Post by Nick Watson on Jan 2, 2011 16:40:41 GMT -4
*One Day After Overdrive, Streets of New York*
After losing both an award and a title to that fuck James Chambers, Madok Mortalis had been playing things by ear. Buying certain stocks in certain companies, enjoying the holidays, and above all else trying to find Pence Weatherlight. Pence had made another disappearing act after last weeks Overdrive, he had looked disappointed and had every right to be. Pence had not received anything, no awards, and no applause save the one time he stepped up to give an award out to that sadist fuck, Victor Hades. However, that was not his story, so it didn't really matter.
Madok Mortalis was neither upset nor angered by the loss. In fact, he felt relieved that a Blackwell did not grab that belt, and that he would be taking place in the Tap Out Championship tournament. Needless to say, submission was not his best subject, but it was still there. He had the fundamentals down pat.
Madok: All I have to do is choke a bitch.
Madok said to himself as he snickered a bit, continuing to walk down the sidewalks as the wind let out a ghastly howl. He tightened his jacket around him, trying, much like everyone else on the sidewalk, to remain warm. Madok of course was at a decent disadvantage, he couldn't use weapons when he really wanted to. Oh how he wanted to choke Damian out with a crowbar, but that shit was just not going to happen. A genius move by the group of IWC top brass who truly didn't know where the direction of the company was going or if that it would even be open in the months to come. Lets face it, the company had started strong, but now it was quiet. Its strength fading much like the heat from Madok's body. James Chambers was a great guy to bet money on for being a successful champion, but without a true number one contender...where would that belt go? None of the Blackwells were retarded enough to fight James, no offense to the Blackwells, but they had been surpassed by the sheer stupidity of stereotypical blackness. Madok was the only one who could take on James, hands down, but he was going to be IWC Tap Out Champion and Madok doubted that they would just allow him to go after a championship while holding another. After all, that would just be unprofessional.
Madok was looking forward to this, a challenge to see if he could professionally wrestle the toughest S.O.B.'s in the market. Massacre was a stepping stone for him and he had forgotten about losing there already. He now had to focus on another task. Creating a resume of moves before Asylum came around. In truth he had already been practicing. Training with a few personal trainers to get himself in the shape he would need to be in to go toe to toe with Damian Dimitri and anyone else he had to fight that night. After all it wasn't only about winning a match, it was also about enduring the full length of the night. This would not just be one match and then done, this would be a whole night of nothing, but technical wrestling. He sure hoped it would be funner than it actually sounded.
As he finished thinking about all of this a jet black limousine would pull up next to him. His personal assistant, Nicky, would open the door for him, and give him a broad grin. He smiled back and got into the vehicle quickly as to avoid getting colder. He let out a satisfied sigh as he closed the door and the heat of the cab filled him with good spirits. He turned to look at Nicky who was stifling a laugh as she saw how red his face was. He glared at her and she quickly looked away.
Madok: I hope you find it amusing because it is fucking cold out there.
Nicky: I'm sorry, Mr. Mortalis. We tried to get here as quickly as we could.
Madok: Well it took you long enough, I thought I would have fucking freezed out there.
Nicky: Maybe next time you should stay in the gym....
Madok: Fuck that, after my hot Swedish trainers leave the gym it becomes quite the sausage fest, so why would I stay? Do I look like Branden Harvey to you?
Nicky: No you don't, sir. My apologies.
Madok: Damn right you better apologize.
Madok looked out the window at the people on the sidewalk as the limo turned down a back alley to avoid the traffic. A smart move by the driver to avoid the traffic, after all, Madok was not in the best of moods. Nicky cleared her throat as silence filled the cab of the limo.
Nicky: So...how is your training going?
Madok: Good, really good. My trainers say I'm a natural...of course that is what I think they are saying...after all they are speaking Swedish.
Madok began to think of the three ladies he had hired to train him in technical wrestling and began to drool as Nicky shook her head in disappointment. What could he say? Madok had a thing for chicks with accents. So sue him? The fact was, things were going good for him, and just in time for the New Years as well. To think that by this Sunday he would have a title around his waist made him almost jump for joy. But right now he had business to attend to, calls to make, and people to fire. For now, Madok Mortalis would have to put the training on the back-burner and focus on the job that he had to do. The scene fades to black.
=================================================================
*Present Day, Unknown Location*
The scene returns to life as it opens on Madok sitting in an office somewhere in New York, he is talking on the phone just loud enough for the people at home to hear him.
Madok:...What do you mean illegal? Just sink the fucking thing....I don't pay you for you to have a conscience. Just sink Bobby fuckface's boat and get the hell out of there. Yes, his yacht. Yeah, the one that is not as half as good as mine. Yep, that would be the one. Thanks...bye.
Madok hangs up the phone as he looks at the camera with a large mischevious grin on his face.
Madok: Sorry, had to deflate some fuck's ego. After all, there can not be two egocentric dicks in IWC. There is room for only one and quite frankly...being the richer out of the two of us, I'm pretty sure Bob won't mind me just fucking over his dreams with a dildo covered in lava.
Madok presses a button on his desk as the sound of a woman's voice saying "Coming" comes out of the desk. Madok releases the button and then begins to speak again.
Madok: The nerve of some people. Calling themselves "Superstars" or "Supersonic" or "Hardcore" when they can barely call themselves competition. I mean look around at all of this shit...
Madok picks up file after file with different name after different name, each one corresponding to different individuals in the tournament and not in the tournament.
Madok: Can you believe how many roaches can be in the same cesspool? Because I sure as hell can't. I mean where the fuck can you find some one named Bobby Bodacious at? Because I'm pretty sure he is the only man in the world with that sort of name...by the way...he has an utterly ridiculous last name and if he was truly as rich as he says he is, then he would have changed that years ago. How can someone, in a business venture, take him seriously with a fucking name like that. How do you use that name as a marketing tool because I am completely stumped! I guess that is why he makes all of hundreds of millions of dollars less than me...only the real pros can make less than me while trying their hardest. Anyway, double B seems to have forgotten that their are other people in this match, seemingly forgetting to give a flying fuck about whether I'm his opponent...which I will be after he beat Kristina...which clearly he will regardless of his piss poor talent and ability. But you, see, I care Double B. It is why I'm sinking your Yacht for being rude to a lady...sorry, just one of my rules. So you sir, have a fucking nice day.
Madok throws the file with Bobby Bodacious written on it into the trash can next to his desk before picking up the one named Blackwells.
Madok: Then we got the two Blackwells in this match, Kristina and Damian...both of which are losing regardless of what they say or do. Quite tragic really, but it doesn't matter. You see Damian ate too much paste when he grew up and thus won't even know he is in a match in the first place. He will be too busy reliving his whole sick, Arcadia in an Easter Bunny suit fetish. Meanwhile, Kristina will be imagining me in a speedo. What can I say? I'm a chick magnet, plus I don't mind the sexual tension after all sex sells and right now this company needs business. So I'm will to lay and slay if you catch my drift. Anyway, this file is garbage too.
Madok throws the file into the garbage with the Bodacious file,. picking up a file on Branden Harvey.
Madok: Oh, how did this get in here. This was supposed to be for competition only, not for shits and giggles. I mean honestly how can Branden think that I'm going to take him seriously when his best retort was I'm gay. HAH! Me being gay is like the Orlando Magic not being a championship contender...just not going to happen. I don't like guys and quite frankly, your sexual advances are beginning to irritate me Branden. No, I will not blow you and no I will not have gay sex with you, please stop calling, and please stop trying to get with me because quite frankly...I'm this close to just sending you to prison for sexual harassment. Anyway, besides being an untalented nitwit, you seem to think that it matters if I smash you over the head with a steel pipe or not and let me be the first to let you know that I know the rules and I know what I have to do. I don't need a reiteration of the rules and I don't need to know that I have to make you tap...which quite frankly is disturbing to me, but must be done to win the gold. Anyway to the garbage with this one too.
Madok throws that file into the garbage as well. Madok doesn't even hesitate as he throws the rest in.
Madok: Not to sound like I'm in a hurry or anything, but...I'm going to skip the theatrics. Chris and Delilah, you both suck. Delilah apparently was a porn star and thus sucked for a living and Cyrus sucked for enjoyment. Neither of them pose any threat to me along with the rest of menagerie, all of them are jokes and none of them deserves more air time than this....so please kindly fuck off and tip your waitress because I'm done with you guys.
Madok smiles as he is handed a cocktail by his assistant, he pours all of the liquid in to the trash can and then lights a match and then throws it into the can, catching a blaze instantly, burning the contents there in.
Madok: Oh and before I forget...happy fucking new year.
The scene then bursts to static.
After losing both an award and a title to that fuck James Chambers, Madok Mortalis had been playing things by ear. Buying certain stocks in certain companies, enjoying the holidays, and above all else trying to find Pence Weatherlight. Pence had made another disappearing act after last weeks Overdrive, he had looked disappointed and had every right to be. Pence had not received anything, no awards, and no applause save the one time he stepped up to give an award out to that sadist fuck, Victor Hades. However, that was not his story, so it didn't really matter.
Madok Mortalis was neither upset nor angered by the loss. In fact, he felt relieved that a Blackwell did not grab that belt, and that he would be taking place in the Tap Out Championship tournament. Needless to say, submission was not his best subject, but it was still there. He had the fundamentals down pat.
Madok: All I have to do is choke a bitch.
Madok said to himself as he snickered a bit, continuing to walk down the sidewalks as the wind let out a ghastly howl. He tightened his jacket around him, trying, much like everyone else on the sidewalk, to remain warm. Madok of course was at a decent disadvantage, he couldn't use weapons when he really wanted to. Oh how he wanted to choke Damian out with a crowbar, but that shit was just not going to happen. A genius move by the group of IWC top brass who truly didn't know where the direction of the company was going or if that it would even be open in the months to come. Lets face it, the company had started strong, but now it was quiet. Its strength fading much like the heat from Madok's body. James Chambers was a great guy to bet money on for being a successful champion, but without a true number one contender...where would that belt go? None of the Blackwells were retarded enough to fight James, no offense to the Blackwells, but they had been surpassed by the sheer stupidity of stereotypical blackness. Madok was the only one who could take on James, hands down, but he was going to be IWC Tap Out Champion and Madok doubted that they would just allow him to go after a championship while holding another. After all, that would just be unprofessional.
Madok was looking forward to this, a challenge to see if he could professionally wrestle the toughest S.O.B.'s in the market. Massacre was a stepping stone for him and he had forgotten about losing there already. He now had to focus on another task. Creating a resume of moves before Asylum came around. In truth he had already been practicing. Training with a few personal trainers to get himself in the shape he would need to be in to go toe to toe with Damian Dimitri and anyone else he had to fight that night. After all it wasn't only about winning a match, it was also about enduring the full length of the night. This would not just be one match and then done, this would be a whole night of nothing, but technical wrestling. He sure hoped it would be funner than it actually sounded.
As he finished thinking about all of this a jet black limousine would pull up next to him. His personal assistant, Nicky, would open the door for him, and give him a broad grin. He smiled back and got into the vehicle quickly as to avoid getting colder. He let out a satisfied sigh as he closed the door and the heat of the cab filled him with good spirits. He turned to look at Nicky who was stifling a laugh as she saw how red his face was. He glared at her and she quickly looked away.
Madok: I hope you find it amusing because it is fucking cold out there.
Nicky: I'm sorry, Mr. Mortalis. We tried to get here as quickly as we could.
Madok: Well it took you long enough, I thought I would have fucking freezed out there.
Nicky: Maybe next time you should stay in the gym....
Madok: Fuck that, after my hot Swedish trainers leave the gym it becomes quite the sausage fest, so why would I stay? Do I look like Branden Harvey to you?
Nicky: No you don't, sir. My apologies.
Madok: Damn right you better apologize.
Madok looked out the window at the people on the sidewalk as the limo turned down a back alley to avoid the traffic. A smart move by the driver to avoid the traffic, after all, Madok was not in the best of moods. Nicky cleared her throat as silence filled the cab of the limo.
Nicky: So...how is your training going?
Madok: Good, really good. My trainers say I'm a natural...of course that is what I think they are saying...after all they are speaking Swedish.
Madok began to think of the three ladies he had hired to train him in technical wrestling and began to drool as Nicky shook her head in disappointment. What could he say? Madok had a thing for chicks with accents. So sue him? The fact was, things were going good for him, and just in time for the New Years as well. To think that by this Sunday he would have a title around his waist made him almost jump for joy. But right now he had business to attend to, calls to make, and people to fire. For now, Madok Mortalis would have to put the training on the back-burner and focus on the job that he had to do. The scene fades to black.
=================================================================
*Present Day, Unknown Location*
The scene returns to life as it opens on Madok sitting in an office somewhere in New York, he is talking on the phone just loud enough for the people at home to hear him.
Madok:...What do you mean illegal? Just sink the fucking thing....I don't pay you for you to have a conscience. Just sink Bobby fuckface's boat and get the hell out of there. Yes, his yacht. Yeah, the one that is not as half as good as mine. Yep, that would be the one. Thanks...bye.
Madok hangs up the phone as he looks at the camera with a large mischevious grin on his face.
Madok: Sorry, had to deflate some fuck's ego. After all, there can not be two egocentric dicks in IWC. There is room for only one and quite frankly...being the richer out of the two of us, I'm pretty sure Bob won't mind me just fucking over his dreams with a dildo covered in lava.
Madok presses a button on his desk as the sound of a woman's voice saying "Coming" comes out of the desk. Madok releases the button and then begins to speak again.
Madok: The nerve of some people. Calling themselves "Superstars" or "Supersonic" or "Hardcore" when they can barely call themselves competition. I mean look around at all of this shit...
Madok picks up file after file with different name after different name, each one corresponding to different individuals in the tournament and not in the tournament.
Madok: Can you believe how many roaches can be in the same cesspool? Because I sure as hell can't. I mean where the fuck can you find some one named Bobby Bodacious at? Because I'm pretty sure he is the only man in the world with that sort of name...by the way...he has an utterly ridiculous last name and if he was truly as rich as he says he is, then he would have changed that years ago. How can someone, in a business venture, take him seriously with a fucking name like that. How do you use that name as a marketing tool because I am completely stumped! I guess that is why he makes all of hundreds of millions of dollars less than me...only the real pros can make less than me while trying their hardest. Anyway, double B seems to have forgotten that their are other people in this match, seemingly forgetting to give a flying fuck about whether I'm his opponent...which I will be after he beat Kristina...which clearly he will regardless of his piss poor talent and ability. But you, see, I care Double B. It is why I'm sinking your Yacht for being rude to a lady...sorry, just one of my rules. So you sir, have a fucking nice day.
Madok throws the file with Bobby Bodacious written on it into the trash can next to his desk before picking up the one named Blackwells.
Madok: Then we got the two Blackwells in this match, Kristina and Damian...both of which are losing regardless of what they say or do. Quite tragic really, but it doesn't matter. You see Damian ate too much paste when he grew up and thus won't even know he is in a match in the first place. He will be too busy reliving his whole sick, Arcadia in an Easter Bunny suit fetish. Meanwhile, Kristina will be imagining me in a speedo. What can I say? I'm a chick magnet, plus I don't mind the sexual tension after all sex sells and right now this company needs business. So I'm will to lay and slay if you catch my drift. Anyway, this file is garbage too.
Madok throws the file into the garbage with the Bodacious file,. picking up a file on Branden Harvey.
Madok: Oh, how did this get in here. This was supposed to be for competition only, not for shits and giggles. I mean honestly how can Branden think that I'm going to take him seriously when his best retort was I'm gay. HAH! Me being gay is like the Orlando Magic not being a championship contender...just not going to happen. I don't like guys and quite frankly, your sexual advances are beginning to irritate me Branden. No, I will not blow you and no I will not have gay sex with you, please stop calling, and please stop trying to get with me because quite frankly...I'm this close to just sending you to prison for sexual harassment. Anyway, besides being an untalented nitwit, you seem to think that it matters if I smash you over the head with a steel pipe or not and let me be the first to let you know that I know the rules and I know what I have to do. I don't need a reiteration of the rules and I don't need to know that I have to make you tap...which quite frankly is disturbing to me, but must be done to win the gold. Anyway to the garbage with this one too.
Madok throws that file into the garbage as well. Madok doesn't even hesitate as he throws the rest in.
Madok: Not to sound like I'm in a hurry or anything, but...I'm going to skip the theatrics. Chris and Delilah, you both suck. Delilah apparently was a porn star and thus sucked for a living and Cyrus sucked for enjoyment. Neither of them pose any threat to me along with the rest of menagerie, all of them are jokes and none of them deserves more air time than this....so please kindly fuck off and tip your waitress because I'm done with you guys.
Madok smiles as he is handed a cocktail by his assistant, he pours all of the liquid in to the trash can and then lights a match and then throws it into the can, catching a blaze instantly, burning the contents there in.
Madok: Oh and before I forget...happy fucking new year.
The scene then bursts to static.
