Post by Michael Bishop on Jan 4, 2022 23:15:40 GMT -5
"Who knows what tomorrow will bring?
Maybe sunshine and maybe rain
But as for me, I'll wait and see
Maybe it'll bring my love to me, who knows"
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“Failure”, “Setbacks”, “Bumps in the road”. They’ve all got their variations, but they mean one thing: Loss. There’s an old proverb from the cage fighting scene: It’s now about how you get knocked down, it’s how you get back up. Everyone loses, everyone will eat defeat whether now or later. Someone will always best us, I’m man enough to admit Billy Bennett whooped my ass, I’ve been doing this for damn near 20 years. After the seventeen thousand umpteenth war, you realize ego matters very little when you get to my age. Someone always has your number, the thing that matters is how you react to it…
….You just gonna sit there, face down, wallow in your own self-pity? Blame it on someone else, blame it on the world. Or are you gonna grow a pair of stones, peel yourself up, and keep fucking moving. Find your fucking rage, grab your fucking blade, and drive it through the heart of the motherfucker that put you there. Perseverance, through the shitstorm of this industry, it has been my banner, my moniker, my foundation. It’s the foundation that has branded me the greatest professional fighter of our time, my time, my era, and every single fuckin’ era that I adapted to, beat, outpaced, and outlasted. The Long term fighter, the career fighting, the one that has flipped off the grim reaper and defied father time by staying on step ahead so I can gaze into their fuckin’ eyes and give a bloody smile.
Though it’s not without dangers. Jackals, Vultures, you get the notoriety I have, we have, even as you take losses it’s different from the outside looking in. An Aura of Invincibility is formed, and when it cracks, when you slip up… those seeking to leech off your life, limb, flesh, and success will come knocking. That’s exactly what surrounds us right now. Bianca, Logan, Nick; three slimy fucks licking their wounds, hoping to make us into a sentence in their career resume. I can lose, I have lost- but as Alyssa Grace pointed out the period of me dying for someone else’s story was extinguished the second I stepped into a cage decades ago.
I came to Project Honor to stake my claim, and I’ve learned first hand before that stepping onto a new territory, you’re bound to get jumped, ambushed, and cut up. The True Society has seen fit to make me a target, a scapegoat, and it would only please them to see me fall so far. Some would say loss after loss is irredeemable, but then again I didn’t earn the nickname “Revenant” for taking things the easy way. You don’t get the moniker of Walking Armageddon, throwing lefts and rights with the weight and devastation of thermonuclear warheads by pussyfooting and taking things the easy way. I dived headfirst into one of the biggest companies in combat sports today, I made a statement during the purge that made the True Society lock their crosshairs onto me and fail two times now to produce my death. I walked into the Noble Championship Title Match head high, and the shit talking, fire-spitting former belt jockey Slade Castle failed to get a single fuckin’ punch off on me like he promised.
And now… three god damn shitcans find their way onto my doorstep, squaring up to me promising to bring every single fuckin’ inch of ground I’ve gained as a fighter to an end. They would say this is the death of the Dreadknight and the end of Michael Bishop’s Project Honor run, but I see no threats, I see no challenge, all we are surrounded by is fear and dead men.
We. Because I’m not alone in this. I have no doubt I could easily bend each and every single one of you fuckers by your god damn vertebrae, with one of my perfectly working knees tied behind my back. Busting McBride’s skull on the floor whilst I’ve got Logan in a triangle, but I don’t get to hoard all of the bloodletting for myself.
Sawyer is a man I’ve fought alongside before. A man who’s ruthlessness rivals my own, and who’s will to suppress and control it is admirable. The Last Kingdom Pro Champion who stood shoulder to shoulder with me against a hoard of equally pathetic cans who we are going to walk through just as we did months ago. We both found ourselves here through the same word of mouth, and have both faced the same bullshit ever since landing on Project Honor shores, so it’s only fitting we fight off the same band of team rocket retards, on the same side.
And there’s Alyssa Grace. We both have the same killashandra red iron pumping through our veins, and we both didn’t let off the trigger when we met last time around. Alyssa promised to beat me, I promised to drill her into the fucking ground, and when a juggernaut met a war machine, the most violent stalemate I’ve had since headbutting a literal god found it’s way onto my career resume. And let me tell you, I am more than fucking impressed, in fact it makes me wish for a round two but that’s a war for another day. For now, our sights are locked onto common foes.
For now, I stand shoulder to shoulder with three of the very best, whom I can trust… in both their skill, caliber, and intentions. I’ve always let my actions speak louder than my words, even as I smash Laconicism over it’s head by saying all the shit I want, that I know needs to be said… but… The stumbling and faltering on my part ends here, it needs to end here. I don’t fucking care about the state of Fallout, the dangers of the True Society, or the god damn Vandals like these three idiots crawling out of the woodwork looking to ankle bite me right before I bury them into the god damn concrete. I came here to invade, I came here to shatter whatever little fuckin’ status quo that is set, and I came to seek victories, seek gold, and seek glory.
Some can call it legacy, but the only fuckin’ good legacy will do me is when I’m dead, my last battle fought, and even then It won’t be my problem. I seek blood, I seek war, I seek to be the Championkiller I have proven to be on five other different promotions by sharpening my blade against any and all who dare oppose me, challenger, champion or otherwise. And anyone who tries to fuck with that, will get stacked. Anyone who fucks around will find out very fucking soon, very quickly.
I’m planting my banner into Fallout soil; The heads of these three will be delivered, and then afterwards… we will move on. Logan, Bianca, Nick… You should have really picked a different match against different opponents, because you are about to feel the weight of three god damn warhammers coming to shatter your whole fuckin’ worldview the second that bell rings. Let’s place bets… what will break first? Your Spirit? Your Body?.... I have a feeling we won’t even get to see, because before any of that even happens. It will be lights out.
See you soon.
