Post by JFK on Oct 12, 2009 17:26:52 GMT -6
You know, if you really think about, I mean really really think about it, our X-Treme Division is not unlike that of a Kingdom. It has all the same players as a Kingdom, it has its head of state like a kingdom, it even has its own wars like that of Kingdoms past. And this Sunday at Road to the Gold 3, will be no different, it will be a war boy's, what role will you play? I can tell you the role I will play, and what I will become in the outcome, but let’s go back to my original thought first shall we? How does JFK think that the players in this game are like those of a Kingdom's of lore? We to start, we should give our Kingdom a name shouldn’t we? Let’s call it...
First player in this Kingdom is not a major one, but as stories of lore will tell us, could be a vital one. Fergus Callaghan. Now, some might call him the jester, but not me. I don’t think he plays the clown, no, he's more like that big burly drunk at the bar, you know the one in medieval times that would drink everyone under the table and ask for more. The same guy that no matter how much he had to drink, is ready to throw down at a moment’s notice, ready to defend his friends, and his country, that's Fergus. He's the big dumb drunken oaf who will smash your skull in, a wrecking ball in the ring, but a challenger to the crown? No. Not so much.
Then we have Shaddix, he's easy. He's the Black Knight of our Kingdom, the evil warlord whose come for the crown and will stop at nothing to get it, but like most Black Knights, he has no plan, he lacks strategy, what he has in fighting ability, he lacks in brains. His ego is too big for his head, and he gets lost in his vision of grandeur, a threat to the crown, yes, but ultimately, like all Black Knights, he will fail to succeed. His ego and his pride will blind him, and when it does, I'll be right there to kick his teeth down his throat.
Lastly, in this Kingdom of Pain, we have the head of state. Xavier Cross, the X-Treme Champion. I wouldn’t go so far as to call him a king, and from my understanding he sure is no queen, (that hasn’t been verified by refutable sources however). No, I view Cross more of a Prince. A noble, good hearted kid, who got thrust into power before his time. Before he was truly ready to lead, to be champion, to be at the head of the table. Like I said last month, this kid Cross, he's got a bright future ahead of him, he will be a great champion...someday. But for now, well...as it is, he's just a figure head holding the place for the Kingdoms rightful ruler.
Holding the place, for me. James Franklin Karn. Now, I know you're thinking to yourself "Oh JFK's going to proclaim himself the White Knight." WRONG. I am no Knight, I am no savior. I am just a simple man, who wants simple things, yet it's my destiny to be X-Treme Champion, it's my Destiny to become what I will become, and after the Xtreme Assault X Match is over, you will all bow down before your new King.
"They think you're a pretty boy."
We head Price's voice as the scene opens up at Fifth Element Records in Uptown, Minneapolis. For those that are unaware, this is a hip hop record and accessory store ran by Rhymesayers Entertainment. We see JFK walking along looking at some hoodies and sweat shirts as Price crouches on top of the floor rack of cd's. If he were alive he'd get yelled at about this, but since only JFK can see or hear him, there's no issue.
"Hrm?"
"I said they think you're a pretty boy, too afraid to get his face scratched up by a little barb wire, and to be honest, I think they might be right."
"Well, like them, you, are a fool. And completely wrong."
JFK is talking in a low tone, the kid working behind the counter eye balls him for a second, shakes his head and goes back to his latest issue of Wax Poetic.
"A fool is I? I'm not the one who's going to be involved in one of this most brutal matches of the night, say what you will about the Kane's but that is only two men fighting each other, this match, this, Xtreme Assault X Match. It's matches like these that make me giddy in my pants."
"I really didn’t need to know that."
"What I'm saying is, this match, with the barbwire ropes, the barbwire X, it's going to be brutal, man...I wish I was alive I'd love to take part in a match like this."
"Probably just wind up killing yourself again"
"What you say? Hey, at least I know I have a face only a mother can love, but you, I don’t get it with you, I've seen you take punishment, but, you just don’t bleed like most people, you don’t open up with shots that would split most people's heads in half. You're like that cat BJ Penn, no matter how much you punch his face, it just doesn’t show."
"Thick skin, I fault Florida weather for that."
"It's gotta be the sun, must have made your skin into some kind of lizard human hybrid or some ****."
"Or some ****."
"So you're not worried about the barbwire at all?"
"Nope, sides, my wife thinks’ scars are hot."
"That's funny so does mine."
This voice didn’t come from Price but someone else walking up from behind JFK. JFK turns around and looks up a bit to the man standing before him, standing about six foot three skinny as hell, dark hair sunken eyes, he offers his hand out.
"Sean Daley."
JFK shakes the man's hand. The man known better as Slug, from the Minnesota based hip hop group Atmosphere.
"James..."
"Franklin Karn, I know who you are man, I'm a huge fan. You'll have to excuse my slack ass employ over there, if I had known one of nCw's finest was in my shop I would have given you the grand tour myself."
"Hey man no need I'm nothing special, I like whatcha got going on in here though, hip hop isn’t really my style of music but I can appreciate artiest like yourself who try to make it more than just bitches and blunts."
"Well hey, I like alcohol also"
Both men chuckle.
"Listen, I got some time to kill, you want to call up the ladies and we can go grab a bite to eat, I'll show you what the land of a thousand lakes has to offer."
"Sounds like a plan to me, let me just pay for this..."
Slug raises his hand.
"Your money is no good here kid, take it, sides, you can cover lunch."
With that they go heading out the store, JFK rips the tag off the zip up sweatshirt and tosses it to the kid at the counter, as they head out the store he tosses the jacket on, zip's it up, and we can see the word "Atmosphere" written across the chest, it’s on that image we fade out.
Pain.
First player in this Kingdom is not a major one, but as stories of lore will tell us, could be a vital one. Fergus Callaghan. Now, some might call him the jester, but not me. I don’t think he plays the clown, no, he's more like that big burly drunk at the bar, you know the one in medieval times that would drink everyone under the table and ask for more. The same guy that no matter how much he had to drink, is ready to throw down at a moment’s notice, ready to defend his friends, and his country, that's Fergus. He's the big dumb drunken oaf who will smash your skull in, a wrecking ball in the ring, but a challenger to the crown? No. Not so much.
Then we have Shaddix, he's easy. He's the Black Knight of our Kingdom, the evil warlord whose come for the crown and will stop at nothing to get it, but like most Black Knights, he has no plan, he lacks strategy, what he has in fighting ability, he lacks in brains. His ego is too big for his head, and he gets lost in his vision of grandeur, a threat to the crown, yes, but ultimately, like all Black Knights, he will fail to succeed. His ego and his pride will blind him, and when it does, I'll be right there to kick his teeth down his throat.
Lastly, in this Kingdom of Pain, we have the head of state. Xavier Cross, the X-Treme Champion. I wouldn’t go so far as to call him a king, and from my understanding he sure is no queen, (that hasn’t been verified by refutable sources however). No, I view Cross more of a Prince. A noble, good hearted kid, who got thrust into power before his time. Before he was truly ready to lead, to be champion, to be at the head of the table. Like I said last month, this kid Cross, he's got a bright future ahead of him, he will be a great champion...someday. But for now, well...as it is, he's just a figure head holding the place for the Kingdoms rightful ruler.
Holding the place, for me. James Franklin Karn. Now, I know you're thinking to yourself "Oh JFK's going to proclaim himself the White Knight." WRONG. I am no Knight, I am no savior. I am just a simple man, who wants simple things, yet it's my destiny to be X-Treme Champion, it's my Destiny to become what I will become, and after the Xtreme Assault X Match is over, you will all bow down before your new King.
King. Of. Pain.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"They think you're a pretty boy."
We head Price's voice as the scene opens up at Fifth Element Records in Uptown, Minneapolis. For those that are unaware, this is a hip hop record and accessory store ran by Rhymesayers Entertainment. We see JFK walking along looking at some hoodies and sweat shirts as Price crouches on top of the floor rack of cd's. If he were alive he'd get yelled at about this, but since only JFK can see or hear him, there's no issue.
"Hrm?"
"I said they think you're a pretty boy, too afraid to get his face scratched up by a little barb wire, and to be honest, I think they might be right."
"Well, like them, you, are a fool. And completely wrong."
JFK is talking in a low tone, the kid working behind the counter eye balls him for a second, shakes his head and goes back to his latest issue of Wax Poetic.
"A fool is I? I'm not the one who's going to be involved in one of this most brutal matches of the night, say what you will about the Kane's but that is only two men fighting each other, this match, this, Xtreme Assault X Match. It's matches like these that make me giddy in my pants."
"I really didn’t need to know that."
"What I'm saying is, this match, with the barbwire ropes, the barbwire X, it's going to be brutal, man...I wish I was alive I'd love to take part in a match like this."
"Probably just wind up killing yourself again"
"What you say? Hey, at least I know I have a face only a mother can love, but you, I don’t get it with you, I've seen you take punishment, but, you just don’t bleed like most people, you don’t open up with shots that would split most people's heads in half. You're like that cat BJ Penn, no matter how much you punch his face, it just doesn’t show."
"Thick skin, I fault Florida weather for that."
"It's gotta be the sun, must have made your skin into some kind of lizard human hybrid or some ****."
"Or some ****."
"So you're not worried about the barbwire at all?"
"Nope, sides, my wife thinks’ scars are hot."
"That's funny so does mine."
This voice didn’t come from Price but someone else walking up from behind JFK. JFK turns around and looks up a bit to the man standing before him, standing about six foot three skinny as hell, dark hair sunken eyes, he offers his hand out.
"Sean Daley."
JFK shakes the man's hand. The man known better as Slug, from the Minnesota based hip hop group Atmosphere.
"James..."
"Franklin Karn, I know who you are man, I'm a huge fan. You'll have to excuse my slack ass employ over there, if I had known one of nCw's finest was in my shop I would have given you the grand tour myself."
"Hey man no need I'm nothing special, I like whatcha got going on in here though, hip hop isn’t really my style of music but I can appreciate artiest like yourself who try to make it more than just bitches and blunts."
"Well hey, I like alcohol also"
Both men chuckle.
"Listen, I got some time to kill, you want to call up the ladies and we can go grab a bite to eat, I'll show you what the land of a thousand lakes has to offer."
"Sounds like a plan to me, let me just pay for this..."
Slug raises his hand.
"Your money is no good here kid, take it, sides, you can cover lunch."
With that they go heading out the store, JFK rips the tag off the zip up sweatshirt and tosses it to the kid at the counter, as they head out the store he tosses the jacket on, zip's it up, and we can see the word "Atmosphere" written across the chest, it’s on that image we fade out.