First Blood [OVN 1/2]
Dec 22, 2021 13:07:37 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer, Steve Awesome, and 2 more like this
Post by Dylan on Dec 22, 2021 13:07:37 GMT -5
Dylan Black: Here we are, once again.
We fade in on Dylan sitting alone, clad in shorts sneakers and a hoodie. The left sleeve dangling low, due to Steve Awesome being sole owner of that robotic appendage. Dylan slides the hood off the top of his head and looks up into the camera.
Dylan Black: For the second time in this calendar year, it's been decided the three most violent men in the wrestling world shall stand off for a chance at one of the biggest prizes in his industry. Pride... Let's be real, Mongo wouldn't let Spike defend the X*Crown in an unsanctioned, non-sponsored event. But that's okay, I had enough of being the golden goose of the XHF for over 200 days. This match, it's not about the X*Crown. Never was, never would be.
He taps his head then points to the camera.
Dylan Black: This? It's personal. Always was. Always would be. Spike Kane is a reason why I never had the chance to reclaim the X*Crown. Jesse Jamester stole my chance of revenge when we all squared off. And PRICE... you just had to stick your nose in our business.
His brow furrows at that.
Dylan Black: Yaknow, if someone had told me the Price I fought in AXW was a poser, a fake, maybe I wouldn't have bragged so hard about beating a Hardcore Icon through these last few years. I threw down with Hardcore Harry. I BEAT MICHAEL STORM IN MY DEBUT MATCH! And to think I thought I held a victory over the Messiah of Hardcore himself.
Dylan Black: That'll change now.
Dylan Black: PRICE, your doppelgänger had a few choice things to say to me, and a few choice actions to hit me with. I owed him for some Price Crashes he gave me, but since he's gone and you're here I believe those debts are on your back now. And he built up quite the bill.
Dylan leans in and offers a soft grin to the camera.
Dylan Black: But deep down, I know what's going on. This PRICE, is just an attempt to stay relevant to the scene. Excusing the Price we knew from AXW, you'd been long gone from the scene for over a decade, getting fat and stupid and blowing the money Mongo paid you for years. You're either broke or looking for a greatest hits tour. Either way you're dumb as rocks for pushing your way into this. We all had our own beefs to squash. But you? Got the BALLS to come and put a target on the back of your head the size of Cleveland! And you got three of the most dangerous men gunning for the bounty you yourself placed on your head.
Dylan Black: But that's the thrill, ain't it? Making enemies with people who're already enemies so they have to kill each other just so you can pick off the survivor. Not a flawed strategy, to be honest. But to reiterate, you got the three most dangerous men gunning for you.
Dylan Black: You chose to interject yourself into our mess. You wanted this war.
Dylan Black: And I'll be so damn glad to have YOUR blood on MY hand!
It's the day after the Swinger Party event and Dylan is back home nursing his wounds. Holding a cold pack of peas to the back of his head after those vicious chair shots from PRICE. Sir Charles Worthington nestles himself in the lap of the Messiah, curled up in a ball and snoring away. It looks for a fleeting second like Dylan is drifting off, before a sharp knock is heard! They both jolt up as the door opens and Dylan's friend Antonio walks through the door.
Antonio Katō: Dylan, my good friend. You are not going to believe the headlines making the rounds today!
Dylan just sighs and turns his head towards his friend, but keeping his eyes firmly closed.
Dylan Black: Normally when one has the key to another's house, they don't just burst in with the latest paper in hand, ready to talk about the news. Small talk is for coffee, watashi no yūjin. And I hate coffee.
He opens his eyes to stare Antonio down. A smile slowly creeps onto his face.
Dylan Black: But you seem so pressed to break this news your name might as well be Angela DeWitt. Do enlighten me.
Antonio produces a newspaper and flips to the sports section, where a victorious photo of him is plastered in front, followed up with an article by a guy named Craig.
Antonio Katō: "Dylan Black: Hero of the Disabled Community!"
He reads that off so proud, like a father reading off his son's accomplishments. Dylan, however, is less than enthused by this proclamation.
Dylan Black: Hero? HERO?! Are these folk mad?
Antonio Katō: What do you mean? You said it yourself, that it was an honor to be an inspiration to others like you!
Dylan removes his corgi from his lap and stands up, the blankest expression with a slight sneer to it gracing his face.
Dylan Black: Yeah, and I didn't mean it. It's called saving face in the public eye! Do you think I want to be a hero of the people? Do you think I WANT to live a life where I'm reliant on medical technology from the future that allows me to have basic functions, let alone wrestle? I never wanted this, I didn't ask for these abilities. All I wanted was to be normal, not to be a champion for those less fortunate. And because of these unfortunate events, I must live in pain for the rest of my time! THIS IS A CURSE! THESE PEOPLE COULD NEVER UNDERSTAND THAT!
Antonio is taken aback, and ducks as Dylan lashes out with a fist that goes through a wall! Dust settles as he pulls his fist back, a small hoie to reveal the Fragility of Ego, still hanging in the bathroom as it always does. He shakes the dust from his fist and glares at Antonio.
Dylan Black: I am all too aware of the pain that people who share my disability face. War heroes who've lost their limbs, people with cancers who need things amputated. I can't fathom their paths and stories but I know all about their pain. But the second they try to use me as an object, make me a martyr, symbolize me, that's where the ideals split. There are war heroes, other celebrities and they try to take in a guy who is everything they are not and pin him up, make him mean something for them. That's not it Antonio. I am no one's symbol. And I am no hero.
Dylan Black: I'm the damn villain of this tale.
Dylan Black: Jesse Jamester. Our paths cross once again and since we've last met, you've grown to a bigger man than before. Bigger stature, bigger gold collection, bigger ego. Heh, if there was one person I thought would tear the NPW North American Double Crown from Lord Dominicus it was you. And by extension you did. But, as all things are in these types of contests, that don't mean jack to me.
Dylan sits backwards on a steel chair. He knows all about the monster that is the Canadian Nightmare and he's ready to give out the season's beatings.
Dylan Black: Championships, gold, material worth, it doesn't mean anything to guys like us. Deep down, this contest is about three things. Beating the tar out of each other...
He holds up a finger, then raises a second one.
Dylan Black: ...pride...
The third finger flies high.
Dylan Black: And bragging rights. And believe me, no one has more to lose in this match than the wearer of the Hardcore Crown. Jesse Jamester comes into this match in a career high, as well as the victor of our last outing, aand it's here he must defend those bragging rights in a foursome that begs to be more violent than the last. But one problem, man. We all fought with nothing to lose last time. Now, you've got the pride. Spike has the gold. PRICE has the hit to fulfil. But me, I haven't got a thing of note to my name.
Dylan Black: And that's why I'll be most dangerous.
Beat.
Dylan Black: It's always been true that the guy who has nothing to lose, with everything to gain, is the guy who makes the kill shots to secure his position. If that means I have to put down that scumbag PRICE and send him back to his retirement home? Fine. No problem. If that means I have to beat the rest of the life out of Spike Kane, beat him so bad the most boring God in XHF kicks him while he's down, fine. If that means I have to bury you alive, drag that barbed wire crown out of your cold, dead hands and drive it upon my skull to prove a point? Consider that done.
Dylan Black: When I look back upon these last few months, I see a glaring figure that... that I just cannot get over. Losing to Caffrey? Whatever, he never shut up about the first four times so what's a fifth if not more reason to leave him on read. Not picking up the Junior Heavyweight Championship at Cruiserfest? I was distracted and missing an arm. Getting pinned by Jesse Jamester and not avenging my Battle of the Best Spike Kane had a hand in delivering? Oooh yeah, that's stung me for a while. You got in my way last time, yeah he laid hands on your kid. That's rough, but if that shows the world anything it's that the Kane's are terrible father figures. You achieved some vengeance of your own, but at the cost of me.
He glares, and his hand curls into a fist at the thought of the XHF Birthday Bash. Dylan's eyes close and he takes a deep breath.
Dylan Black: In this match there is one objective I have. Prove that it is I who deserves the title of Most Violent in the XHF. The path to that objective runs through you, and this train's got no sign of slowing downn. I gotta beat you. Or I gotta die trying. Simple as that. And in my books, this is no time to die.
Dylan is now seen pacing in his living room, tape over the newly added bathroom ventilation hole he made earlier. He holds a phone to his ear and stares daggers through whatever's in front of him at that very second. He stops for a second, perking up as someone may have picked up on the other end? No, it's just the voicemail box. We can hear the beep before he speaks.
Dylan Black: Hey Jeremiah, it's me Dylan. The guy you rebuilt cybernetically laat year? Yeah, hey so I've had one of my arms stolen from me, I don't have an ETA on if, or when, I'll be getting it back. I think I might need a new one made, is that something you can help me with? If you can, gimme a call back and I can commission it or whatever. Cheers mate.
Dylan hangs up the phone and groans as Antonio walks into the room.
Antonio Katō: I assume no luck on the front of tracking down Vastrix or the Trons who supplied your cybernetics?
Dylan Black: Not a word. I counter-assume that since you're here, there's been no luck finding anything on Steve Awesome's whereabouts?
Antonio Katō: On the contrary, that flesh sack seems to be popping up everywhere at once! Doing signings, premieres, even in a court house to settle for kicking that kid a few months ago.
Dylan Black: So what you're saying is it's impossible to track him down because he manages to be everywhere at once?
Antonio Katō: Precisely.
Dylan hangs his head in his hands and groans.
Dylan Black: Great. So now I have to go into the most violent Match Of The Year at a literal handicap.
Antonio Katō: Well, who says you have to go in at a handicap?
Dylan looks perplexed. Not following. Antonio sighs and gestures to the port where his arm would plug in.
Antonio Katō: So you plug your arm into this, and though technology I cannot comprehend your arm works, yes?
Dylan Black: Yes?
Antonio Katō: Well. what if we jerry-rigged it to fit something else there. Maybe a weapon. A bat, or a stick. Something of that nature. And give you an arm that you can use to massacre your enemies.
Dylan is thinking for a moment, before an idea clicks and he claps his hands together!
Dylan Black: Antonio! My man, I think you're on to something!
Dylan reaches up and tears the port right off, a few sparks flying off of it. Dylan inspects it before walking away.
Dylan Black: I'm gonna take a closer look at this and see if I can fix this up for Oh Violent Night.
And like an excited child with a new Lego set, Dylan runs off to build his own Weapon of Mass Destruction.
Dylan Black: And then there was one. The blood god. Spike Kane.
Dylan Black: I gotta say, seeing you and FIRESIDE parade my X*Crown Championship around, that's pissed me off. So it's almost a sigh of relief that you are on your way out of that place, and frankly you have my full support. That being said, you have to face the Violence Quartet before you face the faux God.
He shudders a moment.
Dylan Black: They need a new name to describe us. Violence Quartet makes it sound like we're a barbershop quartet.
A dismissive hand.
Dylan Black: But names don't matter. What matters is the fact I still have business to do with you. I am still pissed that you cost me the Battle of the Best, but that's in the past. That's beyond holding a grudge for. So I think my only case for fighting you, is for the fun of beating you.
Dylan Black: I mean, I suppose I can throw you a few licks for every time I hear you go 'Fuck Dylan Black.' Leading up to your fight with Fizz it was almost every day one of you said it. So I guess I can whoop you for that. But this fight, it's really all about old violence versus new violence. Spike Kane and PRICE, the agents of XHF old, versus Jesse Jamester and Dylan Black, the new dudes with attitude. And while I won't hesitate to stab Jesse in the back this go-around, I think it'd be nice to cap off my year with the one thing I've yearned for all year. A win over the Spiked One. The King of Violence Crown. Showing the world that I am the future of Hardcore.
Dylan smirks.
Dylan Black: And while beating anyone else in this match would suffice, I think this boils down to the guy that came back in the Rumble, my royal crowning, and tried to hijack that for his own purposes. I promised to send you back to hell where you belonged, but it seems like you've picked a new home on Earth. No matter that. My promise still stands. And when it comes to me slaying you in the ring, I'll happily make you a two-time resident of hell.
Dylan Black: All Gods Fall. Hail to that.
Fin.
