Post by The Mad King on Jul 3, 2023 19:10:28 GMT -6
Editor's Note -- The following is in direct reply to Narumi Tsutsumi and Samantha Hamilton's Scars & Stripes segment; however, it also introduces a few things: 1. Poshmint, who will be replacing Chanel; 2. Featuring Morgan Darkwater (Dave approved!); 3. It felt silly not to write this in a way that could be usable by more immediate opponents, so I've also basically posted some preamble for the promo pieces to come for Invasion and The Belly as well. Please note, seriously, that I am not one of those people who bleeds character work into my personal life or vice versa. This is a "shoot style" piece. I have less than 0% interest in actually "shooting" on anyone here, past or present. This is character development. Hopefully it's enjoyable.
Scene; Sports Entertainment, Part I.
When last we left our heroes: Scars and Stripes saw King Flip reinstated in the loving green arms of one bearded fuck. King Flip and Chanel made their mark against Kendrick Kross. This time watching only from backstage for the rest of the evening. On the red eye home... Chanel continued to worry, ultimately succumbing to sleep as King Flip watched. And watched. Hed only catch a few hours before landing back in Sacramento. Chanel could barely stay awake for the Uber and The Mad King was watching the Pay Per View again. We approach King's personal home about mod-afternoon; a small snafu at Sac International of all places. Because irony. The two of them all in all, however, meet two more as they settle back in.
We open with King Flip in his Brawl-red dress attire. A nice, if not obnoxiously large, white bowtie with a blood splash motif. He sits sternly upon a vintage wooden throne. Upon it carved the faces of women, little babies, and two mighty eagles wearing crowns upon the top two corners of the chair. Sitting upon King Asshole's ridiculous desk is but one lone photograph today. The Kingpin. This juxtaposes with one towering terror behind The Mad King. On this lovely Saturday afternoon it isn't just the near-covered-with-title-belts wall, nay; standing tall and impressive to King's right is the good Lord Captain Morgan Darkwater. The same man Mad King has played the dungeons and the dragons with. The same man King loaned literally a ship cannon from. Big Morgan. He stares menacingly with his big beefcake arms crossed. Morgan non-verbally meeting the insane fury of the King. Flip stares forward at little, miniature wooden pieces displayed across his desk. He picks up a cowboy hat, a tent-poled flag, and to number ones.
"JoJo Rush. Jack Severn. Next Level, twice."
The roof of The Mad King's mouth clicks a few times as he replaces the pieces upon the battle mat. Off camera, splaying herself across an equally off-camera black leather couch like a small child, her head in the lap of a very-not-amused Chanel who is sitting upright on the couch, is the Clownussy Queen herself. Poshmint, Precisely!
"What are you talking about, you silly Flip? Goofy confusing Flip."
"Is this really what -- you know what, bro. I have an appointment."
Trying her best to cordially sit next to clown girl is Chanel. No mas! She walks in stage right for the camera and without a second look exits stage left. She stops to slide a finger down Morgan Darkwater's chest with a tap at the end. Darkwater's eyes get... ANGRILY LARGE. Chanel exits the room, closing the door behind her. Flip has his eyes on a small wooden bird in his hand.
"Autumn Raven? Eh. No. Winterborn's frustrations are not my own there. Hm."
No. Now, a pill gets the same inquisitive tone for a moment before being dismissed for one not dissimilar to a megaphone.
"Alexander Umbra? Mm. Cyrus. Hahaha. Cyrus."
He places the megaphone aside, just in front of the photograph of Michael Clarke Duncan in the Kingpin pinstripe suit. He was always quiet, too. Flip smiles for a second at the photograph. He exudes a light 'heh' as his eyes narrow at two other wooden miniatures. The star and the shield. He smiles as he fiddles with the in his palm, sitting back against his obnoxious vintage throne.
"Narumi AND Samantha Hamilton as a package deal which is very... exciting for me. But if you'll pardon my French, ladies and gentlemen, I think it's high time I have something to say."
He places the star in front of the shield for the camera. He pushes the dozens of other wooden pieces aside to allow the star and shield to stand. Alone. He does pick up a little bandit man. He smiles as his waves it about in his hand, looking back to big bad Darkwater.
"Shout out to Mercenary. Holy shit, man, did you see that? Nevermind. Haha."
Darkwater menacingly... switches his dominant arm in his angry crossing of them. Flip chuckles as he places the little bandit man next to the megaphone. Then the little angry villager man catches his eye. Like a kid in a candy store King Flip giggles to himself as he places the little mad miniature next to the megaphone and the bandit man. All towered over by The Kingpin. Flip tippy taps his fingers as his eyes dart back to the star and the shild. His smile fades.
"Moxie. Oh! I should say hello to Tanja again at some point and do more than vignette on those jabroni orange branders. That's the message there, right? Not that I atoned for my sins -- quite literally with God and David Miller as our witness -- at UpRising and yet cocksuckers like half-title Vin wanna run their fucking mouth about a loss streak. Like my career has literally EVER GIVEN A SINGLE FUCK. ABOUT A LOSS STREAK. I GOT YOUR SORRY ASS BACKSTORY WRONG ON PURPOSE OLD MAN. GO SCREAM AT CLOUDS ABOUT IT FOR ALL I EVER GIVE A FUCK, JUNIOR. FUCKIN BABY BACK BITCH."
Wow. This outburst out of nowhere doesn't even get its own miniature. Even Darkwater looks impressed. Flip lifts the star from the desk.
"Imagery has always been important to me, too, Miss Undisputed. It's why I gimmick the gimmick on Fighter Talk; however, if you pay close enough attention, Darling, you'll notice that you've fallen for my trap card. Don't feel too embarrassed about it though. Aiya, Hamilton, there's a list on FT. You like bringing it up so I know you've seen it. Darling. But yeah, you, me, trap card: I like to say things wrong on purpose so I can see how... upset you get about it."
The world's littlest star clatters back to the desk with a toss. Flip picks up a cat miniature and chucks it into the little metal trash can.
"Aiya got particularly upset about Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. Listen. That's a great fucking movie. Okay? Cinema legend. It was a compliment. A REALLY REALLY WEIRD COMPLIMENT. The Mad King and normalcy don't exactly juxtapose well, you see, so -- and especially with women, because I'm a pretty awkward dude outside of the circle squares. So like -- to have to get paid to yell at women, to me, is equally as strange as the outlandish shit I say to them. But anyway. Trap card."
He rises from his desk and walks slowly around it, eyes never leaving the world's littlest star.
"And you used imagery. Look at you. Standing proud in your words on Aiya -- beat that bitch twice -- Battleship broad -- did her better on the one-day tournament; you ever heard of it? Oh, it's not pond related -- anyway -- Cloud -- now, while she excites me, Miss Undisputed."
On his walk he drops a little ship in the trash can. He stops at a small ooze miniature. More sloppy square than anything else, really, the little piece of wood. Flip leans over the desk to pick up the star before he turns to the camera and his joy is completely gone. He points directly and sternly at Stephanie Matsuda through the viewfinder.
"While Autumn Raven will not hold my disdain. Stephanie fucking Matsuda. Tsutsumi... for someone who chastises me about hurting people on purpose out of one side of your fucking mouth; The Mad King cannot help but fucking note what THAT Cloud-unt minus the 'oud' did to... Phoenix Winterborn. Now... knowing that, as you were so gracious to confirm, you stand by your girl power bullshit. But I can't help but notice how convenient it is that you're magically cool with an incident that involved Winterborn, Matsuda, and if I'm not mistaken, Miss Undisputed... a sledgehammer if my notes are correct? Now, hey, I know. Big Dick King Flip move to talk about violent acts but if you're really paying attention, Tsut, you'll understand that's not what this is about. I hurt Marcus by accident. Marcus accepted that. Our dance at Strangle will be something we will have both worked toward. And that's just fucking first of all. Secondly, Matsuda went out of her way and victimized Phoenix Winterborn, for her own personal gain, on the route to Ace fucking Kings Undisputed, ON. PURPOSE. What's the matter? Is Winterborn's name not high enough on the card for you to give a shit about? Give me a fucking break, ladies. Stop embarrassing your-fucking-selves. All I'm doing is pointing it out to you."
Without looking King Flip backward shoots the wooden square into the trash can. Twice now Darkwater tries to hide looking like he didn't see that coming. Flip fiddles with the star in his hand as Poshmint saunters into view. She isn't wearing pants, the loon. Flip continues glaring at the camera, his rage still unable to peel him away as the pink-haired clown girl hangs on his arm and word.
"Shout out to Brian Spade walking you into questions nobody should actually give a shit about the answer for. King Flip group? Bitch," King Flip and Poshmint both fake burst into laughter. Darkwater looks worried. "Pay attention. Please understand. King Flip has to have watched Prime if he has been on the show. Several times now. Not an impressive amount of times, but an impressive amount of PPV appearances and mentions for so little a footprint. King Flip wouldn't know what Jack Severn said if he hadn't watched last year's World Wide. That promo against him wouldn't have been as passionate. At this point, it's obvious I try to catch at least the parts I find important. Like any other indy wrestling. Hahaha. Imagery. What a 'granite-heavy balls' move on you. And Ham Sammy? Ohhhh..."
Poshmint happily procures the shield miniature. At least she's following along, knee-length rainbow socks or no.
"I fought three Kobolds in a trenchcoat because of you. I'd ask how your pregnancy went but, and this is the damndest thing, I stumbled upon a strip club advertisement and would you believe who's name was on it? Would you BELIEVE I got a ticket for the next show? Would you believe me, Samantha fucking Hamilton, if I told you my... receipt for you is long? Untouchable is a good word for it, too, so as to not insinuate the wrong thing here. I'm going for stalker vibes sure but like, friendly at a distance stalker vibes. You don't need to bar your windows. That'd just make it harder to... watch."
Poshmint and Morgan look at each other. Darkwater opts to go back to looking mad as fuck as Flip chuckles, turning around to walk back to his seat alone.
"Gimmick the gimmick. But anyway. Tsut Tsut. As you know I'll be busy with Moxie at Parabellum. So, of course you open with grandstanding about revenues in the literally inevitable match that you and I will share together. Pitter patter, bitch. Submission Match to open the Belly. You love to see it. This is of course a small shout to the future of Crimson Masquerade. Big fans of submission is that tag team. Y'see, I want you to watch what great tag team wrestling actually is. Not that Bloody Sure-They-Do nonsense. CRIMSON. MASQUERADE. Like King Dong before it this tag team will work thunderously hard for that World's Tag Team titles shot. Number five would be... a very important addition to my overall statistical spread. So, however, is number seven. Narumi Tsutsumi... do you realize what you have done? Ran your mouth about me on the green brand Pay Per View with a little fucking popsicle stand behind you -- PAHAHAHAAAAAAAA BITCH I DON'T CARE. You're such a joke. I don't actually give a fuck about The House. Are you kidding? Not in 'break them apart, end them, et cetera ad nauseam' ways. No. Incorrect. I owe each of them losses be they in Singles or tag form. They'll come. But that's entirely different. And like... that stable talk?"
King Flip works on taking championship after championship down from their places on the walls. Ruthless Aggression Wrestling World's Tag Team championship with Georgia James. Wildside Championship Wrestling Randem Tandem Tag Team championship with Georgia James. Paradise Wrestling Tag Team championship with Juncko. Bloodstone Wrestling (Federation) World's Tag Team championship with Blue! Hero! Flip shrugs at Darkwater who nods, title after title. Darkwater doesn't shrug back, he just looks the camera and shakes his head when Flip moves on to the more king of the mountain title belts. Pure Sadistic Wrestling Undisputed championship. Wild World of Wrestling World Heavyweight championship. Bloodstone Wrestling World Heavyweight championship. Eastern Championship Wrestling World Heavyweight championship. Serial Killer Championship Wrestling World Heavyweight championship. Animosity Wrestling World Heavyweight championship. And the wall still holds over two dozen more; however, perfectly displayed across the large oak desk are the four tag glories topped with the six 'face of the company' titles above them.
"How many times do I have to repeat myself? Ace King not only does not like me but Ace King found himself at the right place at the right time. Reid's involvement was his own. Aeon Khronos, Dio, Stitches. Same, same, same. Stable? I don't need camaraderie to take your Undisputed championship off your shoulder, bitch. I didn't need it for any title that has ever held my nameplate. Even those two even sillier little notes near the bottom of my Extreme Wrestling accolades. The lightweight belt? The 24/7 ones too. Those have to do with Shadow Man and his precious fucking Hardcore championship. Brass giving me the number fucking two International title opportunity instead and you ponder to yourselves so emphatically why a twenty year veteran is so fucking mad all the time. Are you kidding me? Xplode -- the light-heavyweight title belt -- that ones a jab at him because -- unlike, how long did it take you to double champion here? Because, defunct or not, it didn't take me long at all when I back-to-backed two very important Pay Per Views. And despite backstage dick-jerking puppetry King Flip became the biggest fucking face this company had ever fucking seen. Mark Storm WHO, BITCH!? Overnight. And the Kliq? Oh you know the hometown good ol' boys shit their fucking pants. Just like you did, Narumi Tsutsumi, but you're not as scummy as all that. I know. The only reason any of that is being said is because, on Fighter Talk, for a second you tried to defend all that. So, here, for just a second, I'm only giving you more reason not to. You earned everything you have and I would NEVER try to take a single well-earned victory away from you, because none of that shit is in me either, girlfriend; HOWEVER FUCKING COMMA... what's the quote about 'I was there when it was written'? Hall of Fame this dick, you fucking marks."
With star in hand, Flip juggles his own balls in his hand for a moment. It's like doing the jerk-off hand motion but even more disrespectful. King Flip is a rude dude and in this moment directs it in a very childish way at the Hall of Fame. Probably because that asshole Dominic Sanders never sent the obligatory fruit basket. But anyway. The fact that the miniature symbolizing Extreme Wrestling's Miss Undisputed in his hand is only because he was too lazy to switch hands. Rude dude King Flip.
"Oh. I'm sorry. Did I break your concentration? That looks familiar too, Darling, but I'm going to stop talking about the past before someone comes around and slaps me on the wrist about it. Bad Mad King. No gimmick the gimmick on literally the lowest fucking denominators, no. Too easy. Right, Narumi? Too easy just like your sorry ass imagery. Kendrick mentioned child's play too, which is how all that came across to me, your vignette, in case you needed another example of how blandly fucking unoriginal you all are. I don't care. Cry about it."
He tosses the shield onto the desk.
"Y’know, all the angry words on Fighter Talk from me to you. What INSPIRED that smut vignette -- that fucking Sports Entertainment -- mentioned Night of Champions. But I think you must wait longer, unfortunately, if fortunes are to be truly foretold in earnest. Let us test instead your Melody Malone beating genes, hm? You love to sit on that one and, hey, I'd love to be able to get rid of my Melody Malones Losers Club shirt myself. It's win-fucking-win! Since you're looking to me to make the challenge, young grasshopper, I'll bite. Let this be a... a ROYAL declaration! Yes. Of course. King Flip will be entering The Rumble in the year of our Lords, 2023. I think I'm still spritely enough for one of those, hey? And it'll be in an environment where I can correct you -- and Extreme Wrestling -- about The Great Game. Though it may yet provide what Shinijoshi needs, or what The House truly desires, it is not a fucking stable. HAHAHAHAHAHA. Imagine getting The House to do your dirty laundry on Larry Zbysko's illegitimate nephew on one Prime -- that jovially you still said you didnt watch, cmon now -- and then wanting to break them up only six months later? Five? See, Tsutsumi, I don't even fucking care enough to count the days. Who am I, Candy? No way. Shut up and cry about it. You did have one good question, Tsutsumi, and both the nod and acknowledgement come together from me with coming to that conclusion all by your fucking self. Look at you. Brian Spade got you off on the wrong tangent -- and I'm The Mad King. Imagine. -- but you got there. You asked if The Mad King, by himself, is better than The House."
Poshmint leans over the desk on the throne side. Darkwater gets red in the face and looks away, using his big meaty left to give Precisely some well needed modesty. King Flip is too busy angrily storming in front of the desk again to give a shit.
"Spoiler alert: Jack Severn thinking he could use The Mad King's name and fame to promote Eddie Snooze-your-ears means the answer to that Goddamn question is a warm and emphatic yes. But just like the message that The Mad King creates LEGENDS? Well. We knew you wouldn't get it. And that's fine. If you can't keep up with the fact that I was simply stating that, of the two of us, The Mad King is the face of this company congratulating our brothers and sisters on their accomplishments. Not just my fucking friends, not fucking face of the company, Miss Undisputed. DO YOU GET IT YET OR DO I NEED TO BREAK IT DOWN BARNEY STYLE LIKE I JUST DID ON KENDRICK KROSS!?"
Bellows at the camera. Fury. You fucked up. He mockingly poses with the world's littlest star on grand display. Poshmint chimes in from behind.
"Narumi Tsutsumi. Holder of the coveted Prime Minister tiara -- R.I.P. Scorpion's career. HONK! HONKHONK!!"
She shakes her ass the whole time. Darkwater has to take a page from Chanel, opening the office door and walking out. The door automatically closes slowly behind him.
"Extreme Wrestling. Just the same as the day I seriously signed a dotted line the first time. As real to me, damn it, as everything from Brett Black to Metal Black, Xavier Reid, all the failed ideas -- fuck Shelley Silvers cockholster forever in the most 'fuck that bitch, this is Russia' way possible -- from THE SHAWN CAGE INCIDENT. TO EVERY. PAY. PER. VIEW. THIS. YEAR."
He furiously points to the ground with the world's littlest star with every aggressively accentuated word.
"To this day, Miss Undisputed Darling. You ran your mouth on a Rampage Pay Per View, you fucking marks, that's shit you keep to the weeklies. And ya ran it pretty hard about little old no-title me? You, you wondered what I might do? I DID WORK, SON. HOW YOU LIVIN'? You absolute clown shoes head ass, running your mouth out of both sides of your fucking face head ass. You had to talk shit on PPV. You wanted me to blow up on Fighter Talk. You wanted to... antagonize The Mad King? I won't gimmick the gimmick for you anymore, sweet thing. You didn't get it. So, I'll repeat so you get the message: You ran your mouth on Pay Per View. Poorly. I'm running my mouth on a Saturday afternoon. Waxing poetic on your sorry ass. Sometimes, as a man, you put on stretchy pants. It is for fuuuuun."
He get a little off message with the Nacho Libre reference. He does a little Shawn Michaels pose as well, stretching out 'fun' for a second. He fiddles with the star as he marches back behind the desk. Poshmint makes herself scarce, dancing off camera to a whomp on the leather couch. Flip mumbles as he places the star near the photograph, picks Mike up, and places Kingpin gently into the desk drawer with the rest of the family. He pulls from the drawer a certain photograph. He smiles at Griffin Hawkins dumped out in the background. He places that photograph back in the drawer on top, a small bead of emotion grimacing his face. His eyes go back to the piles of pieces. He mumbles.
"Narumi Tsutsumi. Jack Severn. Tanja Devereaux. Mercenary. Moxie. Cyrus. Darius?"
Poshmint chimes in with emphasis.
"Spoilers."
Flip dismisses her with a wave of the hand, sitting back in his throne. He clears his throat, smacks the white palm across his face, and rises for the camera again. His malicious animosity dripping through the way he glares through his eyebrows.
"Narumi. I don't need to call myself anything. Oni... that's, I dunno, I haven't looked it up yet. Because even though big bad WhoBlewMe is Undisputed champion? Look at you. Fighting your friend at your Invasion show. You don't respect Callie Clark? That's fine. But at least understand why a television champion is higher than you on the card. Understand why the Insanity Cage Invitational with Callie and Cyrus is more important than your defense against Lavender. As you'd have people believe, Undi Darling, you're only as good as the last time you wrestled. Eleven, right? I'm at nine now, bitch, what have you done for Extreme Wrestling lately?"
The King's eyes roll hard.
"I don't call myself anything. Untouchable? Thanks I-draw-ki Ito. The guy main eventing your Invasion, whos fighting another girl I've defended against in Visconty. You know, your main event, but anyway. Benchmark of Brawl? The real BOB? Thanks, X-Division champion, Xavier Reid. One of the only men in this business left standing the test of time who knows EXACTLY WHO THE FUCK I AM. HE KNOWS THE GREAT GAME."
Viciously gripped scarred meat hooks slam against the desk. He raises and wags his right pointer.
"We aren't the same."
Flip thumbs behind him not realizing Darkwater isn't standing to his off right anymore. He's too... focused?
"He's not meant to intimidate you, Tsut, so don't go with that angle. Save yourself some time, at least, and for the LOVE. OF. CHRIST. Little fucking girl. If you try some Aiya shit. IF YOU RUN. YOUR FUCKING MOUTH. Go mentioning names in ways disrespectful for the fucking angle. Defend your friends all you want, Naruru Boobooknees, but that promo from Aiya was HORSE SHIT if I ever saw it."
He spits into the metal trash can as he makes his way around the desk again. Is this guy standing? Is he sitting down? Who cares. He's poking himself in the chest now.
"You see, at my Invasion show... where you're looking at one quarter of the better main event. Match 8, whatever. Still better than sorry ass Match 4 Tsutsumi and I'm not sorry about it. Cyrus? Mercenary? Moxie!? On the cusp of Parabellum, Moxie. Right after revealing to the world The Mad King played dress up once again in his career as Cassius H. And will again next BORT because believe it or not, out of the two of us, you and I, Tsutsumi? I am definitely the superhero."
Flip mockingly shoots his right pointer in the air with a big fake smile.
"I've bumped heads with General Managers while week after week I have to watch you beat Delilah fucking Ashe. We're not the same. This ain't the same sport. It ain't even the same fuckin' ballpark. This is embarrassing. You better hope you drop that belt to Lavender, Narumi. You run a big game in a FUCKING. VIGNETTE. But I haven't seen you in a serious capacity on the red brand since I congratulated you for crawling out of that fucking pond the first time you'd actually done it. Do you remember that far back? Pepperidge Farm, Poshmint Precisely, and oh yeah THE MAD KING. FUCKING. REMEMBERS."
He picks the shield up off the desk, tossing the star aside. He hops into a sit on the desk. Obnoxious.
"Welcome back, Titaness. No more games. No more creepy. Honestly, it grosses me out too at this point, but you know me. I had to open like that one time for the one time. Now, I don't give a shit who you fight next to. I don't give a shit who Stephanie Matsuda, or Narumi Tsutsumi, or Headcuntress Aiya, or any of you fight next to. Because the end remains the same between you and me, Misses Hamilton, no matter what circus you bang your symbols for you fucking monkey. You said you wanted to focus on your singles career? Well, congratulations. Bring Zeus' Wrath. The Mad King is familiar with his folklore at least. More of a... Havamal man myself if we're being candid. We can be candid at this point. Yes? Friend of Shinijoshi, yes, one time I was rude and put my butt cheeks on your face, yes, but like... I was drinking ringside back then, too. It was a dark dream of a return my sister! In the year of 2023, by Odin's eye, please. Let you and I move forward in a cordial manner. King Flip beat Samantha Hamilton early on. You want that sweet release so bad, but. Cordial. Please. Let the two of us be... cordial."
He's starting to break in breath. His fingers jitter as he places the shield down. He pops the megaphone, the angry man, and the bandit man into his left hand. He mutters to himself again.
"Mercenary. Moxie. Cyrus."
Poshmint follows him out of the room. The scene fades.
"When people get too chummy with me,
I like to call them by the wrong name
to let them know I don't really care about them."
Ron Sawnson
I like to call them by the wrong name
to let them know I don't really care about them."
Ron Sawnson
Scene; Sports Entertainment, Part I.
When last we left our heroes: Scars and Stripes saw King Flip reinstated in the loving green arms of one bearded fuck. King Flip and Chanel made their mark against Kendrick Kross. This time watching only from backstage for the rest of the evening. On the red eye home... Chanel continued to worry, ultimately succumbing to sleep as King Flip watched. And watched. Hed only catch a few hours before landing back in Sacramento. Chanel could barely stay awake for the Uber and The Mad King was watching the Pay Per View again. We approach King's personal home about mod-afternoon; a small snafu at Sac International of all places. Because irony. The two of them all in all, however, meet two more as they settle back in.
We open with King Flip in his Brawl-red dress attire. A nice, if not obnoxiously large, white bowtie with a blood splash motif. He sits sternly upon a vintage wooden throne. Upon it carved the faces of women, little babies, and two mighty eagles wearing crowns upon the top two corners of the chair. Sitting upon King Asshole's ridiculous desk is but one lone photograph today. The Kingpin. This juxtaposes with one towering terror behind The Mad King. On this lovely Saturday afternoon it isn't just the near-covered-with-title-belts wall, nay; standing tall and impressive to King's right is the good Lord Captain Morgan Darkwater. The same man Mad King has played the dungeons and the dragons with. The same man King loaned literally a ship cannon from. Big Morgan. He stares menacingly with his big beefcake arms crossed. Morgan non-verbally meeting the insane fury of the King. Flip stares forward at little, miniature wooden pieces displayed across his desk. He picks up a cowboy hat, a tent-poled flag, and to number ones.
"JoJo Rush. Jack Severn. Next Level, twice."
The roof of The Mad King's mouth clicks a few times as he replaces the pieces upon the battle mat. Off camera, splaying herself across an equally off-camera black leather couch like a small child, her head in the lap of a very-not-amused Chanel who is sitting upright on the couch, is the Clownussy Queen herself. Poshmint, Precisely!
"What are you talking about, you silly Flip? Goofy confusing Flip."
"Is this really what -- you know what, bro. I have an appointment."
Trying her best to cordially sit next to clown girl is Chanel. No mas! She walks in stage right for the camera and without a second look exits stage left. She stops to slide a finger down Morgan Darkwater's chest with a tap at the end. Darkwater's eyes get... ANGRILY LARGE. Chanel exits the room, closing the door behind her. Flip has his eyes on a small wooden bird in his hand.
"Autumn Raven? Eh. No. Winterborn's frustrations are not my own there. Hm."
No. Now, a pill gets the same inquisitive tone for a moment before being dismissed for one not dissimilar to a megaphone.
"Alexander Umbra? Mm. Cyrus. Hahaha. Cyrus."
He places the megaphone aside, just in front of the photograph of Michael Clarke Duncan in the Kingpin pinstripe suit. He was always quiet, too. Flip smiles for a second at the photograph. He exudes a light 'heh' as his eyes narrow at two other wooden miniatures. The star and the shield. He smiles as he fiddles with the in his palm, sitting back against his obnoxious vintage throne.
"Narumi AND Samantha Hamilton as a package deal which is very... exciting for me. But if you'll pardon my French, ladies and gentlemen, I think it's high time I have something to say."
He places the star in front of the shield for the camera. He pushes the dozens of other wooden pieces aside to allow the star and shield to stand. Alone. He does pick up a little bandit man. He smiles as his waves it about in his hand, looking back to big bad Darkwater.
"Shout out to Mercenary. Holy shit, man, did you see that? Nevermind. Haha."
Darkwater menacingly... switches his dominant arm in his angry crossing of them. Flip chuckles as he places the little bandit man next to the megaphone. Then the little angry villager man catches his eye. Like a kid in a candy store King Flip giggles to himself as he places the little mad miniature next to the megaphone and the bandit man. All towered over by The Kingpin. Flip tippy taps his fingers as his eyes dart back to the star and the shild. His smile fades.
"Moxie. Oh! I should say hello to Tanja again at some point and do more than vignette on those jabroni orange branders. That's the message there, right? Not that I atoned for my sins -- quite literally with God and David Miller as our witness -- at UpRising and yet cocksuckers like half-title Vin wanna run their fucking mouth about a loss streak. Like my career has literally EVER GIVEN A SINGLE FUCK. ABOUT A LOSS STREAK. I GOT YOUR SORRY ASS BACKSTORY WRONG ON PURPOSE OLD MAN. GO SCREAM AT CLOUDS ABOUT IT FOR ALL I EVER GIVE A FUCK, JUNIOR. FUCKIN BABY BACK BITCH."
Wow. This outburst out of nowhere doesn't even get its own miniature. Even Darkwater looks impressed. Flip lifts the star from the desk.
"Imagery has always been important to me, too, Miss Undisputed. It's why I gimmick the gimmick on Fighter Talk; however, if you pay close enough attention, Darling, you'll notice that you've fallen for my trap card. Don't feel too embarrassed about it though. Aiya, Hamilton, there's a list on FT. You like bringing it up so I know you've seen it. Darling. But yeah, you, me, trap card: I like to say things wrong on purpose so I can see how... upset you get about it."
The world's littlest star clatters back to the desk with a toss. Flip picks up a cat miniature and chucks it into the little metal trash can.
"Aiya got particularly upset about Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. Listen. That's a great fucking movie. Okay? Cinema legend. It was a compliment. A REALLY REALLY WEIRD COMPLIMENT. The Mad King and normalcy don't exactly juxtapose well, you see, so -- and especially with women, because I'm a pretty awkward dude outside of the circle squares. So like -- to have to get paid to yell at women, to me, is equally as strange as the outlandish shit I say to them. But anyway. Trap card."
He rises from his desk and walks slowly around it, eyes never leaving the world's littlest star.
"And you used imagery. Look at you. Standing proud in your words on Aiya -- beat that bitch twice -- Battleship broad -- did her better on the one-day tournament; you ever heard of it? Oh, it's not pond related -- anyway -- Cloud -- now, while she excites me, Miss Undisputed."
On his walk he drops a little ship in the trash can. He stops at a small ooze miniature. More sloppy square than anything else, really, the little piece of wood. Flip leans over the desk to pick up the star before he turns to the camera and his joy is completely gone. He points directly and sternly at Stephanie Matsuda through the viewfinder.
"While Autumn Raven will not hold my disdain. Stephanie fucking Matsuda. Tsutsumi... for someone who chastises me about hurting people on purpose out of one side of your fucking mouth; The Mad King cannot help but fucking note what THAT Cloud-unt minus the 'oud' did to... Phoenix Winterborn. Now... knowing that, as you were so gracious to confirm, you stand by your girl power bullshit. But I can't help but notice how convenient it is that you're magically cool with an incident that involved Winterborn, Matsuda, and if I'm not mistaken, Miss Undisputed... a sledgehammer if my notes are correct? Now, hey, I know. Big Dick King Flip move to talk about violent acts but if you're really paying attention, Tsut, you'll understand that's not what this is about. I hurt Marcus by accident. Marcus accepted that. Our dance at Strangle will be something we will have both worked toward. And that's just fucking first of all. Secondly, Matsuda went out of her way and victimized Phoenix Winterborn, for her own personal gain, on the route to Ace fucking Kings Undisputed, ON. PURPOSE. What's the matter? Is Winterborn's name not high enough on the card for you to give a shit about? Give me a fucking break, ladies. Stop embarrassing your-fucking-selves. All I'm doing is pointing it out to you."
Without looking King Flip backward shoots the wooden square into the trash can. Twice now Darkwater tries to hide looking like he didn't see that coming. Flip fiddles with the star in his hand as Poshmint saunters into view. She isn't wearing pants, the loon. Flip continues glaring at the camera, his rage still unable to peel him away as the pink-haired clown girl hangs on his arm and word.
"Shout out to Brian Spade walking you into questions nobody should actually give a shit about the answer for. King Flip group? Bitch," King Flip and Poshmint both fake burst into laughter. Darkwater looks worried. "Pay attention. Please understand. King Flip has to have watched Prime if he has been on the show. Several times now. Not an impressive amount of times, but an impressive amount of PPV appearances and mentions for so little a footprint. King Flip wouldn't know what Jack Severn said if he hadn't watched last year's World Wide. That promo against him wouldn't have been as passionate. At this point, it's obvious I try to catch at least the parts I find important. Like any other indy wrestling. Hahaha. Imagery. What a 'granite-heavy balls' move on you. And Ham Sammy? Ohhhh..."
Poshmint happily procures the shield miniature. At least she's following along, knee-length rainbow socks or no.
"I fought three Kobolds in a trenchcoat because of you. I'd ask how your pregnancy went but, and this is the damndest thing, I stumbled upon a strip club advertisement and would you believe who's name was on it? Would you BELIEVE I got a ticket for the next show? Would you believe me, Samantha fucking Hamilton, if I told you my... receipt for you is long? Untouchable is a good word for it, too, so as to not insinuate the wrong thing here. I'm going for stalker vibes sure but like, friendly at a distance stalker vibes. You don't need to bar your windows. That'd just make it harder to... watch."
Poshmint and Morgan look at each other. Darkwater opts to go back to looking mad as fuck as Flip chuckles, turning around to walk back to his seat alone.
"Gimmick the gimmick. But anyway. Tsut Tsut. As you know I'll be busy with Moxie at Parabellum. So, of course you open with grandstanding about revenues in the literally inevitable match that you and I will share together. Pitter patter, bitch. Submission Match to open the Belly. You love to see it. This is of course a small shout to the future of Crimson Masquerade. Big fans of submission is that tag team. Y'see, I want you to watch what great tag team wrestling actually is. Not that Bloody Sure-They-Do nonsense. CRIMSON. MASQUERADE. Like King Dong before it this tag team will work thunderously hard for that World's Tag Team titles shot. Number five would be... a very important addition to my overall statistical spread. So, however, is number seven. Narumi Tsutsumi... do you realize what you have done? Ran your mouth about me on the green brand Pay Per View with a little fucking popsicle stand behind you -- PAHAHAHAAAAAAAA BITCH I DON'T CARE. You're such a joke. I don't actually give a fuck about The House. Are you kidding? Not in 'break them apart, end them, et cetera ad nauseam' ways. No. Incorrect. I owe each of them losses be they in Singles or tag form. They'll come. But that's entirely different. And like... that stable talk?"
King Flip works on taking championship after championship down from their places on the walls. Ruthless Aggression Wrestling World's Tag Team championship with Georgia James. Wildside Championship Wrestling Randem Tandem Tag Team championship with Georgia James. Paradise Wrestling Tag Team championship with Juncko. Bloodstone Wrestling (Federation) World's Tag Team championship with Blue! Hero! Flip shrugs at Darkwater who nods, title after title. Darkwater doesn't shrug back, he just looks the camera and shakes his head when Flip moves on to the more king of the mountain title belts. Pure Sadistic Wrestling Undisputed championship. Wild World of Wrestling World Heavyweight championship. Bloodstone Wrestling World Heavyweight championship. Eastern Championship Wrestling World Heavyweight championship. Serial Killer Championship Wrestling World Heavyweight championship. Animosity Wrestling World Heavyweight championship. And the wall still holds over two dozen more; however, perfectly displayed across the large oak desk are the four tag glories topped with the six 'face of the company' titles above them.
"How many times do I have to repeat myself? Ace King not only does not like me but Ace King found himself at the right place at the right time. Reid's involvement was his own. Aeon Khronos, Dio, Stitches. Same, same, same. Stable? I don't need camaraderie to take your Undisputed championship off your shoulder, bitch. I didn't need it for any title that has ever held my nameplate. Even those two even sillier little notes near the bottom of my Extreme Wrestling accolades. The lightweight belt? The 24/7 ones too. Those have to do with Shadow Man and his precious fucking Hardcore championship. Brass giving me the number fucking two International title opportunity instead and you ponder to yourselves so emphatically why a twenty year veteran is so fucking mad all the time. Are you kidding me? Xplode -- the light-heavyweight title belt -- that ones a jab at him because -- unlike, how long did it take you to double champion here? Because, defunct or not, it didn't take me long at all when I back-to-backed two very important Pay Per Views. And despite backstage dick-jerking puppetry King Flip became the biggest fucking face this company had ever fucking seen. Mark Storm WHO, BITCH!? Overnight. And the Kliq? Oh you know the hometown good ol' boys shit their fucking pants. Just like you did, Narumi Tsutsumi, but you're not as scummy as all that. I know. The only reason any of that is being said is because, on Fighter Talk, for a second you tried to defend all that. So, here, for just a second, I'm only giving you more reason not to. You earned everything you have and I would NEVER try to take a single well-earned victory away from you, because none of that shit is in me either, girlfriend; HOWEVER FUCKING COMMA... what's the quote about 'I was there when it was written'? Hall of Fame this dick, you fucking marks."
With star in hand, Flip juggles his own balls in his hand for a moment. It's like doing the jerk-off hand motion but even more disrespectful. King Flip is a rude dude and in this moment directs it in a very childish way at the Hall of Fame. Probably because that asshole Dominic Sanders never sent the obligatory fruit basket. But anyway. The fact that the miniature symbolizing Extreme Wrestling's Miss Undisputed in his hand is only because he was too lazy to switch hands. Rude dude King Flip.
"Oh. I'm sorry. Did I break your concentration? That looks familiar too, Darling, but I'm going to stop talking about the past before someone comes around and slaps me on the wrist about it. Bad Mad King. No gimmick the gimmick on literally the lowest fucking denominators, no. Too easy. Right, Narumi? Too easy just like your sorry ass imagery. Kendrick mentioned child's play too, which is how all that came across to me, your vignette, in case you needed another example of how blandly fucking unoriginal you all are. I don't care. Cry about it."
He tosses the shield onto the desk.
"Y’know, all the angry words on Fighter Talk from me to you. What INSPIRED that smut vignette -- that fucking Sports Entertainment -- mentioned Night of Champions. But I think you must wait longer, unfortunately, if fortunes are to be truly foretold in earnest. Let us test instead your Melody Malone beating genes, hm? You love to sit on that one and, hey, I'd love to be able to get rid of my Melody Malones Losers Club shirt myself. It's win-fucking-win! Since you're looking to me to make the challenge, young grasshopper, I'll bite. Let this be a... a ROYAL declaration! Yes. Of course. King Flip will be entering The Rumble in the year of our Lords, 2023. I think I'm still spritely enough for one of those, hey? And it'll be in an environment where I can correct you -- and Extreme Wrestling -- about The Great Game. Though it may yet provide what Shinijoshi needs, or what The House truly desires, it is not a fucking stable. HAHAHAHAHAHA. Imagine getting The House to do your dirty laundry on Larry Zbysko's illegitimate nephew on one Prime -- that jovially you still said you didnt watch, cmon now -- and then wanting to break them up only six months later? Five? See, Tsutsumi, I don't even fucking care enough to count the days. Who am I, Candy? No way. Shut up and cry about it. You did have one good question, Tsutsumi, and both the nod and acknowledgement come together from me with coming to that conclusion all by your fucking self. Look at you. Brian Spade got you off on the wrong tangent -- and I'm The Mad King. Imagine. -- but you got there. You asked if The Mad King, by himself, is better than The House."
Poshmint leans over the desk on the throne side. Darkwater gets red in the face and looks away, using his big meaty left to give Precisely some well needed modesty. King Flip is too busy angrily storming in front of the desk again to give a shit.
"Spoiler alert: Jack Severn thinking he could use The Mad King's name and fame to promote Eddie Snooze-your-ears means the answer to that Goddamn question is a warm and emphatic yes. But just like the message that The Mad King creates LEGENDS? Well. We knew you wouldn't get it. And that's fine. If you can't keep up with the fact that I was simply stating that, of the two of us, The Mad King is the face of this company congratulating our brothers and sisters on their accomplishments. Not just my fucking friends, not fucking face of the company, Miss Undisputed. DO YOU GET IT YET OR DO I NEED TO BREAK IT DOWN BARNEY STYLE LIKE I JUST DID ON KENDRICK KROSS!?"
Bellows at the camera. Fury. You fucked up. He mockingly poses with the world's littlest star on grand display. Poshmint chimes in from behind.
"Narumi Tsutsumi. Holder of the coveted Prime Minister tiara -- R.I.P. Scorpion's career. HONK! HONKHONK!!"
She shakes her ass the whole time. Darkwater has to take a page from Chanel, opening the office door and walking out. The door automatically closes slowly behind him.
"Extreme Wrestling. Just the same as the day I seriously signed a dotted line the first time. As real to me, damn it, as everything from Brett Black to Metal Black, Xavier Reid, all the failed ideas -- fuck Shelley Silvers cockholster forever in the most 'fuck that bitch, this is Russia' way possible -- from THE SHAWN CAGE INCIDENT. TO EVERY. PAY. PER. VIEW. THIS. YEAR."
He furiously points to the ground with the world's littlest star with every aggressively accentuated word.
"To this day, Miss Undisputed Darling. You ran your mouth on a Rampage Pay Per View, you fucking marks, that's shit you keep to the weeklies. And ya ran it pretty hard about little old no-title me? You, you wondered what I might do? I DID WORK, SON. HOW YOU LIVIN'? You absolute clown shoes head ass, running your mouth out of both sides of your fucking face head ass. You had to talk shit on PPV. You wanted me to blow up on Fighter Talk. You wanted to... antagonize The Mad King? I won't gimmick the gimmick for you anymore, sweet thing. You didn't get it. So, I'll repeat so you get the message: You ran your mouth on Pay Per View. Poorly. I'm running my mouth on a Saturday afternoon. Waxing poetic on your sorry ass. Sometimes, as a man, you put on stretchy pants. It is for fuuuuun."
He get a little off message with the Nacho Libre reference. He does a little Shawn Michaels pose as well, stretching out 'fun' for a second. He fiddles with the star as he marches back behind the desk. Poshmint makes herself scarce, dancing off camera to a whomp on the leather couch. Flip mumbles as he places the star near the photograph, picks Mike up, and places Kingpin gently into the desk drawer with the rest of the family. He pulls from the drawer a certain photograph. He smiles at Griffin Hawkins dumped out in the background. He places that photograph back in the drawer on top, a small bead of emotion grimacing his face. His eyes go back to the piles of pieces. He mumbles.
"Narumi Tsutsumi. Jack Severn. Tanja Devereaux. Mercenary. Moxie. Cyrus. Darius?"
Poshmint chimes in with emphasis.
"Spoilers."
Flip dismisses her with a wave of the hand, sitting back in his throne. He clears his throat, smacks the white palm across his face, and rises for the camera again. His malicious animosity dripping through the way he glares through his eyebrows.
"Narumi. I don't need to call myself anything. Oni... that's, I dunno, I haven't looked it up yet. Because even though big bad WhoBlewMe is Undisputed champion? Look at you. Fighting your friend at your Invasion show. You don't respect Callie Clark? That's fine. But at least understand why a television champion is higher than you on the card. Understand why the Insanity Cage Invitational with Callie and Cyrus is more important than your defense against Lavender. As you'd have people believe, Undi Darling, you're only as good as the last time you wrestled. Eleven, right? I'm at nine now, bitch, what have you done for Extreme Wrestling lately?"
The King's eyes roll hard.
"I don't call myself anything. Untouchable? Thanks I-draw-ki Ito. The guy main eventing your Invasion, whos fighting another girl I've defended against in Visconty. You know, your main event, but anyway. Benchmark of Brawl? The real BOB? Thanks, X-Division champion, Xavier Reid. One of the only men in this business left standing the test of time who knows EXACTLY WHO THE FUCK I AM. HE KNOWS THE GREAT GAME."
Viciously gripped scarred meat hooks slam against the desk. He raises and wags his right pointer.
"We aren't the same."
Flip thumbs behind him not realizing Darkwater isn't standing to his off right anymore. He's too... focused?
"He's not meant to intimidate you, Tsut, so don't go with that angle. Save yourself some time, at least, and for the LOVE. OF. CHRIST. Little fucking girl. If you try some Aiya shit. IF YOU RUN. YOUR FUCKING MOUTH. Go mentioning names in ways disrespectful for the fucking angle. Defend your friends all you want, Naruru Boobooknees, but that promo from Aiya was HORSE SHIT if I ever saw it."
He spits into the metal trash can as he makes his way around the desk again. Is this guy standing? Is he sitting down? Who cares. He's poking himself in the chest now.
"You see, at my Invasion show... where you're looking at one quarter of the better main event. Match 8, whatever. Still better than sorry ass Match 4 Tsutsumi and I'm not sorry about it. Cyrus? Mercenary? Moxie!? On the cusp of Parabellum, Moxie. Right after revealing to the world The Mad King played dress up once again in his career as Cassius H. And will again next BORT because believe it or not, out of the two of us, you and I, Tsutsumi? I am definitely the superhero."
Flip mockingly shoots his right pointer in the air with a big fake smile.
"I've bumped heads with General Managers while week after week I have to watch you beat Delilah fucking Ashe. We're not the same. This ain't the same sport. It ain't even the same fuckin' ballpark. This is embarrassing. You better hope you drop that belt to Lavender, Narumi. You run a big game in a FUCKING. VIGNETTE. But I haven't seen you in a serious capacity on the red brand since I congratulated you for crawling out of that fucking pond the first time you'd actually done it. Do you remember that far back? Pepperidge Farm, Poshmint Precisely, and oh yeah THE MAD KING. FUCKING. REMEMBERS."
He picks the shield up off the desk, tossing the star aside. He hops into a sit on the desk. Obnoxious.
"Welcome back, Titaness. No more games. No more creepy. Honestly, it grosses me out too at this point, but you know me. I had to open like that one time for the one time. Now, I don't give a shit who you fight next to. I don't give a shit who Stephanie Matsuda, or Narumi Tsutsumi, or Headcuntress Aiya, or any of you fight next to. Because the end remains the same between you and me, Misses Hamilton, no matter what circus you bang your symbols for you fucking monkey. You said you wanted to focus on your singles career? Well, congratulations. Bring Zeus' Wrath. The Mad King is familiar with his folklore at least. More of a... Havamal man myself if we're being candid. We can be candid at this point. Yes? Friend of Shinijoshi, yes, one time I was rude and put my butt cheeks on your face, yes, but like... I was drinking ringside back then, too. It was a dark dream of a return my sister! In the year of 2023, by Odin's eye, please. Let you and I move forward in a cordial manner. King Flip beat Samantha Hamilton early on. You want that sweet release so bad, but. Cordial. Please. Let the two of us be... cordial."
He's starting to break in breath. His fingers jitter as he places the shield down. He pops the megaphone, the angry man, and the bandit man into his left hand. He mutters to himself again.
"Mercenary. Moxie. Cyrus."
Poshmint follows him out of the room. The scene fades.
