Education (Vs Bianca McBride)
Jan 18, 2022 19:30:13 GMT -5
bennett, Alyssa Grace, and 1 more like this
Post by Michael Bishop on Jan 18, 2022 19:30:13 GMT -5
2022. Fuckin’ hell… This officially marks my 19th year in Combat Sports. There’s pros and cons to getting old. Pros: I can drink all I want, I can do what I can, go where I want, I can buy all the Grade A American Firepower I want… And then Cons: It’s never easy seeing the world around you change. Things passing you buy, and the only way to keep yourself from becoming obsolete, out of date- especially in fighting- is by putting your pedal to the fucking metal and charging straight forward to race father time.
Once upon a time, I was a young kid from Chicago fighting in the regional cage fighting scene. I would like to say it was of passion… but that was later awoken out of me. No, I came to fighting out of necessity… for survival. My mother was sick, she couldn’t pay rent. My girlfriend was struggling in a shit economy, and I needed to do something. So I did what any good, cruel motherfucker would do… I taped my fists, I Put a mouth guard in… I went to a sociopathic mad man and made a deal with the devil to made me the most ruthless motherfucker now. And that passion I talked about… it was less passion, and more hunger. Since the dawn of time, we humans have been fighting; against nature, against animals, against each other. With metal, with bronze.. And at the start- with our bare hands.
It’s only instinctual that fighting and war is in our DNA. Effectively what old Coach Paylon did was baptize me in the fucking fire to become the apex of all of it. I spent so much time in the cage being the aggressor, the pursuer, I forgot one of the key things my coach told me: You stack enough bodies, you take enough heads… you’re gonna make a name for yourself. You’ll have a target on your back with or without a title. Your name becomes more, it becomes rumor… and then infamy… and then, legend.
Now here I am, 20 years later… Hundreds of wars, thousands of rounds, enough blood in the cracks of my knuckles to clone a person, or give someone HIV. I’ve noticed in the past few years, young bucks have risen up to try and take my head, whether or not they want to. Some overseas, others in Japan… here… in Project: Honor? A gaggle fuck of mothafuckers all looking to take the heads off of Sawyer, Alyssa, and myself. I remember one was named, “Logan”? Can barely remember the other one’s name… but one I do remember is a feisty motherfucker calling herself Bianca McBride.
You were looking to make a name for yourself, Bianca, I don’t blame you. Hell, I respect that. You’re a young chip motherfucker on the block, what better to build your personal resume that by taking down two main eventers and an MMA Legend. Cute, but I didn’t get this far, remain looking this good in a profession where you get punched in the face, by pussy footing around every corner. No, the amount of scars that line my body is one thing, but that is only a fraction of what I have inflicted upon the combat sports world. There’s another key rule about being the younger pursuer, with you standing where I once was… Don’t fuck with a War Machine still very well in his prime, and even more so, don’t come back for seconds when we beat the blood and bricks off you in a Two on Three handi-capped match.
Here’s the thing Bianca, I’ll keep it real: I respect the fact that you got this far through your athletic ability, grit, and absolute aggression. Fair-thefuck-enough, but check it. You let yourself be driven by aggression and rage, you sink too deep into that hunger for the fight it will blind you and drown you. You’re charging headfirst into barrier after barrier, monster after monster, hoping that eventually you’ll get your big day, hoping that if you try and fucking fail to spill enough blood, someone might notice and throw you a fucking bone.
Well guess what… You’re a very stoppable object, as we saw last time when I cracked your fucking dome open, that just came upon the immovable, bloodthirsty force that has haunted this industry that you tread upon so inconsiderately. For the first time in your project honor run, you’re now the prey, I mean you always were… but you never believed it until now, did you. You signed a dotted line that will be hailed as your fucking obituary. Your back is against the wall- and I am the fuckin’ wall.
You’re tough, you’re aggressive- but you’re not good enough. You know what the benefit of fighting for as long as I have is? You see everything… you predict everything… Sure you can miss a few, eat a knee here and there- I’m only human, but did you notice something Bianca. You charged in, you flailed, you went for the kill… but you were sloppy. You didn’t land a single god damn bit of offense, I ducked and weaved like a featherweight. That made your blood run cold. And when I struck, I hit harder than any single sonuvabich in this god damn company. That made you rethink every single fuckin’ decision you made thus far.
There’s being ambitious, there’s being hungry… there’s charging head first and leaving nothing left to be seen, there’s Bianca McBride. And then… there’s the cold, harsh reality that is The Dreadknight. I told you, I’ve walked these fucking streets before. In a different company, in a different time, call me an old man with a bum knee, yet I still bury every single son of a bitch I come across, and I have the balls to step in here against any man, god, demon, or conspirator. You let your drive become a poison, Bianca, you let it make you sloppy. Don’t act like there’s any going back now, kid. You’re knee deep, a mile up shits creek without even a hope for a fuckin’ paddle, you set your sights on me just like every other son of a bitch has, and it failed, and unlike them, you didn’t give me a scar to flaunt over your bleeding ass when you see those lights.
So let me do you a favor, Bianca, let me educate you. You have potential, but you’re never going to get anywhere by stumbling through the dark. The only god damn thing you’re going to get is a mountain of CTE and barely any loose change in your pocket when they cast your musty, beaten ass to the curb. It’s time I show you what it means to be a fighter, it’s time I show you what it means to be fucking baptized. I’m going to spend bell to bell educating you, and the only god damn thing you’re gonna have at the end of that five yard line is your anger, foaming at the mouth, as I beat the living tar out of you. What’s gonna break first kid? Probably your mind… then your body after I disect you bit by bit, limb by limb, tendon by tendon. Don’t worry, you’ve got company healthcare… but you’re never going to forget the phantom pains that will radiate through your muscles years after this. That is the lesson, that is the reminder, that is me.
I came to Project Honor, the eight promotion in my short few years here in tenure of Professional Wrestling. Everyone talks about “making the jump”, but no one has ever done it as well as I. I have held gold in every single company I have arrived on, I am a current Heavyweight Champion, I am the greatest Heavyweight of all time, the greatest Professonal fighter of all time. That’s not a boast Bianca, that’s fact, that’s truth, written in the blood of every single motherfucker who stepped up, and got knocked the fuck down- every single one of them your betters, your veterans, your superiors. Fallout isn’t your place, this isn’t your time, this is Dreadknight Country now. And I’m going to plant my banner in the sand, and through your god damn heart.
See you soon.
