One Last Stand: Total Mayhem - Mikey Stormrage vs. The Beard
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A creaky door swings open and sitting at a desk lit dimly by a lantern. Sitting at the desk is the handler of The Beard, Ezekiel Hewitt. Hewitt is seen paging through a book before looking up at his protégé, whose shadow lurks in the forefront.
The dictionary defines the word mayhem as actions that hurt people and destroys things; a scene or situation that involves a lot of violence.
Hewitt slams the book shut as dust particles float through the air as the fire from the lantern catches the reflection as it slowly drifts to the ground below.
In our world, mayhem is what stands in front of me right not. The Beard is mayhems precious child. No disrespect to the legends that built the mayhem division, but none of them possessed the power or drive that The Beard has pumping through his veins. He lives off the fire, he lives off the disaster, and he lives off the violence. The more that suffer, the happier he is.
Happiness is a nonexistent feeling that fuels everyday civilians to reach goals that are unachievable and incredibly farfetched. Mickey Stormrage once sought out for happiness and it crushed his life and ruined his hope for the future. Now he awaits for my destruction.
Beard is hidden as all that can be seen is an outline standing in front of Hewitt as he speaks his mind, in a slow and monotonous voice.
What Beard is trying to say is that even with the setback of not winning the tournament, he is still the most feared man in this company. No one wants to step foot in that ring and stand eye to eye with the beast.
They say the eye of the storm is the calmest part of the disaster that surrounds it. But when you look into these eyes all you see is darkness. Emptiness lies inside and as it approaches it is not the calmest part of the storm. It is dangerous. It is violent. It is mayhem.
Your future king is ready to take his throne. This man once stood atop the mountain and stalked his prey, waiting for the weak to make a mistake. Now he no longer waits. Patience is not a virtue. He comes to the prey and he shall feast. A feast fit for a king.
Kings are to be treated with respect, honor, dignity, and graciousness. However kings should be feared. The people need to know that their king is a powerful man, a man that shouldnt be contested. He is a man that they need to trust with their guidance, no matter where it takes them. Much like I did with Zeke. He has guided me to this land of opportunity and I will not fail again.
Mickey Stormrage it will be total mayhem as you follow the dark path that leads you to The Beard. This isnt the man that youve stepped into the ring with in the past. This man has evolved. He has gone from the butt of the joke, to the manliest man, to the most feared wrestler on the planet. And what an appropriate name that you do battle at.
Beards hand reaches across, cutting Hewitt off as he places his finger onto the lips of his handler signaling him to quiet down.
If you listen closely you can hear the screams. The screams of all my victims past and all my victims future. Do you hear it Zeke? Do you hear Mickey Stormrage crying in the distance, wishing his life wasnt in my hands? Calling out for help for anyone that can hear him, but no one dare step up to the plate in fear of being my next victim.
I hear it, do you hear it Mickey? Its probably best you do because it will be your last stand when Beard finishes you just like he did to Titus. There is no looking back Mickey, beware of the future and fear the beard.
Hewitt reaches for the lantern, but Beard grabs his hand ushering him back. Beard grabs the lantern and slowly carries it towards his face. A stern, emotionless look graces the face of Beard. The light flickers and bounces off the side of his face that Hewitt unleashed as the bristles from Beards whisker glisten in the light. Suddenly Beard blows out the lantern with a swift huff.
Fear me.
The dictionary defines the word mayhem as actions that hurt people and destroys things; a scene or situation that involves a lot of violence.
Hewitt slams the book shut as dust particles float through the air as the fire from the lantern catches the reflection as it slowly drifts to the ground below.
In our world, mayhem is what stands in front of me right not. The Beard is mayhems precious child. No disrespect to the legends that built the mayhem division, but none of them possessed the power or drive that The Beard has pumping through his veins. He lives off the fire, he lives off the disaster, and he lives off the violence. The more that suffer, the happier he is.
Happiness is a nonexistent feeling that fuels everyday civilians to reach goals that are unachievable and incredibly farfetched. Mickey Stormrage once sought out for happiness and it crushed his life and ruined his hope for the future. Now he awaits for my destruction.
Beard is hidden as all that can be seen is an outline standing in front of Hewitt as he speaks his mind, in a slow and monotonous voice.
What Beard is trying to say is that even with the setback of not winning the tournament, he is still the most feared man in this company. No one wants to step foot in that ring and stand eye to eye with the beast.
They say the eye of the storm is the calmest part of the disaster that surrounds it. But when you look into these eyes all you see is darkness. Emptiness lies inside and as it approaches it is not the calmest part of the storm. It is dangerous. It is violent. It is mayhem.
Your future king is ready to take his throne. This man once stood atop the mountain and stalked his prey, waiting for the weak to make a mistake. Now he no longer waits. Patience is not a virtue. He comes to the prey and he shall feast. A feast fit for a king.
Kings are to be treated with respect, honor, dignity, and graciousness. However kings should be feared. The people need to know that their king is a powerful man, a man that shouldnt be contested. He is a man that they need to trust with their guidance, no matter where it takes them. Much like I did with Zeke. He has guided me to this land of opportunity and I will not fail again.
Mickey Stormrage it will be total mayhem as you follow the dark path that leads you to The Beard. This isnt the man that youve stepped into the ring with in the past. This man has evolved. He has gone from the butt of the joke, to the manliest man, to the most feared wrestler on the planet. And what an appropriate name that you do battle at.
Beards hand reaches across, cutting Hewitt off as he places his finger onto the lips of his handler signaling him to quiet down.
If you listen closely you can hear the screams. The screams of all my victims past and all my victims future. Do you hear it Zeke? Do you hear Mickey Stormrage crying in the distance, wishing his life wasnt in my hands? Calling out for help for anyone that can hear him, but no one dare step up to the plate in fear of being my next victim.
I hear it, do you hear it Mickey? Its probably best you do because it will be your last stand when Beard finishes you just like he did to Titus. There is no looking back Mickey, beware of the future and fear the beard.
Hewitt reaches for the lantern, but Beard grabs his hand ushering him back. Beard grabs the lantern and slowly carries it towards his face. A stern, emotionless look graces the face of Beard. The light flickers and bounces off the side of his face that Hewitt unleashed as the bristles from Beards whisker glisten in the light. Suddenly Beard blows out the lantern with a swift huff.
Fear me.
Richard Blonoff
Make America Rassle Again
♪♪Human beings in a mob
Whats a mob to a king?
Whats a king to a god?
Whats a god to a non-believer?
Who dont believe in anything?
We make it out alive
All right, all right
No church in the wild♪♪
I pulled the zipper of my hoodie up higher, adjusted my headphones, and put my hood up as I walked out the door. Paris was foreign to me. Somehow it didn't feel as foreign as San Francisco, but that feeling would likely never go away. I found it funny in a way, as a young boy growing up in rural Indiana I dreamed of living in California. Where I was from, your dreams were often crushed. I never had it as bad as a kid from say Harlem or the South Side of Chicago, but unless your dreams included a factory or meth, you had few options. I was lucky in that regard, my dreams had come true. I packed up and moved to Cali, I had a great life. I was in the spotlight, I was liked, people knew who I was, for a time I could call myself champion.
♪♪I'm up in the woods, I'm down on my mind
I'm building a still to slow down the time
I'm up in the woods, I'm down on my mind
I'm building a still to slow down the time
I'm up in the woods, I'm down on my mind
I'm building a still to slow down the time♪♪
I reached into my pocket and hit the button to play the next song, all the while doing my best to keep my face hidden. This time last year I would have opened my arms to any fans that might have approached me. Its funny in a way how quickly things can change. In the span of the year I went from living with my best friend and being a tag team champion to living out of my car and being at odds with the man I used to call my brother. From shamelessly putting my face out as much as I could, to hiding my face everywhere I went.
I passed a street vendor and purchased a gryo and bottled water and continued my walk, my jacket zipped just low enough to allow myself to eat as I walked. After dripping some of the meat onto my chin, I decided to take a seat on a nearby bench to finish my meal. I looked around, hoping to catch a view of the Eiffel Tower. As I looked up a gust of wind caught my hood and blew it off. I dropped my gryo in an attempt to put it back on. I thought I was in the clear until a small kid, no more than eight or nine, walked up to me. He had an ice cream cone in his hand, some of it was smeared on his face. In a way he reminded me of a myself as a child.
"Hey, I know you."
The child looked at me, waiting for me to respond. I took my headphones from my ears.
"No you don't kid."
"Yes, I do. You're Mikey Stormrage. You used to be my favorite!"
I looked at the kid, almost choked up. For a moment I started to question the man I had become. I was a jealous, envious, spiteful man. I had turned on my best friend.
"Then you put on that mask and became a bad guy."
I wasn't the one who changed, it was James. He let ambition get the best of him. He turned on me. He was the one who planted me face first into the canvas. He pushed me to the side and moved on. He threw away everything we had built together, our friendship, our titles, the brotherhood. It enraged me. I stood and smacked the ice cream from his hand. As he began to tear up, a woman who I could only assume to be his mother ran up to me, shouting in French.
"Quel est le problème avec vous? Monstre!"
I didn't speak French, but I could tell she was upset. As the other bystanders who spoke English began to yell that I needed to control myself, I pulled my hood back up over my head and put my headphones back in and began to walk away.
♪♪Bitch Im a monster no good blood sucker
fat motherfucker now look whos in trouble
as you run through my jungle all you hear is rumbles
Kanye West sample, heres one for example♪♪
I was in control of my own self. I might not have liked myself, but I was in control. Now The Beard, or should I say Jasper Benson, wasn't in control of himself. He was guided by another hand. Despite that, I needed to focus, clear my head. Too often in the past I had let the fact that I had beaten someone in the past make me lazy. I would try to coast off of my past victories, and when it came to my dear Jasper, I had my fair share, but it almost always failed.
I walked back to my hotel, one I had specifically booked to be away from the rest of the roster. I tried to focus on The Beard. He would be a tough opponent, he was on a roll. My mind drifted to my matches with Ricky Runn and my early tag matches with Saxton and Saboteur. Each time I was victorious in our initial encounter, but my arrogance got the best of me. My mind was racing, I was unable to focus on The Beard, Jasper, James, myself. I passed the mirror in my room and looked deep into my own eyes. I put my hand to my face, touching my own skin. I became ashamed, then angry. There was no beauty in a wretch like myself. I clenched my fist, and with a yell I threw a hard right into the mirror. It shattered and fell to the ground. I walked to the other side of the room and rummaged in my bag. As I walked back to the door, I looked down into the shattered pieces of mirror and again saw my reflection again. With my mask on I was beautiful again, and I would spread the beauty to the world, to James, to Jasper, to myself.
Whats a mob to a king?
Whats a king to a god?
Whats a god to a non-believer?
Who dont believe in anything?
We make it out alive
All right, all right
No church in the wild♪♪
I pulled the zipper of my hoodie up higher, adjusted my headphones, and put my hood up as I walked out the door. Paris was foreign to me. Somehow it didn't feel as foreign as San Francisco, but that feeling would likely never go away. I found it funny in a way, as a young boy growing up in rural Indiana I dreamed of living in California. Where I was from, your dreams were often crushed. I never had it as bad as a kid from say Harlem or the South Side of Chicago, but unless your dreams included a factory or meth, you had few options. I was lucky in that regard, my dreams had come true. I packed up and moved to Cali, I had a great life. I was in the spotlight, I was liked, people knew who I was, for a time I could call myself champion.
♪♪I'm up in the woods, I'm down on my mind
I'm building a still to slow down the time
I'm up in the woods, I'm down on my mind
I'm building a still to slow down the time
I'm up in the woods, I'm down on my mind
I'm building a still to slow down the time♪♪
I reached into my pocket and hit the button to play the next song, all the while doing my best to keep my face hidden. This time last year I would have opened my arms to any fans that might have approached me. Its funny in a way how quickly things can change. In the span of the year I went from living with my best friend and being a tag team champion to living out of my car and being at odds with the man I used to call my brother. From shamelessly putting my face out as much as I could, to hiding my face everywhere I went.
I passed a street vendor and purchased a gryo and bottled water and continued my walk, my jacket zipped just low enough to allow myself to eat as I walked. After dripping some of the meat onto my chin, I decided to take a seat on a nearby bench to finish my meal. I looked around, hoping to catch a view of the Eiffel Tower. As I looked up a gust of wind caught my hood and blew it off. I dropped my gryo in an attempt to put it back on. I thought I was in the clear until a small kid, no more than eight or nine, walked up to me. He had an ice cream cone in his hand, some of it was smeared on his face. In a way he reminded me of a myself as a child.
"Hey, I know you."
The child looked at me, waiting for me to respond. I took my headphones from my ears.
"No you don't kid."
"Yes, I do. You're Mikey Stormrage. You used to be my favorite!"
I looked at the kid, almost choked up. For a moment I started to question the man I had become. I was a jealous, envious, spiteful man. I had turned on my best friend.
"Then you put on that mask and became a bad guy."
I wasn't the one who changed, it was James. He let ambition get the best of him. He turned on me. He was the one who planted me face first into the canvas. He pushed me to the side and moved on. He threw away everything we had built together, our friendship, our titles, the brotherhood. It enraged me. I stood and smacked the ice cream from his hand. As he began to tear up, a woman who I could only assume to be his mother ran up to me, shouting in French.
"Quel est le problème avec vous? Monstre!"
I didn't speak French, but I could tell she was upset. As the other bystanders who spoke English began to yell that I needed to control myself, I pulled my hood back up over my head and put my headphones back in and began to walk away.
♪♪Bitch Im a monster no good blood sucker
fat motherfucker now look whos in trouble
as you run through my jungle all you hear is rumbles
Kanye West sample, heres one for example♪♪
I was in control of my own self. I might not have liked myself, but I was in control. Now The Beard, or should I say Jasper Benson, wasn't in control of himself. He was guided by another hand. Despite that, I needed to focus, clear my head. Too often in the past I had let the fact that I had beaten someone in the past make me lazy. I would try to coast off of my past victories, and when it came to my dear Jasper, I had my fair share, but it almost always failed.
I walked back to my hotel, one I had specifically booked to be away from the rest of the roster. I tried to focus on The Beard. He would be a tough opponent, he was on a roll. My mind drifted to my matches with Ricky Runn and my early tag matches with Saxton and Saboteur. Each time I was victorious in our initial encounter, but my arrogance got the best of me. My mind was racing, I was unable to focus on The Beard, Jasper, James, myself. I passed the mirror in my room and looked deep into my own eyes. I put my hand to my face, touching my own skin. I became ashamed, then angry. There was no beauty in a wretch like myself. I clenched my fist, and with a yell I threw a hard right into the mirror. It shattered and fell to the ground. I walked to the other side of the room and rummaged in my bag. As I walked back to the door, I looked down into the shattered pieces of mirror and again saw my reflection again. With my mask on I was beautiful again, and I would spread the beauty to the world, to James, to Jasper, to myself.
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