Monstrum Bellum, Part Five
Apr 15, 2023 22:47:00 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer, bloodiedfox, and 1 more like this
Post by Donzig on Apr 15, 2023 22:47:00 GMT -5
The Past -
God frowned as he looked across the courtyard, the wind blew through the old neatly trimmed trees. The leaves and flowers rustled softly, a few stray petals blew away as his acolytes stood before him. He could feel their panic, their fear as the dark figure swept through the gates. God sniffed, watching as the man tossed a broken acolyte to the stones with a shrug of indifference.
The Order had told him the man was coming, that they knew he had found the ancient Temple of Nippon. God didn’t care he had faced down a million challengers over the long years. He stepped forward, motioning his students away.
‘Leave now, and you will leave alive.’
The figure looked up, and the face that stared at him from under the hood gleamed in the sunlight. It was a mask of metal, some sort of skull. A death’s head, and the figure snorted a laugh.
‘We have been dead a long time, old man.’
‘Master, don’t fight him. We will take him!’ Said one of the acolytes, a few others nodded as they stepped closer. God stared at them, then looked over to the other.
‘This foe is beyond you. He is the Scourge of the Order, the hand of judgment. He has broken a thousand champions. But he will not break me.’
The Scourge shrugged.
‘I have heard that a thousand times, but here I am.’
God flung off his robes, and he charged across the courtyard to leap into the air. His feet drove into the man’s chest, and he staggered back before landing in a heap. God struck, stomping kicks at his head and chest before the Scourge rolled away.
The man who was God was old, he was not so fast as he once was. But each blow was a close thing, the Scourge came to his feet. His leg snapped downwards cracking across his spine. The Scourge dropped to his knees. His acolytes cheered him on, and he wrapped an arm around the man’s throat. Hauling upwards, the Scourge choked as he dragged him forward.
‘Submit. I will show you mercy for I am God.’
Donzig fumed, and then he shoved forward to push the old man backwards across the stone of the courtyard to batter him against a statue. It swayed, nearly falling, and Donzig pushed again. The hold was broken, and then he started to throw huge rights into the face of God.
The old man staggered back, shaking his head as Donzig rained punch after punch on him. Then he yanked him forward, driving a knee into his head to send God sprawling to the earth.
His acolytes gasped, and the Scourge ripped off his mask.
‘Wake up, time to die!’
‘You are proud and boastful, but you’re just a man! I am God!’
Donzig dropped the mask, and stepped forward.
‘I am the Chosen of the Pit, old man. Death in High Places, and you’re in my way!’
God twisted as Donzig reached down for him, ripping him off balance as his legs moved upwards as DonZig’s arm extended as he crashed to the stones of the courtyard. God tightened the hold and Donzig flailed as the old man growled at him.
‘They should have sent you to me when you were younger! I could have done much with you! But you’re no warrior, boy! You’re just an up-jumped killer with delusions of grandeur!’
Donzig hissed, and he pushed backwards as the old man kept up the pressure. Then his free hand reached out, and closed on a loose rock. He twisted again, pushing against the pain as he scrambled upwards to push God back.
One of the students yelled a warning, but it was too late. Donzig was terribly fast when he wanted to be! The rock slammed down on the old man’s face, then again! Blood sprayed and he cracked it into his temple, and the hold was broken as he tried to crawl away.
Donzig stared at the rock, and glanced at the acolytes before he spat.
‘There is only one god, old fool. Only one.’
The acolytes stared, one retching as Donzig flung the bloody rock aside almost absently. He wiped his bloody hand across his mouth, licking blood from his fingers as he tilted his head. The acolytes gaped at him, then dropped to their knees. He flicked a hand at the old man.
‘Someone dump this old fool off in Tokyo, and let the Order know that I am coming home.’
‘It will be as you command.’
‘Are you God now?’
Donzig bent and picked up his mask, staring down at it before he shrugged. He pulled the mask over his face, bloody fingerprints staining the metal as he walked for the gates.
‘No, I am something worse.’
The Present -
Armand frowned as he followed the silent witches and Victoria through the endless tunnels of the great crumbling temple. The shadows were alive with mutters and whispers, and he could see figures hiding in that darkness. Watching him with accusing eyes. He could feel their malice, their disdain, and their indifference.
‘Who are they?’
Victoria looked up from her own thoughts, shrugging.
‘The Children of the Fall. The ranks of Donzig-gun.’
‘Why are they here?’
‘I called them, Armand. We need them to see, as many as we can gather. They need to see what happens here. Those I didn’t call, he did.’
Armand shrugged, and he stared at the great black pit that spread across the floor of the temple before they turned down another narrow tunnel.
A song echoed from the deeps, cold and hissing as it rang off the broken ancient walls.
‘The king and his men stole the queen from her bed
And bound her in her bones
The seas be ours and by the powers
Where we will, we'll roam….’
Armand frowned.
‘Yo-ho, all together
Hoist the colors high
Heave ho, thieves and beggars
Never shall we die….’
The tunnel ended in a great room, and beneath the flickering torches he could see more figures watching. Their anger hit him like a wave, even as they parted before them as the witches walked forward. A few even bowed, and then he saw them standing near the head of the Chamber gathered around a broken stone throne.
Gavin Drake. Carbrey. The Oblivion Death Squad. Sinclair Godfrey.
A few feet back lurked the massive form of the Murder Lizard, arms crossed over his chest. Esmeralda stood near him, and just behind them Tarrasque. He thought saw another lizard mask in the crowd, but it was gone.
Donzig reclined on the chair, huddled on it as he hissed the last lines of the song. Blood ran from the slits of his mask, and he held himself oddly as he leaned forward.
‘The time has come,' the Walrus said,
To talk of many things:
Of shoes — and ships — and sealing-wax —
Of cabbages — and kings —
And why the sea is boiling hot —
And whether pigs have wings.'
The Past -
The doors to the great chamber in the heart of the ruined temple burst open, and the Council was on their feet. They turned as one, a few reaching for their masks as Donzig stalked inside. Victoria stared at him from where she lurked in the shadows, and stepped around a pillar as the man in the Dragon Mask rose angrily.
‘You dare to show your face here? We know what you have done!’
The black masked Russian nodded, rising as well as he pointed with his cane. He snapped it against the arm of his chair, and he waved it.
‘You have damned yourself trying to overthrow this council!’
Donzig laughed, a terrible hissing noise that sounded like a dying machine as he shook his head. He tugged on his gloves, fingers twitching as he swept forward with a tilt of his masked head.
‘Enough. I have broken your sad little council’s grip, I have defeated your champions, and all that you once had bows before me.’
‘Our men will deal with you! The Children of the Temple, the soldiers of the 13 families!’
Dragon-mask glared, and he stepped closer before he clapped his hands. The others nodded in approval as they leaned back in their seats. The doors around the hall opened, and the sound of rushing feet echoed through the room. Donzig said nothing, merely stared as black clad figures swarmed into the room. They stared at him with masked faces before he lifted a hand.
They froze, and turned as one to stare at the Council.
The Russian snarled.
‘What is the meaning of this! Destroy him!’
‘Where are your family colors?’ snapped the Dragon. The soldiers of the Order all wore a motley of colors, a riot of them that showed their rank, their training, and their legacy! The ones in the room all wore the same color. A dull black.
Donzig answered with that cold tone.
‘My bitches wear my colors, sir.’
He snapped his fingers, and the Children of the Temple stormed forward as one. They grabbed their former masters, dragging them from their high places around the edges of the room. They were flung to their knees, and their masks were ripped off to be thrown at the bottom of the stone stairs. Donzig climbed the stairs, and slowly dropped down on the crumbling stone throne as he leaned back with a sniff.
‘What will become of us?’ said the man who had been the Dragon of Mexico. Donzig stared at him, and he shrugged as he leaned forward. Hands digging into the arms of the chair, and he purred.
‘You will live. But you will serve us, you will spread the will of Oblivion. Obedire est vivere. Vivere est obedire. To Obey is to live, to live is to obey. Submit and know mercy.’
The old men of the Council stared at each other, their hearts breaking as they looked up at their former minions. Then the Russian tried to rise before the big Albanians shoved him back to his knees.
‘What if we won’t submit?’
Donzig sighed, and he looked towards the tunnel that led to the great pit.
‘It’s a long way down, friend.’
The men stared at him, and they started to stammer over each other. Trying to quickly submit as Donzig leaned back with a nod. Then he waved a hand, and a small group of the henchmen started to drag black caskets into the room. Hoses and tubes dangled from them, and they set to quickly hooking them up before. The men stared, and Donzig laughed once more as he leaned back.
‘Did you think I would take your vows of allegiance and fealty at face value? No, no, no. You must be broken by the Void, you must suffer as we suffered, and you will see the great wheel. Our enemy. You will be reborn to Oblivion by my hand. Purified.’
The man started to protest, but the soldiers of the Order battered them to the ground. Punching and kicking them as they hauled them across the floor to the waiting caskets. Donzig watched them with indifference, his two huge minions at his side. Victoria moved forward slowly, looking nervously at the chaos around her before she spoke.
‘What is this? This is not what we discussed.’
The mask turned to look at her, and the fingers rubbed together as he shrugged.
‘Victoria.’
‘We said we would rule the Council together, that we would use the power of the Order to fix this! We said everything they had would be ours! This is not what we worked for, this is not what we talked about!’
A hiss.
‘You would replace old masters with new. You would have us become like them, dear sister. But no, no, no, that is not what we are about! I will cleanse this sport of kings, I will break it, throw it into darkness! I will give it back itself, stronger! It will burn to ash, and be reborn like a phoenix! My phoenix! I will pave the way to our future!’
His voice had risen to a howl, a shriek that echoed through the tunnels as he slammed his fist down on the stone. He leaned forward, head tilting as he stared at her before he waved a hand.
‘I will break the Great Wheel! I will undo all of these things! I will be the savior of wrestling! Me! ME! ME! The Order is dead, this council is dead! We are Donzig-gun now!’
Victoria stared at him, rage boiling inside of her as she clenched her hands into fists. She stepped closer, and her face twisted before she pointed at him.
‘You! YOU LIED TO ME! YOU USED ME!’
Donzig laughed that weird rasping life like a machine trying to sound human. When had he stopped laughing like a normal person, she wondered.
‘The Scorpion and the Frog, dear sister. You knew what I was when you picked me up.’
Victoria gaped, and she started up the stairs before the Witches grabbed her to pull her back. She struggled against them clawing and fighting as their leader hauled her away from the throne, and she was being pulled towards one of the waiting caskets. Donzig lifted a hand, and he rose to look down at her.
‘No. I will show you mercy. You are exiled, I will not see you again. Leave this place.’
Victoria stared, and she sputtered in rage.
‘You! This was my place!’
‘And now it is ours.’
The Present -
Armand walked forward, glancing at the people all around him before he finally shrugged. He looked at Victoria, and then turned back to Donzig. A glance would tell Von Krauss all he needed to know, Donzig was hurt. The Scourge never seemed to feel pain, but the way he slumped in the seat? The one his breath came in slow gasps? He was hurt.
Armand smiled, and he glanced at Esmeralda before he slowly sank to his knees before the throne. A murmur ran through the crowd, and Armand spread his hands as he looked up again.
‘I offer myself to your service, I yield myself to the Great Dark. I will become one with Donzig-gun.’
Esmeralda stared at him, and then her eyes widened. Sinclair glanced at her fellow minions before she turned to Donzig. But he waved her off, nodding slowly as he murmured.
‘Brother, I knew one day you would see as we all do. The world is broken, it must be destroyed, so it can live again. Rise and take your place at my side once more, Armand. I welcome you.’
Armand hid his own smile, he tried to keep his mind flat and not meet those eyes. Donzig had an annoying way of knowing what you were thinking when he wanted to. And so he leaned back, fingers drumming against each other as he looked down at Armand. The crowd was silent, and then Armand tilted his head before he spoke in a calm even voice.
‘I challenge. You are no leader, you’re no king. You’re weak, hurt, unfit to command us!’
The crowd shouted at that, a few cursing as others laughed. Esmeralda swore, and took a step forward before the Murder Lizard grabbed her arm. He had been here a long time, he knew outsiders like them had no place in this business. The crowd rumbled, whispering and hissing as Mormo and Moloch stepped forward before Donzig held up a hand.
Sinclair turned to him.
‘Name a champion. Drake.’
Gavin Drake stepped forward, his eyes narrowed as he lifted a big fist as he started down the small flight of stairs. Armand stared at him, the Empty Hand was a dangerous man. Donzig glanced around, and he frowned under his mask.
He was hurt, every breath was agony, his great mind was slowed. But he knew if he stumbled here his own children would pull him down. A leader of Donzig-gun could not show weakness, or doubt. And so he rose, hissing in pain before a shaking hand pulled off his mask.
‘As it was, so it shall always be. Challenge accepted.’
Sinclair looked away, biting her lip as Drake stared at Donzig as the Scourge limped down the stairs. He flung off his great jacket, and he lifted his hand to stare at his fingers before he turned to Armand as blood dripped from his nose. He spat, and blood gleamed on the stone as the crowd started to stomp.
Armand laughed, tearing off his suit jacket as he squared up.
‘She was right, Your pride will be your undoing always, no one can be greater than Great Donzig. You knew you were hurt this entire time, but you refused to stop! This will be my greatest triumph, I will take away the only thing you love.’
Donzig gritted his teeth.
‘Shut up.’
He leapt forward, he needed to end this quickly. And his fists flew at Armand, hard fast blows that normally were like hammers. But he was too slow for a creature like Von Krauss, and Armand rolled aside as he weaved under the punches before blocking the last. Then his leg snapped upwards, catching Donzig across the ribs.
Breath would not come, and he gasped as he staggered back with eyes wide. His lungs burned, and he stared as Armand ran in to drive a knee into his face. It was like a bomb in his brain, an explosion of light and agony that sent him sprawling to the stone.
The gathered children of the Fall gasped. Donzig rolled aside from a few kicks, and then he lunged at Armand as he came back to his feet.
His shoulder drove into Armand’s gut, knocking him back as his arms slid around him. He flung Von Krauss towards the ground, but he stumbled as Armand broke free to grab his head once more before he drove a knee upwards.
Blood flew, and Donzig snapped backwards to land on the stone again.
‘Don’t prolong this, old friend. I don’t want to hurt you, but I have to stop you. Victoria is right, you’re a demon. Some kind of demented Godling. Everyday you reign here is one day closer to doom.’
Donzig laughed a broken hissing sound, as he slowly rolled over to drag himself away before he rose. He was shaking, every limb was on fire. Every breath was harder than the last as he spat blood, and he wiped a hand across his mouth as Armand walked closer.
‘Shut up! Shut up!’
‘That is all you have for me? The great and wise Donzig has no wisdom or even jokes to share?’
Donzig threw himself forward, firing off a few stiff elbows that drove Armand back. And he snapped him towards the wall, and then he turned before he charged in to fire a knee at his back. Armand spun aside, and Donzig crashed into the temple wall! Armand wrapped his arms around him, and flung him backwards with a release German Suplex! He rolled across the stone, sprawling there before he started to rise.
He was too far gone. The War in January? The Battle with the Sheik? Belfast with Yamamoto? Even further back to Fowler. Sticky and Conquest. It had all been too much, even for him. Blood ran from his mouth, and he blinked rapidly as his mind seemed to scream at him.
Armand slammed his head against the ancient stone, and then he wrapped his arms around his neck and throat. He wrenched his head backwards, and Donzig flailed as he tried to escape as the hold was tightened as his legs pulled Donzig’s arm outwards. The Scourge howled, and the others screamed in his mind before he finally collapsed.
Armand rose slowly, a smirk on his lips. Sinclair glared at him, and then she slowly lowered herself to her knees. Drake’s fists were tight at his side, and his eyes narrowed before he spat. Then he slowly knelt as well, followed by Carbrey. The Death Squad slowly sank to their knees, and the rest of the crowd moved to follow.
Victoria stepped up beside him, a mocking smile given to the angry face of Esmeralda Von Krauss.
The Endless Now -
Fog roiled in the darkness, and soon enough the mask of the Scourge was shown laying on the black stone of the floor. A voice echoed from the darkness, somehow sad and bitter.
‘My enemies think I am beaten, that I have been broken. But you can not kill what can not be killed. I am the Great Dark, Death in High Places, and no thing, no one, can ever end what I have begun. And so at the Rumble? I will begin again, I will take back all of the things they have stolen. I will reclaim what is mine by right with blood and fire. I will teach them to fear once more. I am the Scourge, I am the cleansing fire of Oblivion, and this world is our prison.’
Something rustled.
‘You see, some of you think I am a joke, or just another fool here for your jokes. But facts are? No one has carved a path of destruction through the XHF like I have! As we enter the third year of the Age of Donzig? I have only suffered singles defeats at the hands of 9 people! Only 9 people on this entire Network have pinned me!
I have suffered 12 singles defeats by pinfall! Only 12! And so at the Rumble? If you’re not one of the Nine? Fuck you. Stay out of my way, this isn’t for you. I don’t have shit for you except pain and suffering. The X-crown is not worth being on my radar.
If you happen to be one of the Nine, and I know you know who you are? Watch your back, I want my pound of flesh. Out of all the creatures that walk or crawl on the face of the dying Earth? You are the Nine, I want to suffer the most!
You see I am the Wonder and Terror of this Age! I am everything I say I am, and what I am saying to you? Is I don’t need your jokes, I don’t need your respect, and I don’t give two fucks about what you say or do? What I want is the X-crown.
And that makes me? The next X-crown Champion.’
The Present -
Armand led the small group through the jungle, glancing back at them with a sneer. Victoria walked beside him, clearly enjoying her moment of triumph as they walked through the moonlight shadows to a small clearing high above the Temple.
The Children of the Fall, the Servants of the Void had started to leave not long after he had won the duel. They had slunk off in small groups, or alone but none had yet to challenge him. Drake and Carbrey had left almost as quickly. Victoria warned him that the so-called Sons of the Conqueror were his greatest foes now. They were widely respected and loved by Donzig-gun, and they were known to be close to Donzig.
They were threats to his power, and he would have to watch them.
The Death Squad had remained, Mormo and Moloch seemed to hate him. But the Death Squad and their kind were the loyal foot soldiers of Oblivion, they would serve even if they despised him. And yet when he motioned for them to lower Donzig they did so gently, settling him on the leaves reverently.
He turned to the others, and he felt malice and hatred watch over him. Esmeralda moved to kneel beside Donzig, her fingers stroking his bloodied face as she cradled the battered and dented mask in the other.
He had wanted the Mask, but Victoria warned him that according to the old lore of the Order a mask carried some part of its former owner inside of it. Donzig’s mask had only ever known one bearer, and the mind of the Scourge was a terrible thing. So Armand had left it, he stared at Esmeralda before he shook his head.
The last person was the Baroness of Donzig-gun, Sinclair Godfrey. She stared at him with hatred, and he knew she was his greatest foe. None stood higher in the esteem of the Children than her. She was the heir of the Scourge, his beloved apprentice, his shadow. Her loyalty to Donzig kept her at his side even now.
And she wanted Armand to die.
He looked away, then knelt down beside Donzig. The half closed eyes of the Scourge were far away, and yet they still seemed to see past him. Armand frowned, and he lightly slapped his cheek before he leaned closer.
‘I should keep you here. Or I should kill you. But no, I want them all to see you now. To see you as I see you. I want you to suffer, and so I will send them to you. I will send you to the Rumble, into the hands of your enemies, Donzig.’
Armand laughed, rising before he walked back into the jungle.
Armand-gun followed him into the darkness.
God frowned as he looked across the courtyard, the wind blew through the old neatly trimmed trees. The leaves and flowers rustled softly, a few stray petals blew away as his acolytes stood before him. He could feel their panic, their fear as the dark figure swept through the gates. God sniffed, watching as the man tossed a broken acolyte to the stones with a shrug of indifference.
The Order had told him the man was coming, that they knew he had found the ancient Temple of Nippon. God didn’t care he had faced down a million challengers over the long years. He stepped forward, motioning his students away.
‘Leave now, and you will leave alive.’
The figure looked up, and the face that stared at him from under the hood gleamed in the sunlight. It was a mask of metal, some sort of skull. A death’s head, and the figure snorted a laugh.
‘We have been dead a long time, old man.’
‘Master, don’t fight him. We will take him!’ Said one of the acolytes, a few others nodded as they stepped closer. God stared at them, then looked over to the other.
‘This foe is beyond you. He is the Scourge of the Order, the hand of judgment. He has broken a thousand champions. But he will not break me.’
The Scourge shrugged.
‘I have heard that a thousand times, but here I am.’
God flung off his robes, and he charged across the courtyard to leap into the air. His feet drove into the man’s chest, and he staggered back before landing in a heap. God struck, stomping kicks at his head and chest before the Scourge rolled away.
The man who was God was old, he was not so fast as he once was. But each blow was a close thing, the Scourge came to his feet. His leg snapped downwards cracking across his spine. The Scourge dropped to his knees. His acolytes cheered him on, and he wrapped an arm around the man’s throat. Hauling upwards, the Scourge choked as he dragged him forward.
‘Submit. I will show you mercy for I am God.’
Donzig fumed, and then he shoved forward to push the old man backwards across the stone of the courtyard to batter him against a statue. It swayed, nearly falling, and Donzig pushed again. The hold was broken, and then he started to throw huge rights into the face of God.
The old man staggered back, shaking his head as Donzig rained punch after punch on him. Then he yanked him forward, driving a knee into his head to send God sprawling to the earth.
His acolytes gasped, and the Scourge ripped off his mask.
‘Wake up, time to die!’
‘You are proud and boastful, but you’re just a man! I am God!’
Donzig dropped the mask, and stepped forward.
‘I am the Chosen of the Pit, old man. Death in High Places, and you’re in my way!’
God twisted as Donzig reached down for him, ripping him off balance as his legs moved upwards as DonZig’s arm extended as he crashed to the stones of the courtyard. God tightened the hold and Donzig flailed as the old man growled at him.
‘They should have sent you to me when you were younger! I could have done much with you! But you’re no warrior, boy! You’re just an up-jumped killer with delusions of grandeur!’
Donzig hissed, and he pushed backwards as the old man kept up the pressure. Then his free hand reached out, and closed on a loose rock. He twisted again, pushing against the pain as he scrambled upwards to push God back.
One of the students yelled a warning, but it was too late. Donzig was terribly fast when he wanted to be! The rock slammed down on the old man’s face, then again! Blood sprayed and he cracked it into his temple, and the hold was broken as he tried to crawl away.
Donzig stared at the rock, and glanced at the acolytes before he spat.
‘There is only one god, old fool. Only one.’
The acolytes stared, one retching as Donzig flung the bloody rock aside almost absently. He wiped his bloody hand across his mouth, licking blood from his fingers as he tilted his head. The acolytes gaped at him, then dropped to their knees. He flicked a hand at the old man.
‘Someone dump this old fool off in Tokyo, and let the Order know that I am coming home.’
‘It will be as you command.’
‘Are you God now?’
Donzig bent and picked up his mask, staring down at it before he shrugged. He pulled the mask over his face, bloody fingerprints staining the metal as he walked for the gates.
‘No, I am something worse.’
The Present -
Armand frowned as he followed the silent witches and Victoria through the endless tunnels of the great crumbling temple. The shadows were alive with mutters and whispers, and he could see figures hiding in that darkness. Watching him with accusing eyes. He could feel their malice, their disdain, and their indifference.
‘Who are they?’
Victoria looked up from her own thoughts, shrugging.
‘The Children of the Fall. The ranks of Donzig-gun.’
‘Why are they here?’
‘I called them, Armand. We need them to see, as many as we can gather. They need to see what happens here. Those I didn’t call, he did.’
Armand shrugged, and he stared at the great black pit that spread across the floor of the temple before they turned down another narrow tunnel.
A song echoed from the deeps, cold and hissing as it rang off the broken ancient walls.
‘The king and his men stole the queen from her bed
And bound her in her bones
The seas be ours and by the powers
Where we will, we'll roam….’
Armand frowned.
‘Yo-ho, all together
Hoist the colors high
Heave ho, thieves and beggars
Never shall we die….’
The tunnel ended in a great room, and beneath the flickering torches he could see more figures watching. Their anger hit him like a wave, even as they parted before them as the witches walked forward. A few even bowed, and then he saw them standing near the head of the Chamber gathered around a broken stone throne.
Gavin Drake. Carbrey. The Oblivion Death Squad. Sinclair Godfrey.
A few feet back lurked the massive form of the Murder Lizard, arms crossed over his chest. Esmeralda stood near him, and just behind them Tarrasque. He thought saw another lizard mask in the crowd, but it was gone.
Donzig reclined on the chair, huddled on it as he hissed the last lines of the song. Blood ran from the slits of his mask, and he held himself oddly as he leaned forward.
‘The time has come,' the Walrus said,
To talk of many things:
Of shoes — and ships — and sealing-wax —
Of cabbages — and kings —
And why the sea is boiling hot —
And whether pigs have wings.'
The Past -
The doors to the great chamber in the heart of the ruined temple burst open, and the Council was on their feet. They turned as one, a few reaching for their masks as Donzig stalked inside. Victoria stared at him from where she lurked in the shadows, and stepped around a pillar as the man in the Dragon Mask rose angrily.
‘You dare to show your face here? We know what you have done!’
The black masked Russian nodded, rising as well as he pointed with his cane. He snapped it against the arm of his chair, and he waved it.
‘You have damned yourself trying to overthrow this council!’
Donzig laughed, a terrible hissing noise that sounded like a dying machine as he shook his head. He tugged on his gloves, fingers twitching as he swept forward with a tilt of his masked head.
‘Enough. I have broken your sad little council’s grip, I have defeated your champions, and all that you once had bows before me.’
‘Our men will deal with you! The Children of the Temple, the soldiers of the 13 families!’
Dragon-mask glared, and he stepped closer before he clapped his hands. The others nodded in approval as they leaned back in their seats. The doors around the hall opened, and the sound of rushing feet echoed through the room. Donzig said nothing, merely stared as black clad figures swarmed into the room. They stared at him with masked faces before he lifted a hand.
They froze, and turned as one to stare at the Council.
The Russian snarled.
‘What is the meaning of this! Destroy him!’
‘Where are your family colors?’ snapped the Dragon. The soldiers of the Order all wore a motley of colors, a riot of them that showed their rank, their training, and their legacy! The ones in the room all wore the same color. A dull black.
Donzig answered with that cold tone.
‘My bitches wear my colors, sir.’
He snapped his fingers, and the Children of the Temple stormed forward as one. They grabbed their former masters, dragging them from their high places around the edges of the room. They were flung to their knees, and their masks were ripped off to be thrown at the bottom of the stone stairs. Donzig climbed the stairs, and slowly dropped down on the crumbling stone throne as he leaned back with a sniff.
‘What will become of us?’ said the man who had been the Dragon of Mexico. Donzig stared at him, and he shrugged as he leaned forward. Hands digging into the arms of the chair, and he purred.
‘You will live. But you will serve us, you will spread the will of Oblivion. Obedire est vivere. Vivere est obedire. To Obey is to live, to live is to obey. Submit and know mercy.’
The old men of the Council stared at each other, their hearts breaking as they looked up at their former minions. Then the Russian tried to rise before the big Albanians shoved him back to his knees.
‘What if we won’t submit?’
Donzig sighed, and he looked towards the tunnel that led to the great pit.
‘It’s a long way down, friend.’
The men stared at him, and they started to stammer over each other. Trying to quickly submit as Donzig leaned back with a nod. Then he waved a hand, and a small group of the henchmen started to drag black caskets into the room. Hoses and tubes dangled from them, and they set to quickly hooking them up before. The men stared, and Donzig laughed once more as he leaned back.
‘Did you think I would take your vows of allegiance and fealty at face value? No, no, no. You must be broken by the Void, you must suffer as we suffered, and you will see the great wheel. Our enemy. You will be reborn to Oblivion by my hand. Purified.’
The man started to protest, but the soldiers of the Order battered them to the ground. Punching and kicking them as they hauled them across the floor to the waiting caskets. Donzig watched them with indifference, his two huge minions at his side. Victoria moved forward slowly, looking nervously at the chaos around her before she spoke.
‘What is this? This is not what we discussed.’
The mask turned to look at her, and the fingers rubbed together as he shrugged.
‘Victoria.’
‘We said we would rule the Council together, that we would use the power of the Order to fix this! We said everything they had would be ours! This is not what we worked for, this is not what we talked about!’
A hiss.
‘You would replace old masters with new. You would have us become like them, dear sister. But no, no, no, that is not what we are about! I will cleanse this sport of kings, I will break it, throw it into darkness! I will give it back itself, stronger! It will burn to ash, and be reborn like a phoenix! My phoenix! I will pave the way to our future!’
His voice had risen to a howl, a shriek that echoed through the tunnels as he slammed his fist down on the stone. He leaned forward, head tilting as he stared at her before he waved a hand.
‘I will break the Great Wheel! I will undo all of these things! I will be the savior of wrestling! Me! ME! ME! The Order is dead, this council is dead! We are Donzig-gun now!’
Victoria stared at him, rage boiling inside of her as she clenched her hands into fists. She stepped closer, and her face twisted before she pointed at him.
‘You! YOU LIED TO ME! YOU USED ME!’
Donzig laughed that weird rasping life like a machine trying to sound human. When had he stopped laughing like a normal person, she wondered.
‘The Scorpion and the Frog, dear sister. You knew what I was when you picked me up.’
Victoria gaped, and she started up the stairs before the Witches grabbed her to pull her back. She struggled against them clawing and fighting as their leader hauled her away from the throne, and she was being pulled towards one of the waiting caskets. Donzig lifted a hand, and he rose to look down at her.
‘No. I will show you mercy. You are exiled, I will not see you again. Leave this place.’
Victoria stared, and she sputtered in rage.
‘You! This was my place!’
‘And now it is ours.’
The Present -
Armand walked forward, glancing at the people all around him before he finally shrugged. He looked at Victoria, and then turned back to Donzig. A glance would tell Von Krauss all he needed to know, Donzig was hurt. The Scourge never seemed to feel pain, but the way he slumped in the seat? The one his breath came in slow gasps? He was hurt.
Armand smiled, and he glanced at Esmeralda before he slowly sank to his knees before the throne. A murmur ran through the crowd, and Armand spread his hands as he looked up again.
‘I offer myself to your service, I yield myself to the Great Dark. I will become one with Donzig-gun.’
Esmeralda stared at him, and then her eyes widened. Sinclair glanced at her fellow minions before she turned to Donzig. But he waved her off, nodding slowly as he murmured.
‘Brother, I knew one day you would see as we all do. The world is broken, it must be destroyed, so it can live again. Rise and take your place at my side once more, Armand. I welcome you.’
Armand hid his own smile, he tried to keep his mind flat and not meet those eyes. Donzig had an annoying way of knowing what you were thinking when he wanted to. And so he leaned back, fingers drumming against each other as he looked down at Armand. The crowd was silent, and then Armand tilted his head before he spoke in a calm even voice.
‘I challenge. You are no leader, you’re no king. You’re weak, hurt, unfit to command us!’
The crowd shouted at that, a few cursing as others laughed. Esmeralda swore, and took a step forward before the Murder Lizard grabbed her arm. He had been here a long time, he knew outsiders like them had no place in this business. The crowd rumbled, whispering and hissing as Mormo and Moloch stepped forward before Donzig held up a hand.
Sinclair turned to him.
‘Name a champion. Drake.’
Gavin Drake stepped forward, his eyes narrowed as he lifted a big fist as he started down the small flight of stairs. Armand stared at him, the Empty Hand was a dangerous man. Donzig glanced around, and he frowned under his mask.
He was hurt, every breath was agony, his great mind was slowed. But he knew if he stumbled here his own children would pull him down. A leader of Donzig-gun could not show weakness, or doubt. And so he rose, hissing in pain before a shaking hand pulled off his mask.
‘As it was, so it shall always be. Challenge accepted.’
Sinclair looked away, biting her lip as Drake stared at Donzig as the Scourge limped down the stairs. He flung off his great jacket, and he lifted his hand to stare at his fingers before he turned to Armand as blood dripped from his nose. He spat, and blood gleamed on the stone as the crowd started to stomp.
Armand laughed, tearing off his suit jacket as he squared up.
‘She was right, Your pride will be your undoing always, no one can be greater than Great Donzig. You knew you were hurt this entire time, but you refused to stop! This will be my greatest triumph, I will take away the only thing you love.’
Donzig gritted his teeth.
‘Shut up.’
He leapt forward, he needed to end this quickly. And his fists flew at Armand, hard fast blows that normally were like hammers. But he was too slow for a creature like Von Krauss, and Armand rolled aside as he weaved under the punches before blocking the last. Then his leg snapped upwards, catching Donzig across the ribs.
Breath would not come, and he gasped as he staggered back with eyes wide. His lungs burned, and he stared as Armand ran in to drive a knee into his face. It was like a bomb in his brain, an explosion of light and agony that sent him sprawling to the stone.
The gathered children of the Fall gasped. Donzig rolled aside from a few kicks, and then he lunged at Armand as he came back to his feet.
His shoulder drove into Armand’s gut, knocking him back as his arms slid around him. He flung Von Krauss towards the ground, but he stumbled as Armand broke free to grab his head once more before he drove a knee upwards.
Blood flew, and Donzig snapped backwards to land on the stone again.
‘Don’t prolong this, old friend. I don’t want to hurt you, but I have to stop you. Victoria is right, you’re a demon. Some kind of demented Godling. Everyday you reign here is one day closer to doom.’
Donzig laughed a broken hissing sound, as he slowly rolled over to drag himself away before he rose. He was shaking, every limb was on fire. Every breath was harder than the last as he spat blood, and he wiped a hand across his mouth as Armand walked closer.
‘Shut up! Shut up!’
‘That is all you have for me? The great and wise Donzig has no wisdom or even jokes to share?’
Donzig threw himself forward, firing off a few stiff elbows that drove Armand back. And he snapped him towards the wall, and then he turned before he charged in to fire a knee at his back. Armand spun aside, and Donzig crashed into the temple wall! Armand wrapped his arms around him, and flung him backwards with a release German Suplex! He rolled across the stone, sprawling there before he started to rise.
He was too far gone. The War in January? The Battle with the Sheik? Belfast with Yamamoto? Even further back to Fowler. Sticky and Conquest. It had all been too much, even for him. Blood ran from his mouth, and he blinked rapidly as his mind seemed to scream at him.
Armand slammed his head against the ancient stone, and then he wrapped his arms around his neck and throat. He wrenched his head backwards, and Donzig flailed as he tried to escape as the hold was tightened as his legs pulled Donzig’s arm outwards. The Scourge howled, and the others screamed in his mind before he finally collapsed.
Armand rose slowly, a smirk on his lips. Sinclair glared at him, and then she slowly lowered herself to her knees. Drake’s fists were tight at his side, and his eyes narrowed before he spat. Then he slowly knelt as well, followed by Carbrey. The Death Squad slowly sank to their knees, and the rest of the crowd moved to follow.
Victoria stepped up beside him, a mocking smile given to the angry face of Esmeralda Von Krauss.
The Endless Now -
Fog roiled in the darkness, and soon enough the mask of the Scourge was shown laying on the black stone of the floor. A voice echoed from the darkness, somehow sad and bitter.
‘My enemies think I am beaten, that I have been broken. But you can not kill what can not be killed. I am the Great Dark, Death in High Places, and no thing, no one, can ever end what I have begun. And so at the Rumble? I will begin again, I will take back all of the things they have stolen. I will reclaim what is mine by right with blood and fire. I will teach them to fear once more. I am the Scourge, I am the cleansing fire of Oblivion, and this world is our prison.’
Something rustled.
‘You see, some of you think I am a joke, or just another fool here for your jokes. But facts are? No one has carved a path of destruction through the XHF like I have! As we enter the third year of the Age of Donzig? I have only suffered singles defeats at the hands of 9 people! Only 9 people on this entire Network have pinned me!
I have suffered 12 singles defeats by pinfall! Only 12! And so at the Rumble? If you’re not one of the Nine? Fuck you. Stay out of my way, this isn’t for you. I don’t have shit for you except pain and suffering. The X-crown is not worth being on my radar.
If you happen to be one of the Nine, and I know you know who you are? Watch your back, I want my pound of flesh. Out of all the creatures that walk or crawl on the face of the dying Earth? You are the Nine, I want to suffer the most!
You see I am the Wonder and Terror of this Age! I am everything I say I am, and what I am saying to you? Is I don’t need your jokes, I don’t need your respect, and I don’t give two fucks about what you say or do? What I want is the X-crown.
And that makes me? The next X-crown Champion.’
The Present -
Armand led the small group through the jungle, glancing back at them with a sneer. Victoria walked beside him, clearly enjoying her moment of triumph as they walked through the moonlight shadows to a small clearing high above the Temple.
The Children of the Fall, the Servants of the Void had started to leave not long after he had won the duel. They had slunk off in small groups, or alone but none had yet to challenge him. Drake and Carbrey had left almost as quickly. Victoria warned him that the so-called Sons of the Conqueror were his greatest foes now. They were widely respected and loved by Donzig-gun, and they were known to be close to Donzig.
They were threats to his power, and he would have to watch them.
The Death Squad had remained, Mormo and Moloch seemed to hate him. But the Death Squad and their kind were the loyal foot soldiers of Oblivion, they would serve even if they despised him. And yet when he motioned for them to lower Donzig they did so gently, settling him on the leaves reverently.
He turned to the others, and he felt malice and hatred watch over him. Esmeralda moved to kneel beside Donzig, her fingers stroking his bloodied face as she cradled the battered and dented mask in the other.
He had wanted the Mask, but Victoria warned him that according to the old lore of the Order a mask carried some part of its former owner inside of it. Donzig’s mask had only ever known one bearer, and the mind of the Scourge was a terrible thing. So Armand had left it, he stared at Esmeralda before he shook his head.
The last person was the Baroness of Donzig-gun, Sinclair Godfrey. She stared at him with hatred, and he knew she was his greatest foe. None stood higher in the esteem of the Children than her. She was the heir of the Scourge, his beloved apprentice, his shadow. Her loyalty to Donzig kept her at his side even now.
And she wanted Armand to die.
He looked away, then knelt down beside Donzig. The half closed eyes of the Scourge were far away, and yet they still seemed to see past him. Armand frowned, and he lightly slapped his cheek before he leaned closer.
‘I should keep you here. Or I should kill you. But no, I want them all to see you now. To see you as I see you. I want you to suffer, and so I will send them to you. I will send you to the Rumble, into the hands of your enemies, Donzig.’
Armand laughed, rising before he walked back into the jungle.
Armand-gun followed him into the darkness.
End Part Five
‘It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.’ -1984, George Orwell
