MD79: Black Dragon vs. Grand Mystique vs. Steamboat Ricky

[Viola Moonlight]

Joe Mason will accompany Steamboat Ricky to the ring.

Grand Mystique shocked the world with his long-awaited return to WZCW by narrowly defeating "Showtime" Cougar (despite the outside interference). He'll be looking to take on the co-Eurasian Champion Black Dragon and one of the only men to remember Mystique competing, Steamboat Ricky. The WZCW Legend will be looking to show his mentee how to deal with two men who come from two different generations, adapting to each style being presented to the ring.

Deadline 19th of September, 11:59pm Central Time. No extensions allowed​

 

[a0161613]

The Grand Mystique is alone. The details besides this are unimportant.

“So have I got your attention yet?”

His unmistakable growl puts an emphasis on every slowly spoken syllable.

“Were you even paying attention? I brutalised and pinned the precious number one contender, I’ve made a bigger impact than you could have possibly imagined. There is nothing that I cannot achieve now because I have the Hand of Prophecy guiding me to my Destiny.”

“Such an impact isn’t appreciated by the brain-dead masses. They are simply ignorant of what has been achieved. So if you take a second to look around, I am keeping company with those who understand what I have done.”

He lazily plays with some cards that are presented in a neat but random order on the table.

“It’s not as if what I have done is particularly complicated. The Grand Mystique has returned to destroy the symbols of Hope that exist within WZCW. Chaos failed in its ultimate aim and I am going to pick apart at what is left before any heroes decide that they want to fight my bastion of disorder.”

Reaching for a crystal ball, he immediately pays far more attention to it and the cards on the table.

“Heroes are fragile and desperate for what acclaim and respect they can scrape and scratch and I’m left to face two such frail egos. They will be crushed and made examples of, as WZCW need to have a pair of sacrificial lambs ahead of the events soon to come at Apocalypse.”

“The Black Dragon is one such frail character, a confused being and a demonic reptile living the life of a saint. He claims to be leading a fight of a hero but he has never fought a true battle in his life, with no clue where the battleground is. His confusion has led to an angry man who cannot read his Destiny and has no idea how to approach his life. Whatever energy it is that guides him or powers his fight, I will be the one to cut it off from him permanently.”

He exhales slowly and calmly, the breath stains the crystal with steam. He eyes the flawless sphere as he rolls it around his hands.

“Ricky is now a shell of a man but he is used to that because that shell has always been his cover. He is a sham who has unable to resist the habit of being the phony figurehead. He talks of a legacy like it is important and is duped by his own self importance. He carries no grandeur. His legacy deceives only those who are willing to be taken in by it. ”

“The sheep who follow Ricky also embrace the rebellious actions of the hideous Dragon. It is pitiful that they can be taken by the word of such feeble peons but nothing less should be expected from those gullible creatures who bought into Ty Burna before he inflicted Chaos.”

An intuitive swipe to the cards takes out any structure that they had. They lie in disarray around the table and on the floor.

“Confusion is a word that is apt for most of the WZCW roster. There is no path for them to follow and despite having the map; they are too illiterate to read it. My opponents at Meltdown are both failures wrapped up in delusion. They have taken the wrong turn and are incapable of reaching the final destination that will reveal their full potential. Destiny will never reveal itself to those who are so misguided. This delusion will see them vaporised by The Big Bang.”

He smashes the crystal ball on the table but in seconds, the smashed pieces have reformed another perfect sphere that he raises to look through.

“A demon and a fake are going to join the ego on the list of casualties. And then at Apocalypse, the chair swinging freak who is so desperate to disown his true personality will discover the pain that he inflicted on others is nothing compared to what I will deliver with my Hand of Prophecy. By this point I will have accumulated an unparalleled list of victims but then what?”

“I am not the creature who had this name before. I am superior in every way and only a blind idiot would not be able to recognise the difference. But only a believer in Destiny will be able to understand why I chose now to return. Do not let your own ignorance cloud the sight that is right in front of you. Keep on believing that this embodiment isn’t capable of wrecking everything that is put in front of it because that is the ultimate sin of the entire roster. I’m speaking only the truth and the reckless abandon towards it is disturbing. These beliefs are going to split WZCW down the middle and only those who accept my words will survive.”

“This Grand Mystique is not an illusion, not anymore.”

With that GM stands up and in the pale light, his impressive physique is on display and he looks even bigger than his three hundred and sixty pounds plus frame would suggest. This monster of a man steps away with a clear message of intent ringing.

 

[Steamboat Ricky]

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*Steamboat Ricky is shown sitting at a sports bar taking in a football game. He sits by himself. Every time Ricky's waitress comes around to check on him, she awkwardly touches the middle of his back. Ricky noticeably cringes every time she walks by, knowing what is coming next. Seemingly after having had enough, Ricky calls his waitress over to his table.*

Look. This is a sports bar. Sports bars attract guys who like to watch sports. A lot of guys who come here are probably very lonely and can't wait for you to be their waitress...because you'll awkwardly caress their backs, effectively soothing their egos and also effectively soothing the amount of tips you get at the end of the night. My ego doesn't need soothed, at least not by you...definitely not tonight. I would really prefer it if you didn't do that weird thing where you touch my back, and I will gladly tip you fairly in the future if there is no physical contact, whatsoever. I really just want a beer, the game, and some peace. Here you go.

*Ricky leaves her a tip along with the bill and leaves, obviously pissed that his fantasy football team lost for the second week in a row. He exits the bar, and who is waiting for him? None other than WZCW's Leon Kensworth.*

Pretty hard on that waitress, huh?

Hard? Man, have you ever had that done to you? Weirdest thing ever, man. And what are you doing, stalking me now?


Maybe, I'm just doing my job.


Is it your job to keep tabs on me 24/7?


Well...

Well, what?

I just have some questions for you Ricky. What do you think about the resurgence of the Grand Mystique?

What do I think? I think if I wanted an exhaustive, detailed analysis of the interior design of some random-ass building...then I'd be in love with the return of the Mystique. But, considering I'm not interested in said detailed analysis...well...I'm going to have to say that I'll reserve judgment for a later date and time. Yeah, I'm one of the only guys that's been around long enough to remember Mystique. Maybe he'll actually grab my attention this time around.

And of Black Dragon?


Red dragon, green dragon....PURPLE DRAGON? Are you asking how I feel about Mad Madam Mim???

How did you get that image to show up?

I'm just really good, man. Anyway, Black Dragon is obviously very talented and has a lot of good things going for him. I mean, he's co-Eurasian Champion, right? That's WAYYYYY cooler than being the outright Eurasian Champion. And he's got a lot of masks, too. I had a lot of masks when I was a kid.


Last thing, what do you think about your rookie mentee, Joe Mason?

I'm sure you're referring to him interfering in my match last week on Meltdown? Well, he's a kid who didn't have a good upbringing, and I haven't really had a chance to instill some good ole' fashioned "Ricky Values" in him yet. I've talked a little bit to him, but I venture to guess that he's going to find out on his own what it takes to make it or break it in this business. He was lucky that night...though he won't always be so lucky. I've gotta keep a sharper eye on him. In fact, I'm on my way to go check up with him now. So...good luck. Try not being so creepy, eh?


You bet.

*Scene fades.*

 

[Gelgarin]

Book of the Dragon​

~ Chapter 29 – Ashes to Ashes ~​

“Good evening Hano.”

“Good evening.”

It's the old man who tells stories again; somehow I knew it would be.

“What brings you to our happy little world of slumber tonight?”

“I'm ready to end this.”

“Were you not ready to end this last week?”

“I was.”

“Yet it remains unended.”

“We're killing time.”

The old man frowns.*

“And why are we doing that Hano?”

“For the sake of the story.”

He smiles.

“Sounds good to me.”

He turns away and begins to lead me down a maze of corridors. The floor slopes perpetually downward, spiralling round and drawing us into the depths of the dream.

“Do you remember the rules?” the old man asks.

“I have to find the part of me that's real.” I reply.

“And you believe that you've found it?”

“Not yet. But I know what I'm looking for.”


***​

“What do you want Dragon?”

It is always stinging when an old friend is not happy to see you. Of course, when I refer to the man in front of me as an old friend what I in fact mean is that we've known one another for a long time. I can't say our history has been particularly friendly; I once set him alight and he's concussed me more times than I'm happy to admit. Still, in this gloom encrusted world of bitterness and resentment, he's the closest thing to a friend I've ever found.

“I have something for you.”

He tenses. I suppose it is a sign that the Dragon was a success that, when I offer a gift, people immediately suspect violence. For once violence is not on the agenda.

I've never been able to satisfactorily explain to Muse why I take such an interest in the man in front of me. She can't stand him. She tends to resent those who cause me physical harm at the best of times, and he compounds the insult be being... I don't have the words, but Muse always called him a “smug son-of-a-bitch.”

None of that is untrue. When presented with the list of reasons I should not care about this man I cannot dispute a single word. The only counter arguments I've ever been able to muster make little to no sense bereft of context, and not much more in their proper place.

“Well...” He demands. I realise I've been standing there in silence for close to a minute.

“Here.” I toss him a small bag. He snatches it out of the air.

“The hell is this?”

He reaches into the bag and withdraws a tattered, dusty old wrestling boot. His true name can be seen emblazoned across the side.

“The return of a gift.”

He frowns.

“Where did you get this?”

“You don't remember?”

Of course he doesn't. It was years ago, I wasn't me and he was hardly himself either.

***​

This was long before the first chapter, before I was Dragon or Hano. I was still Anoki at the time, another construct of the imagination that I used to try and create a life for myself. Much like Dragon, Anoki failed at the whole “wrestling-thing” and walked away. His past followed him however.

It was some months after the Halfway House Project had gone to shit. The nice men who smiled all the time had informed us that we didn't own all of that property that we though we owned, and yet, against all reason, we were still in trouble about money. I was bouncing from city to city, ****ing my celebrity to try and keep the project alive. I was never much of a ****e, but it managed to save a single house in the long run, but that's not a story for today.

The location of today's story is disputed. If you were to ask David then he'd tell you that our conversation began inside a gun shop, in my story it takes place in an ally. That's the nice thing about stories, depending on who is doing the telling they can be anything. I think that's the problem I've always found with the real world, no matter how much you spin or twist, the world is still the same.

Some of you will doubtless be asking, “If your version of the story says one thing, and David's another, which one is true?”. The answer of course: that is the wrong kind of question to ask.

I don't know if he followed me to wherever it was we were; it's not impossible that we simply met by chance, though it seems a little contrived. They always say that the truth is stranger than fiction; in the real world we might well have met by coincidence, but here on the page one must have gone looking for the other.

Regardless; I found him recumbent in an alleyway, a little the worse for drink and considerably the worse for sanity. At the time it was his story and all I had to do was mutter some words of wisdom and send him on his way. I held up a mirror to the man and explained why he wasn't beyond redemption. We met, we spoke and he staggered off into the night, but not before handing over one of his boots “for the charity.”

It was a worthless donation, but at the time it was all he had to give. The poor man who hands over his last pennies is infinitely more touching than the rich man who hands over one of his many millions. I never sold it as intended, I always had a feeling that it might be good for something in the future.

***​

All of this is lost on the recipient. Of course it is, in his mind there was no boot. In his story he handed over a gun, an equally symbolic gesture but one considerably less touching.

“I don't know what you're talking about Dragon.”

“No. I expect you don't.”

“Are we done?”

“Yes.”

I turn to leave but his curiosity overcomes his impatience and he calls me back.

“What the hell is all of this about Dragon? One of my old wrestling boots... what is that supposed to mean to me?”

“It means that in my story you're not an ass hole David. And you don't have to be one in yours either.”

“One of these days you're going to have to start making sense Dragon.”

“I wouldn't count on it.”

The days are counting down and I doubt I've made much sense outside of my own head thus far. Why change all of that now? The die has already been cast and the result has been called. There's nothing left to fight for but my own satisfaction, and if spouting expertly crafted nonsense can make the parting easier then I see no make against it.

Obviously this chapter is a fractured reflection of “real” events. You can't have two people telling the same story without contradictions, and if you're going to be contradictory then you might as well have the discrepancies mean something. I probably never had the conversation with David that you just read, though I suppose that's up to him now.