Identity By Any Other Name [DT EOD Finals RP]

[Dave D-Flipz]

"Shit, not the legs again. Need to … "

*DT plants a boot on the ass of the Icon and shoves as hard as he can, his head rocking back to the mat.*

"He’s off me, I need to get up and see where he went."

*Jack Diamond careens across the ring and gets obliterated by a punch from Mistress Discipline. She hops off the apron and sticks something back into her blouse. Jack stumbles, DT spins to his feet and sees Jack stumbling towards him, catches the arm and drops him to the mat then locks in the Death Trap. He sits down and wrenches back with all his might, he feels the resistance nearly instantly fade. A smile crosses his face. The ref calls for the bell. DT spikes Jack’s face to the mat and stumbles to his butt trying to get blood flow back to his legs. His cohorts slide into the ring, a glint of brass JUUUST visible if you looked hard enough at the shirt of Mistress, and celebrate with him. He, none the wiser to the help, jubilant with glee.*

"Two time X*Crown champ. Not on my level. Bring on the next."

*We open up in an XHF branded private jet. Normally a fan of traveling with the people, in first class because he IS a narcissist, DT shows unusual joy being in the air alone with his 4 compadres. He sits in one single lounge seat. In the seat across from him is his wife, sporting a visible bruise on her right hand in the exact shape of brass knuckle finger rings. In the seat next to our EOD Competitor is his buddy Funaki, who is a little amazed by actually being in anything other than economy class, and is just soaking in the whole thing. A glass of champagne in his arm rest, his eyes darting around the cabin and to the window. In the seat across from him is Dr. Chaos, leaning over towards her best friend. Sarah is in the back of the plane on a large couch, playing on her Switch, Poka the pet rat, sat on her tummy.*

"So, on a boat again. Did you pack the one piece or two?"

"It is two pieces, but if you think I am showing my midriff, you are very much mistaken."

"That’s fine, I’ve got all the midriff for the both of us."

"YEAH YOU DO! In related matters, please refrain from overindulging on Mongo’s free candy on this flight."

"You were right, hon. I am in need of some relaxation after that win. I know I usually like to fly with my fans and sign autographs, but I need this rest. A little quiet and reflection on the astounding success I’ve had, and my coming End of Days tournament victory."

*There’s that narcissism again …*

"I think we did very well against a competitor as formidable as Jack Diamond."

"And don’t forget the importance of ‘we’ time."

*Sarah’s ears perk up. She turns her head to her mother and yells-*

"SWITCH!"

*Chaos ignores this.*

"There is a bed in the back, wink wink."

"… Ew …"

"As nice as a nap sounds-"

*Chaos facepalms, Sarah giggles*

"I do have preparations to attend to before my coronation. So before we land in the golden state and shower me with more than you two will know what to do with-"

"GAH! PHRASING!"

"A toast. To the true Icon of the XHF!"

*They all raise their glasses and clink them, Sarah rolls her eyes on the couch and goes back to Animal Crossing.*

"You got this, best buddy."

"To success."

"To our X*Crown title reign."

"To victory."

---

*Our scene reopens on Cabrillo Beach in San Pedro, CA. Our plucky crew of sometimes-do-wells sit and soak in the sunshine while watching the tranquil waters as the XHF Sailbarge is slowly towed into its location a mile or so off the shoreline. Sitting in reclined beach chairs and sipping Shirley Temples, sit Mistress and Chaos. Mistress is in her modest two piece, showing no midriff, as promised. Chaos is in a pink two piece, showing significantly more midriff. Funaki sits about 200 feet behind them under a large beach umbrella on a towel, panting for air, a huge pack still attached to his back, and a cooler on the towel next to him. Sarah can be seen swimming in the calm waters just off shore. DT strolls up with a tequila sunrise, wearing nothing but a new bowler hat (PERFECTLY FITTED THIS TIME, ZORAN), and board shorts, rather short and branded with his own logos and nickname, because of course.*

"*under her breath to Mistress* Still say he shoulda gone with the banana hammock."

"*pulling down her sunglasses to look at Chaos* I do not share."

*The women smirk to each other before DT plops onto a towel between them.*

"Ah it is good to be back where the gold is, ladies. Yes I can hear the fans cheering my name now. It’s going to be so satisfying being the man who takes down the Icons by myself. Better than any Seth Dillinger or Hyperion or Caffrey ever could. I can’t wait to get in that ring and devastate Jason Long. Hmm … do I make him tap? Maybe pull out the old baseball bat? Oooh how about for a change of pace I choke him out with the -"

"The only weapon you need to worry about is the ocean."

*DT stops and cocks an eyebrow*

"Say what?"

"Yep, Memaw says you will be wrestling on a very thin piece of driftwood with ring ropes. Probably getting very seasick. Ground will be very wet and good luck with balance …. I’m sure you’ll do fine."

"Goddamnit Mary. Well I’ll still make him tap, his neck is basically peanut brittle at this point-"

"Hon, you may only pin. Pin it to win it!"

*Death Trap lowers his sunglasses.*

"Hm… hmmm … uh huh …"

*DT quickly wraps his towel around his face to smother the sound of-*

"FFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-"

"He’s not taking this as well as I thought he would."

"Well this is putting a damper on his revised style."

"Revised style? Just because there’s no weapons. When was the last time he used a weapon in a match?"

"No no, the main issue is the lack of ability to win via submission hold."

"Yeah, it’s not like we can be ringside either."

"-UUUUUUUUCK! Why does Mary hate me so?"

"Because you’re not her granddaughter."

*Funaki approaches the trio with a pack of 4 sandwiches, without sand of course. He hands off the turkey to Chaos, the roast beef to Mistress, and the buffalo chicken to DT. He keeps the smoked salmon for himself. The edges of the salmon in the sandwich appear to have been chewed by small rodent teeth from the small bite marks. Funaki misses this detail.*

"Ok ok, so she has me in a farcical pantomime of a match. Good think I’m not the twat who is going to attempt to use aerial attacks. Do you think sharks eat bloviating choke artists? I could just shove Mav into the ocean when he stumbles and slips on the top rope."

"Attempting to put weight on the top rope is a bad idea. And sharks are unlikely to attend the event regardless."

"I know going to the top is a bad idea. But Jason can’t hope to compete with me in a pure striking battle. That air assault was his only advantage over me. Now that I think about it this match might be a blessing in disguise if I can keep my own footing. It’ll even out the speed and neuter his agility advantage. In a pure brawl, my martial arts skills far trump anything Jason can throw my way."

"Sadly this is a CAR joint, so you WILL need to refrain from snapping the poor man’s papier mache neck like a twig. PG-13 violence is frowned upon by the dear matriarch of CAR I’m afraid."

*DT stands up in a huff and quickly downs his sandwich before walking off to the beach blanket and umbrella.*

"Guys my sandwich tastes weird…"

*Chaos turns to Mistress*

"I’m sure he’ll be fine."

*Poka leaps from the beach chair onto Funaki’s sandwich. Funaki lets out a scream like a little girl in a slasher film.*

"At this point, I am less worried about my husband than I am about the freeloader."

---

*DT sets up his phone to record and sits on the beach blanket, being sure to frame his abs in the picture, his face half in the shade of the umbrella, and half illuminated by the glare of solar rays being reflected off the crystal clear water nearby. A single cloud seems to obscure the sun over the section of the beach where Chaos and Mistress sit, while Funaki has run into the ocean with Sarah to try and get the rat off of his sustenance.*

"Jason ‘Maverick’ Long. You know who I am. I am the main attraction. The two time X*Crown champ. The former End of Days winner. You know how I operate. And you must be aware of the target you have on you right now. That brittle neck of yours, not the best status for a man going into a fight with a submission master, especially one with as many ways of destroying that same delicate connector of head to torso. And then let’s not even get started with all the physical beatings you’ve taken the last three weeks. Man Jesse and EVK? I’d be upset if I were you."

*DT crosses his arms and nods sympathetically, letting out a brief chuckle.*

"The world … knows who I am. And what I am. What I am? Is better than you. More valuable an asset than you. More marketable. More approachable. A better draw. A true main event level talent. A once in a generation superstar. I have done so much around this place. And I am only going to accomplish more. But Dave! You are so close to retirement! HAHAHAHAHA! Oh hypothetical retort maker behind the camera, you crack me up. Have you seen me the last few weeks? I am back in top form. I am the conqueror of the Icons. I am a living motherfucking XHF Legend! … Oh don’t worry I’m not after your mother … after all, necrophilia is wrong."

*He lets that statement linger, that wasn’t very nice.*

"Yes, you know all about me. But … what about you? I don’t think you know about you. After all, you change up your presentation so often it’s real hard to keep track. Jason Mavis, oh wait, Long. Maverick. The last breathing mercenary … ok that one is just precious. The best bout machine … I take offense at that one. The catalyst, the prince of thieves, the king of immortality, the last real icon … can’t believe Jack and Bobby let you get away with that one. The legend killer … ok are we REALLY saying Eric Dane is a legend? You’ve had so many names it’s hard to remember them all. Every time you suffered a setback you’d change who Maverick was. Who Jason Long was. I swear sometimes it’s like you’ve had seven different faces and hairstyles over the … what … five years you’ve been in XHF? Constantly reinventing yourself. And why is that?"

*DT leans forward and lowers his sunglasses again to look into the camera.*

"Because you don’t fucking know who you are! Are you the upstart icon? The leader of the ragtag new lite diet icons? The murderer? The genocidal monster? The extrachronological guardian? An interdimensional criminal? How can you hope to beat someone as talented as me when you don’t even know who the fuck you are? It’s real hard to build any momentum with an identity crisis every third Wednesday!"

*DT sits back and pushes his glasses back onto his head. He reclines back on his elbows and smirks*

"Let me remind you of who Jason Long REALLY is. The inferior icon. The man who lost his right to challenge for a title for two YEARS to his protégé. A man who took five tries to beat Seth Dillinger and only won by letting Seth throw himself to the edge of a balcony then nudging him over. Jason Long, the man who retired from his own tag team title run to go play in MCCW because he couldn’t stand the pressure. Jason Long, who never got higher than the State of Ohio title when faced with real competition. Maverick, the choke artist who failed to beat Jack ONCE before Jack Diamond pinned him to the mat twice. Always so close yet so far. YOU LOST YOUR FRIEND’S ENTIRE BUSINESS TO ANTHONY CAFFREY! It took Diamond’s 13 just to steal the damn place back from Mongo. Mav, you can say a lot of things about me. Up until the 2020s I’ve had an issue defending my titles. But at least I actually have a history of WINNING them."

*DT sits up and grabs a soda from the cooler, having left his liquor with Funaki, a foolish miscalculation*

"Jason face it. You may have held that X*Crown once. But that was because Bobby fucked up hard. And not for the first or last time. He had a habit of losing to massive underdogs. You, like all the icons … are just mid. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news but the truth hurts. Who Jason Long is … is a broken shell. A man reprogrammed so many times he no longer has any identity at all. Well, other than choke artist loser. With almost as many losses in huge title matches as he’s had girlfriends."

*A smirk forms on his face as he gulps his soda*

"You’ve had a strong run up to this point. But Jack Diamond is your better. And I’m his. Face it Mav. Your career is already on borrowed time. I may be the elder statesman in this match … but you’re fighting just to stand up straight. This just … isn’t your time. Once again you have risen just to the top … only to choke in the end. And now it’s on me to bury your career 20,000 leagues under the sea. Because even on a scrap of plywood with ropes barely adrift on the sea, I am still the best technical wrestler in the world. And you? You’re just broken. Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Hard to support it all with a broken fucking neck…"

*Fade out*