Post by Mikey eXtreme on Mar 3, 2019 20:34:02 GMT -5
THE BOOK OF EXTREME
Dark Days in Iowa
I
Dark Days in Iowa
I
Michael X had done it again, he had won the Hardcore Championship declaring himself the most violent competitor on the roster. It was a Championship that he had chased since his debut inside the WCF ring, a championship that he would fail to grasp on a few occasions. A Championship that he had to fight hard for. Now, for the second time Michael could claim that without a shadow of doubt, he was the deadliest wrestler on the roster. A claim that many would already apply to the Dark Prophet, but a claim that could be backed up with gold. A claim that Michael X was proud of. He was the Hardcore Champion and there was nobody on the roster that was going to challenge that. There was nobody on the roster that could take that belt away from him.
This was leading to Michael X becoming bored. There was no true competition for him. Nobody that deserved to be in the ring with him, nobody that deserved to challenge for HIS championship. There was nobody that he was afraid of stepping in the ring with. Nobody that he thought posed a risk to his success and with that he was searching for something else. So what else was there to do? Where to go from here? How about a week off?
But, there was something easier than taking a week off.
A match with Vincent Augustine. A match with a useless bum whose career is defined by holding a championship designed for low level jobbers who couldn’t make it in matches with true competition. This was proven time and time again when Vincent stepped into the ring. He just never looked like he belonged, and that was because he truly didn’t. Michael X had already dealt with him twice before and in a few short days, would increase that number.
Michael X: It’s funny, you know.
Michael X laughed
Michael X: You have guys like Vincent Augustine on the roster, guys that don’t belong here. Guys that can’t make it on their own. Guys that when put in the thick of things, they crumble right in front of your eyes, and trust me, I’ll be making Vincent crumble again.
He just doesn’t have it, I’ve looked Vincent in the eyes. I’ve stood toe to toe with him twice in the past month and if I didn’t have the dead weight of Jaice Wilds, Vincent would have two losses to me under his belt, but alas, Jaice Wilds sucks.
But, so does Vincent.
Who sucks more?
Well, that’s hard to answer.
Vincent Augustine did get further than Wilds got in the Tag League, but was that on the back of Jayson Price? It had to be because we all know that Vincent Augustine doesn’t have an ounce of talent. He doesn’t have that killer instinct that you need in this business to get the job done. He just kind of lingers around and picks up wins here and there. He preys on the weakest of the weak in order to make himself appear to matter..
But he won’t find that here. He’s going to be exposed for the entire world to see again. He’s going to eat a superkick right in the middle of that ring and I’m going to let him lay there as the ref counts him down for the ten. Why? Because I am that much better than Vincent Augustine. I am everything that Vincent wishes that he could be. I am what Vincent Augustine strives to be when he steps into that ring, but it’s something that he can never obtain. It’s something that he knows can only happen in his dreams.
I’ve done so much here in the WCF and,
Michael taps the Hardcore Championship that’s draped over his shoulder,
Michael X: And I’m still doing so much.
Michael smiled,
Michael X: I can see that jealousy swelling up inside of you, Vincent. I can see that hatred growing. Why can’t you be as good as me, right? You try as hard as you can, you do everything that you can think of to get ahead but yet there you are, trailing me. There you are in the shadows, nothing but a mere afterthought. Many WCF fans have to sit back and try to remember who the hell you even are, and I don’t blame them, Vincent because I have to do the same thing.
I seen the card, I had to do a quick Wikipedia search for you, but that wasn’t successful at all.
II
It was dark outside, Michael couldn’t see an inch in front of his face. He slid his hand into his back pocket, grabbed his phone, and turned on his flashlight. His eyes peered towards the time, 3:27 AM. Michael had no idea where he was, He had a stinging headache, probably from the whiskey. He and Vidalia had gone out drinking. Where was Vidalia?
Where was he?
He spun around, shining the flashlight around. How did he get here? Where was his car? There was nothing around him besides what looked like miles of empty road. He took a deep breath, there was no service on his phone, but he checked his last messages. He had texted Vidalia that he would meet her at the hotel later because he had business that had to be taken care of.
Business? Michael didn’t remember sending the text. He didn’t have any business that he was aware of. They were in Iowa for one reason and one reason only, WCF Slam. Michael X vs Vincent Augustine in a rematch that nobody wanted or needed. A rematch that made no sense for anyone involved. Vincent would go into this match looking for another loss while Michael X would go into this match looking like a bully ready to maul.
So, why was Michael in this situation? Why was Michael lost in the middle of Iowa with no car, no cell phone service, and not an idea how to get out of this situation. He would have to walk until he could find help or cell service. He walked for nearly three miles before finally seeing headlights in the distance. They slowly approached, and Michael stuck out his thumb to hitch a ride. The car slowly pulled up to him, rolling down the passenger window only enough to be able to speak to Michael.
Michael heard the car locks click to make sure they were in fact locked.
Man: Are.. You okay?
Michael smiled, he didn't want to scare the man away. He needed him, much like Vincent Augustine needed a big win over an established name. He needed this ride back to civilization just as much as Vincent Augustine needed talent.
Michael X: Yeah, you see, my car broke down and..
Man: Is that blood?
What? Michael looked down at his clothes for the first time since waking up in a field and they were covered in a dark substance. Was it blood? It sure did look like it, but he couldn’t be sure. He didn’t know why there would be blood on him or where it came from but he looked back towards the man whose eyes were large, Michael could see the fear growing in him. He couldn’t have the man take off on him now because he would surely send the cops his way and he didn’t need an unnecessary questions right now.
Michael X: What? This? No. My car was having problems and I climbed underneath it to check, must be transmission fluid. It’s so dark out here I didn’t even know it got onto me.
The man doesn’t know enough about cars to know if Michael is telling the truth or not, but he thinks Michael looks like a standup guy. He doesn’t look like some crazy killer, just a normal everyday guy.
Man: Where are you headed? I can take you as far as Oskaloosa.
Michael didn’t know shit about Iowa. He had never heard of Oskaloosa, was that a town? A city? A hotel? A gas station?
Michael X: I’m sorry, I’m not from around here. I’ve got,
Michael has to think fast, he doesn’t want to let the man know that he’s a professional wrestler. The man didn’t make the connection right away and Michael wants to stay somewhat anonymous.
Michael X: I’ve got family over in Des Moines, is that close?
Man: About an hour away, I can drop you off in Oskaloosa and you can call someone to pick you up, or you can at least get a tow truck over there and get your car situated. I didn’t pass any car on the way over here so we can stop on the way over there if you need to pick anything up.
Michael had almost hoped the man had seen a car on the way towards him.
Michael X: Yeah, that’s great. I really appreciate this, man.
Michael would have to figure out how to deal with not finding a car on the way towards Oskaloosa, but that could wait until the time arrived. For now, Michael had to figure out what the hell happened.
III
Today was the day, or the night, rather. A long and mysterious week that had plagued Michael’s mind was coming to an end. He would set foot inside the ring with Vincent Augustine, beat him pillar to post, and then finally get the hell out of Iowa.
That couldn’t happen soon enough.
Michael was going through the motions, smiling at arena employees. Saying hello to WCF staff as he passed them on his way towards the locker rooms. While it was true that most wrestlers used the same locker room, Michael had somehow gotten the WCF to supply him with his own locker room for himself, Vidalia, and Freakshow. Michael was too important to be changing with the rest of the boys, and would require his own locker room.
He would be taking on Vincent Augustine in a non-title match, towards the end of the broadcast. A non-title match because Vincent didn’t deserve one. It wasn’t that Michael wasn’t open to putting the belt up against everyone he stepped foot in the ring with, but there had to be a reason for it. He wasn’t going to hand Vincent a championship match just for showing up, no. That wasn’t how things worked. That wasn’t how Michael X was going to allow things to happen.
Vincent had already lost to Michael X and did not deserve a second match, let alone a match that would be for the gold. If, and this was a very big if, IF Vincent could somehow defeat the King of eXtreme in a match, then maybe he would be next in line for a hardcore championship match. But, that was hard to fathom, Vincent Augustine would have to do the unthinkable and defeat the Greatest Competitor in the History of WCF. He would have to do the impossible and actually win a match that mattered.
Michael and his entourage made their way towards their locker room, opened the door, and entered. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was theirs and theirs only. Freakshow was carrying Michael’s bag that contained his ring gear. Though Ol’ X wrestled in what appeared to be what he wore to the arena, there was still knee pads and the works that he wore underneath. He might throw caution to the wind inside that ring but he did take measures to make sure that he was doing the best that he could to stay injury free. He didn’t want to miss anymore time due to another injury.
Freakshow dropped the bag on the bench in the middle of the room while Michael looked around the room.
Michael X: Tonight is the night.
A smile came across his face.
Michael X: Tonight, I step through that curtain as the HARDCORE CHAMPION once again. Tonight I step through that curtain with all eyes on me. This night is not about Bonnie Blue. This night isn’t about Alex Richards and Odin Balfore. This night is about me and ONLY me.
I’ve been gifted an easy win for the world to witness the rise of the Hardcore Championship once again. Guys like Vincent Augustine are a dime a dozen, they show up, take their beatings, and they show up again. They sit back, taking loss after loss, just waiting for their time. Waiting for someone to recognize them for their longevity. Waiting for someone to say, ‘Hey, great job man. Next week you’re going to get a title match.’
That’s Vincent Augustine in a nutshell. He shows up, he loses, and occasionally he gets rewarded for his patience. But sometimes, he gets put into spots like these. He gets put into spots that have no rewards. Sometimes the little dog gets fed to the big nasty pitbull.
Tonight is the night that I slaughter this little chihuahua in the middle of the ring.
This is a fucking guy that lost to a guy that has piss running through his veins. How do you lose to old man Price and then think that you have what it takes to step inside that ring with the definition of Violence? How do you think that you have what it takes to defeat the KING of eXtreme? How do you think that you stand a chance at all in this match?
Vidalia laughs.
Vidalia: He’s not that stupid.
Michael smiles as he looks into her eyes before looking down towards his bag. He opens it up and begins to pull out his knee and elbow pads. He also pulls out a bottle of tylenol that he knows he is going to need later on. Also inside the bag, Vidalia’s ring attire for the night. She’s going to look stunning as usual.
Michael X: Oh, but he is, Vi. He thinks that he can win this match and ride that momentum into the future. He thinks that this is the match that will finally propel him to where he sees himself when he dreams of the big lights.
He’ll see those big lights though, because he’ll be put to sleep during this match. He’ll be left unconscious in the middle of that ring as another victim of the DARKNESS. He’ll be left in a pool of his blood as I walk out of the ring unscathed and ready to roll on to the next one.
I’m a fucking champion for a reason, and Vincent is a bottom feeding curtain jerking jobber that has lucked himself to the top of the card tonight and I’ll be sure to show the world what happens when you mix the trash where it doesn’t belong.
Vincent Augustine is nothing but trash. He is untalented and he doesn’t have what it takes to last in this world. Tonight maybe, just maybe, he’ll finally see that.
Michael laughed. He wasn’t holding anything back in this match. He was looking to seriously hurt Vincent Augustine and render him useless for the future. He was looking to show the world one opponent at a time why he was the most sadistic athlete the WCF has ever seen.
Vincent was just another body to be left in the trenches. Ol’ X was looking for blood and he was going to find it. He was going to enjoy it. He was going to hold that championship high above his head and show the world why he was Hardcore.[/font]
