Post by Mad Mumf on Aug 7, 2013 0:22:15 GMT -4
*Early morning, Tuesday, August 06, 2013 on the eastern end of Long Island, NY. The rising sun is just creeping through the windows of a large house separated from the ocean by a stretch of sand, and at first, not a sound is to be heard inside. Until we see a figure starting to stir in the morning shadows. As the camera moves its way further into the house we see Mad Mumf walking through the house surprisingly early for an off day. He makes his way through the living room where Ryan appears to have fallen asleep on the couch rather than the guest room that was set aside for him. His duffle bag is on the floor and its contents are strewn about its radius. Mumf smirks and shakes his head before moving along to the kitchen.*
*Still in that half-awake haze, he stumbles his way to the fridge and pulls out a carton of milk, setting it on the counter. It’s soon joined by a large bottle of spring water, and a bottle of orange juice. He kicks the fridge door closed and moves to a nearby coffee machine. He pushes a button and the machine works it’s single serving magic, filling up an already strategically placed mug with caffeinated goodness. He finally turns around and realizes he’s not even alone in the kitchen when he sees that Ivy’s sitting at the table flipping through a newspaper with a smirk on her face at the fact that the former world champion is obviously unaccustomed to living in a house with other people anymore. He looks down and realizes he’s wearing nothing but a pair of his athletic shorts. He’s not the only one, however, since Ivy’s sitting at the table in nothing but an oversized shirt, boy short undies, and a pair of slouch socks.*
*They both let the mutual smart assed remarks pass, neither of them fully awake as Mumf settles down at the table, his daze slowly fading with each passing sip of coffee. In mid-drink, he reaches out to the basket in the middle of the table, not entirely sure where it even came from, but plucking a piece of fruit from it, inspecting it and polishing it before he even stops taking a generous drink from his coffee. Finally he bites into the apple and looks at Ivy.*
Mumf – You’re up early.
Ivy – I could say the same to you.
*Mumf chuckles and shrugs noncommittally.*
Mumf – I figured I’d sneak out and get some training done before you guys got up. I’ve been slacking a bit more than I’d like and need to keep the rust away. I’ve lost two matches in a row and that’s not acceptable.
Ivy – To be fair, they were tough matches against top competitors, Adam. You’re still learning the landscape against new opponents. When’s the last time you could say you had to do that?
Mumf – You know me. I don’t make excuses and that’s too much like an excuse. Anything less than a good fight and hopefully a win doesn’t satisfy me.
Ivy – You did have a good fight, though.
Mumf – I did, but the road’s not going to get any easier, and I don’t want this losing streak to end up prolonged. I’ve got another member of the Black Hand this week, and I’m starting to see a pattern. If that’s right I need to get some momentum before I start getting that group’s attention more than I really want.
Ivy – Do you think things are going to escalate with the Black Hand and you?
Mumf – I’m not sure yet, but I’m planning for everything, as you well know from the conversations we’ve had this last week. I’m curious though, what are YOU doing up so early. I figured after the road schedule you’ve had in the indie feds lately, you’d be catching up on all the sleep you could.
*Mumf pauses and takes a sip of his coffee, draining it as Ivy seems to consider whether or not to answer or evade the question. He gives her a few seconds more to think while he gets up and puts the mug in the sink and pours himself a glass of orange juice, returning the bottle to the fridge. When he sits down, he looks at her expectantly. Ivy sighs and looks at Mumf.*
Ivy – I’ve got a lot on my mind.
Mumf – I’m all ears if you want to talk about it.
Ivy – Do you remember my ex, Jason? The guy who used to run with one of the feds you were in with me?
*Mumf nods and drinks his orange juice as he listens.*
Mumf – The one with the anger issues?
Ivy – The one and the same. Well, we ended up in another company together a while back and he seemed to have mellowed out, so I figured I’d give him another chance. Turns out he didn’t mellow out. He just figured out how to put up a better front until he starts getting involved with someone. He tried to take a swing at me, and I ended up leveling him. He tried to come at me and Ryan ended up hearing the raised voices and kicked his ass.
Mumf – He never mentioned any of this to me.
Ivy – You were kind of busy at the time, and you had a lot on your mind. I don’t think he wanted to add to it. Besides, I told him not to mention it. Last thing you needed was the drama of an old flame being dropped in your lap.
Mumf – You know I never turn my back on a friend if they need me. That’s always gone without saying, whether we’re dating or not. But I’m assuming there’s more to this story if we’re having this conversation. It wouldn’t warrant mentioning if there wasn’t.
Ivy – You’re a keen observer. I guess he caught me on TV and found out through some friends that I’m back on the Island. He managed to get my number and has been texting me, leaving voice mails for me, and downright stalking me. If he knew where I was staying I’m sure he’d end up over here too, but thankfully your address isn’t listed. There’s not many people who scare me, but that dude and his ‘roid raging ass is one of them.
*Mumf nods and sits in silence for a moment, taking another drink of his orange juice as he thinks.*
Mumf – Isn't he from Long Island?
Ivy – Yeah. He hangs out over in Freeport, and not in the good part by the water, either. Usually surrounds himself with a bunch of thugs and gangbangers in the projects.
Mumf – Jesus, Ivy, you sure know how to pick ‘em.
Ivy – Yeah, well what can I say, when it comes to drama, go big or go home.
*Mumf chuckles and finishes his orange juice and his apple and throws the core in the garbage across the room from where he’s sitting.*
Mumf – Don’t worry about Jason any more than you already have. I’ll deal with him. Once I’m done he won’t be an issue.
Ivy – You don’t have to…
*Mumf holds his hand up for her to stop and interrupts her.*
Mumf – Yes I do. For one, you’re a friend and I protect my friends. For another thing, his bothering you will affect your ability to perform and watch my back, and as things start to heat up, I can’t have that. And for one last thing, it’s my prerogative to be protective. So don’t worry about it.
Ivy – What will you do?
*Mumf grins that knowing, yet somehow dangerous grin.*
Mumf – Oh, I don’t know. I can be pretty persuasive when given a chance to talk. And when not given the chance? I can be pretty persuasive then, too.
Ivy – What about the guys he hangs out with?
Mumf – Ivy, you know who I am. You know my background more than most people in the business, and you know what I’m capable of outside a ring. He won’t be an issue and neither will his friends. In the meantime though, I need to get some training done. Want to come for a run?
*Ivy grins and stands up, sauntering towards her bedroom as if heading back to bed, her hips moving to and fro.*
Ivy – Sure, why not? I’m already awake anyway, so I might as well take advantage of the morning and get a chance to see you all worked up.
*Mumf smirks and shakes his head as Ivy heads into her room to get changed, leaving him to lace up his sneakers as the scene fades out.*
*The scene fades back in with static on the screen followed by a statement and graphic that reads…*
*There’s another moment of momentary static, which abruptly opens to Mumf standing wearing a black hoodie and tattered jeans, standing in front of a housing project in a more urban looking area of Long Island. He’s got a baseball bat resting against his shoulder as he leans against a black 1969 Dodge Charger, a car that definitely looks a little out of place in the neighborhood he’s in.*
Mad Mumf – Things seem to be getting pretty interesting in my life these days, both inside the ring and out. I mean, here I am, about to beat the living crap out of some gangbanger while getting ready to face off yet another member of the Black Hand. I’m starting to notice a pattern, here. It’s a seeming spiraling pattern of violence, which suits me just fine. But I suppose one man’s fight with a bunch of hustlers is another man’s way to train for a fight. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been involved in gang warfare or a fight against several guys at once, and it probably won’t be the last. That goes for inside the ring as well as outside.
Hell, for all I know, the pattern I’m seeing my matches on Overdrive taking could very well lead to another situation just like that. I’m squaring off against yet another member of a wrestling dynasty this week, and another member of the Black Hand. In fact, he’s one of the newer members, from what I’ve seen, but no less capable. Yes, I’m talking about you, Michael Jennings. You seem to have something of a love-hate relationship with this business. I’ve seen your backstage family issues as well, but the good news is, that has nothing to do with me. I’m not one to drag someone’s family into my business unless they get themselves involved. What I am one to do is make sure that I get a good fight out of every opponent I face, and in this case, Michael, that’s you.
Before my first two months are out, I’m starting to feel like I may damn well have ended up facing off against every member of the Black Hand out there if we keep it up at the rate we’re going. Not that I’m complaining, mind you, I want the best the APW has to offer me on a weekly basis so that I can get better, so that I can learn more, and so that I can more aptly ply my trade. In order to do that I need to face every person possible, whether they’re part of a faction, allied with people I’m concerned are going to involve themselves in my matches, or involve themselves with people whose means and methods I find questionable. What it all really boils down to is the fact that I don’t care what gets thrown at me on a weekly basis so long as it’s a challenge. I’ll fight one man, two men, or a whole god damned faction. It doesn’t matter. If it turns into a numbers game though, you better believe, after the first few times, I’m going to strategize and start bringing backup.
We’re not at that point yet, but I’m starting to wonder just what the Black Hand is all about. I see it growing on a nearly weekly basis and, I’m getting told by some that they’re a group of friends watching one another’s backs except, of course, when it comes to the beef, apparently that they have with Evan Envi. Here’s my question. If it’s such a close knit group of friends, how’s it constantly recruiting? You’d think a group like the Black Hand would be a little more selective if they’re that “tight.” I’m not here to question that right now though. Just offering an observation.
You used to be able to distinguish friend from foe so easily in this business. Everyone’s cards were on the table, you knew where their loyalties were, and you know which people you had to watch out for and which you could trust. There was none of this sitting on the fence bullcrap you see from everyone and their cousin. Everyone picked a side, and if you were on the wrong side, god help you. At this point, you’ve got to start wondering if a man would be better off taking the approach that if somebody isn’t part of the solution, they’re part of the problem. Maybe it’s time to stir the pot a bit and add a little mayhem, a little anarchy into the mix.
Don’t think, though, that I’ve forgotten about you, Michael Jennings. You’re the true matter at hand. You’re the point of focus this week, and as befitting somebody who comes from a family of wrestlers, you can handle yourself in that ring quite well. In fact you’ve got quite the angry streak to you. I like that. It poses an interesting theoretical challenge for me. I’d like to see what my calculating and rage fueled strategy can do against someone’s unbridled rage. Maybe you’re just the man to help me test that.
You’ve had an interesting journey to the point you’re at in your career and seem to have drifted away from the clean shaven look you had when I first arrived. It’s an interesting transformation to say the least, and one I’ve experienced myself. The question is, however, if the change is merely cosmetic or if you’ve altered your attitude as well. Is this the same man who burned down a yacht and seemed ready to kill his own father a few weeks ago? Or is this a man who has a fortune at his fingertips and can pretty much do whatever he pleases? Growing out your hair and forgetting to shave doesn’t make you a different man, so I just have to ask. Which man am I getting in the ring this Thursday night?
You’ve had an interesting history, Michael. A very tumultuous one as well that eventually leads to you being part of the Black Hand and dumping your manager for the comfort of a larger faction who you feel will watch your back. You’ve gone from being an anti-hero, a rebel, a fighter, a man who fears nothing, to a man who has the backing of one of the most formidable groups in this company right now. That makes you a dangerous person I suppose. The thing about that is I don’t pay much credence to whether someone else is a danger to me, because I will always pose an equal threat to somebody who confronts me. I may not be the top of the food chain, but I’m pretty damn close, and if there’s something or someone higher than where I am on that chain here in the APW, you can be pretty damn sure that I’ll be making sure that they’re walking away from their meal, bloody, battered, and in seriously bad shape.
I’m not going to be so presumptuous as to say that I’m going to be the biggest challenge you’ve ever faced. You’ve faced a lot of personal demons as well as physical ones in that ring, I’m sure. A singles match against the likes of myself pales in comparison to some of them, I’m sure. What I will tell you is that you will remember this fight and you will walk away, whether you’ve won or lost remembering just who I am and what I can do for the next time you cross my path, whether it be as part of the Black Hand or by yourself. I don’t care who you are or what your history is. I don’t even care about your legacy as part of the Jennings family dynasty. It doesn’t matter to me if you’re a first generation superstar or an eighth. What matters to me, is coming into that ring as Comfort Eagle hits, facing you down, no matter who you’re allied with, and doing what I do best. That being kicking your ass and anyone else’s who sets foot in that ring any time between start and finish and even after that final bell has rung.
I’m not going to lie. I don’t much trust the Black Hand. I’ve heard all the pretty words about how you’re watching each other’s backs and are a brotherhood, but truth is, I don’t trust you, and I damn near feel the need to have someone watching mine when facing a member of your group. I learned a long time ago to take things at face value. I’ve had groups like one called Partners In Crime attack me and waffle my head with a steel chair, courtesy of our own Terry Marvin and my then girlfriend, Kirsta Lewis, as she turned on me and they used me as an example for the formation of their own little faction. So you’ll have to excuse me if I don’t trust your word or Chris Madison’s word on the fact that you’re not going to be like every other faction I’ve seen in this business, and eventually stick its nose into my business and draw my ire and attention. This time I’m going to be proactive though. I will have people watching my back. I’ll have my brother keeping a close eye on things, and he is more than capable. And I may very well go enlist a few other sets of eyes just to be safe. We’ll see.
Those who don’t learn from their past are doomed to repeat it, and I’m not about to repeat the hell I’ve gone through in my years in this business. I said I’ll introduce a little mayhem into this company, and if that’s what it takes to keep my back watched and my ass safe, then so be it. A little anarchy goes a long way. Because I would much rather focus on you, Michael Jennings, than on any of your friends or allies. I want to give you one hundred percent of my attention come Thursday and show you who Mad Mumf is. I may have lost last week to Chris Madison, but I’ll assure you I made a lasting impression. I can and will take anybody in this business to the limit. To their very BRINK of their ability, and even if they end up beating me, they will remember just what they had to deal with to get their hand raised in victory. They’ll know, so long as they didn’t have any outside help, that they earned that victory, but they’ll also know that I’ll have learned a good deal about them from that experience, and that any time thereafter that they come face to face with Mad Mumf, that it will not be a foregone conclusion. There will always be that nagging little bit of doubt in the back of their head as they recall just how taxing it was to face me the previous time, and the knowledge that I have learned more since that time. So remember, my first time through the rotation, even if I lose a few matches, I will be learning more every time I come out to that ring about all of these grand new opponents, adding to my lessons learned, and getting ready for time after time after time, when I will become a constant threat, a more difficult challenge, and eventually, somebody who will and very well should be feared.
You are about to learn, Michael Jennings, that when you step into the ring with Mad Mumf, you will be finding yourself challenged as you have never been challenged before, not just this time, but any time you come up against me. Keep that in mind as you get ready, and remember that you are not facing some green rookie, but a veteran who has been through hell and back and knows how to prepare just as well as you do for a fight that will shake the foundations of that ring. I’ll see you on Thursday. For now, I’ve got some training to do.
*Mumf pushes off from the car and walks away from it towards a group of thugs hanging out by the corner.*
Thug #1: Yo! Get a load of Mr. All-American over here. You’re in the wrong neighborhood homie!
*Mumf doesn’t say a word. His even gaze is similar to the one he carries with him into the ring as the baseball bat remains stationary on his shoulder.*
Mad Mumf – Which one of you little snot nosed assholes is Jason?
*One of the thugs steps forward, wearing gold chains around his neck and already sporting a black eye. He appears heavily muscled and displays some of the obvious signs of steroid use.*
Jason – I am. What’s it to you, punk?
*Mumf just grins that wicked looking grin and without warning swings the bat at Jason’s rib cage. After a moment of shock, his friends try to jump in, the first few with little to no success as Mumf gives them theirs as well as the scene fades to black.*
*Still in that half-awake haze, he stumbles his way to the fridge and pulls out a carton of milk, setting it on the counter. It’s soon joined by a large bottle of spring water, and a bottle of orange juice. He kicks the fridge door closed and moves to a nearby coffee machine. He pushes a button and the machine works it’s single serving magic, filling up an already strategically placed mug with caffeinated goodness. He finally turns around and realizes he’s not even alone in the kitchen when he sees that Ivy’s sitting at the table flipping through a newspaper with a smirk on her face at the fact that the former world champion is obviously unaccustomed to living in a house with other people anymore. He looks down and realizes he’s wearing nothing but a pair of his athletic shorts. He’s not the only one, however, since Ivy’s sitting at the table in nothing but an oversized shirt, boy short undies, and a pair of slouch socks.*
*They both let the mutual smart assed remarks pass, neither of them fully awake as Mumf settles down at the table, his daze slowly fading with each passing sip of coffee. In mid-drink, he reaches out to the basket in the middle of the table, not entirely sure where it even came from, but plucking a piece of fruit from it, inspecting it and polishing it before he even stops taking a generous drink from his coffee. Finally he bites into the apple and looks at Ivy.*
Mumf – You’re up early.
Ivy – I could say the same to you.
*Mumf chuckles and shrugs noncommittally.*
Mumf – I figured I’d sneak out and get some training done before you guys got up. I’ve been slacking a bit more than I’d like and need to keep the rust away. I’ve lost two matches in a row and that’s not acceptable.
Ivy – To be fair, they were tough matches against top competitors, Adam. You’re still learning the landscape against new opponents. When’s the last time you could say you had to do that?
Mumf – You know me. I don’t make excuses and that’s too much like an excuse. Anything less than a good fight and hopefully a win doesn’t satisfy me.
Ivy – You did have a good fight, though.
Mumf – I did, but the road’s not going to get any easier, and I don’t want this losing streak to end up prolonged. I’ve got another member of the Black Hand this week, and I’m starting to see a pattern. If that’s right I need to get some momentum before I start getting that group’s attention more than I really want.
Ivy – Do you think things are going to escalate with the Black Hand and you?
Mumf – I’m not sure yet, but I’m planning for everything, as you well know from the conversations we’ve had this last week. I’m curious though, what are YOU doing up so early. I figured after the road schedule you’ve had in the indie feds lately, you’d be catching up on all the sleep you could.
*Mumf pauses and takes a sip of his coffee, draining it as Ivy seems to consider whether or not to answer or evade the question. He gives her a few seconds more to think while he gets up and puts the mug in the sink and pours himself a glass of orange juice, returning the bottle to the fridge. When he sits down, he looks at her expectantly. Ivy sighs and looks at Mumf.*
Ivy – I’ve got a lot on my mind.
Mumf – I’m all ears if you want to talk about it.
Ivy – Do you remember my ex, Jason? The guy who used to run with one of the feds you were in with me?
*Mumf nods and drinks his orange juice as he listens.*
Mumf – The one with the anger issues?
Ivy – The one and the same. Well, we ended up in another company together a while back and he seemed to have mellowed out, so I figured I’d give him another chance. Turns out he didn’t mellow out. He just figured out how to put up a better front until he starts getting involved with someone. He tried to take a swing at me, and I ended up leveling him. He tried to come at me and Ryan ended up hearing the raised voices and kicked his ass.
Mumf – He never mentioned any of this to me.
Ivy – You were kind of busy at the time, and you had a lot on your mind. I don’t think he wanted to add to it. Besides, I told him not to mention it. Last thing you needed was the drama of an old flame being dropped in your lap.
Mumf – You know I never turn my back on a friend if they need me. That’s always gone without saying, whether we’re dating or not. But I’m assuming there’s more to this story if we’re having this conversation. It wouldn’t warrant mentioning if there wasn’t.
Ivy – You’re a keen observer. I guess he caught me on TV and found out through some friends that I’m back on the Island. He managed to get my number and has been texting me, leaving voice mails for me, and downright stalking me. If he knew where I was staying I’m sure he’d end up over here too, but thankfully your address isn’t listed. There’s not many people who scare me, but that dude and his ‘roid raging ass is one of them.
*Mumf nods and sits in silence for a moment, taking another drink of his orange juice as he thinks.*
Mumf – Isn't he from Long Island?
Ivy – Yeah. He hangs out over in Freeport, and not in the good part by the water, either. Usually surrounds himself with a bunch of thugs and gangbangers in the projects.
Mumf – Jesus, Ivy, you sure know how to pick ‘em.
Ivy – Yeah, well what can I say, when it comes to drama, go big or go home.
*Mumf chuckles and finishes his orange juice and his apple and throws the core in the garbage across the room from where he’s sitting.*
Mumf – Don’t worry about Jason any more than you already have. I’ll deal with him. Once I’m done he won’t be an issue.
Ivy – You don’t have to…
*Mumf holds his hand up for her to stop and interrupts her.*
Mumf – Yes I do. For one, you’re a friend and I protect my friends. For another thing, his bothering you will affect your ability to perform and watch my back, and as things start to heat up, I can’t have that. And for one last thing, it’s my prerogative to be protective. So don’t worry about it.
Ivy – What will you do?
*Mumf grins that knowing, yet somehow dangerous grin.*
Mumf – Oh, I don’t know. I can be pretty persuasive when given a chance to talk. And when not given the chance? I can be pretty persuasive then, too.
Ivy – What about the guys he hangs out with?
Mumf – Ivy, you know who I am. You know my background more than most people in the business, and you know what I’m capable of outside a ring. He won’t be an issue and neither will his friends. In the meantime though, I need to get some training done. Want to come for a run?
*Ivy grins and stands up, sauntering towards her bedroom as if heading back to bed, her hips moving to and fro.*
Ivy – Sure, why not? I’m already awake anyway, so I might as well take advantage of the morning and get a chance to see you all worked up.
*Mumf smirks and shakes his head as Ivy heads into her room to get changed, leaving him to lace up his sneakers as the scene fades out.*
*The scene fades back in with static on the screen followed by a statement and graphic that reads…*
The following is a paid message from Mad Mumf…
*There’s another moment of momentary static, which abruptly opens to Mumf standing wearing a black hoodie and tattered jeans, standing in front of a housing project in a more urban looking area of Long Island. He’s got a baseball bat resting against his shoulder as he leans against a black 1969 Dodge Charger, a car that definitely looks a little out of place in the neighborhood he’s in.*
Mad Mumf – Things seem to be getting pretty interesting in my life these days, both inside the ring and out. I mean, here I am, about to beat the living crap out of some gangbanger while getting ready to face off yet another member of the Black Hand. I’m starting to notice a pattern, here. It’s a seeming spiraling pattern of violence, which suits me just fine. But I suppose one man’s fight with a bunch of hustlers is another man’s way to train for a fight. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been involved in gang warfare or a fight against several guys at once, and it probably won’t be the last. That goes for inside the ring as well as outside.
Hell, for all I know, the pattern I’m seeing my matches on Overdrive taking could very well lead to another situation just like that. I’m squaring off against yet another member of a wrestling dynasty this week, and another member of the Black Hand. In fact, he’s one of the newer members, from what I’ve seen, but no less capable. Yes, I’m talking about you, Michael Jennings. You seem to have something of a love-hate relationship with this business. I’ve seen your backstage family issues as well, but the good news is, that has nothing to do with me. I’m not one to drag someone’s family into my business unless they get themselves involved. What I am one to do is make sure that I get a good fight out of every opponent I face, and in this case, Michael, that’s you.
Before my first two months are out, I’m starting to feel like I may damn well have ended up facing off against every member of the Black Hand out there if we keep it up at the rate we’re going. Not that I’m complaining, mind you, I want the best the APW has to offer me on a weekly basis so that I can get better, so that I can learn more, and so that I can more aptly ply my trade. In order to do that I need to face every person possible, whether they’re part of a faction, allied with people I’m concerned are going to involve themselves in my matches, or involve themselves with people whose means and methods I find questionable. What it all really boils down to is the fact that I don’t care what gets thrown at me on a weekly basis so long as it’s a challenge. I’ll fight one man, two men, or a whole god damned faction. It doesn’t matter. If it turns into a numbers game though, you better believe, after the first few times, I’m going to strategize and start bringing backup.
We’re not at that point yet, but I’m starting to wonder just what the Black Hand is all about. I see it growing on a nearly weekly basis and, I’m getting told by some that they’re a group of friends watching one another’s backs except, of course, when it comes to the beef, apparently that they have with Evan Envi. Here’s my question. If it’s such a close knit group of friends, how’s it constantly recruiting? You’d think a group like the Black Hand would be a little more selective if they’re that “tight.” I’m not here to question that right now though. Just offering an observation.
You used to be able to distinguish friend from foe so easily in this business. Everyone’s cards were on the table, you knew where their loyalties were, and you know which people you had to watch out for and which you could trust. There was none of this sitting on the fence bullcrap you see from everyone and their cousin. Everyone picked a side, and if you were on the wrong side, god help you. At this point, you’ve got to start wondering if a man would be better off taking the approach that if somebody isn’t part of the solution, they’re part of the problem. Maybe it’s time to stir the pot a bit and add a little mayhem, a little anarchy into the mix.
Don’t think, though, that I’ve forgotten about you, Michael Jennings. You’re the true matter at hand. You’re the point of focus this week, and as befitting somebody who comes from a family of wrestlers, you can handle yourself in that ring quite well. In fact you’ve got quite the angry streak to you. I like that. It poses an interesting theoretical challenge for me. I’d like to see what my calculating and rage fueled strategy can do against someone’s unbridled rage. Maybe you’re just the man to help me test that.
You’ve had an interesting journey to the point you’re at in your career and seem to have drifted away from the clean shaven look you had when I first arrived. It’s an interesting transformation to say the least, and one I’ve experienced myself. The question is, however, if the change is merely cosmetic or if you’ve altered your attitude as well. Is this the same man who burned down a yacht and seemed ready to kill his own father a few weeks ago? Or is this a man who has a fortune at his fingertips and can pretty much do whatever he pleases? Growing out your hair and forgetting to shave doesn’t make you a different man, so I just have to ask. Which man am I getting in the ring this Thursday night?
You’ve had an interesting history, Michael. A very tumultuous one as well that eventually leads to you being part of the Black Hand and dumping your manager for the comfort of a larger faction who you feel will watch your back. You’ve gone from being an anti-hero, a rebel, a fighter, a man who fears nothing, to a man who has the backing of one of the most formidable groups in this company right now. That makes you a dangerous person I suppose. The thing about that is I don’t pay much credence to whether someone else is a danger to me, because I will always pose an equal threat to somebody who confronts me. I may not be the top of the food chain, but I’m pretty damn close, and if there’s something or someone higher than where I am on that chain here in the APW, you can be pretty damn sure that I’ll be making sure that they’re walking away from their meal, bloody, battered, and in seriously bad shape.
I’m not going to be so presumptuous as to say that I’m going to be the biggest challenge you’ve ever faced. You’ve faced a lot of personal demons as well as physical ones in that ring, I’m sure. A singles match against the likes of myself pales in comparison to some of them, I’m sure. What I will tell you is that you will remember this fight and you will walk away, whether you’ve won or lost remembering just who I am and what I can do for the next time you cross my path, whether it be as part of the Black Hand or by yourself. I don’t care who you are or what your history is. I don’t even care about your legacy as part of the Jennings family dynasty. It doesn’t matter to me if you’re a first generation superstar or an eighth. What matters to me, is coming into that ring as Comfort Eagle hits, facing you down, no matter who you’re allied with, and doing what I do best. That being kicking your ass and anyone else’s who sets foot in that ring any time between start and finish and even after that final bell has rung.
I’m not going to lie. I don’t much trust the Black Hand. I’ve heard all the pretty words about how you’re watching each other’s backs and are a brotherhood, but truth is, I don’t trust you, and I damn near feel the need to have someone watching mine when facing a member of your group. I learned a long time ago to take things at face value. I’ve had groups like one called Partners In Crime attack me and waffle my head with a steel chair, courtesy of our own Terry Marvin and my then girlfriend, Kirsta Lewis, as she turned on me and they used me as an example for the formation of their own little faction. So you’ll have to excuse me if I don’t trust your word or Chris Madison’s word on the fact that you’re not going to be like every other faction I’ve seen in this business, and eventually stick its nose into my business and draw my ire and attention. This time I’m going to be proactive though. I will have people watching my back. I’ll have my brother keeping a close eye on things, and he is more than capable. And I may very well go enlist a few other sets of eyes just to be safe. We’ll see.
Those who don’t learn from their past are doomed to repeat it, and I’m not about to repeat the hell I’ve gone through in my years in this business. I said I’ll introduce a little mayhem into this company, and if that’s what it takes to keep my back watched and my ass safe, then so be it. A little anarchy goes a long way. Because I would much rather focus on you, Michael Jennings, than on any of your friends or allies. I want to give you one hundred percent of my attention come Thursday and show you who Mad Mumf is. I may have lost last week to Chris Madison, but I’ll assure you I made a lasting impression. I can and will take anybody in this business to the limit. To their very BRINK of their ability, and even if they end up beating me, they will remember just what they had to deal with to get their hand raised in victory. They’ll know, so long as they didn’t have any outside help, that they earned that victory, but they’ll also know that I’ll have learned a good deal about them from that experience, and that any time thereafter that they come face to face with Mad Mumf, that it will not be a foregone conclusion. There will always be that nagging little bit of doubt in the back of their head as they recall just how taxing it was to face me the previous time, and the knowledge that I have learned more since that time. So remember, my first time through the rotation, even if I lose a few matches, I will be learning more every time I come out to that ring about all of these grand new opponents, adding to my lessons learned, and getting ready for time after time after time, when I will become a constant threat, a more difficult challenge, and eventually, somebody who will and very well should be feared.
You are about to learn, Michael Jennings, that when you step into the ring with Mad Mumf, you will be finding yourself challenged as you have never been challenged before, not just this time, but any time you come up against me. Keep that in mind as you get ready, and remember that you are not facing some green rookie, but a veteran who has been through hell and back and knows how to prepare just as well as you do for a fight that will shake the foundations of that ring. I’ll see you on Thursday. For now, I’ve got some training to do.
*Mumf pushes off from the car and walks away from it towards a group of thugs hanging out by the corner.*
Thug #1: Yo! Get a load of Mr. All-American over here. You’re in the wrong neighborhood homie!
*Mumf doesn’t say a word. His even gaze is similar to the one he carries with him into the ring as the baseball bat remains stationary on his shoulder.*
Mad Mumf – Which one of you little snot nosed assholes is Jason?
*One of the thugs steps forward, wearing gold chains around his neck and already sporting a black eye. He appears heavily muscled and displays some of the obvious signs of steroid use.*
Jason – I am. What’s it to you, punk?
*Mumf just grins that wicked looking grin and without warning swings the bat at Jason’s rib cage. After a moment of shock, his friends try to jump in, the first few with little to no success as Mumf gives them theirs as well as the scene fades to black.*
