Post by zaigon on Jul 26, 2020 21:51:53 GMT -5
This wasn’t happening.
A dazed Alpah World Champion Zaigon Carter sat in his locker room backstage at Metal. In the corner Prosperity sat with the quiet dignity expected of him. In Mr. Carter’s lap was the World title, kept close for obvious reasons.
That referee shouldn’t have stopped the match.
There was no reason too.
Mr. Carter’s head pounded , but no it wasn’t the right decision. He had plenty left.
It wasn’t supposed to be stopped.
That face.
That sneering face loomed large in the mind of Mr. Carter. Staring at him at the end of the show, with smug satisfaction and righteous arrogance.
That fucking face.
This is what it was all about. That referee was in on it, scared by her power. Worried that if he didn’t bend to her will, he’d be on the unemployment line.
She set this all up.
Just to fuck him.
Just to rattle him.
Just to make him think there was no hope at Showdown. To think that title was unsafe, that his mission was in jeopardy.
She doesn’t know what she’s dealing with.
She thinks she can win a power struggle with a man like him.
A God like him.
The savior of her company?
She has another thing co…
A woman enters the room, breaking Mr. Carter’s train of thought. She’s holding a cell phone like it’s a live grenade.
“Mr. Carter, there’s someone from…”
Mr. Carter stands up, with minimal effort as he guides the title onto the chair’s arm. A glare comes across his face; like an angry cobra.
“I told everyone I want to be alone. What part of ALONE DID YOU NOT UNDERSTAND!?”
“My apologies sir, it’s just this person called and said they were from…”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass if they’re from the Vatican, the Wailing Wall, or even Heaven itself right now. If it’s so damn important to talk to me, they can call me when I’m not in the middle of a fucking conspiracy against me and my mission.”
“...and when should I tell them that will be so they can call…”
“GET. THE. FUCK. OUT!!!”
The woman jolts out of the room, so fast she almost left a cartoonish smoke outline where she once stood. Slamming the door with ferocity, Mr. Carter sits back down pulling his title back into his lap. Wincing slightly as another pulse of pain goes through his head.
Corey Black will pay for this.
Irina Ivanova will definitely pay for this.
Everyone that stands against this era will pay.
One way or another.
========
Let me be quite clear about something.
There is only one way all of this ends. This crusade, this mission.
My way.
You may think that because Irina Ivanova, her lap dog Corey Black, and a corrupt official all conspiring to leave their World Champion looking weak at the end of Metal means that there’s a problem.
There’s not.
I see through the plans, the fatwa being put against my new order. It’s not hard to figure out after all, it all loops back to the same thing.
Power.
This title I won, this title I command gives me power. Rightful, glorious, undisputed power.
If you think for a single second one attempted assasination, one failed crucifixion is going to cease that you’re all dumber than I thought.
This all too transparent coup to remove me as champion will fail, it is inevitable. It didn’t happen last week, as I am still standing here your champion.
It won’t happen at Showdown, because unless you decide you want to bribe five other hungry champions and another official I will emerge from the lion’s den the victorious gladiator.
There is no scenario where you will take this from me.
None.
Clearly though, after this futile attempt, you need a reminder of just what that means. Before this title came to its rightful owner, I spent weeks leaving the roster messages that told the world exactly what I was capable of. What would happen if you stood against me.
This is the part where you need to pay attention, Vonn Richter.
You aren’t in this place by accident, no no no. When in need of help, the Spirit delivers to those who ask. Those who are faithful receive rewards.
You are my reward.
A mountain of a man, a future prospect that just might have been something if you had thought things a little bit more through. A little more studying, a little less steroids would have done you some good.
Regardless though you are the perfect lamb to slaughter because you represent everything that might stand against me. You are the exact type that might be sent to continue my persecution. A dumb, lumbering animal who has no use but his own advancement.
You have no higher purpose, you have no vision. You have veins the size of anacondas and a brain the size of your shrunken testicles.
Yet laying you own in front of the world, in front of those who are taking up arms against the in progress revolution, will be perfect. As you lay there defeated, broken, it’ll be clear that it doesn’t matter how big
How dumb
How much they might achieve in the future
They will all fall.
You might be thinking this is personal Richter. That I don’t like you, and this is some sort of vendetta against you.
In fairness, I don’t like you for the reasons you can tell above.
This is not personal though. This could have been anyone who’d be offered up as a sacrifice in my name, in the name of my cause.
You just happened to be who was sent my way.
That doesn’t mean it will save you.
There is only one man that can save you.
Me.
When I’m done inflicting the punishment necessary to send a message, you’ll be in bad shape. The worst shape of your miserable life, courtesy of the World Champion. It will be agony, deliberate and excruciating agony.
When it’s over though, you have a choice. You can continue upon your life as a mindless meathead, toiling at the bottom of the card with no hopes except for the next person to come along and treat you the way I will.
Or you can recover, emerge from your failure, and join me.
Stand in my light, by my side in the upcoming fight. If you can survive this onslaught, it’ll prove your toughness. Joining my side of the war will prove your loyalty.
Those are valued things, things that can turn someone like you into more than you might imagine.
All you have to do is put your faith in me. Believe that I am your savior, that only I can guide you to the promised land.
But not yet.
First is the pain, then can be the salvation.
It has to be this way.
If you want someone to blame, go blame Corey Black.
Go blame Irina Ivanona.
After all when you think about it, I’m not the one bringing this upon you.
They are.
Their actions are the catalyst for your future misery. They are the ones forcing you into a vengeance fueled beating. They do not care about you.
I do though.
Enough to make you a message.
Enough to offer you a place in my new era.
Enough that I will not lie to you about what’s about to happen.
I’ve made my choice Vonn, my path is clear.
What’s yours?
A dazed Alpah World Champion Zaigon Carter sat in his locker room backstage at Metal. In the corner Prosperity sat with the quiet dignity expected of him. In Mr. Carter’s lap was the World title, kept close for obvious reasons.
That referee shouldn’t have stopped the match.
There was no reason too.
Mr. Carter’s head pounded , but no it wasn’t the right decision. He had plenty left.
It wasn’t supposed to be stopped.
That face.
That sneering face loomed large in the mind of Mr. Carter. Staring at him at the end of the show, with smug satisfaction and righteous arrogance.
That fucking face.
This is what it was all about. That referee was in on it, scared by her power. Worried that if he didn’t bend to her will, he’d be on the unemployment line.
She set this all up.
Just to fuck him.
Just to rattle him.
Just to make him think there was no hope at Showdown. To think that title was unsafe, that his mission was in jeopardy.
She doesn’t know what she’s dealing with.
She thinks she can win a power struggle with a man like him.
A God like him.
The savior of her company?
She has another thing co…
A woman enters the room, breaking Mr. Carter’s train of thought. She’s holding a cell phone like it’s a live grenade.
“Mr. Carter, there’s someone from…”
Mr. Carter stands up, with minimal effort as he guides the title onto the chair’s arm. A glare comes across his face; like an angry cobra.
“I told everyone I want to be alone. What part of ALONE DID YOU NOT UNDERSTAND!?”
“My apologies sir, it’s just this person called and said they were from…”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass if they’re from the Vatican, the Wailing Wall, or even Heaven itself right now. If it’s so damn important to talk to me, they can call me when I’m not in the middle of a fucking conspiracy against me and my mission.”
“...and when should I tell them that will be so they can call…”
“GET. THE. FUCK. OUT!!!”
The woman jolts out of the room, so fast she almost left a cartoonish smoke outline where she once stood. Slamming the door with ferocity, Mr. Carter sits back down pulling his title back into his lap. Wincing slightly as another pulse of pain goes through his head.
Corey Black will pay for this.
Irina Ivanova will definitely pay for this.
Everyone that stands against this era will pay.
One way or another.
========
Let me be quite clear about something.
There is only one way all of this ends. This crusade, this mission.
My way.
You may think that because Irina Ivanova, her lap dog Corey Black, and a corrupt official all conspiring to leave their World Champion looking weak at the end of Metal means that there’s a problem.
There’s not.
I see through the plans, the fatwa being put against my new order. It’s not hard to figure out after all, it all loops back to the same thing.
Power.
This title I won, this title I command gives me power. Rightful, glorious, undisputed power.
If you think for a single second one attempted assasination, one failed crucifixion is going to cease that you’re all dumber than I thought.
This all too transparent coup to remove me as champion will fail, it is inevitable. It didn’t happen last week, as I am still standing here your champion.
It won’t happen at Showdown, because unless you decide you want to bribe five other hungry champions and another official I will emerge from the lion’s den the victorious gladiator.
There is no scenario where you will take this from me.
None.
Clearly though, after this futile attempt, you need a reminder of just what that means. Before this title came to its rightful owner, I spent weeks leaving the roster messages that told the world exactly what I was capable of. What would happen if you stood against me.
This is the part where you need to pay attention, Vonn Richter.
You aren’t in this place by accident, no no no. When in need of help, the Spirit delivers to those who ask. Those who are faithful receive rewards.
You are my reward.
A mountain of a man, a future prospect that just might have been something if you had thought things a little bit more through. A little more studying, a little less steroids would have done you some good.
Regardless though you are the perfect lamb to slaughter because you represent everything that might stand against me. You are the exact type that might be sent to continue my persecution. A dumb, lumbering animal who has no use but his own advancement.
You have no higher purpose, you have no vision. You have veins the size of anacondas and a brain the size of your shrunken testicles.
Yet laying you own in front of the world, in front of those who are taking up arms against the in progress revolution, will be perfect. As you lay there defeated, broken, it’ll be clear that it doesn’t matter how big
How dumb
How much they might achieve in the future
They will all fall.
You might be thinking this is personal Richter. That I don’t like you, and this is some sort of vendetta against you.
In fairness, I don’t like you for the reasons you can tell above.
This is not personal though. This could have been anyone who’d be offered up as a sacrifice in my name, in the name of my cause.
You just happened to be who was sent my way.
That doesn’t mean it will save you.
There is only one man that can save you.
Me.
When I’m done inflicting the punishment necessary to send a message, you’ll be in bad shape. The worst shape of your miserable life, courtesy of the World Champion. It will be agony, deliberate and excruciating agony.
When it’s over though, you have a choice. You can continue upon your life as a mindless meathead, toiling at the bottom of the card with no hopes except for the next person to come along and treat you the way I will.
Or you can recover, emerge from your failure, and join me.
Stand in my light, by my side in the upcoming fight. If you can survive this onslaught, it’ll prove your toughness. Joining my side of the war will prove your loyalty.
Those are valued things, things that can turn someone like you into more than you might imagine.
All you have to do is put your faith in me. Believe that I am your savior, that only I can guide you to the promised land.
But not yet.
First is the pain, then can be the salvation.
It has to be this way.
If you want someone to blame, go blame Corey Black.
Go blame Irina Ivanona.
After all when you think about it, I’m not the one bringing this upon you.
They are.
Their actions are the catalyst for your future misery. They are the ones forcing you into a vengeance fueled beating. They do not care about you.
I do though.
Enough to make you a message.
Enough to offer you a place in my new era.
Enough that I will not lie to you about what’s about to happen.
I’ve made my choice Vonn, my path is clear.
What’s yours?
