MD 73: Black Dragon vs. Mr. Baller (Non Title)

[Ty Burna]

We have ourselves another "KFAD competitor vs. Two out of Three Falls competitor" match as Mr. Baller will take on the EurAsian Champion in a non-title contest. Although nothing is on the line, both men are looking to make statements heading into Kingdom Come to establish themselves as major threats. It won't be easy for either man as both have slowly risen the ranks... but the question remains: which man will continue to rise and who will be left at a complete halt?

Deadline is Tuesday, May 1st at 11:59 PM Central Time​

 

[Baller]

After his teammates and soon to be King For A Day Opponents Brad Bomb and Rush left him out to dry, Mr. Baller is having some back pain. Thus, in his locker room he is getting a massage to help alleviate his pain. The masseuse is an older lady who looks lime a lunch lady that you would see in a prison in movies. She is chopping at Baller’s back and Baller seems to be enjoying it.

Baller: Ahh that’s it. That’s the spot.

The masseuse then stops giving the massage.

Masseuse: All right times up.

Baller: What? You’ve just started.

Masseuse: Sorry your hour is up.

Baller: Don’t worry about it give me another hour. Those fools from WZCW Management got it covered anyway.

Masseuse: Are you sure? This is the 3rd hour I just finished.

Baller: Yes I am sure, how dare you doubt a king. I have the biggest match of my career in just a couple of weeks, and cheap shots all around are hitting me so I need to make sure I am 100%. And if it takes 10 hours of back massages that Bateman, Myles, or Burna pays for then so be it. Now chop chop.

As the masseuse continues to give Baller his back massage, Vance Bateman comes storming through the door with a piece of paper in his hand.

Bateman: Baller, who the hell do you think you are?

Baller: I am a King, who the hell do you think you are? Oh wait I know, the soon to be unemployed former General Manager of Ascension.

Bateman: That’s just not going to happen because Team WZCW will not lose at Kingdom Come. However, I just a bill that you have had 15 massages in the past week.

Baller: False.

Bateman: Then why does this bill say that?

Baller: I’ve had 18 royal back massages and about to have my nineteenth.

Bateman: Oh no you’re not. Unless you want to pay out of your own pocket, but I am done paying for these massages.

Baller: Look Vance, if you knew how to run your side of a company and didn’t stick me in unfair working conditions. Everybody knows I am the favorite to win King For A Day at Kingdom Come, so obviously Bomb and Rush aren’t going to be on my “team”. I got screwed out there, and I must be at perfect condition for the Elimination Chamber. You don’t treat a King like this especially considering you are going to be just some stupid little peasant roaming the streets in the next couple weeks. Now Wanda get back to work please.

Bateman: Wanda don’t you dare lay another finger on this man or you will not see a dollar of the money that you are owed.

Baller: Bateman don’t make my associates take your ass to court again.

Bateman: Yeah because that went so well the last time you tried to pull that stunt.

Baller: Bateman I will not stand for this. You can’t treat your next WZCW World Heavyweight Champion like this. You can’t treat wrestling royalty like this. Why people are fighting for you to stay in charge is beyond me, and I demand that due to my injuries suffered because of you I get time off until Kingdom Come.

Bateman: Unfortunately I can’t give you that. Since this will be my supposed last show before I lose my job, I am going to go out with a bang. And you will be facing a current champion. The Eurasian Champ, Black Dragon one on one.

Baller: You can’t do this to me Bateman. I am hurt.

Bateman: Fine you don’t have to face Black Dragon this week.

Baller: Thank you. Now kiss the feet of your King, because this is the last time you will get to see me.

Bateman: However, if you decide not to face Black Dragon this week due to your injuries, I cannot let an injured superstar dare enter the King For A Day Match. Thus, the choice is yours. Either show up or forfeit your spot at Kingdom Come.

Bateman begins to laugh as he heads out the door with Baller sit at the massage table. Baller then begins to chase after Bateman but decides not to and then kicks the table down.

Baller: How dare he do this to me? Black Dragon unfortunately this week you will have the task of facing me. One week before the biggest match of my historic career, and while you will unfortunately be stuck in the midcard for time to come, I will be ascending the ranks to the World Heavyweight Title. However, I know you know that and you are incredibly jealous and wish you could be as good as a King like myself, thus you might want to injure me come our match. I will not let such a thing happen, if it requires me to go 50% come our match then so be it, as my 10% is better then your best effort. So good luck and get ready to shine my boots as this will be the last time you ever face me as I will be above your class, and management will finally recognize it. And you better believe that.

 

[Gelgarin]

Book of the Dragon​

~ Chapter 23 – The Dread Portal (part 2)~​

Once more I find myself staring blankly at a door. No draft eschews from behind it, so it must be the door in my dream. You don’t get drafts in dreams. The door is thick, textured dark oak. From behind it echo a child’s screams, twisted agony expelled desperately from half formed lungs. The dream is no longer moving forwards. In nights gone by I found myself experiencing new things every time I journeyed into this strange new world; but since turning away from the screaming child I have been stuck here every night. Shrill cries pierce my ears, pleading for help, for mercy or just for a cessation of pain. I want to step through the door, to offer protection, aid and comfort; but that isn’t the way I need to go – you can’t move back in a dream, you can only keep on going forwards. I turn my back on the echoes of horror and continue my journey deeper into the…

“No!”

I glance around looking for the source of the outburst, then am shocked to discover that it eschewed from between my own lips. No. Night after night I have stood, staring at this door whilst the child screamed out for help, and night after night I have turned away and walked deeper because that is where the dream wanted me to go.

No more. Since suffering the betrayal at the paws of Barbosa I have been adrift at sea. My anchor has not been present and I have been unable to control my own life. A man who cannot take control of his life cannot hope to control his dreams. No more.

A few yards away from me a child is in pain. I abandoned the child like aspect of me because it was week, but now I see that a part of me is still week. I may be fierce, resilient and powerful, but the week child is still there inside, craving protection. Protecting others means protecting yourself. I reach out and grasp the handle of the door.

In a few days I shall have a chance to rectify that which went astray. The betrayer will be in my hands, and when that time comes the environment is set to be uncertain, so I must struggle to leave nothing in the hands of fate. I must be completely in control, and that can start in my dream. Muscles tensing I pull down on the handle, drag back open the door and step back into the beyond.

* * *​

“Hano?”

The voice from the darkness is soft and tender. It is also, unusually, totally unwelcome. For almost a full week now I’ve had the same dream echoing through my head. Bouncing off the walls on my skull, increasing in volume with every reverberation till my entire mind is consumed with the sound. The dream has been too loud to let me sleep, and during my waking hours my head cries out in sleep deprived pain.

Nicotine has ceased to dull the pain; Muse’s honey tea has proved as impotent as was expected, the only prospect for muffling the sound and allowing myself a respite from the pain is to take control of the dream and see it through to its conclusion.

Finally, finally I thought I had the dream figured out. I was in control, I had chosen my direction, my hand was resting on the handle of the door, and the mildest of pressure was all that was needed to gain me entry into the portal. The wretched cycle was a few nocturnal minutes from its conclusion when a voice sang out from the shadows and called me back into consciousness.

Frustrated I summon reserves of strength and pull open my eyes, noticing no immediate difference. Collapse was at the forefront of my mind last night, and I was unable to find time on route to slumber even to remove my mask. In the night the black plastic has worked its way around my face, binding me in darkness. I wrench myself free of the chafing prison and immediately wince as burning sunlight enters my eyes and invades my vision. I slam my eyes back shut, hiding from the celestial assault.

“What time is it?”

“Past noon. I figured you’d slept long enough.”

“Don’t you have work?”

“I took a day off.”

Oh dear. Muse taking a day off work means that she is worried about me. What makes it worse is that she has every right to be. There is no longer any hiding from it; I am concussed. It’s hardly a new experience; I learned to identify the signs a long time ago. I can’t remember my first concussion; I’m told that’s not uncommon. Possibly it was another gift from my father, perhaps it was a relic of the cage; it hardly matters now. The point is that since that nameless day I’ve been vulnerable to head trauma, and every blow to the skull I take makes the next one hurt that bit worse. As I pull myself upright in bed I feel last night’s blows repeating themselves. The rabid dog dropping my head to the canvas time and time again, followed by Showtime’s closing act of buffoonery. I need time off; I need to clear my head, literally, but I’m too close.

Two more weeks and the chance will be mine to wrench open the door the Burna’s keep and bring judgement to the fiend that lies within. Once that is done I will have all the time in the world to heal, I just have to keep moving forwards towards that point. Muse’s concern will only make things harder. If my fighting starts to cause her grief then I will lose the will the fight, and I’ve come too far to quit now. Grimacing internally I force my eyes open once more and try to affect some semblance of consciousness.

“How do you feel?”

“I’ve got bruises on my bruises.”

Honest at least. If I lie and tell her I’m fine then she’ll see through me in an instant, I can’t lie to her at the best of times, and I’m quite visibly not fine.

“You were in quite a state when I brought you home.”

She brought me home? It would make sense, I certainly don’t remember walking. Other details that have been nagging me for attention choose this moment to present themselves. Sunlight is shining on my face, this does not happen in my apartment. Secondly, bruises and concussion aside, I’m for more comfortable than is typical. Finally, my memory may be a fickly friend right now, but I am certain thet my bedding did not used to be so… florid.

“Why’d you bring me to your place?”

She shrugs, then smiles.

“It’s considerably nicer than yours.”

I can’t really argue. Muse always jokes that my dwelling would charitably be described as a hole. She in contrast has taste. A little too much of an affinity for bright colours and flowers; and I’m pretty sure a stuffed animal is staring at me from across the room, but compared to my pit this is quite luxurious. I seem to have succeeded in changing the subject away from my condition.

“Is there any food?”

“You’re not changing the subject that easily Hano, you could barely walk last night.”

I’ll have to take her word for it.

“In my defence, I had been hit in the head, a lot.

“You get hit in the head for a living, but I’ve never seen you hurt like you were last night. I’m worried about you, and I’m going to carry on being worried about you until you give me a straight answer. So stop being coy, and tell me how you’re feeling.”

Check. She’s a couple of moves away from mate.

“I’ve been worse. Then again, I’ve been better. Then I’ve been a lot better, and not much worse. “

She taps her foot, a silly exaggerated motion, but it gets the point across.

“I feel pretty banged up, that’s all. Once Burna is taken care of I’ll probably take some time out to recover.”

That ought to please her, and indeed she seems pleasantly suppressed. The less I fight the happier she tends to be; I often will I was a better man and could step away from all of this once and for all, but we have to play the hand we’re dealt. I’m serious about the time off though; I am exactly the kind of idiot who’ll keep on fighting long after realising that I should stop, but if these dreams are teaching me anything it is that what I am does not always have to be what I am going to be. I can walk away when I need to.

“Is there any food?”

“I’ll go look.”

I appear to have escaped her inquisition. I’m not convinced that I’ve convinced her that I’m fine, but she’s letting sleeping dogs lie for now. It’ll only be for a month or two. I’m getting closer. Every week now I get closer to my target, I may be reduced to a crawl but I will not stop. I will walk through the valley of the shadow of death and I will fear no evil. I shall crawl through the fires of hell and emerge with the scars to prove it, but I shall emerge. Nothing now will stop my advance; I care not for my wellbeing, I care not for the distractions being thrown in my way. Showtime, Barbosa, whatever you find for me to do this week, it matters not, I shall keep coming.

You can’t run forever.