The Devil You Need [DB 05]
Apr 20, 2024 21:18:08 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer, Dave D-Flipz, and 1 more like this
Post by mosler on Apr 20, 2024 21:18:08 GMT -5
Detroit.
The Motor City.
How much oil consumption was the metropolis responsible for? In another timeline, our protagonist might have become the black ooze that feeds the automotive beasts.
Eat or Be Eaten.
Motown has seen better days. It is not alone in that regard. So depressed he can barely move, The Dread Lord has been corralled to the home of this year's Rumble by his oldest friend, William Stokes. It was a long trail. Having delivered his stock, Tumbleweed catches some much needed shuteye at their bedbug infested Viking Motel. Wandering through rough neighbourhoods in a manically depressed stupor, The Dread Lord has finally come to a rest on a broken bench in Rouge Park. The few muggers that passed the monster thought he was a piece of abstract art, commissioned by the city as part of the revitalization push. Had these criminals tried to rough up the creature, however, there would be little Bones could do - as tragically, he is no longer able to eat people. Lost in thought, Bones barely moves as the afternoon burns away into early evening.
Heavy rain. Trees offer a slight canopy, but little protection. The downpour is so fierce that within minutes, a large puddle has formed at the foot of the the dracolich's sanctuary. Oblivious to the cold water pooling into his various crevices, the T-Rex skeleton stares down at his own reflection in the puddle. An alpha predator that can no longer hunt. How ridiculous. Bones is tempted to swallow The Sheik just to put both monsters out of their misery. As the raindrops intensify, the tiny waves in the puddle distort The Dread Lord's image until he can no longer recognize himself. At a complete loss, the question now becomes: who is Dinosaur Bones now? If the rippling teeth in the water have an answer, they remain silent.
How much time passes? Dusk. Given the infrastructure problems that the city still faces, and limited lighting in the park, its definitely a location to abandon before night. Still trapped in his own skull, Bones is oblivious to a stray dog that is trying to make off with his leg. The canine must thinks its Christmas, undeterred by flashes of lightning, as it fights to dislocate the left tibia.
"Ssshoo."
A shady figure emerges from the brush.
When the ravenous mutt won't take a hint, the shadow spits a stream of green slime at its feet. Startled, the dog lets go - then starts to growl at this rival for the bone.
"Hissssssssss."
A flash of lighting is reflected off a razor sharp talon. This is enough to deter the mongrel, who scampers off into the unkempt underbrush with a defiant yap.
"Small dog sssyndrome."
Shaking his head at the nuisance, the sinister figure turns his pearly yellows to the broken Bones.
"Seems to be a lot of that going around these daysss. Have a pleasant evening- wait, Bones?"
The shadow does an exaggerated triple take at the familiar face, which finally coaxes the barely functioning depressive to look up.
Dinosaur Bones:
SORRY, I'M NOT GOOD WITH APE FACES...
"Then it's a good thing, it's just us reptiles here."
This time lightning strikes a nearby tree, the light source close enough to fully illuminate the ghoulish features of The King of Snakes.
Vile "Vince" Viper:
Vile Viper. It's been a spell, Bones - how have you been?
Dinosaur Bones:
AT THE END OF MY TETHER.
Vile "Vince" Viper (still smiling):
Yeah, life is tough these days. Sorry to hear you've been put through the grinder (raising a claw to block the rain from his eyes) - look, we should get out of this soup. Have you eaten?
Dinosaur Bones:
...
Vile "Vince" Viper:
I know this great little restaurant just north of here - might not be up to your health code ssstandardsss, but it's dry. Let's catch up over a BITE... naturally my treat.
Dinosaur Bones:
I AM NOT REALLY DOING FOOD THESE DAYS.
Vile "Vince" Viper:
Good for you - not being defined by the old tropes that fans have seen a dozen times before. A fresh take, unlike some of your colleagues that are just going through the motions, recycling that same old ssssssong. As Einssstein said, "Insanity is doing the exact same fucking thing over and over again and expecting different results." Donzig must not be big on physssicsss.
Old Scratch helps the massive fossil off the bench...
Dinosaur Bones:
YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND... MY STOMACH IS DEAD TO ME. ...MORE SO.
Vile "Vince" Viper:
Nonsssenssse. I'm sure they'll be able to rustle something up that whets your infamous appetite... for destruction.
As water empties from his ocular cavities, The Dread Lord wonders where he knows this peculiar ape from.
The Whitney.
A lumber baron's mansion that has been converted into an upscale dining establishment.
Clearly making management rethink their dress code, The Dread Lord and Scarlet Serpent find themselves on opposite sides of a large table on the second floor. Spring showers continue to beat down against windows, obscuring their view of the garden.
Looming over the table, the dracolich's ghost lights burn brighter as he scans the chimp's face for recognizable marks. No longer obscured by rain, or darkness, the elderly albino has applied a generous application of spray tan, which along with the pinkish hue of a leather suit - makes the pudgy villain look like a honey glazed roasted ham.
Dinosaur Bones:
...ARE YOU SURE I DIDN'T EAT YOU?
Having finished ordering for the two, 32theV hands the server back the menu before acknowledging the statement.
Vile "Vince" Viper (fiendish grin):
Oh, I think I'd remember something like that.
Possible dressed as poultry? The Dread Lord's mind is covered in a haze, so he could be mistaken.
Dinosaur Bones:
THAT IS A RELIEF. I WOULD HATE TO THINK OF MORE OF MY FOOD ESCAPING.
Vile "Vince" Viper:
Has that been happening a lot lately?
Dinosaur Bones:
I NOTICED A NUMBER OF PAST MEALS HAD SIGNED UP FOR THE RUMBLE...
Vile "Vince" Viper (clapping claws together):
So you added your name to the dumpssssster fire, determined to reunited wayward lambsss... nay... misssssssing morssselsss... yes... back to your (pointing at gut) ...five star accommodations?
Dinosaur Bones (looking down in embarrassment):
ACTUALLY DIGESTING THEM AGAIN WAS A BONUS, MY GOAL WAS TO SAVE FACE AGAINST THE CITY OF SIN BY TURNING SPIKE KANE INTO A SANDWICH.
Vile "Vince" Viper:
Noble. And multitasking - good for you.
Dinosaur Bones (hyperventilating):
ONLY... NOW... THE... ONLY... SPIKE KANE SANDWICH... I CAN EAT... IS A WISH SPIKE KANE SANDWICH.
Vile "Vince" Viper:
Wherein you take two pieces of bread and wisssh Ssspike Kane was between them?
Unable to speak, because its taking all his nervous breakdown energy not to cry, the T-Rex skull nods his confirmation.
Vile "Vince" Viper:
Given how often he randomly portals around, that might actually work.
The prospect of the wish sandwich coming true, does little to console Bones - who was worried enough about keeping his appetite under control without worrying about food magically jumping into his maw.
Dinosaur Bones:
GOD I HOPE NOT.
Vile "Vince" Viper:
Cheer up, Bonesss - if Ssspike Kane raising your cholesterol is the worst of it, that's the textbook definition of a first world problem.
What first world does VVV live in? ...and what dictionary does he own for that matter? Before the questions can be broached, a number of waiters bring a dozen serving trays to the table, laying out a feast that would put the Blues Brothers to shame. For every filet mignon, beef wellington, or lobster that is revealed, Bones tension grows. Unable to look at the table, which continues to pile up with food until it looks like the Lost Boy dinner reveal from Hook, the dracolich tries to focus on his host. This too is difficult, as Triple V seems to be covered in barbecue sauce to cover up his albino features. It must be a trick of the lights, as apes rarely base themselves in chipotle, unless they wanted to be eaten.
Vile "Vince" Viper:
Dig in!
Dinosaur Bones:
I HAD BETTER NOT.
Vile "Vince" Viper:
Eat pal - (chuckle) you're all skin and bonesss!
The Freakshow Stopper shovels a hamburger into his fanged gullet, visibly fattening himself up in front of the dracolich - as if to tease the creature.
Dinosaur Bones (raising tiny t-rex arms to block out the view):
I CAN'T!
Vile "Vince" Viper:
Never thought I'd see the day that YOU of all people would turn down a meal. Are you sure you're REALLY Dinosssaur Bonesss?
Dinosaur Bones:
.......I AM STARTING TO QUESTION IT MYSELF.
Vile "Vince" Viper (disingenuous empathy):
Well this certainly sounds serious.
Dinosaur Bones:
FOR THE SAME REASON THAT THE RUMBLE WILL BE MY UNDOING. YOU SEE I WAS PREPARED TO MAKE AN EXAMPLE OUT OF SPIKE KANE ON BEHALF OF MY FELLOW ELDER GODS TO AVENGE OZYMANDIAS... ONLY A STRING OF DIGESTIVE CURIOSITIES LED ME TO AN APE SHAMAN WHO TELLS ME IF I EAT ANOTHER PRIMATE, IT WILL SPELL MY DOOM.
Vile "Vince" Viper (deadpan):
Well that is a shame. ...you don't want to mess with shamans. If you're hearing that advice on medical groundsss, your hands are tied.
Dinosaur Bones:
YES, ON THE EVE OF MY FINEST HOUR TO HAVE MY GREATEST WEAPONS - MOUTH AND STOMACH - SNATCHED FROM ME, IS MOST REGRETTABLE.
Vile "Vince" Viper:
And you know all those lesser apes are going to take advantage of your weakened ssstate... no wonder you're not eating. I'd be upssset too.
Dinosaur Bones:
NO, I AM NOT EATING BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO RISK OBLIVION. THE SHAMAN WAS VERY SPECIFIC, ANYTHING BUT SALAD COULD BRING MY CONSCIOUSNESS TO AN END.
Vile "Vince" Viper (eating another burger but nodding to show he's still listening):
They tend to know their stuff. ...Well that sucks, Bonesss. I'm glad we got the chance to see each other before it goes down at leassst.
Uncle Vile continues to put food away like he was the real dracolich, his belly distending - practically begging to be eaten.
Vile "Vince" Viper:
...If you do decide to go out on a high note, Bonesss, seems like taking Kane with you would at least be a heroic sssacrifice. You disappear, but in taking someone else out, you make a lot of people happy. I know the whole murder sssuicide assspect is frowned upon... but it might be worth thinking about.
Dinosaur Bones:
I AM COMMITTED TO EATING SALADS.
Snort.
Vile "Vince" Viper (covering chuckle):
Come on, pal. This is me you're talking too... don't kid a kidder.
Dinosaur Bones:
I CAN DO IT!
Vile "Vince" Viper (putting down third hamburger, and raising a calming claw):
...I hear you, Bonesss. Really I do. No one is doubting your... ssself control. (smirk) Besides, everyone needs to diet from time to time...... and diets were made for cheating on!
Dinosaur Bones (shoving fillet mignon further away from his plate):
NO, THE STAKES ARE TOO HIGH!
Vile "Vince" Viper:
There is always a loop hole...
Dinosaur Bones:
I APPRECIATE WHAT YOU'RE TRYING TO DO BUT...
Vile "Vince" Viper:
For example, you can't eat MEAT... but what about LIQUIDSSS?
Dinosaur Bones:
....................I'M LISTENING.
Vile "Vince" Viper:
Eat Ssspike Kane? Inssstant Death. DRINK Ssspike Kane... who has been crushed into such a fine paste that he can no longer be considered a person.... and are you really consuming Kane? Seems like a grey area.
The ghost lights retract into pin points.
Dinosaur Bones:
THAT... COULD WORK.
Vile "Vince" Viper:
No could about it. You will need to win the Rumble though... you'll need that winner'sss purssse. Juice o'matics weren't designed to process 27 neatly cut pieces of Bloodied Fox. You are going to be going through A TON of industrial juicers to maintain this diet. Death Trap alone might go through two of the machinesss. ...Oh, and if any promoters find out about this, don't let them rebrand you into Da Juicer - that's as dead end as gimmicksss go.
Trusty red crayon in hand, Bones starts writing these sage like nuggets on the tablecloth. The scrawls resemble hieroglyphics. In the middle of drawing a crude bird, Bones suddenly stops.
Dinosaur Bones:
I APPRECIATE THE ADVICE... BUT THIS CAN'T WORK. THE RUMBLE IS GOING TO FINISH ME. THOSE APES WILL ALL BE GUNNING FOR ME, MIGHT EVEN TRY TO FEED ME NOEL TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS. AND UNABLE TO EAT THEM AS SOLIDS, I AM DEFENCELESS.
Viper shakes his head.
Vile "Vince" Viper:
You really are ssstuck in your head, kid.
Dinosaur Bones:
HOW SO?
Vile "Vince" Viper:
Question. Where does an 800-pound Gorilla sit?
Dinosaur Bones:
BY BANANAS?
Vile "Vince" Viper:
Wherever the hell he wantsss! You're the underdog in that match? GROW UP. You're bigger, tougher, and nastier than anyone else in that rumble. YOU ARE THE ATTRACTION... and in a contessst where the goal is getting you over the top rope? There isn't a person in that ring that has the upper body strength to throw you over, even if you do starve yourssself.
Dinosaur Bones:
BUT I CAN'T EAT ANYONE.
Vile "Vince" Viper:
That's not stopping you from biting Marty Donovan in half - just don't swallow! Let the other participants worry about headlocks and suplexes - your genetically predisposed to not having to care. You don't have to wrestle them. They have to wrestle AROUND you. ......Christ, I don't know who put the idea in your head that you had to become a technician-
Dinosaur Bones:
IT WAS CROSS RECOBA...
Vile "Vince" Viper:
It was a Rib, more likely. Tap Out is sending Random and Sssawyer, two of the smallest participants in the damn match... not counting children and animals. Crosssss is in the business of selling the idea that ninety pound Sssawyer has a mean right hook. That is less realistic than a reanimated tyrannosssaurusss corpssse with an eating disssorder. Do not let them psyche you out... you winning the crown would be the best thing for the Network, as you're inexplicable more active than Fox and Kane, less volatile than Donzig, and dessspite the fact that your federation'sss rossster is literally being turned into excrement, it has somehow attracted more traffic than CAR.
Dinosaur Bones:
FEDERATION?
Vile "Vince" Viper:
Plus you have a tail! Why use your mouth when you can just channel your inner Babe Ruth, and swing that thing like a bat, knocking the Rumble Fodder into the god damned bleachersss! BATTER UP!
Having jotted most of this pep talk down in red crayon, Bones scans through the more lurid scribbles.
Dinosaur Bones:
I ACTUALLY HAVE A CHANCE-
Vile "Vince" Viper:
You have more than a chance, Ssslugger.
Reaching out with his tiny claws, Bones lurches across the table, and clasps Viper's spray tanned wrist.
Dinosaur Bones:
TEACH ME!
Vile "Vince" Viper:
I don't know... I'll have to eat in front of you quite a bit, and I don't want to be a torturer.
Dinosaur Bones:
PLEASE, YOU'RE MY ONLY HOPE!
Vile "Vince" Viper (pulling arm away, and straightening tie):
No argumentsss there.
Uncle Vile seems delighted in making the skeleton sweat.
Vile "Vince" Viper:
Fine. My training regime may be considered unusssual, petty, cruel, ineffective, and a "hate crime" - so just remember.... you ASSSKED for it.
Dinosaur Bones:
I SWEAR, I WON'T LET YOU DOWN.
Vile "Vince" Viper (faint smile):
Of that, I have no doubt...
With that a hideous union is formed. The Dinosaur starts to punch a beef wellington, in the hopes of pulverizing it into a liquid. ...But quickly switches to a salad, with less potential risk of the void. The programming runs deep. Watching Bones switch to the leafy greens, VVV suppresses a reaction, instead turning to the water running down the window. The gentle stream against the glass lends itself to a dissolve...
Weeks earlier...
"hwaaaaaaa-"
With the final dry heave, the last cables attaching the hot air ballon to Bones' throat are freed. The large deflated craft splashes out into the alleyway, making a sickening thud as it slams into a dumpster.
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes:
Jumpin' Jehoshaphat, Bonsey - you alright?
Dinosaur Bones:
...fine.
The Extinction Connection make their way out of the alley, putting some distance between them and the giant pool of sick.
"GASP."
An odd sound causes the videographer to pan from the heroes back to the balloon. Covered in pink sludge like it had just emerged from the other side seen in the Poltergeist, part of the red polyester flap begins to shuffle. In its organic state, the movement in the deflated balloon looks like the ventricle of an especially sickly heart. After some struggle, a single talon pokes through the nylon... and cuts an opening.
"Gassssp."
Covered in slime, bile, and god knows what else - the Wizard of Bone crawls out of his hot air balloon.
Crawling five feet through the muck, before collapsing - the wizard continues to struggle to breathe, until removing his hood.
The XHF Gobbledygooker... without the feathers, the RSPWF 2005 wrestler of the year.
Slumped back in the pool of sick, wiping off slime, coughing up bile - Vile "Vince" Viper stares up at the starry heavens, and immediately begins plotting his revenge.
There are going to be serious consequences for the indignities suffered.
Bones will learn to digest faster... and that in this world? It's...
Eat or be eaten.