I’m asking. Whether it’s mine or yours. His or hers. Ours. Our neighbor’s.
How many stories start in a pool of blood?
I’m sure there are plenty, however, here lies King Doc. He’s staring straight up while flat on his back to the ceiling. Blinded by while embracing the starlight above. Hypnotized by it as he gazes forever into the endless sky above. Fresh from battle, worn from war, fatigued yet rejuvenated. Died to live.Hurt to feel. Broken to repair. Que sera, sera.
As His Royal Majesty lies on the canvas (the two of them matching with the stains of blood), it makes you wonder, what brought us to this moment? A wave of vocal emotions swarm and beat the ear drums of anyone within a few mile radius. A moment, that will indeed, be stapled and remembered many, many moons from now.
But what brought us here?
Let’s go back. And let me start off by saying that this is by NO MEANS an origin story. Not even close. NO. We’re just back tracking a lil’ bit. We’re tracing our steps. Reviewing the tapes. Recapping current events. Hitting rewind. Just for a second.
Where we should pick up is right around March Madness…
Gator stomps over and grabs Doc back his ankle and beats him off the ground like a rag doll before throwing him across the way again. Doc snaps his fingers trying to ignite another flame, but like a BIC lighter out of fluid he just keeps snapping and snapping for nothing. Gator mounts Doc, acts as if he rolls up his sleeves, and starts going to town on Doc’s face fist over fist over fist.
DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE!
Vinnie stands beside the two of them and cartoonishly pulls out an umbrella to shield himself from blatter splatter and the gruesome sight. After Gator rearranges Doc’s face he gets up, rolls over, and lights a cigarette. He lies next to Doc who chokes up some of his own blood and spits it onto the icy terrain.
Uhh, after that.
BEFORE that. C’mon.
What… is that?
Says Void Doc as an image forms in the sky. Doc remains on his knees, half dead, with a smile.
My heart.
A beam of light shoots down and pierces Void Doc through the chest and quickly vaporizes him into the nothingness that is the void. The figure in the light floats down and lands next to Doc, placing their hand on his shoulder. Doc feels light as a feather as the beacon grows and he embraces it.
Close enough.
Que sera, sera.
It’s warm, the doctor thinks to himself. He not only embraces the light, but it embraces him, too. Holding his arms out he feels the energy (static) growing and filling within his chest. White noise (more static) fills and grows within his ears close to deafening decibels. He closes his eyes tighter as the brilliant light around him becomes brighter and brighter. It’s too much to bear, Doc turns his head but in every direction the great light stings his eyes with its excellence.
Doc screams as he flesh is burned. His eye opens and it, too, fries like a little egg in a frying pan. It loses all color and fades to gray.…. The excitement in his chest grows and sizzles then turns to boiling until it bursts and another beam of light shoots from Doc and upwards until he is completely absorbed by its brilliance.
BoB SAFEHOUSE
LOCATION - ??????
TIME - ??????
The motel room smelled of chicken fat, sweat, and bad dreams.
Bobby Bourbon stood in the corner watching over a rotisserie chicken spinning over a small grill while eating a bucket of chitterlings dipping them in French onion dip. TK pegs out a pyramid scheme to earn more XBUX on the far wall. Barney Green uses one of the many master computers to do what he does. And Ghost Tank was in the bathroom doing something.
All was well until TK saw one of his little papers tacked to the peg board blow off. He looks around the room, sees everyone else, except Ghost Tank, doing what they’ve been doing.
You fuckers feel a draft or something?
Bobby Bourbon stops midway of shoving a pinch from the bucket into his mouth. He looks down at the small flame from his tiny grill under the still very raw chicken spinning round and round. Another gust of wind blows, throws, and tampers with his flames.
Ozzy did you open a window in there?!
No response.
For fuck sake.
Before TK can let out another fuck, another gust of wind blows accompanied by some static, some lightning, or SOMETHING! A giant orb of electricity forms above them! All of Barney’s master computers glitch and some even POP!
What in the fucking shit is fucking going on here?!
Barno shouts aloud!
That’s my line, mother fucker!
The brightness of the orb takes over the room and in a flash it’s all over. From the orb something falls and thuds on the bed behind them. All, except Ghost Tank, stand around and rub away the blurriness from their eyes. TK is the first to see.
WHAT IN THE FUCK?! Alright. WHO has the old naked man in the bed? I wanna know.
Bobby Bourbon is next. He just bursts out laughing then turns to relight his mini grill and fix his chicken which has fallen shamelessly to the floor. Barney Green has paid zero attention as he has been focused on getting the network back online.
TK walks up to the bed where a smoldering charred up naked old man lies, sprawled out on one of the twin beds in the room. He has long white hair and a beard the same and a golden gauntlet on his left hand.
Holy fucking shit.
Barney approaches the bed and joins TK as well as Bobby Bourbon now.
Should we take him outside?
TK grabs Barney by the shoulder and points to the naked old man.
Jesus fucking Christ, Barney! He’s no prostitute! That’s Doc D’Ville! KING Doc now, I guess.
The three of them stare down at him for a moment.
So the bathtub?
Good call.
With the most amazing timing, Broken Rich Billionaire Oswald Autem emerges from the lavatory and stops in his tracks with a wide look.
{ghosttankfont}What’d I miss?{/ghosttankfont}
Ozzy! Throw this guy in the tub!
Billionaire Oswald looks down at poor King Doc with a look of disgust.
{ghosttankfont}Why is he naked?{/ghosttankfont}
If that’s the only question you have about this situation then you’re fucked up.
XWF UNIVERSAL CHAMPION CCP Chronic Chris Page enters the scene and looks on as the rest of them do. He turns to his TEAM OF BADDIES and throws up a couple what the fuck arms.
Kidnapping, guys? Really?
It would actually be Docnapping.
NO! Fuck no! We had nothing to do with this. He just showed up!
He just showed up naked, burnt as fuck, and passed out on the bed?
Well, no. He just fuckin’appeared!
CCP pauses for a moment and looks at TK, Bobby Bourbon, Barney, but not Ghost Tank, then back to King Doc lying naked, bearded, gauntlet bearing, in the bed.
Is he dead?
It’s Doc, I doubt it. No one got close enough to check a pulse yet.
What were you guys gonna do with him?
Bob mentioned the bathtub.
Good call. Oswald, throw Doc in the tub.
{ghosttankfont}I’m not touching that thing.{/ghosttankfont}
Jesus Christ, nevermind. C’mon guys.
CCP, TK, Bobby Bourbon, and Barney all grab King Doc via bedsheet and shuffle him past Ghost Tank and into the bathroom into the bathtub. Very ungracefully and nongingerly.
He’s heavier than he looks.
CCP says half out of breath after the four of them UNO, DOS’D swung King Doc into a stained, leaky bathtub. They all stand around again and gawk for a few more uncomfortable moments.
Should we… Call an ambulance?
I fucking wouldn’t. It’s fuckin’ Doc. Something’s up with him, but I don’t think he needs an ambulance...
Did anyone else feel how hot he was through the sheet? The guy is burning up.
Bobby’s right. Maybe we should get some ice on him or something.
Another good fucking call. Yo, Oz! Go get us some fucking ice!
{ghosttankfont}I AM NOT YOUR PAWN!{/ghosttankfont}
As Ghost Tank begins a long speech about how he is not responsible for getting the ice, Andre Dixon shows up through the door pulling a large cooler behind him!
The KING has ARRIVED! AND HE BROUGHT--- WHAT THE FUCK?!
Dixon sees the burn marks on the bed and the disheveled state of the room.
The FUCK happened in here?!
Dre! Ice! Now!
Dixon flails his arms in the excitement before dragging the cooler across the room and into the bathroom. They lift the cooler of bottles, cans, and ice cubes and pour all over King Doc in the bathtub.
This is some Universal Soldier shit.
After they pour the ice all through the bathtub, Dixon tosses the cooler aside and cocks and eyebrow. He reaches down and pulls a drink from the ice and holds it up.
Yeah, why the hell not.
I could use a fucking drink.
Couldn’t have said it better.
They all reach into the ice and pull a drink of their choice from the tub.
3 MINUTES and 76 SECONDS LATER
Miss Fury enters the motel room and discovers the mess which eventually leads her to the bathroom where her team of baddies is seated around a bathroom with a bathtub filled of ice and King Doc.
You guys killed, Doc? Nice!
He’s not dead.
He’s not?
Miss Fury looks down at a blue King Doc.
Yeah, um, actually. We’ve been talking.
GAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!
WHAT THE-----?!?!
He’s been doing that. He doesn’t breathe for about seven minutes and forty seven seconds then takes a big one.
It’s fucked up.
TK takes a short swig of his drink with big eyes then silently mouths “IT’S FUCKED UP” to himself.
Talking about what?
Well, you know, it’s King Doc right here…. I know he’s a little…. Incapacitated…. And naked…….. And on ice………. But look at that!
CCP points down and Miss Fury’s eyes follow to King Doc’sGAUNTLET!
Miss Fury’s eyes absorb and reflect like a mirror the awesome gauntlet of the great KING.
It wasn’t seven or so minutes that passed, not even close, less than a minute and ten was it that King Doc whaled out again but this time stood up in the tub through the ice scaring the holy molies out of everyone in the room. The King stands with nothing but the royal gauntlet. He looks around to all of BoB, (including CCP) except Ghost Tank, and reaches up and touches the long white hair on his head and beard. A smile crosses King Doc’s face… He looks to his subjects.
I’ve done it, haven’t I?
Doc holds a fist in front of him with the Royal Gauntlet.
I have reached the top of the mountain.
King Doc at his fist with a look of awe and gratitude. A tear freezes on his blue cheek as it creeps from his only eye.
The gentlemen and lady all in the room look at one another until CCP speaks up.
You want some clothes, Doc?
CCP asks in the most politest, most nicest way he could think of.
KING Doc!
King Doc snaps back immediately. CCP jumps back and questions the old man’s enthusiasm.
Heh. Right! KING Doc
CCP nudges Miss Fury with his elbow. She smiles and looks to King Doc.
Miss Fury and BoB is at your service, my liege!
Miss Fury takes a knee on the bathroom floor. CCP looks at her with a (WTF???) kind of look and in turn Miss Fury responds with a smile, a wink, and then reaches for the champion’s hand and pulls him down.
King Doc looks down at his subjects and his smile is even brighter! TK, carrying in a bundle of clothes, followed by Bob come in and TK hands them over towards the King in the Tub.
There will be no need for those, my friend.
TK throws them over his shoulder and they hit the wall and scatter to the floor.
Are those mine?
Probably, we found ‘em in your car.
Why the fuck are you on the floor, Page?
CCP goes to get up but Fury keeps him down to one knee. King Doc smiles and goes to snap his fingers with the gauntlet, but instead reaches out and slaps Barney across the face with it and everything goes white!!!
I’ve been watching this guy. From Day One just like everyone else. I’ve had an eye on him ever since he fluttered into our world; the little butterfly. I’ve watched him pollinate the minds of nearly everyone here and they too watch him, study him.
With a steady stare and eyes glazed over. Mesmerized and hypnotized.
Even in his very strong winning ways he’s managed to make everyone feel so sorry for him. I’ve never had that treatment. My success has always resulted in the masses surrounding me and insisting that I’ve taken something away from them. Like I’ve wronged them in a way. That their demise was inevitably inevitable, they had no control over it, and eventually prematurely told themselves whatever will be, will be. I must say, of all of the times, now would be the best example of that. Through all of his trials, through all of his battles… Getting beat down and tortured. Getting his dignity burnt away. Losing part of himself. Losing even more of himself I should say.
He’s remained strong since his return and, as I said, won over the hearts of everyone.
He and I shared a similar idea through High Stakes. I’m sure he had his own eyes on the prize, but our goals, though a bit conflicted, were essentially the same. We wanted to keep the universe safe. It is obvious now that we both eventually failed in our journeys then but it did not take long after to begin new ones. It was shortly after the battle royale that this special fellow became our Xtreme Champion. All the other little bugs creeped around then, didn’t they? On top of the random attacks from being champion, he has an on-going war with the Dissentients and their cast of merry scary’s… Which appears to be mostly reduced to just the Dissentients nowadays. Which was no thanks to him, mind you. Like I said, it’s like everyone just started feeling sorry for this guy. Wishing him the best and being sad when these bullies used to beat him down week in and week out. My first impressions of him were never close to this at all. My first impressions he came across as an untamed, rabid animal. Uncaged. Self-liberated. Not a care in the world, just fluttering along through his constant acid trip. Then we watched him become a victim countless times. Over and over and over again. We watched him eat his hand nearly lose the other then crap out a middle finger. I’ve lost the vision of this fierce, feral, rabid, beast and see more of a frightened, alone, helpless, feeble, disoriented, confused, bothered, anx’d, troubled, lost…. (Chicken in the bread pan pickin’ at dough… Granny does your dog bite? No, child, no!) tamed critter (beast > critter) that just needs a friend in the world. Something aside from what only he can see, that is. I’m sure he has a ton of friends, but, ya know. It’s going to be hard for me to help this guy like he wants if we’re just going to just pick on Scooby Doo or ride around in a Ford truck looking for treasure with a Salmon-Coloured Minataur.
As feeble and as weak as you have looked. I have seen the cat and mouse game you have played with your oppressors. I have seen how you have drawn certain ones into your mess. (Break News: Jenny Mist was a victim (((((train-wreck))))) long before this guy came back into the picture. And then, of course, we must mention the man in stripes that would be joining us for this most fine occasion, am I right?
I will spare any sort of introductions here because it is hardly necessary. These two are already quite acquainted with one another, right? They’ve held hands (right hands, not left hands) before in the on-going non newsworthy war going on in the deep depths of going-nowhere in the XWF. Firstly and foremostly, these heathens that keep knocking this poor, helpless fellow down all the time are (were) far too small for their britches to begin with. Was the poor fellow just confused and happy for the attention? Was he relieved just to feel something when they branded his hand in front of the world? I guess that’s where this poor fellow, this jigsaw piece from a different puzzle, just doesn’t fit. And who swoops in? You guessed it! See, I think I understand it because he suffers from a similar, kinda goofy, identity-what am I supposed to do with myself-lost mentality. It makes sense that Corey Smith would come to your rescue, or at least try to. And it makes perfect sense that he would take your side in this friendly outing. I think Corey is mad at me because he needs to look strong in any kind of situation and I took that away from him when I swooped in and saved the boy when he couldn’t keep his two feet around Cataclysm. Then we did the deed and we were solidified. Corey never trusted me to begin with and he’ll tell you he was out for the boy’s well-being, but… as I said. He needs a shadow.
That’s when Corey Smith saw this poor, defenseless, maimed creature struggling to crawl itself to safety. Memories of King Doc flooded his mind, rising through the flames with his precious Thaddeus Duke cradled in his arms…… Oh the theatrics! This was his chance! He rushed to this poor creature’s aid! Risk over Reward! Even the threat of being bitten by this agitated, trapped animal… He reached out to help. What a great guy, but you can’t tell me his heart is in the right place. Dolly. The boy… The Commune… Hasn’t this guilt trip gone on long enough? It is only a matter of time before Corey finds himself in a weak moment and decides to start wreaking havoc on all of us all over again. That what? Is he going to burn down Dyson’s former residence? Is he going to transform it into some factory concentration camp (i dont know and i dont care) for the lost and abandoned with a blood stained helping hand?
I guess my point in bringing our Very Special Referee into this conversation is to say this. After all the times in battle. After weeks. After months. All of those times he spent looking over his shoulder… For his next challenge… For an attack…. For something sinister hiding in the shadows…. He can stand in battle that day, with Corey Smith standing between us, knowing that his greatest threat will not be coming from behind, but straight at him. Head-on. And I can assure all of you that it is going to be his greatest challenge he has ever faced. Corey Smith may play the tough-game with me, he may be expecting tricks and games to go all along with this, but he will come in quite useful if my opponent has any unwanted guests that wish to join the party. I certainly will not be bringing anyone, myself, because I expect that this fellow and I alone are capable of shaking the foundations of this already damned property. When it is all said and done and the final bell tolls, everyone will look back and agree that the result of this is already one they very deeply expected. They may deny it. THey may claim they truly believed in this mangy mutt that happened to just walk in out of the rain one night so we decided to start feeding it. They take a liking to this thing. But let’s be honest with ourselves here. Truly. Setting your little hearts on something while accompanying it with a spoonful of dread is just wishful thinking. And everyone is just going to get mad at me again.
That piece of lint has no home. It has no place. It drifts along, mindlessly, fluttering in the wind with no cares and no direction. Just being carried by an even more curious breeze only to be snagged by a nail. Stuck. The ol’ permanent nail. I can empathize with the lint. I can relate to it, too. See, I, too, am not permanent like the nail. I come and go. Sway with whatever direction the curious breeze decides to take me. I am the smolder left in the ashtray just a few feet away. I am the soot and remnants of a flame that could be as significant as it wishes if it just tries. The lint, it stays and dances with the nail. It plays with the nail. It envies the nail. While the small flame sits in wait, dancing with itself, when suddenly the lint lets go and tumbles…. Flutters along once again towards the flame. How exciting. Will it have a dance like it did with the nail? Or will it pass by, without a care. No. It's coming this way. Will it stop? Will it envy the flame as it does the nail? Will it care at all? The lint, it does not. At least, I’m not sure if it does. It did not dance as it passed through the flame as it did the nail. It did not hold onto play. It did not struggle. It did not fight. It simply ceased to be. Like it never was. Like it never mattered. Like it never had a place to begin with.
The main hall of the castle smells of chicken fat, sweat, and bad dreams.
A long table sits with the entire King’s Court, except Ghost Tank, all dressed in their own special suits of armor, present around it. CCP sits next to the head of the table across from Miss Fury. TK and Bob next to one another. They’re all congregating, enjoying mead, and silly stories when Andre Dixon steps into the room, also in a full suit of armor.
Yo! Uh, presenting! This mother fucker right here! King Doc!
Trumpets sound from somewhere and King Doc walks into the hall in a shimmering, gold suit of armor.
Hello, my dear friends!
They all stand and in unison respond with either a “Your majesty”, “Sire!”, or “Sup” (from TK). They’re all seated then with the King and enjoy more mead and stories when Barney dressed in a friar robe runs into the hall.
Sire!
The King looks up from his goblet and calls Friar Barney forward.
What is it, Father of Violence?
Out of breath Barney does his breath to explain what has happened. There had been an intrusion and Ghost Tank had already taken them to the dungeon for question. Intrigued about this, King Doc insisted the Royal Court check out the situation and what Ghost Tank was up to.
To the Royal Torture Chamber!
Within a few strange moments the entire entourage is standing looking on as Ghost Tank whips the crap out of some guy hanging with a chain. King Doc approaches and holds up a hand.
What is the meaning of this? Who is this man?
Ghost Tank looks down at King Doc with a petty look.
{ghosttankfont}An intruder! And I’m trying to beat some information out of him! What does it look like?!{/ghosttankfont}
And?
{ghosttankfont}He won’t SPEAK!{/ghosttankfont}
Ghost Tank says as he whips the chain across this poor man’s back once again. The fellow yells out and screams for help quite verbally.
I thought he wouldn’t speak?
Ghost Tank shrugs.
{ghosttankfont}Nothing useful.{/ghosttankfont}
Ghost Tank goes to whip the man again, but King Doc holds up his gauntlet to cease.
How about letting me have a go at it?
Ghost Tank steps aside with the rest of BoB and watches on as they’re all showered in blood within seconds and the man hanging screams out in agony that should only come from a stuck pig.
CCP, Bob, and Miss Fury all share a, “WOAH!!” expression while Ghost Tank turns around and throws up.
Awesome!!!!
King Doc walks back over, his hand and gauntlet covered in blood. The entire court, except Ghost Tank, all look on at their King in awe and before they can speak their is a loud bang and the smashing of glass that echoes throughout the entire room at deafening decibels!
In a flash they’re all back in the main hall and several troops in black and blue armor have rushed in!
We’re under siege!!
Ghost Tank doesn’t hesitate to lift a gold statue of King Doc resting on the mantle by the fireplace and, like nothing, throw it across the room taking out three troops. TK and Bob rush a group themselves and with keen Knight-like nina skills take them out easily, as well. CCP and Fury tag up and take on a group themselves while the King steps past them all and steps outside. Several chariots with more soldiers arrive on the scene and King Doc takes one of his own towers and waves the gauntlet sending it crashing down on them! Several more chariots from another direction stop in front of the castle and more troops, better equipped troops, come out! At this point, the rest of the King’s Court has stepped outside with him and are witnessing the mayhem for themselves!
What the fuck are we gonna do?!
This battle will not cease. We must flee for now.
But your fortress, Sire!
There will be others! We must go! Now!
The group of them scurry away around the outside perimeter of the castle and into the darkness of the night leaving a scene of flames and wreckage behind them.
”Tonight on the 11 o’clock News!”
On a television screen, surely somewhere, is a new anchor and a small display of a motel completely torn apart.
”Horrific events have taken place at a local motel this evening. Police say a group of five to ten people occupied a room at this motel and tortured and killed the fifty-three year old manager.”
Grizzly, blurred out scenes of the room are shown on the screen. Really nothing to see, actually.
”When police arrived, a man in the group was already outside, but police were unable to make contact with him before fleeing back inside. The police entered the room and were instantly attacked by the group. Several officers were killed and injured in the line of duty.”
A scene outside the motel where the large motel sign is toppled over on top of several squad cars.
”The only images we could capture of these horrible events were captured by a CNN reporter who just made it to the scene!”
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