Post by Dylan on Dec 24, 2021 23:42:52 GMT -5
We fade in on Dylan sitting at a work bench. A pair of Doc Ock-esque goggles rest on his eyes as he holds a blowtorch to his arm port, sparks flying as he works to modify it. A figure comes into the background behind him, a friendly one. Antonio. He walks past Dylan and drops a glowing cannister on the tale across from Dylan. The torch shuts off and Dylan moves the goggles onto his forehead.
Dylan Black: What's that?
Antonio Katō: It's a little something I scoured the planet for in search of a way to make your port easier to work with. What... are you doing?
Dylan looks down at the excrescence of a port he's been torching and fiddling with all morning.
Dylan Black: This is... it's something. I've reheated some of the parts here, tried to remold it to a certain size to fit the Blacklight into my arm. That way I can at least deliver the stiffest lariat since Stan Hansen. Now what's this?
Dylan picks up that container and examines it closely. There's something in it, moving, Flowing naturally like a liquid. Antonio beams with pride.
Antonio Katō: Well put your base back on and socket whatever you want as you "arm" in on it, and I'll show you.
Dylan sighs, grabbing the socket and clicking it back on the stump of his shoulder. He grabs the Blacklight baseball bat next and struggles to socket that in. He has to stand the bat on the floor and slam his shoulder into it, bringing in winces from Antonio. But it works, the bat sticking out in the most awkward angle but it sits in there. Dylan gives it a few test swings, a smile on his face. Antonio nods before grabbing the canister.
Antonio Katō: This here... it's going to rock your world.
He opens the canister and pours it on the Blacklight. It immediately oozes all over like a symbiote and covers his bat all the way to the shoulder, leaving a trail up to the inhibitor chip at the back of his neck. It's a moment before the... ooze, begins to bend and reshape the Blacklight into something that resembles an arm. Antonio beams with pride!
Antonio Katō: How about that. Nanotechnology! State-of-the-art shit here!
Dylan smiles and sits back in his chair, admiring the rather-stiff makeshift arm attached to him.
Dylan Black: You've really outdone yourself today, Anotnio!
Antonio Katō: Yeah. A shame it's on loan though.
Dylan turns to him, a confused look on his face.
Antonio Katō: I was able to pull a few strings, meet with a few people who wanted some tech tested. Said you were the guy to do the job. You're going to test that tech in the most extreme ways at Oh Violent Night, and then they're going to take it back.
Dylan looks bummed a moment, and sighs.
@ab: So this is just, what. A temporary solution? A little edging on what it's like to have an arm again before I'm blueballed?
Antonio Katō: I don't like your phrasing, but I guess.
A dejected Dylan sighs again.
Dylan Black: You know. All this hassle for a makeshift arm that I'm going to have access to for less than a week. Then having to search for my actual robotic appendage once again. It's really a huge hassle.
Antonio Katō: I suppose so.
Dylan Black: What if... what if I didn't have robot arms anymore?
There's a silence for a moment as Antonio tries to figure out where Dylan is going with this.
Antonio Katō: Are you... are you suggesting retiring? Giving your other arm to some poor disabled kid and walking off the face of the earth?
Dylan Black: No, god no. I've given too much to this sport and I'm so young, I want to give it more and more and reap the rewards I've sown. No, I was thinking... you know, it's ever apparent Gods are real. I've fought one, Spike Kane has fought some and allegedly might be an actual god... do you...
Dylan looks up at Antonio, with almost a twinkle in his eye and a curious grin upon his face.
Dylan Black: How hard do you think it'd be to have a sit down with a god and bargain for my life back?
SMASH CUT!
Dylan Black: This is it. The moment I've been waiting for for 5 months.
Dylan looks down and reflects upon his new right "arm," nanotech flowing around the pieces of his now-broken baseball bat that now resemble an arm. He smiles.
Dylan Black: Oh, not the feeling of having my arm back. That will come in due time. But I'm currently looking forward to giving the XHF Network a Christmas gift- albeit late- that it will never forget. The Violent Foursome. Still don't like that name but it is what we are. We turn the most violent desires into wet dreams for Mongo, and he says if sex sells so will violence.
Dylan Black: Well maybe he said that. I'll never tell. But what I will tell is how I feel about Spike seeing a lot of himself in me, which is an odd feeling no doubt. It's an honor from someone so high up in the violence pantheon, those kind words mean a good deal Spike. Still doesn't mean I won't break your neck before your BANG! The Night Away match but to be given such high praise from the God of Extreme, the Blood God... damn that's a confidence boost. The young boy, the big ball of violence scrapping my way to the top of the XHF Leaderboard. Climbing up the the biggest crown of all...
Dylan Black: The King of Violence Crown.
He grins.
Dylan Black: That's right, I don't give a shit about your golden boy crown. I got my time in the sun being Mongo's poster boy and the X*Crown? Sure, I want that third reign before Rat Bastard rears his ugly head again but right now> I want the little barbed wire wreath Jesse Jamester keeps so warmly nestled upon his head. Jesse, I know I'm gonna have to tear that from your cold, dead hands but I am going to enjoy grabbing that crown and dragging it around your head, down your face and choking you out with it.
He closes his eyes and rubs his hands together, having dreams of all the ways he can add more scars to the Murder Dino's corpse.
Dylan Black: Jesse... as much as wiping that smug look off of Spike's face has be excited, I am still planning on flaying you within an inch of death. It ain't personal. I don't hate you or anything. But you derived me of what I wanted last time, so perhaps it's a bit of a personal vendetta that sees me want to kick your ass harder than most. Maybe after this we can grab a few beers, laugh, and put this all behind us. But until then I will be angry and berate and beat the shit out of you for my own vengeance.
Dylan Black: And PRICE... Price... price. My man. I promise after this I will not be sharing shit with you. No booze, no love. I don't even know who you are, but I know you're a little stuck up bitch pushing into the wrong match at the wrong time. I suspect you and I won't even pass a glance because you and Spike got all the beef. I don't care about you, and I consider your pillar to be non-existent. Maybe you ought to be replaced with Copycat...
Dylan ponders for a moment before shrugging.
Dylan Black: Ah well. Christmas has come early. And I'm going to unwrap the biggest beatdown upon the XHF and show that I AN THE DOMINANT PILLAR OF HARDCORE!
Cut.
Dylan Black: What's that?
Antonio Katō: It's a little something I scoured the planet for in search of a way to make your port easier to work with. What... are you doing?
Dylan looks down at the excrescence of a port he's been torching and fiddling with all morning.
Dylan Black: This is... it's something. I've reheated some of the parts here, tried to remold it to a certain size to fit the Blacklight into my arm. That way I can at least deliver the stiffest lariat since Stan Hansen. Now what's this?
Dylan picks up that container and examines it closely. There's something in it, moving, Flowing naturally like a liquid. Antonio beams with pride.
Antonio Katō: Well put your base back on and socket whatever you want as you "arm" in on it, and I'll show you.
Dylan sighs, grabbing the socket and clicking it back on the stump of his shoulder. He grabs the Blacklight baseball bat next and struggles to socket that in. He has to stand the bat on the floor and slam his shoulder into it, bringing in winces from Antonio. But it works, the bat sticking out in the most awkward angle but it sits in there. Dylan gives it a few test swings, a smile on his face. Antonio nods before grabbing the canister.
Antonio Katō: This here... it's going to rock your world.
He opens the canister and pours it on the Blacklight. It immediately oozes all over like a symbiote and covers his bat all the way to the shoulder, leaving a trail up to the inhibitor chip at the back of his neck. It's a moment before the... ooze, begins to bend and reshape the Blacklight into something that resembles an arm. Antonio beams with pride!
Antonio Katō: How about that. Nanotechnology! State-of-the-art shit here!
Dylan smiles and sits back in his chair, admiring the rather-stiff makeshift arm attached to him.
Dylan Black: You've really outdone yourself today, Anotnio!
Antonio Katō: Yeah. A shame it's on loan though.
Dylan turns to him, a confused look on his face.
Antonio Katō: I was able to pull a few strings, meet with a few people who wanted some tech tested. Said you were the guy to do the job. You're going to test that tech in the most extreme ways at Oh Violent Night, and then they're going to take it back.
Dylan looks bummed a moment, and sighs.
@ab: So this is just, what. A temporary solution? A little edging on what it's like to have an arm again before I'm blueballed?
Antonio Katō: I don't like your phrasing, but I guess.
A dejected Dylan sighs again.
Dylan Black: You know. All this hassle for a makeshift arm that I'm going to have access to for less than a week. Then having to search for my actual robotic appendage once again. It's really a huge hassle.
Antonio Katō: I suppose so.
Dylan Black: What if... what if I didn't have robot arms anymore?
There's a silence for a moment as Antonio tries to figure out where Dylan is going with this.
Antonio Katō: Are you... are you suggesting retiring? Giving your other arm to some poor disabled kid and walking off the face of the earth?
Dylan Black: No, god no. I've given too much to this sport and I'm so young, I want to give it more and more and reap the rewards I've sown. No, I was thinking... you know, it's ever apparent Gods are real. I've fought one, Spike Kane has fought some and allegedly might be an actual god... do you...
Dylan looks up at Antonio, with almost a twinkle in his eye and a curious grin upon his face.
Dylan Black: How hard do you think it'd be to have a sit down with a god and bargain for my life back?
SMASH CUT!
Dylan Black: This is it. The moment I've been waiting for for 5 months.
Dylan looks down and reflects upon his new right "arm," nanotech flowing around the pieces of his now-broken baseball bat that now resemble an arm. He smiles.
Dylan Black: Oh, not the feeling of having my arm back. That will come in due time. But I'm currently looking forward to giving the XHF Network a Christmas gift- albeit late- that it will never forget. The Violent Foursome. Still don't like that name but it is what we are. We turn the most violent desires into wet dreams for Mongo, and he says if sex sells so will violence.
Dylan Black: Well maybe he said that. I'll never tell. But what I will tell is how I feel about Spike seeing a lot of himself in me, which is an odd feeling no doubt. It's an honor from someone so high up in the violence pantheon, those kind words mean a good deal Spike. Still doesn't mean I won't break your neck before your BANG! The Night Away match but to be given such high praise from the God of Extreme, the Blood God... damn that's a confidence boost. The young boy, the big ball of violence scrapping my way to the top of the XHF Leaderboard. Climbing up the the biggest crown of all...
Dylan Black: The King of Violence Crown.
He grins.
Dylan Black: That's right, I don't give a shit about your golden boy crown. I got my time in the sun being Mongo's poster boy and the X*Crown? Sure, I want that third reign before Rat Bastard rears his ugly head again but right now> I want the little barbed wire wreath Jesse Jamester keeps so warmly nestled upon his head. Jesse, I know I'm gonna have to tear that from your cold, dead hands but I am going to enjoy grabbing that crown and dragging it around your head, down your face and choking you out with it.
He closes his eyes and rubs his hands together, having dreams of all the ways he can add more scars to the Murder Dino's corpse.
Dylan Black: Jesse... as much as wiping that smug look off of Spike's face has be excited, I am still planning on flaying you within an inch of death. It ain't personal. I don't hate you or anything. But you derived me of what I wanted last time, so perhaps it's a bit of a personal vendetta that sees me want to kick your ass harder than most. Maybe after this we can grab a few beers, laugh, and put this all behind us. But until then I will be angry and berate and beat the shit out of you for my own vengeance.
Dylan Black: And PRICE... Price... price. My man. I promise after this I will not be sharing shit with you. No booze, no love. I don't even know who you are, but I know you're a little stuck up bitch pushing into the wrong match at the wrong time. I suspect you and I won't even pass a glance because you and Spike got all the beef. I don't care about you, and I consider your pillar to be non-existent. Maybe you ought to be replaced with Copycat...
Dylan ponders for a moment before shrugging.
Dylan Black: Ah well. Christmas has come early. And I'm going to unwrap the biggest beatdown upon the XHF and show that I AN THE DOMINANT PILLAR OF HARDCORE!
Cut.
