City Lights. (Showcase/ASW)
Jun 5, 2017 15:05:31 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer, Doc, and 1 more like this
Post by strangerdanger on Jun 5, 2017 15:05:31 GMT -5
"Here we are, once again..."
We fade in to the confines of a dark room, lit only by the city lights that glimmer through a large wall made of glass windows. We can clearly see the shape of a man, seated at a smooth, fancy glass table, his back turned to the windows, his face staring straight ahead at us, perfectly centered. The man seated at the table, clearly, is none other than MGK. Sitting before him on the table, is a paper of some sort, along with a pen. Near the corner of the table, a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter. MGK's hands are spread out on the table, his entire body motionless. This shot could easily be mistaken for a still photograph, and it is only when the man speaks, that we realize this is a live video.
"I suppose you could make a case that some old wounds never quite heal. Time may do its best to remedy old gashes, cuts, and bruises, but even after nearly a decade, some of that scar tissue will remain from our deepest scars, reminding us of what has come to pass, and of what may be yet to come. The idea that after so long, we could still be haunted by the ghosts of our pass, despite EVERY effort to move forward with our lives, well, I guess you could say it's a little depressing. At least, to some people."
MGK's hand slides down to the corner of the table, where he removes a cigarette from his pack of Camels. He slides the cigarette and the lighter closer to him, and faintly smiles.
"I am not one of those people. I embrace the ghosts of my past, and I gladly welcome my demons."
MGK's faint smile quickly fades away, as he stares directly into the camera lens.
"It's good to see you again, Doc. It truly is. When I had heard that the Xtreme Hardcore Federation had launched it's own Network, I suppose it was only a matter of time before I showed my face. You know me, after all. I've got a long, well-documented history of allowing my ego get the best of me. If I'm being honest, and you'll know this to be true, I was never all that good at letting things go. Not when it came to the XHF. Not when it came to my legacy, or for that matter, your legacy, hell, the legacy of the XHF itself. Years ago, Doc, you and I used to be part of something. Something bigger than ourselves. We worked hard for that honor. We bled, we sweat, we scratched, and we clawed, just so that at the end of the day, when all the smoke had cleared, we would be seen for what we truly are: ICONS. Icons that superseded everything that had come before us. ICONS that set the bar for future generations. ICONS who everyone knew, without a shadow of doubt, could never, ever, be replaced."
"So I guess, when I came to the realization that my ego would not fail me, and that I would return back to this place, a part of my mind also told me that all it would take for you to do the same... would be for me to mention you by name. I knew that whatever competitive part of me 'clicked' upon hearing those letters X..H...F... after all these years, that same competitive spirit would click for you as well, upon hearing me speak your name out loud, in front of the entire world. Can't say that I was wrong, can you? I mean the proof lies in the fact that you're back... back here, once again. There are some things that I can never let go of, you are right about that. But as you have already proven, the same could be said about you. In my view, this isn't a bad thing at all. No. You see, great things sometimes come from stubborn and prideful men. You and I, everyone knows that we are both very, very, stubborn and very, very, prideful."
"Of course, you're more than welcome to call me an old friend, Doc. Why would I ever object to that? After all that you and I have been through, after all the history we made together, in many ways, I consider myself to have been closer to you than, hell, almost anyone else who I've ever stepped into the ring with. Closer than men I've referred to in the past as 'brothers'. I always felt a connection with you, and before you begin to spew some homophobic slurs to mock me, I'd only like for you to take this into consideration. The connection I felt with you was not one of friendship, it wasn't really much of a business relationship, and hell, I can only speak for myself, but it was never a relationship of pure hatred, either. No, Doc, I always felt that we were bound together by one simple word: respect."
MGK's eyes gaze off, to some point in the room, off camera. Simply put, he appears to be in a daze, as if he is not truly here, in this room, in this moment, right now. No, through the vacant look in his eyes, it almost appears that he is right back in the mid 2000's reliving the past. After a moment, he blinks, and snaps out of it.
"Respect, Doc. Let's not beat around the bush here. You know me well enough to know that I was never the type of guy to stand across the ring from you, extend my hand, and say 'Gee golly, let the best man win! I sure hope we can put on a good show for all our fans!'"
Smirking, MGK shakes his head.
"No. Respect has always been an issue for me, I'm afraid. You see, throughout my career, I've made a legacy by beating just about anyone who crossed paths with me. But you know the thing about facing legends? The thing about facing men that you admire? It's clearly a rhetorical question, because right now, this is not about you; this point is more directly about me. And MY findings, through all my years of competing in the ring, was that your heroes and legends will almost ALWAYS disappoint you. No matter who I got into the ring with throughout my career, if it was an established star, or a returning legend, at one time or another, each and every one of them was beaten decisively by yours truly. I don't believe that it was the simple act of winning these matches that bothered me. After all, why would it? We all step into that ring with the intent to win, and if that's not the case, we have no business competing in the first place. At the time, back in the "glory days", it was considered a high honor to defeat former World Champions. So beating these men was a privilege, not a disappointment. No, I guess what truly bothered me deep down was that none of these so called 'legends' even came CLOSE to meeting the expectations that I had set out for them in my mind. None of them. I could start dropping names right now, but I think part of my point here, is that their names don't even matter anymore. Most of these dinosaurs have sunk down into the abyss. Their legacies, forgotten. Their sacrifices, all in vain."
With a hint of contempt in his eyes, MGK finally places the cigarette in his mouth, and lights it. After taking a long drag, he exhales. It's almost as if he never thought he'd be doing this again. Not the smoking, but the exchange of words being spirited competitors.
"So how does this tie in with that word, respect? Because I respect you, Doc. You've known that for a long time. I never stopped respecting you, not throughout all of our battles. And the reason for that, is because you are different from all the others, Doc. You've always been different. Where others failed, you excelled. You made it clear from the first time we met that you were not one of these half-assed, inept, washed up, burn-outs. Indeed, you were always exceptional."
"And again, I've got to be honest here. I've faced many exceptional men. In our line of work, exceptional doesn't mean I need to respect you. Exceptional only means that you have a chance. No, my friend, I've always respected you for one reason and one reason only, and it goes a lot further than merely being 'exceptional'. I respect you because you BEAT that respect out of me."
With a flick of his fingers, MGK ashes onto the table, clearly not concerned about its condition, seemingly implying that he is not afraid to make a mess. This act bears a striking contrast to the room around him. Spotless floor, clear glass windows highlighting the city beyond. MGK clearly doesn't care, as the ashes from his cigarette are permitted to fall wherever they please.
"Others, they merely asked for my respect. They figured, if they could hang with the Great MGK for just 5 minutes in the ring, that should be enough, whether they won or lost. If someone got one or two wins over me, but was defeated and stricken down by my hand several times more than that, they thought they had earned something. They assumed they had proven something, despite the fact that on any given night, I could walk down to the ring with one arm tied behind my back, and slap them silly merely for implying that they were even CLOSE to being my equals. Some of these guys were cool dudes, not necessarily bad people. But EQUALS to me, in the ring? I don't think so."
"See, you figured out something about me that nobody else ever could, Doc. And I personally believe that it's because, as you said, we share a lot of similarities. We are probably more alike than either of us sometimes would like to admit. Somehow, you always knew better than to try and earn my respect, or the respect of anyone else, for that matter. You always knew better than to simply punch me in the face. No, you were that one guy who realized that you've gotta punch THROUGH my fucking face in order to keep me down for good. Whenever it came to violence, whenever it came to beating a man down until he simply wasn't capable of getting back up, nothing was ever good enough for you. Every punch you threw, every superkick you gave me, every object you smashed over my head, it ALWAYS had to land harder than the last blow, because to you, nothing less would do. Nothing less would be acceptable."
"THAT'S why I respect you, Doc. THAT'S why I mentioned your name, over, and over, and over. You're 100% right about that. I didn't need to name drop other former champions, former legends, former stars, because the truth of the matter, is that I've beaten all of them. There is NOTHING in this business that I haven't done... except defeat you."
Growing visibly frustrated, MGK puts his cigarette out on the glass table, and looks down at the piece of paper that sits in front of him. He grabs the pen next to the paper, and rests his hand down, signing his signature to something.
"So there it is, my friend. My name, on a contract for an organization named All State Professional Wrestling. I wasn't sure that I wanted to do this, but seeing you back here, Doc, I simply don't have a choice at this point. Does this mean that you and I can go back to being celebrities now? Probably not. But it's a win/win situation for me, one that I can't ignore. Best case scenario, I face my demons one more time, head-on, and prove for the first, and possibly last time, that I was able to beat the Boyhood Dream himself, the Great Doc. Worst case scenario... you'll have to BEAT me within an inch one more time, to remind me of why I STILL RESPECT you. Either way, I know I won't be disappointed."
With those final words, MGK stands up, and walks around the glass table. He moves towards us, and briskly walks past the camera and out of our shot, out of the room. The final image we are left with is the shot of that same table, with MGK's signed AWF contract resting upon it, city lights still glowing in the background, barely illuminating this very dark room. Fade out.
We fade in to the confines of a dark room, lit only by the city lights that glimmer through a large wall made of glass windows. We can clearly see the shape of a man, seated at a smooth, fancy glass table, his back turned to the windows, his face staring straight ahead at us, perfectly centered. The man seated at the table, clearly, is none other than MGK. Sitting before him on the table, is a paper of some sort, along with a pen. Near the corner of the table, a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter. MGK's hands are spread out on the table, his entire body motionless. This shot could easily be mistaken for a still photograph, and it is only when the man speaks, that we realize this is a live video.
"I suppose you could make a case that some old wounds never quite heal. Time may do its best to remedy old gashes, cuts, and bruises, but even after nearly a decade, some of that scar tissue will remain from our deepest scars, reminding us of what has come to pass, and of what may be yet to come. The idea that after so long, we could still be haunted by the ghosts of our pass, despite EVERY effort to move forward with our lives, well, I guess you could say it's a little depressing. At least, to some people."
MGK's hand slides down to the corner of the table, where he removes a cigarette from his pack of Camels. He slides the cigarette and the lighter closer to him, and faintly smiles.
"I am not one of those people. I embrace the ghosts of my past, and I gladly welcome my demons."
MGK's faint smile quickly fades away, as he stares directly into the camera lens.
"It's good to see you again, Doc. It truly is. When I had heard that the Xtreme Hardcore Federation had launched it's own Network, I suppose it was only a matter of time before I showed my face. You know me, after all. I've got a long, well-documented history of allowing my ego get the best of me. If I'm being honest, and you'll know this to be true, I was never all that good at letting things go. Not when it came to the XHF. Not when it came to my legacy, or for that matter, your legacy, hell, the legacy of the XHF itself. Years ago, Doc, you and I used to be part of something. Something bigger than ourselves. We worked hard for that honor. We bled, we sweat, we scratched, and we clawed, just so that at the end of the day, when all the smoke had cleared, we would be seen for what we truly are: ICONS. Icons that superseded everything that had come before us. ICONS that set the bar for future generations. ICONS who everyone knew, without a shadow of doubt, could never, ever, be replaced."
"So I guess, when I came to the realization that my ego would not fail me, and that I would return back to this place, a part of my mind also told me that all it would take for you to do the same... would be for me to mention you by name. I knew that whatever competitive part of me 'clicked' upon hearing those letters X..H...F... after all these years, that same competitive spirit would click for you as well, upon hearing me speak your name out loud, in front of the entire world. Can't say that I was wrong, can you? I mean the proof lies in the fact that you're back... back here, once again. There are some things that I can never let go of, you are right about that. But as you have already proven, the same could be said about you. In my view, this isn't a bad thing at all. No. You see, great things sometimes come from stubborn and prideful men. You and I, everyone knows that we are both very, very, stubborn and very, very, prideful."
"Of course, you're more than welcome to call me an old friend, Doc. Why would I ever object to that? After all that you and I have been through, after all the history we made together, in many ways, I consider myself to have been closer to you than, hell, almost anyone else who I've ever stepped into the ring with. Closer than men I've referred to in the past as 'brothers'. I always felt a connection with you, and before you begin to spew some homophobic slurs to mock me, I'd only like for you to take this into consideration. The connection I felt with you was not one of friendship, it wasn't really much of a business relationship, and hell, I can only speak for myself, but it was never a relationship of pure hatred, either. No, Doc, I always felt that we were bound together by one simple word: respect."
MGK's eyes gaze off, to some point in the room, off camera. Simply put, he appears to be in a daze, as if he is not truly here, in this room, in this moment, right now. No, through the vacant look in his eyes, it almost appears that he is right back in the mid 2000's reliving the past. After a moment, he blinks, and snaps out of it.
"Respect, Doc. Let's not beat around the bush here. You know me well enough to know that I was never the type of guy to stand across the ring from you, extend my hand, and say 'Gee golly, let the best man win! I sure hope we can put on a good show for all our fans!'"
Smirking, MGK shakes his head.
"No. Respect has always been an issue for me, I'm afraid. You see, throughout my career, I've made a legacy by beating just about anyone who crossed paths with me. But you know the thing about facing legends? The thing about facing men that you admire? It's clearly a rhetorical question, because right now, this is not about you; this point is more directly about me. And MY findings, through all my years of competing in the ring, was that your heroes and legends will almost ALWAYS disappoint you. No matter who I got into the ring with throughout my career, if it was an established star, or a returning legend, at one time or another, each and every one of them was beaten decisively by yours truly. I don't believe that it was the simple act of winning these matches that bothered me. After all, why would it? We all step into that ring with the intent to win, and if that's not the case, we have no business competing in the first place. At the time, back in the "glory days", it was considered a high honor to defeat former World Champions. So beating these men was a privilege, not a disappointment. No, I guess what truly bothered me deep down was that none of these so called 'legends' even came CLOSE to meeting the expectations that I had set out for them in my mind. None of them. I could start dropping names right now, but I think part of my point here, is that their names don't even matter anymore. Most of these dinosaurs have sunk down into the abyss. Their legacies, forgotten. Their sacrifices, all in vain."
With a hint of contempt in his eyes, MGK finally places the cigarette in his mouth, and lights it. After taking a long drag, he exhales. It's almost as if he never thought he'd be doing this again. Not the smoking, but the exchange of words being spirited competitors.
"So how does this tie in with that word, respect? Because I respect you, Doc. You've known that for a long time. I never stopped respecting you, not throughout all of our battles. And the reason for that, is because you are different from all the others, Doc. You've always been different. Where others failed, you excelled. You made it clear from the first time we met that you were not one of these half-assed, inept, washed up, burn-outs. Indeed, you were always exceptional."
"And again, I've got to be honest here. I've faced many exceptional men. In our line of work, exceptional doesn't mean I need to respect you. Exceptional only means that you have a chance. No, my friend, I've always respected you for one reason and one reason only, and it goes a lot further than merely being 'exceptional'. I respect you because you BEAT that respect out of me."
With a flick of his fingers, MGK ashes onto the table, clearly not concerned about its condition, seemingly implying that he is not afraid to make a mess. This act bears a striking contrast to the room around him. Spotless floor, clear glass windows highlighting the city beyond. MGK clearly doesn't care, as the ashes from his cigarette are permitted to fall wherever they please.
"Others, they merely asked for my respect. They figured, if they could hang with the Great MGK for just 5 minutes in the ring, that should be enough, whether they won or lost. If someone got one or two wins over me, but was defeated and stricken down by my hand several times more than that, they thought they had earned something. They assumed they had proven something, despite the fact that on any given night, I could walk down to the ring with one arm tied behind my back, and slap them silly merely for implying that they were even CLOSE to being my equals. Some of these guys were cool dudes, not necessarily bad people. But EQUALS to me, in the ring? I don't think so."
"See, you figured out something about me that nobody else ever could, Doc. And I personally believe that it's because, as you said, we share a lot of similarities. We are probably more alike than either of us sometimes would like to admit. Somehow, you always knew better than to try and earn my respect, or the respect of anyone else, for that matter. You always knew better than to simply punch me in the face. No, you were that one guy who realized that you've gotta punch THROUGH my fucking face in order to keep me down for good. Whenever it came to violence, whenever it came to beating a man down until he simply wasn't capable of getting back up, nothing was ever good enough for you. Every punch you threw, every superkick you gave me, every object you smashed over my head, it ALWAYS had to land harder than the last blow, because to you, nothing less would do. Nothing less would be acceptable."
"THAT'S why I respect you, Doc. THAT'S why I mentioned your name, over, and over, and over. You're 100% right about that. I didn't need to name drop other former champions, former legends, former stars, because the truth of the matter, is that I've beaten all of them. There is NOTHING in this business that I haven't done... except defeat you."
Growing visibly frustrated, MGK puts his cigarette out on the glass table, and looks down at the piece of paper that sits in front of him. He grabs the pen next to the paper, and rests his hand down, signing his signature to something.
"So there it is, my friend. My name, on a contract for an organization named All State Professional Wrestling. I wasn't sure that I wanted to do this, but seeing you back here, Doc, I simply don't have a choice at this point. Does this mean that you and I can go back to being celebrities now? Probably not. But it's a win/win situation for me, one that I can't ignore. Best case scenario, I face my demons one more time, head-on, and prove for the first, and possibly last time, that I was able to beat the Boyhood Dream himself, the Great Doc. Worst case scenario... you'll have to BEAT me within an inch one more time, to remind me of why I STILL RESPECT you. Either way, I know I won't be disappointed."
With those final words, MGK stands up, and walks around the glass table. He moves towards us, and briskly walks past the camera and out of our shot, out of the room. The final image we are left with is the shot of that same table, with MGK's signed AWF contract resting upon it, city lights still glowing in the background, barely illuminating this very dark room. Fade out.
