Tournament - Jack Burton vs. Jareth (The Goblin King)

[Hugo Fowl]

The quickest way to know a place, was to know its dreams. This place however was strange in the sense that it reminded him most of a patchwork man, in the sense that it seemed to be everything and nothing all at once.

People believe, thought the Priest as he strode through the crowd. It's what people do after all. They believe, and then they do not take responsibility for their beliefs; they conjure things twisted and strange, and do not trust what emerged from the depths of their mind. For centuries, they would populate the darkness; with ghosts, with gods, with fossil and radio waves, with tales. People imagine, and people believe; and it is that rock solid belief, that makes things happen. And they had believed in many things to make New York City what it was now.

People believed you could find anything in New York City and so you did.  Torri gates that led to Nowhere, sanctums of power bearing symbols from every part of the Nevernever. There was an alleyway reputed to hold a homeless soldier of Hell drifting among the urban mythos of concrete and steel, one among many. Among hot dog vendors they spoke of gods who drifted from the skies, men of iron and men out of time.  And between the lines, the Priest saw the stories that had furrowed their path and kept them going as stories do.

He saw it in every lightning storm on Wednesday in honor of a father, in the totems of the beasts on every cover of the Daily Bugle when Spider clashed with Scorpion, Rhino, Vulture or Octopus. He felt it in the echoes of the Dark Dimension, when scorched tire marks burned the streets and evil was quelled. He saw it constantly, in the rituals and traditions saved by generations of folk who had fled their lands and brought their stories with them. Aswang and     Aos Sí, Gods of long dead civilizations, now driving Taxis and trying to get on by.

It was a jungle with laws he did not understand, far from those who knew of him and his traditions.  But there was always a need for a Priest.

No matter what situation he found himself in.

----------

2007

"Thank ye lass for taking the time to see me."

The figure across from him in the diner looked mildly nonplussed. She was pretty-beautiful even, though the years had shown their mark upon her. Clad in a suit dress as a secretary or office worker might favor, her hair would be tied back in a simple ponytail with her only concession to decoration being a scrunchy and some light makeup. Well, that was not entirely correct.

On her lapel of the collared shirt was an odd symbol. Of a full, grey coloration and representing a branch of some sort. Not exactly something that tied into her look but it led him to believe he was on the right path. Her voice was lightly skeptical as she eyed him.

"I'm sorry. But why exactly does the Catholic Church want to know about my uncle again?"

The priest smiled briefly, giving an inclination of his head as he spoke with the touch of a brogue. "Tha' would be Jack Burton, yes? Fer the record of course. And you are Sarah Williams-author of the Labyrinth. I have orphans who adore yer work. When this is over, would ye be so kind as t'autograph it for em? Would give em a kick t'them to know I met THE Sarah Williams."

She smiled despite herself, nodding before the priest continued with glee, one white gloved hand pushing his glasses up along the bridge of his nose before he switched on the tape recorder.

"Now Miss Williams. I represent a particularly branch of our Lord. One interested in t'events mentioned in yer book. Or at least, what came after." She paused and eyed him, obviously considering before she spoke.

"Father, it's just a story. Fiction. There's no such thing as goblins or the like." His grin grew wider as he nodded to her collar.

"I'd be more inclined t'believe if it weren't for tha'. Rowan twig, encased in iron. Got a 'Fair' problem, Miss Williams?" She looked startled now and the priest said more kindly.

"Not gonna hurt ye lass. I'm full human me. An' I'm not gonna hurt Burton either. Fact is-mans got a lot done, albeit by accident an' the luck and grace of God. I'm just collecting t'stories in between. The ones passed over, overlooked and fell through the cracks. Not just him either I can tell ye."

She pondered this for a moment and then asked the question he knew she would.

"Why? Why would you want to know?" The priest grinned again.

"'Cause a story ain't truly one till it's been shared. So how about it?"

For a moment he'd thought he lost her and felt a twinge of regret as she looked at the door. Then she turned back to him and nodded and he laughed with glee.

"Good on ye lass! So! Jack Burton...?"

----------

1988

Sarah's world was shattered.

Before her, the application to Julliard laid where it was, starkly taunting her with it's rejection. The worse of it was how nice they had tried to be, saying she wasn't what they were looking for. Why? Her mother was an actress....She was an actress, had long since fallen in love with the stage and the magic inherent upon it. To tear that away, what made her happiest made her sick and hot. Her stomach flopped, she wanted to vomit as tears fell and would not stop.

Her dreams were ashes now and nothing would save them. 

So lost was she in her despair, that she didn't hear the door open. Nor the calls until strong arms wrapped firmly around her, a scent of beer and sweat-normally sickening but comforting in this context wrapped around her as a voice all but snarled above.

"Alright, who did it and how painful are we making it?" She hiccuped with laughter, despite herself before crying again and Jack Burton hugged her tighter.

He was a black sheep of the family. A truck driver, transporting all sorts of things across the states and always with a wild story he would share with her. He wasn't the best of storytellers, but his earnest manner and sincere nature always made her feel they were all true. Like he was telling her a secret story of how the world was, known between them alone. She had forgot he was coming over and she shook her head.

"It's not a boy Uncle Jack. It's my application to Julliard." She pointed to the letter, her tears a bit more exhausted as her uncle plucked it up and squinted. A few moments later, he howled in outrage.

"Rejected?! Those hacks! Listen baby to ol' Uncle Jack, the paper they spend to print their acceptance ain't worth a candle in a light bulb factory. You think Shakespeare graduated from Julliard? No! He went out, he forged his way and damned to the man who tells him stop! And that's what you do babe, you forget these losers and move on forward. One step at a time, into the face of that storm!"

She sniffed and then her arms moved to hug him back. He stroked her hair, did his best to comfort her as she said quietly. "I know Uncle. But it was my dream. And it just hurts so much. Sometimes I just wish it would all go away. No more dreams, no more hurt."

Jack smiled kindly as he looked down at her. "You stop hurting, you stop living kid. That's life. Sure it hurts now, I won't lie about that. And maybe you feel like that hole in your heart is gaping wide but you don't get rid of em. You fix them!" He waved the letter with one hand, gesturing as he spoke.

"If this school doesn't accept you, you build up and shore up what they think you don't have. You don't drive trucks without gas or spark plugs, you gotta make sure all of it is one machine in unity! Then you can go anywhere. You'll get in." And then he ruined it as he said happily.

"And if not? I'll just drive my truck down there and challenge the dean to good ol'fashioned fisticuffs. Mano-a-mano as God made men." It worked. Sarah began to laugh, burying her face into his shoulder as she spoke. "Thank you Uncle Jack."

He grinned broadly, an easy expression that was often on his face. "What else are uncle's for? Now where's your kid brother?"

-------

2007

"He sounds like a good man."

Sarah nodded, coffee in hand as she nursed it and smiled wistfully.

"He was. He was never eloquent or anything like that. He was downright rough in fact. But he was honest in everything he did and if he expressed anything,he was always sincere about it. But I didn't know just how much his drive for us was until later that night."

------

1988

Jack Burton snoozed on the couch. No beer, which was regrettable but with kids in the house he didn't want to leave any temptation yet. Last thing he needed was his brother getting all pissy because Toby vomited all over the floor. Still, he was worried more for his niece. 

She was a deeply sensitive soul which made sense for her choice of careers, but she felt far too keenly and shone too brightly for certain powers. One of which was about to enter...Now.

Jack's eyes flew open on the couch.

His hand went for his knife, his entire attitude on alert. He was not a smart man, Jack Burton and he would be first to admit it. But he made up for it with instincts honed from a lifetime on the road and among the weirdness of the world.

And right now, all of them were doing the equivalent of standing on a chair and screaming aloud, Jack rushing up the stairs and to his nieces room. There before him, the figure of a man he only vaguely knew was in the process of removing a crystal orb from Sarah's sleeping head and Jack saw red.

"Get away from my niece, David Bowie!"

He slashed out and the figure swiftly skipped back, an actual cape swirling about him and Jack took full advantage of it, yanking him off his feet as he smashed the handle of his knife on the skull of the man. There was a sound like a burning brand, a pained scream and then a look of sheer hatred that had Jack actually step back though keeping himself between the intruder and Sarah who miraculously, had not even stirred.

Now that Jack could take a better look as well, he realized it wasn't actually David Bowie. He was dressed far too conservative for one. The only thing off putting was the burn mark on his forehead, as in an elegant tone he hissed.

"Iron?! You DARE to wield the Bane against ME?!"

Jack snorted. "Honey, I'll do a lot more than that. When a man comes a-creeping into his nieces room, there's a god-given duty for all Men to do their utmost best to ventilate them. Now hold still so I could do it again."

"I was INVITED!" The other snapped and Jack squinted, pausing momentarily before he spoke.

"You got ten seconds to give me the cliff notes version, and make it snappy."

The other man sniffed and adjusted his collar as he spoke regally.

"I am Jareth. Goblin King and I had been accepted and called by my sweet Sarah Williams. She wished for the dreams to go away and stop hurting." He held up the crystal sphere, bouncing it back and forth along his hand. "I would do anything for her and so I fulfilled her request. She no longer will feel pain nor heartache from that which she no longer has."

Jack was horrified and then outraged. "You took away her dreams?! Buddy, forget ventilating you! I'm gonna chop you up into so many pieces and then call in a favor to ship you to the Hell of being Whacked on the Head while being insulted!" Jareth looked puzzled and Jack shrugged.

"The Chinese have a lot of Hells. But never mind that! You can't take away her dreams! That's what she is! She loses that, she'll lose everything that made her Sarah! Now put it back!"

Jareth scowled. "I refuse."

"Then buddy? You and me are gonna have a problem." 

Jareth laughed with scorn and mockery. "You? What can you do? You're just a little ape out of his cage, unknowing of how the world runs." He turned and made a gesture.

The air ripped before him and revealed a strange world, a glimpse of a vast maze of some kind glimpsed as Jareth strode through. Jack scowled and looked to Sarah.

"Don't worry babe. Uncle Jacks got a jockstrap to stuff down an assholes throat! Get back here!"

And on instinct, as the portal was closing...Jack Burton ran for it and leaped through. The portal closed.

Sarah Williams turned in her sleep.

The Setup

An experienced Jack Burton after the events of Big Trouble in Little China armed with his trusty knife and wits(such as they are) must brave the realm of the Goblin King to claim the dreams of Sarah Williams back.

Will Jack Burton get his check in the mail and claim the dreams? Or has the titular driver bitten off more than he can chew?

You decide.

[Callisto]

Learn More About
Jack Burton
Read more about Jack Burton at Wikipedia
Official Site: 20th Century Fox Links: Wikipedia GiantBomb UGO

Jareth (The Goblin King)
Read more about Jareth (The Goblin King) at Wikipedia
Official Site: Jim Henson Productions Links: Jareth's Wiki Entry Labyrinth Wiki Entry Labyrinth on IMDB

[Hugo Fowl]

Apologies folks, it's been a while and my age is showing. Lol

[Fox]

My, that was quite a read. 

Sarah Williams uncle was none other than Jack Burton?  And Ol' Jack has to traverse the Labyrinth?

Nice work!  And quite the literary set-up.

But perhaps the real question before us is ...

The Pork Chop Express

VS. The Goblin King's Codpiece

 

Because these are two characters that are definitely known by their equipment.

I have to give it to Jack Burton.  I think he's going to manage a way through dumb luck and bravado.

Jareth ain't no David Lo Pan

 

 

[Confession FPT]

I’m gonna give this five-stars for match up alone. 

[SSJRuss]

Been a hot minute since I've seen either of these movies. This match made me nostalgic and I can tell you really put effort into this story, which is something I like to see.

Like Fox said, Jack wins with dumb luck and bravado. Plus he's already hurt Jareth, and he'll remember that when he faces him again.

[Callisto]

Match Final Results

Member Ratings:
CBUB Match Judge : 5 Stars x 2
CBUB Match Judge : 5 Stars x 2
CBUB Match Judge : 4 Stars x 2

FPA Calculation:
4 + 2 + 0 + 0 + 0 = 6 Total Votes
( (4 * 5) + (2 * 4) + (0 * 3) + (0 * 2) + (0 * 1) ) = 28 Total Stars Score
28 / 6 = 4.67 Total Rating

MATCH SCORE
Jack Burton: 9
Jareth (The Goblin King): 5