Post by Dune on Oct 1, 2016 10:58:22 GMT -6
We open on a wide shot of the Mojave Desert. All is still; not even a breeze exists to swathe waves of golden sand across this barren world. All is silent too...that is, until the sound of a motor seeps into our ears. It grows louder, louder, until finally the sight of an automobile enters the frame from the bottom right. From our vantage point it’s indistinguishable, though as we begin to zoom in, we can see that it’s a commercial van. A trail of dust follows, and it slows and billows outward as the white van speeds away from it and toward a nearby horseshoe canyon.
We cut to the shadows of the canyon. The van is barely visible in the distance as it approaches. As it does, we hear a sound behind us and off camera - that of a metallic, automated door sliding open. The heavy crunching of footsteps in the dry soil follows, until finally the hulking frame of a bald man steps through the lens and stands directly in front of the camera. He watches the van creep toward the canyon with his back to us, yet as the camera slowly rotates toward his front, we’re met with a grisly sight.
Dune’s unmasked face is terrible to behold, one that turns the head away yet still manages to draw the eye. The deep scars that line his jaw and the perforations in his cheeks that reveal glimpses of his molars paint his face in an inhuman light...though his piercing blue eyes and the solemn expression he wears makes him simultaneously all too human.
The camera stops when it’s directly in front of him, and his icy blue eyes flick up at the lens as his voice cuts through the stagnant desert air.
Dune: Here comes my Super Nintendo.
Here comes Super Mario World, Super Metroid, Donkey Kong Country, and Diddy’s Kong Quest.
The camera switches to a side shot, and Dune snaps his neck around to meet our eyes.
Dune: Have you heard the Donkey Kong Country soundtrack? It gives me 90’s nostalgia just thinking about it...and I never even played those games when I was a kid. Stickerbush Symphony, Forest Interlude, Aquatic Ambiance...are you fucking kidding me? Best shit ever.
And soon, it’ll be all mine.
We switch to a shot of Dune’s massive back and shoulders and watch as he faces the oncoming delivery van.
Dune: Here comes the Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past. The best goddamn game of all time...ever! You can bet your ass I’m gonna hole up in my canyonside abode and play the shit out of it. And I won’t stop until I’ve taken every castle; until I’ve run across the shadow world and made my mark; until I’ve defeated Gannon once and for all. The pig will roast when I’ve -
Dune’s voice cuts off at the sound of footsteps behind us and off screen. He turns his head to the side, and his terrible scars move with his mouth as he continues.
Dune: Come to see my prized collection arrive, have you old man?
Freeman: No...I’ve come to destroy it before you allowed it to ruin you.
Dune: I’d break your fucking back if you tried.
Freeman: This isn’t Christmas morning, Dune, and you’re not a child tearing open presents in his pjs!
Dune spins around, and the camera switches to a wide shot of the two men staring each other down.
Dune: It IS Christmas morning, Freeman! And you’re right, I’m no child in pjs...I’m a full grown man who’s grown tired of all this.
Dune raises his hand to the sky and waves it around.
Dune: All this has brought me nothing but pain. Now it’s time to start anew. And what better way than tearing into perhaps the greatest video game console of all time?
Freeman: What better way than beating the piss out of ½ of the current UCI Tag Champs? What better way than tearing into Andre Holmes?!
Dune: ...how about tearing into the greatest video game console of all -
Freeman: No! You’ve got a match in 2 days and here you are fantasizing about becoming a pinball wizard!
Dune: Ha! Link is greater than any pinball wizard who ever lived! Samus is more powerful than that deaf, dumb, and blind Tommy ever dreamed to be!
Freeman: Fucking hell…
By now the van is only a hundred or so yards away, and Dune turns in its direction and begins walking toward it.
Freeman: You’ll regret it!
Dune: I regret never having played A Link to the Past. Come to think of it, I regret my entire life, save last year.
Freeman: Ah, and what did you do last year? You conquered the WCF! You conquered the fucking world!!
Dune stops and turns to Freeman.
Dune: Last year is gone, Freeman.
Freeman: So is the goddamn Super Nintendo!
Dune: No...no, that’s right here.
Dune turns back toward the van, which slows to a stop just outside the shadows of the horseshoe canyon. The driver hops out, an aged and portly fellow with a kind face and a thick white beard.
Driver: Ho ho ho there, you must be Mr. Dune? Say, don’t I know -
Dune steps into the light, and the driver’s face goes sour at the sight of Dune’s.
Driver: Ah...ahem...yes, yes, I remember now.
We switch to a shot of the driver as he hurriedly slides open the side door of his van. He speaks to himself as he reaches inside.
Driver: Naughty boy, that one. Very naughty...very -
Dune’s head appears over the driver’s shoulder. The driver turns with package in hand and nearly drops it when he sees Dune standing so near.
Driver: HO, my! Um...uh...here you are, Mr. Dune.
Dune grabs the package and turns back toward the shadows of the canyon. The driver wipes the sweat from his brow and dashes with infinite grace toward the driver’s side of his van. He hops in and speeds away as Dune nears Freeman, who stands waiting with a look of utter disappointment written on his face.
Freeman: I never thought I’d see the day.
Dune: Me neither. Only question now is...which game do I play first?
Freeman: How about the one that brought you to me? How about the one that you know best?
Dune: I’ve never played any of these games, Freeman; I don’t know one more than any other!
Dune passes by Freeman on his way toward the open door within the canyonside, but Freeman grabs him by the arm and spins him around in a rage. Dune drops the box, but before he can react Freeman begins shouting.
Freeman: I get it, Dune! You were on top of the world, and the fall left you broken! But losing the Title to Joey Flash was the best thing for you! No one can stay on top forever, not even you! And who better to drop the belt to than Flash?!
Dune: Is that what you think broke me - losing to Flash at WAR last year?
Silence ensues before Freeman continues.
Freeman: No. But it played a part.
Dune: So did the Jackal.
Freeman: Don’t speak his name. He’s gone.
Dune’s face becomes inhuman as he grabs Freeman by the collar of his robes.
Dune: HE’S NOT GONE, FREEMAN! HE NEVER LEFT! HE’S HERE; HE’LL ALWAYS BE HERE! AND WHAT HE’S DONE WILL ALWAYS BE WITH ME!
Dune lets Freeman loose, and Dune drops to his knees and closes his eyes in exhaustion. Freeman struggles to find the words, instead placing a hand on Dune’s shoulder. A solitary tear comes to his eyes as the thought of his first encounter with the infant Dune comes to mind; as the sight of the now broken man kneeling before him takes its place.
Freeman: I tried, Dune. I tried to protect you. But I didn’t know. How could I have?
Dune: It’s not your fault, Freeman.
Freeman: It is...it is.
Dune stands slowly and meets Freeman’s gaze.
Dune: I tell myself the same thing every day. It’s my fault Pinky’s gone. It’s my fault the child that sprouted in her womb was never born.
Freeman: It’s not.
Dune: It’s my fault Flash’s only son will remain a child for all time. It’s my fault the Jackal turned his eyes on Howard; on Howard’s family. It’s my fault -
Freeman: IT’S NOT!
Dune: And it’s not yours, Freeman. The blame is on him.
Freeman nods and looks way, and Dune pats him on the shoulder before picking up his Super Nintendo and turning back toward the open door. Just before he reaches it, Freeman’s voice cuts through the silence.
Freeman: Don’t let him win.
Dune stops, facing the dark, cool interior of his canyonside abode.
Freeman: Don’t you let him win.
Dune: He’s already won.
Freeman: Fight. One more time, Dune. Fight.
Dune turns as Freeman continues.
Freeman: I know the fire still burns inside you. I know the urge to take out your aggression on someone - anyone - still exists. I know your need to filter out the endless wrath within is still very real.
The camera begins to zoom in on Dune’s contemplative face as Freeman continues.
Freeman: Take back what he took away. Meet Andre Holmes in the ring. Show the world what they’ve been missing. Show yourself what you’ve been hiding away.
Don’t allow yourself to remain in the shadows. Don’t lie down in your darkest hour. A man must have room to fall. That’s what makes him a man. So rise, Dune.
Rise as you did last year. Rise as you’ve done so many times before.
Rise now in the dark, and reach out to the light…
Rise.
With the word, the scene switches to that of a locker room. The roar of a raucous crowd is muffled by the walls that separate them from Dune as he paces back and forth. He’s donned in his wrestling gear, and his half-masked face shoots toward the screen as he speaks.
Dune: Rise, Andre - your time has come.
I’ve been keeping an eye on you. Ever since you signed your WCF rookie contract, I’ve been watching. You had talent. You had experience. But don’t get it twisted - your previous accomplishments in the minor leagues of wrestling didn’t make you an established veteran when you became a member of the WCF roster all those months ago. You may have won some matches against nobodies who nobody remembers aside from yourself, but it meant absolutely nothing. Just as the countless men I bested prior to signing on meant nothing. It’s what we do in the big leagues that matters. You know what I did - knocked off one of the most prolific World Champions of all-time in less than half a year. And what did you do in your WCF career?
Nothing.
Absolutely fucking nothing.
Oh...wait...I almost forgot. You won the Tag Titles.
Congratulations. It took you having a stronger partner than yourself for you to actually accomplish something, if you can call becoming a Tag Champ an accomplishment.
Fast forward to 2016 and UCI, the new major league of pro wrestling...and what have you done.
Oh...well wouldn’t you know it, you’re a Tag Team Champion again.
Congratulations. It took you having a stronger partner than yourself to - you see where I’m going with this, I hope.
So after all this time - all this experience you’ve accrued while I’ve been out of the game - you still haven’t been able to exceed the height of your previous accomplishments. You still haven’t been able to rise and grasp hold of the mountain top and pull yourself onto that glorious peak. And take my word for it, Andre, the sight from up there is a glorious one to behold. Sadly for you, envisioning it in your mind is all you’ll ever be able to do. You don’t have what it takes to wear the gold. Not when others are around to reign supreme.
Others like Howard Black.
Others like me.
I may not have laced up my boots but once in this company, but make no mistake I’m here tonight. I’m here to beat the ever living fuck out of you and re-set the standard by which all other UCI competitors look to. You’ve been fighting week in and week out for this company far longer than I have, and frankly it’s a shame you haven’t been able to set that same standard. You’d let a man whose only fought one other match in this company do so in your stead. You’d let a man whose fought one fucking match in half a year break down the walls of what you surely see as your temple. Well those walls are paper thin, Andre. You’ve built yourself a fortress of playing cards with no foundation to speak of. I’m a goddamn one man wrecking crew, in case you’ve forgotten. And if so, you’ll be reminded tonight.
The sound of the crowd cheering at the end of the match leading up to the Dune vs. Andre Holmes gets Dune’s attention, and he seethes and pops his neck before he continues.
Dune: A last man standing match. Jayson Price must fucking hate you, Andre. What’d you ever do to him? Perhaps he’s disappointed in the fact that you haven’t realized your potential. Perhaps he’s sick of watching a mid-card lifer pick up tag team win after tag team win and fail when it’s time for him to step in the ring and get his shit tossed when it’s time to go one-on-one. Or perhaps he’s just giving the crowd what they want to see...or, rather, what he wants to see. That of course being a brutal beating at the hands of yours truly.
It’s going to be relentless, Andre. It’s going to be the equivalent of Iron Mike Tyson going toe-to-toe with all those motherfucks he used to destroy in the early 90s - worse even. We may fight in the same company, but we’re not in the same league. I’m a World Champion caliber fighter. If I wanted Alex Richards and the belt he wears, I’d step into the ring and take it from him. But that’s not what I want, Andre - not tonight. Tonight I want you. Tonight I want to tear you limb from limb and leave you a bloody pulp in the ring. Tonight I want to show you the meaning of humility. And make no mistake: when I’m staring you down from across the ring just prior that bell sounded the start of our match, you’ll feel smaller than you’ve ever felt before. Of course, you’ll only shrink further once the bell sounds and our match gets underway. And considering the distinct size advantage I have over you as it is, shrinking in my shadow won’t do you any favors.
I’m Dune, and you’re Andre Holmes. If that doesn’t sum it up for you, a thorough beatdown is sure to do the trick. Your “relentless” monicker is based entirely off my fighting style and my history of destroying opponents. A wise man once said that a king who declares himself king is no king at all. The same holds true for your calling yourself relentless. And when we square off in the ring tonight, the only thing that’ll be relentless will be your failure to defend yourself against my incessant onslaught.
It’s like I said, Andre - your time has come.
Dune looks toward the door as the muffled sound of the announcer’s voice draws his attention. After a moment, his icy blue eyes flick back toward the screen.
Dune: Now rise.
David Lynch’s “The Pink Room” blares throughout the arena, and it’s immediately drowned out by the deafening roar of the crowd. Dune exits the locker room, and as the door swings shut, the scene fades to black.
We cut to the shadows of the canyon. The van is barely visible in the distance as it approaches. As it does, we hear a sound behind us and off camera - that of a metallic, automated door sliding open. The heavy crunching of footsteps in the dry soil follows, until finally the hulking frame of a bald man steps through the lens and stands directly in front of the camera. He watches the van creep toward the canyon with his back to us, yet as the camera slowly rotates toward his front, we’re met with a grisly sight.
Dune’s unmasked face is terrible to behold, one that turns the head away yet still manages to draw the eye. The deep scars that line his jaw and the perforations in his cheeks that reveal glimpses of his molars paint his face in an inhuman light...though his piercing blue eyes and the solemn expression he wears makes him simultaneously all too human.
The camera stops when it’s directly in front of him, and his icy blue eyes flick up at the lens as his voice cuts through the stagnant desert air.
Dune: Here comes my Super Nintendo.
Here comes Super Mario World, Super Metroid, Donkey Kong Country, and Diddy’s Kong Quest.
The camera switches to a side shot, and Dune snaps his neck around to meet our eyes.
Dune: Have you heard the Donkey Kong Country soundtrack? It gives me 90’s nostalgia just thinking about it...and I never even played those games when I was a kid. Stickerbush Symphony, Forest Interlude, Aquatic Ambiance...are you fucking kidding me? Best shit ever.
And soon, it’ll be all mine.
We switch to a shot of Dune’s massive back and shoulders and watch as he faces the oncoming delivery van.
Dune: Here comes the Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past. The best goddamn game of all time...ever! You can bet your ass I’m gonna hole up in my canyonside abode and play the shit out of it. And I won’t stop until I’ve taken every castle; until I’ve run across the shadow world and made my mark; until I’ve defeated Gannon once and for all. The pig will roast when I’ve -
Dune’s voice cuts off at the sound of footsteps behind us and off screen. He turns his head to the side, and his terrible scars move with his mouth as he continues.
Dune: Come to see my prized collection arrive, have you old man?
Freeman: No...I’ve come to destroy it before you allowed it to ruin you.
Dune: I’d break your fucking back if you tried.
Freeman: This isn’t Christmas morning, Dune, and you’re not a child tearing open presents in his pjs!
Dune spins around, and the camera switches to a wide shot of the two men staring each other down.
Dune: It IS Christmas morning, Freeman! And you’re right, I’m no child in pjs...I’m a full grown man who’s grown tired of all this.
Dune raises his hand to the sky and waves it around.
Dune: All this has brought me nothing but pain. Now it’s time to start anew. And what better way than tearing into perhaps the greatest video game console of all time?
Freeman: What better way than beating the piss out of ½ of the current UCI Tag Champs? What better way than tearing into Andre Holmes?!
Dune: ...how about tearing into the greatest video game console of all -
Freeman: No! You’ve got a match in 2 days and here you are fantasizing about becoming a pinball wizard!
Dune: Ha! Link is greater than any pinball wizard who ever lived! Samus is more powerful than that deaf, dumb, and blind Tommy ever dreamed to be!
Freeman: Fucking hell…
By now the van is only a hundred or so yards away, and Dune turns in its direction and begins walking toward it.
Freeman: You’ll regret it!
Dune: I regret never having played A Link to the Past. Come to think of it, I regret my entire life, save last year.
Freeman: Ah, and what did you do last year? You conquered the WCF! You conquered the fucking world!!
Dune stops and turns to Freeman.
Dune: Last year is gone, Freeman.
Freeman: So is the goddamn Super Nintendo!
Dune: No...no, that’s right here.
Dune turns back toward the van, which slows to a stop just outside the shadows of the horseshoe canyon. The driver hops out, an aged and portly fellow with a kind face and a thick white beard.
Driver: Ho ho ho there, you must be Mr. Dune? Say, don’t I know -
Dune steps into the light, and the driver’s face goes sour at the sight of Dune’s.
Driver: Ah...ahem...yes, yes, I remember now.
We switch to a shot of the driver as he hurriedly slides open the side door of his van. He speaks to himself as he reaches inside.
Driver: Naughty boy, that one. Very naughty...very -
Dune’s head appears over the driver’s shoulder. The driver turns with package in hand and nearly drops it when he sees Dune standing so near.
Driver: HO, my! Um...uh...here you are, Mr. Dune.
Dune grabs the package and turns back toward the shadows of the canyon. The driver wipes the sweat from his brow and dashes with infinite grace toward the driver’s side of his van. He hops in and speeds away as Dune nears Freeman, who stands waiting with a look of utter disappointment written on his face.
Freeman: I never thought I’d see the day.
Dune: Me neither. Only question now is...which game do I play first?
Freeman: How about the one that brought you to me? How about the one that you know best?
Dune: I’ve never played any of these games, Freeman; I don’t know one more than any other!
Dune passes by Freeman on his way toward the open door within the canyonside, but Freeman grabs him by the arm and spins him around in a rage. Dune drops the box, but before he can react Freeman begins shouting.
Freeman: I get it, Dune! You were on top of the world, and the fall left you broken! But losing the Title to Joey Flash was the best thing for you! No one can stay on top forever, not even you! And who better to drop the belt to than Flash?!
Dune: Is that what you think broke me - losing to Flash at WAR last year?
Silence ensues before Freeman continues.
Freeman: No. But it played a part.
Dune: So did the Jackal.
Freeman: Don’t speak his name. He’s gone.
Dune’s face becomes inhuman as he grabs Freeman by the collar of his robes.
Dune: HE’S NOT GONE, FREEMAN! HE NEVER LEFT! HE’S HERE; HE’LL ALWAYS BE HERE! AND WHAT HE’S DONE WILL ALWAYS BE WITH ME!
Dune lets Freeman loose, and Dune drops to his knees and closes his eyes in exhaustion. Freeman struggles to find the words, instead placing a hand on Dune’s shoulder. A solitary tear comes to his eyes as the thought of his first encounter with the infant Dune comes to mind; as the sight of the now broken man kneeling before him takes its place.
Freeman: I tried, Dune. I tried to protect you. But I didn’t know. How could I have?
Dune: It’s not your fault, Freeman.
Freeman: It is...it is.
Dune stands slowly and meets Freeman’s gaze.
Dune: I tell myself the same thing every day. It’s my fault Pinky’s gone. It’s my fault the child that sprouted in her womb was never born.
Freeman: It’s not.
Dune: It’s my fault Flash’s only son will remain a child for all time. It’s my fault the Jackal turned his eyes on Howard; on Howard’s family. It’s my fault -
Freeman: IT’S NOT!
Dune: And it’s not yours, Freeman. The blame is on him.
Freeman nods and looks way, and Dune pats him on the shoulder before picking up his Super Nintendo and turning back toward the open door. Just before he reaches it, Freeman’s voice cuts through the silence.
Freeman: Don’t let him win.
Dune stops, facing the dark, cool interior of his canyonside abode.
Freeman: Don’t you let him win.
Dune: He’s already won.
Freeman: Fight. One more time, Dune. Fight.
Dune turns as Freeman continues.
Freeman: I know the fire still burns inside you. I know the urge to take out your aggression on someone - anyone - still exists. I know your need to filter out the endless wrath within is still very real.
The camera begins to zoom in on Dune’s contemplative face as Freeman continues.
Freeman: Take back what he took away. Meet Andre Holmes in the ring. Show the world what they’ve been missing. Show yourself what you’ve been hiding away.
Don’t allow yourself to remain in the shadows. Don’t lie down in your darkest hour. A man must have room to fall. That’s what makes him a man. So rise, Dune.
Rise as you did last year. Rise as you’ve done so many times before.
Rise now in the dark, and reach out to the light…
Rise.
With the word, the scene switches to that of a locker room. The roar of a raucous crowd is muffled by the walls that separate them from Dune as he paces back and forth. He’s donned in his wrestling gear, and his half-masked face shoots toward the screen as he speaks.
Dune: Rise, Andre - your time has come.
I’ve been keeping an eye on you. Ever since you signed your WCF rookie contract, I’ve been watching. You had talent. You had experience. But don’t get it twisted - your previous accomplishments in the minor leagues of wrestling didn’t make you an established veteran when you became a member of the WCF roster all those months ago. You may have won some matches against nobodies who nobody remembers aside from yourself, but it meant absolutely nothing. Just as the countless men I bested prior to signing on meant nothing. It’s what we do in the big leagues that matters. You know what I did - knocked off one of the most prolific World Champions of all-time in less than half a year. And what did you do in your WCF career?
Nothing.
Absolutely fucking nothing.
Oh...wait...I almost forgot. You won the Tag Titles.
Congratulations. It took you having a stronger partner than yourself for you to actually accomplish something, if you can call becoming a Tag Champ an accomplishment.
Fast forward to 2016 and UCI, the new major league of pro wrestling...and what have you done.
Oh...well wouldn’t you know it, you’re a Tag Team Champion again.
Congratulations. It took you having a stronger partner than yourself to - you see where I’m going with this, I hope.
So after all this time - all this experience you’ve accrued while I’ve been out of the game - you still haven’t been able to exceed the height of your previous accomplishments. You still haven’t been able to rise and grasp hold of the mountain top and pull yourself onto that glorious peak. And take my word for it, Andre, the sight from up there is a glorious one to behold. Sadly for you, envisioning it in your mind is all you’ll ever be able to do. You don’t have what it takes to wear the gold. Not when others are around to reign supreme.
Others like Howard Black.
Others like me.
I may not have laced up my boots but once in this company, but make no mistake I’m here tonight. I’m here to beat the ever living fuck out of you and re-set the standard by which all other UCI competitors look to. You’ve been fighting week in and week out for this company far longer than I have, and frankly it’s a shame you haven’t been able to set that same standard. You’d let a man whose only fought one other match in this company do so in your stead. You’d let a man whose fought one fucking match in half a year break down the walls of what you surely see as your temple. Well those walls are paper thin, Andre. You’ve built yourself a fortress of playing cards with no foundation to speak of. I’m a goddamn one man wrecking crew, in case you’ve forgotten. And if so, you’ll be reminded tonight.
The sound of the crowd cheering at the end of the match leading up to the Dune vs. Andre Holmes gets Dune’s attention, and he seethes and pops his neck before he continues.
Dune: A last man standing match. Jayson Price must fucking hate you, Andre. What’d you ever do to him? Perhaps he’s disappointed in the fact that you haven’t realized your potential. Perhaps he’s sick of watching a mid-card lifer pick up tag team win after tag team win and fail when it’s time for him to step in the ring and get his shit tossed when it’s time to go one-on-one. Or perhaps he’s just giving the crowd what they want to see...or, rather, what he wants to see. That of course being a brutal beating at the hands of yours truly.
It’s going to be relentless, Andre. It’s going to be the equivalent of Iron Mike Tyson going toe-to-toe with all those motherfucks he used to destroy in the early 90s - worse even. We may fight in the same company, but we’re not in the same league. I’m a World Champion caliber fighter. If I wanted Alex Richards and the belt he wears, I’d step into the ring and take it from him. But that’s not what I want, Andre - not tonight. Tonight I want you. Tonight I want to tear you limb from limb and leave you a bloody pulp in the ring. Tonight I want to show you the meaning of humility. And make no mistake: when I’m staring you down from across the ring just prior that bell sounded the start of our match, you’ll feel smaller than you’ve ever felt before. Of course, you’ll only shrink further once the bell sounds and our match gets underway. And considering the distinct size advantage I have over you as it is, shrinking in my shadow won’t do you any favors.
I’m Dune, and you’re Andre Holmes. If that doesn’t sum it up for you, a thorough beatdown is sure to do the trick. Your “relentless” monicker is based entirely off my fighting style and my history of destroying opponents. A wise man once said that a king who declares himself king is no king at all. The same holds true for your calling yourself relentless. And when we square off in the ring tonight, the only thing that’ll be relentless will be your failure to defend yourself against my incessant onslaught.
It’s like I said, Andre - your time has come.
Dune looks toward the door as the muffled sound of the announcer’s voice draws his attention. After a moment, his icy blue eyes flick back toward the screen.
Dune: Now rise.
David Lynch’s “The Pink Room” blares throughout the arena, and it’s immediately drowned out by the deafening roar of the crowd. Dune exits the locker room, and as the door swings shut, the scene fades to black.
