Post by Mad Mumf on Jul 16, 2013 22:53:30 GMT -4
*Monday night was a good beginning for Mad Mumf. His first victory at the last Meltdown will be a footnote in the history of the company and made a statement, though be it a small one. The blemish, however, is that the triple threat match eventually turned into essentially a one-on-one competition when Joseph Johnson opted out of the match, seemingly preferring self preservation. It was a fact that Mumf appeared to be not entirely pleased with if his expression when pinning Anthony Washington was any indicator. Whether it will be a continued issue for the former RWF World Champion or whether he decides to move onto it to the next target remains to be seen.*
*However, it appears that he will not have to wait long for said target. It comes only days after the Meltdown finale in the form of a man named Dirk who calls himself Cold Blooded. The irony there will likely not be lost on Mumf, nor will his upcoming opponent's words.*
*He may have overcome his first obstacle and performed well given the fact that he has been out of the ring for several years, but there are plenty more to come. The next obstacle appears ready for him and desires to make a statement of his own. It is the next in a line of countless obstacles on the endless road to greatness, a road that Mad Mumf has begun to walk once more...*
*The scene opens to the hallway of an oceanfront house on the eastern end of Long Island. The lights are off, but the sunlight filtering through the windows show that nobody has been home for a while. There's a think layer of dust on the few end tables lining the hallway, and a slightly thicker layer on the multiple titles from several federations, more than one RWF World Heavyweight Title among them, representing each time he held the championship. As the camera pans along the line of titles on the shelf, the halway's lights pop on and the front door closes. Adam Mumford, the monster known as Mad Mumf enters the house, clad in a pair of tan cargo shorts, a plain black t-shirt, and a pair of skate shoes. He drops his keys on one of the tables and motions at the camera. While walking along the hallway, a manila folder in his hand.*
Mad Mumf - Come with me. You're looking at plenty of history on that wall but I think another type of history lesson is in order. There's been a few assumptions about my past over the last few days, so I think some clarification is in order.
*The camera follows Mumf into the kitchen where he sits down at a table and drops a manila folder on the surface before flipping it open. On first glance, the most notable features are several red stamps on one page and lines of text blacked out as if by a sharpie. Mumf gestures to the folder and its contents.*
Mad Mumf - What you see in front of me is the parts of my military and government affiliated career that has been declassified. Everything you see that's blacked out or obscured is still privileged information. Initially I was going to ignore the comments about my service time since it was just commentator speculation. Then Dirk decided to start running his mouth. Let me be absolutely clear before I go into any of what I'm about to discuss with all of you. I don't owe anybody an explanation about my time or what I did or why I was discharged. Not you, Dirk. Not the play by play guys. Not even the human resource department. I'm here to fight. I'm not here to talk about the past.
The thing is, if there's one thing I can't stand it's speculation base off of virtually non-existent fact. Deriving conclusions from limited information is not only foolish, but it's dangerous. And when it's people making assumptions about me, well then it just pisses me the hell off.
*He points to the first paper in the limited pile.*
These are my discharge papers. Even parts of them are still blacked out, as you can see. However, what you might notice is that it's an honorable discharge with full honors for exemplary performance. I did my job better than anyone they had ever trained prior to me, and most of the ones they trained afterwards. There was no issue there. Nor was there ever an issue with the orders I was given.
*He pauses to flip to another page.*
There was, however, an issue with a certain change in...management in our particular organization. I can't tell you what branch of the military I was in for two reasons. One, because I'm not allowed. Two, because I was part of a group that occasionally superseded any specific branch of the military. When I first accepted my relocation from my initial rank and file from a military branch to this group it was under the impression that we would be the military's best taking out bad men that deserved it, whether on solo missions or as a team. It was extremely covert. We didn't even have a uniform. The people I killed or captured were tyrants, dictators, murderers, international criminals. People who deserved it. Our organization was unique in that we were always given the opportunity to do background on our targets, make sure that the reasons behind the attack were legitimate and that it wasn't simply for political gain. We were given free rein in such a way that it developed into, perhaps, one of the greatest systems of checks and balances that could ever be used in the military.
Then came the new management. They started making wholesale changes from day 1. It should have been a red flag for most of us, but we decided to give it a chance since some of our checks and balances were still in place. Then members of the organization were replaced with people who had less qualms about the work they did. See where this is going yet?
*Mumf turns to a page with a generous amount of ink, both red and black with certain sentences and details that are not blacked out circled in the same black sharpie.*
It all came to head on a team operation. We were given our target and did our research. Our orders were more simple than some had been since the new management had taken over. We figured our suggestions and protests had been heard and that perhaps things were changing for the better. The target was absolute trash. Slave-runner, dictator, tyrant. You name it, and he had checked it off his list of bad things to do. Simple. Go in, get rid of the target, get out. Mind you at the time, this guy was a few footsteps away from being in charge of his entire country. Come mission-time, a rebellion broke out. Insurgents were more numerous than they had ever been. It was the perfect timing. Thing is, apparently, the political agenda of someone in management or higher up changed the moment our feet hit the ground. Suddenly, it was more beneficial to make nice with bad guy numero uno. The right politicos could profit more from a friendship with a scumbag. Our orders went from dealing with this guy to taking his insurgent opponent's son hostage and delivering it to him. If the insurgent leader or his wife got in the way in the process, we were to "eliminate" all three, thus dealing with the insurgence and firmly securing the original target in his own position of power. We got as far as the insurgent leader's home before putting it to a vote outside his back door. With the exception of the more recent staff, we all voted to abort. Something stunk about this mission and we were going to exercise our option to not get our hands dirty.
We returned home and management wasn't exactly pleased. We reminded them of the point of our checks and balances and in more military appropriate terms, told them to go sit on a big fat one. Management backed down. See, unlike original management, they were the only ones in the entire organization at this point who were pencil pushers and desk jockeys. They had never even seen live military field action. People with military experience were replaced by way of nepotism with guys solely with political agendas and no desire to do what was right. The organization fell apart after that, but the powers that be chose to recognize the immense contributions that we had made for our country and even the choices we made on that final mission despite orders. Much of this came courtesy of members of original management who were still in or had been elevated to higher positions of power and had managed to relay word to the real higher ups.
The one request made of us in return for the honors that were bestowed upon us and the healthy severance package was that we respect that large portions of our mission documentation and details regarding them be highly classified due to national security. I think that's a reasonable request considering the impact leaked information can have when it falls into the wrong hands. I had to pull some favors just to get permission to have some of these details declassified as it is. I've been careful, however, to be vague, as was also requested of me.
So, you see, Dirk, life is not always about blindly following ones path. It sure as hell didn't work for the German army during World War II. The statement, "I was only following orders," is not a valid excuse for performing horrific acts on innocent people. I didn't owe you an explanation, but I figured it might be a good time to show that even I have standards. Even I have rules and checks on when I let the monster inside of me take control and do unspeakable things. I don't harm innocent lives. I've defended them my share of times in fact.
One thing I have never claimed to be, however is a hero. Nor have I ever stated that I was a role model. I don't think people should idolize or look up to somebody whose sole desire in life is to hurt the next person he gets to face in the ring. And I make no bones about it, that is exactly what I desire. Night in and night out, my big need, my hunger is to step between those ropes, size somebody up, and then hurt them. I found, after getting out of that line of work and enjoying that severance package and wisely investing it into various holdings, that the world of professional wrestling was a terrific outlet for the bloodthirsty, calculating, savage, mean spirited son of a bitch that I become when I'm ready to set my sights on a target. Unlike out in the "real world," however, I don't need to discriminate on who that target is. Here, no matter who is set before me, I can come after and do my damnedest to hurt, maim, and disfigure. It's legal violence. That's the joy of this business.
Yesterday at Meltdown was a small sampling of what I am capable of doing. I am resilient, stubborn, and able to adapt on a moment's notice. You want to talk about being Cold Blooded. Son, you don't even know the meaning of the term. I have fought men and women tooth and nail without an ounce of remorse in arenas the world over. I have been attacked repeatedly only to come back for more because I had not yet finished what I set out to do to the person involved. I said last week that once I set my eyes on a target or when one is set before me, I will not stop until I have achieved the desired outcome, usually something involving pain and/or bloodshed.
I hope you don't think for a moment that I'm worried about getting in your way or what you are capable of doing to me. I acknowledge that you may have some fight in you. I acknowledge that you may be skilled and calculating. What I don't acknowledge, however, is the idea that you could beat me in that ring. The idea of you handing me an ass kicking is laughable. I have been beaten, broken, and pummeled by the likes of which you have yet to see in this business and come back for more with a rabid fury.
You think you're going to come out to that ring on Thursday night and hand me an ass kicking. Maybe you weren't paying attention one night ago when I made my debut on the grand finale of one of this company's flagship shows and fought off not one, but two men to claim my first victory. Maybe you weren't paying attention when, despite being attacked left and right, the man you're looking at now still had his hand raised in the ring. Maybe you weren't paying attention when Anthony Washington found his head planted into the mat courtesy of the Death Sentence or his ribs crushed courtesy of the first ever Death From Above. Dirk, you've got no idea what you're getting yourself into and your words are going to bring that much more pain and torment down on you by adding fuel to the fire. I am Mad Mumf like my fans have never seen before. I have never been this slim. I have never been this adaptive. I have never been this hungry for violence. I've had a taste and I want MORE!
I need the thrill of destroying the sorry souls who try to stop me! I need the thrill of hearing them scream in pain! I need the thrill of your body lifeless on the mat, your hope for a grand debut dashed to nothingness courtesy of yours truly.
Cold Nightmares and destroyed dreams indeed...
There will be plenty to go around I'm sure, but this time at the very least, the helping may be served to the man who is touting them as though they were his specialty. I hope to all the gods in this world and the next, the four winds, whatever deity there is in existence that you find out the hard way just what Mad Mumf is all about and that you get the beating of a life time.
Cold nightmares and destroyed dreams. Tell me something, Dirk. How have you dreamed about this match turning out. Have you dreamed about making an impact. Making a name for yourself, showing just how amazing you are by beating a former world champion? Using that little tagline of yours and making it "get cold" by beating me in any way you can? Dirk, I am about to more than destroy your dreams. I am going to shatter them. I am going to obliterate them beyond recognition. By the time I am done with you, you will feel the incessant need to re-evaluate your stance on who you are, what you're capable of, and whether or not you can hack it in this business.
The only thing that that will run cold, Dirk is your blood when you realize that you cannot stand against me. You cannot hold your own against the onslaught I can bring. Your blood will run cold until that decisive moment when your entire body lies cold and lifeless in the middle of that ring, a victim of the Death Sentence, Death From Above, or the Execution, fallen to the three count and made simply the next footstep along the trail that leads to ascension in the APW, because you, "Cold Blooded" will NOT survive!
*With that, Mumf turns to one final page in his file, a profile and picture of his opponent listing his name, vitals, and history. The camera zooms towards the area just below the photo, where it reads, "Target Name - Cold Blooded; Status - Pending Elimination," as the scene fades to black.
*However, it appears that he will not have to wait long for said target. It comes only days after the Meltdown finale in the form of a man named Dirk who calls himself Cold Blooded. The irony there will likely not be lost on Mumf, nor will his upcoming opponent's words.*
*He may have overcome his first obstacle and performed well given the fact that he has been out of the ring for several years, but there are plenty more to come. The next obstacle appears ready for him and desires to make a statement of his own. It is the next in a line of countless obstacles on the endless road to greatness, a road that Mad Mumf has begun to walk once more...*
*The scene opens to the hallway of an oceanfront house on the eastern end of Long Island. The lights are off, but the sunlight filtering through the windows show that nobody has been home for a while. There's a think layer of dust on the few end tables lining the hallway, and a slightly thicker layer on the multiple titles from several federations, more than one RWF World Heavyweight Title among them, representing each time he held the championship. As the camera pans along the line of titles on the shelf, the halway's lights pop on and the front door closes. Adam Mumford, the monster known as Mad Mumf enters the house, clad in a pair of tan cargo shorts, a plain black t-shirt, and a pair of skate shoes. He drops his keys on one of the tables and motions at the camera. While walking along the hallway, a manila folder in his hand.*
Mad Mumf - Come with me. You're looking at plenty of history on that wall but I think another type of history lesson is in order. There's been a few assumptions about my past over the last few days, so I think some clarification is in order.
*The camera follows Mumf into the kitchen where he sits down at a table and drops a manila folder on the surface before flipping it open. On first glance, the most notable features are several red stamps on one page and lines of text blacked out as if by a sharpie. Mumf gestures to the folder and its contents.*
Mad Mumf - What you see in front of me is the parts of my military and government affiliated career that has been declassified. Everything you see that's blacked out or obscured is still privileged information. Initially I was going to ignore the comments about my service time since it was just commentator speculation. Then Dirk decided to start running his mouth. Let me be absolutely clear before I go into any of what I'm about to discuss with all of you. I don't owe anybody an explanation about my time or what I did or why I was discharged. Not you, Dirk. Not the play by play guys. Not even the human resource department. I'm here to fight. I'm not here to talk about the past.
The thing is, if there's one thing I can't stand it's speculation base off of virtually non-existent fact. Deriving conclusions from limited information is not only foolish, but it's dangerous. And when it's people making assumptions about me, well then it just pisses me the hell off.
*He points to the first paper in the limited pile.*
These are my discharge papers. Even parts of them are still blacked out, as you can see. However, what you might notice is that it's an honorable discharge with full honors for exemplary performance. I did my job better than anyone they had ever trained prior to me, and most of the ones they trained afterwards. There was no issue there. Nor was there ever an issue with the orders I was given.
*He pauses to flip to another page.*
There was, however, an issue with a certain change in...management in our particular organization. I can't tell you what branch of the military I was in for two reasons. One, because I'm not allowed. Two, because I was part of a group that occasionally superseded any specific branch of the military. When I first accepted my relocation from my initial rank and file from a military branch to this group it was under the impression that we would be the military's best taking out bad men that deserved it, whether on solo missions or as a team. It was extremely covert. We didn't even have a uniform. The people I killed or captured were tyrants, dictators, murderers, international criminals. People who deserved it. Our organization was unique in that we were always given the opportunity to do background on our targets, make sure that the reasons behind the attack were legitimate and that it wasn't simply for political gain. We were given free rein in such a way that it developed into, perhaps, one of the greatest systems of checks and balances that could ever be used in the military.
Then came the new management. They started making wholesale changes from day 1. It should have been a red flag for most of us, but we decided to give it a chance since some of our checks and balances were still in place. Then members of the organization were replaced with people who had less qualms about the work they did. See where this is going yet?
*Mumf turns to a page with a generous amount of ink, both red and black with certain sentences and details that are not blacked out circled in the same black sharpie.*
It all came to head on a team operation. We were given our target and did our research. Our orders were more simple than some had been since the new management had taken over. We figured our suggestions and protests had been heard and that perhaps things were changing for the better. The target was absolute trash. Slave-runner, dictator, tyrant. You name it, and he had checked it off his list of bad things to do. Simple. Go in, get rid of the target, get out. Mind you at the time, this guy was a few footsteps away from being in charge of his entire country. Come mission-time, a rebellion broke out. Insurgents were more numerous than they had ever been. It was the perfect timing. Thing is, apparently, the political agenda of someone in management or higher up changed the moment our feet hit the ground. Suddenly, it was more beneficial to make nice with bad guy numero uno. The right politicos could profit more from a friendship with a scumbag. Our orders went from dealing with this guy to taking his insurgent opponent's son hostage and delivering it to him. If the insurgent leader or his wife got in the way in the process, we were to "eliminate" all three, thus dealing with the insurgence and firmly securing the original target in his own position of power. We got as far as the insurgent leader's home before putting it to a vote outside his back door. With the exception of the more recent staff, we all voted to abort. Something stunk about this mission and we were going to exercise our option to not get our hands dirty.
We returned home and management wasn't exactly pleased. We reminded them of the point of our checks and balances and in more military appropriate terms, told them to go sit on a big fat one. Management backed down. See, unlike original management, they were the only ones in the entire organization at this point who were pencil pushers and desk jockeys. They had never even seen live military field action. People with military experience were replaced by way of nepotism with guys solely with political agendas and no desire to do what was right. The organization fell apart after that, but the powers that be chose to recognize the immense contributions that we had made for our country and even the choices we made on that final mission despite orders. Much of this came courtesy of members of original management who were still in or had been elevated to higher positions of power and had managed to relay word to the real higher ups.
The one request made of us in return for the honors that were bestowed upon us and the healthy severance package was that we respect that large portions of our mission documentation and details regarding them be highly classified due to national security. I think that's a reasonable request considering the impact leaked information can have when it falls into the wrong hands. I had to pull some favors just to get permission to have some of these details declassified as it is. I've been careful, however, to be vague, as was also requested of me.
So, you see, Dirk, life is not always about blindly following ones path. It sure as hell didn't work for the German army during World War II. The statement, "I was only following orders," is not a valid excuse for performing horrific acts on innocent people. I didn't owe you an explanation, but I figured it might be a good time to show that even I have standards. Even I have rules and checks on when I let the monster inside of me take control and do unspeakable things. I don't harm innocent lives. I've defended them my share of times in fact.
One thing I have never claimed to be, however is a hero. Nor have I ever stated that I was a role model. I don't think people should idolize or look up to somebody whose sole desire in life is to hurt the next person he gets to face in the ring. And I make no bones about it, that is exactly what I desire. Night in and night out, my big need, my hunger is to step between those ropes, size somebody up, and then hurt them. I found, after getting out of that line of work and enjoying that severance package and wisely investing it into various holdings, that the world of professional wrestling was a terrific outlet for the bloodthirsty, calculating, savage, mean spirited son of a bitch that I become when I'm ready to set my sights on a target. Unlike out in the "real world," however, I don't need to discriminate on who that target is. Here, no matter who is set before me, I can come after and do my damnedest to hurt, maim, and disfigure. It's legal violence. That's the joy of this business.
Yesterday at Meltdown was a small sampling of what I am capable of doing. I am resilient, stubborn, and able to adapt on a moment's notice. You want to talk about being Cold Blooded. Son, you don't even know the meaning of the term. I have fought men and women tooth and nail without an ounce of remorse in arenas the world over. I have been attacked repeatedly only to come back for more because I had not yet finished what I set out to do to the person involved. I said last week that once I set my eyes on a target or when one is set before me, I will not stop until I have achieved the desired outcome, usually something involving pain and/or bloodshed.
I hope you don't think for a moment that I'm worried about getting in your way or what you are capable of doing to me. I acknowledge that you may have some fight in you. I acknowledge that you may be skilled and calculating. What I don't acknowledge, however, is the idea that you could beat me in that ring. The idea of you handing me an ass kicking is laughable. I have been beaten, broken, and pummeled by the likes of which you have yet to see in this business and come back for more with a rabid fury.
You think you're going to come out to that ring on Thursday night and hand me an ass kicking. Maybe you weren't paying attention one night ago when I made my debut on the grand finale of one of this company's flagship shows and fought off not one, but two men to claim my first victory. Maybe you weren't paying attention when, despite being attacked left and right, the man you're looking at now still had his hand raised in the ring. Maybe you weren't paying attention when Anthony Washington found his head planted into the mat courtesy of the Death Sentence or his ribs crushed courtesy of the first ever Death From Above. Dirk, you've got no idea what you're getting yourself into and your words are going to bring that much more pain and torment down on you by adding fuel to the fire. I am Mad Mumf like my fans have never seen before. I have never been this slim. I have never been this adaptive. I have never been this hungry for violence. I've had a taste and I want MORE!
I need the thrill of destroying the sorry souls who try to stop me! I need the thrill of hearing them scream in pain! I need the thrill of your body lifeless on the mat, your hope for a grand debut dashed to nothingness courtesy of yours truly.
Cold Nightmares and destroyed dreams indeed...
There will be plenty to go around I'm sure, but this time at the very least, the helping may be served to the man who is touting them as though they were his specialty. I hope to all the gods in this world and the next, the four winds, whatever deity there is in existence that you find out the hard way just what Mad Mumf is all about and that you get the beating of a life time.
Cold nightmares and destroyed dreams. Tell me something, Dirk. How have you dreamed about this match turning out. Have you dreamed about making an impact. Making a name for yourself, showing just how amazing you are by beating a former world champion? Using that little tagline of yours and making it "get cold" by beating me in any way you can? Dirk, I am about to more than destroy your dreams. I am going to shatter them. I am going to obliterate them beyond recognition. By the time I am done with you, you will feel the incessant need to re-evaluate your stance on who you are, what you're capable of, and whether or not you can hack it in this business.
The only thing that that will run cold, Dirk is your blood when you realize that you cannot stand against me. You cannot hold your own against the onslaught I can bring. Your blood will run cold until that decisive moment when your entire body lies cold and lifeless in the middle of that ring, a victim of the Death Sentence, Death From Above, or the Execution, fallen to the three count and made simply the next footstep along the trail that leads to ascension in the APW, because you, "Cold Blooded" will NOT survive!
*With that, Mumf turns to one final page in his file, a profile and picture of his opponent listing his name, vitals, and history. The camera zooms towards the area just below the photo, where it reads, "Target Name - Cold Blooded; Status - Pending Elimination," as the scene fades to black.
