Post by Graham Baker on Feb 2, 2020 14:35:29 GMT -5
We see a vignette of a fortress in the woods, and, moments later, Graham Baker emerges from the woods nearest to it, jacket on his shoulders with both of his championships around his waist. He looks to the fortress behind him, and shrugs.
"The Fortress, QDT." Baker chuckles. "Your walls are strong, Quixote. You withstood my first assault, and I'm sure you consider yourself ready for the second wave of JC Keeton, whenever-and wherever-it comes from. You've steeled yourself against any incoming waves, any inbound assaults, you've established your reputation in the championship you hold as the last of the old guard, king of the Cruiserweight division, the man who's going to save this company and build up the division upon the back of the belt that you hold. Big fish, small pond and all that, y'know how they call it." Baker looks back to the fortress. "You know what you are, and I've seen it too. I've seen it since I picked up the flag of Action's cruiserweight division, and you, for the first time in your career, felt threatened. You felt concerned, worried that Graham Baker would pry that belt out of your cold, dead fucking hands and, as such, you've felt the need to cheat to defeat me every match we've had since the beginning of this goddamn thing, since the Cruiserweight Havoc, since I, an unproven greenhorn to this company, almost managed to defeat the most prolific cruiserweight champion of this whole fucking company."
The fortress behind Baker begins to shake and fall apart, before he looks back to the camera.
"Tomorrow night, I get to show the world why you were right to be afraid of me. I get to show the world why I deserve my second shot at the Cruiserweight Championship. I get to show the world why you've needed to kick me in the balls, belt me in the fucking face, cheat and whine and cry to beat me. I get to show that you victory in Cruiserweight Havoc was a fluke, that your victory at CruiserClash was a farce, that your victory at Revolution III was a fucking embarrassment to this company, to this division, and, most importantly, to me. You see, QDT, I've learned my lesson from then. That's why I called on Keeton to back me up, that's why I know that after this match, I'll have my claim to another shot at your title, I'll have my opportunity to rip the strap right off your waist and show this company what they already know; that men like me and Keeton are the future of this division, that me and Keeton have carried this company's cruiserweights on our back, and that I, Graham Fucking Baker, am KING of the Cruiserweights."
The fortress crumbles to dust, falling into disorray, as Baker looks over his shoulder once more. He approaches the camera, crouching down so that he's close to it.
"On February 3rd, I'm going to use every weapon at my disposal, my own body as a tool of war to show the audience how much this company means to me, to show the people watching at home what this division means to me, and to show you, QDT, that this kingdom of yours is falling, that your fortress is crumbling, and that I'm going to take my flag and plant it on your corpse before I rip the belt out of your hands and carry it to Rush against Keeton to show the world what a real cruiserweight match looks like."
Baker cracks a half-smile.
"Kick that in the balls, why don't ya?"
"The Fortress, QDT." Baker chuckles. "Your walls are strong, Quixote. You withstood my first assault, and I'm sure you consider yourself ready for the second wave of JC Keeton, whenever-and wherever-it comes from. You've steeled yourself against any incoming waves, any inbound assaults, you've established your reputation in the championship you hold as the last of the old guard, king of the Cruiserweight division, the man who's going to save this company and build up the division upon the back of the belt that you hold. Big fish, small pond and all that, y'know how they call it." Baker looks back to the fortress. "You know what you are, and I've seen it too. I've seen it since I picked up the flag of Action's cruiserweight division, and you, for the first time in your career, felt threatened. You felt concerned, worried that Graham Baker would pry that belt out of your cold, dead fucking hands and, as such, you've felt the need to cheat to defeat me every match we've had since the beginning of this goddamn thing, since the Cruiserweight Havoc, since I, an unproven greenhorn to this company, almost managed to defeat the most prolific cruiserweight champion of this whole fucking company."
The fortress behind Baker begins to shake and fall apart, before he looks back to the camera.
"Tomorrow night, I get to show the world why you were right to be afraid of me. I get to show the world why I deserve my second shot at the Cruiserweight Championship. I get to show the world why you've needed to kick me in the balls, belt me in the fucking face, cheat and whine and cry to beat me. I get to show that you victory in Cruiserweight Havoc was a fluke, that your victory at CruiserClash was a farce, that your victory at Revolution III was a fucking embarrassment to this company, to this division, and, most importantly, to me. You see, QDT, I've learned my lesson from then. That's why I called on Keeton to back me up, that's why I know that after this match, I'll have my claim to another shot at your title, I'll have my opportunity to rip the strap right off your waist and show this company what they already know; that men like me and Keeton are the future of this division, that me and Keeton have carried this company's cruiserweights on our back, and that I, Graham Fucking Baker, am KING of the Cruiserweights."
The fortress crumbles to dust, falling into disorray, as Baker looks over his shoulder once more. He approaches the camera, crouching down so that he's close to it.
"On February 3rd, I'm going to use every weapon at my disposal, my own body as a tool of war to show the audience how much this company means to me, to show the people watching at home what this division means to me, and to show you, QDT, that this kingdom of yours is falling, that your fortress is crumbling, and that I'm going to take my flag and plant it on your corpse before I rip the belt out of your hands and carry it to Rush against Keeton to show the world what a real cruiserweight match looks like."
Baker cracks a half-smile.
"Kick that in the balls, why don't ya?"