Post by David Hunter on Nov 19, 2018 21:22:01 GMT -5
https : / / www.you tube. com / watch ?v= kGGViL wHEUk *1
https : / / www.you tube. com / watch?v= jAZQ0u J3i_M *1
The above videos contents have been translated into a transcript format for the ease of those unwilling to watch or uncaring to participate.
Videos are placed in Part 1 and Part 2 format and should be watched in that order. The first is meant to be a representation of David’s reaction to Holden Ross’ message and the latter is meant to be a representation of David’s reaction to his performance last week.
Neither video is representative of Pure Class Wrestling and is purely the opinions of David Hunter. They have also been used without express permission from the uploaders, creators, or license owners, so they probably won’t be here five years from now. If they are, hey, how’s it goin? It’s gonna be okay, alright?
*1 Due to the format of Pure Class Wrestling’s website, the spaces are present to allow the URL’s to be posted. Please remove the spaces in order to view them.
----------------------------------------------------
A camera fiddles around on a computer. While it shakes, we bear witness to a hotel room. What hotel? Depends who pays me more. Most hotel rooms look the same anyway: large windows overlooking a city, two beds against a wall with a nightstand in the middle, a desk with some more lamps, a table with a TV on it, and not enough outlets for all that you need despite there being more outlets than you’d expect.
Once the camera stops shaking, we see David Hunter. He walks back, sitting on the edge of one of the beds. He isn’t wearing a shirt, but luckily is wearing pants. The sun outside dictates it’s probably still before noon. Time is a weird construct right now so we’ll stick with that for everyone's sake.
“Hey Holden. Sorry I wasn’t able to call you again, apparently the reception here is awful. The internet is fantastic though. Better than anything in our dimension. We’re talkin like 200 up and down. You should come visit sometime. I’m sure you can survive.
I was gonna send you another e-mail but after that last fiasco the company blocked my address, so…we’re going YouTube, I guess. I’ll try to keep it PG so I can make some money off this, but that’s not gonna fuckin happen.
…
…
Shit.
Well, anyway, yes, Holden, hello there sir. Nice to see you again. Once more into the schnell, as they say.”
David looks off camera, supposedly at somebody.
“Do they still say that?”
No voice is heard, but David nods like somebody is responding.
“They never said that. Well, whatever, you get the idea. Here we are, two gladiators about to meet inside that ring once more, and other clichés such as, in order to battle it out until one of us either can’t fight anymore...or dies. Personally, I’d rather not die losing a wrestling match to you, which is nothing against you inherently it’s just if I’m gonna die in a wrestling match I’d rather it be against someone that actually matters like Kyle Shane or James Raven.
Or Dan Fierce.
Or Dark Shadow.
You know, somebody that actually makes a difference and has established a lasting impression on the wrestling world that will allow them to live on forever as a memory?
The kind of dream that all wrestlers hope to strive for?
Do you dream, Holden?
Do you dream, Holden?
I know I do.
I dream quite often.
I dream about my future. I dream about my past. Sometimes I dream about women. There are times where I dream about men, its fine Holden, its 2018, don’t freak out about it.
I dream about my wrestling career and how a few years from now I’ll be the World Champion. About how a few months from now I’ll be holding a championship above my head. About how a few weeks from now I’ll still be the Underground Champ.
And about how a few days from now I’ll be pinning you—again—to keep the crown as King of the Underground.
I understand the thing about dreams. How they’re hard to make a reality. But that’s the best part, Holden! One of my dreams come true on Thursday!
I get to beat you—again—and keep the Underground Title. How do I know that? Quite simply, it comes down to a few things I’ll do the courtesy of breaking down for ya.
First off, as hard-hitting, bone-rattling, concussion-giving, and blood-spilling as you are…you’re not a good wrestler.
I don’t mean that in a bad way. You can suck and still put together a damn good performance to claim you the title. Hell, Muscles Malone held the title for a week, that’s proof right there. But even if you were adequate or mediocre or…honestly, the best wrestler in the world, it wouldn’t change the fact…that you…aren’t.
You can’t do transitions, you can’t do front chanceries, you can’t do hammer or headlocks, you can barely move around in the ring, Holden, let’s face facts, you just suck.
We put on a clinic and a hell of a performance last week, but it’s not because of our wrestling. We just tore each other all over the arena and back, hitting each other with whatever we found. And it worked. And it was amazing. And everybody loved it.
But do you know why I won last week? While you got rid of Muscles, I came out of nowhere and hit you with the Thrill of the Hunt.
And pinned you.
For your championship.
No, that isn’t right. For Muscles’ championship
I’m sorry, that isn’t right either.
For…my…championship.
Which…brings me to my next point…”
-------------------------------------------------------
“Holden…you aren’t the champion. You…haven’t been for two weeks and ever since you lost the title, you...man you’ve been losin it. Not only matches, which you obviously have been, but in a general way. Your mind is distracted with whatever you’re dealing with in your little cult with Seromine and…honestly, I don’t care what kind of shit you guys do. That doesn’t concern me and I hope you walk out of that thing feeling like the God damn Queen of England.
But it’s fuckin with your head.
You’re not all in it for your matches, but not only that, you’ve been constantly pissed off for the last two weeks, that you managed to get caught with weed of all things. And it cost you a hefty fine.
Have I been paying fines? Sure, but it’s always been for issues with people backstage. It never reaches out front to the world. And it’s…it’s fuckin weed man.
Weed!
How ironic that a guy as pissed off as you are smokes weed and still can’t focus enough to win a match.
And I get it, six-ways and three-ways are different than one-on-one. Now I might not be a sex deity, or…unknown forbid, Muscles Malone with the objects he calls women, but I understand it changes the game when more people are involved.
But going off what I’ve seen? Quite frankly Holden—and this is my last point…I’m not expecting to go out there and wrestle. Don’t get me wrong, I’m putting my all into it and will use everything I need to do to pick up the win. Chairs, tables, pipes, sticks, glass, forearms, legs, fists, boots, your mother, a Pop Funko of Mario, a life-sized statue of Weiss Schnee, whatever the hell I need to in order to keep the title where it is.
But I’m not expecting to have to wrestle you for it. Maybe once we’re done with this we can see who the better wrestler is. Because right now…you’re not even close to proving you’re worth the ink you’re signed for.
You can fight. You can win. And you can beat down bodies till the morgue starts getting worried.
But come Thursday…it won’t be the hunter who gets hunted. It’ll be the prey…with its head mounted above my throne.
So if you really think you’re worthy of this crown once more? Than I’m gonna need to see something that proves you’re worth a damn.
And not something that just says you’re a waste of time.”
David walks up to the camera, turning it off.
------------------------------------------------
A black car rolls up to the Pure Class Arena. It’s slowly approaching sunset and it looks like the clouds are still around.
The driver’s door opens and a man in a grey suit walks out. He’s got a black mask on that covers his face. He steps to the opposite side backdoor, opening it up in rough fashion. David Hunter steps out, handcuffed and yawning. Once the yawn subsides, the Skull Mask Man unlocks David’s cuffs. The man does a few movements with his hands and arms while David massages his wrists.
Once the man is done, David nods.
“Yeah I got it. Two weeks left to chill at home until I get questions from everybody. Appreciate the ride,” he says.
The Skull Mask Man nods, offering a hand. David agrees and the two shake hands. The Man lets go, walking back to his door. Once he is in and the door is closed, the car drives off and away.
David is left alone. He stretches his arms out, cracking his joints and back. He lets the appendages fall with a pretty big sigh.
He cracks his neck and wrists before speaking.
“What the hell do you want and why the hell are you here?” he asks.
Behind David, a woman with long black hair with red tips on the ends and a long black robe appears behind a corner. She leans against it, unbothered by her bare feet against the hard concrete. On her face is a seductive smirk as she leans forward, her arms up and chest out, her back against the wall.
David turns around, noticing this. He shakes his head and looks away.
“I didn’t know you went commando,” he says.
“What can I say? I go all in when I need to…or want someone to,” the woman says.
David looks down, coughing into his hand to avoid the awkwardness of it.
“Please answer my questions so I can go on forgetting you exist,” he says.
The woman’s smirk widens. She walks up towards David, her hips flying back and forth and her arms folded in front of her to enlighten certain features.
“Oh David…you don’t think of me anymore? What about all those times we spent together? By each other’s sides? Close? Intimate?” she asks.
Once again, David coughs, looking away at anywhere but in front of him.
“They were certainly times,” he says.
The woman puts on a pout.
David does not look down.
She continues.
No dice, Andrew.
The woman scowls, dropping her arms in a huff.
Not even a glance.
“Fine,” she says.
David releases a sigh, cracking his neck a bit.
“I’m here because I wanted to talk to you. And I’m here because I quite recently became part of a group of individuals who are looking to get into some...real estate...with a healthy dosage of revenge,” the woman says.
David groans. He starts to rub his face, a headache no doubt starting to form.
“This wouldn’t happen to be the same group Mercury’s apart of, would it?” he asks, his face in his hands.
“You mean Mr. Black? Such a strapping young lad—”
“No,” David says.
“What?” the woman asks, briefly dropping the act.
“You used a ‘No’ word. Don’t even think about it. Mercury’s a good guy. Perpetual bad guy with a taste for survival, but I like him. So. No,” David says.
“What word of that sentence—”
“Strapping. Nobody says that unless it’s meant to be weird. It’s you, so I’m chalking it up as a ‘No’ word.”
“When did I ever—”
“Four years ago, not long after that job in China. You wanted help with a Wu so you offered me a job. You managed to somehow have no money or Wu that you could barter with considering your...master...boy toy...dragon...thing made me lose, so what was left? Don’t answer that, we both know the answer. You called me that when we met up and, like a dumbass, I said yes,” David says.
“Stop that,” the woman says, putting on an actual pout this time.
David shrugs. He starts to walk past the woman towards the arena itself.
The woman rushes past him, quicker than he remembers. She positions herself in front of him. David lets out another sigh.
“Have I really been that cruel to you? Name one time,” she says.
“It starts at 14 and just kinda avalanches from there,” David says.
“Can you really say you didn’t enjoy any of them? At all?” she asks.
“Does that matter? I was 14! I’m pretty sure in…any dimension…any reality…any world…most countries, oddly enough, 14 is definitely not the age of consent.”
“Consent is a spur of the moment thing, hardly necessary.”
“Consent is completely necessary!”
The woman sticks her tongue in a gagging gesture, accompanied by the appropriate noise. She soon resets herself.
“You see, this is why you never made a good villain. You have too many morals, not enough evil to keep you from following them,” she says.
“Great. Ostracized and criticized by a millennium plus aged witch who’s not even taken seriously in her own dimension. If I want advice on puzzle boxes, I’ll keep in touch,” David says.
He nudges past and begins to walk away. A right hand grips his left shoulder, stopping him. She grips tighter, a green flame beginning to form. David groans, but otherwise doesn’t move.
“As fun as it was fucking and fucking with you, do not forget what I’ve done for you,” the woman says, a ghostly hiss finding its way into her voice. “Do not forget all the bad stuff you’ve done. All the bad things I’ve made people forget. All the things nobody but us will ever know. I may not ever have my powers back, but I’ll be dammed if I let a shit who I’ve known for 9 insignificant years talk down to me.”
David cracks his neck before turning to look at her.
“You’re in public. Wouldn’t want any more attention now, would you?” David asks.
He uses his eyes to direct her to the right. The woman glances over and spots a black bird, resting on a nearby light post
The woman growls—yes, growls—before letting the fire disappear and freeing David’s shoulder. He rolls it around a bit before letting it rest.
“If that will be all, I’d rather not hear any more about this Big Bad Group everyone’s talking about. So excuse me, but I have to take a dump,” he says.
As he begins to walk away, the woman sighs once more.
“I know how you can find where she is,” she says.
David stops.
What?
Rewind.
David turns his head.
“Gonna have to hear that one again,” he says.
A small, unconfident smirk adorns the woman’s face.
“Oh, now you’re interested?” she asks.
“Wuya. You better not be fuckin with me here,” David says.
He turns around, facing the woman—Wuya—head on.
Wuya shakes her head, gesturing with her right hand.
“There’s a Wu that’s been revealed in this dimension. Dashi called it the Crow’s Eyes. I know, fitting considering our company,” she says.
“I don’t know why he’s here either. Keep talkin,” David says.
“Its powers are limited to one person and a wide range, but it’s able to track whoever its user wants. You can imagine why Dashi felt the need to hide it here. Imagine if I had that. Would definitely make things easier,” Wuya says.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it, you suck at killing kids. Where is it?” David asks.
Wuya laughs a soft, seductive laugh.
“Oh David…please, do you really think I was just going to—”
Before she can finish, David fires a pistol. Just as quickly, Wuya’s head moves to the right. The bullet flies past her. The smirk on her face disappears just as fast.
“Alright, fine. I’ll tell you were it is if you keep the bird brain off my back,” she says.
“Deal. Meet me at my apartment. You probably know where it is. You're weird like that. I’ll deal with whatever shit from the gunshot,” David says.
“And…?” Wuya inquires, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, and our guest,” he says. “Hiya Qrow!”
David waves behind Wuya using the hand with the gun. A man with graying hair and ruffled clothing now stands behind Wuya, leaning against the wall. He has a large metal…thing strapped to his back.
“Hey ya kiddo. Wuya,” the man—Qrow—says.
“Qrow. I’ll meet you there, Davey,” Wuya says.
David visibly shudders, letting out a vibrating groan. A green flame appears around Wuya, engulfing her body. When it disappears, so has Wuya, with not even a bit of ash remaining.
David and Qrow have a stare down, neither saying anything.
Eventually, both of them release a sigh.
“Let’s go get some Five Guy’s,” Qrow says.
“I can explain most of what just went down, but legally, I don’t have to say shit,” David says.
He puts his gun back in his pocket, walking up towards Qrow. When they meet, they begin walking away from the arena.
“I’ll just take what I can and we can go from there,” Qrow says.
Before they get to the street, David suddenly stops and turns around.
“I do actually have to take that dump, so hold up,” he says.
He starts to hobble away in a weird display like a majestic goose on acid.
https : / / www.you tube. com / watch?v= jAZQ0u J3i_M *1
The above videos contents have been translated into a transcript format for the ease of those unwilling to watch or uncaring to participate.
Videos are placed in Part 1 and Part 2 format and should be watched in that order. The first is meant to be a representation of David’s reaction to Holden Ross’ message and the latter is meant to be a representation of David’s reaction to his performance last week.
Neither video is representative of Pure Class Wrestling and is purely the opinions of David Hunter. They have also been used without express permission from the uploaders, creators, or license owners, so they probably won’t be here five years from now. If they are, hey, how’s it goin? It’s gonna be okay, alright?
*1 Due to the format of Pure Class Wrestling’s website, the spaces are present to allow the URL’s to be posted. Please remove the spaces in order to view them.
----------------------------------------------------
A camera fiddles around on a computer. While it shakes, we bear witness to a hotel room. What hotel? Depends who pays me more. Most hotel rooms look the same anyway: large windows overlooking a city, two beds against a wall with a nightstand in the middle, a desk with some more lamps, a table with a TV on it, and not enough outlets for all that you need despite there being more outlets than you’d expect.
Once the camera stops shaking, we see David Hunter. He walks back, sitting on the edge of one of the beds. He isn’t wearing a shirt, but luckily is wearing pants. The sun outside dictates it’s probably still before noon. Time is a weird construct right now so we’ll stick with that for everyone's sake.
“Hey Holden. Sorry I wasn’t able to call you again, apparently the reception here is awful. The internet is fantastic though. Better than anything in our dimension. We’re talkin like 200 up and down. You should come visit sometime. I’m sure you can survive.
I was gonna send you another e-mail but after that last fiasco the company blocked my address, so…we’re going YouTube, I guess. I’ll try to keep it PG so I can make some money off this, but that’s not gonna fuckin happen.
…
…
Shit.
Well, anyway, yes, Holden, hello there sir. Nice to see you again. Once more into the schnell, as they say.”
David looks off camera, supposedly at somebody.
“Do they still say that?”
No voice is heard, but David nods like somebody is responding.
“They never said that. Well, whatever, you get the idea. Here we are, two gladiators about to meet inside that ring once more, and other clichés such as, in order to battle it out until one of us either can’t fight anymore...or dies. Personally, I’d rather not die losing a wrestling match to you, which is nothing against you inherently it’s just if I’m gonna die in a wrestling match I’d rather it be against someone that actually matters like Kyle Shane or James Raven.
Or Dan Fierce.
Or Dark Shadow.
You know, somebody that actually makes a difference and has established a lasting impression on the wrestling world that will allow them to live on forever as a memory?
The kind of dream that all wrestlers hope to strive for?
Do you dream, Holden?
Do you dream, Holden?
I know I do.
I dream quite often.
I dream about my future. I dream about my past. Sometimes I dream about women. There are times where I dream about men, its fine Holden, its 2018, don’t freak out about it.
I dream about my wrestling career and how a few years from now I’ll be the World Champion. About how a few months from now I’ll be holding a championship above my head. About how a few weeks from now I’ll still be the Underground Champ.
And about how a few days from now I’ll be pinning you—again—to keep the crown as King of the Underground.
I understand the thing about dreams. How they’re hard to make a reality. But that’s the best part, Holden! One of my dreams come true on Thursday!
I get to beat you—again—and keep the Underground Title. How do I know that? Quite simply, it comes down to a few things I’ll do the courtesy of breaking down for ya.
First off, as hard-hitting, bone-rattling, concussion-giving, and blood-spilling as you are…you’re not a good wrestler.
I don’t mean that in a bad way. You can suck and still put together a damn good performance to claim you the title. Hell, Muscles Malone held the title for a week, that’s proof right there. But even if you were adequate or mediocre or…honestly, the best wrestler in the world, it wouldn’t change the fact…that you…aren’t.
You can’t do transitions, you can’t do front chanceries, you can’t do hammer or headlocks, you can barely move around in the ring, Holden, let’s face facts, you just suck.
We put on a clinic and a hell of a performance last week, but it’s not because of our wrestling. We just tore each other all over the arena and back, hitting each other with whatever we found. And it worked. And it was amazing. And everybody loved it.
But do you know why I won last week? While you got rid of Muscles, I came out of nowhere and hit you with the Thrill of the Hunt.
And pinned you.
For your championship.
No, that isn’t right. For Muscles’ championship
I’m sorry, that isn’t right either.
For…my…championship.
Which…brings me to my next point…”
-------------------------------------------------------
“Holden…you aren’t the champion. You…haven’t been for two weeks and ever since you lost the title, you...man you’ve been losin it. Not only matches, which you obviously have been, but in a general way. Your mind is distracted with whatever you’re dealing with in your little cult with Seromine and…honestly, I don’t care what kind of shit you guys do. That doesn’t concern me and I hope you walk out of that thing feeling like the God damn Queen of England.
But it’s fuckin with your head.
You’re not all in it for your matches, but not only that, you’ve been constantly pissed off for the last two weeks, that you managed to get caught with weed of all things. And it cost you a hefty fine.
Have I been paying fines? Sure, but it’s always been for issues with people backstage. It never reaches out front to the world. And it’s…it’s fuckin weed man.
Weed!
How ironic that a guy as pissed off as you are smokes weed and still can’t focus enough to win a match.
And I get it, six-ways and three-ways are different than one-on-one. Now I might not be a sex deity, or…unknown forbid, Muscles Malone with the objects he calls women, but I understand it changes the game when more people are involved.
But going off what I’ve seen? Quite frankly Holden—and this is my last point…I’m not expecting to go out there and wrestle. Don’t get me wrong, I’m putting my all into it and will use everything I need to do to pick up the win. Chairs, tables, pipes, sticks, glass, forearms, legs, fists, boots, your mother, a Pop Funko of Mario, a life-sized statue of Weiss Schnee, whatever the hell I need to in order to keep the title where it is.
But I’m not expecting to have to wrestle you for it. Maybe once we’re done with this we can see who the better wrestler is. Because right now…you’re not even close to proving you’re worth the ink you’re signed for.
You can fight. You can win. And you can beat down bodies till the morgue starts getting worried.
But come Thursday…it won’t be the hunter who gets hunted. It’ll be the prey…with its head mounted above my throne.
So if you really think you’re worthy of this crown once more? Than I’m gonna need to see something that proves you’re worth a damn.
And not something that just says you’re a waste of time.”
David walks up to the camera, turning it off.
------------------------------------------------
A black car rolls up to the Pure Class Arena. It’s slowly approaching sunset and it looks like the clouds are still around.
The driver’s door opens and a man in a grey suit walks out. He’s got a black mask on that covers his face. He steps to the opposite side backdoor, opening it up in rough fashion. David Hunter steps out, handcuffed and yawning. Once the yawn subsides, the Skull Mask Man unlocks David’s cuffs. The man does a few movements with his hands and arms while David massages his wrists.
Once the man is done, David nods.
“Yeah I got it. Two weeks left to chill at home until I get questions from everybody. Appreciate the ride,” he says.
The Skull Mask Man nods, offering a hand. David agrees and the two shake hands. The Man lets go, walking back to his door. Once he is in and the door is closed, the car drives off and away.
David is left alone. He stretches his arms out, cracking his joints and back. He lets the appendages fall with a pretty big sigh.
He cracks his neck and wrists before speaking.
“What the hell do you want and why the hell are you here?” he asks.
Behind David, a woman with long black hair with red tips on the ends and a long black robe appears behind a corner. She leans against it, unbothered by her bare feet against the hard concrete. On her face is a seductive smirk as she leans forward, her arms up and chest out, her back against the wall.
David turns around, noticing this. He shakes his head and looks away.
“I didn’t know you went commando,” he says.
“What can I say? I go all in when I need to…or want someone to,” the woman says.
David looks down, coughing into his hand to avoid the awkwardness of it.
“Please answer my questions so I can go on forgetting you exist,” he says.
The woman’s smirk widens. She walks up towards David, her hips flying back and forth and her arms folded in front of her to enlighten certain features.
“Oh David…you don’t think of me anymore? What about all those times we spent together? By each other’s sides? Close? Intimate?” she asks.
Once again, David coughs, looking away at anywhere but in front of him.
“They were certainly times,” he says.
The woman puts on a pout.
David does not look down.
She continues.
No dice, Andrew.
The woman scowls, dropping her arms in a huff.
Not even a glance.
“Fine,” she says.
David releases a sigh, cracking his neck a bit.
“I’m here because I wanted to talk to you. And I’m here because I quite recently became part of a group of individuals who are looking to get into some...real estate...with a healthy dosage of revenge,” the woman says.
David groans. He starts to rub his face, a headache no doubt starting to form.
“This wouldn’t happen to be the same group Mercury’s apart of, would it?” he asks, his face in his hands.
“You mean Mr. Black? Such a strapping young lad—”
“No,” David says.
“What?” the woman asks, briefly dropping the act.
“You used a ‘No’ word. Don’t even think about it. Mercury’s a good guy. Perpetual bad guy with a taste for survival, but I like him. So. No,” David says.
“What word of that sentence—”
“Strapping. Nobody says that unless it’s meant to be weird. It’s you, so I’m chalking it up as a ‘No’ word.”
“When did I ever—”
“Four years ago, not long after that job in China. You wanted help with a Wu so you offered me a job. You managed to somehow have no money or Wu that you could barter with considering your...master...boy toy...dragon...thing made me lose, so what was left? Don’t answer that, we both know the answer. You called me that when we met up and, like a dumbass, I said yes,” David says.
“Stop that,” the woman says, putting on an actual pout this time.
David shrugs. He starts to walk past the woman towards the arena itself.
The woman rushes past him, quicker than he remembers. She positions herself in front of him. David lets out another sigh.
“Have I really been that cruel to you? Name one time,” she says.
“It starts at 14 and just kinda avalanches from there,” David says.
“Can you really say you didn’t enjoy any of them? At all?” she asks.
“Does that matter? I was 14! I’m pretty sure in…any dimension…any reality…any world…most countries, oddly enough, 14 is definitely not the age of consent.”
“Consent is a spur of the moment thing, hardly necessary.”
“Consent is completely necessary!”
The woman sticks her tongue in a gagging gesture, accompanied by the appropriate noise. She soon resets herself.
“You see, this is why you never made a good villain. You have too many morals, not enough evil to keep you from following them,” she says.
“Great. Ostracized and criticized by a millennium plus aged witch who’s not even taken seriously in her own dimension. If I want advice on puzzle boxes, I’ll keep in touch,” David says.
He nudges past and begins to walk away. A right hand grips his left shoulder, stopping him. She grips tighter, a green flame beginning to form. David groans, but otherwise doesn’t move.
“As fun as it was fucking and fucking with you, do not forget what I’ve done for you,” the woman says, a ghostly hiss finding its way into her voice. “Do not forget all the bad stuff you’ve done. All the bad things I’ve made people forget. All the things nobody but us will ever know. I may not ever have my powers back, but I’ll be dammed if I let a shit who I’ve known for 9 insignificant years talk down to me.”
David cracks his neck before turning to look at her.
“You’re in public. Wouldn’t want any more attention now, would you?” David asks.
He uses his eyes to direct her to the right. The woman glances over and spots a black bird, resting on a nearby light post
The woman growls—yes, growls—before letting the fire disappear and freeing David’s shoulder. He rolls it around a bit before letting it rest.
“If that will be all, I’d rather not hear any more about this Big Bad Group everyone’s talking about. So excuse me, but I have to take a dump,” he says.
As he begins to walk away, the woman sighs once more.
“I know how you can find where she is,” she says.
David stops.
What?
Rewind.
David turns his head.
“Gonna have to hear that one again,” he says.
A small, unconfident smirk adorns the woman’s face.
“Oh, now you’re interested?” she asks.
“Wuya. You better not be fuckin with me here,” David says.
He turns around, facing the woman—Wuya—head on.
Wuya shakes her head, gesturing with her right hand.
“There’s a Wu that’s been revealed in this dimension. Dashi called it the Crow’s Eyes. I know, fitting considering our company,” she says.
“I don’t know why he’s here either. Keep talkin,” David says.
“Its powers are limited to one person and a wide range, but it’s able to track whoever its user wants. You can imagine why Dashi felt the need to hide it here. Imagine if I had that. Would definitely make things easier,” Wuya says.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it, you suck at killing kids. Where is it?” David asks.
Wuya laughs a soft, seductive laugh.
“Oh David…please, do you really think I was just going to—”
Before she can finish, David fires a pistol. Just as quickly, Wuya’s head moves to the right. The bullet flies past her. The smirk on her face disappears just as fast.
“Alright, fine. I’ll tell you were it is if you keep the bird brain off my back,” she says.
“Deal. Meet me at my apartment. You probably know where it is. You're weird like that. I’ll deal with whatever shit from the gunshot,” David says.
“And…?” Wuya inquires, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, and our guest,” he says. “Hiya Qrow!”
David waves behind Wuya using the hand with the gun. A man with graying hair and ruffled clothing now stands behind Wuya, leaning against the wall. He has a large metal…thing strapped to his back.
“Hey ya kiddo. Wuya,” the man—Qrow—says.
“Qrow. I’ll meet you there, Davey,” Wuya says.
David visibly shudders, letting out a vibrating groan. A green flame appears around Wuya, engulfing her body. When it disappears, so has Wuya, with not even a bit of ash remaining.
David and Qrow have a stare down, neither saying anything.
Eventually, both of them release a sigh.
“Let’s go get some Five Guy’s,” Qrow says.
“I can explain most of what just went down, but legally, I don’t have to say shit,” David says.
He puts his gun back in his pocket, walking up towards Qrow. When they meet, they begin walking away from the arena.
“I’ll just take what I can and we can go from there,” Qrow says.
Before they get to the street, David suddenly stops and turns around.
“I do actually have to take that dump, so hold up,” he says.
He starts to hobble away in a weird display like a majestic goose on acid.
