Post by Jacob Koenig on May 12, 2024 12:07:50 GMT -5
"The Legend of Super Mario has been put to rest. No more mushroom stomping. No more gold coin hoarding. No more unsolicited princess worship. I have exterminated that 8-bit clown once and for all. You're welcome, Action Wrestling. As my payment, I will graciously accept the Omega Championship. Tell that obscene, putrid, gutter-dwelling sideshow freak to ship it first class to Backbreaker Fight Club in Jamaica, New York." "Oh, make no mistake, Action Wrestling. I saw the advertisement for the upcoming episode of Monday Night Clash where it lists me in a match against Sicko. I suppose that's my bad for calling him out. I will make it as clear as possible so that even the simplest of ‘Wrestling Journalists’ can get it right in the clickbait: I will not be wrestling that grotesque carney fuck. If I am to reclaim my championship, I will do so quickly by locking in the Koenig Crab in record time." "You're about to witness the shortest Omega Championship Match in history, folks. I pinpointed a glaring weakness that I can exploit just by watching him walk to the ring. His knees are clearly held together with popsicle sticks and prayers. That's going to make my job even easier on Monday, and I don't feel like it's showing my hand to talk about my plan of attack. That fat fucking dweeb doesn't have the mental equity to buy a fucking hope of countering the Koenig Crab. He can gab with his imaginary friends all he wants and still not have a snowball's chance in Hell of walking out of Phoenix with my championship." The inaugural Action Wrestling Omega Champion Jacob Koenig is sparring with his best friend and BFC co-founder Jason Christopher. Though he won't need to stock up on strikes in his arsenal for his match at Clash, Jacob is getting his reps in with a fury of devastating hits to Jason's hand pads. Though Jason towers over him, Jacob shows great strength and accuracy as he throws heavy hands. When Jason has had enough-- "Jūbun'na!" Jacob backs off at the utterance of the safe word. He stretches as Jason removes the hand pads, tossing them aside. Jason massages his hands. "Are you sure you don't want to go with strikes on Monday? You’re on fire right now, Jake!" "I'm positive. Sicko's got a target on his knees, and I'm locked in to scrub him from the Badlands." "I don't get the reference." "It's just some nerd shit to keep up the facade that he's a brooding tough guy instead of an overgrown tween cosplay bitch." "Wow, man. You really don't like this guy." "I don't like most people who have tarnished the hard work I put into making the Omega Championship matter. Sicko just happens to be the worst representation of what it means to wear that title." They leave the ring together, and take a seat on a bench. Jason is still working on his hands, while Jacob takes a hefty swig from an exclusive BFC Stanley mug only available in the gift shop at the CoolWear Complex. "That title means more to me than even the greatest minds in history could explain to Sicko's wasteland of a lizard brain. I was the first to hold that title, you know. For almost a year, I defended it not only in Action Wrestling, but all over the world. Countless title defenses on six continents." "Oh, right. That's when we were setting up an event at McMurdo Station on Ross Island." "Yeah. Everything was going according to plan until Chase Jackson bested me at Evolution V. Well, Evolution VII is next month… and I'm damn sure going to walk into that event with my championship." "I've seen the carnage Sicko leaves in his wake. How are you so confident right now?" "You know I've made a living for half my life in combat sports. I've slayed giants before, and shown no fear in battle. Sicko is no different. When I'm standing across from him, all I will see are his weaknesses. Not his imposing stature or menacing appearance." Fade to more words. “Sicko, Sicko, Sicko. You've battled many foes but none quite like me. Sure, they probably all said that, but I can back up my words. Can you do the same? You're known to be resilient, strong, ruthless, while also having an embarrassingly deformed micropenis. That last part I read about on Page Six. I don't want to or need to know if that's true. What I do need is for you to take this threat to your title run seriously. You often downplay your adversaries as a coping mechanism for your innate desire to matter in this world. Underestimating me is a grave mistake, and one you are likely to make on Monday.” “Likewise, I will do my best to not underestimate you, Sicko. You tower over me and outweigh me. You're stronger than me but not in strength of character. You are mentally unwell, like many who are drawn to the sport of professional wrestling. You hide behind that mask because your grotesque reflection breaks your own psyche. I see who you really are, Sicko. You're a charlatan. You're an imposter. You're a joke. Not a joke to be laughed at. Oh no. A joke to be pitied and offered a ’bless your heart’.” “Well, Sicko… bless your heart. You've tried to show the world that you're a big, bad, man… when really you're a small, sad, boy. All that mental anguish has done a number on you, and now you are faced with the catastrophic end of your reign with my championship. They say all good things must come to an end… and you're looking at the guy who will put you out of your misery.” “In closing, I'm going to leave you with one last threat, in a dialect you'll feel right at home with, fuckface." “earzi'm gearzoing tearzo pearzut yearzou searzix fearzeet earzundearzer thearze bearzig teardrop, earzephrearzain." |