Dashboard vs Kong

FITE MUSIK!

These bars of tempered steel have contained the burning passions of many warrior souls. However, they may have met their match against one man’s ego!

Lights!

Arrays of high intensity spot lights bathed the underground arena with artificial luminance.

Camera!

No corner of the underground arena was hidden from the ominous gaze of the media. There were at least 5 cameras covering the inside of the cage itself, ensuring that no blood splatter, no chipped tooth, and no flaming fist would escape unseen from multiple angles.

ACTION!

Pyrotechnics spewed forth from the four corners of the cage. As far as the occupants of this underground battlezone were concerned, the Fourth of July had come early (or late depending on whom you ask). The masses had gathered to witness what they felt would be a legendary event. They screamed, they shouted, and they waved homemade signs and billboards. It was a cacophony of awesome.

He couldn’t blame them.

The ground level lights angled themselves upwards and honed in on a focal point at the apex of the cage’s domed ceiling. There, hanging upside-down with his legs wrapped over the bars, was Dashboard. Somewhere, somehow, for some reason, he had returned to Heaven or Hell’s cast of characters. It had been a long time coming.

The crowds roared. Many have heard the rumors, but few believed them. Although saddened by absence of the team “Black in Action” in its entirety, it was some consolation that its captain was back in the game.

The man smiled and waved. He adored his fans, even the ones who STILL kept asking him about Reiko. He hadn’t seen Reiko in years, something he had been hoping to change but that’s another story altogether. At a glance, Dash looked as if he had just gotten out of bed as opposed to being ready to fight. He wore a satin robe tied at the waist with matching pajama pants. On his feet was a pair of bunny slippers, and they looked pissed off. His hair was still in tight braids and he was clean shaven except for his neatly trimmed ‘stache.

Damn, he still looked good.

Dash glanced up-err down at the straw-hat newcomer, greeting him with a single raised brow. At last, his opponent had arrived. He made quick mental notes about the man’s appearance: his manner, his poise, his physique, his weapon, and especially his hat.

Damn, I’d look pretty good in one of those. I’ve got to ask’em where he bought it, later.

Vanity first, right?

When the guy started mumbling to him in some Far Eastern gibberish, he nodded. Dash didn’t know what the hell was just said to him, but the hand gesture was pretty universal. He rocked his torso back and forth, building up enough momentum to curl up and grab the bars on the ceiling with his hands. Afterwards, he unhooked his legs and went hand over hand along the ceiling as if he were rockin’ the monkeybars in the schoolyard. As he got to the wall, he let go and landed lightly on the far end of the cage opposite his opponent. He made sure to keep tabs on Mr. Kong the whole way in case he got any ideas with that little saber of his.

Now facing the gigantic Asian, Dash brought his right hand to his chin and nodded approvingly. Dash was about 5 inches shorter and 20 lbs lighter than Kong.

“You look determined. That’s good, buuuuut…” Dash began in his typical arrogant tone. “I’m going to need more.” Dash reached back and grabbed hold of the nearest weapon on the wall. It was a quarter staff. Dash held it first in his right hand and then switched it to his left, testing the weapon’s quality before finally gripping it in both. He took a quick glance and the timer that was tucked away in the corner of the cage.

“You have 3 minutes to prove that you aren’t a waste of my time.”

Dash planted his left foot forward and bent his knees slightly, taking up a ready stance. The staff was held in both hands, the end closest to Kong pointing at his head.

[1]

Dash watched his opponent start to push off and reacted in a very peculiar way.

“Whoa there trooper!”

He shuffled forward while extending the staff towards Kong in attempt to plant the end of it firmly into the man’s chest. His grip is adjusted further down the staff to increase range. Should his foe charge straight into it, Dash’s footing would give and he’d just allow himself to backpedal into the ropes. No need to waste effort resisting this guy’s momentum. The elasticity of the ropes will do this for him. Oddly enough, since Dash doesn’t stand his ground, this action will do little more than halt the swordsman’s charge and do no damage. Ideally, Dash would end up be leaning against the ropes playing keep away with the end of his staff.

“That thing looks dangerous. You are aware of the no killing rule, correct?”

[2]

CLICK!

There goes the parry-

SHRING!

-and here comes the blade!

The next ten seconds would put all of the arena’s cameras to use. Ladies and gents, here comes our first highlight reel.

Having failed to halt the swordsman’s charge, Dash still ended up leaning against the ropes, only without the added weight of the Asian pressing against him. He planted his legs, bent his knees, released the staff with his left hand, and pushed back. The ropes gave way at the exact moment Kong’s blade flashed towards him.

First blood went to Kong, but Dash’s maneuver had left him with a much shallower cut than it otherwise would have been. It still bled and hurt like hell. Reducing bodily damage wasn’t the only motivation behind Dash’s actions. His true intentions became clear when the ropes snapped back into place.

Dash used the elasticity of the roping to send him forward and all up in Kong’s grill as he was still recovering from his slash. In almost an instant, they were eye to eye, face to face and belly to belly.

Dash’s right hand held the staff by the center as he wrapped it Kong’s waist. His left reached around to grab the other end of the staff, locking it in place as he held his opponent in a “loving” embrace. Assuming both of Kong’s hands remained on his weapon as he followed through with his slash, this would leave Dash’s left shoulder pressing against Kong’s left upper arm, preventing him from moving that arm back around to engage in whatever shenanigans he had planned This would leave his right arm extended in the follow through motion as well.

The bathrobe warrior took a couple steps forward, attempting to gain some clearance from the ropes behind him. Dash’s knees bent once more and he straightened his back as if preparing to lift the Asian off his feet. The crowd went wild as they immediately recognized the actions and knew what was coming next.

BELLY TO BELLY SUPLEX!?

Yes, Dash could have bent his body back into a bridge and sent the Asian warrior face first into the concrete floor beneath them. He could have...

-but didn’t.

Instead, he glanced up at Kong, smiled, and simply said:

“That’s one.”

No suplex = PISSED OFF CROWD!

In what the audience viewed as a weak attempt at a consolation, Dash starting moving once more, attempting to push Kong back towards the opposite side of the ring. He’d continue until they reached the ropes themselves. Whether or not they got that far remained to be seen.

Oh, and Dash made extra sure he got blood all over Kong's clothes... that jerk.

[3]

Forehead met forehead.

Dash certainly did not order a large headache to go with his sword gash. Although he did entertain the thought of hanging onto the staff and have the two of them bash skulls for the next couple minutes. The audience would love that. Too bad he’d have to disappoint those poor bastards.

One successful shove later, they were separated.

“Ow…? It’s bad enough you sliced up my good robe and got it all bloody… but do you HAVE to give me a headache as well? Sheesh… I’ve got interviews after this, pal.” Dash growled. Whether or not he was being sarcastic remained a mystery.

The crowd of course, remained PISSED OFF and made sure that the two fighters knew this. If it weren’t for the fact that they were inside a cage, the two of them would no doubt be covered in overpriced hotdogs and booze. Dash decided to try and appease the spectators with a little showmanship. During the brief session of fancy staff twirling that followed, he suddenly lost control of the weapon! Was this intentional or an accident?

Regardless, Kong now had to deal with a rotating staff flying straight at his face!

[4]

Our cornrow’d champion appeared to have gotten into quite a predicament. As the staff was batted aside, Dash was met with twin kisses from Kong’s swords. He tried his best to hop backwards and avoid the attacks only to be rewarded with a bloodly ‘X’ pattern carved into his torso. The cuts themselves weren’t deep, but those were the type of wounds that always hurt like hell.

Dash’s upper body was an inferno of pain. He ran his right hand along the wounds on his chest, smearing his palm with blood.

It was clear that if this exhibition were to continue, Dash was going to have to do something about those swords.

As if to renew his resolve, he streaked some of his own blood across his cheeks. His lifeblood became war paint and his face contorted into a wild, bug-eyed look. Suddenly, he tore off the upper portion of his bloody robe and let out a bird-call that Bruce Lee would appreciate, his entire body trembling in the process!

“WWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-YOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW!”

Then he ran.

Dash turned tail and bolted, slipping through the ropes behind him and reaching the cage wall.

The audience may have misunderstood what was going on and their discontent grew louder. Was this jerk running away from the swordsman?

No, wait! What’s he-

Dash wasn’t fleeing in fear, he simple needed to rearm.

Turning once more to towards the ring and his opponent he’d have a wild grin on face and two new weapons in his hands:

They were both shields.

They were both awesome.

They were both ready for bashing.

In his right hand was a small medieval buckler. In his left hand he held a huge disk of wood and bronze with a lambda etched onto it.

Now, once Dash figured out how to get back into the ring, s**t was going to go down.

[5]

It was time.

As his opponent’s cloak soared down to greet him, Dash instinctively raised the shield in his left hand. There was something peculiar about that shield, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. For some reason he felt a strange urge rising inside his very being, nipping at his soul like rats in a gain storage.

It was an urge that could only be satiated… WITH A FLASHBACK!

Dash’s conscience was taken to a time where he was but a young nappy-headed hoodlum dressed in tattered rags and filthy from the elements.

“You called me, father?” Young Dash kneeled before a figure sitting in the shadows. They were at an old dojo at an undisclosed location in the mountains.

“My son, I have consulted the oracle and I bring you news.” the old man responded. Dash blinked, he’d heard about this “oracle” person from the locals of his village. From what he’d gathered, she sounded like a fortune telling druggy stripper.

“News?”

“Yes, I gazed into her voluptuous bosoms and saw… your destiny!”

“…” Dash just listened.

“I saw you doing battle in a subterranean coliseum wrought of stone and steel! You were before a sea of a thousand eyes all thirsting for blood and yearning for the death cries of the defeated! You faced a tall warrior wielding blades sharp enough to split the heavens and a hat so massive it blots out the sun!”

“But father, how can it blot out the sun if we’re underground?” Dash asked, confused.

“Shut up boy and heed my words! You must be prepared! Do not take this battle lightly or it will be your undoing!”

And so Dash trained, all the while the words of his father (as well as several random people) resonated through his mind, driving him to push harder.

-Cue Montage of random s**t!

“We Crutanians are descendant from Azaria herself!” Dash muttered to himself in a memory involving a cliff with a dramatic view of sunrise.

“This is MADNESS!” Dash exclaimed during a brief recollection of some bizarre training exercise involving flaming poles and a snake pit.

“Madness? Well yeah, I’m inclined to agree.” His sensei responded.

“Before this match is over, everyone will know that one man-” Dash is seen entering the underground arena, smiling and waving. ”-stood against an army of… another man!” And Kong is seen here, looking like a complete badass with his straw hat and all.

“Grab your pepto bismol because- TONIGHT WE DINE, IN HELL!” Dash yelled to his teammates sitting in the old “Black in Action” Tour-Semi. Being broke as hell, they all prepared to head through the drive-thru of some crappy Gaia fast food restaurant.

Cut to the present.

Okay, maybe none of that stuff actually happened. This didn’t stop the wild fantasy from giving Dash the motivation to raise his shield, allowing the cloak to rest upon it.

CLANG!

Kong’s blade slammed into the bronze disk and Dash recoiled, bending his knees to absorb the shock. However, this wasn’t finished.

Bending his knees also served a second purpose: to store up some energy for a MASSIVE PUSH UPWARD!

The man’s legs extended as he pressed against the shield with tremendous strength. His goal was to force Kong off of him and into the ropes of the ring, hell, maybe even back over them.

“GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

[6]

Dash had his foe against the ropes, now it was truly time for s**t to go down. He continued his advance, making sure to keep the shield pressed firmly against Kong’s upper torso. Dash didn’t want the man going anywhere. He felt the resistance of the swordsman maneuvering about. Maybe he was trying to utilize his blade at this range? Perhaps his opponent was not entirely familiar with the shield Dash had brought against him.

There was no way in hell that sword was going to reach Dash in any meaningful way. Kong would find himself hard pressed to move his arms at all due to the size of the shield pressing against him. Try as he may, the blade would only have the sturdy bonze working to toy with.

That damned cloak still covered the shield like a crimson tarp, thus preventing Dash from seeing exactly what his foe was trying to do, but it wouldn’t matter. As stated earlier he’d be smashing the shield against Kong’s upper torso so the sword was pretty much neutralized. As for Kong’s legs trying to kick the shield away, good luck with that. Dash was pretty damn close and Kong would have a hell of a time trying to kick a leg up between himself and the shield before Dash would be pressing it against his body.

“So now you want to play dirty?”

Dash’s right arm, the one holding the much smaller buckler,

pushed up against the excess fabric of the cloak still drooping over him in attempt to flip it over onto Kong and give him a taste of his own medicine.

Should the action prove successful, he’d slide the shield on his left arm downward so that the top rim was about at Kong’s mid-chest, chest allowing him to stare Kong in the eyes. That is, if the cloak wasn’t in the way. Now Kong would be able to maneuver his sword, but Dash wouldn’t give him the chance even if he wanted to.

The cornrow’d warrior drew back his right fist/buckler, took aim, and proceeded to pound it repeatedly into Kong’s face.

“FINE!”

-WACK-

“LET’S”

-WHAM-

“PLAY”

-SLAM-

“DIRTY!”

-BAM-

If allowed, Dash would continue to pummel Kong with the buckler until his opponent either passed out, or escaped.

Now THIS is what the crowd wanted to see!

[7]

Now that’s more like it.

Dash quickly regained his balance as the sudden movements of his foe cause him to stagger backwards. Clearly he had underestimated his opponent’s resourcefulness. The prospect of there being warriors actually worth dealing with in this crazy tournament filled the man excitement. The troublesome cloak was cast aside to the ground.

Upon hearing Kong’s comments, a smirk cascaded across Dash’s face. He wasn’t the least bit intimidated or even offended. In fact, Dash was impressed. He’d never say that aloud, though. Instead, he nodded to the Asian standing ever so defiantly across from him on the other side of the ropes.

A quick aversion of his eyes towards the timer informed him that they had little less than a minute remaining.

“And with a minute to spare…” Dash’s said partially to himself and to Kong. “Well my friend, I’ve had my doubts about you when we started, but you’ve given me hope that there may be someone actually worth fighting in this commercialized scrub fest. You were partially correct about there being oceans between our skills. That is, if you were referring to the geographic locations of our training. If you mean actual proficiency, you’re way off. We’re not oceans apart…”

Dash pounded his buckler against the shield he was holding to accentuate his next words.

“We’re galaxies!” Following the clang of metal striking metal, a sudden flash of emerald green energy leapt from the man’s body in what looked like a spark of electricity. The weapons lining the walls behind Dash shuddered slightly as if startled.

“However, this is just a preliminary bout. I don’t plan to expend any more effort on you here. So, for the purposes of this little event…”

Dash suddenly dropped both his shields, allowing them to fall loudly onto the cement.

“I concede. But FIRST, you’ve got to tell me two things. “ONE-"

Dash folds his arms across his chest. He winced slightly as he’d forgotten that Kong decided to play tic-tac-toe all over his chest.

“What do I call you? I think the brochure said something like Khan or Cung. I want to be certain that I can find you once this thing kicks off. And TWO-

Dash paused as if to build drama.

“Where did you get that fly a** hat!? It looked pretty epic on you, so it should look 10 times as good on me!”

No love lost, Dash was not the one to hold grudges.

[8]

Kong.

Dash would definately remember that.

A new rival.

A new hat.

A new scar.

What more could Dash have possibly asked of this round? So he lost, big deal. They weren't competeting yet.

A mixed reaction rose from the crowd. Half of them cheered on the Asian stranger as he took his leave. The other half were pissed off because Dash just forfiet the match. Chances are the latter half just lost some serious cash.

[9 and final - GF man, sorry if I came off as an a**, but that's just how Dash is. I look forward to the rematch.]