CLASH #302 – THE RUBBLE

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[edgtf_highlight background_color=”#dddd80″ color=”#000000″]   “MOUNT OLYMPUS HAS FALLEN, PART II”   [/edgtf_highlight]

Click.

Static covers the screen as a Play ► symbol appears in the bottom right-hand corner.

We open with an absolute panic. Medical staff are running back and forth like lunatics, searching for equipment and materials that’ll help them. Meanwhile, Zeus lays on a hospital bed with tubes sticking out of his arm and a flustered look upon his face.

“All this is unnecessary,” he claims, sitting up on the bed.

“Sir, please let us take care of you,” one of the nurses replies. “You’re the most important man in the world. We need to run tests and make sure you’re okay.”

He rolls his eyes as Ares walks in.

“Olympus is fine; we’ve ran through it with a fine tooth comb. Hephaestus has built a new ring and there’ll be no disruption to CLASH. Do you remember what happened?” The Bodyguard asks.

“Doom saved me,” Zeus replies with a tilt of the head. “He deployed a protective bubble that protected us both.”

“That explains the casualties,” Ares confirms. “Those who touched the bubble were electrocuted. We had to remove the rubble from around it before Doom would release it.”

The Baron shrugs nonchalantly.

“Good. Put him on the list, won’t you? I owe Dr. Doom a great deal,” Zeus reminds Ares. “Now, I must rest.”

Instead of walking away, Ares comes closer.

“Who did this, Zeus?” He asks carefully. “Was it Caesar?”

Zeus doesn’t say anything; he just shakes his head.

“We need to find the person responsible and put an end to this,” Ares protests against the backdrop of silence. “Who did this?”

Again, Zeus says nothing.

“You know, don’t you?” Ares probes.

Again, nothing.

“I’ll leave you to rest,” he says finally. “And if you want to tell me who we need to go after, then I’m all ears. I’ve put a protective detail on the doors whilst you’re assessed here in Medbay.”

Zeus nods.

Cut.

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[edgtf_highlight background_color=”#dddd80″ color=”#000000″]   “ARRIVAL”   [/edgtf_highlight]

Don’t be late!

A few stragglers rush to get into the show, all running around a group of individuals meandering towards the entrance.

The Third Eye.

With Vision at their head, the group slowly marches towards the entrance. Vision has not stepped foot in Olympus yet.

Yet.

Tonight, he has chosen to finally enter the fray of OSW.

But another group stands in front of the doorway.

At their head is a familiar sight.

Grimskull.

Led by his staff, Vision approaches the Watcher.

“Come to finish the job?” Grimskull growls, his followers becoming more agitated.

“If I wished you harm, you wouldn’t be standing here.” Vision replies. “I have heard of this attack on you from one bearing the mark of the Third Eye.”

With a nod, one of Vision’s followers comes forward to present something to Grimskull.

A chisel.

“I have many of these.” Grimskull chuckles. “Instruments of pain are my domain, blind one.”

“Ah,” Vision says with a smile. “The Third Eye sees what you cannot. Your attacker chose to assault you with a steel chair. I would not have used such a blunt weapon, old friend.”

His smile turns into a sneer.

“No, for you I chose a more delicate weapon. One that will slowly whittle away all that you are. Just as you do to those who follow you. Then when you at last beg for mercy, I will do as you did to those who you called weak.”

Pause. He doesn’t need to finish that sentence.

Vision changes tactic, broadly sweeping his arms around him.

“Someone is trying to sow discord among our followers. I would like to know who it is.”

The Preacher eyes Vision cautiously.

“As would I, old friend.” He says, returning the mocking tone he was addressed with. “I do not need your help, as those without eyes cannot see.”

He pauses.

“Yet there is a strange way about you, Vision.”

The two men seem to have reached a silent agreement.

“Then let’s proceed.” Vision responds after a moment.

Cut.

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[edgtf_highlight background_color=”#dddd80″ color=”#000000″]   “CURIOUSER AND CURIOUSER”   [/edgtf_highlight]

A sign with gold lettering welcomes us to Deville’s Curiosities. Inside, the shelves are stacked to the rafters with all manner of trinkets, gadgets, and other items.

People mill about the place, looking for that one perfect thing to make their dreams come true. They know it’s in here.

It always is.

But what will it cost them.

Draco Deville himself is busy at the cash register talking with a scruffy white guy with long black hair and a studded leather jacket.

“And you’re sure I’ll get what I need here?” says the man through pointed teeth.

It’s Blacktooth.

“Of course. He’ll be able to give you exactly what you need, but it will of course come at a price. And I will take my own pound of flesh for providing you with a way in.”

Blacktooth stares at him.

“I should teach you a lesson for taking advantage of me. But the truth is if this works out then it will all have been worth it anyway.”

Blacktooth takes a bag and tips the contents onto the cash register. It’s a significant amount of credits.

“Now,” Blacktooth states, matter-of-factly. “Give me the address.”

“Of course,” says Draco. “Here it is.”

He drops a note on the cash register.

“We here at Deville’s Curiosities thank you for your custom.”

Blacktooth leaves the shop, leaving Draco to tend to one of his other customers.

Cut.

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[edgtf_highlight background_color=”#dddd80″ color=”#000000″]   “THE GUT”   [/edgtf_highlight]

Gasp!

Drewitt awakens from a brief slumber with sweat dripping down the inside of his mask. This isn’t the first bad dream he’s had since meeting Teddy O’Toole; in fact, there have been a few. He sits up and takes a breath, just as the aforementioned Candy Man rounds the corner.

“Are we ready to go?” He asks chipperly. “The Groves await, my dearest associate!”

“Listen, somethin’ ain’t right,” Drewitt responds, standing to meet him. “I’ve been dreamin’ of The Groves since you offered me the job. Somethin’ bad is down there, I can feel it in my gut. I always trust my gut, Ted.”

The Candy Man shrugs, slipping his hand deeper into his jacket and pulling out a relatively large bag of credits.

“How would your gut feel with a few more credits on the hip?” He asks, tossing him the brown tied up bag. “I’m sure danger is plentiful down there, but that’s why I’m taking the best guide in Arcadia.”

Drewitt looks inside the bag and nods.

“If you wanna do this, then we gotta do it right. We need to go somewhere first and make sure that what you’re lookin’ for even exists down there,” The Explorer says.

“Very well,” shrugs O’Toole. “Meet me at the Ol’ Factory tomorrow and we’ll go wherever you want to go. Out of curiosity, old pal, where exactly are we going?”

“The Library,” Drewitt says with a nod. “The only place that’ll tell us if the root grows in The Groves, for sure. If it’s there, someone would’ve documented it.”

“A wonderful idea,” O’Toole says with a toothy smile. “That’s exactly why I pay you, my good man; that and to protect my ingenious creative mind from danger of course.”

“Naturally,” The Explorer responds. “I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

Cut.

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[edgtf_highlight background_color=”#dddd80″ color=”#000000″]   “AFTERMATH”   [/edgtf_highlight]

Previously Recorded.

The night of Olympus.

We find Destructo Boy watching the commotion going on in the ring from a monitor backstage, eyes wide as Olympus falls! He goes to run, to help, but a hand on his shoulder pulls him back from going onto the ramp.

The Burned Man.

“I wouldn’t go out there, kid.” His raspy voice is low, barely heard over the commotion on the monitor as Destructo Boy pulls against his grasp, yanking his arm free and turning to face the mummy, scowling.

“What!? People out there could have died, they need help.” Destructo Boy goes to run again but The Burned Man grabs his shirt again, yanking him back and shaking his head only for the young hero to shove him away! Burned Man, however, stands stoically and shakes his head.

“You’re admirable, boy, you are. They don’t need you, and the only ones who may have perished are a villain and a baron,” he says, looming over the young hero with a sense of determination to his voice. “Why would you try and brave those flames for a tyrant and a madman?”

James looks back at the monitor, fists clenched tightly around his weapon before he looks back at the man now standing in his way. “We don’t need to let them die, if they’re going to be punished for their actions it shouldn’t be death! Killing doesn’t do anything, letting people die doesn’t do anything. A hero has to be willing to save people, even when he thinks those people don’t deserve it.”

“Kid,” a sigh slips out of The Burned Man’s mouth, taking a deep breath as he looks him in the eyes. “I’m living proof that sometimes it’s kinder just to let someone die.” Those words clearly hit like a truck as Destructo Boy listens to them. The Burned Man turns to leave, letting those words hang in the air.

Destructo Boy, meanwhile, watching the monitor, begrudgingly leaving soon after as he sees a plethora of men storm the ring to help in the aftermath.

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[edgtf_highlight background_color=”#dddd80″ color=”#000000″]   “APPLICATION APPROVED”   [/edgtf_highlight]

With the match over, Damien Wolfe gets back to his feet. He’s still looking a little shaky, as you’d expect. That was also one hell of a match. He retrieves a microphone and immediately makes a call for Felix.

“Felix!” He roars out into the crowd. “I know you’re back there. Please, come on out here right now. I’ve signed off your application!”

The crowd roars in approval as “Felix Foley’s Funhouse Theme” by The Funhouse Band plays out into Olympus. Green strobe lights flash as Felix steps out and waves at his adoring fans. He has a microphone in his hand and starts walking towards the stage.

The music slowly fades away.

“You’ve signed off my application, Mr. Wolfe?” He asks nervously, walking up the steps.

“I looked into the charges against you of being a member of the Uprising and saw that they were dropped upon investigation,” he admits.

Felix enters the ring, all smiles.

“Therefore, I’m delighted to announce that your application for reinstatement of Foley’s Funhouse has been agreed and accepted,” Damien offers with a fake smile. “There is unfortunately, one condition.”

Foley looks confused.

“Felix Foley’s Funhouse must take place here, in Olympus,” he announces. “Right here, in fact, in this very ring.”

That surprises Foley.

“And Mr. Zeus is okay with that?” He queries.

Wolfe nods.

“Are we okay now, Mr. Foley?” Damien asks sincerely; almost dripping with fear. “Are we okay?”

Felix doesn’t understand, he just shrugs.

“Wonderful,” The Conservator says nervously.

Flash.

Red lights suddenly begin surrounding the ring. Wolfe immediately takes off, making a b-line through the middle ropes of the ring and landing on his feet outside it. As a red spotlight appears above his head, he literally dives off the stage into the crowd.

WOMP!

He falls flat on his face, smashing his nose and glasses into the floor as the crowd move aside and let him fall.

The lights come back on, revealing a terrified Damien Wolfe laid flat on his stomach, nose bloodied, turning over to look back at Foley with fear.

Cut.

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[edgtf_highlight background_color=”#dddd80″ color=”#000000″]   “SHEET MUSIC”   [/edgtf_highlight]

The Gallery.

Home of the many works of art belonging to Jasper Redgrave, it is not the Artist we find ourselves looking at…but rather, El Mariachi Muerte and Dr. Death.

And there is something…different about the latter.

Dressed in a black mask and tights adorned with his visage, Dr. Death cuts a very different figure. Whether the song of El Mariachi Muerte has brought him to this new attitude, or simply the influence of a new ally, remains to be seen…but what is plain is that this alliance has found its way to Jasper’s natural habitat.

“Every artist has his canvas to paint upon,” Death says, a hushed tone so as to not draw attention to himself as he gets a glimpse from a distance of Jasper begin his latest work of art…a hapless victim whose screams nearly drown out the conversation at hand.

“Just as every song can be written to sheet music,” replies Muerte, his gaze fixed upon the violence being conducted afar. We soon see the precise instrument of the Artist’s work, as Redgrave brandishes a hacksaw…much to the terror of his victim, who squirms in an attempt to escape as the duo of death look on in fascination.

“What precision,” Death says, a sense of glee in his voice as he watches the manner in which Redgrave takes the hacksaw to the arm of his victim, who screams in agony…a tune that seems to perk up the ears of the Singing Death as he chimes in.

“What a tune, amigo. He truly is an artist.”

The pair continue their study of the work in progress, until the Artist takes a pause. Setting the hacksaw down on a nearby table, Jasper whispers something into the ear of his victim before hastily making an exit, confusing the duo of death as they look to each other to make sense of what they’ve just witnessed.

“What would call an artist away from his work?” wonders the Doc de la Muerte, to which his compatriot simply shrugs his shoulders.

“Whatever it may be, we should look to explore this place more at the lugar y tiempo adecuado.”

The doctor nods his head in agreement with the statement, responding back in kind.

“The proper place and time.”

Cut.

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[edgtf_highlight background_color=”#dddd80″ color=”#000000″]   “GOODNIGHT, GENTLEMEN”   [/edgtf_highlight]

With the match over, tensions are boiling. Caesar XL and Colt Ramsey immediately get in each other’s faces, the latter standing on tip toes to jaw at the former.

Suddenly, gas begins filling the ring.

Both men cough, splutter and choke as they stumble backwards and around, trying to escape the smoke that now fills the entire area.

Before long, they drop.

They both drop.

Colt Ramsey and Caesar XL collapse, fading into unconsciousness in the middle of the ring.

That’s when the OSW World Champion appears, wearing a gas mask and standing over the two fallen men.

“Goodnight, gentlemen,” Stubbins says carefully. “When you awake, we’ll have a nice little chat about how Mount Olympus blew up and yours truly was almost buried beneath it.”

With that said, both men lose consciousness.

“Until then, enjoy your sleep.”

He motions for his minions to come along and grab the bodies, pulling both Caesar and Ramsey from the ring and escorting them away.

Cut.

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[edgtf_highlight background_color=”#dddd80″ color=”#000000″]   “red light”   [/edgtf_highlight]

We’re in the Red District. A down and dirty level of Arcadia only known for one or two reasons. Sex and drugs.

Both of them pimped with great aplomb by Drexl, who stands, be-dreadlocked, a smirk on his face, outside an ornate door. The lights in the area are red, casting him in an eerie light.

“Wagwan?” he asks, that crooked smile widening.

Standing across from him is none other than Blacktooth. 

So this was the address he bought earlier.

“I’ve been told that this is the place to come if I’m looking for… some body to keep me warm.”

“If you got the grip for a dilly, I can spot you someone to keep you warm for a night, homeboy.”

“Perfect. I can pay you handsomely. I’m going to need to make this a regular occurrence. Can you help with that?”

With that, another bag of credits finds it’s way to Drexl’s hands, and his eyes light up.

“Woah, this is fly as shit. Girls, meet your new best friend for the night.”

Drexl counts his credits as Blacktooth takes the girls outside of the level. When he gets there, a band of Blood Runners are waiting.

“Gentlemen, I’ve found us a sustainable way to feed our desires. Here, take them and do with them as you wish.”

Each of the Runners take the hand of one of the scantilly clad girls, who are expecting to satiate the lusts of these men for one night only.

What they don’t expect is that they’ll satiate them quite literally. The Blood Runners all start to bite chunks out of the whores Drexl provided, their meal for the day provided by Blacktooth.

But nobody hears their bloodcurdling screams as they succumb to a slow and painful death, the Blood Runners with the blood of their victims dripping from their chins as they feast on the guts of the working girls.

Cut.

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[edgtf_highlight background_color=”#dddd80″ color=”#000000″]   “FABRIC”   [/edgtf_highlight]

The Bleak

Darkened corners of The Bleak seem devoid of life, save for a single soul. A female. She walks, with hood drawn up over her head, determination in her step.

That is, until she comes to a halt, looking about her. She has the sudden feeling she is being watched.

Narcissa Balenciaga throws the hood off her cloak and looks about her into the shadows. A slow drawn out laughter comes in reply.

“There’s monsters in these parts. Horrors live in my shadows.”

Narcissa doesn’t look deterred.

“There’s also beauty in everything. Even in you, Mannfred Curze.”

Curze steps out of the shadows, showing himself to Balenciaga with a slow clap.

“I’m impressed. But that doesn’t change the fact that you should not be here. You may have fallen from grace, but even you haven’t fallen this far. Leave my region alone.”

Narcissa shakes her head.

“In my line of work, you go where the creativity leads you. I desire fibers, that is all. Fibres to make a truly unique, dark fabric. These do not exist anywhere in Arcadia… Except…”

Mannfred doesn’t need her to finish the sentence. He knows what Narcissa is getting at. As he walks, he moves around, making his way around a shadowy corner. Balenciaga keeps step with him.

“This is not an area of Arcadia that you can merely go poking around in. People down here don’t like outsiders. I don’t like outsiders.”

He beckons her away.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave. Don’t come back.”

As if to punctuate his point, he stops ahead of a single spot that is illuminated by a flickering light. In the light, clearly displayed purposefully, is the fresh body of a woman around Narcissa’s age upon a stake. She looks upon the sight, shocked at the warning before her.

By the time that she manages to draw her eyes away from the decomposing body, Mannfred Curze is gone, but his voice echoes around the Bleak.

“I will be watching.”

Cut.

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[edgtf_highlight background_color=”#dddd80″ color=”#000000″]   “FLOWERS”   [/edgtf_highlight]

Cloverfields

We see the serenity of the seemingly empty field of clovers, we now know as the Lucky Charms hideout. We know that there are eyes watching in the hills surrounding Cloverfields.

But the figure who tiptoes across the field barefoot, carrying a basket half-filled with flowers is blissfully unaware of where she has wandered.

Gemini.

She hums a little tune to herself as she skips about, bending over to pick clovers and daisies. Eventually, she wanders near the rocky wall at the back of the field. It is here that she hears a voice.

“Don’t take another feckin’ step, lass.”

Gemini looks about, confused.

“Is it a bee? I’m going to step on a bee, I just know it.”

Two figures emerge from the rocks, daggers in their hands. Tallywhack and Knick Knack. Tallywhack points his dagger.

“Ye’ve got more than a wee bee on yer hands Missie.”

“Ye better have a bloody good reason for steppin’ on our land.”

Gemini smiles, giving the Lucky Charms a wave of greeting. She seems none too aware still of the predicament she’s in.

“Well, I can’t really understand you too well, but aren’t you two little cuties?”

Both Lucky Charms eyes widen. Blades rise higher. But Gemini keeps on talking.

“You have some lovely flowers here. Have you felt the grass between your toes? It’s simply magical.”

Tallywhack looks to his brother.

“How do ya shut her up?”

“I’ve got some idea.”

Knick Knack lunges forward, dagger aiming right at Gemini’s chest. But she by now has turned her back on him, and is busy kneeling to collect a four-leaved clover.

“Ooooh, you two are some lucky little fellows!”

Knick Knack sails right over her, flipping back first onto the ground… Much to Tallywhacks amusement, which he shows with a raucous bellow of laughter.

Gemini looks down, seeing Knick Knack on the ground. She looks more confused than ever.

“How’d you get down there, little guy? D’ya need a hand?”

She holds out her hand to help Knick Knack up, but he merely bites her on the finger.

“Feck off, ye little bitch.”

Gemini retracts, hurt and offended. She has no idea why he’s acting like this.

“Why, that’s not a nice way of talking. I don’t think I’m going to share my daisy-chain with you.”

She turns on her heel and pouts off across the field. Behind her, the Lucky Charms both step forward, throwing daggers in hand. Knick Knack and Tallywhack both launch their daggers across the field, lining up perfectly with Gemini’s back.

But another figure hurls himself into the path of the incoming daggers.

Kpavio!

The Skull leaps into the air, taking both daggers to the chest. Gemini has no idea he was even there, but her tag team partner just saved her life.

His body hits the ground in the middle of the Cloverfield.

Cut.

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[edgtf_highlight background_color=”#dddd80″ color=”#000000″]   “SPECIAL ASSIGNMENT”   [/edgtf_highlight]

Sometime later.

The Eagle’s Nest.

Jackson Cade makes his way into the secure headquarters of Eagle Unit. Computers line the walls of the main chamber, each one showing different areas of Arcadia.

If there’s something amiss where they have eyes, Eagle Unit will know about it.

Grabbing a cup of water, Cade chugs it as he makes his way to a side office.

Behind a desk sits a dark skinned officer looking concerned.

“Captain.” Cade says with a salute. “You wanted to see me?”

The Captain returns the salute, then motions for Cade to stay standing. He walks around the desk and shuts the door.

“Alright, kid.” The Captain begins. “I’ve got a special assignment for you. For your ears only.”

Perseus nods, waiting. The Captain takes a deep breath.

“It’s Riggs. Sr. Specialist Riggs.”

Cade’s eyebrow raises.

“I know he trained you, Jack. Took you under his wing, and made you into an Eagle.”

Pause.

“Is this another retirement party?” Cade says with a smile. “I know he’s one day out from the big day.”

His smile dies from the look on the Captain’s face.

“He went into the lower levels on a tip the other day, and he hasn’t come back. His radio’s been shut off. No one’s heard hide nor hair of the sumbitch.”

Walking back to his desk, the Captain picks up a box.

“And then earlier today, this was dropped off outside the Nest. It has your name on it.”

Jackson takes the box, carefully opening it. His mouth drops as he sees what’s inside.

A hand.

A goddamned hand.

The wrist bone has been roughly sawed through, a sign of struggle. Then most strange, there is no blood at all. The hand’s been drained of it.

The only marking is a handwritten note, addressed to “Little Eagle.”

Cade picks it up, reading it aloud.

“One Day Changes Everything.”

Cade crumples it up, looking at the Captain.

“Bring Riggs home, Jack.”

The Specialist’s face floods with rage.

“Jasper fucking Redgrave.”

Cut.