Post by Kasey Kash on Nov 21, 2022 6:04:26 GMT
Marcus Uriah Dunne is found backstage in the arena, secluded away from the general populace. The XIX World Championship hangs on display over a chain link fence behind him. The champ looks ready to go, already geared up, anxious to get inside a ring and wreak some carnage. He rubs his taped hands together anxiously as he paces back and forth.
MUD: “Here we go again…second verse, same as the first– no, no…”
He stops and counts his fingers on his hand, recalling the past.
MUD: “Third verse? Yeah, third verse. Haruka. Ozborn. Now Thompson. Trinity Thompson.”
He stops his pacing and snaps his head towards the camera, leaning in slightly.
MUD: “We’re gonna have some fun in that ring, kiddo. I’m not gonna make any promises on the outcome. Nothing’s sure in life. I learned that the hard way. I was sure I was gonna be the next big thing in boxing. That didn’t happen. I was sure I wasn’t ever gonna make it out of prison, but it happened. I was sure I wasn’t gonna make anything of wrestling…but it happened. I was sure…I was positive…I was ONE-HUNDRED-FUCKING-PERCENT-CERTAIN…that I wasn’t gonna be the guy to ever hold a world title in this business, but lo and behold…”
He steps back from the camera, turns and pulls the championship down from the fence. Marcus hangs it over his shoulder as he turns back to the camera and slaps the face plate on it.
MUD: “...IT FUCKING HAPPENED!!”
His voice rings through the empty, backstage room as he seethes through his teeth, breathing heavily with what always seems to be perpetual, boiling rage every time he’s in front of a production crew.
MUD: “I came here to fight. I came here to hurt. I came here to kick some ass and that is EXACTLY what I’ve done since I laced up these boots on my feet. That is EXACTLY what I have done since I put these wraps on my fists. I didn’t come here giving a shit about titles or trophies but at the same time? What’s mine is mine and I fight to defend it. I went through some of the meanest motherfuckers on the roster to win this and since then, I’ve been running through royalty like a rebellious mongrel who just doesn’t give a shit. I’ve cut down an Emperor…Empress? Whatever the fuck she calls herself, now. I went to war with the chaotic Queen of Queens herself. Now here we are Trinity. Princess. You and me.”
Marcus snorts and shakes his head, collecting himself some.
MUD: “I ain’t here to shit on you, kid. You’re young. You got dreams. You got heart. Shit, you may be the youngest one on this goddamn roster. I’m one of if not the oldest motherfucker here. We’re like polar opposites. You’ve got nothing to lose, if this doesn’t go your way. I’ve got damn near everything to lose if it doesn’t go mine. You’ve got further to go in your career. For fuck’s sake, you could take this shit right here and fucking run with it for miles!”
He brandishes the XIX World Title from his shoulder, showing it to the camera before setting it back over his shoulder.
MUD: “But if you’re gonna do that, Trinity, you gotta do what nobody else has done in this company. You’ve. Gotta get. Through. Me. I said it before, I’ll say it a-fucking-gain. Jessi Ozborne was the toughest bitch I’ve had to defend this title against. Few moments went by in that match, I thought that was gonna be it. But here I am, STILL ON FUCKING TOP! So, if you got any prayer in the world of taking this title off of me, kiddo, just remember what I said: you’re gonna have to fucking BRING IT! You’re gonna have to come at me with everything you know and then some. You’re gonna have to think outside the box. You’re gonna have to hit me harder than Jessi Ozborne did because that kid nearly rocked my goddamn jaw off and I’m still lugging this target around. It’s a target I’ll carry around until someone’s able to take the weight off my back.”
With that, Marcus flips the belt around, hanging it over his shoulder, down behind him, holding onto the strap. He turns his back to the camera, displaying the title to viewers. His other arm extends out to the side.
MUD: “It’s right here Trinity. And anyone in XIX, should things go the same way they have been. It’s right. Fucking. Here. Target on my back. Line up your sights. Take your best fucking shot. Make it count though…”
He looks over his shoulder, glaring at the camera.
MUD: “...because you only get one.”
Finally, he turns towards the camera again, snarling rabidly as he growls through his teeth.
MUD: “And you better…not…fucking…MISS!”
Marcus leans back, out of the cameraman’s personal bubble as the shot starts to fade with him heading out towards the main part of the arena, still carrying the XIX World Title across his back.
MUD: “Here we go again…second verse, same as the first– no, no…”
He stops and counts his fingers on his hand, recalling the past.
MUD: “Third verse? Yeah, third verse. Haruka. Ozborn. Now Thompson. Trinity Thompson.”
He stops his pacing and snaps his head towards the camera, leaning in slightly.
MUD: “We’re gonna have some fun in that ring, kiddo. I’m not gonna make any promises on the outcome. Nothing’s sure in life. I learned that the hard way. I was sure I was gonna be the next big thing in boxing. That didn’t happen. I was sure I wasn’t ever gonna make it out of prison, but it happened. I was sure I wasn’t gonna make anything of wrestling…but it happened. I was sure…I was positive…I was ONE-HUNDRED-FUCKING-PERCENT-CERTAIN…that I wasn’t gonna be the guy to ever hold a world title in this business, but lo and behold…”
He steps back from the camera, turns and pulls the championship down from the fence. Marcus hangs it over his shoulder as he turns back to the camera and slaps the face plate on it.
MUD: “...IT FUCKING HAPPENED!!”
His voice rings through the empty, backstage room as he seethes through his teeth, breathing heavily with what always seems to be perpetual, boiling rage every time he’s in front of a production crew.
MUD: “I came here to fight. I came here to hurt. I came here to kick some ass and that is EXACTLY what I’ve done since I laced up these boots on my feet. That is EXACTLY what I have done since I put these wraps on my fists. I didn’t come here giving a shit about titles or trophies but at the same time? What’s mine is mine and I fight to defend it. I went through some of the meanest motherfuckers on the roster to win this and since then, I’ve been running through royalty like a rebellious mongrel who just doesn’t give a shit. I’ve cut down an Emperor…Empress? Whatever the fuck she calls herself, now. I went to war with the chaotic Queen of Queens herself. Now here we are Trinity. Princess. You and me.”
Marcus snorts and shakes his head, collecting himself some.
MUD: “I ain’t here to shit on you, kid. You’re young. You got dreams. You got heart. Shit, you may be the youngest one on this goddamn roster. I’m one of if not the oldest motherfucker here. We’re like polar opposites. You’ve got nothing to lose, if this doesn’t go your way. I’ve got damn near everything to lose if it doesn’t go mine. You’ve got further to go in your career. For fuck’s sake, you could take this shit right here and fucking run with it for miles!”
He brandishes the XIX World Title from his shoulder, showing it to the camera before setting it back over his shoulder.
MUD: “But if you’re gonna do that, Trinity, you gotta do what nobody else has done in this company. You’ve. Gotta get. Through. Me. I said it before, I’ll say it a-fucking-gain. Jessi Ozborne was the toughest bitch I’ve had to defend this title against. Few moments went by in that match, I thought that was gonna be it. But here I am, STILL ON FUCKING TOP! So, if you got any prayer in the world of taking this title off of me, kiddo, just remember what I said: you’re gonna have to fucking BRING IT! You’re gonna have to come at me with everything you know and then some. You’re gonna have to think outside the box. You’re gonna have to hit me harder than Jessi Ozborne did because that kid nearly rocked my goddamn jaw off and I’m still lugging this target around. It’s a target I’ll carry around until someone’s able to take the weight off my back.”
With that, Marcus flips the belt around, hanging it over his shoulder, down behind him, holding onto the strap. He turns his back to the camera, displaying the title to viewers. His other arm extends out to the side.
MUD: “It’s right here Trinity. And anyone in XIX, should things go the same way they have been. It’s right. Fucking. Here. Target on my back. Line up your sights. Take your best fucking shot. Make it count though…”
He looks over his shoulder, glaring at the camera.
MUD: “...because you only get one.”
Finally, he turns towards the camera again, snarling rabidly as he growls through his teeth.
MUD: “And you better…not…fucking…MISS!”
Marcus leans back, out of the cameraman’s personal bubble as the shot starts to fade with him heading out towards the main part of the arena, still carrying the XIX World Title across his back.