MD68 - Chris K.O. vs. Black Dragon (Eurasian Title)

[Ty Burna]

Last week, the Roulette wheel decided these men of Chris K.O. and Black Dragon will team together. From the aftermath, it leads them to a singles match this week where Dragon will be defending his EurAsian title. With Ty in charge of the programming, is this a sign of things to come: freely awarding his followers each week? Can Chris be able to take the championship away from the Dragon or will the mysterious warrior play some mind tricks of his own and retain the championship?

Deadline is Tuesday, January 24th at 11:59 PM Central Time.​

 

[Kermit]

"A mask of gold hides all deformities."

-Thomas Dekker​

Black Dragon…

Masters continues the offence by mounting on top of Black Dragon and hits some hard fists on the masked vigilante, the referee counts up to three and Masters stops because of the potential to get disqualified so he stops, he tries to do some more punches but Dragon blocks with a hard forearm, which dazes his opponent and allowed Dragon the chance to get back up.

I feel like I know you…

Masters is beginning to feel the momentum gaining and gets Dragon back to vertical basis and locks him ready for a bulldog, he goes for it but Dragon lifts him up and drops him back with the Darkness Falls, a version of the Northern Lights Driver and goes for the pin, 1……2……3.

…from another life.

Harrys: Here is your winner, Black Dragon.

The scene opens up to a shot of Chris K.O. in a crimson leathered chair. He is digging out dirt from underneath his finger nails as he sits silently in an office room. The room is small and resembles an old school principal’s office. In front of Chris is an interesting bureau Mazarin desk, but even more interesting than that is the man who is behind it. Muttered words fill the airwaves as Ty Burna softly spins in his onyx leathered chair. A phone is pressed tightly to his ear as he goes over business terms with the receiving end. Chris begins to watch his unknowing master and thinks to himself.

I have long proclaimed that titles in the WZCW hold no value to me. My aspirations are of change, and not gold. This has been a creed since my emergence, but Ty has made it his quest to drill that belief out of psyche. I have been to his office every other day since he told me about my match with Black Dragon. I would come in and say “I’m still not sold on this idea.” He would respond by chuckling to himself and telling me to think it over and come back another day. This cycle has continued for ten days. Now, my fifth time in his office and he hopes to win me over yet.

Very well then. Just get it done!

Ty removes the phone from his ear and kills it with a slight of hand. He rests the phone on the antique desk and then brings his cupped hands to his lips. His red eyes glow beautifully as he stares at his young protégé. The room is quiet, but who will fire the first shot?

Christopher. How have you been?

The days treat me well my lord.

Ty smiles and leans back in his leathered chair.

So, have you chosen to heed my advice and come to terms with what I have planned for you?

I still do not see why it is so vital for me to win this championship.

I’m glad you asked.

Ty leans forward and stands up from his office throne. He pushes the chair into the desk’s kneehole and allows himself some space. Behind Ty is a giant shelf that houses three glass cases. Each one holds a replica WZCW belt. The middle case holds the coveted WZCW World Heavyweight Championship belt as it separates the Mayhem and Eurasian Championship. Ty holds out his hand to gesture at them.

Do you see this Chris? This is how it began. This is how chaos started.

Ty’s eyes begin to molest the trophy shelf as Chris has his own fixed solely on the Eurasian replica.

That one.

Ty notices Chris’ gaze. He reaches up and pulls the Eurasian Championship glass case off of the shelf. He sets the case on the desk and removes the belt with delicacy.

This belt had never known a touch before my own. A “virgin” if you will.

Ty smiles as he places the title on his shoulder. He begins to rub the center piece as he speaks.

It was at Civil Revolution in 2009. Drake Callahan and I met in the final bout of a tournament to decide her first bearer. Needless to say, I destroyed him and obtained my first taste of gold in the WZCW. It was a moment that foreshadowed my years of dominance in this company, and it all began with this very piece of metal.

Stand up.

Chris slowly rises from his chair as Ty grabs his arm and pulls him in front of a full-size mounted mirror that is hanging on the wall. Chris looks at his reflection as Ty stands behind him.

At Meltdown 68, you will face Black Dragon for the WZCW Eurasian Championship. I am curious Christopher; do you believe that you can actually beat him?

Chris slants his eyebrows as he responds bluntly.

Of course. Let us not forget that I grew up with him in this company. I shared his sweat in the ring and basked in his scent in the locker room. It has been nearly eight months since I last met him in the ring for a one on one encounter. An inaugural match for both of us; back then he had his mask, and I had mine. But now mine is removed, but still he veils his strength with his. That is his flaw. That is his weakness. I am a new entity.

Ty smiles and hovers his head above Chris’ right shoulder. Chris watches him in the mirror as Ty begins to whisper into the air.

So… will you go on to Meltdown 68 and regain what is rightfully mine?

Chris begins to conjure up his creed against the capturing of gold, but the thought does not reach his mind. The opposition has been decimated.

Yes…

Ty laughs as he removes his head from above Chris’ shoulder. Chris is unable to see Ty in the mirror, but continues to hear his whispering voice.

The Ouija Scroll has prophesied that you will exceed all that I have done. In order for that to happen, you must accomplish all that I have done. So we will begin with this…

The Eurasian title slowly begins to unravel from behind Chris and drapes over his right shoulder. The belt sparkles in the mirror as Chris views it lustfully.

What was mine… will now become yours.

The camera shows Ty walking back to the desk as he begins to place the glass case back on the shelf.

Chris smirks as he looks at the belt in the mirror. He begins to examine the belt from top to bottom, but suddenly something catches his eye. The corner of an envelope is sticking out of Chris’ right pants pocket. He quickly snaps out of his trance as he glances over at Ty. He is relieved to see that Ty is still positioning the case on the shelf. He pushes the envelope deeper into his pocket and proceeds to remove the draped title from off of his shoulder. Without a word, he walks over to Ty and hands him the replica belt. Ty places the belt back into its case as Chris watches him.

King Shabba and Ale, two men who entered this world with us. Now, both of them are gone. We are the last of our breed, Dragon. You have bested me on a handful of occasions, but that was in a different life. I now seek what you hold dearly to your chest. I now seek what you hope to abstain from wicked men. You are deceived and you will be removed from what is not rightfully yours. What was his….will now become mine.

The scene goes black.

 

[Gelgarin]

Book of the Dragon​

~ Chapter 17 – Bravado ~​

“You’re a bloody idiot Hano.”

Damn. Muse. How is she here? Even if she left work upon the conclusion of my match she should not be able to beat me to my own front door. Clearly however she has; clearly she has seen what just happened and she is clearly not happy about it. I expected her tonight. Around the time I was waving consciousness goodbye I knew she’d call, but I’d hoped to have time to clean up first. Behind the mask my face is coated with caked on blood; something I am definitely not going to let her see. I’ve put her through more than enough for one evening already. The crimson mask dried as I returned home, gluing its black brother in place and making facial movements or conversation profoundly uncomfortable. I say nothing as I open the door, but if she notices the hint then she refuses to take it.

“Explain to me Hano, what was the point of that?”

“The point of what?”

My head aches. My neck aches. Thinking hurts. Talking hurts. Listening hurts. I require nicotine as much as I ever have in my life, but I may not smoke with her here. Muse is going to be accurate in everything she says, but I’m not moved to help her say it.

“That little performance out there. Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“I’m still standing.”

“You shouldn’t be. Sit down. Take off the mask.”

I collapse gratefully onto the sofa. Muse decides that she can better articulate her argument pacing back and forth. She wants me to take off the mask. Can’t do that. Distract her.

“The odds weren’t exactly in my favour.”

“Not in your favour? Three men Hano; three men. Going out there in the first place was bull headed stupidity. I don’t suppose the idea of discretion being the greater part of valour means anything to you does it…?”

She’s right. It doesn’t. That’s just an excuse to run away. I won’t run away any more. Muse isn’t finished.

“You were outnumbered against a pair of former champions and equipped with an openly hostile partner. What did you think was going to happen?”

“Pretty much that.”

“And then, after the first idiotic show of bravado only succeeds in getting you hurt you decide that what is called for is more of the same. The man was crushing your carotid artery, there was no way out, yet you decided to risk brain damage and black out rather than give in. The crowd ate it up. Very heroic. And very, very stupid.”

I hang my head. Thirty minutes ago I was at war with giants. In the face of her anger I’m reduced to the state of berated child.

“And if all of that wasn’t enough: once the dust settled, and I find this hard to believe even of you Hano, once the dust settled you decided to pull yourself upright for the express purpose of getting hit in the face again. What the fuck where you trying to achieve?”

I’m not sure I’ve ever heard her swear before. I must have really upset her. I wish I had a response that would meet with satisfaction, but she’s not going to enjoy my explanation.

“I was trying to prove a point.”

She takes it about as well as I expected. Not at all. This is why I try to keep her at arm’s length. If I let her too close then it’s too hard for her to watch me doing what needs to be done. We’re supposed to meet for an hour a week; just enough to keep me sane. But as the weeks go by it’s getting harder and harder. When I’m stressed I call on her. When I’m hurt she calls on me. Fate deals to me from the bottom of the deck and pushes us closer together. I wish I was sorry, but I’m not, I need her in my life. I just wish she wasn’t so angry with me right now.

“Prove a point? What point? That’s you’re happy to let people cave your head in? That you’re arrogant enough to forfeit oxygen to the brain in the name of saving face? Was it vital for the world to be shown that three men acting together are capable of kicking the stuffing out of you? Tell me Hano. Explain. What point were you proving tonight?”

“Tonight? None. The point gets proven a week from now when I walk back into the arena.”

And so it does. The point is that they can stack the deck against me, throw everything at me, walk away believing me to be destroyed, and in seven days I’ll be back. I’ll always come back. My life’s work has been surviving, and there is nothing that they can throw at me that will keep me down. They are many and I am few. They have power and resources, I have none. They have every advantage that the world can offer, but they cannot win. You can never truly win against an opponent who will not accept defeat. The only option is to take him out, and they can never take me out. That is what I was proving to them. Unfortunately to Muse it is just idiot bravado.

“That’s idiot bravado Hano.”

See.

“Perhaps. But it’s a language that they understand.”

“And I know that violence is a language you understand Hano. Take the message. I know that your first response is always to fight, but when you are outmatched you need to walk away. It’s not cowardice; it’s not running away, it’s just common sense.”

“And what massage would that send? That the forces of good will fight valiantly against the powers of darkness unless the darkness is too strong, at which point good men should scuttle away with their tails between their legs and let darkness have its way with the world? There’s enough of that thinking around already without me adding to it.”

At this point it occurs to me that I’ve never actually explained to you, the reader, why I choose to be where I am. By now I hope that the answer as to why I choose to fight against the darkness should be pretty obvious, but as I’m sure you are aware; there are far darker places in the world then a professional wrestling company. The problem is that this world is a pretty black one. There is evil everywhere one looks. Society is dominated by shadows who are judged ‘too big to fail’, ‘too powerful to take down’, and ‘too strong to fight’. A hundred men could spend their lives fighting evil wherever they find it and achieve less than nothing. For every shade they slay there will two more to take its place. The anthropologists tell you to never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed people can change the world, but in my experience this is not true. The only way for one man to change to world is to start by changing the minds of other men, which is why I choose to fight on the most public battleground I can find.

I don’t especially care what Ty Burna or his trained ape get up to with their time, but if by fighting them I can send a message to their million dark brothers then fight them I shall. Let them come at me, let them rain blows down upon me in front of the world, and let the world see that true justice will not yield. Let the world see how easily a tyrant falls when one refuses to back down. Let the world see that those shadows who sit above the law bleed just like everybody else and then let us see how long those shadows last. A pipe dream? Perhaps. But it is good enough to help me sleep at night.

“So you need to let people hurt you in order to prove to the world that you’re willing to get hurt?”

Yes, she’s still here. Still angry with me.

“Pretty much.”

She’s exhausted herself. She’s never been good at anger or aggression, those are my emotions. She sinks down next to me on the sofa, her head in her hands.

“Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.”

It sounds like we’ve been fighting, but we haven’t really. There comes a point when you know another person well enough that you can’t really fight. Everything she says to me comes with the unspoken qualifier that she is just worried about me; and everything that I say comes from the mouth of a boy who is, behind the mask, completely and utterly in love with her. In such circumstances it is hard for one of us to take anything the other has to say too badly. She’s said her piece, she was probably right about most of it, but I don’t think this is something we’re ever going to see eye to eye on.

“You’ve still got the mask on.”

Damn. I’d hoped she’d forgotten. I guess the fact that you are talking to a man in Halloween dress is quite hard to forget. I say nothing.

“Take it off please.”

I’m out of escapes. Thinking still hurts and I can come up with no way out. The state that I am in will likely inflame Muse’s anger once again, but I can no more resist that voice then a man can turn away from a siren’s song. The mask peels off my face like a plaster, dry blood clinging to my scalp, opening up the wound on my head as it is pulled away. It was only a small cut, but I have had no time to tend to it and the mask makes things look much worse than they are.

“Oh Hano.”

An expanding purple bruise, decorated with flakes of crimson, dominates the boy's my forehead. If Muse is still angry with me then she’s not showing it. I think she can rage easily enough at the mask, but when the boy is in front of her she’s unable to summon up the necessary aggression. She knows that she isn’t going to change his mind, so instead she focuses on what she can do. Draw a bowl of warm water. Locate a cloth and work on separating blood from skin.

“Lie back.”

As she gets to work I finally realise just how tired I am. I feel like I’ve been fighting for an age. It is a relief to be able to sit back as my angel tends to me.

I don’t know what’s coming next. Burna will probably send his lackey in one manner or another. “Chris KO” as he is now known, Sam Masters as I remember him. Sam Masters was my first mistake upon arrival. We came up together; he was my first test of strength. I dropped him on his head in a matter of minutes and dismissed him as an irrelevant detail. As memory serves I even allowed him to shake my hand, mostly out of sympathy for causing him to fall at his very first hurdle, but still. Now, upon learning that he lacks the capability to compete, Sam Masters has adopted a new name and purpose. He is now a Remora fish, swimming along next to a shark. Grooming it. Cleaning its teeth. Making himself useful so that he doesn’t get eaten. It is not much of an existence, but it is hard to feel too much sympathy for a man who, fifty minutes ago, was busting me open with my own belt at his master’s instruction.

Which brings me to Burna. A wise man once commented that evil is intrinsically negative, and since it is intrinsically negative it will invariably sow the seeds of its own destruction. Tonight was a moment of triumph for Burna; but in that moment of triumph he decided to make me a part of his life. Not a good decision. If ever there was a shark in the water deserving of justice then Ty Burna is it. He is the biggest fish in the pond and I had thought to save him till last, but when a big fish has you in its sights then the time for waiting is over.

Burna. First I shall deal with your minion. Last time we fought I was trying not to hurt him more than necessary, next time I shall have the opposite intention. Once Sam Masters has been broken I shall move on to your next challenge, and then the next and then the next. I am in no hurry, a Dragon does not run, it simply walks in a straight line, crushing everything in its path. I am certain that tonight’s events shall repeat themselves many times, but I am not concerned. Ty Burna, you are in my sights. The Dragon of judgement has begun marching towards you and a dragon does, not, stop.

All of this runs through my head as I lay back, eyes closed, in a daze. I’m dimly aware of Muse’s fingers tenderly massaging my scalp. It has been a long day, consciousness is departing. The last thing I remember feeling before I cross over into the sea of dreams is Muse leaning over and softly kissing my chapped lips, and the last thing I remember thinking is that possibly getting the crap kicked out of me was worth it for that one moment alone.