles beneath his mask.
Dune: The Mouth of the Beast - Satan’s Maw.
Joey Flash: What the fuck?
A look of apprehension comes over Flash’s face before the camera zooms out rapidly. Soon the two vessels are mere specks near the bottom of the screen as a town of smoke and sporadic fires comes into view at the top. As they ride toward the town, and the radio tower nearby, the scene fades out.
Jackal
The dim light of the studio segues into the bright desert sunlight as we pick up the chase where we left off: from above. The smoldering town again sits in wait at the top of the screen as the two speck-like vehicles move toward it. From this high up they appear to be moving at a crawl, but as we cut to Dune and Joey Flash on the ground, the illusion of distance makes itself known. The two speed through the canyon atop the hard, desert ground, closing on Bigfoot as they near a break in the canyon.
Joey Flash: Let’s say I wanted to get out of here...what’s the best way?
Dune: You’re not going anywhere.
Joey Flash: Yeah...well if this Bigfoot motherfucker puts a bullet in you, I’m not sticking around for the funeral. This is life and death we’re talking about. Now which way?
Dune: Northeast. Big town up there. Can’t miss it.
Joey Flash: Northeast...right.
Dune: Or...maybe it’s southwest…
Flash looks over at Dune, a stern, humorless expression on his face.
Joey Flash: Fuck that. Which is it?
Dune: Are you telling me you don’t remember which way you came from? Don’t worry - you wouldn’t be the first to become disoriented in the desert.
Joey Flash: Ha-ha. Which -
Dune: Why’d you duck me, Joey.
Joey Flash: Why’d I - ah, shut the fuck up. Duck you? What on fuckin Earth would give you that idea?
Dune: We could’ve ended this at Revenge, despite Bates getting involved.
Joey Flash: The little shit…
Dune: You said yourself you wanted this to end.
Joey Flash: After I’ve won.
Dune: And how does Thomas Bates change matters? I’ll not lie and say besting you one-on-one is a sure thing, but give me one reason why Thomas fucking Bates makes your chances of winning any slimmer.
Joey Flash: They don’t - that’s the point. I don’t want to fight Thomas Bates for the World Title. I want to fight you, Dune. And I will. I haven’t ducked you. I’ve merely drawn out the affair.
Dune’s head snaps over to Joey, and his eyes light up as he speaks.
Dune: But at what cost?
Joey doesn’t answer. Instead he looks ahead as Dune does the same. They round a bend, shooting out of the canyon and back into the open desert, where a distant train appears on the right. Bigfoot heads toward a dark, half-spherical opening in the adjacent canyonside, toward which the train speeds along its tracks. Both look from Bigfoot to the train, though Joey does so again as Dune steps on the gas. He turns to Dune in panic.
Joey Flash: What are you doing?
Dune: He’s not getting away.
Joey Flash: He what? He’s not gonna get away - he’s gonna get fuckin crushed by that train!
Dune: No...we’ve got the angle. Trust me.
Joey Flash: Like fuck we do! Pull over, pull the fuck over!
Dune: No time for stops.
Bigfoot passes into the tunnel, and Joey panics some more as the train blares its horn and closes on them in a hurry.
Joey Flash: Goddamnit goddamnit what the fuuuuuuuuuck!!!
Just before the train enters the tunnel, Dune shoots the gap and speeds alongside the tracks within. Bigfoot’s taillights gleam up ahead, and the bright lights of the train beam upon their backs. Flash turns, quickly shooting back around to Dune.
Joey Flash: Drive! Drive! It’s right on your ass!
In his fear, he instinctively grabs hold of Dune, quickly releasing him and scowling at his mistake. Dune shoots him one in return.
Dune: Quiet. We’re fine.
Joey Flash: Fine?! No, we’re not fi-
But he stops as he becomes aware of the growing separation from the locomotive. He turns around to see traces of daylight etched into the far wall of the tunnel, and in coming around the bend, the blue sky makes him smile and laugh aloud.
Joey Flash: Hahaha! We did it!
He slaps Dune’s arm, who shoots him a glare.
Dune: You didn’t do shit.
Joey Flash: Well, yeah...considering you dragged me out here, I shouldn’t be expected to.
Dune: No. We all know what’s come to be expected of you, Joey.
Joey Flash: And what’s that.
Dune: The same old bullshit. I wonder if that’s what I’ll see in a month when it finally IS me and you, one-on-one for my World Title at War.
Joey Flash: You’ll see what the entire world is gonna see: the best pound for pound fighter in the world taking out the so-called “Champion.”
Dune: I didn’t deem myself World Champion. I earned the title.
Joey Flash: Just like you’ll earn defeat.
He turns to Joey.
Dune: I can imagine so much worse.
The tunnel spits them out seconds after Bigfoot. The wannabe Dark Rider veers away from the tracks and speeds toward a low hill, over the top of which faint wisps of smoke rise before they’re blown apart by the wind. Dune imagines Bigfoot’s face when he sees the smoldering town below and starts to smile beneath his mask when something catches the corner of his eye and drags his head that way.
It’s a jackal, it’s snout covered in blood as it tears away at what is likely a young, innocent rabbit...or what remains of one. Flash sees it too, and both he and Dune watch as its head darts up to watch them pass by. Dune is first to turn away from the black eyes of the predator, though Flash never breaks eye contact with it...that is, not until they crest the hill and drop down on the other side. He turns to see a ghost town whose burning is slow yet assured. Small fires are scattered about, and a large radio tower stands next to its accompanying station.
Joey Flash: The Maw, I take it?
Dune: The same.
The camera zooms out as Dune and Flash close on Bigfoot. His massive Bates-like frame betrays him as he begins to swerve, slowing him down enough for Dune to finally close the gap. He does, though just before he slams into the back of Bigfoot’s bike, the scene fades out.
Dark Tower
Desperation clings to Bigfoot’s face as he rides headlong into a place the locals call Satan’s Maw. This wasn’t how he envisioned his escapade to the desert panning out. In his haste to achieve the impossible and best Dune in combat before taking his mask back to Bates, who he mistakenly assumed would let him in the DRG for it, Bigfoot had underestimated the scale of the task.
But now his plan has gone to shit, literally shooting himself in the foot by mistake after kidnapping Dune’s love interest, Pinky, and using her as bait to lure Dune out of his canyonside fortress. It drew Freeman out instead, and Bigfoot botched the whole thing by shooting first and asking questions later, just like his idol, Thomas Bates, is fond of doing.
Just then his bike swerves hard, and we pan over to see Dune and Joey Flash in a buggy right behind him. Dune cuts hard to the left, knocking into Bigfoot’s bike once more. This time the big man can’t withstand the impact, and the bike sways violently before crashing against the hot, steaming earth. We cut to inside the buggy, which speeds past the downed Bigfoot before busting a u-turn.
Joey Flash: Holy shit - you fuckin’ killed him!
Dune: Not yet.
They speed toward Bigfoot, who stands in time to see them as they race toward him. In turn he flees, though in doing so he runs straight into a patch of soft ground,beneath which the magma sits incredibly close. He instinctively retreats, looking around at the smoldering town in sudden realization. Dune slides to a stop about 20 yards away. Joey watches as he takes the keys and hops out before making his way toward Bigfoot.
Dune: End of the line.
Bigfoot: What is this place? Where have you led me?!
Dune: You led yourself here when you set your sights on the stars. You’re not the first to do so, and you won’t be the last. But like all the others who tried and failed -
Bigfoot: Stop right there!
Dune: - you’ll burn in the fire, be it of the sun or the earth.
Bigfoot lunges for Dune, who dodges and slams his knee into Bigfoot’s gut. He keels over,and Dune leaps and kicks the fuck out of the big man’s face. He’s out cold almost instantly, though as he loses consciousness he stumbles backward and falls into the soft patch of earth. His massive frame breaks right through it, and the molten fire below wakes him from his sleep.
He screams before leaping up, throwing off his flaming jacket and rubbing his ass on the ground to put out the fire. Dune steps toward him when a thought occurs to him...but it’s too late.
CRACK
He turns just in time to receive a steel crowbar to the face. He goes down, not knocked unconscious but put into a definite stupor. And in it, the voice of Joey Flash echoes through his confused mind.
Joey Flash: Thanks for the tour ya fuck.. See ya around...Champ.
He kicks him in the face before retrieving the keys to the buggy. Moments later an engine roars, then steadily fades into the abyss that Dune floats in and out of. It’s a peaceful place, albeit full of darkness...until the monstrous hands of Bigfoot on his face snap him out of it. He opens his eyes to see the ugly brute, who flinches at the sight of the Champ’s wrathful gaze.
Bigfoot: Wakey, wak-AAAHHH!
Dune grabs hold of Bigfoot and gets a foot under him before tossing backward into the thinly topped magma pit. The force of the fall breaks the crust, and Bigfoot tries to scream, though the fact that his entire front-side is buried in the golden-red magma prevents him from doing so. Dune takes off his mask and spits on Bigfoot’s flaming carcass before turning toward the tracks Joey Flash had left behind.
He curses Flash’s name beneath his breath when the dark radio tower some 100 yards away catches his eye. He remembers something Freeman told him once - something about the transmitter merely needing to be turned on to be able to access nearly every pocket of the U.S. After a moment’s hesitation, he sets off toward the tower and the small station beside it.
Bane
We cut back to the present to find Dune in the studio once more. He leans in to the mic as he speaks.
Dune: Fuck you Joey Flash. I take my eyes off you for one second, and the next you’re bashing me over the head with a blunt object and leaving me stranded in a place far from home. I only hope you made it out of the desert. You should have by now if you were going to. Our paths may have very different starting and ending points, but this isn’t the last time they converge. And though we’re destined to cross paths at War, you can bet your ass I’ll be seeing you before then.
Dune turns away from the mic when he catches sight of the phone. After a moment of hesitation, he reaches over and plugs it back in. He answers it almost immediately.
Dune: Who am I talking to?
The call cuts in and out, though a familiar voice breaks through.
Caller: ...oward and Jo...way to...quare Garden!
Dune: You’re cutting out on me.
Caller: ...Howard and Joey Black, and we’re heading up to…
Dune: Howard! Howard, are you there?!
Howard Black: Yes! Dune, how are you?!
Dune: Readier than ever my friend. If I can put up half the fight you did against Bates, he’s done.
Howard Black: He’s done already. He’s an imposter. He’s a - earmuffs, Joey - he’s a fucking charlatan and snake oil salesman. I'm just glad Spencer finally woke up to that before Bates devoured him, too. His little gang is crumbling, and...drive the final nail...coffin at Revenge, he’ll never...
Dune: You’re cutting out, but I hear you all the same. Come and see me before the match...just watch out for Joey Flash. He’d love nothing more than to catch you off guard again, and I wouldn’t put it past him to harm an innocent child.
Howard Black: I’ll be there. And Flash can…..all I care. He….in….
The call cuts out, and Dune unplugs the phone. Dead air ensues as he’s taken by thought for a moment. Beneath his mask, a smile touches his scarred lips at the thought of Howard Black and his young son, Joey...which quickly sours as he considers Joey Flash and the man who’s delayed their meeting. Seething, he turns back to the mic for a final time.
Dune: Howard Black’s Bitch - Thomas Bates.
Thomas fucking Bates.
We live in a world of consequences. Just as the man who steps in the fire gets burned, he who tampers in a superior man's affairs is doomed to suffer the bane of his meddling actions. In that regard our roles this week are clear: you’re the meddler, and I’m the meddler’s bane.
Now let’s get this shit over with.
He stands, popping his neck with a slow turn to the left. Glaring toward the door, he strides off, and when he exits the room, the screen cuts to black.
Barstools and Dreamers
The low rumble of thunder rolls through the bar in the middle of nowhere, and the voice of a man follows in its wake.
Man: They say barstools are meant for dreamers...
She turns around, startled at first, though when she sees the clean-cut, middle-aged man standing in front of the bar, she lets her guard down.
Man: ...but it seems when they’re empty, it’s the bartenders who dream.
He wears a grey suit and a thick van dyke beard, and his green eyes, long brown hair, and perfectly symmetrical face lend to his appeal. It’s with regret that Pinky feels a tingle beneath her panties upon laying eyes on him, though she shoves the thought aside before she speaks.
Pinky: Oh, gosh - hey there! Didn’t hear you come in…
Man: I didn’t mean to startle you, young lady. Are you serving customers this early?
He gestures toward the stool in front of him.
Pinky: Never too early for a drink here. Have a seat. What can I get for you?
His arched eyebrows give his smile a sinister quality as he takes a seat. He moves with unrivaled grace, and his eyes never leave Pinky’s as he speaks.
Man: Glass of scotch, please - your finest.
Pinky: Balvenie?
Man: That’s the ticket.
She sets the rag and beer glass down before turning and grabbing the scotch. The man watches her all the while, and he doesn’t miss as she rubs her flat belly with her free hand while pouring his drink. She sets it down in front of him and smiles.
Pinky: I’ve never seen you before. You new around here?
Man: No, no, not exactly.
Pinky: Got a name?
He smiles and puts out his hand.
Man: Call me Jack. That’ll be just fine.
Pinky: Pleasure to meet you, Jack.
They shake and he sniffs at his drink, never taking his eyes off her. Pinky chuckles while unconsciously rubbing at her belly once more, and he smiles before taking a long sip. The scene begins to fade as he speaks.
Jack: Nothing like a bit of fire in the belly.
And darkness engulfs the screen.
Midnight, the Stars, and You
Night falls less than 24 hours before Slam, and yet Dune lies restless in bed. It’s not his recently embraced fatherhood that troubles him, nor is it the thought of taking vengeance on Joey Flash at WAR without the help of John Mullins. Least troubling of all is the thought of Zombie McMorris on the horizon, whose perma-fall from grace he’s more than capable of maintaining.
No, it’s something else that keeps him up and plagues his mind in the night: the abandoned town where the fires of the earth have risen to reclaim the surface; the Maw, as it’s otherwise known to locals.
The ten o’clock hour comes and goes, and a few strokes after eleven he can resist its draw no longer. He throws off his sheets and puts on a pair of pants, a shirt, and his boots, not bothering to put his mask on before he strides off toward the door. His rottweiler awakes from a deep slumber in time to catch him before he sets off, and the two of them make for the Maw at full speed in the buggy as the shot fades onto another.
The stars shine overhead, dotting the night sky with their unfathomable energy. Though as we begin to pan down, the cosmic fires are replaced by the deep orange glow of the earthbound variety. A spittle of magma shoots out of the distant ground as the back of Dune’s head comes into view. The camera rotates to his front, and his icy blue eyes dart into the lense before he speaks.
Dune: Why am I drawn here, of all places? There’s nothing here but fire and death...
A growl issues from behind him, and Dune turns to see his rottweiler rise up from the sand. He furrows his brow and looks out to where the dog faces, but he sees only darkness beneath the canopy of stars. All the same the dog takes off, baying wildly as he disappears into the night, and Dune calls out before he dashes for the buggy.
We cut to the beast, who nears his mark - a man in a grey suit in the shallow valley below. It’s the man from the Double X - “Jack” he called himself, though Jackal is a more fitting name - and he quietly sings the same tune Dune was humming when they crossed paths earlier in the week.
Jackal: Midnight, with the stars and you…
The beast closes to within 100 yards.
Jackal: Midnight, and a rendezvous…
The moonlight catches the dog’s eye as it nears.
Jackal: Your eyes held a message tender, saying I surrender…
20 yards out…
Jackal: All my love to you…
The beast pounces...
We cut back to Dune just before we hear his dog’s lone, sharp cry. As Dune calls out for him, we cut back to the shallow valley.
There, the man is gone, but the rottweiler remains. He walks forward slowly , panting and rubbing at his ears with his paws. He shakes...and shakes...until finally we hear a silent voice that speaks to the hound from within his mind.
“Good boy.”
Dune’s high beams hit the beast, whose eyes gleam as they absorb the light drawing near in the darkness that surrounds. The camera zooms in slowly on the dog, and just before Dune pulls up beside his oldest friend, the screen cuts to black.
No Goodbye
The next morning, Dune finds himself inside WCF One at the airfield near his home. Despite Freeman’s avid protests, he sits in wait as the jet gets set for take off. From his window, he watches as the old man drives away from the plane steeped in anger. Just before he rides out of sight, the jet lurches forward. Soon Dune is in the clouds, and he looks down upon the vast desert in awe of the scale.
In the middle of a patch of barren land he spots the Double X, and thoughts of Pinky fill his mind as he stares down at it.
“She’ll be fine,” he thinks to himself when guilt arises from not telling her of the impromptu trip to New York City.
He thinks of his dog, too, and comes to the same conclusion. After all, he’d only be gone a day or two...what could possibly go wrong?
“Everything’s going to be fine,” he thinks to himself as a patch of clouds covers the Double X before it sweeps under the wing and out of view. He turns his head forward, imagining all that’s still to come with a smile beneath his mask...
He can’t see it...he can’t hear it...but just as the Double X passes out of sight, an explosion tears a hole in one of the walls of the bar, and a column of thick black smoke rises up from the blast. Within, none other than Joey Flash is flung backward alongside Pinky and the child growing in her belly...all as the Jackal had planned.
But Dune doesn’t know. How could he?
“Everything’s going to be fine,” he thinks.
And darkness reclaims the screen for a final time.
Koyaanisqatsi (ko-yaa-nis-katsi): Life out of balance
“If we dig precious things from the land, we will invite disaster.” - Hopi Prophecy
“It’s no coincidence that man’s greatest achievement is also his greatest folly.” - The Jackal
After harnessing the power of the sun and using it to demolish two Japanese cities, the United States stood as the lone participating-nation made immensely stronger by World War II. The Soviets though - somehow standing tall despite unfathomable casualties throughout the war - had no intention of allowing for American-influence to overtake the globe. They too perfected the bomb, and henceforth the two nations began blasting away at their own respective soil.
The Soviets chose the barren lands of their vast empire.
The Americans chose the Mojave Desert.
Nuclear Afterbirth
We fade to a shot of a blue 1954 Cadillac Eldorado convertible cruising down a lone stretch of highway that slices through the American Southwest. Two young lovers ride within, and the winds of a half-decade of nuclear fallout blow through their hair as the radio plays one of the latest tunes.
“Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream...”
The letters on a sign up ahead finally come into view, and the young woman reads them aloud.
Woman: “Welcome to El Mago, where the mushroom clouds grow.”
She smiles giddily at the thought of seeing one of the legendary clouds.
“Sandman, I’m so alone. Don’t have nobody to call my own…”
A flash of light fills the sky, and they screech to a halt. After a few seconds the blinding light begins to fade in favor of a strange, glowing darkness that reveals a tower of smoke and fire rising up to the heavens. It’s over a hundred miles away, though its sheer size gives it the illusion of being far closer. From here the couple is safe from the fires, but a bath of radiation will doom them to an early grave.
We leave the car and begin to zoom in on the aftermath of the blast. Half a dozen white streaks drift next to the megacloud that continues to rise and curl in at the top. Huge plumes of dirt and ash fall as the smoke at the bottom rushes forth like some hellish tsunami. After about ten seconds a massive explosion strikes as we meet the soundwave, and an unending, ungodly roar replaces the eery silence of before.
Finally, when no more detail can be revealed without breaching the cloud, the rising column begins to suck everything around it back in...
The smoke withdraws, and in its wake there stands a man in an unblemished grey suit.
He’s familiar to us: Jack, he would introduce himself to Pinky as in the present some 61 years later. And yet, in his younger form, he hasn’t changed a bit. He’s the same man whose mere presence conjured up nightmarish visions in Dune’s mind when they bumped into each other at the Double X; the same man who intercepted Joey Flash in the desert in the days leading up to WAR; the same man who took over the mind and body of Dune’s rottweiler before attacking Dune and fleeing for the desert and Joey Flash once more.
But this, of course, is no man. This is something else entirely: a Jackal, born of man’s greatest folly and his destructive nature. From chaos he rises, and through chaos he survives.
The mushroom cloud grows behind him as walks toward the screen, risen from the depths to a world begging for bad tidings. He smiles cruelly, his mind filled with a darkness sure to spread, and it seeps in slowly from the edges of the screen before overcoming it entirely.
Castles Made of Sand
Dune is entrenched in a darkness similar to the one we just left. He sits on board WCF One in a state of deep meditation. The low hum of the engines, the sound of thin air being parted by force, and the trespasses of Joey Flash are all that exist inside his mind.
A crackle through the speakers precedes the Captain’s voice, and Dune’s eyelids raise slowly at the sound.
Captain: How about that view, Champ? Nothing like it. Just a few more minutes, then I’ll set her down nice and easy for you. Hang tight.
Dune peers out at New York City below. The concrete jungles of the world hadn’t appealed to him prior to signing with WCF, and they’d proven similarly displeasing to visit in his travels since. Now he flies into this alien world - the world of Joey Flash - not for pleasure but purely for personal pursuits. He shuts the shade, and his icy blue eyes shoot toward the screen as he speaks.
Dune: It’s about goddamn time.
Here I come, Joey.
I don’t mean this little trip I’m on now. I know you’re down there in that big glass city somewhere, but I’m not here for you. Your billionaire buddy Seth Lerch may have contractually banned me from laying a hand on you til the match proper, but all the same you’ve done more than enough to warrant a thorough out-of-ring beatdown from the best fighter in the business, so long as no witnesses are present to disqualify me from our bout at WAR. You know what you’ve done, and you’ve been lucky enough to avoid your fate this long. You’ve been running since April, but now your back’s against the wall and there’s nowhere left to hide.
Here I come, Joey.
Mere days separate us from what’s been brewing for five months, and I can hardly wait to give you a big fucking taste of what you’ve been craving all this time. You’ve only had a sampling thus far, back in Trios when you were still Ice Beckman’s bitch-underling. We shared a moment that night, didn’t we, Joey? Before it had only been the suspicion of greatness that made our polar opposite natures attract one another. But that night a fiery breath blew life into what’s become the most heated rivalry of our careers. Who knows how it appears to those on the outside looking in, but in here - where the fires are white hot and ever-burning - we both know it to be true…don’t we, Joey?
Remember when that white hot fire was just a candle flame dancing with the wind?
Remember when it wasn’t there at all?
I remember how it began - where it began - and if I have my say it’s going to end in the same place: between the ropes. Ever since I came to Occulo’s aid while you and the former Vapor Kings laid into him in the ring, you’ve been provoking me with the hope I’d follow your lead and assist you in taking this beef of ours outside the ring. But this isn’t the fucking mafia; this is a goddamn wrestling business, one where beefs are meant to arise so as to be squashed IN the ring, not outside of it...and ours ends in the ring next Sunday at WAR.
Here I come, Joey.
When I took Occulo on as my ally, it only made sense to take you on as my foe. He was one of the most talented and honorable men in this company, and though back then your wrestling prowess wasn’t in question, you were still the same conscienceless, morally corrupt piece of shit you are today. I may have been on your radar before then, but it wasn’t until I joined forces with your then-arch nemesis that you began to realize the threat I posed. By then I was tearing through the ranks of the WCF, scaling the mountain faster and higher than all the rest. By the time the Trilogy Cup finals rolled around, there was hardly any question who the next King of WCF Mountain was going to be.
And you just couldn’t accept that.
They teach young American kids like you the stages of grief in public school. At opposite ends are denial and acceptance, but it’s in between where the true struggle lies. Yet as I neared the summit, it was in the black pit of denial where you willingly remained, refusing to allow the newer, more skillful fighter his rightful place on the throne. And so you did the only thing a coward could do in that situation: you made it easy for me - or tried to, anyway. Smacking Jay Omega with a steel chair may have quickened the inevitable, but all it really did was set fire to the long fuse...and it’s been burning ever since. You’ve been toeing the line, wary to wade through the healing waters of grief en route to accepting that I’m the man in this company like all the rest have, but at WAR you’re getting tossed right the fuck in. And when you emerge on the other side, you’ll have no choice but to accept your fate.
Here I come, Joey.
You’ve got my full attention. You’ve had it since trying to take a shit on what I’d worked so hard to achieve since arriving with the new year. Your many in-ring trespasses don’t take away from what I’ve built though. They only serve to chip away at the already faulty foundation you’ve built not only your WCF career on but your life on as a whole. I know far more about you than I’d like to, and in truth the more I learn, the more my absolute lack respect for you somehow waxes even further. Never before have I wanted to lay waste to a man inside the ring so badly as I do you, and thank fucking god my chance is right around the corner.
You want the best, Joey? Here I am. You could’ve had me at Revenge but you turned tail and fled when Thomas Bates was thrown into the fold. Well now it’s just me and you. There’s no one left to stand between us on the battleground. No one left to keep us apart.
Men have died for less than the shit you’ve pulled - stacks of them. But death doesn’t play into the war we’re in the midst of, only utter defeat at the hands of the better man. Your win/loss ratio doesn’t impress me, Joey. I’ve decimated far better fighters and come away as the victor, and none had incurred my wrath so much as you. And now the only thing that can quench it is the motherfucking World Champion pinning your scrawny little shoulders for three.
You fucked up, Joey. You picked a fight with the wrong man.
My fortress lies deep within an impenetrable inland empire, the heart of which you’ll never reach. But yours is comprised of castles made of sand, built upon the open shore without thought or care of the incoming tide. It’s been creeping closer and closer since April, and at WAR, when the waves finally come crashing down on your fragile kingdom, the entire world will bear witness to the unfolding of its ruin.
Here come the waves, Joey.
Here I come.
Dune cuts off as the plane comes to a halt on the runway. He rises from his seat and makes his way toward the exit. A black car awaits him outside, and he descends the ramp just as the car door opens to reveal the man he’s come to see: John Mullins.
“He’s there,” Mullins had said. “The Jackal.”
Dune glares at the sight of the man who dealt the original blow to the Sentinels when he attacked his own son, Occulo.
“Come to New York or they die,” he had said on the phone.
“...or they die,” Dune had dreamt him saying the night before.
He comes face to face with Mullins, who sticks out his hand and stares up at the Champion.
Mullins: Good to see you, Dune. How was your flight?
Dune: Cut the bullshit. You know why I’m here.
Mullins nods.
Mullins: The Jackal.
Dune: Right. Who is he?
Mullins: How should I know?
Dune’s eyes take on a menacing, wide-eyed stare as one might give a dog who misbehaves, and Mullins continues as to avoid what’s likely to follow.
Mullins: I wasn’t kidding you on the phone - I’ve dealt with him before, but I only know so much. As to who he is...or rather, WHAT he is...I can’t say. A demon, perhaps. Maybe even the devil himself. All I know is he thrives on the creation of chaos and the subsequent destruction of men. He penetrates the mind, Dune. Then he takes the body. Once he hones in on a target, he doesn’t cease until it’s utterly broken...and he’s been targeting you for a long time.
Dune chuckles incredulously, regretting his decision to come to the city.
Dune: M-hmm. And how could you know all this?
Mullins: Because I’ve been inside HIS mind. The only way to beat him is at his own game.
Dune: Which you play?
Mullins: To great success. Wanna learn? You’ll have to if you don’t want to lose everything. It’s not me who’ll take it from you. I’m no threat to you. Just remember why you’re here.
“...or they die.”
Dune looks down at his hand, still healing from his rottweiler’s bite the day before. He remembers the odd behavior that preceded his oldest and most loyal friend attacking him...thinks of Mullins’ words just now: “He penetrates the mind, Dune. Then he takes the body.”
“...or they die.”
He nods toward the car, and Mullins gets in before Dune follows suit. As the door shuts, the screen cuts to black.
If You Build It…
Craters large and small mark the ground as viewed from above. We may as well be on the moon, but as the camera zooms in and rotates toward the horizon, the glowing desert sun tells us otherwise. More craters come into view. They cover the surface like a deadly pox atop an already stricken land. They’re the remains of nuclear explosions wrought up by man’s innate desire for dominance, however artificial its form may be.
A figure walks amongst the death below - a figure who was, in fact, awoken by the same power that bore the craters in the earth; that spread it’s toxic radiation.
The shot fades to one of the Jackal, who creeps slowly toward the edge of a deep, shadow-filled crater. He reaches the lip and pauses, looking down into the seeming abyss below. In the infinite silence, he speaks.
Jackal: Where are they?
He turns, scowling as he scans the horizon.
Jackal: Where are the bombs? Where are the men exposed to the invisible death they spread? They may have been blind to it, but there’s nothing like watching a horde of men enveloped in fresh nuclear emissions from a high seat on a canyon somewhere...or better yet, up close and in person...to FEEL the death seep in and take hold at a molecular level…
He shivers with the joy of the memory, and a thought comes to him.
Jackal: This place has gone quiet. It was man who made the bomb, and the bomb which brought me here. All that noise; all that racket - I just couldn’t ignore it any longer...
But now, in the absence of his atomic mayhem, may man himself come to fill the void. After all, his bombs are merely the controlled killing devices of an otherwise uncontrollable killer. Man is a monster - he’s always been a monster - and he’ll come to the desert to escape the laws that would bind him for acting upon his natural instincts. Out here, his bedlam will know no bounds. Here, he’ll gather en masse, drawn by the seductive allure of a new life amongst those of his own ilk.
He turns toward the camera, his eyes alight and impassioned as he speaks.
Jackal: I’m what you might call a firestarter, and what better way to get a good one burning than by allowing man the proper setting to reconnect with his primal rage?
He smiles and closes his eyes…
The nuclear fallout of the bomb tests spread throughout the vast majority of the U.S. Now, as the Jackal focuses his unearthly power and energy, a similar phenomena occurs. All across the nation, the desperate and loathsome are met with a fallback plan that’s never occurred to them before, and nothing has ever sounded so appealing. It’s the desert, an unlikely ally that offers a chance to build anew beyond the laws of the society they’ve come to know.
Within weeks the first outlaw tribes came to be.
And the rest, as they say, is history.
Resonating Consciousness
People...people everywhere.
The city is alive with them. They pack the sidewalks like a single organism in constant flux, and the streets are lined with their vessels from end to end. The surrounding buildings are jammed full of them too. For most here it’s business as usual. But from an outsider’s perspective, like that of Dune, the chaotic activity is bothersome, mind-numbing...troubling, even.
We cut to the inside of a car, where both Dune and Mullins stare out at the traffic ahead in silence. “Bugged,” Mullins had mouthed back at the airfield, and Dune had no desire to engage in small talk with the man who took Occulo out of action for months
But though his lips don’t move, his mind is full of activity like the city around him, and we latch onto a stream of consciousness that begins to resonate and become audible.
Dune: I don’t hate most men, but Joey Flash isn’t most men.
He’d take that as a compliment. He’d take that to mean he’s won the World Title already. And in his mind, he has. But the very real hate I have for Flash isn’t so much due to his unrivaled brashness and abrasiveness as it is his downright lack of humanity and inability to stay out of my personal affairs. Others would agree...my fellow Sentinels, Howard Black and Occulo, most of all.
What you did to them is unforgivable, Joey. Sure, Occulo’s healed and back in time for one of the most prestigious events in this industry, but that doesn’t excuse you from all the time you caused him to miss. I’m not a fool; I understand full well it was Mullins who took Occulo out of commission, but it was because of you, Flash. You were the puppet master pulling the strings, as you so love to be. You like to consider yourself in the same position when it comes to me and mine, but you’re far from it, Joey. You have no control over me, especially inside a wrestling ring beneath the lights of home. That’s where I thrive. That’s where I get shit done. And what the fuck have you done in the ring lately - won a string of matches against midcard talent? It’ll take more than the mediocre standard you’ve set for yourself since losing the TV Title to get over on me you holier than thou son of a bitch.
Weeks ago in the desert you asked me how this would end - if it even COULD end. Well it can, Joey; it will. But this doesn’t end in the dark, fucked-up-fairytale manner you seem to imagine it will. This isn’t your time. Do I even need to bring up the fact that you snapped the exalted losing streak of Adam Young not long ago? I don’t have to spice that shit up to make it burn, but to be honest even mentioning it is like beating a dead horse. And don’t even get me started on Grime. Since dropping the TV Title to that talentless void of humanity, you’ve devolved from a potentially great wrestler to a goddamn laughing stock.
And now you’re facing the World Champion - the very best of the best.
What the fuck?
That’s what I’d be asking had I not been privy to all your bullshit shenanigans that wound up reaching far too close to home for me to ignore. I guess underachieving, overrated motherfuckers around the Federation should take note: if you want to get a World Title shot down the line, it doesn’t matter what you do in the ring on Sundays. Just fuck with the most talented in-ring performer on the roster without shame or remorse for a while and you’re sure to get a shot. That’s all Joey’s done to get his. But sneaking around and fucking with me outside the ring is an entirely different game than trying to best me between the ropes. And when the end of each month rolls around, you can bet your ass I’m in prime form.
I’ve never lost in a PPV match, Joey. I don’t buckle when the pressure’s on; I don’t succumb to the heat when the fires are closing in. And they are for you, Joey. You’re surrounded by a sea of them, and with each passing second they inch closer to their next meal. You’ve come a long way from where you started in the WCF, but the back road you’ve chosen to take to the summit of my mountain hasn’t gone unwatched; your fumbling ascent hasn’t gone unnoticed. I’m ready for you, Joey - as ready as I’ve been for all the others I’ve flung from the mountaintop.
What the fuck makes you think you’re better than them? You’re not, for what it’s worth - not by a long shot. But you don’t listen. You don’t pay attention. If you did, you’d never question my place at the top of the WCF hierarchy. You’d stand humbled by what I’ve done as opposed to desecrating it, if only inside your mind...but you’ve taken it far beyond the confines of your skull, and for that I’d love nothing more than to see it crushed before I pin you and retain.
Fuck you, Joey Flash.
This doesn’t end well for you. You’re not coming out on top. You’ve wronged me far too greatly and far too many times to be let off so easy as to not spend a few weeks in a hospital bed after our inevitably-epic showdown. Cheap shotting me is one thing, but in setting your hands on Freeman last week...in setting your sights on the love of my life, Pinky, before that...you’ve earned yourself the fiercest, most dominant beatdown you’ll ever receive in what’s becoming a disappointing and lackluster career. It mirrors your private life, I suppose, which hasn’t turned out the way you’d planned it either. Perhaps that’s why you’re so eager to blend the two: your failures in each have made them wholly indistinguishable.
Would that you could hear my thoughts, you piece of shit. I’d give you one final warning: leave them alone. Pinky, Freeman, Chief, my dog...and my unborn child, most of all. But I needn’t remind you of that. You’re not so desperate as to harm them…
Or are you?
You’re unpredictable, Joey, and while I know exactly what to expect this Sunday at WAR when we settle this once and for all, I don’t know what you’ll do before or after your devastating loss. Take one look at all those I’ve defended my World Title against and you’ll get an idea of just how devastating defeat by my hand and the long fall from the top can be. Look to your former Vapor King partner, Ice Beckman, or those DRG boys, Deuce Murdock and Thomas Bates. Look to the Ultimate Showdown participants, most of whom are no longer on the roster. That’s the kind of power this Title holds, Joey. There’s no feeling in the world like ripping the Title from a lesser competitor and raising it high above his head. That’s a feeling you’ll never know as long as I wear the strap. And in the absence of such a monumental experience, don’t you dare go and pull a Columbine in the locker room…
Or worse yet, find your way to the desert.
Never - EVER - do I want to see you out there again. If I so much as get wind that you’ve come back to my corner of the earth...so fucking help you, Joey. Because I know you won’t have come to drop in and say, “Hello.” Tragedy is what you’ll look to achieve...but I won’t let you do it. I’d rather die than let you come between the ones I love.
But you know better. Surely you know better.
Either way, take my advice and prepare early for the crippling defeat that’s to come. Don’t get your hopes up like all the rest so laughably do. It’ll only make your fall that much more devastating. Unlike some may tell you, there’s life after death by Sandstorm in the ring. And while that particular afterlife isn’t the paradise as told of in scripture, it certainly isn’t the hell you’re making it out to be. After all, the only change will be the fact that I thrashed you, pinned you, and retained my World Title; that I proved my in-ring supremacy over you beyond a shadow of a doubt...as if there ever was one to begin with.
His stream of consciousness fades out, and a few seconds later the screen cuts to black.
Pieces of the Puzzle
The sunlight of early afternoon hits a quaint, relatively secluded NYC park. Shades of autumn paint the trees, and as we zoom out slowly a dying leaf comes into view. It falls, and we follow it’s chaotic descent until it crosses the plane of Dune’s half-masked face. The shot zooms out and pans over to show the WCF World Champion sitting beside John Mullins at a bench, though he doesn’t look his way as he speaks.
Dune: Why here?
Mullins: My car’s bugged. The CIA keeps watch on the world, and that includes their own...disgraced as they may be.
Dune: That’s not what I’m asking. Why HERE? What kind of significance does this place hold for you?
Mullins: None.
Dune shakes his head disbelievingly before he continues.
Dune: Your phone’s bugged. Your car’s bugged. Well now we’re bug free, so speak your peace.
Mullins: Joey Flash slipped through my fingers and ruined my -
Dune snatches Mullins by the collar and pulls him in close.
Dune: I don’t want to hear another word about Flash. He’s mine, Mullins, and mine alone. Our war ends in the ring. It doesn’t expand beyond. I won’t let it. I’m not here because of him; I’m here because of this Jackal - now tell me everything you know about him.
Dune releases him, and Mullins catches his breath and swallows hard before he responds.
Mullins: I’ve spent time in your neck of the woods. CIA, Dune - we have no bounds. And as you know, the Mojave is scene to some bizarre shit. It’s been a haven for madness and chaos since the 60’s...and to this day the outside public is none the wiser.
Dune: The desert is hell on earth. You don’t have to remind me.
Mullins: And yet, against all odds, you survived there. Your parents, murdered when you were a child. Your older brother, slaughtered right in front of you. So much death, and yet you survived...all because he wanted you to.
Dune: He, being the Jackal, I presume.
Mullins: You're his pet, Dune. Your his toy; his latest fancy, and he set to work on you from day one - before that, even. He’s the maestro conducting the tragic orchestra that is your life thus far. All your hate - all the loss it springs from - it’s by design. The ebb and flow of your life is predictable, and each incoming tide hits harder than the last. First it was your parents. Next it was your brother. And now, Dune...now it’s you.
Dune sighs impatiently.
Dune: A demon’s been manipulating my life...is that what you’re saying?
Mullins: Yes - a demon or something like it. He’s the one who’s responsible for bringing the tribes to desert in the first place. I first met him when I was investigating the disappearance of two young girls around the time Occulo was born. That was when…
Mullins continues to talk, but Dune isn’t listening. He seethes and stares straight ahead, contemplating his next move as a sort of primal anger boils up from within. His questioning of his dog’s strange behavior seems supremely foolish now, and for the first time in a few hours he thinks of home. He wonders if Freeman’s found his runaway best friend; if Pinky and the baby are alright.
He turns to Mullins and cuts him off mid-sentence.
Dune: Take me back to the plane.
Mullins: But we’ve only scratched the -
Dune: We’re done here. Let’s go.
He gets up, lifting Mullins by his collar. He pushes him toward the car when Mullins’ eyes light up at the sight of something at Dune’s back. The Champ turns to see a beautiful woman and her young child exit the far treeline and enter into the bright, sunlit field before him.
Mullins: There she is. She likes to bring him here in the afternoons.
Dune: Who is it?
Though he realizes as he asks.
Alessandre Allegri, the soon to be wife of Joey Flash, plays and laughs with four-year-old Christian Flash as Dune stares on in momentary horror. Something trapped inside him begs to be let free as he watches the mother and son from an unsafe distance. Silent rage spills over as he turns on Mullins.
Dune: You piece of shit. I knew you chose this place for a reason.
Mullins: They’re a part of this, Dune. The Jackal knows how to -
Dune shoots forward, manhandling Mullins into the driver’s seat of his car before shutting the door on him. He gets in the back right away, narrowly avoiding Alessandre’s gaze as she turns to see what the commotion is from afar.
Dune: Drive.
...but the brief physical confrontation can’t help but remind him of what’s to come at WAR with Joey Flash, and he leans in as Mullins starts the car.
Dune: Where’s Joey?
Mullins: He’s in the desert.
Dune: No...no, that was weeks ago. I was with him then.
Mullins: He’s gone back.
He turns toward Dune.
Mullins: You didn’t know?
Dune: But why would he -
We cut from the car to a shot of Dune’s rottweiler hundreds of miles away. The black dog sprints toward a column of rising smoke in the desert. It’s the Double X - what’s left of it, anyway, and scattered around it are several dead bodies. Nothing lives here, as the dog finds out upon rummaging around the place.
The scent of the uninvited Joey Flash stings his nostrils before the familiar smell of Pinky washes it away. He wags his tail amidst the smoke and burning rubble, though his excitement ceases as a man steps out from a dark corridor left standing.
The rottweiler bays at the Jackal, who laughs as he slowly approaches the beast.
Jackal: What’s that, boy - fire on the old hill? Or is it another turn with me behind the wheel that you’re wanting?
The dog’s barking ceases at his voice, and he whines as he backpedals in the path of the Jackal. He false-charges, and the dog turns tail and flees for home.
Jackal: That’s right, boy - that’s the way he went with her broken body!
He chuckles, infinitely amused at himself as he adds under his breath.
Jackal: And tell your master I’ll be seeing him soon.
And the screen cuts to black.
Wired for Sound
High in the air, WCF One speeds at upwards of 500 mph...but it’s not fast enough.
“He’s in the desert.”
The sinister grin of Joey Flash is imprinted on Dune’s mind as he considers the whereabouts and reasonings of his arch nemesis. He grits his teeth, fuming at allowing himself to be caught off guard. He’d called each in his small circle of companions from Mullins’ phone in the city, though neither Pinky, nor Chief, nor Freeman had answered.
He thinks of Pinky; of the growing baby in her belly. A rage comes over him, and he nearly wrecks the cabin before he manages to smother the flames.
Hundreds of miles and more than a few hours separate him from home. Powerless to provide his loved ones protection from the presumed-cruelties of Joey Flash, he flicks his eyes toward the lense and begins to speak.
Dune: Goddamn you, Flash - what the FUCK are you doing in the desert?! I’ve told you time and again to leave the ones I love out of this. They have absolutely nothing to do with the war we’ve been waging since spring. But you refuse, and in so doing you’ve incurred the full might of my infernal wrath. You would have been wiser to make a deal with the devil himself; now you won’t get off so easy.
You know the things I’ve seen, Joey.
You know the evil misdeeds I’ve avenged during my time here under the sun.
And yet you continue to dip your feet in the fire.
You ignore the warnings; you ignore my strength. I’m not talking about the ability to toss you around and snap your fucking vertebrae at will. I’m talking about the mental fortitude I possess. I’m talking about my inability to let anyone who’s wronged me off the hook so long as we’re both alive and breathing. And if I find you’re guilty of some unforgivable atrocity out here on the plains of the desert...you’ll never go free again.
This CAN end, Joey. It will, and hopefully at WAR…
But that all depends on what awaits me back home.
Dune doesn’t stop there, though a high pitch ringing rises from nothing to overcome his voice as we begin to zoom in on his face. Soon his voice is drowned out completely, and his mask fills the screen.
A tiny, circular piece of tape comes into view. It’s a microphone, transparent and almost invisible to the naked eye. Mullins planted it there as Dune was busy manhandling him back into the driver’s seat upon catching sight of Joey Flash’s fiance. But Dune is none the wiser. He continues letting loose on Flash in the only way a man can from 40,000 feet up.
The ringing persists as the shot fades slowly onto another.
Falling
The hot pink hair that is Pinky’s namesake makes her distinguishable even from afar. From the edge of the horseshoe canyon that conceals Dune’s home, we can see her lying on the ground just outside the front door. A black mass lays beside her, and it isn’t until it’s head pops up at the sound of an approaching motor that we realize it’s Dune’s rottweiler. He stands up slowly, though beside him Pinky doesn’t move an inch.
A buggy shoots by the screen, and we catch up to Dune as he nears his canyonside abode. He sees Pinky right off, and his heart sinks as she fails to move with his closing. He pulls up beside his rottweiler, glad, of course, to see his oldest and most loyal companion returned and apparently back to its old self...but it’s Pinky he remains focused on, and he brushes the dog away as he races toward her.
Kneeling down, he assesses the damage...and his head nearly explodes with rage.
Her face is bloodstained and badly beaten, but upon closer inspection he realizes that’s not the only part of her that’s been bloodied. His gaze moves down her petite frame in horror to see dried blood covering her clothes from the waist down. Tears of rage fill his eyes, and he gently sets his hand upon her navel. As he does, a pang unlike he’s ever felt strikes him, and he knows the worst has happened.
He curses Joey Flash in a fit of unfathomable rage, convinced that he’s the man responsible for this unforgivable act.
He applies pressure to Pinky’s palm and gently rubs at her temple, careful not to shake her awake in case of neck or spinal damage, when suddenly her eyes flutter open. The two lovers lock eyes, and Pinky smiles before wincing in pain. Her eyes begin to roll back in her head as she manages to mutter something too quiet for Dune to hear. He grips her hand and leans in.
Dune: What’s that, my love?
Pinky: Joey…Joey, he…
“...saved me.”
Which he did, though not before the Jackal churned her womb to a pulp. But her voice fades before she can utter those two most crucial words.
Dune grits his teeth, and they nearly shatter as he’s given what he assumes to be the confirmation he’s after.
Dune: It’s okay - Joey’s gone. I’m here now.
But she doesn’t hear him. Her eyes roll back in her head before they close, and she goes limp.
Tears well up in his icy blue eyes, and they fall to mix with the dried blood and dirt that’s smeared all about his only true love’s broken face. He begins to sob uncontrollably, as he did on the night his brother was taken from him and never since.
And as the tears blind him, he finds himself falling into darkness…
Falling…
Falling…
When the fires rise to catch him.
He shoots his head to the sky, and just as the first few notes of a wrathful scream escape his lungs, the screen cuts to black.
Gone
Sharp grains of sand shoot into Dune’s eyes as he squints at the rising emergency helicopter and its precious cargo. It took over an hour for the paramedics to reach his coordinates, and in that time Pinky hadn’t spoken another word.
“Joey...Joey, he…”
And those that went unspoken: “..saved me.”
His rottweiler licks at his healing-hand once more, though Dune ignores it. His mind is elsewhere, and he’s blind and numb to the world around him. For a brief moment he snaps out of it, and he slowly walks over to let the hound inside before punching in the code to close the steel door behind him.
He looks out at the distant horizon as the sound of a buggy comes to within earshot. A few seconds later Freeman pulls up beside him, tears in his eyes as he gets out.
Freeman: My god, Dune - it’s Chief! He’s dead! Someone blew the Double X to hell and put a bullet in Chief’s skull! Have you seen Pinky?!
Dune: He got to her while I was gone.
Freeman: He what?! Who did?!
Dune lunges forward, grabbing Freeman by the collar and screaming in his face.
Dune: JOEY FLASH DID! HE KILLED MY UNBORN CHILD!
He throws Freeman to the ground without thought or remorse, and the old man’s skull collides with a rock that knocks him out cold. A trickle of blood seeps out from the wound, but Dune pays it no mind as he makes for his buggy and speeds off toward the setting sun.
Back to the airfield; back to The Bronx to find and kill Joey Flash.
As he speeds across the sands, his fury can be contained no longer, and he screams with a rage he’s never felt before.
Dune: JOEY! GODDAMN YOU, JOEY! YOU’LL PAY FOR THIS IN BLOOD!
The dry desert wind carries his words to a man standing up ahead, though Dune is yet to see him.
Dune: I WARNED YOU! YOU WANTED THIS TO END, BUT NOW IT NEVER CAN - NOT INSIDE THE RING AS IT WAS SUPPOSED TO!
He catches sight of the man, but he doesn’t cease, nor does he slow down.
Dune: IT’S ALL GONE, JOEY! ALL HOPE; ALL LIGHT! GONE!
A crossroads approaches, and finally Dune begins to slow as the familiar face of the man comes into view.
Dune: Gone, Joey. And in the darkness, I finally see.
Despite his haste, he slows to a stop at the center of the crossroads.
There stands the Jackal, his grey suit clean as ever. He smiles to see Dune get out and approach. Just before he speaks, the Jackal puts a finger to his mouth. He reaches out and snags the tiny translucent microphone off the bottom of Dune’s mask, revealing it to him before burying it in the sand.
Jackal: A microphone...talk to any CIA agents of late - perhaps one by the name of John Mullins?
Dune: Who are you?
Jackal: Didn’t he tell you? My name’s Jack. But you don’t believe in that nonsense he was trying to feed you - I can tell. That’s good. If only you hadn’t fell into his trap. He drew you out of the desert so the one you’re shouting about could fight his battle unopposed. And he did just that.
Dune’s head is flooded with questions, though the Jackal continues before he can spit one out.
Jackal: What is it you want, Dune?
Dune: Blood; vengeance; death.
Jackal: From?
Dune: Joey Flash.
Jackal: And what would you give to reap it?
Dune: Anything.
He says it in full knowledge of the strange nature of the present-encounter. He doesn’t shy away from the darkness that radiates from the Jackal. Rather, he’s drawn toward the abyss, even though deep down he knows to fight it’s pull. But in the end, he can’t help but give in.
The Jackal puts out his hand and smiles.
Jackal: It’s a deal...
Dune reaches out, but just as he makes contact, the Jackal speaks up with a single request.
Jackal: ...so long as you let me in.
And both men vanish from sight.
We zoom out from the crossroads, and after a few seconds of silence, the screen fades to black.
Koyaanisqatsi (ko-yaa-nis-katsi): Life disintegrating
“Night is blighted and darkness glows. The Black One remains, remains, remains…” - Ingmar Bergman, "The Seventh Seal"
“I was me, but now he’s gone.” - METALLICA
In the Arms of Death
The faraway cries of a desperate woman precede the vision of a torch-lit struggle in the distance. As we zoom in, we can see the body of a man lying on the ground in front of her. His blood stains the sand that four outlaws trample upon as they torment the woman. She’s backed up against a canyon wall, and they jab at the air in front of her with their blades and torches as they close in.
Suddenly one charges, and we pan away as the woman lets out a final scream before she’s silenced forever.
The smooth sands that glide beneath us are made blue by the moon’s reflected stellar light. The camera begins to slow, and it comes to a stop on a man in a grey suit walking toward a small nook in a nearby canyon. It’s the Jackal, and when he nears, a teenage boy leaps out and throws a knife at his head. It’s right on target, and the man doesn’t move...but it misses all the same. He doesn’t bother to dodge the next one that flies at him either, though by then he’s merely feet away.
The teenager charges, and the man smiles before uttering three words.
Jackal: Let me in.
The Jackal disappears, and all that’s left is the teenage boy. A struggle ensues within the boy’s mind, but the jackal wins out easily. He speaks aloud to his vessel, who’s trapped somewhere within.
Jackal: You’re awfully ready to die, aren’t you? And so soon after losing both your parents just now.
From a void within, the boy responds.
Sean: Let me out you son of a bitch!
The Jackal laughs to hear his rage.
Jackal: Don’t worry, child - I’m not here for you...not yet. You can have your pathetic body back in a moment or two. I only want to hold you baby brother...what is it you call him again?
The possessed teenaged boy walks back over to the nook, wherein lies a white blanket that kicks and shuffles atop a smooth rock-ledge. He unwraps it carefully, revealing a bright and beaming baby boy beneath. His supple skin shines in the moonlight as his older brother again calls out from within himself.
Sean: Goddamn you! Don’t you lay a finger on him!
Jackal: Shh...
He picks the baby and holds him out at arm’s length. His adorable, once-smiling face takes on a somber expression, and his icy blue eyes remain fixated on his possessed-brother as if he knows something’s not right.
Jackal: There you are. Dune, is it?
A smile comes over his face as he pulls the baby in close.
Jackal: I’ll be seeing you.
A gust of wind blows, and in an instant Dune’s older brother has regained control of his mind and body. He holds his baby brother tight as fear and the realization that his parents have just been murdered takes hold. The wind moves on, and he hunkers down in the small cave, cradling Dune. We zoom in on the future WCF World Champion, whose eyes stare into the screen as the shot fades to another.
Seeing is Believing
Dune ages 28 years in a few seconds. He continues to stare into the screen, though his eyes have drained of all emotion. We zoom out and pan over to see the Jackal - or Jack, as he’s known to Dune - staring back. They stand at a crossroads in the desert, and Jack smiles as he puts out his hand.
Jack: It’s a deal…
They shake.
Jack: ...so long as you let me in.
In in an instant Dune finds himself transported from the crossroads to the passenger seat of a Jaguar XJ, whose luxury is a far cry from the harshness of the previous locale.
For a moment he forgets that his only love, Pinky, has lapsed into a coma; that his unborn child who was growing within her only hours before has been churned to a pulp. He even forgets about Joey Flash, who he’s 100% certain is guilty of the unspeakable deed. “Joey...Joey, he…,” Pinky had said before she fell quiet. But two crucial words went unspoken: “...saved me.”
He turns to see Jack behind the wheel, calmly hugging the turns of the winding road they travel down. The sun was shining a moment ago, but now it’s hidden far below the horizon.
Dune: How’d we get here?
Jack’s eyes peak his way, and he smiles.
Jack: I brought you with me just now. It’s good to see you aren’t throwing a fit. Some do, you know - in their confusion. Of course they do. They’re only human, and by rule they fear what they don’t understand.
Dune: I don’t fear you -
Jack: That’s good.
Dune: - but I want to know what you are.
Jack: Didn’t John Mullins tell you?
Dune: He said you were a demon.
Jack laughs as he narrowly avoids a small mouse scurrying across his lane.
Jack: Wrong.
Dune: Then what are you?
Jack: An angel, more like - a guardian angel: yours. But in truth I’m neither angel nor demon, and what I am isn’t as important as what I can do.
Dune: And what’s that?
Jack: Bring you Joey Flash. Blood; vengeance; death - that is still what you want?
The name of his arch rival brings it all back: Pinky; his unborn child. Months of in-ring and backstage trespasses seem meaningless now as he imagines how and why Flash committed his crimes. A tinge of doubt strikes him as he considers the isolated destruction of Pinky’s womb, though it only lasts a moment before Jack interrupts his thoughts.
Jack: You’re not sure if it was him.
Dune: I am...I just wish I knew how.
Jack: Would you like to know - would you like to see?
Two voices speak out from within. One pleads to be spared what are sure to be unforgettably gruesome images; the other begs to bear witness to Joey Flash’s guilt.
He turns.
Dune: Yes.
Jack grabs hold of his hand, and in so doing a vision overtakes his experience:
He’s back in the wastes, outside the Double X as Joey Flash and a group of masked outlaws prepare to storm the bar. A projectile explosive blasts a hole in the side of the building before Joey and the rest spill through, where the only resistance they meet is Chief - Pinky’s father and Dune’s good friend.
Dune shouts as Joey Flash raises his gun and takes aim at Chief’s head…
But his screams are silent, and the bullet blasts away the big native’s skull.
Pinky’s screams, on the other hand, are anything but silent. They claw at his ears as he watches on in a heated, adrenaline-fueled rage. A familiar feeling of powerlessness overcomes him - the same he felt the night his brother was slain while he watched on in binds - and he nearly loses his mind as his nightmarish premonitions begin to unfold.
Joey Flash calls the other men off as they back Pinky into a corner. “You’ll have your turn,” he says to them before grabbing hold of her chin. “But I get first taste.” She punches him square in the jaw, though he recovers in time to catch her arm as she flees. He throws her to the ground, where he falls on top of her and begins pummeling her face. When she’s finally unconscious, Joey begins unbuttoning her shirt...and Dune can take no more.
He reaches out for Flash with arms that aren’t there, and in his inability to save the one he loves, he lets out a furious, silent scream…
Which becomes audible as the vision fades and reality takes hold.
Beads of sweat are flung from his brow as he looks around in panic. He’s back in the Jaguar, and Jack hugs another tight corner along the winding, two-lane road as he speaks.
Jack: Now you see.
Regaining himself, Dune sits back stares ahead in horrible contemplation. In his silence, the Jackal continues.
Jack: Somewhere beneath the darkness that surrounds Joey Flash, there hides a fractured human being. I can help you break him, Dune. I can help you take away everything he is; everything he’s become...until all that’s left is the darkness. Is that what you want?
Normally Dune would give a resounding “no” and say that Flash was his and his alone in the ring at WAR...but the past couple hours have changed everything. Having witnessed the terrifyingly great albeit mysterious power of the Jackal, which at this point Dune doesn’t question the legitimacy of, the sadistic thought of Flash suffering by not only his hand but by the Jackal’s as well sounds all the more appealing.
Staring out at the road ahead, a single word escapes his lips.
Dune: Yes.
It’s opposite of the one Joey Flash uttered when posed with a similar offer in the desert. His denial of the Jackal had lead to the horrors that unfolded at the Double X...though Flash was innocent of any true guilt.
The Jackal smiles. His plans have gone off brilliantly. With Dune so utterly convinced that Flash committed the unspeakable atrocities that befell Pinky and her unborn child, he has the WCF World Champion in the palm of his hand. He steps on the gas, and we zoom out of the car as it speeds off into the night.
Killer Instinct
John Mullins finishes a cup of coffee as he stands in front of the T.V. He’s seen the news-story a hundred times since it happened just under a week before, and yet still it fascinates him.
Anchor: ...devastating events at the wedding of Joey Flash. Whether or not foul play was at hand isn’t a question, though at this point authorities haven’t given any information with regard to possible suspects.
He shuts the T.V. off and walks over to a nearby computer. His visit with Dune in NYC a few days prior runs through his mind as he tries to make sense of it all. He’d warned Dune about the Jackal, having dealt with him in the past while with the CIA, though their visit had ended with Dune firmly disbelieving the Jackal was a threat to him - or that he even existed - and that Joey Flash was the only person he needed to worry about.
But before Dune left NYC, Mullins managed to plant a tiny, translucent microphone on his mask. Now he pulls up the playback with the hopes of finding evidence linking the Jackal to the crime. He puts his headphones on and sifts through his conversation with Dune in route back to the airfield.
We pick up with WCF World Champion on board WCF One right where we left off last time: near the beginning of his tirade against Joey Flash for returning to the desert.
Dune: The Mojave awaits me now, Joey. Had I known you were going back , I would’ve stuck around to play a bit of cat and mouse before intercepting you again. We had a cordial enough visit the first time around - even if it was marred by tension and quarrels; even if you blindsided me and left me for dead in that little slice of hell called Satan’s Maw, where the magma seeps to the surface. Did you enjoy your stay, Joey? You must have, because apparently you’ve come back for a second visit.
But you’re not sightseeing. You’re not off on a vision quest or some bullshit like you were a few weeks ago. I know why you’re in the desert, Joey, and it’s because of me. I’m not being vain in my assumption; I’m only being logical. You’re not there to build me up though. You’ve come to burn me down, and I wouldn’t put it past you to try and do so by any means necessary. Months of baiting me on with in-ring interferences and sneak attacks backstage could only take you so far, and in your failure to do any sort of meaningful damage to my psyche, you changed the plan. You turned your attention away from me in favor of those I care for most in this world.
And it all began with Howard Black.
Sure you fucked over Occulo, but so did his father. For the crimes against Howard though, you bear the full brunt of the blame.
I remember it like it was yesterday, Joey. There I was in the Sentinels locker room. “I don’t want your help tonight, Dune,” Howard had said. “Flash and Fly are mine.” And I believed him. He was one of the greatest fighters I’d ever seen. But as the handicap match unfolded, and you clung to his arm after the final bell had rung, I couldn’t sit back and watch any longer. Out I ran, and there you were with your proposal: put my Title on the line and you’d put my partner down. I held up my end of the bargain...but you shattered Howie’s arm all the same.
Despite my undying hatred for you ever since, I’ll be the first to say it was a beautiful plan: get to the Champion by using the ones he holds most dear. And you did...because ever since the amplified echo of Howard’s arm snapping in half raped my ears, I’ve wanted nothing more than to meet you in the ring.
But you didn’t stop there. Next it was none other than Seth Lerch who helped you strike at me far beyond the finite boundaries of the squared circle. His no-physical-contact clause in our WAR contracts and subsequent request that each of us bring a personal friend to bear witness to the signing allowed you the perfect opportunity. You beat the piss out of my best friend and mentor, Freeman, and even though he’s taken far worse, it was another unforgivable trespass.
And now...now you’re in the desert, where I’m not.
Now the news of my unborn child growing in Pinky’s belly has spread.
And it just so happens that she’s the only one left on what must be a short list...not to mention the most vulnerable.
You piece of fucking shit. Don’t you dare, Joey. Don’t you...
God DAMN it!
Saying it from above the clouds makes me feel even more powerless. Just wait until I get down there you piece of shit. And if you’ve fled by the time I come looking and I don’t get my hands on you until WAR, so be it. Either way you’ll burn before this is over.
You’re so goddamn proud of yourself right now. You fancy yourself the cleverest motherfucker in the world for your changing of the plan - for trying to get at me through those I love. For as long as you could remember you were the smartest man in the room, but if I haven’t buried you beneath the sands by the time WAR rolls around, you won’t even be the smartest man in the ring. You’ve met your match and then some, Joey. Aside from a few humiliating and thus far career defining losses, sad as that is to say, you haven’t done much to bury yourself. In fact, you’re a hell of a fighter...but the same can be said of damn near everyone on the roster.
So don’t get it twisted, Joey. You’re not here because of your talent. You’re not the legitimate #2 man in the WCF - nor are you #1...but you know that. In targeting the pillars of my life - The Sentinels, Freeman...and god forbid, Pinky - you haven’t taken the upper hand; you haven’t seen the light, as you’d like to imagine. You’ve only deepened the darkness that’s fated to consume you.
What if I were like you, Joey? What if I weren’t the foremost talent in this industry and I was just a sniveling little cunt trying to get your attention. I could, you know. You’ve got friends and family too, Joey, and they’re embedded deep into the fabric of your life. But it wouldn’t be so hard to reap a bit of what you’ve sewn. I can think of just as many cruel things to do to Alessandre and little Christian as you could Pinky. How would you like that? I don’t think you would...but then again, I never thought you’d take our struggle so far beyond the ring. At this point, I’m not sure what to think of you.
Are you coming for her, Joey, as my gut tells me? Or is that just my nature fucking with me. I’ve never loved anyone I didn’t lose. I often find myself daydreaming of losing those close to me in unrealistically horrific ways. It’s strange...but it’s my nature, and I can only hope that’s what has me walking a razor’s edge.
But it’s possible to fool one’s nature. Right now, I’m imagining finding Pinky unharmed and waiting for me at home. With the sight of her, the past five hours I spent raving about you on a plane will have become meaningless. I can feel the relief washing over me now. I can feel her in my arms, vibrant and alive with the thought of our child and what’s to come of our future. As we embrace, there’s nothing withheld...
Yet as the tide of relief begins to ebb, another washes in - that of vengeance against Joey fucking Flash.
No matter what I find upon returning home, you’ll never escape my thoughts, Joey - not until I’ve done you in at WAR or sooner. Pray you last until the opening bell, because if I find you in the wastes after learning you’ve laid your hands on Pinky - a finger, even - it’ll be the last stop of a long, shameful, wasted life.
You should have died long ago, Joey. But just as steel bullets have torn holes in your body, my in-ring dominance of the WCF only served to tear holes in your mind; to infiltrate your psyche...unlike your fighting ability could ever do to mine. But that’s because I’m not like you, Joey. I don’t need to act out to get attention. All I’ve got to do is step in the ring and let my killer instinct take over. Once that happens, no one’s safe...least of all you.
Mullins pauses the recording. “Not a word of the Jackal,” he thinks to himself, but there’s still plenty of audio left.
He reflects on Dune’s words to Joey Flash in hindsight of what happened on the day of Flash’s wedding. A visible shudder passes through him before he rises from his seat to make a cup of coffee. The camera remains fixated on his desk, and after a few seconds the screen fades to black.
Trailblazer
A dim light fades in to reveal a sea of sand beneath a canopy of stars. We pan over, and the face of the Jackal overtakes the screen. He smiles to hear the telltale sounds of a struggle closeby. We turn with him as he walks toward it. Up ahead, a group of outlaws separate a young man and a teenaged boy. They’re brothers, and it’s been 15 years since the last time we saw them together on the night their parents were murdered.
The Jackal closes on the chaos, and his form begins to dematerialize to all but us. He walks unseen past some outlaws as they beat the older Sean, and he smiles as he turns to see the 15 year old Dune being bound to a stake. While the others turn their attention to Sean, the Jackal walks toward Dune. He inspects his face as he draws near, reaching out and running his hand down his unblemished jawline from ear to ear. Dune feels only a slight tingling, and he shivers as he shouts at his brother’s handlers.
Dune: Leave him alone you motherfuckers!
In the blink of an eye the Jackal shoots into the body of the outlaw leader,who turns his attention from Sean to Dune. The possessed man walks over and grabs his chin before raising a blade. He’s about to dig in when Dune speaks up.
Dune: Don’t do this.
The Jackal smiles from within.
Jackal: Oh, but I must.
He tears into Dune’s face, giving him a crimson mask and shredding it beyond repair before turning back to Sean. He doesn’t hesitate to jab the very same blade up under his sternum, wrenching it out only to jab it back in up under the ribs near his heart. The wounds ensure that death is imminent, and the Jackal transfers himself from the outlaw to Sean. He senses the overwhelming pain shooting through him, though he himself is immune to it’s crippling barbs.
Jackal: I haven’t been HERE in awhile. You remember me, don’t you?
In shock from the pain, Sean manages two final words.
Sean: Save him.
Jackal: That’s the idea.
Confusion becomes his final experience before drifting away into unconsciousness . Meanwhile, amidst the agonizing screams of Dune, the Jackal departs his dying vessel and strolls casually toward the door to the brothers’ subterranean abode just a few feet away. Hell hounds bay from within - three of them - and he crouches down before whispering through the heavy boards.
Jackal: Let me in.
In an instant he’s taken control of one of the three rottweilers - the same one he would possess in the weeks leading up to WAR - and the shot fades out as they break the door down and begin to scatter the outlaws.
We fade back in a few minutes later.
Blood spills from Dune’s freshly butchered face as he kneels beside his brother and two of his three dogs, who by now are gone forever. He’s alone aside from the only companion he has left...or so he thinks.
As the camera pans over and zooms out, we see the Jackal standing over Dune’s shoulder in the dark of night, smiling at the trail he’s blazed for the future WCF World Champion.
With the image, the screen cuts to black.
Uninvited
Back in the present day, Dune and the Jackal emerge from the winding, tree-lined road they’d been traveling down for hours. The sun has come up, though it’s still early morning. Dune begins to snap out of a dreamlike haze as the Jaguar speeds through the fog. It seems like it was only moments ago that he was holding Pinky in the desert, staring down at her broken face and the grisly wounds Joey Flash inflicted upon her navel...or so he remains convinced. But all the while, the guilty party sits beside him.
Dune turns to Jack, breaking a long spell of silence that he’s just now become aware of.
Dune: Where are we going?
The Jackal nods ahead as they round a bend to reveal their destination: a huge glass city and the sprawl that surrounds it.
Jackal: New York, New York.
Dune: Why?
Jackal: To find and kill Joey Flash, of course. Why else?
A flood of memories comes rushing over him: the rage he’d felt upon realizing his unborn son was dead as Pinky slipped into a coma; throwing Freeman to the ground and leaving him bleeding and unconscious as he fled to the airfield; the Jackal cutting him off at the crossroads…
Dune: How do you plan to do it? And where? I want Flash to pay for what he’s done more than anyone, but we can’t just kill him in the middle of the fucking city.
“We.”
Something about the word isn’t right.
Something about this whole thing isn’t right.
Jackal: Don’t worry - we’ll get to that in due time.
Dune: Why are you so eager to help me find him? What’s he done to you?
Jackal: Nothing. It’s the thrill of the hunt, I suppose. Plus, he’s guilty, Dune, and I’m a man of vengeance. I’m the one who helped you seek it when your brother was murdered before you. I’ve had my eye on you for a long time, and now we’ve come to the brink.
Dune: The brink of what?
Jackal: War.
He thinks of what he’s gotten himself into, stuck alone with this man - this THING - whose awe-inducing power is pervaded by a cold, foreboding darkness. Dune had clung to it in his immediate rage, though now it sets off alarm signals in his mind. The Jackal hears them too.
Jackal: Don’t worry, Dune. There won’t be any witnesses. And I’ll save him just for you. I won’t lay a single hand on his poor, sobbing head.
Dune: What do you mean you’ve had your eye on me for a long time? What do you mean you’ve -
The Jackal grabs hold of Dune’s hand, and once more a vision overtakes his experience. It’s similar to the one we saw at the outset, though the Jackal has changed it to his liking. It shows Sean cradling Dune in his arms moments after his parents were killed as the Jackal watches on from afar, never interacting with the brothers.
The vision fades to another - the one we’ve just come out of, though again the Jackal has seen fit to change it so as to keep up the ruse that he’s on Dune’s side. The Jackal stands beside Dune in support as the unpossessed outlaw leader butchers his face then proceeds to murder his older brother. Just as the dogs break through, reality takes hold once more.
But the visions don’t have the same convincing effect as they did the first time, and Dune shoots his head toward the Jackal in fury.
Dune: What the fuck are you?!
Jackal: Shh...no need to shout. I’m right here - right by your side where I’ve always been.
Dune reaches over and grabs him by his collar before yanking him in.
Dune: Tell me now!
Jackal: I’m not the Devil, if that’s what you’re thinking.
Dune: No - you’re my “guardian angel,” right?
Jackal: Now you’re gettin’ it.
Dune: And how so, because you watched my parents die? Because you watched as my face was torn and flayed; watched as my brother died a slow and agonizing death?!
He throws Dune back against the passenger door, nearly shattering the half-open window.
Jackal: No - because I made them die; I made your face into what it’s become...and in so doing I made you into what you’ve become.
An expression of demonic rage comes over the Jackal’s face before he grabs hold of Dune’s hand once more. This time, the visions he shows Dune are the ones that truly unfolded - the ones we were privy too earlier: the murder of his parents and the possession of his brother; the butchering of his face and the murder of his brother…
Reality takes hold, and Dune doesn’t hesitate to strike. Despite the speeding Jaguar, he throws a series of punches that would have otherwise killed a man...and yet none of them make contact with the Jackal. He laughs as he continues driving toward the glass city far off in the distance.
Jackal: We made a deal, Dune. There’s no turning back now!
Dune reaches for him, once more grabbing only air and the smooth leather seat.
Jackal: You said it yourself: Blood; vengeance;death. The most memorable day of Joey Flash’s life has dawned...
Dune grabs hold of the wheel.
Jackal: ...and I’m not talking about his wedding.
With a powerful thrust of his arm, Dune spins the wheel, sending the Jaguar down a steep grade into a ditch. His head slams against the dash, and bright, flashing colors fill his vision upon impact before fading to reveal the driver’s seat is empty. Dune falls out of the car and looks around for the Jackal, but he’s nowhere in sight. A patch of dark woods lies before him, and he makes his way into the trees in hopes of evading him.
“He penetrates the mind, Dune. Then he takes the body.”
The words of John Mullins ring out in his head as he makes his way deeper into the forest...just as the Jackal would have it. Dune begins a 360 degree scan of the trees, though he only gets about halfway before he sees the man who brought him here. The Jackal looks less human than ever now. His eyes are red and gleaming, and his form is a black shadow compared to the pale flesh of before.
Dune remains frozen against his will as the Jackal closes in silently, his feet never touching the ground. When he’s only a few inches from Dune’s half-masked face, he speaks in a hushed, multi-toned voice, each so deep as to almost be inaudible.
Jackal: We had a deal, Dune.
He runs his shadowy fingers down Dune’s mask just as he’d done to his unscarred face years ago - before butchering it and murdering his older brother. He stares through Dune’s icy blue eyes as he speaks a final phrase.
Jackal: Now let me in.
And the screen cuts to black.
Game Changer
John Mullins shuffles through an old file folder, a fresh cup of coffee at his desk. He finds the right one, and he closes the drawer and sets it on his laps as he reaches for his mug. After a sip, he reaches out and fumbles with the mouse. The screensaver fades and he pulls up the audio recording of Dune we heard part of earlier. He presses “play,” and we pick up with the WCF World Champion where we left off.
Dune: You changed the game, Joey.
You did so in your attempts to provoke me by going after the ones I love. I warned you. I told you this would end at WAR if you reigned it in and stayed the course. It was a simple task, Joey - one you would have benefitted greatly from had you completed it - but it proved too much for you.
You just had to go back to the desert; you just had to get another taste.
But for now I’m going to forget about you being so near to Pinky and my unborn child. The man in me says you aren’t so cruel as to harm a hair on her head...but something worse inside me says otherwise - a darkness I can’t quite grasp. But it grows, Joey. Even now as I near the wastes, I can feel it’s cold spreading through me. That’s the kind of man you are: one who inspires hatred and hostilities, the very thing man as a species has had to overcome to reach the heights we’re at today. But then again, war is inevitable on every scale of humanity. There’s always going to be someone whose jealousy, envy, and greed get the best of them; whose monstrous ego can only be ignored by the masses for so long.
That’s you, Joey. I am what you aspire to be - the greatest fighter in the world - and that maddens you to no end. All the time you spent running drugs and sucking dick for the mafia didn’t make you into the overinflated ego maniac you’ve become though. No, you just happened to stumble into a fucking gym and realize you were the best fighter amongst a herd of absolute shit. That’s what started it all. You beat up on some winos and inner city group-home motherfuckers back in the day and BAM greatest fighter in the world.
What were you fighting for in the gym, Joey - your life? No. You weren’t there out of necessity. You enjoyed it. It gave you that boost you needed - that little bit of reassurance that kept you going. In a life that had crumbled to the ground and would have otherwise been washed far out to sea, the fight is all that kept you anchored to the shore.
It’s that same fight that marks the only dividing-line of our clashing worlds. It’s all we have in common. The only difference is, I didn’t grow up fighting for fun; I did so to stay alive.
You’ve done that a few times as well, though not against such an efficient killing machine as me. And make no mistake, Joey: I will fucking kill you if I return home to find my world in ashes, as I know deep down is one of your burning desires. Because in your mind, with my world turned to ruin, your ultimate goal of shining in the spotlight as WCF World Champion becomes that much more attainable…
But you’re wrong, Joey.
How could making me want to straight up end your life in the ring play to your advantage? Because you want my best? You would have gotten that had we kept all this between the ropes you fucking ass. Now you’ve crossed into another realm though. Unlike you, I didn’t learn how to fight in a gym with safety gear and a tampon in. My first fight was my first kill, and I can assure you fighting for the opportunity to live past the next few minutes is far more intense and impactful than fighting not to get punched in your headgear by a hand wrapped in a goddamn pillow. Your training may have made you better, but it didn’t make you the best. It only fooled you into believing so.
What a cruel jest that is...though you’re not alone in falling for it. There’s thousands of you, Joey - guys who came in gunning for the top and just couldn’t pull the fucking trigger. That’s you. You can aim at me all you want. You can blast away my brothers Occulo and Howard Black; my mentor Freeman...even Pinky and my unborn child, if that IS what you’re up to in the desert as I remain powerless aboard this plane...but you’ll never sink the killing blow in me, Flash. You’ll never bring me down to the darkness I’m set to plunge you in at WAR, or sooner if need be. After all, if history is any indication, down is exactly what you get when your truly mediocre ability is exposed for all to see.
After you lost the TV Title to Grime…
The name hangs in the air, and even Mullins can’t help but laugh at the memory.
Dune: ...you sunk into a black pit of depression. You even went so far as to try and change your very nature and demeanor. But somewhere during the process of rewiring yourself to become a decent human being, you got bored and tired of the true chore it had become. That wasn’t you, Joey. Just like that wasn’t you in the ring against Grime...or so you convinced yourself. But that was you, as is the man who’s been struggling ever since.
You peaked, Joey. Does that scare you? It’s the truth. The few months you spent in the company during 2014 were far better to you than any point in 2015 has been as a whole. You built yourself up quite nicely by the turn of the new year, Joey. Funny then how you’ve never been the same since I came around in late December.
Your body hasn’t changed though, and that leaves only one thing that could have: your mind.
I fuck with you, don’t I, Joey? My unrivaled talent, I mean. You rage to see it; you want it to be yours. But it can’t be, and neither can what it’s brought me; what’s been around my waist since May: the WCF World Title. I’m not Natural Ice Beckman - the man every wrestler in this Federation aside from Bobby Cairo failed to stop for over a year before I came along. It only took me five months to topple the hollow giant each and every one of you allowed him to become, and in place of him on the throne there sits the greatest WCF World Champion of all time.
I don’t beg for attention between every match on Slam like naive bitches expect a Champion to do. All I do is go out and dominate my opponent every time I step between the ropes. That’s what a true Champion does. So be my guest if you want to eat sour grapes like every other butt-hurt established guy I came in after and absolutely wrecked in the ring. I can’t help but laugh at that shit. I find it baffling...but then again, I’ve never convinced myself I was better than everyone else only to be proven otherwise time and again. Just look at their names, Joey - go down the roster and say them aloud...but make sure to save yours for last. That’s not to say you’re the best of the fallen...but you’re certainly the most deserving to be among their ranks.
And now you think you’re going to come along and dethrone me, even after seeing all the carnage I’ve left in my wake since January. I’d pity you if I didn’t want to see you broken for it.
Consider it done.
There’s a darkness inside everyone. You’ve summoned mine. Even if I find that those few I hold dear to my heart are safe from your ill-fated touch when I get home, you’ve awoken something deep within that can never be put back and sealed until I’ve been given the chance to let loose on you in the ring.
WAR, Joey - the last stop on what’s been a long and unpleasant ride since the springtime thaw. You’ve had your fun along the way...now it’s time I had mine. And wouldn’t you know it, the sort of fun I get off on as a grown man hasn’t changed since I was a child. While you were shoving G.I. Joe’s up your ass and running drugs for the mafia, I was honing the very skills that enabled me to ascend to the top of WCF Mountain faster than damn near anyone in this company’s great history; to reign from on high more convincingly than any other World Champion before me.
But the darkness is real, Joey, and the one that spreads through me is wrought of your trespasses. You ignored the parameters; you strayed too far from home.
You changed the game, Joey.
Now it’s my turn.
A long silence follows the words, and even in his hatred for Joey Flash, John Mullins sheds a tear as he contemplates Dune's words upon recalling the day of Joey’s wedding. The camera zooms out slowly before it fades into another.
Trapped in the Void
The desert.
Of course. Where else?
But we’re not in the Mojave, or any other desert on Earth for that matter.
Dune walks toward the horizon, though a change has overcome him. The mask we’ve come to associate with him is gone, and in its place is a smooth, unblemished jawline. He’s not entirely unbearable to look upon without the butchered flesh that’s always made him so. In fact he’s quite handsome...but his looks won’t serve him here.
Why?
Because he’s utterly alone - trapped in an infinitely small pocket of his own mind…
Trapped in the void by the Jackal.
“He penetrates the mind, Dune. Then he takes the body.”
The WCF World Champion continues to walk atop the seemingly endless sands, knowing that if he makes it to the horizon everything will be fixed...but such is the spell he’s under. For not only is he wholly unaware of what needs fixing, but he doesn’t even know himself. Nor is he aware of his memory lapse. He just walks...and walks...
We pan over to see he’s making no progress whatsoever. He’s merely walking in place, and as he strides on intently, we begin to zoom out...and out...until he becomes a mere speck atop an unbroken sea of golden sand. Still we zoom out, faster now, and darkness overtakes the sands before we pass through a gleaming, wet barrier.
It’s an eyeball, and the iris is icy blue.
It’s that of Dune, and soon his true face fills the screen. He reaches back and unclasps his mask, slowly revealing the gruesome scars beneath. A sinister smile creeps up his butchered cheeks. It’s a monstrous sight - one only the Jackal could conjure up - and he glares into the lens with devastation in mind as he speaks.
Dune: Here I come, Joey.
And we fade to black.
(OOC: Read Joey Flash’s 3rd WAR promo first to get the full effect!)
[/span][/div]
Koyaanisqatsi (ko-yaa-nis-katsi): Life in turmoil
“Day of wrath - that dreadful day - will bury the world in ashes.” - Dies Irae (Day of Wrath)
“Reduce it all to ash.” - Joey Flash
War within a Breath
Dusk settles on an abandoned town in the middle of nowhere. It was once an army satellite-base for families during the days of nuclear-bomb testing in the Mojave, but the enormous magma basin that sits beneath it was already creeping toward the surface by the time it was completed. The locals call it Satan’s Maw, and it’s long been said that the bombs themselves triggered the upwelling magma that spills out as lava, which too, like man’s greatest folly, destroys everything in it’s path.
The shot fades to another. It’s Dune, though he walks down the main drag of the burned-down town without his mask. His face is difficult to behold even when drowned in shadow.
But while on the surface he may look the same, something has infiltrated his mind and taken over his body: the Jackal - another phenomenon born of the nuclear blasts...though born may not be the best wording. Awoken serves better, or perhaps summoned. Either way, the innate desire for chaos that reigns within man is what fuels this extra-dimensional being, and he seeks it out and causes it wherever he goes.
From within, the Jackal pulls the strings and slows Dune to a stop. He turns to face the lens as he speaks.
Dune: How are you, Joseph? The wedding must have taken a lot out of you - it certainly took a lot FROM you. And to have endured such tragedy with your long-dreamt-of World Title match less than a day away. Shame, isn't’ it?
The Jackal cracks a smile.
Dune: Don’t play the fool - you know who this is. I’m one you’ll never forget. You should have followed me when I offered you the chance in the desert. We could have ruined Dune together, and I could have left you alone for all-time. I could have given you the world, Joseph. Instead you chose death.
So I’ll ask again: how are you, Joseph - how you feeling?
I could come and find out if I wanted to. I could come and infiltrate that pathetic mind of yours and get a real feel for all the pain and anguish that’s surely got you crippled and in a corner by now. Or maybe you’re angry by now - like I sincerely hope you are. I hope you’re mad as hell at what happened on what should have been the best day of your life. You’ve got a fight on the horizon - the fight of your life - and you’ll need all the help you can get to survive it.
I’ll be at WAR too, just like I was at your wedding a week ago. What a lovely affair it was: the fire; the screams; the death. There’ll be more of the same tomorrow night in the ring. Had it only been you and Dune it may have been a lesser affair...but I’m going to help liven it up a bit. In this vessel, I have the most powerful fighter in the world. You claim to be quicker - more precise - but apparently you haven’t seen Dune move. And with me behind the controls, there’s no telling what sort of damage I can inflict on the twig of a man you are. The man who rose to the top of the WCF may have been unrivaled in talent and tenacity on his own, but now he’s got the ultimate P.E.D. on his side. Thankfully your filthy-rich boss doesn’t test for my kind.
But don’t worry. I won’t let Dune go unpunished. After all, he was anything but cooperative during the whole ordeal, aside from the very outset when I met him at the crossroads. It was just after he found Pinky and his unborn child dead by your hand...or so he was so eager to presume. And though he eventually caught on, there was nothing he could do to change your fate...much as he tried. And he did try, Joey - as fruitlessly as you tried to save his unborn child in the desert. If I had any compassion whatsoever it would have brought me to tears to see him in the aftermath...but in truth it only made me lust for more.
He might not fight you without my help, Joseph. In truth, I’ve broken him. Have I broken you?
If not, I will with this body in the ring. It’s gonna be a real back and forth battle that night. From the Champ to the Challenger I’ll shift, turning the tides of the match each time. You’ll never know you were capable of such carnage as when I’m controlling your otherwise ill-used machine. And while I’m laying into Dune as Joey Flash, I won’t have to wonder how you’re feeling; I’ll know. But then again, I already have a fairly good idea. It’s likely the same you felt when I took control of you in the desert:
Hollow.
Empty.
Alone.
Ring a bell, Joseph? Yeah - you know what I’m talking about.
You’re hollow inside just like your words. You’re empty of anything good aside from learned-compassion, which makes a fine enough substitute for the real thing...but only for so long. The so-called love you feel for others isn’t rooted in anything solid because you grew up without it. That’s why the saying “this too shall pass” will prove especially true for you after seeing with your own eyes what Dune did on your wedding day. And yet you’ve convinced yourself your heart isn’t empty and black, just like you’ve convinced yourself that you’re actually a better fighter than all the rest in your pathetic Federation.
You may have been alone your whole life, Joseph - even in the most crowded of rooms; the most crowded of cities - but you won’t be alone in the ring at WAR. I’ll be there...but you’ll find I give no quarter to those who’ve snubbed my gracious offer of partnership. I don’t extend my hand to many, and in turning it down you doomed yourself to a worse fate at WAR than the already brutal one you would have suffered otherwise.
I could have given you everything, Joseph - the World Title included. But you chose death. Dune delivered on that promise for me, so don’t expect any different when I promise that you won’t be walking away from WAR tomorrow night with the Title around your waist.
Besides...a bit of gold can’t save you now. WAR may be the end of your clumsy climb to the brink, but it’s not the end of the world. That, unfortunately, is a long ways off. But for you, it may as well be. Because I’ll always be here to watch over you, Joseph.
Always.
Dune’s voice cuts off as the Jackal stops speaking. His icy blue eyes smile atop his shredded lips, gleaming in the moonlight as he turns and walks off-screen. A bit of lava seeps to the surface in the distance, and we cut to it before zooming in on its fiery glow. When it fills the screen, the shot segues into another.
Hitman
A low-burning ember is all we see. In zooming out slowly, a thin black line that marks its spherical boundary makes itself known. A column of smoke dances up from the ember, which comes to life as a surge of oxygen rushes through it. The background is dark and out of focus, and it remains ill-lit even when it begins to shift and come into view. A man hidden in shadow flicks at the cigarette now shown in full and exhales a cloud of smoke before we cut away.
Two men sit at a table. One we know: the Jackal - but the other is a stranger. He goes by Sam, and he takes another drag from his cigarette before he speaks.
Sam: It’s dirty.
Jackal: I didn’t say it’d be clean.
Sam: It’s her wedding for fuck’s sake.
Jackal: And the entire Allegri family will be there to see Alessandra wed Joey Malignaggi - your primary target, the boss Bernardo, included. The big daddy, so to speak.
The Jackal winks his way, then turns to a corner out of the shot to make sure everything’s still in order. It is, and he turns back to Sam.
Sam: Why should I allow some schlub to manipulate the chessboard like this. The balance of power is fragile. The Allegri’s may be the top family in Sicily right now, but say you help me take them out - what are you gonna want down the line when I’m running the show?
Jackal: Nothing. My client only wants one thing, and he’ll have it before night falls on the day of the wedding.
Sam: I don’t believe you.
Jackal: Oh come now, you’re being paranoid. Are you saying no to the opportunity to become the most powerful man in Italy; to becoming even more exorbitantly rich than you already are today? We’re talking hundreds of millions of dollars for you LITERALLY overnight...and the power. Just think of it, “Sam.”
The Jackal smiles, knowing full well his true identity. “Sam” remains silent, and the Jackal speaks up as he assesses his commitment to the hit.
Jackal: Power isn’t given, Sam. It’s taken.
Sam: Alright, well what’s in it for you then, Jack? I mean...who are you besides a guy with a lot of money to spare up front?
Jackal: I am no one. I merely represent my client.
He turns his focus to the man sitting off screen.
Jackal: And I think you can guess what he’s after.
Sam: I don’t know. I’m not convinced the time is right...
Jackal: I know what’s holding you up: the thought of the repercussions. But if we do this right - and believe me, we will - there won’t be anyone of significance left in the Allegri family to come after you and yours. You’ll be able to plug yourself into the top spot and run the business as you see fit without fear or worry of retaliation. Take the power, Sam. Do the right thing here.
After a moment of hesitation, he answers.
Sam: GodDAMN it’s dirty...but I’m in. So long as you promise my anonymity should things go south with your client.
Jackal: Of course...but don’t expect any hitches to go off. When it comes to killers, none are so efficient and calculated as him.
The Jackal smiles as he holds out his hand. The two shake and rise from their chairs. In the light, we see “Sam’s” face for the first time. It’s handsome and vaguely familiar, and his tall, thin frame adds to his almost feminine appeal.
His name is Paolo Allegri - future brother-in-law of Joey Malignaggi and son of Bernardo Allegri, the boss of the most powerful crime family in Sicily.
Jackal: See? That wasn’t so hard. I knew it wouldn’t take long for you to see reason.
Paolo: What about HIM?
He once more turns his attention off-screen.
Jackal: What ABOUT him?
Paolo: What’s he gonna do?
Jackal: Don’t worry about the finer details. He’s been killing all his life; it’s what he does best. He’ll take care of your father, but like you there’s one he targets above all others:
The Jackal turns and looks over his shoulder before we cut to a dark corner where their sightlines meet. There, the WCF World Champion sits in a wooden chair, apparently unconscious as his half-masked face rests atop the shelf his massive chest provides.
Jackal: Joey Flash.
Paolo: What’s he - asleep or something?
Jackal: Or something.
The two stare at each other. It doesn’t take long for the Jackal’s gaze to make Paolo feel incredibly ill at ease. He looks away just in time to see Dune twitch in his chair, and the Jackal turns to see him do it again. He glares at the sight before continuing.
Jackal: Then it’s a deal, Sam. From here, my client will take over, and from him you can expect nothing less than flawless execution. But I’m afraid for now you should be going. He’s been under constant strain of late, and when he comes to I can’t guarantee he’ll be in a welcoming mood. It’s Flash you see...he murdered his unborn child.
Says the man who murdered Dune’s unborn child. Though Paolo is none the wiser. The Jackal ushers him out of the room, then turns toward Dune as the door closes behind him. The WCF World Champion trembles in his chair as the Jackal’s form begins to fade. He closes the gap between them, and just as Dune’s eyes flick open, he utters three words.
Jackal: Let me in.
His ethereal form melts into Dune’s, and an internal struggle ensues. We zoom in on one of his agony-laced eyes at an exponentially faster rate until finally the darkness at the center overcomes the screen.
Waters Dark and Deep
Dune comes to as the otherworldly pain subsides, though light doesn’t greet his frame of vision. In fact he has no eyes to see; no hands to feel his body and assure it’s there. He has a voice though, if only audible to his possessor.
Dune: You can’t keep this game up forever, you know.
Jackal: Why not?
Dune: Because I know how to win, and as soon as that happens - game over.
Jackal: Shh...you can’t win.
Dune isn’t panicked. He knows what’s happened: yet again he’s proven incapable of stopping the Jackal from invading his mind and overtaking his body. And so the WCF World Champion is bound within once more.
He lost himself the first time - forgot who he was entirely as he walked in place on the sands for what seemed like an eternity - but finally a spark ignited to reveal a glimpse of the horrible reality that had befallen him. In a flash he had remembered everything with crystal-clear clarity: Joey Flash in the desert; the Jackal intercepting them both for the same purpose - the destruction of the other. Flash refused, yet when the Jackal convinced Dune that Joey was guilty of murdering his unborn child, Dune accepted.
But as Dune’s murderous rage became a slightly more rational one, he began to question the Jackal’s intentions. In turn he was shown false visions that convinced him of Flash’s guilt, but soon the Jackal showed him true ones; ones that showed the Jackal possessing the outlaw who butchered Dune’s face and proceeded to murder his brother long ago, and Dune realized he’d made a terrible mistake in aligning himself with the Jackal. He fled, but he didn’t get far before his mind was infiltrated for the first time.
“Let me in.”
And he was trapped inside...as he is now. Here he has no concept of time. Here there is nothing aside from his thoughts, as if he were some god in a void awaiting creation.
Dune: Let me out.
Jackal: I will, but not yet. Only when the time is right.
Dune: And when’s that? What the fuck are you planning?!
Jackal: Blood;vengeance;death - my part of the deal. Yours was simply to let me in, which you’ve been so gracious about. I’d feel awful if I didn’t deliver upon what you’d asked of me in the desert.
Dune: Leave Joey Flash out of this!
Jackal: Far too late for that, I’m afraid.
Dune isn’t lost inside his mind though - not anymore. Freed of having to focus his consciousness on the outside world, he soon found that here, every thought or experience was instantly accessible. Now he travels far back in time before a voice rings out in the void. It’s one he’s heard before, but only as an infant.
Mother: Daniel...Daniel…
Her maternal chords are ingrained in his mind, and he accesses them at will. It’s as if she’s right beside him as she repeats the name given to him at birth. Her voice soothes his troubles, though he doesn’t linger long. He has one goal: to break free, and the words of John Mullins are all he has to go on.
“I’ve been inside his mind, and the only way to beat him is at his own game.”
Jackal: Don’t even try it. You won’t like what you find there - believe me.
But at that moment he breaks through to the Jackal’s mind...and in it nothing is withheld from him. Most of the information is either useless or far beyond a human level of understanding, though he learns a bitter truth that stabs at his insides and brings him to knees that aren’t there. In seeing the Jackal murder his unborn child - in seeing Joey Flash try his damndest to save Pinky in the aftermath - he retreats out of the Jackal’s mind.
Jackal: I warned you.
Dune is speechless with horrible realization. The Jackal smiles from without before speaking to his vessel within.
Jackal: Don’t let your temporary blindness at the crossroads get you down. I often have that effect on people. You’re all so weak - so easily manipulated - from embryo to death…
Dune: Shut the fuck up.
Jackal: I didn’t want to kill him, Dune. And it was a “he”, for what it’s worth. He would’ve been special, just like his father. I felt as much as the life drained out of him along with the blood that drained from his mother’s womb.
Dune: SHUT THE FUCK UP!
Silence. A few seconds of it pass...or perhaps a lifetime. Dune can’t tell. From the void, he gathers his thoughts on Joey Flash, realizing the extreme error of his ways, and in the darkness his voice rings out.
Dune: Joey...can you hear me? I doubt you can, but if the Jackal’s words of, “Let me in,” have formed some sort of communicative-wormhole between us, and you can even sense the severity of this message, don’t fail to heed it’s warning. He’s coming, Joey. I don’t know what he plans to do, but I can assure you it’s far worse than anything you or I could imagine.
I’m not a god-fearing man. I don’t believe in that bullshit. But this whole experience is making me reconsider everything. If there is a god up there, I pray he watches over you in the coming hours. I’m the only other who knows the Jackal has you in his sights, and I’m going to do everything I can to stop him. Still - you’re not safe, Joey. Neither is your family. He mentioned your wedding before he took over.
Call it off.
Can you fucking hear me, Joey? Call it off!
He’s coming, and it’s under the ruse of reaping vengeance from you in my name that he closes on you and yours as I speak. It’s blood he wants; it’s death.
Maybe it’s too late already. Maybe he’s ruined your wedding day in whichever way he’s seen fit. If so, I hope you’re alright, Joey, even though you’ve been nothing but a straight razor through my cockhead since April. But I can forgive you of everything in light of what’s happened...
I haven’t seen her since the day you tried to save her. Thank you, Joey. I saw what you did, and I can never thank you enough. Though I don’t hope to remain in your debt forever. I’m going to get out of here - break free of these binds. I don’t know how I’m going to do it. I’m told there’s only one way out: through the mind of the Jackal.
But know this, Joey: to save you - to save the ones you love - I’d swim through any waters, dark and deep as they may be. I’d do anything to keep him from you, and if I have to sacrifice myself to do so, I’d gladly end it all.
He’s coming, Joey...but I won’t let him get to you.
I promise.
Silence once more. It continues for a few seconds, and it fades into delicate music as the darkness breaks.
Dies Irae (Day of Wrath) I
Maurice Ravel’s “Pavane pour une infante defunte” plays in the background as we open on St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York City. What appears to be a joyous affair is brought down by the somber tones of the tune, though the herd of people filtering into the church don’t seem to hear it. They hug and laugh and make their way inside, where the wedding of Joseph Malignaggi and Alessandre Allegri is set to take place.
We cut to an elderly gentlemen as he makes his way up the cathedral steps. It’s Bernardo Allegri - the most powerful man in Sicily and Joey’s soon-to-be father-in-law. He walks beside his beautiful wife, almost the spitting image of her daughter, even now. She has no idea that these are the last moments she’ll be spending with her beloved husband as they make their way beneath the great doors.
Within is a who’s-who of powerful crime-family members of every variety. Loyalties to the Sicilian Allegri’s are set aside for a few hours as they all gather to celebrate the wedding of the boss’ daughter.
Bernardo speaks with a few other high ranking crimelords when a young boy stumbles into the circle and hugs at his knee.
Christian Malignaggi: Found you!
Bernardo Allegri: You sure did!
He bends down and picks the young boy up as his nanny for the day runs over.
Nanny: I’m so sorry, Mr. Allegri.
Bernardo Allegri: For what? There’s no one I’d rather see at this moment or any other than this young man. Gentlemen, meet my grandson, Christian Malignaggi.
Each man laughs and shakes the four year old son of Joey Flash’s hand as we pan away. We leave the crowd and enter the cathedral’s main hall. It’s architectural beauty is profound, and we lift up toward the marvelous ceiling before a thin balcony hidden in shadow comes into view. Two men sit atop it. One is the Jackal as we’ve come to know him; the other wears a dark hood that covers his face. His identity remains a mystery until he speaks.
Dune: You can’t do this.
He looks up at the Jackal, revealing his butchered, unmasked face.
Jackal: I can, and I will.
Dune tries to move, but he remains frozen as he’d been since waking up here hours before.
Jackal: Let this be a lesson to you: never make promises you can’t keep. You can’t stop what’s going to happen in the next few hours; you can’t save Joey Flash from his fate...or yours, for that matter.
Dune: HEL-
The Jackal’s face goes sour as he silences Dune’s attempt to rouse the attention of somebody - anybody - though the echo dies unheard. The Jackal stands and creeps toward Dune.
Jackal: What’d I say? Obey me. You don’t do such a good job of that.
Paralyzed completely now, Dune’s wrath has nowhere to displace itself. Still the Jackal closes.
Jackal: I gave you a chance. I allowed you to have your body and mind back. But you can’t follow the simplest instruction. You’re a bit too wilful for my liking, and I’m afraid I’ll have to correct you before it gets out of hand. Now let me in.
Blackness overtakes the screen, but it doesn’t last long.
Music fades in once more, though instead of a song of death, we hear the familiar tones of “Here comes the bride.” The stunning Alessandre Allegri walks toward Joseph Malignaggi, who stands humbled by her presence upon the alter.
We cut to a shot of what Joey sees: his beautiful wife coming toward him; his four year old son smiling on...though what he doesn’t see is the shadow up high in the rafters. We begin to zoom in on it, and as the crowd of mafia crime lords and their not-so innocent loved ones falls below the frame, the figure comes into view. It’s the WCF World Champion, and he looks down on the wedding wearing a sinister expression he’s never donned before.
But that’s because this isn’t Dune; it’s the Jackal. And now, for the first time, he’s allowing his vessel to see what he sees while possessing his body.
Dune stares out through his own eyes, powerless to move his body as the Jackal projects his voice inward.
Jackal: Ah, you’re awake. Took longer this time. You’ll be glad to hear the explosives are triggered and the gunmen are ready.
Dune takes in the crowd below as he tries to make sense of the situation.
Dune: God damn you! Stop this! This isn’t what I called for in the desert! This isn’t what I wanted!
Jackal: It’s what you’ll get.
Dune: Joey! JOEY!!
Jackal: He can’t hear you. No one can.
Dune looks down at his long time rival, seen now in a different light. He’s gone from a man he wanted simply to pin in the ring, to a man he wanted to murder for killing his unborn child, to a man he wanted nothing more than to aid in this desperate hour. But again, as before in another desperate hour long ago, he remains bound and powerless to act.
Dune: Take me instead! What’s one life for another? Joey has a family - a child! He -
He cuts off, and the Jackal laughs in understanding.
Jackal: A child he has, indeed.
Dune: No. Please, no.
Jackal: Shh...they’re about to say their vows.
Dune: Not him too. Leave him out of this! Take me god damnit! Take me - not his child!
Jackal: Christian’s his name. But don’t worry - I’ll introduce you to him soon enough. Quiet, the time is almost here.
Dune: You’ve murdered one child already! You slaughtered my unborn son - wasn’t that enough?!
Jackal: Eye for an eye; tooth for a tooth. I have to maintain the balance, Daniel. And after I’ve broken the both of you, we’ll go to WAR in the ring. There you can explain to Flash how you murdered his child. Are you up for it? Because unlike you, he won’t find out the truth. I’m going to make damn sure he sees the man who reduced his world to ash in a single moment.
Dune: NO! GODDAMNIT NO!
Jackal: And that man is you.
Dune: NOOOO -
His voice cuts off as the Jackal begins a countdown.
Jackal: 5...4...3...2…1…
Dune’s shredded lips curl into a smile as the priest utters the words the Jackal has awaited.
Priest: If anyone knows why these two should not be wed in holy matrimony speak now or forever hold your peace.
KABOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Through the Eyes of a Child
The blissful existence four year old Christian Malignaggi has known since birth comes crashing down along with the walls of the St. Patrick’s Cathedral. Frightened unlike any other in the room, the child frantically seeks out his parents in the smoke and fire that follows. He becomes dizzy and scared unlike ever before, and he chooses a direction and begins running.
But he doesn’t make it far before a friendly voice speaks up behind him.
Jackal: My boy, over here!
Gunfire rings out along with screams. In the panic, the boy turns to see the Jackal standing about ten yards away in his grey suit, clean as ever despite the dust and ash that covers everything else. He walks toward the child, exuding an angelic glow. None seem to see him, which doesn’t register as being strange in the child’s eyes. Fear has taken him, and here is someone he could trust.
The Jackal reaches Christian and kneels down, smiling as he speaks.
Jackal: Hi.
Christian Malignaggi: Where’s daddy?
Jackal: Gone!
He says it with a smile, though it fades as his face becomes something black and inhuman along with his voice.
Jackal: Gone forever!
Christian screams in a fear few people have been unfortunate enough to experience, and the now-monstrous Jackal pulls him close before uttering three words in a demonic, multi-toned voice.
Jackal: Let me in!
Christian’s screams are silenced as we cut to black.
Dies Irae (Day of Wrath) II
Dune’s eyes open on the cathedral’s precipice. Fire rages all around, and black smoke fills the hall... but that’s not what draws his attention. Young Christian Malignaggi stands before him, and the fear in the boy’s eyes nearly makes Dune’s heart break
Dune: Hi, Christian. I know who you are. I’m going to help you, okay?
Christian Malignaggi: Daddy! Mommy!
He cries as Dune drops his hood. Up til now the boy had been told monsters weren’t real, but the disfigured face of the man who towers before him amidst the flames convinces him otherwise.
Dune: I know your father, Christian. He’s a good man, and he’s down there somewhere. Take my hand and we’ll go find him, what do you say?
But the child backs away.
Dune: I know my face is ugly, Christian, but I promise you can trust me. I won’t let anything happen to you. But you’ve got to take my hand - it’s very dangerous up here.
Dune reaches out his arm, but again the child backs away. This time he’s run out of room though, and his back foot scrapes over the ledge before Dune shoots toward him. He grabs his arm just in time, pulling him back in as Christian screams and struggles to break free.
Dune: It’s okay - it’s okay…
But the child’s eyes go wide as he sees the man from before - the one whose face had turned black before taking over his body.
The Jackal stands behind Dune, who turns just in time to see him disappear.
Pain shoots through him, and though he fights with all his will, the Jackal takes over once more. He walks toward Christian Malignaggi, who cries to see the Jackal disappear and a change come over Dune. The Jackal speaks through Dune as he nears.
Jackal: How’d you like to get down from here, Christian?
Dune rages silently from within.
Dune: Leave him alone!
Jackal: You want to see your father, do you?
The boy’s face changes at the word, and he stops crying.
Jackal: He’s down there, you know. Right there...see?
Dune points below, where we see Joseph Malignaggi run into the frame. The boy’s eyes go wide in seeing his father.
Christian: Daddy! Daddy!
The Jackal turns the expression on Dune’s face to one of pure evil as he closes on the boy in a flash. He grabs him by the arm, yanking him up as the boy’s calls for his father become screams of fear and confusion. The Jackal calls out in Dune’s voice.
Jackal: Daddy! Daddy!
Dune: Put him down goddamnit! Please, my god please!
Jackal: Can’t you see us, Joseph? Just look at us now!
The words of Freeman replay in Dune’s mind. “Something terrible is going to happen, Dune. But I don’t know what, or to whom.” Dune looks through eyes that aren’t his own at Christian Malignaggi, and he knows…
But it’s too late.
With the child writhing in his arms, Dune steps toward the brink and calls out in hatred to the man below.
Jackal: Joey!
Dune: Please! PLEASE!
From the ground, Joseph Malignaggi looks up in horror. There, Dune holds his child out over the edge. The fires show him in a demonic light, and a darkness pervades his presence as he lifts the child up over his head.
Jackal: For the sins of the father!
Dune: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
His eyes go wide, reflecting the flames before he arches back…
Joey watches Dune lob his son off the precipice. His fall is long and seems to last forever...if only that were the case.
SMACK.
We cut to Dune as the chill of death shoots up and down his spine. He’s regained possession of his body, and he falls to his knees to see Christian Malignaggi splayed out on the ground far below. His heart shatters over and over and over again as an agonizing darkness floods in.
Dune: NOOOOOOO!
His screams are audible now. Tears fill his eyes and a world-ending grief overcomes him. He watches as Joey kneels next to his son, and he reaches out to them both as if it might somehow help. But it won’t, and he knows it. Nothing can absolve him of this, and an infernal wrath surges through him as he turns at the sound of a voice.
Jackal: We’d better get out of here.
Dune charges the Jackal, grabbing hold of his throat with force that would otherwise crush a man’s windpipe, though it has no effect on him.
Dune: You killed him! My god you fucking killed him!
Jackal: No - you killed him. Joey Flash saw it with his own eyes. He’s on his way up now, and I don’t think he’s in the mood for explanations...much like you weren’t when we met at the crossroads and struck this deal. Blood; vengeance...death. I’ve just delivered on my part...
Dune lunges at the Jackal, but to no avail.
Jackal: So let me in.
And as he takes possession of Dune’s mind once more, the screen cuts to black.
The Maw Again
We fade in where we started: at the place called Satan’s Maw on the night before WAR. It’s been a week since the Jackal had used Dune’s body to murder Christian Malignaggi. The moon lights up Dune’s icy blue eyes as the Jackal speaks through him, continuing where he left off earlier.
Dune: Christian Malignaggi - Rest in Peace.
A smile comes over his face.
Dune: You thought I was going to let you off easy, didn’t you, Joseph? I offered you the world, but instead you chose death. I’m not one to let a man die without suffering a bit, and what better way for man to suffer than by allowing him the opportunity to bury his own son? Shame your similarly-childless pal Dune won’t get the opportunity to bury the fetus that was growing inside Pinky when the three of us has our little meet and greet in the desert.
He was so convinced you did it, Joey. And when he finally learned the truth...what a beautiful feeling it was. I was in control of him by then, just like I’ll be in control of him tomorrow night. But don’t worry. I’ll allow you and Dune a proper hello before I step in.
He’s changed...I can feel it as I speak. That’s not to say he won’t protect himself from your onslaught, which you’re sure to bring. Dune murdered your son, Joseph - of course you’ll bring it. You want to kill him now, just as he wanted to kill you. But don’t listen to his pleas. Don’t allow him to get inside your head. Kill him, Joseph - if you can. Kill him just like he killed your four year old son. Let the thought of poor Christian broken at your feet fuel the fire that burns within. If that doesn’t give you enough might to bring Dune to his knees, nothing will, and you’ll have proven yourself unworthy of the pathetic World Title he wears.
I won’t allow you to walk out of there on your own accord. You’ll lie broken beside Dune. Do you truly covet the World Title now, Joseph? Do you truly want nothing more than to say you’re the greatest fighter in the world? No. You want much more than that. You want your son back...but he’s gone forever. You can never have him back, and so the only thing you can do is cling to your hatred and attempt to dismantle the World Champion and murderer of your beloved…
The Jackal continues to talk through Dune, but his voice fades as we zoom in on his unmasked face. When darkness overtakes the screen, we can hear his voice no more.
A few seconds pass before a light appears in the darkness, and there stands the WCF World Champion as we’ve come to know him. He exists only in his mind now, though we see him all the same. Darkness surrounds him, and we zoom in on his half-masked face as he speaks.
Dune: Joey - my god, Joey...
I couldn’t break free in time. I couldn’t stop him. I tried, but he was too strong...
I don’t know what he has planned, but I can guess, and I can also say without a doubt that he’s not done with either of us. WAR - it’s where he wants to break us...and it has me fearing the worst.
Take no mercy on me there, Joey. I doubt you would anyway. I wouldn’t have on you before I learned the truth - that you didn’t kill my son. Should you come to your senses and realize I’d never harm a hair on a child’s head, let alone murder one, then perhaps WAR won’t be the murderous bloodbath the Jackal expects it to be. It’s what the WCF Faithful want too. They’ll be salivating like Pavlov’s dogs at the sound of the opening bell. They’ve been waiting months for me to finally get my hands on you and tear you to pieces before pinning you and retaining my World Title. I’ve been waiting with them...but everything changed that day in the desert.
You were there, Joey - don’t deny it. You know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about.
I’ve never killed anyone who didn’t have it coming. Can you think of anyone you’ve met recently who would kill someone as innocent as Christian? As innocent as my unborn son?! Don’t let your anger blind you, Joey! You’ve seen what the Jackal can do! You watched him kill my son just as you watched him kill yours! I was trapped inside - locked away and powerless to stop him. You have to believe me, Joey! You have to believe me…
But I ask you show no mercy on me all the same. What I’ve been through this past week has nearly vanquished me, Joey. I’m no less the fighter that’s made me the most dominant force in this business, but the Jackal has done everything in his power to break me. He hasn’t yet, but in his eyes that’s what WAR is for. And should you find me in a similarly vanquished state in the ring after he’s paralyzed me and allowed you to pummel me to your heart’s content, I’ll still ask no quarter of you...but know that I’ll provide none for you in return.
The position I find myself in is a difficult one. In light of what’s happened, I could choose not to fight back and give in to death. But in my case, Bill Shakespeare said it best:
“To die, to sleep; to sleep, perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub. For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil must give us pause.”
And pause is exactly what I feel when I consider showing you mercy, Joey. Were this last Sunday, mere hours after my vicarious murder of your son due entirely to the Jackal, I surely would have lied down and let your fatherly rage do its worst...but time doesn’t stand still, and life goes on.
If you won’t see reason - if you refuse to acknowledge my innocence regarding the death of your son - I’ll have no choice but to put an end to this in the ring, where it all began. I’m not going to lay down. That’s not what World Champions do. You still want to be the best, Joey? Well you’ve got to beat me first. Had your son not been murdered in front of your eyes by a man you presume to have been me, there’s no fucking way you would have been able to come anywhere near to defeating me at WAR. Now that the Jackal has ravaged you as he did me though, it’ll make for a much more interesting affair.
Don’t blame me for your losses on the road to WAR, Joey, great as they may be. You know better...or so I would think. But as far as the match itself - the fight that’s been brewing since the spring - that’s a loss you’ll have the distinct displeasure of chalking up to me for all-time...and for it, I’ll take full responsibility.
We begin to zoom out, and before long he’s nothing more than a speck in a sea of darkness. Finally we find ourselves back in the Maw, where the Jackal looks out through the icy blue eyes of Dune. The WCF World Champion turns and exits the frame before the screen fades to black.
(4:00 > )
Malignance:
- 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.
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.
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?”
BING BANG BOOM THE TIME MACHINE FROM THE BEGINNING HAS BECOME RELEVANT TO THE STORY AS GOD KING DUNE TRAVELS BACK IN TIME
2019 Dune transports into 2015 Dune. He examines himself and his surrounding in disbelief. After a moment's pause, his icy blue eyes flick up at the screen.
God King Dune: It doesn't end, Joey. Not even now. Not the memories anyway. They'll live on with us forever, and I'll cherish them always.
God King Dune transports back to 2019 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 only the coming night in his wake.
