Post by Kasey Kash on Aug 8, 2022 4:35:21 GMT
As the cameras return to ringside, preparing for the main event, the relative silence is interrupted as the PA comes to life and the lights dim down.
KYLE CASSIDY: “Ho-now! What’s going on here?”
ADAM LARUE: “Someone’s cutting into our main event window, that’s what! Who the hell has the nerve?!”
The lights on the stage begin to flicker violently as Falling In Reverse’s “The Voices In My Head” starts building to a heavy crescendo.
ADAM LARUE: “Kyle, did we have a debut scheduled?”
KYLE CASSIDY: “The Commissioner did say there would be a mystery challenger of his choosing for the XIX World Championship. Maybe we’re about to meet them?”
As soon as the chorus hits with the heavy guitar, the stage lights come on, revealing XIX World Champion, Marcus Uriah Dunne standing in the entrance smoke. His LED mask flickering within the haze. The crowd gives a pop as he slowly raises his fists in the air. Marcus throws down his arms and starts towards the ring, storming down the ramp with the World Title strapped around his waist.
KYLE CASSIDY: “Oh shit, it’s the champion himself, Adam!”
ADAM LARUE: “Well, I can see that! I’m not blind!”
GARY GERALD: “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the XIX World Champion, Marcus Uriah Dunne. HIS NAME…IS…MUD!!!”
Marcus makes it to ringside, pulling himself up onto the apron where he turns to face the crowd as his new music blasts throughout the arena. He pushes the hood back off of his head and pulls the mask off of his face, revealing his signature snarl. He unclasps the belt from around his waist and holds it, along with the mask up with a roar before stepping through the ropes and moving to do the same on the other side of the ring, standing up on a turnbuckle this time. As his music fades out, Marcus moves to a corner, sets his mask down and takes the microphone from Gary Gerald.
KYLE CASSIDY: “Champ’s got something to say.”
ADAM LARUE: “So shut up and let him talk! Jeez, you’re rude.”
MUD: “BOTH OF YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!!”
Marcus yells over the top rope at the commentary team, startling both men into silence before he turns back towards the ring and the cameras, bringing the XIX World Title up to rest on his shoulder.
MUD: “Now then…I ain’t one for long winded speeches. That’s why I had a manager who liked to talk when I boxed. But finding a good manager in wrestling is like looking for a fucking parking spot at Wal-Mart. The best ones are taken and the only ones left, well THEY AIN’T SHIT!! So motherfuckers gotta sit here and listen to me now.”
Marcus cracks his neck to the side. Maybe it’s a twitch. We may never be sure which one, exactly. He turns towards the crowd directly and grips the belt on his shoulder.
MUD: “Last month, I went through multiple - I say again - MULTIPLE motherfuckers just to get my rocks off and kick some ass. It’s all I came here to do. I didn’t give a shit about prizes when I signed to XIX. I didn’t give a fuck about titles…”
He looks down at his shoulder to the World Championship then back up.
MUD: “But I got one, didn’t I? And over the last month, I gotta admit, I’ve gotten used to carrying this thing around with me, everywhere I go. So much to the point, that I don’t think I’ll be letting anybody else carry it anytime soon. SO!!!”
Marcus turns towards the stage, sneering again.
MUD: “Big fish backstage says he’s gonna choose the first piece of meat to wind up on a fucking slab, well I got a better idea. How about you let me throw down the gauntlet to someone who actually deserves a crack in the skull instead of paying some local talent $500 to get his shit rocked?! Here’s the fucking gauntlet…”
With that, Marcus takes the World Title and lays it out on the mat at his feet like the proverbial line in the sand as he faces the stage.
MUD: “I want…the meanest…the coldest…the baddest bitch sitting backstage to come out here and throw everything she’s got at me. You gave a little bit at Return Of The Mack.”
He brings up his other hand, holding his thumb and index fingers about an inch apart.
MUD: “Just a little bit. I want the whole goddamn spread! Not the Preacher man! Not the kid! Not the fucking supporter of Roe vs Wade being overturned! I want…the REAL Ice Queen…I want…the ICE EMPEROR!!!!!!”
The crowd pops as Marcus leans forward, bracing his hand on his knee and roars into the microphone.
MUD: “HARUKA FUKUHARA!!!!!! GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE!!!!! LET’S SEE IF THIS FUCKING CROWN FITS!!!!”
He throws the microphone out of the ring and starts pulling his entrance gear off. He throws it into a mess in the corner, grabs up the World Title from the mat, walks to the same corner he threw his gear in, plops down on his ass against the turnbuckle and waits…
♫♫The voices in my head keep on telling me to pray
'Cause I'm spinning like a carousel, circling the drain
Hit the bottom of the bottle, I don't wanna feel the pain
But that is all I got for now, I don't wanna talk about it
The voices in my head keep on begging me to stay
If I pull the trigger now then the demons go away
And I know my time is coming so there ain't no time to waste
So that is all I got for now, I don't wanna talk about it♫♫
'Cause I'm spinning like a carousel, circling the drain
Hit the bottom of the bottle, I don't wanna feel the pain
But that is all I got for now, I don't wanna talk about it
The voices in my head keep on begging me to stay
If I pull the trigger now then the demons go away
And I know my time is coming so there ain't no time to waste
So that is all I got for now, I don't wanna talk about it♫♫
KYLE CASSIDY: “Ho-now! What’s going on here?”
ADAM LARUE: “Someone’s cutting into our main event window, that’s what! Who the hell has the nerve?!”
The lights on the stage begin to flicker violently as Falling In Reverse’s “The Voices In My Head” starts building to a heavy crescendo.
♫♫The voices in my head keep telling me to choose a side
It's heaven or hell like it's do or die
I'm a sad boy, you know better
Please don't make this last forever♫♫
It's heaven or hell like it's do or die
I'm a sad boy, you know better
Please don't make this last forever♫♫
ADAM LARUE: “Kyle, did we have a debut scheduled?”
KYLE CASSIDY: “The Commissioner did say there would be a mystery challenger of his choosing for the XIX World Championship. Maybe we’re about to meet them?”
♫♫The voices in my head keep telling me I'm not okay
It's feeling like a hurricane in my brain
Dark clouds, hard times, bad weather
Please don't make this last forever!!!!♫♫
It's feeling like a hurricane in my brain
Dark clouds, hard times, bad weather
Please don't make this last forever!!!!♫♫
As soon as the chorus hits with the heavy guitar, the stage lights come on, revealing XIX World Champion, Marcus Uriah Dunne standing in the entrance smoke. His LED mask flickering within the haze. The crowd gives a pop as he slowly raises his fists in the air. Marcus throws down his arms and starts towards the ring, storming down the ramp with the World Title strapped around his waist.
KYLE CASSIDY: “Oh shit, it’s the champion himself, Adam!”
ADAM LARUE: “Well, I can see that! I’m not blind!”
GARY GERALD: “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the XIX World Champion, Marcus Uriah Dunne. HIS NAME…IS…MUD!!!”
Marcus makes it to ringside, pulling himself up onto the apron where he turns to face the crowd as his new music blasts throughout the arena. He pushes the hood back off of his head and pulls the mask off of his face, revealing his signature snarl. He unclasps the belt from around his waist and holds it, along with the mask up with a roar before stepping through the ropes and moving to do the same on the other side of the ring, standing up on a turnbuckle this time. As his music fades out, Marcus moves to a corner, sets his mask down and takes the microphone from Gary Gerald.
KYLE CASSIDY: “Champ’s got something to say.”
ADAM LARUE: “So shut up and let him talk! Jeez, you’re rude.”
MUD: “BOTH OF YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!!”
Marcus yells over the top rope at the commentary team, startling both men into silence before he turns back towards the ring and the cameras, bringing the XIX World Title up to rest on his shoulder.
MUD: “Now then…I ain’t one for long winded speeches. That’s why I had a manager who liked to talk when I boxed. But finding a good manager in wrestling is like looking for a fucking parking spot at Wal-Mart. The best ones are taken and the only ones left, well THEY AIN’T SHIT!! So motherfuckers gotta sit here and listen to me now.”
Marcus cracks his neck to the side. Maybe it’s a twitch. We may never be sure which one, exactly. He turns towards the crowd directly and grips the belt on his shoulder.
MUD: “Last month, I went through multiple - I say again - MULTIPLE motherfuckers just to get my rocks off and kick some ass. It’s all I came here to do. I didn’t give a shit about prizes when I signed to XIX. I didn’t give a fuck about titles…”
He looks down at his shoulder to the World Championship then back up.
MUD: “But I got one, didn’t I? And over the last month, I gotta admit, I’ve gotten used to carrying this thing around with me, everywhere I go. So much to the point, that I don’t think I’ll be letting anybody else carry it anytime soon. SO!!!”
Marcus turns towards the stage, sneering again.
MUD: “Big fish backstage says he’s gonna choose the first piece of meat to wind up on a fucking slab, well I got a better idea. How about you let me throw down the gauntlet to someone who actually deserves a crack in the skull instead of paying some local talent $500 to get his shit rocked?! Here’s the fucking gauntlet…”
With that, Marcus takes the World Title and lays it out on the mat at his feet like the proverbial line in the sand as he faces the stage.
MUD: “I want…the meanest…the coldest…the baddest bitch sitting backstage to come out here and throw everything she’s got at me. You gave a little bit at Return Of The Mack.”
He brings up his other hand, holding his thumb and index fingers about an inch apart.
MUD: “Just a little bit. I want the whole goddamn spread! Not the Preacher man! Not the kid! Not the fucking supporter of Roe vs Wade being overturned! I want…the REAL Ice Queen…I want…the ICE EMPEROR!!!!!!”
The crowd pops as Marcus leans forward, bracing his hand on his knee and roars into the microphone.
MUD: “HARUKA FUKUHARA!!!!!! GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE!!!!! LET’S SEE IF THIS FUCKING CROWN FITS!!!!”
He throws the microphone out of the ring and starts pulling his entrance gear off. He throws it into a mess in the corner, grabs up the World Title from the mat, walks to the same corner he threw his gear in, plops down on his ass against the turnbuckle and waits…