Post by Shadow on Aug 26, 2013 20:56:24 GMT -4
Shadow laid in the hospital bed, his eyes were closed but he the humming lights still burned his eyelids. He was getting checked up before his match tomorrow night. Right now the doctors were in the other room looking at his X-rays. Two had passed since Asylum and after the brutal onslaught Shadow endured at the hands of Aubrey J Parker and Unforgiven, he needed a doctor's consent before competing.
In the back of his mind, Shadow thought about how everything went down. He remembered the spear and then Sentinel bringing the chair down on Shadow over and over again. Things got fuzzy after that. He remembered standing up to face AJP. Then a bunch of doctors around him again and Jack Spade stuffing a microphone in his face. A smile crept across Shadow's lips as he remembered issuing the challenge to Unforgiven. They were too scared. Had to go face Sang Real this week, a team Shadow had already beat.
"Well Mr. Ryback," The doctor said as she entered the room. "I have some good news."
Shadow's eyes fluttered open. His doctor was hot: long blonde hair, even longer legs. She looked like she could be dating George Clooney.
"Good news?"
"You're healing quiet nicely."
"But there's bad news?"
She lowered he head, obviously she was torn. "I don't think I can release you to compete this week."
"Bull," Shadow's voice was curt as he sat up.
"I'm sorry, I...I just-"
"No," Shadow stood from the bed and approached the doctor. He didn't have as bad a limp as he did before. One thing about Shadow, he always did heal quickly. "Doc, listen. I'm going to compete this week."
"Shadow, you don't understand"
"No... You don't seem to understand doc," Shadow smiled. "This is Meltdown. It's my show. A.P.W. can't have a Meltdown SuperShow without the original Meltdown Monster"
He points at himself as the doctor opens the folder. As she walks to the light screen she pulls out his film. Shadow looks over her at his white bones glowing brightly before him. He didn't see anything.
"See that?" She points at his femur. Again Shadow saw nothing. "It's a hairline fracture. Even though you've had two weeks to heal. it's still there and if you push it tomorrow night, you could break your leg. Against someone like Mumf, the risk is too great."
Shadow looked at the thin blue line in his massive white femur. For a moment, Shadow wondered if kicking in Mumf's locker room door had anything to do with this slow heal. The sound of his foot impacting the metal door and the resonating bang made the hair on the back of Shadow's neck stand up. He had to admit, that was pretty fun.
"Worth it," Shadow thought aloud.
"What did you say?"
"I said: worth it." Shadow flipped the switch on the light screen. "I'll take the risk."
"Shadow." It pained her to think that one wrong move could end Shadow's career on Meltdown. Inside she struggled. She couldn't sign his release.
"I'm going out there doc, with or without your signature."
"You cant!"
"You watch me, woman." Shadow chuckled. He didn't mean to offend her and shook his head apologetically. "Sorry. Listen Doc. this I have to do."
"You don't have prove anything to anyone Shadow." The doctor started. He held up his hand to stop her.
"I know." He knew just as well as her that there was no one on Shadow's next to kin. Shadow didn't have anything to prove to anyone and he didn't have anyone to prove anything to. For Shadow all he had was himself. For some people that could get loney. Then again, Shadow wasn't most people. Hell Shadow hated most people. As he walked away from the doctor, Shadow thought about what might happen on Meltdown. He knew the risk. He knew the risk when he took on Raab and Duvall. Now everyone was out for Shadow's blood. His hand clasped the doorknob.
"Shadow please," The doctor put her hand on his good shoulder. "Don't do this."
He turned his head slightly looking over his right shoulder. He looks out of the corner of his eye a scowl forms across Shadow's lips. "I am doing this."
He opened the door and slammed it behind him.
Now, let's talk about, "both sides of the spectrum." Dumbass, I am six foot eleven. I tower over you. Six foot two might be average for some. You're still a midget to me. So obviously, you didn't suddenly shrink. That must mean your other side was either really swoll or really fat. Although I know otherwise, I still think Mumford is a fat kid's name. Yeah we remember you had muscles like Drax the Destroyer. So you HAD the body of boulder back then; I'm a damn mountain right NOW, son. You're a real genius, do you know that?
And about how you come across as a monster, the whole: sadistic bastard who takes pleasure in methodically taking apart his opponents for fan enjoyment. You're really just a bitch who likes beating men with his wood. Me? I'm not much for weapons. I got the homegrown mitts here. People have equated their impact to large chunks of concrete. If you break your stupid stick out during our match, afterwards you can explain to the very "compenent" Meltdown medical staff how you got a broken baseball bat shoved up your ass.
And do NOT quote Pulp Fiction to me. Everyone saw me go Bruce Willis on "the Gimp" Zachariah in Topeka! You have no right to go Jules on me. Please, do us all a favor and stop with you're hip little movie references; you're neither witty nor cool enough to make them work. So you don't get to quote Jackson to me. All you did was prove to me how big a douche you are. As if the Billy Pepsi fanboy tattoo you got on your shoulder wasn't evidence enough. Jeez, you're such a jerkoff. I cant wait till I cram my clown sized feet into my very solid leather boots and stomp a mudhole in your ass.
Oh and another thing: You threatened Victor Hades with a baseball bat? Bitch Please! Talk to me after you've run a Deck the Halls Cage match with that psycho. You know once Hades is finished with Watson on Meltdown, I wouldn't be surprised if he is came after you; too bad I going to hospitalize you before he gets the chance. You and that stupid freaking bat. Like it really makes your "scary!"
Mumf, I'm going to be frank with you. You're an imbecile. Stop living in the past, lets live in the now. Speaking of now, let me flash you back to Asylum. Cause I think you need to get a little information on your opponent (me) and recent events. Let's see, how did things go in that gauntlet match. Oh yeah, I got wailed on with a steel chair... again! But this time instead of an amush from behind, it was Sentinel who bitched out. And after only one move! If **I** had been ordered to save AJP with a steel chair... well I'd first hit HER with the chair. Then I'd devestate the man who talked shit to me before hammering away with what Talon called a weapon. Real rudimentary, huh bitch. As for Sentinel, well he's a pussy, used the chair the first chance he got. Are you a wet vagina too, Mumf?
Rhetorical question dumbass. Last thing in the world I want to hear right now is one of your lame-ass, ill-imagined, media-savey responses. I'm pissed at you Mumf. I didn't come there to intimidate you. If I wanted to intimidate you and your little entourage, ya'll would be. I was being polite; you know, face to face. Hell, I even autographed your damn door for you. But no, you had to get all butt-hurt over someone interrupting one of you're "conversations." How the hell was I supposed to know you were discussing your dad's bowel movements? The sign on your door said "enter freely;" I did.
I entered, I complimented your office for having walls, I wanted to get to know you. No! Instead you got upset, spouted off you're retort, told me to leave YOUR office and then walked out. Really? All that to just mosey off- PUSSY. That's what I'm facing this week- Mad Muff? I wish I could have some measure of respect for you, I really do. I mean; I know you've been around this business a good while, but you're a jack ass. I can see why you don't take crap from anyone, you're full of it already and I'm going to stomp it out of you; you disrespectful, deranged, dumb son of a bitch.
But I'm only looking at this glass half empty. Let's look at it half full. MELTDOWN That's right baby! Daddy's home. See I knew Hurricane Jeff was a genius. It's why I like working here. He has a plan, it works. Someone books a Meltdown, I have to be on it. I don't know if this supershow idea is going to become a regular thing or not. Either way, I plan to savor this Meltdown as long as I can. Mumf, that means I'm taking that time straight out of your ass.
I told you I wanted a monster. You obviously don't understand why. I seek out monsters Mumf. I take on the teir and and the circus they lead. I want to fight, Mumf; it's what I live for. You're not a monster; you're nothing like me. You're just some twisted emo-ish bastard. Name your reason, whether it's because no one in the locker room talks to you, you got picked last at kick ball or daddy Mumford snuck in after light outs, I don't care. As for that distinguish military career as a ruthless, methodical, emotionless killer you tote on and on about; how the hell is that supposed to be well recieved? I thought they didn't let psychos in the military! Eh- Like we believe you really were a black op. Face it Mumf, you played Black Ops: I and II, freak.
Now, let me tell you about my side of the spectrum: It's power, pure power. You can be cold, emotionless, psychotic... It doesn't matter you still will feel pain. I'm mad, Mumf. I'm pissed off. I'm not mad at AJP wetting herself and sending Sentinel after me with a steal chair, I'm not mad Stefan told them to do it. I'm mad because I have to face you. I was expecting more. I heard Mad Mumf and I thought, "damn I know him." Then I came and saw you and listened to that bullshit you had to say. You need a wake up call boy; maybe teach you some real respect. And if you think talk is cheap- fine. I'll show you power. Come Meltdown, I'm going to fuck you up.
In the back of his mind, Shadow thought about how everything went down. He remembered the spear and then Sentinel bringing the chair down on Shadow over and over again. Things got fuzzy after that. He remembered standing up to face AJP. Then a bunch of doctors around him again and Jack Spade stuffing a microphone in his face. A smile crept across Shadow's lips as he remembered issuing the challenge to Unforgiven. They were too scared. Had to go face Sang Real this week, a team Shadow had already beat.
"Well Mr. Ryback," The doctor said as she entered the room. "I have some good news."
Shadow's eyes fluttered open. His doctor was hot: long blonde hair, even longer legs. She looked like she could be dating George Clooney.
"Good news?"
"You're healing quiet nicely."
"But there's bad news?"
She lowered he head, obviously she was torn. "I don't think I can release you to compete this week."
"Bull," Shadow's voice was curt as he sat up.
"I'm sorry, I...I just-"
"No," Shadow stood from the bed and approached the doctor. He didn't have as bad a limp as he did before. One thing about Shadow, he always did heal quickly. "Doc, listen. I'm going to compete this week."
"Shadow, you don't understand"
"No... You don't seem to understand doc," Shadow smiled. "This is Meltdown. It's my show. A.P.W. can't have a Meltdown SuperShow without the original Meltdown Monster"
He points at himself as the doctor opens the folder. As she walks to the light screen she pulls out his film. Shadow looks over her at his white bones glowing brightly before him. He didn't see anything.
"See that?" She points at his femur. Again Shadow saw nothing. "It's a hairline fracture. Even though you've had two weeks to heal. it's still there and if you push it tomorrow night, you could break your leg. Against someone like Mumf, the risk is too great."
Shadow looked at the thin blue line in his massive white femur. For a moment, Shadow wondered if kicking in Mumf's locker room door had anything to do with this slow heal. The sound of his foot impacting the metal door and the resonating bang made the hair on the back of Shadow's neck stand up. He had to admit, that was pretty fun.
"Worth it," Shadow thought aloud.
"What did you say?"
"I said: worth it." Shadow flipped the switch on the light screen. "I'll take the risk."
"Shadow." It pained her to think that one wrong move could end Shadow's career on Meltdown. Inside she struggled. She couldn't sign his release.
"I'm going out there doc, with or without your signature."
"You cant!"
"You watch me, woman." Shadow chuckled. He didn't mean to offend her and shook his head apologetically. "Sorry. Listen Doc. this I have to do."
"You don't have prove anything to anyone Shadow." The doctor started. He held up his hand to stop her.
"I know." He knew just as well as her that there was no one on Shadow's next to kin. Shadow didn't have anything to prove to anyone and he didn't have anyone to prove anything to. For Shadow all he had was himself. For some people that could get loney. Then again, Shadow wasn't most people. Hell Shadow hated most people. As he walked away from the doctor, Shadow thought about what might happen on Meltdown. He knew the risk. He knew the risk when he took on Raab and Duvall. Now everyone was out for Shadow's blood. His hand clasped the doorknob.
"Shadow please," The doctor put her hand on his good shoulder. "Don't do this."
He turned his head slightly looking over his right shoulder. He looks out of the corner of his eye a scowl forms across Shadow's lips. "I am doing this."
He opened the door and slammed it behind him.
Now, let's talk about, "both sides of the spectrum." Dumbass, I am six foot eleven. I tower over you. Six foot two might be average for some. You're still a midget to me. So obviously, you didn't suddenly shrink. That must mean your other side was either really swoll or really fat. Although I know otherwise, I still think Mumford is a fat kid's name. Yeah we remember you had muscles like Drax the Destroyer. So you HAD the body of boulder back then; I'm a damn mountain right NOW, son. You're a real genius, do you know that?
And about how you come across as a monster, the whole: sadistic bastard who takes pleasure in methodically taking apart his opponents for fan enjoyment. You're really just a bitch who likes beating men with his wood. Me? I'm not much for weapons. I got the homegrown mitts here. People have equated their impact to large chunks of concrete. If you break your stupid stick out during our match, afterwards you can explain to the very "compenent" Meltdown medical staff how you got a broken baseball bat shoved up your ass.
And do NOT quote Pulp Fiction to me. Everyone saw me go Bruce Willis on "the Gimp" Zachariah in Topeka! You have no right to go Jules on me. Please, do us all a favor and stop with you're hip little movie references; you're neither witty nor cool enough to make them work. So you don't get to quote Jackson to me. All you did was prove to me how big a douche you are. As if the Billy Pepsi fanboy tattoo you got on your shoulder wasn't evidence enough. Jeez, you're such a jerkoff. I cant wait till I cram my clown sized feet into my very solid leather boots and stomp a mudhole in your ass.
Oh and another thing: You threatened Victor Hades with a baseball bat? Bitch Please! Talk to me after you've run a Deck the Halls Cage match with that psycho. You know once Hades is finished with Watson on Meltdown, I wouldn't be surprised if he is came after you; too bad I going to hospitalize you before he gets the chance. You and that stupid freaking bat. Like it really makes your "scary!"
Mumf, I'm going to be frank with you. You're an imbecile. Stop living in the past, lets live in the now. Speaking of now, let me flash you back to Asylum. Cause I think you need to get a little information on your opponent (me) and recent events. Let's see, how did things go in that gauntlet match. Oh yeah, I got wailed on with a steel chair... again! But this time instead of an amush from behind, it was Sentinel who bitched out. And after only one move! If **I** had been ordered to save AJP with a steel chair... well I'd first hit HER with the chair. Then I'd devestate the man who talked shit to me before hammering away with what Talon called a weapon. Real rudimentary, huh bitch. As for Sentinel, well he's a pussy, used the chair the first chance he got. Are you a wet vagina too, Mumf?
Rhetorical question dumbass. Last thing in the world I want to hear right now is one of your lame-ass, ill-imagined, media-savey responses. I'm pissed at you Mumf. I didn't come there to intimidate you. If I wanted to intimidate you and your little entourage, ya'll would be. I was being polite; you know, face to face. Hell, I even autographed your damn door for you. But no, you had to get all butt-hurt over someone interrupting one of you're "conversations." How the hell was I supposed to know you were discussing your dad's bowel movements? The sign on your door said "enter freely;" I did.
I entered, I complimented your office for having walls, I wanted to get to know you. No! Instead you got upset, spouted off you're retort, told me to leave YOUR office and then walked out. Really? All that to just mosey off- PUSSY. That's what I'm facing this week- Mad Muff? I wish I could have some measure of respect for you, I really do. I mean; I know you've been around this business a good while, but you're a jack ass. I can see why you don't take crap from anyone, you're full of it already and I'm going to stomp it out of you; you disrespectful, deranged, dumb son of a bitch.
But I'm only looking at this glass half empty. Let's look at it half full. MELTDOWN That's right baby! Daddy's home. See I knew Hurricane Jeff was a genius. It's why I like working here. He has a plan, it works. Someone books a Meltdown, I have to be on it. I don't know if this supershow idea is going to become a regular thing or not. Either way, I plan to savor this Meltdown as long as I can. Mumf, that means I'm taking that time straight out of your ass.
I told you I wanted a monster. You obviously don't understand why. I seek out monsters Mumf. I take on the teir and and the circus they lead. I want to fight, Mumf; it's what I live for. You're not a monster; you're nothing like me. You're just some twisted emo-ish bastard. Name your reason, whether it's because no one in the locker room talks to you, you got picked last at kick ball or daddy Mumford snuck in after light outs, I don't care. As for that distinguish military career as a ruthless, methodical, emotionless killer you tote on and on about; how the hell is that supposed to be well recieved? I thought they didn't let psychos in the military! Eh- Like we believe you really were a black op. Face it Mumf, you played Black Ops: I and II, freak.
Now, let me tell you about my side of the spectrum: It's power, pure power. You can be cold, emotionless, psychotic... It doesn't matter you still will feel pain. I'm mad, Mumf. I'm pissed off. I'm not mad at AJP wetting herself and sending Sentinel after me with a steal chair, I'm not mad Stefan told them to do it. I'm mad because I have to face you. I was expecting more. I heard Mad Mumf and I thought, "damn I know him." Then I came and saw you and listened to that bullshit you had to say. You need a wake up call boy; maybe teach you some real respect. And if you think talk is cheap- fine. I'll show you power. Come Meltdown, I'm going to fuck you up.
