Post by Corey Black on Sept 4, 2016 16:59:04 GMT -5
The Dethfort is Corey Black's castle home on a cliff in Denmark. It overlooks a small village on the coast. It's a cloudy, foggy night, and the castle is glowing. Lights coming from every window. The view from the village is awe-inspiring. Inside the castle, though, there's a celebration going on. In the living area, above the fireplace on the mantle, sits the King of the Deathmatch trophy. Standing before it, gazing at the beauty, is Corey Black. The torches on the wall reflect off the golden finish, sparkling with glory. Beside the trophy is the jagged crown that was placed upon Corey's head in the coronation. A moment passes as Corey reminisces upon the week he had, but it is just a moment. Corey walks through a hallway and to a stone spiral staircase behind a locked door. Down into a musky, dirty dungeon he walks.
A ratted ring awaits Corey on a dirt floor. Corey slides in and hits the ropes. Duist flies off them, the ring hasn't been used for a decent amount of time. This is where Corey trains when he isn't at the WCF Performance Center, training those who might be the very next WCF Superstar. The dungeon isn't for rolling around and doing the basics, though. This is for the the battles - the fights Corey has every so often. Where he needs to be able to strike harder, hit faster, and be able to go the distance. The roof is only a few feet above Corey's head, and he reaches up to pull down a wooden dummy on a hinge. It swings down into the ring, held up bu the hinge on the roof. Corey slides out of the ring, activates a camera on the wall, and slides on a shirt - which he keeps facing away from the camera. With his back to the audience, Corey slides in and bounces off the ropes toward the wood dummy, hitting a big elbow strike. A few wood chips fly off the dummy after being struck by the most dangerous weapon in all of WCF. Corey isn't done though. He leans on the ropes once again, this time leaping into the air and striking the dummy with the bottom of his foot. More wood chips fly off, not as many, but still a respectable amount. Corey leans back on the ropes once again and begins speaking.
Corey Black
So Danny Anderson vanishes for almost a year garnering a ‘meh’ from everyone. Nobody missed Danny. Nobody looked for him. There was no hashtag where is Danny Anderson trending on Twitter. He wass just gone, and now back. Another body to fill out a roster to everyone except … you guessed it, Danny Anderson. This man has competed on exactly three pay per view events. He’s little more than a rookie here in WCF, and yet because he was given a stupid DRG patch, Danny suddenly believes he is the best wrestler of all time. He thought he could waltz in and take the US Title with one hand tied behind his back. He thought he could win the Internet Title and gain entry to Ultimate Showdown.
Danny Anderson thought he could turn up to WCF after one match in over a year, stand face to face with the World Champion and ask for a title match. Except Spencer Adams snuffed him out. Then it was back to jerking the curtain with ol’ Danny Boy. You can’t fault the poor man, Bates put it in his head that because he wore the colors of the Dark Riders he was untouchable. Disappointing loss after disappointing loss clouded by the words of Thomas Bates. He had a reason to fight, defend the club. Make Papa Bates proud even while accomplishing absolutely nothing. Come back and ask for a World Title Match. You can take the DRG out of WCF, but you can’t take the mentality out of the men. They want you to think they aren’t slimeballs, but by George, they’re the slimiest balls that have ever graced a ring.
Last week I stood in the ring and asked for a match with Thomas Bates, the very same thing Danny Anderson did with Stuart Slane. The difference in my scenario is that I was victorious in six matches within a week span. A feat never before even attempted, let alone accomplished. I beat five other men, one twice, in six deathmatches. Danny Anderson hasn’t even won six singles matches in his entire WCF career. So what qualifies Dan here to be so close to the main event? Why would his third return garner such interest? It’s simple, really, and usually the only reason plebs like him even smell the top of the card. When you’re put into a match with me, your stock skyrockets for a day. Then once I beat you within an inch of your life, your stock plummets faster than they did on October 29th, 1929. That day was known as Black Tuesday. When I crush yet another member of DRG, they’ll call it Corey Black Sunday. The day Thomas Bates realized he’s losing whatever gold he’s willing to put on the line against me as I plow through whatever former members are man enough to step into the ring with me. Call up Mikey eXtreme and ask him how it is to fight me in 2016. Ask Odin Balfore, Triple A, Psychopomp, Adam Young - hell ask the whole company. There is no excuse anymore. There is no "Corey Black's time is up." No more new era. This is still my company, and I'll prove it until the day I die.
Now, earlier I went on the web and said - to his proverbial face - that Danny Anderson is a cuck. A bit of a buzzword. Lots of people using it without actually knowing what it means. Danny Anderson gets off on watching a bigger, stronger man run through the company he loves enough to leave and come back to over and over - because he can't get the job done himself. Thomas Bates is literally fucking WCF and it makes Danny Anderson want to come back to get a front row seat. He just can't stay away, even if everyone else wants him to, it's his kink and it is disgusting. I won't stand for it, and nobody else should either.
Corey launches his body forward, once again thrusting the bottom of his foot into the dummy. Even more wood chips fly off now, he's worked himself up with this promo. He's angered at everyone. After the outburst, he once again leans backward on the rope, not facing the camera - not giving Danny Anderson the time of day.
Corey Black
You're lower than the men I beat, Danny. If Nikki were here, she'd be the one speaking to you. Alas, No amount of memes or hashtags will win this for you, Danny. We aren't in a pissing contest over Twitter, this is the real deal. Show me Danarky. Show me this being you have inside you that presumably makes you more powerful. I call bullshit on that for one reason, and one reason alone - you're not that guy. You're about as mentally unstable as a rock. Your Danarky nonsense is nothing more than discount Creeping Death without the cause. Let me break this down for you. You can't just 'release' something like that. It doesn't manifest at will. It takes something horrendous to create a beast like that inside you. I saw things no man, let alone child, should have ever laid eyes upon. Creeping Death formed inside me in a life or death situation. Danarky formed inside you to make you think you have an edge. Oh, your daddy hit you too? Did he bludgeon your siblings? Or did he just hit you because you're a mouthy little prick that craves attention and isn't good enough to have the spotlight without breaking the rules? You're a typical man that peaked in high school and tries to do everything he can to maintain the 'badboy' image because that's how you grew up. Daddy spanked you so you think you're the ultimate badass when in reality you're a punk bitch at best.
You have no idea what you're walking into at Slam. I'll rip you apart pillar to post, make you wish you were back at the Lakeview Shock Incarceration Correctional Facility. Am I supposed to be afraid of a man that did time? Give me a break, you have been a wrestler for like a year. One whole year Danny, what could you have possibly learned that I haven't? I've forgot more than you know. Yet you still seem confident coming into to this. I haven't seen a single Tweet from you, as if you are overlooking me and focusing on something you have on the horizon. The only thing you should have lined up after this match with me is a hospital room and another vacation.
No DRG backup now, you're on your own, Danny. There isn't an endless stream of nameless sidekicks that nobody will ever remember. Just Danny standing up for what Danny believes in. Problem is you don't have a purpose. You don't have a life. You were beat as a kid, spend your adult years in the pen, and joined a biker gang. Literally your life in one sentence. No accomplishments, no relationships, no reason to live at all. You're wasting oxygen on this planet by simply existing. How many people have you met, used, and then discarded? Bryan Payne, perhaps? He's now rotting away because he was involved in a 'charitable and good' biker GANG. Unfortunate, but a sad reality. You belong locked up, Danny. You do not contribue one single iota to anyone or anything. You barely contribute to WCF as it is, I can only imagine how you feel after I beat you worse than your father ever could. By the end of this match, you're going to be calling me Papa Corey,and tattooing the Creeping Death insignia on your fucking face. You'll resort to petty theft because you won't be able to afford the hospital bill, stealing women's underwear because it's easier to hide. JC Pennys has amazing theft prevention, though, so you'll be sent right back to Lakeview Shock Incarceration Correctional Facility where you'll spend the rest of your useless life rotating between showering, sleeping, eating, yard time and the library. Nobody will visit you. Nobody will call you. Nobody will write you. Nobody will even remember you.
Usually I come into matches with respect for my opponent, but not for you, Danny. You're a blemish on WCF's already pocked face. The remnants of DRG need to be erraticated, seemingly one by one, and I'm well on my way to doing it. Do not weep for Danny Anderson, for he is already dead.
The bells, Danny.
They toll for you.
For the last time, Corey Black lunges forward and puts his foot into the wooden dummy, this time cracking the log in half. It crumbles to the ground in pieces, Corey breathing heavily but not winded. He's excited. He's working on a new weapon to unleash upon WCF. And his t-shirt.. his t-shirt is a clue.
A ratted ring awaits Corey on a dirt floor. Corey slides in and hits the ropes. Duist flies off them, the ring hasn't been used for a decent amount of time. This is where Corey trains when he isn't at the WCF Performance Center, training those who might be the very next WCF Superstar. The dungeon isn't for rolling around and doing the basics, though. This is for the the battles - the fights Corey has every so often. Where he needs to be able to strike harder, hit faster, and be able to go the distance. The roof is only a few feet above Corey's head, and he reaches up to pull down a wooden dummy on a hinge. It swings down into the ring, held up bu the hinge on the roof. Corey slides out of the ring, activates a camera on the wall, and slides on a shirt - which he keeps facing away from the camera. With his back to the audience, Corey slides in and bounces off the ropes toward the wood dummy, hitting a big elbow strike. A few wood chips fly off the dummy after being struck by the most dangerous weapon in all of WCF. Corey isn't done though. He leans on the ropes once again, this time leaping into the air and striking the dummy with the bottom of his foot. More wood chips fly off, not as many, but still a respectable amount. Corey leans back on the ropes once again and begins speaking.
Corey Black
So Danny Anderson vanishes for almost a year garnering a ‘meh’ from everyone. Nobody missed Danny. Nobody looked for him. There was no hashtag where is Danny Anderson trending on Twitter. He wass just gone, and now back. Another body to fill out a roster to everyone except … you guessed it, Danny Anderson. This man has competed on exactly three pay per view events. He’s little more than a rookie here in WCF, and yet because he was given a stupid DRG patch, Danny suddenly believes he is the best wrestler of all time. He thought he could waltz in and take the US Title with one hand tied behind his back. He thought he could win the Internet Title and gain entry to Ultimate Showdown.
Danny Anderson thought he could turn up to WCF after one match in over a year, stand face to face with the World Champion and ask for a title match. Except Spencer Adams snuffed him out. Then it was back to jerking the curtain with ol’ Danny Boy. You can’t fault the poor man, Bates put it in his head that because he wore the colors of the Dark Riders he was untouchable. Disappointing loss after disappointing loss clouded by the words of Thomas Bates. He had a reason to fight, defend the club. Make Papa Bates proud even while accomplishing absolutely nothing. Come back and ask for a World Title Match. You can take the DRG out of WCF, but you can’t take the mentality out of the men. They want you to think they aren’t slimeballs, but by George, they’re the slimiest balls that have ever graced a ring.
Last week I stood in the ring and asked for a match with Thomas Bates, the very same thing Danny Anderson did with Stuart Slane. The difference in my scenario is that I was victorious in six matches within a week span. A feat never before even attempted, let alone accomplished. I beat five other men, one twice, in six deathmatches. Danny Anderson hasn’t even won six singles matches in his entire WCF career. So what qualifies Dan here to be so close to the main event? Why would his third return garner such interest? It’s simple, really, and usually the only reason plebs like him even smell the top of the card. When you’re put into a match with me, your stock skyrockets for a day. Then once I beat you within an inch of your life, your stock plummets faster than they did on October 29th, 1929. That day was known as Black Tuesday. When I crush yet another member of DRG, they’ll call it Corey Black Sunday. The day Thomas Bates realized he’s losing whatever gold he’s willing to put on the line against me as I plow through whatever former members are man enough to step into the ring with me. Call up Mikey eXtreme and ask him how it is to fight me in 2016. Ask Odin Balfore, Triple A, Psychopomp, Adam Young - hell ask the whole company. There is no excuse anymore. There is no "Corey Black's time is up." No more new era. This is still my company, and I'll prove it until the day I die.
Now, earlier I went on the web and said - to his proverbial face - that Danny Anderson is a cuck. A bit of a buzzword. Lots of people using it without actually knowing what it means. Danny Anderson gets off on watching a bigger, stronger man run through the company he loves enough to leave and come back to over and over - because he can't get the job done himself. Thomas Bates is literally fucking WCF and it makes Danny Anderson want to come back to get a front row seat. He just can't stay away, even if everyone else wants him to, it's his kink and it is disgusting. I won't stand for it, and nobody else should either.
Corey launches his body forward, once again thrusting the bottom of his foot into the dummy. Even more wood chips fly off now, he's worked himself up with this promo. He's angered at everyone. After the outburst, he once again leans backward on the rope, not facing the camera - not giving Danny Anderson the time of day.
Corey Black
You're lower than the men I beat, Danny. If Nikki were here, she'd be the one speaking to you. Alas, No amount of memes or hashtags will win this for you, Danny. We aren't in a pissing contest over Twitter, this is the real deal. Show me Danarky. Show me this being you have inside you that presumably makes you more powerful. I call bullshit on that for one reason, and one reason alone - you're not that guy. You're about as mentally unstable as a rock. Your Danarky nonsense is nothing more than discount Creeping Death without the cause. Let me break this down for you. You can't just 'release' something like that. It doesn't manifest at will. It takes something horrendous to create a beast like that inside you. I saw things no man, let alone child, should have ever laid eyes upon. Creeping Death formed inside me in a life or death situation. Danarky formed inside you to make you think you have an edge. Oh, your daddy hit you too? Did he bludgeon your siblings? Or did he just hit you because you're a mouthy little prick that craves attention and isn't good enough to have the spotlight without breaking the rules? You're a typical man that peaked in high school and tries to do everything he can to maintain the 'badboy' image because that's how you grew up. Daddy spanked you so you think you're the ultimate badass when in reality you're a punk bitch at best.
You have no idea what you're walking into at Slam. I'll rip you apart pillar to post, make you wish you were back at the Lakeview Shock Incarceration Correctional Facility. Am I supposed to be afraid of a man that did time? Give me a break, you have been a wrestler for like a year. One whole year Danny, what could you have possibly learned that I haven't? I've forgot more than you know. Yet you still seem confident coming into to this. I haven't seen a single Tweet from you, as if you are overlooking me and focusing on something you have on the horizon. The only thing you should have lined up after this match with me is a hospital room and another vacation.
No DRG backup now, you're on your own, Danny. There isn't an endless stream of nameless sidekicks that nobody will ever remember. Just Danny standing up for what Danny believes in. Problem is you don't have a purpose. You don't have a life. You were beat as a kid, spend your adult years in the pen, and joined a biker gang. Literally your life in one sentence. No accomplishments, no relationships, no reason to live at all. You're wasting oxygen on this planet by simply existing. How many people have you met, used, and then discarded? Bryan Payne, perhaps? He's now rotting away because he was involved in a 'charitable and good' biker GANG. Unfortunate, but a sad reality. You belong locked up, Danny. You do not contribue one single iota to anyone or anything. You barely contribute to WCF as it is, I can only imagine how you feel after I beat you worse than your father ever could. By the end of this match, you're going to be calling me Papa Corey,and tattooing the Creeping Death insignia on your fucking face. You'll resort to petty theft because you won't be able to afford the hospital bill, stealing women's underwear because it's easier to hide. JC Pennys has amazing theft prevention, though, so you'll be sent right back to Lakeview Shock Incarceration Correctional Facility where you'll spend the rest of your useless life rotating between showering, sleeping, eating, yard time and the library. Nobody will visit you. Nobody will call you. Nobody will write you. Nobody will even remember you.
Usually I come into matches with respect for my opponent, but not for you, Danny. You're a blemish on WCF's already pocked face. The remnants of DRG need to be erraticated, seemingly one by one, and I'm well on my way to doing it. Do not weep for Danny Anderson, for he is already dead.
The bells, Danny.
They toll for you.
For the last time, Corey Black lunges forward and puts his foot into the wooden dummy, this time cracking the log in half. It crumbles to the ground in pieces, Corey breathing heavily but not winded. He's excited. He's working on a new weapon to unleash upon WCF. And his t-shirt.. his t-shirt is a clue.
