Post by TheNewBreed on Apr 15, 2018 23:01:07 GMT -5
Oh... so you got jokes to spare, huh? You think telling the world some TMZ/Hallmark story about 'what really happened' with all the facts and the people skewed just right to look funny and still be some sort of plausible conspiracy theory will just send that knife point in above the ribs and plunge it right into my heart? You think that it will get my scruffy goat of short hairs tied all up in knots to hear you spouting Jessica's name like some broken record and tossing my own words back in my face like it was going to be the straw that broke the Beast's back? You think that showing the world how far you were willing to dig to find out all the juicy bits of my life you could sink your teeth in and twisting them around was the way to go?
Really?
You are either stupid... like incredibly so... like to a point I don't even think you realize you may have an actual learning handicaps...
Or you have underestimated me so much... that tomorrow night might actually surprise you and any fans you may have out there.
No seriously.
Look back at it all, brother... and bask in how you have Kyle Shaned yourself right into my trap you arrogant son of a bitch.
See... when I fought Kyle Shane and beat him for the WGWF IC Title... I did it with my mind. You think I am some dumb ape... but the reality of it is far different.
I buried myself inside his world, and I threw him so far off his game that it broke him.
You are no different... and far easier to play than Kyle Shane on a bad day... so there's that at least.
A long time ago, you used to get under my skin so bad. I hated you... everything about you... your voice, the condescending way you curl your lip when you smile at the crowd while telling them how horrible you think they are, that damned confident swagger you have that tells the world you think you are the pinnacle of human existence and they are all shit compared to you... all of it... everything about you MDK.
I hated you and how you had turned your back on all the fans who had helped build your legacy with you all those years...
And I hated how much you really liked it. You take a pure, unadulterated pleasure in being the asshole you have told yourself you really are.
But I realized something during that time... you know, when you refused to take a singles match with me and is the real reason we have never faced off one on one...
I realized it's all just a face you wear... a mask as it were... and you have been building it for so long, that I actually think you have forgotten that it is only a facade... a shell to protect your fragile ego from the harsh realities of life and the truth of the fact that you don't care if people actually care about you or just do what you tell them to do out of fear. You actually don't understand the difference... and you never will.
You're a lonely, bitter, pissed off piece of shit inside of a spiky leather jacket just trying to keep the world at bay so you don't get your little feelings hurt, and when things don't go your way, you think the only way to make sure it doesn't crumble under your feet is to lash out and hurt people so that no one fails you or your overinflated expectations of them ever again...
and that...
well that's just sad.
Since then... hate is not the thing I feel for you... it's pity.
I don't have time in my life to chase things around that I pity... oh no. I am a busy man, MDK.
There are so very few things in this life that I actually hate... and I am, in fact, a man driven by passion, and pity isn't passionate MDK... it's pitiful.
So, you wonder why I haven't hyped this match up with run-ins and back stage bullshit? You pose the question as to why I haven't pulled any antics far more befitting a man of your ideals than my own... and you query as to why it is that I haven't stooped to your level and attacked you backstage or made my point to destroy you better...
Well to be honest...
And I am seriously sad to admit this to you, because I really wanted to be hyped about this match too...
But I honestly just don't find you that important or intriguing anymore.
I think that the only people who are going to win on Monday night with our match are the fans who have been waiting for over a year for me to finally get my hands on you and put them out of your misery.
No... listen.
I know you think you know how this match is going to go down, but the fact is, in this matter and in all other things, you're wrong, MDK.
You're just wrong.
See, you aren't going to come in like some movie star, squared jawed hero and kick my ass from ring post to ring post for an hour and then stand atop my chest with a glorious pose for the world to see and take pictures of, then go on with your life like it never happened and laughing of the memory in your next retirement.
That isn't the fate of us, Danny.
No... this is actually going to be more like a Tyson fight... and you just don't have the voice for the leading role.
What I mean by that is simple... people are going to pay a lot of money to watch a guy get his teeth knocked down his throat and then it'll be all over before it started, but it won't be the casting roles you used your budget on or the kind of twisted bullshit that was either.
What I'm getting at MDK... is that I spent months building my psychological game up with Kyle Shane, because he deserved that kind of devotion. A man like him deserved the best I have, and the most effort I could put in to making the victory I got worth it.
You...
I pity you.
I'm not going to waste my time putting on a Connolly style clinic with you Danny.
I'm going to put your sad, pitifully decrepit ass out to pasture, and end this facade of badd-assery you're riding right now.
I'm going to rip you apart in such a fashion, in fact, that Alyce won't even overcome her grief to fight Tristan for the belt later on in the show and I'll put some money down I can even make Xmyles turn his head to cough so as to hide a squeamish tummy at the sight of it all... and I'll make it lightning quick... to save you all the pain of it.
I promise.
I never torture lame animals... and I won't make an exception for you, Danny. Just put em down... nice and humane like.
Hell... at this point, Danny... I wonder if I won't have you off your game pretty hard, too.
I mean... it took a lot to dig up old Cazzobreaker. I haven't seen that guy in almost 15 years, and things didn't go so great for the EWCL after I left. You might have actually casted that role pretty close, to be fair.
But damn if that didn't take some dedication, and a good investigator, I'd bet.
What else... uh... oh yeah.
You obviously Google searched Oil City, but typical you didn't take the time to read very far on their wiki. Venango County Sheriffs would've never let me out of a padded cell at nine if I were a killer.
Those backwater rent-a-cops would have locked me up and threw away the key.
You nailed the racial profiling of a mountain town with a hard drug problem and a declining economy after the fall out of the coal industry and shift in steel trade that put most of their work force in the unemployment lines that haven't righted themselves in two decades.
Good job on figuring there aren't a lot of black people in a frozen town in the Appalachian Mountain range with no jobs and no growth.
You made some great points there... you did.
Also... digging up Joe Swarm had to have taken a chunk of money if nothing else. I hadn't even heard that name since I was about 5, and he hasn't seen me since then either.
Impressive... for a guy who says he cares so little about me that he spent a small fortune finding out the smallest of details about my life only to mock them and poke fun at the tragedy I have endured in my life.
For a man who says he isn't afraid of, or concerned with, nor care about me in the slightest... you sure spent a ton of time and money learning everything you could about me.
Really, I think it shows me just how concerned you really are about facing me one on one in the middle of the ring with no one to take the fall for you and no distractions to keep me from making good on my word... when you finally have no choice but face me man to asshole and take the beating your father should have given you a long time ago.
Seriously though, it's just sad that this is the way you use the platform that you have as a professional wrestler... and it is the very reason I am not going to spend one more minute of my life hating you.
I'm just going to end this thing between us when I show you just what a Potato can really do.
When I walk into that ring across from you and I mow over you like a field of tall grass, and show you exactly why it is that no one has ever done what I did to Kyle Shane... what I am about to do to you... and what I am going to do to Tristan Slater.
I played you just like I played Shane... and in the end... you'll find out just how dangerous this Potato really is.
I'm no one's lackey... least of all yours... and Monday night... at Wrestle Wars... I am going to shut your fucking mouth once and for all.
That game is done, match set point... Cable wins.
I have more important assholes to deal with in my life and in this company than you.
You aren't important, you never have been, and at no point do I give a rats ass what you think of how I got to be in this match.
When your moaning pocket pussy is in the World Title match and you aren't... on the biggest stage of them all... and she got handed the shot... you have no stones to throw anywhere near me, Brother... so buckle up buttercup...
This is going to be a bumpy ride for you.
You won't make it to the other side, so don't pack your lunch, or even bring your towel you daft bugger. Just bend over and kiss your ass goodbye... because the Beast is done toying with you...
You have been weighed and found wanting... this is a whole new world for us, Danny... and here... you are little more than nothing, and I pity you more than you can know.
Monday night... I put you in your place, and I end you once and for all.
That's how our destiny truly ends, Danny.
Get used to it.
* * *
Bulbs pop and flash all around, the shouting a cacophonous roar above the crowd of press swarming the front of the New Breed Foundation Building in Jacksonville, Florida. An empty podium stands before them, and the mass is growing restless and frustrated at the wait to hear from Johnathan Cable about the events of the last month. A lot of rumors have stirred the pot around the world, and there are more theories than questions at this point.
Then, a middle aged brunette woman makes her way out the front doors of the building and towards the podium. The crowd ignites even louder than before shouting questions over each other as she takes her place on the small Dias and taps the mic to see if it's on.
After a few moments of her smiling at them and staying silent, they finally get the picture and grow quiet as she clears her throat to begin.
“Hello. Welcome to the New Breed Foundation Offices here in Jacksonville. We appreciate your interest and understand your zeal to hear from Johnathan himself about the the happenings in his life as of late, and we are aware at the sensation that it has caused in the media globally... so Mr. Winthrope has called this press conference today to clear the air, lay to rest some of the most egregious rumors that have found legs, and to straighten out what really has been going on. However... Johnathan will need your cooperation so he can tell his story, and get you the information that you need to know. We need you to remain calm, and quiet while John relays this information to you, and afterwards, there will be time to ask questions. Thank you in advance for your cooperation, and now, please welcome Johnathan Winthrope.” she says matter of factly as the doors open and Cable makes his way to the stage.
He straightens out his pressed gray suit coat and smooths his stark white shirt beneath as he makes his way to the podium a midst flashes of cameras all around.
“Hello everyone, and thank you for coming today. This is sort of a long story... so I hope you guys have a while.” he begins stoicly.
“Several month ago...” he starts the story as the scene fades to black.
* * *
Oh how these hands are covered in the blood of those who have threatened those I hold dear.
Oh how this soul burns with the opportunities missed to protect the ones I loves.
Oh how the smell of the mask still burns within my nostrils and will to the day I die.
Oh how I yearn to free my soul of the pain inside of me but fail to find the path to salvation.
Oh how I fight the demon within to remain inside its cage forged of sheer will.
Oh how the torturous screams of Soth's banshees wail my failures long into the night as I sit.
Oh how the sting of mine own personal Judas Escariot burns within me to find vengeance.
And yet...
I am stumbling upon the rubble of a once mighty foundation left behind in the dust of the ages.
I am frozen upon the ladder now by the remnant of a whisper of greatness clinging to the past.
I am finding it hard to find meaning in the rumbling of the storm coming, and yet it comes.
I am full of sorrow for the fate of things to come, and joyous, to be free of it now, finally.
The storm is coming... MDK... and in the fallout of it... I want to know how it feels to you to be the one who doesn't even warrant fear... loathing... hatred... from me anymore? What is it to you to be the one pitiful in my eyes and worthless? What is it to you to know that to me... to the man you call lackey... that you don't hold a candle to Kyle Shane, Chris Connolly, or Tristan Slater in my eyes?
To be honest...
It doesn't matter.
I don't care.
Monday night... I end you.