Post by M.D.K. on Aug 17, 2007 19:30:46 GMT -5
(Orange Street, London. This is where we find M.D.K. tonight and it has been a while since he has been here. It was the eve of his first title match here when he made an impromptu stop to pray for the souls of those he was about to destroy. He stuck to his word that night and from then on he has never looked back. Internet Gold and Intercontinental glory have gravitated to him and according to all of the critics, the World Title wasn’t far away but first was another defence of his Intercontinental Title and it was against a man that was becoming a recurring thorn in his side; Dean James. These two had now fought several times in the past few weeks and the stats certainly weren’t favourable towards Dean; three encounters, two defeats and a messy draw that had bought a lot of controversy this week. M.D.K. was going into this as a runaway favourite and even he was quietly confident during his public appearances this week. Dean would have to pull something special out of the bag to eclipse M.D.K.’s astounding run he has been having since capturing this title.
As he enters the large, vacant, cold church, the only light can is from the bright full moon that is beaming through the broken stained glass window over the door and it glistens onto his Intercontinental title that sits proudly on his shoulder. He is clad in a suit jacket and black trousers as well as a trademark crisp, black t-shirt underneath and as he stands amongst the rows of pews, he gives the title a gentle pet before sighing deeply.)
M.D.K.: “I am not normally a religious man but this place has been to known to invigorate and empower me. It allows me to give thanks for everything I have, everything I am and everything I am to become. It is also is one of the few paces where Angelo cannot interrupt me.”
(He smiles weakly and takes a few carefully chosen steps forwards. Angelo was affecting every aspect of his game but it didn’t stop him from talking the good game and consequently bringing that to the ring. Despite a broken collar-bone, M.D.K. has churned out epic matches two weeks in the row and is the saviour of the main event after Famine ran home to Stockholm and Page was too stoned to not shit himself let alone compete in a competent wrestling match. As M.D.K. walks along the echoed church, he breathes in and out incredibly deeply as though he was absorbing the pure goodness that this place exuded. He wasn’t a religious man by any stretches of the imagination and yet this was the type of place that could empower to such a degree that no mortal could stand up to him. He holds out his arms and turns 180 degrees on the spot and looks to the ceiling.)
M.D.K.: “It’s a glorious feeling and look at the architecture of this place. Sally has taught me a lot about it and the pure artistry that went into creating this structure is something to be marvelled at. It’s the kind of place that makes you proud to be part of something so special and for you people tonight that are watching at home and especially for Dean James, you should be honoured that you are allowed into such a place; a place that contains such an amazingly powerful figure. Alas, I am in the wrong place to deliver these words. Bear with me for just one moment.”
(With a small jog, he darts up to the font at the front and stands behind it with his arms out-stretched and his eyes closed for a brief moment before leaning forwards and glaring at the camera as though he was delivering a sermon.)
M.D.K.: “you can keep your gods and keep your false idols because there is only one superior being in the WGWF and he consist of three letters; M.D.K. and M.D.K. is there for one reason and one reason alone and that is to dominate, decimate and continue to crush my opponents.”
(He looks down and shakes his head smiling. He shouldn’t be such a heathen but in a way, his words rang true; he was a superior athlete and beyond compare when put alongside any man on the roster then it was true; there was only one man that had the honour to have a pinfall victory over him and that had since felt the bitter sting of defeat at M.D.K.’s hands and this led to M.D.K. having no man who could honestly claim to be better than M.D.K. and who could? Chris Page didn’t even have the gall to fight M.D.K. in the ring so that showed his true colours and yes Page, it is I – narration guy – and I still want a piece of you and the moment you have enough balls to stand up to me then we will have go time bitch because you will be going down! Anyway, M.D.K. continues to speak as though he was an impassioned preacher again.)
M.D.K.: “I have been warned not to lose focus on my match at hand but I need to digress for a moment to address something that has been preying on my mind from the moment I heard about it and that is the story about the big match ducking, cowardly, bearded mother fucker that dares to call himself a Demon King; I am of course addressing you Famine of the Vile.”
“Savour that moment Rob because that is the last time I ever address you by that name because Rob, you are no mythological creature any more in my eyes and you are certainly no legend to behold and worship. What you are is a mere mortal like every other asshole on this roster and that is the one thing you dreaded becoming and that is eating you inside. You ducked the big match twice now and that is your last chance in my books. I settled into the main event slot nicely and now grace the fans with true skill and ability and something that they never saw from the crudely hewn together bastard child that dared to call itself a champion. Do you think that that kind of attention stays when you swan off to have your toenails clipped? Fame in the Main Event is fleeting and instead of savouring every minute, you squandered your shot by thinking you were immortal. The first return when you got past Marc by the skin of your teeth should have been a subtle reminder to you that you are not the man you thought you were and when that stoned mother fucker Chris Page put you on your ass for a three count then you should have realised that your time has passed and a new chapter has begun; that of me; M.D.K. “
“But you still return and decide to degrade yourself by gracing us with your presence. Is it supposed to generate some form of reaction now? I mean sure, Andrew King may cream his pants over your return but those that have the intelligence to know better are unite with our indifference towards you. There are only so many times you can go to the well for a reaction and now your well has run well and truly dry. How does it feel to come back after a nine day vacation Rob? How does it feel to walk back into a building full of vague recognition and ignorance towards you? How does it feel to be ordinary once again?”
(He stands up straight and begins his next sentence with a sharp note to indicate that he is moving onto the bread and butter of his sermon and his opponent at Armageddon; Dean James. M.D.K. was growing tired of having to deliver words about Dean each and every week and probably Dean was feeling the same burn. M.D.K. wasn’t used to facing the same guy each and every week but Dean was like a boil that wouldn’t go away. He would no doubt attempt to try and turn M.D.K.’s words around in a neat comprehension style but would fail dismally when he would misinterpret one of M.D.K.’s words and end up making himself look like a 24 carat wanker but Dean was sure to be getting used to it by now. M.D.K. continued to torment the young man.)
M.D.K.: “They say that every man as a measuring stick by which to measure up to and see how they are shaping up in whatever aspect of life they are wishing to excel at. I am your measuring stick Dean and the act is you are dismal in comparison to me. Look at the facts for starters; you started almost a month before me in this company and yet the only thing you have to show for it is a tag team title which you were given by Paul Frost. There was no epic tag team contest and no clash of the titans. It was merely Paul feeling generous and handing out something he could have given to any superstar on the roster but he gave it to you; the epitome of average Joe. So you have one gift around your waist. I on the other hand am a former Internet champion and the current Intercontinental Champion, I am electrifying the Main Event each and every week and I am the face on thousands of posters around the world. Little boys want to grow up to be just like me while the teenage girls get special feeling downstairs whenever they see me. I am rapidly becoming an ICON of the WGWF and all this is something that you cannot even begin to comprehend because I am a success in this business and not only here in the US because only last week I became the number one contender for the World Title out in Japan. These fiercely fought victories and the idea of giving every ounce of strength you can lay claim to is beyond you though isn’t it Dean?”
“I am fought through everything that you and your ban of merry men have thrown at me and I have tossed it aside as though it was waste paper. Every time you have knocked me down I have got back up again., every time I have been slapped in the face I have hit you right back and every single time one of you or your cronies has had to face me, I have crushed them like the insects that they are. This is why I created this match Dean as it represents everything that our battles have stood for; bloodshed, suffering and the anguish of not climbing a ladder. It is called last chance though Dean because you have had more failed attempts to beat me than Wile E Coyote and it is time to draw a line under us. If you cannot beat me at Armageddon then that is it for us; no more singles matches, no more shots at my Intercontinental title and no hope of being anything more than a lackey while I am still here. That above anything else is what sickens you doesn’t it Dean?”
“I hate to get all nostalgic but do you remember our first ladder match Dean? You were so close to victory when I tugged you away from it and broke your heart as well as your dreams and spirit. You were broken and I had that title in my hands. It was a singles title; something that you have not had the pleasure to grace in this company and something that you never will while I am in existence. This match will push you to the very extremes of your physical tolerance; do you think you can push yourself that far Dean? Can you fight through the pain and the agony to still climb those eight steps that lead to the Intercontinental title? I don’t think you can Dean. You would never be able to have fought these last two weeks with a broken collar-bone; you would never be able to take the combined beating of four men and still be able to walk away. You haven’t got what I have and that is what has made you so bitter towards me; you resent all that I am and all that I have become while you remain in the shadow of everybody except Gash Money and even his own shadow isn’t in his shadow so that doesn’t say much.”
(He unbuttons the top button of his shirt to reveal a deep red line across his neck where his collar-bone is situated.)
M.D.K.: “After Brawl on Monday, I flew back to Harley Street in London and had one of the leading surgeons place pins into my collar bone to secure it and speed up the process. He too advised against competing in any physical exertion like this but I feel like a million dollars now and there is no way in hell I will squander a chance to humiliate you one more time.”
“It’s a shame when you think that if you hadn’t had the character and attention span of a goldfish then this really would have had some zing to it but instead, it is just the athlete against the wannabe in he age old battle of true schooling. Why did you change your mind so fickly back then Dean? Was it truly the allure of Paul’s blue rinse and a free belt? Why didn’t you just get some generic wrestling magazine that will give you tokens for a replica belt and a packet of jelly beans? I don’t care though Dean because I know exactly what is going to rip from that disastrous chasm you call a mouth and that will be about dogs, slaves and shadows. Now with all due respect – of which there is none - I don’t want to talk about your personal life but Marc was never my dog, never in my shadow and never anything less than an equal to me. You can think all the sordid little thoughts you can think up in that unimaginative wasteland that is apparently your mind but just like every time you face me, you will draw a blank.”
“I am truly growing tired of this now which is why it is a last chance. It is a last chance for you to do all those things you have failed to execute in the past. Make me bleed and take my title; just two tasks to do and then you have glory and respect gravitating to you. If you are honest with yourself though Dean, for you to beat me would defy every law of physics ever created.”
“Kash tried to take this title from me and failed, Paul fought for this title and failed and I took this title indirectly from Adam Barker so what fucking hope do you have of holding this? Are you trying to tell me that you are better than Paul Frost? Paul was at his peak physical condition when he lost to me, Kash was in top condition when he lost to me and you couldn’t beat me if you were vamped up like Optimus Prime! How would Paul feel if he knew you felt that you were worthier of this shot than him and don’t tell me you are like one big fucking family because you need to face facts son; your family is so dysfunctional, you make the Manson’s look like the fucking Brady Bunch.”
“You are worthless Dean; you reminisce about matches that never were against guys that never existed. Your highlight of your career if getting your arse handed to you by Paul at Master of the Mat. Well if losing is what you love so dearly then don’t let me be the one to disappoint you as I never let anybody down because while there is blood in my veins and breath in my lungs, I will never let any mother fucking mortal near my Intercontinental Championship especially such an unworthy day dreamer like you Dean, you INFERIOR piece of trash!”
(He adjusts his title upon his shoulder and walks down the aisle of the church and back into the gloom that is London at night.)
As he enters the large, vacant, cold church, the only light can is from the bright full moon that is beaming through the broken stained glass window over the door and it glistens onto his Intercontinental title that sits proudly on his shoulder. He is clad in a suit jacket and black trousers as well as a trademark crisp, black t-shirt underneath and as he stands amongst the rows of pews, he gives the title a gentle pet before sighing deeply.)
M.D.K.: “I am not normally a religious man but this place has been to known to invigorate and empower me. It allows me to give thanks for everything I have, everything I am and everything I am to become. It is also is one of the few paces where Angelo cannot interrupt me.”
(He smiles weakly and takes a few carefully chosen steps forwards. Angelo was affecting every aspect of his game but it didn’t stop him from talking the good game and consequently bringing that to the ring. Despite a broken collar-bone, M.D.K. has churned out epic matches two weeks in the row and is the saviour of the main event after Famine ran home to Stockholm and Page was too stoned to not shit himself let alone compete in a competent wrestling match. As M.D.K. walks along the echoed church, he breathes in and out incredibly deeply as though he was absorbing the pure goodness that this place exuded. He wasn’t a religious man by any stretches of the imagination and yet this was the type of place that could empower to such a degree that no mortal could stand up to him. He holds out his arms and turns 180 degrees on the spot and looks to the ceiling.)
M.D.K.: “It’s a glorious feeling and look at the architecture of this place. Sally has taught me a lot about it and the pure artistry that went into creating this structure is something to be marvelled at. It’s the kind of place that makes you proud to be part of something so special and for you people tonight that are watching at home and especially for Dean James, you should be honoured that you are allowed into such a place; a place that contains such an amazingly powerful figure. Alas, I am in the wrong place to deliver these words. Bear with me for just one moment.”
(With a small jog, he darts up to the font at the front and stands behind it with his arms out-stretched and his eyes closed for a brief moment before leaning forwards and glaring at the camera as though he was delivering a sermon.)
M.D.K.: “you can keep your gods and keep your false idols because there is only one superior being in the WGWF and he consist of three letters; M.D.K. and M.D.K. is there for one reason and one reason alone and that is to dominate, decimate and continue to crush my opponents.”
(He looks down and shakes his head smiling. He shouldn’t be such a heathen but in a way, his words rang true; he was a superior athlete and beyond compare when put alongside any man on the roster then it was true; there was only one man that had the honour to have a pinfall victory over him and that had since felt the bitter sting of defeat at M.D.K.’s hands and this led to M.D.K. having no man who could honestly claim to be better than M.D.K. and who could? Chris Page didn’t even have the gall to fight M.D.K. in the ring so that showed his true colours and yes Page, it is I – narration guy – and I still want a piece of you and the moment you have enough balls to stand up to me then we will have go time bitch because you will be going down! Anyway, M.D.K. continues to speak as though he was an impassioned preacher again.)
M.D.K.: “I have been warned not to lose focus on my match at hand but I need to digress for a moment to address something that has been preying on my mind from the moment I heard about it and that is the story about the big match ducking, cowardly, bearded mother fucker that dares to call himself a Demon King; I am of course addressing you Famine of the Vile.”
“Savour that moment Rob because that is the last time I ever address you by that name because Rob, you are no mythological creature any more in my eyes and you are certainly no legend to behold and worship. What you are is a mere mortal like every other asshole on this roster and that is the one thing you dreaded becoming and that is eating you inside. You ducked the big match twice now and that is your last chance in my books. I settled into the main event slot nicely and now grace the fans with true skill and ability and something that they never saw from the crudely hewn together bastard child that dared to call itself a champion. Do you think that that kind of attention stays when you swan off to have your toenails clipped? Fame in the Main Event is fleeting and instead of savouring every minute, you squandered your shot by thinking you were immortal. The first return when you got past Marc by the skin of your teeth should have been a subtle reminder to you that you are not the man you thought you were and when that stoned mother fucker Chris Page put you on your ass for a three count then you should have realised that your time has passed and a new chapter has begun; that of me; M.D.K. “
“But you still return and decide to degrade yourself by gracing us with your presence. Is it supposed to generate some form of reaction now? I mean sure, Andrew King may cream his pants over your return but those that have the intelligence to know better are unite with our indifference towards you. There are only so many times you can go to the well for a reaction and now your well has run well and truly dry. How does it feel to come back after a nine day vacation Rob? How does it feel to walk back into a building full of vague recognition and ignorance towards you? How does it feel to be ordinary once again?”
(He stands up straight and begins his next sentence with a sharp note to indicate that he is moving onto the bread and butter of his sermon and his opponent at Armageddon; Dean James. M.D.K. was growing tired of having to deliver words about Dean each and every week and probably Dean was feeling the same burn. M.D.K. wasn’t used to facing the same guy each and every week but Dean was like a boil that wouldn’t go away. He would no doubt attempt to try and turn M.D.K.’s words around in a neat comprehension style but would fail dismally when he would misinterpret one of M.D.K.’s words and end up making himself look like a 24 carat wanker but Dean was sure to be getting used to it by now. M.D.K. continued to torment the young man.)
M.D.K.: “They say that every man as a measuring stick by which to measure up to and see how they are shaping up in whatever aspect of life they are wishing to excel at. I am your measuring stick Dean and the act is you are dismal in comparison to me. Look at the facts for starters; you started almost a month before me in this company and yet the only thing you have to show for it is a tag team title which you were given by Paul Frost. There was no epic tag team contest and no clash of the titans. It was merely Paul feeling generous and handing out something he could have given to any superstar on the roster but he gave it to you; the epitome of average Joe. So you have one gift around your waist. I on the other hand am a former Internet champion and the current Intercontinental Champion, I am electrifying the Main Event each and every week and I am the face on thousands of posters around the world. Little boys want to grow up to be just like me while the teenage girls get special feeling downstairs whenever they see me. I am rapidly becoming an ICON of the WGWF and all this is something that you cannot even begin to comprehend because I am a success in this business and not only here in the US because only last week I became the number one contender for the World Title out in Japan. These fiercely fought victories and the idea of giving every ounce of strength you can lay claim to is beyond you though isn’t it Dean?”
“I am fought through everything that you and your ban of merry men have thrown at me and I have tossed it aside as though it was waste paper. Every time you have knocked me down I have got back up again., every time I have been slapped in the face I have hit you right back and every single time one of you or your cronies has had to face me, I have crushed them like the insects that they are. This is why I created this match Dean as it represents everything that our battles have stood for; bloodshed, suffering and the anguish of not climbing a ladder. It is called last chance though Dean because you have had more failed attempts to beat me than Wile E Coyote and it is time to draw a line under us. If you cannot beat me at Armageddon then that is it for us; no more singles matches, no more shots at my Intercontinental title and no hope of being anything more than a lackey while I am still here. That above anything else is what sickens you doesn’t it Dean?”
“I hate to get all nostalgic but do you remember our first ladder match Dean? You were so close to victory when I tugged you away from it and broke your heart as well as your dreams and spirit. You were broken and I had that title in my hands. It was a singles title; something that you have not had the pleasure to grace in this company and something that you never will while I am in existence. This match will push you to the very extremes of your physical tolerance; do you think you can push yourself that far Dean? Can you fight through the pain and the agony to still climb those eight steps that lead to the Intercontinental title? I don’t think you can Dean. You would never be able to have fought these last two weeks with a broken collar-bone; you would never be able to take the combined beating of four men and still be able to walk away. You haven’t got what I have and that is what has made you so bitter towards me; you resent all that I am and all that I have become while you remain in the shadow of everybody except Gash Money and even his own shadow isn’t in his shadow so that doesn’t say much.”
(He unbuttons the top button of his shirt to reveal a deep red line across his neck where his collar-bone is situated.)
M.D.K.: “After Brawl on Monday, I flew back to Harley Street in London and had one of the leading surgeons place pins into my collar bone to secure it and speed up the process. He too advised against competing in any physical exertion like this but I feel like a million dollars now and there is no way in hell I will squander a chance to humiliate you one more time.”
“It’s a shame when you think that if you hadn’t had the character and attention span of a goldfish then this really would have had some zing to it but instead, it is just the athlete against the wannabe in he age old battle of true schooling. Why did you change your mind so fickly back then Dean? Was it truly the allure of Paul’s blue rinse and a free belt? Why didn’t you just get some generic wrestling magazine that will give you tokens for a replica belt and a packet of jelly beans? I don’t care though Dean because I know exactly what is going to rip from that disastrous chasm you call a mouth and that will be about dogs, slaves and shadows. Now with all due respect – of which there is none - I don’t want to talk about your personal life but Marc was never my dog, never in my shadow and never anything less than an equal to me. You can think all the sordid little thoughts you can think up in that unimaginative wasteland that is apparently your mind but just like every time you face me, you will draw a blank.”
“I am truly growing tired of this now which is why it is a last chance. It is a last chance for you to do all those things you have failed to execute in the past. Make me bleed and take my title; just two tasks to do and then you have glory and respect gravitating to you. If you are honest with yourself though Dean, for you to beat me would defy every law of physics ever created.”
“Kash tried to take this title from me and failed, Paul fought for this title and failed and I took this title indirectly from Adam Barker so what fucking hope do you have of holding this? Are you trying to tell me that you are better than Paul Frost? Paul was at his peak physical condition when he lost to me, Kash was in top condition when he lost to me and you couldn’t beat me if you were vamped up like Optimus Prime! How would Paul feel if he knew you felt that you were worthier of this shot than him and don’t tell me you are like one big fucking family because you need to face facts son; your family is so dysfunctional, you make the Manson’s look like the fucking Brady Bunch.”
“You are worthless Dean; you reminisce about matches that never were against guys that never existed. Your highlight of your career if getting your arse handed to you by Paul at Master of the Mat. Well if losing is what you love so dearly then don’t let me be the one to disappoint you as I never let anybody down because while there is blood in my veins and breath in my lungs, I will never let any mother fucking mortal near my Intercontinental Championship especially such an unworthy day dreamer like you Dean, you INFERIOR piece of trash!”
(He adjusts his title upon his shoulder and walks down the aisle of the church and back into the gloom that is London at night.)