Post by Odin Balfore on Aug 22, 2018 0:44:59 GMT -5
RP 1
WCF
REVENGE
WCF Championship
Odin Balfore
Vs
Mikey Extreme ( C )
The Book of 903
Wordcount: 4917
_________________________
prologue
I am swiftly approaching either the eve my 5th coronation or my journey into WAR. It is a mixture of feelings but know that the ultimate prize is the WCF championship. WAR stats, on the other hand, as synonymous as they have become to my career, look nice on paper but not on my waist. Me and Mikey Extreme have had many matches over the years and he himself became a grand slam champion. Its respectable. He above all has earned it. Truly in the way Old Skool Dub duders should. However, a collision course is inevitable. Grand slam champion verse grand slam champion. I trust that he will give me a better fight than his boi, Steven Singh could. Mikey Extreme, after that beat down the other week, You know that paybacks comin. You know that Ragnarok is in its wake.
But this week. Oh this week. Mikey Extreme.. Body Bags on deck.
__________________________
Chapter I: The Book of 903
LyfeFort. Denmark.
When you’re butterfly pressing hicks-nova level black holes, strength becomes irrelevant but its not about the strength, its about pushing yourself. Myself. I know where I came from, not that I can ever go back to having a normal human life but I remember it. With each press of the super-massive black holes, I sculpt my body into something greater than it was the day before. I know who am I am. I am Odin Balfore, world champion; with or without the belt around my waist. The black holes pulse and throb with each inclined press. My resolve grows with each rep, flexing with a fever pitch until I throw the weights down, wipe my brow and think about my opponent at hand.
“ Mikey Extreme.
Mikey Extreme.
Mikey Extreme.
A one time friend and man that I respected, hell, I still respect him but this is the corrupting madness of power and success. I kept thinking back to all the times that Ol’ X came up short in trying his hand at the big time. All the years that he’s ground out to be passed by in the same vein that I have been passed by because he and I were not favored by Seth Lerch because we live and breath a brand of WCF that is long since past. A brand of WCF that Mikey Extreme is currently turning his back on all because he found Steven Singh and Steven Singh just wants to control everything and everyone but Singh cant control me. Singh came to me and said that he was a Golden God and I just laughed in his face. That made him uncomfortable because it brought him down to the mid level talent that he really is. Then Mikey Extreme desperate to climb higher, sick of his place and knowing he could do better and be better, he brought himself on board with the Church.
Mikey Extreme, we here in the hindsight of life, we, I -> we call that a mistake. Everything you done up till now, I can applaud because I know how hard you’ve worked to get there but now as soon as you get a taste of glory you sold out. Hell, you sold out just to even get a sniff of the dinner table because you were a Church bound choir boy right after I Ragnaroked you in order to get to Singh in the first damn place.
Sure, you can continue to write your book of Extreme but know that I’ve already read it. I have a masters degree in the book of Extreme because I know it better than you. I know you better than you. If you want to prove to the world that your win at TUS was more than just giving you your due and that you belong up here on this lonely mountain top with me - just me. I’ll tell you how that book of yours ends: It ends at Revenge. It ends with you getting Ragnaroked just the same that you got Ragnaroked back in January.
Remember that you did that to yourself. You put yourself here for the price of glory. And here's another tip from us here in the world of hindsight: What your doing is not worth the price of glory. I mean, congratulations, you’re NvL. You’re a guy who won the belt whose had his career in front of him and did nothing since winning the belt and then just fizzled out. You will fizzle out. You with the Championship WILL fade away and you’ll go back to being the King of *Extreme, asterisk; rather than just the KING. Rather than just the God. Rather than just the All Father. Rather than just the WCF World Champion.
Know that there is no, “I might not beat you.” Know that its: “I’m going to beat you.” Know that all the books that you have written has culminated in this right here, your destruction. You’re self implosion because even after all the world champions and failed attempt, the Purses, the SJWs, the FPVs, you still do not know how to wield the power or the crown that you have been handed. That right there is your mistake. All these years being arm and arm with the US and the Hardcore Championship, you still don’t know how to BE a champion, rather you know how you cover yourself with the championship like a blanket and allow it to carry you to where you currently are. Let's be clear, here's that hindsight club again:
You’re currently in DEEP TROUBLE.
You’ll see, Michael, that the WCF World championship does not lend itself so warmly to your style of getting over. Unlike the lesser belts, that can make you, the WCF is the opposite. You make it. You can go back and look at any of the seventy something world champions and look at guys like Drake, or Cyrus, Outcast or X Rated. I don’t know who they are, what they did or what they were about. The answer is: Probably nothing. Sure, like you they scooped up some belts and did ‘a thing’ but a lot of guys did things. You, Mikey Extreme are like a lot of guys. You’re still in the vast ocean of ninety-nine percenters that WCF don’t even care about.
Me? I’m a fraction. I’m a one percent of a one percent. It’s a very exclusive club, one that right now, you’re not apart of. You gotta keep in mind that even though I joined late and I’m contracted talent number 293 and we’re on 1688- you, you’re number 903.
God Damn, Jean Val Jean gettin jealous.
Do you know how many Mikey Extremes I’ve seen in six hundred and ten people? Yah, six hundred and ten.
I’m glad that in 2018 we’re celebrating the book of 903. In fact, that's what I’m going to call you from now on. You ain’t Mikey Extreme. You aint Michael. You’re not the King of Extreme. You’re not the world champion. You’re just a number.
903.
I’m glad that we’re celebrating some pleb, nearly a thousand names in and he’s just now getting his shot, after 785 people came before him.
Me, I chopped down Donald Deruty, number 136.
See the difference, 903? It took me three months. It took you three years and 785 more Mikey Extremes just like you to get your shot.
Do you still feel like the king of [ Insert witty title here ] ? Hell you arnt even the king of all the other Mikey Extremes. From where I’m standing ( read: at the top ) You’re just number 903. Perhaps you should have spent three years writing a math book and not your shitty obituary because at Revenge, I’m going to finish that one for you and all the 903’s just like you.
Get dunked on, you frog faced fucking pleb.”
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Chapter II: This aint a climb.
This aint a climb. It's a march, and you’re the dirt.
Its funny that your match after winning the WCF championship, you already felt that you were being held back and kept down and how you’re a joke. I want you to remember that because you are what you think you are. A joke. You thought it, I’m saying it. You’re a joke. You’re words. Not mine. You’re worried about being humiliated. In truth, you did that to yourself. You’re already stamping your foot trying to convince yourself ( unsuccessfully) and us ( also, unsuccessfully ) that you’re world champion. If you’re already trying to convince the world of what you are and that you deserve what you have - then you don’t deserve it. Its funny because I’m the one giving you the credit that you earned. However and moreover, it just proves that even though you’re A world champion, you’re not THEE world champion. I’m the world champion. And before you go off sayin’ that this is the pot calling the kettle black, 903, this is the Alpha lion ( me ) warding off all those young, pathetic and silly little beasts that want to overthrow me.
I’m pissing on mountain that you’re currently trying to climb and you’re going to lap up every bit of piss that I’m going to give you.
WORLD CHAMPION.
Say it with pride because in a few short days, you won’t be able to say it anymore; even though you can barely say it for yourself right now and believe it. I want you to believe it, 903. Believe it with all your heart because its not that you’re the only one that believes it. Its just that you’re the only one that cares. You should have the admiration of the locker room and all the new talent in the locker room that there is a chance- that hard work pays off.
It does not pay off. If winning TUS only to lose it in your second match after that, yah, 903, we here in hindsight, we call that ‘not paying off.’ Sure, you can be proud of what you have but know that your entire career is nothing of substance. What wars have you been in? What feuds have you been in? Who did you battle to propel your career?
I know, I know, you need another three years to figure out that answer and another 610 people before you get back to me. I mean, hey, being world champion once every three years and six hundred people is something to cherish
BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Sorry, I couldn't pretend that you’re a heroic underdog story where boy makes good is something to be happy about.
You were in the shit position. You put yourself in that underdog position and couldn't get yourself out of it except by - well - it's not a fluke but it's more serendipitous bullshit. However, if that win was all you then every lack luster failure you’ve had has also been you. It can't be both. You can't have it both ways. But I can give it to you both ways. As Ol’ Z says:
From snout to trout. From the rootah to the tootah.
But 903 gon give it to me right? Right?
Nah. It just don’t have the same ring to it, not now that I’ve reduced you to a number, a token, a click, a blip, a notch in MY career. The ultra sad part is that no one is going to remember me beating you to gain my fifth championship - not even me. We didn't have a long storied feud. We didn’t have a long storied battle. Just these few precious moments in the ring where once again the world sees that IF i got into TUS, I would have been world champion and this wrong ( read: 903 being world champion ) would never need to be righted.
But you’re world champion and need to be respected, right? Right?
HAHAHAHA
NO.
I had respect for you. Past tense. Hindsight.
And in hindsight. You never should have started the climb because you just ended up getting pissed on.
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Chapter III: Duality of a God
Red eye flight. Denmark to Milwaukee.
Sitting on the plane, traveling back the States, I rolling a coin between my knuckles, thinking about the journey that I’ve made this year from road agent and vet, back to the main roster. I think about the choice that I was given by Jam Willy and Krampus - rather the contract that I signed with Krampus to get the WCF Championship. I signed a contract with the literal devil just to hold ten pounds of leather and hold. I couldn't help but think what was wrong with me. And as I sat there in my pink dress shirt and dark blue blazer, sipping at a ginger ale, I couldn't help but think that I went wrong somewhere. I suppose being despondent and perplexed over my situation is one way to deal with it. My immortal soul hinges on my success here in WCF, caught between Jam Willy Heaven and Krampus Hell. I would say to someone else, ‘ stick with that got you to the dance’ but in truth a lot of things got me to where I am today. There is no one defining feature to Odin Balfore except for the obvious physical characteristics. I’m a multi-faceted individual that can never be looked over because I’m always right there in the front.
“ 903, I want you to now that I could have retired after ONE 2012 and been regarded as a legend. Hell, I had done more than Slickie T at that point and with greater impact. What I’m getting at is that you represent a crossroads in my career and well, what I’m getting at is that there is more than one way to be THE BAD MOTHER FUCKER. And as I sit here on my private plane, paid for by my island nation, going across the expanse of Europe and back over the Atlantic to arrive in Milwaukee, of all places to quash the 903 rebellion against WCFs true champion I can't help but think ‘ what could i have done better?’ Be it champion, wrestler, person or God, what do I need to improve on? I mean, I have the illustrious career, I have the legendary matches, the heart stopping moments and WAR is all but mine. So, 903, a man whose had scrape and claw and dig and dig and sweat and bleed for three years and for pretty much nothing; what do I gain from beating you?
You could ask yourself that. You could as the Gods that. You could pray on it. You could beg on it. In what fair and just world is it that you live in where all your hard work is dashed aside in your second match as champion. It’s not even your second defense but at least you got one.
And I think back on my duality, my charity. I got Adam Young paid. I got Adam Young his first main event pay per view for a world championship. I made Dune relevant again. I made you relevant for the first time in your career. Clearly, I’m a very charitable person. The question is: when does that stop? When does the gravy train of Odin Balfores ‘good side’ end. Is there an end? These are of course, rhetorical because everything I just mentioned is rhetorical. No one expects answers from Young or Dune or you. History expects nothing from you because history doesn't know you and I - I remember that feeling. It was a long time ago but I remember it.
I know that you’re thinking that you gotta go up. That you gotta get that rezpeckt on ya name. You’re the world champion, damn it. Nope, sorry. You’re just a luke warm body that carries it. You’re nothing more than a warm blooded mannequin that the company dumps that belt on to carry it from airport to airport, to feed it cinnabons and sabarros on request.Oh, I’m sorry, its 2018 [ insert shitty maxi-cali burrito shop here ]. You a had a great opportunity to take your stand and make your shitty X marks the spot puns. Sure, you superkicked my head in but Revenge is going to be a different scenario and since that fateful day a few weeks ago, the world champ has been rather quiet. I’m surprised considering how hard you’ve worked, for as long as you have and all this
R E Z PE K T
You wana put on your bastard of a name. See, that tells me that you’re duality is that you don’t believe in yourself and rightfully so. You’re afraid the world is going to think your a fluke because deep down you know you’re a fluke. You want people to respect you because YOU don’t respect you. However, you didnt do anything you fix that, rather you just cried to Steven Singh that you want respect but it is clear that you are unwilling to go out there and get respect. That was your goal when the Church attacked me. You wanted to make sure I knew that you were champion now and I respected that. However, as you can see, that failed.
Now you see why out of the 104 ( I fucking counted ) literally 80 don’t matter.I have seen the WCF Championship change hands 48 times. Of those 48 times, maybe 10 mattered and that's including CD and Price. So you can auto fill those 8 spots with whoever you want.
1 CD
2 Price
3 Fly
4. Steve Orbit
5. Oblivion
6. Johnny Reb
7. Bobby Cairo
8. ??
9. ??
10. ??
We’re really pushin it, 903. I mean some would put Flash or Moor or heaven fucking forbid, Gay Omega. What I’m trying to say is that, that last name is subjective and you are not subject to it. You’re name does not belong in that list because after this month you won’t matter. You won’t be champion. You’ll just be 903, fighting the church because you know after all these months that you got duped by Steven Singh to do his dirty work in trying to get the championship and keeping it off of me. Again, that regard, you’ll have failed. When we meet in that ring and fate is calling your name to do the thing, if you got the guts - you’ll find out, 903, that you are truly gutless; taken back by the fact that you are not as ready as you thought for the big time.
I’m the big time. I’m the biggest name this company has ever seen when I stepped through those door in 2011 and my name just got bigger and bigger. Bigger at Revenge. Bigger after I trounce you and you’re hobo beard back to the gimmick department of hardcore. You’re HORROR KORE because you cant be in the HONOR KORE. You cant be the one man mount rushmore that I am. Its funny too because half my career is this year. I did the bulk of my work in a total of a year and a half, combined. It took you three years to do what I did in eighteen months.
What I’m getting at is that I’m striving to be better, always. You were just striving to get started and that's the difference between you and I. I got started twenty years ago. I have a near quarter of the century on my side telling me the outcome of our match.
VICTORY.
What are ya’ll going to do after Revenge except thank CD that I’m not allowed in WAR as World Champion. 903, if I was in WAR, I’d take first in eliminations, total eliminations, second in matches and depending on my entry, first in time. I can either own WAR or I can own you. Either way, my legacy grows in this company and you’ll still be the sheepish little shit you’ve shown me to be since Showdown. Let me tell you something, too -
Lions don’t concern themselves with the thoughts of sheep. Apex Alphas like myself do not worry if the beta male prey cares about him for I do not care about you. In truth, WCF needs a leader. Dune did OK but the Church just isn't going to cut it. Not with Steven Singh as leader. I mean, you had your opportunity but 903 is just the number of failure and that's exactly what you’re going to do at Revenge. I shook this company up in 2018, watched many people come and go because I was champion and they knew they couldn't beat me. Just imagine what I’m going to do in 2019.
Because the duality of this God is not only making history but making guys like 903 not only a thing of the past but something that never existed at all.
So I have Spoken.. So it shall.. Come to pass.
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Chapter IV: Touching Down
Mitchell International Airport. Milwaukee, WI.
I touch down and make my way off my private jet in my pink shirt and blue blazer and walk through the terminal. I have my black leather gear bag in my hand as I pass fans who all look and gawk at me. They look at me for my size and my grandeur. Fans from all walks come up to me, young and old ans me for my autograph. While smiling, fist bumping, lifting kids up on my shoulder I can see two stores off to the left: Sabarro and Cinnabon. I laugh to myself because I know that either 903 has passed through here and ate there or is about to land and eat there because even though 903 is a ‘world champion,’ he is unable to carry himself as a champion and that is the main difference between us. I finish my autographs and pleasantries and continue through the airport knowing that the subtle differences between us are no longer that subtle. I’m here interacting with the fans while 903 is probably over there right now, begging for a slice, like that WCF Championship means something on his shoulder but in sad, sad, truth.
It doesn't.
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Chapter V: Honor Kore
7th Day Church of Christ. Milwaukee, WI
Sling a soup. Sling a kitchen. Yah, that's what I always say. Here I am doing good deeds and bringing good will towards men. My seven foot tall frame barely fit in the low hanging ceiling of the church's basement. Befitting too that here I am, doing charity work in the basement of the church. Well, not fitting; more ironically poetic because it represents the free meal that I’m handing out to 903. Because Seff Lerch would have wanted it that way.
So there I am, two bowles in my left hand and a ladle in my right. Makin it extra sloppy for you. You want a crust of bread, go see my boy Larry down the other end, he’ll hook you up. Today was the first day of the soup kitchen; it runs from the end of August to the end of December. If this was Seff Lerchs soup kitchen it would run 25/8- 399 but this aint the Seff Lerch soup kitchen. I serve the soup to the long line of 35 people, roughly. Give or take a stray that's gonna walk in, get fed and walk out then pretend like the whole thing didn't even happen.
But it happened.
Then I carve up the ham. Serve it to you hot. Let you savor it. Know that I’m the one that did it for you. I gave you the spot at the table because I’m a nice guy like that. Or something.
Yah. Something like that.
I make my way around the room, asking about butter, salt, pepper and assorted condiments. I ask about napkins and who needs to wipe away the goodness that I gave them from their chin. I look for the greedy ones. I look for the sloppy ones. I make sure no one is out of hand or else they gonna get these hands. Then I step outside once everyone is square; taking a break from my charity because I have real business at hand.
It was a cool night out. Full dark. Overcast skies. I stepped around the backside of the church and leaned up against an aging railing that overlooked a small river. I rub my hands together and enjoy the silence. I enjoy the silence before I enjoy the violence. A WCF camera comes around from the front; such charity work must be documented. The world needs to see the good in me. For Jam Willys sake. For my sake. I turn and look at Stu, WCFs most senior cameraman and sniff up some drippage from my face.
“ 903, make no mistake that I’m here doing charity work for you because this is not what you are doing- it's what you should be doing. You could make a case that you don’t need to be out here throwing campbells soup against wall to get over but..”
I let out a deep bellied laugh.
“BAHAHAHAHA. It would have helped you if you did. I know you 903 and don’t think I don’t. You were a man of the people. What happened to 903’s America; wheres DAT HAWT American Darkness? I don’t see it. For the life of me, I just don’t see it. All I see before me is a pasty, weak Codfish that forgot his own code. Or was it that you were never really a man of the people and you just said and did whatever you could to get over - like join the church. You’re just a desperate man and a pitiful man. After all, all you HORROR KORE K-K-Kats are all alike. You’ll sop up and cling to whatever gimmick gets you the fuck over as if the gimmick was all this business is or ever was. I’m out here in these streets with these people who were once part of your America. Sad. So Sad. Lying 903 with his low energy. Trying to collect his thoughts and find himself on a mountain top called Calvary. Your own special hill to die on. Like a dog. All while I meet your America and show them that there is something better than HORROR KORE. Perhaps you could say I’m going to Make America Great Again.
You see, I’ll introduce these people to the HONOR KORE; to people in WCF would should be admired and respected. I know that I’m very little of either but that's because of the petty jealousy in our industry. Everyone wants to be me, even you. So Sunday night, 903, I’m going to continue my charity work. I’m going to meet you in the ring. I’m going to waive my surcharge for you having to fight me and then I’m going to put you through a absolute clinic. You see, WCF needs a leader, someones that's scaled the mountain - the real mountain and not the hill that you’re about to get spiked into. WCF needs someone whos willing to go out there and meet people. Greet people. These fans. People that used to be fans of yours until you questioned your own success and stopped showing the fuck up to work every week. Funny how you were on SLAM every week for three years going until you want 10 pounds of leather and gold and then *poof* no more 903 and his weak sauce storytelling and his weak sauce gimmick and his weak sauce finisher and his weak sauce life.
So to answer you question of ‘can I do it;” the answer is: NO.
Sorry (not sorry) 903 but this is a fight that you simply cannot win. You got paid the same way these people here tonight got fed. Somebody felt sorry for you and gave you a hand out. To that end, you’ve not been gracious. You’ve not showed up and you’ve not been around. It’s not a good look for you.
But hey, Sunday night you get to change all that, right, right? Right. You get to shut me up and put the doubters to rest. Except for yourself. Its OK though because we’re going to fight either way.
HORROR KORE verse HONOR KORE
One of the very best this company has to offer against well - whatever you are.
I’m going to humble you, 903. I’m going to make you realize that you are a fluke to yourself and to this industry. Remember that a leader leads and a follower... Whelp, you’re in the church, you know how that goes. I’m k-k-k-k-umming for you, 903. Revenge is the end of the line. I’m going to show you with pressing dominance that HORROR KORE is NO MATCH for HONOR KORE. Then when it's all said and done and I'm standing over your slain and broken body - you'll know who the better man always is and where you'll forever stand as my foot crushes your chest and my hand holds that belt up high.
Ragnarok is coming, 903, and my glory in its wake.
NOW GET READY TO SUCK MY DICK
~FINN
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ooc: To ol' X, my boi. This is it. We doin it LIVE up in here. Best of luck, my friend.