Monday, 5 November 2012

Spider Jerusalem vs Raoul Duke

This week's FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! written by John Steele.
 
Two enter our arena, but only one may leave. 

Together they will perform that most primal of dances.

The jerking and twisting of tangled meat marionettes at the hands of a fickle and capricious god, acting out their parts until one of them is definitively bereft and ruined, until they are nothing but dying embers in a finite universe where night is always approaching.

Despite all civilisation’s trappings, despite its facades, just below the surface we hunger for conflict, we lust for life, and violence is life.

Also, violence is mint. Despite claims to the contrary, it does solve some things.

All it takes is the slightest push for an otherwise mild mannered peon to plunge peril-ward into a red-haze of death and destruction. 

All it takes is for the powers that be to look the other way or irk us in just the wrong manner and we will cut-loose our civility and go proper biblical and whichever poor fucker happens to be in the way. 

Proper Hobbesian shit, yeah?

We all want the prove ourselves. We all want to hear our blood sing as we cave in the skulls our enemies. Something up tempo. Maybe Move your Feet by Junior Senior. 

I digress. 

The point remains: fighting is in our blood. The only way to release it is to drain someone entirely of theirs, preferably by flipping great wodges of FIGHTING.

As a wise man once said:
“Give a man a fish and he’ll weaponize it and kill his neighbour”.

WHO THEY THEN?



    • Spider Jerusalem: A brilliant political columnist and author who just happens to also be a violent, sarcastic, tattooed misanthrope. Spider has a deep and abiding hatred for anyone who isn’t him, especially if that person has even the faintest whiff of authority about them. He’s a resident of “The City” a grim, dystopian metropolis of the far, far future where capitalism and consumerism have run amok. His progress can be charted in the comics and books labelled Transmetropolitan by Warren Ellis and Darick Robertson.

  • Both of these men shoot-up and chug pills like they’re participating in a flat-out race of self-destruction; a race where there are no prizes and no rules, and where the only finishing line is death itself.

    Sounds spine-shankingly brilliant doesn't it?

  THEY PACKING MUCH HEAT?


Jerusalem’s weapon of choice is “The bowel disruptor” an illegal firearm which makes people shite themselves. It has such delightful settings as “Unspeakable gut horror", "Burning anal geyser" and "Fatal intestinal maelstrom".

Duke periodically takes possession of a .357 magnum and has access to enough drugs to kill not just one elephant, but all elephants

A straight tie ensues.

THEIR BACK: WHO HAS IT?

Spider has his filthy assistants: Channon Yarrow, a towering bodyguard with a disturbing knowledge of weaponry and Yelena Rossini, a diminutive PA who personifies the phrase “poison comes in small bottles”. Both are more or less utterly devoid of conventional morals. In addition to this he has his scheming and devious editor Mitchell Royce and a chain smoking cat with two faces which is capable of killing most animals twice its size. Also, if one foreword is to be believed, Patrick Stewart has his back, thus giving Spider one of the most powerful telepaths in human history and the grumpiest Captain of the Starship Enterprise.

Raoul Duke has Dr Gonzo, the 300 pound Samoan; lawyer and fellow consumer of “the drugs.” He is described by Duke as “One of god’s own prototypes; a high powered mutant of some kind never even considered for mass production; too weird to live and too rare to die.” Dr Gonzo has a destructive and belligerent streak of violence running through his core. A force, which if properly focused is capable of unimaginable carnage. Luckily for everyone else, he and his mind are only passing acquaintainces.

Spider wins.


NUANCES AND WHATNOT


Spider is a very angry man.

The insights he offers about the world play to the lowest common denominator (hello, by the way). They are brutal and unforgiving, just like the truth, and he’s going to tell it regardless of whether you like it or not. If needs must he will bludgeon them into your skull with a chair leg. Despite his many and varied failings Spider will stop at nothing to get to the truth and expose the establishment for what it is.

Duke is seemingly capable of avoiding all the consequences of his actions, be it theft, property damage, speeding or skipping out on a hotel bill larger than a third world nation’s GDP. He always gets away scot-free. Perhaps Duke’s most spectacular talent is that he is a force of entropy. Any room or vehicle inhabited or used by Duke can be utterly and incontrovertibly trashed in a matter of hours simply through his presence. Despite his failings as a human-being Duke is something of a mystic, stoner poet, whose drug addled musings contain deep and terrifying insights into the truth of things and the ways of the world. Truths we all knew but never had the courage or talent to articulate into words. At heart he is a philosopher.

Both are almost always found wearing shades and smoking. TV and Hollywood lead me to believe that this denotes “cool.” I am inclined to believe them.

Duke wins, as he is arguably more sophisticated.

IT'S CLOBBERING TIME


This is the point where we run all the above information through our highly sophisticated computer program to establish the victor. Computers will one day become the dominant species on this planet, as exemplified by Gary Kasparov's awkward sexual liason with the Deep Blue computer after it had defeated him at chess.

 Deep Blue never returned his calls.

 Of course, this was pre-broadband, so the line might just have been busy.

 But you try telling that to Gary Kasparov.


Spider kicks the door of Duke’s hotel suite clean off its hinges and comes barrelling through the shattered doorframe like the wrath of syphilitic volcano deity on PCP. Shots from the bowel disruptor come thick and fast as Duke dances about the room, leaping and diving like a lemur on speed. A nearby amphetamine-fuelled lemur is not so lucky.

Grabbing a nearby fly swatter Duke flails ineffectually at the irate Jerusalem. Spider retaliates with a hard kick aimed at the knees, Duke darts under the table then hides behind the curtain quietly gibbering. Lunging at the curtain the two combatants fall to the floor in a tangle of limbs and hideous brown-orange nylon. Breathless, the two realise there is very little reason for them to be fighting, especially in a room so plentifully stocked with alcohol and narcotics. What began as a fight to the death quickly descends into a hedonistic bender or truly epic proportions, a bender which skalds will tell tales of for centuries to come.

Duke is found dead in a ditch three days later having drowned in a shallow pool of his own devising: his eyes have exploded and most of his brain matter has dribbled out of his ears. Spider is not seen for another 2 weeks until he surfaces on a shrimp trawler in the Caspian Sea. Devoid of clothing he has nothing in his possession save a badly forged Lebanese passport and the business card for a tax account in Krakow; he has no memory of any of the events which preceded this.

Experts and commentators attribute Jerusalem’s survival to his fancy, enhanced future biology. Some have even gone as far to say that this is almost, but not quite, like cheating, or that Spider Jerusalem may be a descendant of Jesus. An inquest into the result is expected to be launched in the near future.

AND THE WINNER IS...


Spider Jerusalem


By default.


FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! will return, featuring:


SOMEONE vs SOMEONE ELSE
because massive internal hemorrhaging 
is the new olympics

If you have any suggestions for who you'd like to see square go each other in future FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! articles, please mention them below.

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