Gold Rush 2016: Abel Hunicutt vs M

[Dave]

RP deadline is Friday 8th of April at 23:59pm

 

[M]

The unfinished work "The Good Villain" by the Mysterious Mr M is by and large a simple "coming of age" story. It explores the struggles of M's identity as a villain, coming to terms with the notion that in his efforts to become a villain he may have become the exact opposite. However, the work is left incomplete, and any assumptions made might prove to be very wrong if future discoveries of M's chronicles occur.

The text heavily utilises comparative analogies in regards to both the opponents of M, as well as his objectives. Past scripts attempted other methods of addressing these items, but they were ultimately deemed either too blandly direct or too absurdly abstract to be considered of any real quality. The Kingdom Come episode "The Council of Evil" is such an example; M created a scene where he defeated evil caricatures representing the polar opposites of his opponents, but the episode ended up putting consumers off. This time around, M has been much more successful, creating a directness infused with a deeper meaning. The last full chapter of The Good Villain very directly mentioned Diabolos, but also related the underlying themes of Diabolos back to himself in thicker tones than his previous efforts. The chapter as a whole ended up being the most successful M production since his introduction of Teru.

Teru herself has an interesting role throughout the piece as M's missing bride. Throughout the previous works of M, Teru played a big part in helping M stay grounded. The evil side of M could always find the justification behind non evil deeds in Teru, but ultimately M's original alignment switched whilst she had been kidnapped by the Sensational Señor S, leaving M with only a projection of himself to reconcile that he was in fact a good person. Teru's disappearance once again leaves M with only himself to discover, and suggests an equally weighty realisation was to follow. The same could be applied to General Green, though the side story following his thoughts would lead viewers to believe he would be involved in a different capacity on top of his absence being used to create the feeling of M being alone.

The common speculation regarding what could have been the finale of The Good Villain draws the conclusion that M was going to derive similarities between his opponents and his old self, deconstructing the term "Villain" and asking the question "What does it mean to be a villain?". Neither hero, anti hero or evil's definitions are sufficient to label M, leaving a process of elimination to deduce the result that M is a villain, but the question will always remain:

How does M define himself as a villain?

What makes a villain?

Purple told me I'd find Green in "the reddest place on earth" so naturally I'm going to search the Amazon. Thank god for colourblind people.

It isn't something as simple as some sort of recipe. Mixing individual components of what you would stereotypically define as a "villain" would never work.

Do mangoes grow in the Amazon? I could really go for one of those right now... Green's tracks are here, they're pretty obvious actually. It's almost some sort of path of destruction. I know the guy's pretty strong but jeez, innocent trees in an endangered rainforest? What world am I supposed to take over if I don't have trees to help it breathe!

True villains are more unique than a set of known clichés. Individuality is the core, and all things around it are just branches. They'll even grow back when they're cut off, so long as the villain still has its core.

Huh. I thought it was called a rainforest because the humidity makes it feel like it's been raining all day. Didn't know it actually rained, though if you think about it, it does make sense that a place that harbours this much life would see rain fall from the sky... Can't stay mesmerised... I've got to find Green... We'll find Teru together... We'll go to Seattle... I want to order tossed salad and scrambled eggs in a rotating restaurant on top of a really impractical tower and make jokes about forgetting the songs from the big four grunge bands...

Desire. A villain has one true desire; the world. Everything they do revolves around some sort of plan to take control, generic as it sounds. What they want to do once they do take control, however, is something that's never fully explained. Domination for domination's sake yields very uninteresting results; the plateau reached isn't exactly stable enough to build upon and any changes forced upon the dominated are always going to be met with resentment. That would fall into the category of "evil", and while there are indeed evil villains, an evil man without an idea of what comes after the domination will never be a true villain no matter how smart they present themselves.

Oh gosh golly wolly is that a massive house shaped tree or what! Ok that rain in the rainforest thing was a joke but come on, this tree actually grew plumbing and a full HiFi surround sound system! Doesn't seem to be anything connected to it, but good on you, tree! That's a quality evolutionary effort! Shame some miscreant decided to carve "General Green woz here" on the doorway... Oh god dammit...

Will. A hero's will is to do the "right" thing, but that is only under the confines of the comical convention of what "right" is. Villains express their own individual feelings on right and wrong, but unlike an anti hero, they do not resent their choice. Similar to the hero is the unfaltering will to never give up, but differently the villain adapts, changes, bends its will to suit the situation. Indeed the strongest will of a villain is to have their cake and eat it too. There is always a way, and it is the villain's job to garner the will to achieve it.

...General Green? I know you've been through here... I need you around, hilarious conversations about how to deal with Abel and Holmes are in order... It's a little hard to derive a strategy to defeat a dude who's kicked you in the face so hard you actually got counted out when you're just talking to a mirror, as mystifying as it is...

Oh shut up.

Pride. A sin to a hero, but in a villain's hands pride is a symbol of their personality. To the villain, the villain is the greatest thing to ever have existed. To a villain, their plans on how to run the world after its inevitable takeover are the greatest methods of running a society the world will ever see. Selflessly the villain announces his plans - whether or not the tone in which they're announced is comically over the top and the fact they tend to leave out key details to keep their patents secure is neither here not there, but they're the best things in the world when they're being announced. M's final opponent's manager Stephen Holmes holds that pride in his "creation" Abel Hunnicutt, his beaming announcements of his instrument's destruction show that much.

Woohoo! I found General Green! Everything is coming up M!

Stop your stupid dancing around, M. I'm not here to just be some sort of wall you bounce quips about your opponent off. Here's a comedic line: "Abel came close to murdering you last time he was in a match against you, now that you're one on one he's going to kill you"

Oh General Green, Abel's lost to me before, we just need to find a way for us to get him to slip up again. Come on man let's go to Seattle, pick up Teru along the way and dissect this monster's game plan!

You're not going to get Teru back, and I'm not going to Seattle with you.

...Green..?

Pride does not eclipse respect, however. Villains may be crazy, silly, and even a little bit outrageous sometimes, but they're not stupid. Their pride motivates them, willing themselves to find all encompassing solutions because they know their uniqueness will always give them a shot at their desires. They respect their obstacles, because they know they'll have to use the full extent of their abilities to overcome them. M knows full well that he respects Abel, and even Holmes, but the thing he knows most is that if they're villains themselves then they'll respect him. That's what makes them so dangerous.

Do you even know where Teru is?

She's on some sort of 21st birthday fiesta thing isn't she?

No, you idiot, she's being taken care of by Sergeant Scarlet.

Panning over to the left reveals Teru bound by jungle vines and slowly being lowered by Scarlet into a patch of water infested with piranhas.

Hey whaddya know, there really are piranhas in the amazon... OH CRAP! What the hell are you doing, Green?!?

What does it look like, you fool? My wife's lowering yours towards her death. I thought it was pretty self explanatory to be honest.

You know perfectly well why I asked that question! What's your angle? Gonna water your plants with my tears? Is this some hair brained plot to turn Teru into a skeleton? The window for making a dating a skeleton reference closed a long time ago!

You're always just soooooooo optimistic aren't you? What's going on here is simple - I'm sick of you and I'm doubly sick of your wife so I'm killing two birds with one stone. Straight to the point. I'm liking this villain persona.

That's not being a villain, that's just being evil! What about all the good times we had as kids tag teaming against your trainer and your future wife?

That was just you looking over the fence at a kid with his friend beating up a girl and an old man! What sort of messed up reality did you project onto that?!

But I used that to come up with a strategy to get the upper hand on Abel before...

Yeah and this time there isn't a tag team partner you can use to wear him down. It's going to be him vs just you - emphasis on the "just" because Teru's getting dangerously close to the water...

Oh crap you're right!

M dashes past Green with a spin move straight out of some high level agility based sporting contest, and delivers a modified Mega M Flip to Sergeant Scarlet. As Scarlet and M fall into the piranha infested water, M leaps off Green's bride and catches Teru, smashing into some of the weird tree's built in HiFi equipment - but at least they're safe and sound.

Scarlet noooooooooooooooo!

M seizes his opportunity and surprises Green with an M Special locked in extremely tight.

Jesus Christ M this freaking hurts!

What did you expect? I don't know too much about your backstory but you're strong as hell so I gotta pull out the big moves when I can you know?

And that includes PUSHING MY WIFE TOWARDS HER DEATH?

Relax, Green, everyone knows suits of armour negate the piranha's instinct to kill.

But she's only wearing the top half! The bottom half is just a skirt!

Rising up from the waters is a suit of armour, but what is inside it is something no one had expected. It turns out only wearing half the proper suit of armour means that when you're submerged in piranha infested water, although they don't kill their prey, they'll still have a rather violent instinct to leave you nothing like you were before...

Hey looks like you're dating a skeleton!

Scarlet lost a few pounds but she's recognisable, she did always say she wanted to be a little bit skinnier but I don't know if you can call being a literal skeleton (with hair) skinny since you tend to be lacking in the whole "skin" part.

Curses! You win this round, M, but I'll be back! You haven't seen the last of me!

That's more villain like! But you're right. I haven't seen the last of you, because you're coming with me to Seattle!

Dammit M how many times do I have to tell you I don't want to play your straight man? Keeping you in line while you and your damn wife sit around saying "good morning" to each other at three in the afternoon is so. Freaking. Annoying!

Yes, the dynamic has gotten stale... But what if I told you it's only going to be one more time?

What do you mean?

M releases the devastating grasp of the mangling M Special and prepares to announce his plans, but the now free Teru stops him...

He's leaving WZCW.

Both Green and M turn towards the speaker...

(Both): You can talk?!

Of course I can.

Bu-

No one ever asked if I could, everyone just assumed I couldn't...

Bu-

And I went along with it, because my facial expressions and tone of voice in the "good mornings" conveyed more than enough...

Bu-

Enough about me, M's going the leave WZCW. It's his last match, we all need to come together and think of a way he can go out on a high note!

Somehow, M seems to have fallen even more in love with his bride than ever before, showering her with kisses of pure joy and affection while Green is helped to his feet by Skeleton Scarlet...

Hang on, why have you suddenly decided to leave WZCW?

Oh, I'll explain that on our way to Seattle! Come, Green! I can't let someone as dastardly as Steven Holmes or Abel Hunnicutt gain control of the world before I do! My motivational letter to Hayden from last week worked a bit too well and now a whole bunch of people are trying to change what's rightfully mine!

It is not exactly known why The Good Villain was never finished. Some argue it was an artistic choice; the scope of the story may have been made so the consumers themselves relate to M and his struggles, filling in the blanks with their own personal endeavours. Others suggest M left to join the mysterious organisation employing General Green, Sergeant Scarlet and Prince Purple - arguing that it was mighty suspicious that M hung around them an awful lot and using his favourite colour, Magenta, to imply he may have actually been a part of it all along under the moniker "Major Magenta"...

Of course, there is always the possibility that forces out of M's control rendered it impossible for him to continue his work, but that is hardly as exciting.


It's been fun.

 

[FunKay the Inevitable]

Seattle, Washington. The skies darken, night is approaching. And with its coming, there is the beginning of something on the horizon. The skyline begins to burst into life, little dots of light popping up here and there, some in clusters, others erratically. The Sky Needle too changes to its night mode. The sun begins to peek behind the wilderness and into tomorrow. This is the view from the hotel window of one Abel Hunnicutt.

He sits, the light of the sun shedding some light into the room, but as that sinks away so does any illumination. Slowly, light disappears from Abel’s face, engulfing it in darkness. Then, his body, hands, fingers and all of him is sunken into the black. He is alone, consumed by the night. Suddenly, a door swings wildly open in the back. Light floods the room’s entrance and there stands the man with the power and the cane. There stands Steven Holmes.

Holmes: What in the blue blazes are you doing, sitting in the dark?

No response from Abel as Holmes waddles his way in, switching on the main light as he does. Every corner of the room is now exposed. A hotel room. The monstrous Hunnicutt has done nothing in the way of unpacking, his case cast aside, neither flat or straight.

Holmes: In the three hours we’ve been here to “freshen up”, have you merely sat all on your lonesome in this truly appalling excuse for a room, staring out of that window?

Abel offers nothing yet again. Holmes has come to sort things. He gingerly bends over and moves Abel’s case, propping it to its sensible, upright position. Then he moves over to where his behemoth is sat and grabs the typical, ‘homely’ curtains. He pulls one shut, before reaching for the other. He looks to repeat the move, but Abel’s paw catches his wrist. Holmes turns sharply.

Abel: You ever been ‘fraid o’ somethin’ real bad? Like so bad it makes every bone in yer body ache? Every hair on yer neck stand up? Every morsel o’ yer bein’ quiver?

Holmes ponders this for a moment, not moving, in fear that Abel snaps his arm in twain.

Holmes: Can’t say I have chum. No. Why?

Abel: The dark. Ah hated it when ah were little. Mah daddy used ta’ lay me down an’ make me close mah eyes an’ count. He’d sit in an ol’ rockin’ chair, rifle in han’ an’ rock back n’ forth. Back n’ forth. Each time ah heard it creak, I’d count. Soon ‘nuff, put me right out. But when he were away, there was nothin’ for me. He wouldn’ leave me wit’ no one, nothin’.

I’d be all by mah lonesome. He were in some godforsaken hell hole somewhere on the other side o’ the worl’ an’ me, his boy, ah were alone, consumed by darkness, ‘fraid o’ every little movement in the night. An’ let me tell you, ah don’ know nothin’ ‘bout the dark in Eng-land, but in Texas, we had plenty o’ things that went bump in the night.

Patting Abel’s hand, Holmes tries to release himself, trying to pull the giant’s vice like grip open.

Holmes: There, there Abel, I’m just about to finish saving you from the dark now, so let go old boy and I can finish up.

Struggling to find a way out, Holmes tries to pry each finger off of his wrist. His face slowly turns red as he huffs and hays. With all his might he tries to find freedom, but he can barely move one finger let alone five. Eventually Holmes is sweating, gritting his teeth and his face now a beet colour. Frustration is overcoming him.

Holmes: Abel. Abel, let go of my wrist. Bloody hell lad, let go.

Still Abel offers nothing, catatonic from his earlier story, absorbed by his own past. Holmes finds his apprentice ignoring him all the more frustrating. It begins to boil over.

Holmes: ABEL! Let go of my bloody wrist you cretin!

He batters his cane off of Abel’s hand, only meaning to string, not scar. Like a scalded dog, Abel recoils but turns to lock eyes dead with Holmes. A streak of fear runs down the Elite’s spine and that scarlet that filled his face is slowly draining away along with any other colour. He holds his aching wrist and gulps. For the first time, the question comes to him; “what if I can’t control him?”

Then, Abel blinks hard and shakes his head. It is as if he has returned to the room having been taken elsewhere. Humanity also returns; Hunnicutt rubs his hand, aware of the sting of the cane. Holmes’ body too begins to return to normal, all that colour slowly creeping back. Abel has a quizzical look on his face, unsure as to what has occurred. Holmes takes the opportunity to snatch at the curtain and close it. Abel doesn’t even acknowledge it this time.

Holmes stumbles backward onto the bed, neatly, systematically folded, untouched since their arrival. Until now. He sighs with relief and lets his cane slump beside him. After taking a moment to collect himself, the former Heavyweight Champion checks his watch, keeping a close eye on the time. Something is afoot.

Abel: Time?

Holmes: Not yet.

Peering upwards, Holmes sees Abel still staring into space. What lurks in this man’s, nay beast’s, mind? Still bewildered by their scuffle, Holmes doesn’t dare ask lest he set off another ‘event’. He considers returning to his own room – a luxurious suite of course – to get something stiff to drink. He can just imagine it now, trickling down his throat, slowly fulfilling its promise to numb the pain that dwells in his wrist now, and take the edge off the permanent ache in his legs. Indeed, he goes to rise and then…

Abel: Darkness comes to us all, don’ it Master Holmes?

Holmes: Indeed. How very philosophical of you Abel.

Like a wide eyed puppy, Abel turns and again looks his master dead in the eye, this time some glimmer of humanness and sensibility there. These wild changes worry Holmes, but in order to avoid some sort of chaotic swing back, Holmes takes the ball and runs.

Holmes: Darkness is a necessity in life. Without it there can be no light and we all need a good deal of both otherwise we lose our function to exist. Even someone as nihilistic as yourself needs a glimmer of light. If not then we cannot understand what it means to deprive others of it. You yourself described your work as art, a legacy you wish to leave behind. Well what you’ve done and what you will do can only be relished and understood if we have reference and to understand the light and the dark and how they coalesce is vital. Think of it like this. We begin by coming into the light and we end by stepping into the dark.

Abel: That’s why ah was always ‘fraid o’ it. Ah was scared ah was never gonna’ see the light ‘gain. Then ah went into that darkness an’ stayed there. Sat in it, bathed in it, dwelled in it, ate in it, done did everythin’ in it. Mah daddy left me in it fo’ so lon’. It was like the worl’ were there one day, as if everthin’ were normal, an’ then, nothin’.

Holmes: Your father abandoned you?

Abel: Nah man, he put me in it. Like, took me out o’ this worl’ an put me into it.

Allowing the words to run through his mind over and over, Holmes does not grasp the meaning behind what Abel is saying. He lets it replay, slows it down, translates it, but still draws a blank.

Holmes: I don’t follow.

Abel: Mah daddy hit me so hard ah didn’ see no light fo’ two weeks.

The penny drops. Holmes’ eyes widen. He hasn’t gotten to know Abel at all. He has invited this scarred, hurt man who has nothing but sadism to keep him warm, he has invited him into his home, where his lover and child live, and he knows nothing of him other than he is a violent loner who snaps in and out of hellacious fits of rage. He has let arrogance and ego drive him, pushed him to a point where a strange man, more beast than man, is his apprentice and sleeps under the same roof and eat from the same table as him. Is this madness? It most certainly sounds it to Steven Holmes at this very moment.

Abel: When ah come to, nothin’ the same. That was when it firs’ happened. Ah firs’ found that want to maim an’ maul an’ destroy after then. It was the darkness. It took care o’ me fo’ two whole weeks an’ it taught me, it showed me. It ed-u-cated me. Told me ah needed to not worry, but to trust it, let it live through me, help me breathe better, help me move better, help me very well near exist. Tol’ me ah needed to let others see it, let them see the craft o’ it, let them understan’ that darkness comes to us all, an’ that’s what ah was put on this earth to do. To show the worl’ that.

Silence. Holmes looks into the now glazed eyes of Abel, stuck in a rant of his own, a fixation. It would be a lie to suggest Steven didn’t experience fear in this moment. This time more palpable than the last. This time an understanding of what Abel Hunnicutt was capable of. He had long raved and ranted about how this was his monster and under his spell. His tutelage and his instrument of destruction. His all his. He was wrong.

This man was independent, crafted from the bitterness of mankind and brought to him to fulfil a mutually agreeable situation. Holmes’ pride drove him to seek a surrogate, a symbiote, someone to vicariously live through. Abel needed the means to unleash hell and send victims to his true master, this darkness that lived within him. His goal was never to show off a craft and carve a legacy, or at least that wasn’t the central focus of it. No, instead it was to cast fools who dared question that hold over him the darkness had, it was to cast them into the darkness to learn that it, via Abel Hunnicutt, was to be feared and it was making that very clear to Steven Holmes right at this moment.

Abel: Ah jus’ remembered all that. Ah jus’ remembered that the worl’ is mah oyster to crack open and pour out. Theron Daggahshield, Logan Mc-Allister, Diablos, an’ now M. They all gonna’ be victims o’ that darkness, all gonna’ be victims o’ what lurks in me. Ah feel that every day o’ mah life. Ah feel the ache o’ it, gnawing at mah neck, mah knees, all o’ it. M wanna’ talk ‘bout bein’ a vill-ain? Well ah show him vill-ain-y. Am gonna’ show him what a true vill-ain does. It ain’t ‘bout the plots, the plans, the grandiosity o’ it all. Its ‘bout showin’ the worl’ that you stan’ fo’ somethin’ out o’ the ordinary, that the worl’ don’ think is right, but you know is. You showed me that Master Holmes. An’ for that, ah am forever indebted to you.

Holmes: Wait, what?

Abel: Without you, ah would never have understood mah true callin’, mah call to arms I guess you could say.

Hunnicutt lets out a squeal like laughter, snorting and patting himself on the leg like the giddy redneck he is. He eventually calms down.

Abel: The darkness don’ really talk to no one. Not really. Ah mean, shoot, I’d be crazier than a bull in heat to believe that. Nah man, it was a symptom o’ mah ill health. It was this thing that lurks inside o’ me, bubblin’ up fo’ the firs’ time, tellin’ me to fight back and show everyone how dangerous it is. Show everyone the beauty o’ the dark, paint a picture fo’ them if you will. Let them know how I live each an’ every day o’ mah life. An’ without you, man, without you Master Holmes, I’d never have this opportunity. I’d be repressin’ it back in Deadhorse, still sluggin’ back the booze an’ strugglin’ in the endless sea o’ black oil. Thank you.

A bizarrely sincere smile crosses Abel’s face and a relieved one comes to Holmes. Abel Hunnicutt was his instrument of destruction. He was a symbiotic partner, taking out Holmes’ own frustrations and angers and he would follow him, perhaps foolishly, to ends of the earth if need be to satisfy his master. And it delighted Holmes. His smile genuine and bearing teeth in that most sinister of ways, a new thought came to him: what if, things were to take a wrong turn with Abel? What if he needed to be put down like a rabid animal hungry for blood with no sense of direction or goal? What then?

BZZZ
BZZZ
BZZZ​

A vibration and a buzz. Holmes pats himself down, searching for the source of the sound, digging deep into one pocket, then another. There it is. He pulls out his phone, clicks a button and once more authenticity creeps into his face.

Holmes: It’s time.

What if Abel turned? What indeed…