Post by The Sheik on Jul 18, 2024 21:13:02 GMT -5
MXG: Kasper Van Zant.
Graves said as he adjusted his jacket, and he looked over his shoulder at the scarred and battered back of the man known as the Great King of Terror. His shoulders rose and fell as he stared at the wall, his head tilted back. Graves shrugged, and continued with a tap of his cane against the floor.
MXG: Listen, I know you need someone to blame for your loss. I get that. It is easier to blame my client, the greatest combat athlete in the entire XHF! It is easier to blame the Sheik than look in the mirror and say:
I was distracted. I was focusing on other things. I overlooked Lord Dominicus. I was overconfident.
I get that, Kasper. I get that. But facts are? They don’t make them real do they?
Graves laughed, and he undid the button of his coat. He reached up to pull off his shades, and he flicked them closed before he tucked them inside of his jacket. A hand tugged at his tie, and he paced absently.
MXG: You see this was a business decision, the Sheik doesn’t care. The Sheik doesn’t give two fucks which one of you paper champions walks into Manchester with the belt. He simply doesn’t care, but he wanted to make both of you know what was waiting for you!
And then? Once he had the WUK Heavyweight Title? He would have taken care of that piece of shit, Wesley Crane! That is all business. But Kasper? You want to make this personal! You want to pursue revenge against a man who is a killer! Make no mistake, the Sheik is a killer!
But if you want to throw your career away by calling out my client?
Graves shrugged.
MXG: That is your business.
The Sheik didn’t say anything, he just rolled his shoulders. His scarred back shifting as he shook his head, and he looked down as he took a deep breath. A low growl, even as Graves continued with a wave of his cane.
MXG: You want to what? Prove you still have it? To prove you are not a flash in the pain? That your FOUR days short of breaking the record of that motherfucker Crane was not some kind of fluke? Is that it?
Because Kasper? This isn't it. This is a suicide mission, this a lost cause! The Sheik is going to drag you from one side of the arena to the other! He is going to take years off of your career! He is going to leave you in pieces!
You think these fans will respect you after that? No, fuck no. They are just going to talk about how great you were before you were destroyed by the Great King of Terror! They are going to talk about how once you were a champion to be feared! To be respected!
But you pissed that all away to go after revenge against the Sheik! And these fans? They threw you to the wolves, Kasper!
Graves paused, spreading his arms with his cane held in his hand. He smirked, shaking his head before he continued.
MXG: Fans bring the weapons? What weapons do you think they will bring that will be of any use against a man like the Sheik! A man who is a weapon! You think they can bring anything that the Sheik can’t use to batter you into the earth?
These fans, these people you claim to love signed your death warrant!
The Sheik finally turned, eyes wild as he ripped down his keffiyeh. His teeth were bared in a snarl, drool running across his chin as he snarled as he lifted his taped hands. Fingers curled into claws before they flexed into fists. He nodded, and his scarred chest rose and fell before he stepped forward. He ripped the mic from Graves, and leaned forward.
The Sheik: kasbar! fi washintun aleasimata, sa'ahtimuk 'iilaa qutea! sawf 'ahatim jasadaki! satakun qudwatan lima sayahduth li'aeda' alshaykhi!
sa'azhir 'anani 'aezam batal fi XHF! eindama 'ahzamaku, eindama 'ahzam allurd duminikus!
sayakun hadha zaman malik al'iirhab aleazimi!
He flicked his fingers at the camera, shoving the mic back to Graves. He nodded, and he lifted the mic with a nervous look at the Sheik. He shook his head, and cleared his throat.
MXG: Kasper! In Washington DC, I will break you into pieces! I will shatter your body! You will be the example of what will happen to the enemies of the Sheik!
I will show that I am the greatest champion in the XHF! When I defeat you, when I defeat Lord Dominicus!
This will be the time of the Great King of Terror!
The Sheik hissed, snarling and spitting as he looked down at his scarred hand. And Graves shrugged, and he smirked as he spoke again.
MXG: Hey, maybe if there is anything left of you? When the Sheik walks into Night of Champions as the WUK Heavyweight Champion? He will take the rest.
But have it your way, Kasper.
He flung the mic aside, and walked off screen. The Sheik stared at the camera, eyes bulging before he shoved it aside. Then he walked off after his manager as the scene faded to black.
Graves said as he adjusted his jacket, and he looked over his shoulder at the scarred and battered back of the man known as the Great King of Terror. His shoulders rose and fell as he stared at the wall, his head tilted back. Graves shrugged, and continued with a tap of his cane against the floor.
MXG: Listen, I know you need someone to blame for your loss. I get that. It is easier to blame my client, the greatest combat athlete in the entire XHF! It is easier to blame the Sheik than look in the mirror and say:
I was distracted. I was focusing on other things. I overlooked Lord Dominicus. I was overconfident.
I get that, Kasper. I get that. But facts are? They don’t make them real do they?
Graves laughed, and he undid the button of his coat. He reached up to pull off his shades, and he flicked them closed before he tucked them inside of his jacket. A hand tugged at his tie, and he paced absently.
MXG: You see this was a business decision, the Sheik doesn’t care. The Sheik doesn’t give two fucks which one of you paper champions walks into Manchester with the belt. He simply doesn’t care, but he wanted to make both of you know what was waiting for you!
And then? Once he had the WUK Heavyweight Title? He would have taken care of that piece of shit, Wesley Crane! That is all business. But Kasper? You want to make this personal! You want to pursue revenge against a man who is a killer! Make no mistake, the Sheik is a killer!
But if you want to throw your career away by calling out my client?
Graves shrugged.
MXG: That is your business.
The Sheik didn’t say anything, he just rolled his shoulders. His scarred back shifting as he shook his head, and he looked down as he took a deep breath. A low growl, even as Graves continued with a wave of his cane.
MXG: You want to what? Prove you still have it? To prove you are not a flash in the pain? That your FOUR days short of breaking the record of that motherfucker Crane was not some kind of fluke? Is that it?
Because Kasper? This isn't it. This is a suicide mission, this a lost cause! The Sheik is going to drag you from one side of the arena to the other! He is going to take years off of your career! He is going to leave you in pieces!
You think these fans will respect you after that? No, fuck no. They are just going to talk about how great you were before you were destroyed by the Great King of Terror! They are going to talk about how once you were a champion to be feared! To be respected!
But you pissed that all away to go after revenge against the Sheik! And these fans? They threw you to the wolves, Kasper!
Graves paused, spreading his arms with his cane held in his hand. He smirked, shaking his head before he continued.
MXG: Fans bring the weapons? What weapons do you think they will bring that will be of any use against a man like the Sheik! A man who is a weapon! You think they can bring anything that the Sheik can’t use to batter you into the earth?
These fans, these people you claim to love signed your death warrant!
The Sheik finally turned, eyes wild as he ripped down his keffiyeh. His teeth were bared in a snarl, drool running across his chin as he snarled as he lifted his taped hands. Fingers curled into claws before they flexed into fists. He nodded, and his scarred chest rose and fell before he stepped forward. He ripped the mic from Graves, and leaned forward.
The Sheik: kasbar! fi washintun aleasimata, sa'ahtimuk 'iilaa qutea! sawf 'ahatim jasadaki! satakun qudwatan lima sayahduth li'aeda' alshaykhi!
sa'azhir 'anani 'aezam batal fi XHF! eindama 'ahzamaku, eindama 'ahzam allurd duminikus!
sayakun hadha zaman malik al'iirhab aleazimi!
He flicked his fingers at the camera, shoving the mic back to Graves. He nodded, and he lifted the mic with a nervous look at the Sheik. He shook his head, and cleared his throat.
MXG: Kasper! In Washington DC, I will break you into pieces! I will shatter your body! You will be the example of what will happen to the enemies of the Sheik!
I will show that I am the greatest champion in the XHF! When I defeat you, when I defeat Lord Dominicus!
This will be the time of the Great King of Terror!
The Sheik hissed, snarling and spitting as he looked down at his scarred hand. And Graves shrugged, and he smirked as he spoke again.
MXG: Hey, maybe if there is anything left of you? When the Sheik walks into Night of Champions as the WUK Heavyweight Champion? He will take the rest.
But have it your way, Kasper.
He flung the mic aside, and walked off screen. The Sheik stared at the camera, eyes bulging before he shoved it aside. Then he walked off after his manager as the scene faded to black.
