Post by Michael Bishop on Mar 29, 2022 18:09:16 GMT -5
“I don’t believe this tag team has what it takes…”
Michael Bishop strafes around a wooden post, rain sets in as hard winds cut his face. He’s dressed in a track suit, a beanie protecting his head as he wears two fight gloves. He goes at it, bit by bit, he fires off concentrated shots… a straight, a jab, a a hook, a backfist… at a singular spot in the post. For an opponent his size, it’d be right around the liver. There’s a disconnect in fighting; everyone has a plan, everyone is a bad motherfucker, until they take a kidney shot. Not many will step in, even fewer will make it to that ending bell…
…Except Liz Karlson. Roll back the clock a month and a half, Michael was worried about the unlikely tag team. And yet… two victories deep and the tag team had cemented they were what they said they were: The real fuckin’ deal. He thinks about what she said, being “tired of how things were going…” a mantra repeated by many, yet acted upon by few. And yet… a couple months later…
Bishop strikes into the post again, and again, concentrating his strikes, his will, upon the very spot… it cracks and splinters- A couple of months later, Michael Bishop beats 39 others to win the Clash of the Titans, Liz Karlson becomes the Apex World Heavyweight Championship. Though they acted alone, it seemed them uniting brought together a new vigor, a new resolve, a new war plan to both of them. And now, they turn to Project Honor. The Tag Team Championships in their sights… and absolutely nothing to stop them.
Bishop hops back from the wooden post, throwing a spinning back kick that cuts the thing in half upon impact. As it falls to the ground, a moment of silence passes… a moment of clarity. As the post shatters, so do his doubts about BFG Division. His doubts of whether or not he could trust another person to be his partner in war. His doubts about whether or not they’re gonna make it….
Liz Karlson herself performs a backflip off a turnbuckle, performing a few combinations off a rope rebound. Even with being worn down by her Apex bout, she never was one to let fatigue stop her. Bishop respected that- he warned caution as always, but Liz Karlson always respectfully told the odds to get fucked. Bishop respected that as well. She was world champion tier material, she proved it by becoming a world champion. The offense that she dealt out would make mosts head spin, others spin off their body… Karlson stops in the ring, catching her breathe and favoring her neck.
“A little sloppy on that rebound, but all around… good shit” she turns to see Bishop enter the training room, she rolls her eyes, he laughs; “I’m kidding. You know, you could take a rest day”. She walks over to the far set of the ropes, grabbing her water bottle “You, talking about rest? Tell me Mike, when’s the last time you took it easy?”. Bishop ponders this… realizing that since October 2019, his recovery. February 2020 his return… he hasn’t let off the pedal one damn bit. He hops up onto the apron and enters… an action that might have hurt him once upon a time, does not even face the now war machine back in his prime.
“Good shit, Champ” Bishop says, his eyes snap to the AWHC, “-I told you, you’d be back to form”, “You mean I told you”, “There was a fair bit of reiteration… point stands. Good shit”. Liz drinks from the water bottle, shrugging; “Putting away a lot of these shitheads over the past few weeks killed a lot of doubts… no more being under anyone’s boot, we’re here to fuck shit up and take it for ourselves”.
“Good, because this next one should put us shit to the test". Liz raises an eyebrow at Mike’s words, confused; “What? These guys? One of them is Zack Cage and well… what the hell has that Vanilla fuck done besides soaking up glorified table scraps by being the company’s fucking doormat?”. Bishop shakes his head “Oh no, Zack isn’t the problem. The guy we need to pay attention to is Angelo Caito; Former Champion, Staple of Fallout and Project Honor… and Brandon Hendrix’s mentor”.
The last name struck a chord with Liz; “You seem irked, what was facing him like?”. Bishop thinks back for a moment “Violent… aggressive… I have no doubt if we ever met on more even, less retarded terms, I’d be the viktor. But… Hendrix has a level of determination, grit and anger that only I know so well- we know so well. Both of us gave it our all. He’s one of the most slept on juggernauts in Project Honor, and Angelo Caito is the man that helped create him”. Bishop paces back and forth, eyes piercing, scanning around; “I’ve trained a lot of fighters in my time, Liz. All of them straight killers, many of whom will probably thank me in their hall of fame speeches when I’m long dead, six feet under… but I know what it takes to make and mold a monster, I know what kind of motherfucker you have to be-”.
“-and I know that as proven as Angelo thinks he is… people think he may be, everything you done in your lifetime dwarfs his shit. You’re Michael fucking Bishop, The Heavyweight King, the fucking Man… he’s a former champion nearing the end of his rope trying to find room to break his free fall, after the biggest highlight of his year was that Arik Holt bullshit. I might be a bit sore, but come fight night it won’t matter a single god damn bit when adrenaline is pumping in my veins- it never has. We’re a team, we’re a unit, and he’s the least shit leg of a handicapped side of a match”.
“That’s why we’re gonna sink our claws into that hide of his, and tear him five ways from sunday- drawn and quarter style. He’s walking on BFG turf now, Karlson. Let’s shown him what the fuck happens when you fuck around-”.
“And then after this I can give you some advice for your upcoming world title bout”
“Yeah, yeah- very funny”.
Many believed BFG was going to be a failed experiment, the unlikely alliance of two of professional wrestling’s most violent and abrupt stars put together. Liz Karlson and I knew we had to do something, change the formula of the way things were going or we would be on a downward spiral… and I’ve fought off enough downward spirals to be really fucking tired of the eb and flow. And now here we are… two months later, two bouts later, and yet on all shores across the world the two of us seem to be doing exactly what the fuck we said we were going to do…
Take what is ours.
It’s no secret we’re gunning for the Tag Team Championships here in Project: Honor, we have been since day one. And the only way to build momentum in a company drenched in egotism, nepotism, and political fuckery is by raising the Black Flag and cutting down every single motherfucker god puts in your way. The only way to turn heads, is by taking off someone else’s. The only way to prove that you’re worthy to be the champion, is by clearing the field. Remove the pieces, clear the board, surround the kings in their castle and then drag them out kicking and screaming.
But before that happens, another test of BFG’s proficiency finds its way to our doorstep; Angel Caito and Zack Cage. But let’s be honest here, really it’s just Angelo Caito. Let’s play a game, Angelo: “Why in the flying fuck are you even in this match?”. Well it’s pretty simple: You pissed off Arik Holt and the brass and as a result, they decided to throw you to the wolves shortly after your apparent “Death”. But as always… the details of your demise were greatly exaggerated and the former Gatekeeper Champion rises to face a white hot tag team of World Heavyweight Bruisers in our prime. I respect your tenacity, I respect your grit- but in order to get those tag team championships we’re going to need to beat you, break you down to whatever base components made you, and drive our banner through the spine of whatever the fuck is left.
This is BFG territory, this is the turf of the motherfuckers who have been taking over the industry continent by continent, promotion by promotion closing in on Fallout like a pack of hungry wolves. We’re here to solidify our ability as a team, our unity as a force, and we’re here to etch in stone what happens when you cross us, what happens when you try and stop us. We’re gonna tear the layers off of your championship credibility, we’re gonna dissect who Angelo Caito was, and will be… and we’re gonna show you that as strong as a champion you might have been…. It was only a fraction of what we are. I've spent the last year, doing nothing but breaking down former champions, surgically destroying and dethroning current champions, and spending every single day hunting down future champions. Karlson over there put on a better match in 20 minutes than you have in 20 years, I have more violence, hunger, and brawn in my pinky than you do in your testosterone lacking body, and we’re going to lash you to a fucking cross and straight crucify you by the end of this shit.,
The brass are treating you as lambs to the slaughter, and as much as I would like to provide sympathy- I really don’t fucking care. You will not survive, None Shall Live, except for two. You will not succeed, you will not dream because by the end of the second bell there will be nothing but death, destruction, and a decisive BFG victory as we proceed on. That’s not a prediction, that’s a promise, a statement, a warning.
