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Prince Adeyemi · (12-03-2022)

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Isaiah King Corporation Said:The following is a work of art, a visceral experience, an unparalleled masterpiece produced by Isaiah King Corporation. It will be best enjoyed along with its musical accompaniment and your full attention, any less and you should be ashamed of yourself. Try to keep your hand(s) out of your pants, if you can - you have been warned.

Play it.

28th October 2022

Bzzt. Your screen flickers to life but something doesn’t quite seem right. As the camera’s lenses whir and begin to focus you realise it’s lying on its side, in the middle of a ring. You see the feet, wearing the recognisable black and red boots, of Isaiah King. There are four stools placed in the shape of a diamond in the ring.

An astute watcher of his last vignette would’ve noticed a shift in seating position, no longer sitting in the middle but sitting on a stool to the right, his left profile facing the camera. As the audio comes through your speakers you catch a few words.

“How long are you going to play this… game?”

The voice sounds faintly familiar, but you can’t quite place where it’s from. With only Isaiah’s boots in the frame, you can’t tell who is speaking and to whom.

“You’re going to just keep us waiting while you…play with these children?”

The mood feels somehow tense. Nothing on the frame is moving, it could’ve been a photo and you’d notice no difference.

Bzzz.

“Oh… oh, oh - I will be one of the greatest-“

A phone’s vibration and the familiar song play through your speakers and the feet finally move. Isaiah gets up from the stool as he stops the phone’s ringing.

“Yo, Tech’, what’s up?”

This time the voice is clearly Isaiahs, familiar and sultry.

“Sunday morning? Yeah, sure thing bud.”

“Haha, appreciate the support, I’ll be sure to bring my fresh title along - you know it, confidence is the game.”

“Yeah, don’t sweat it, a little bruises make the Champ look all that sexier. I’ll see you then. Peace.”

The feet walk towards the camera, and your perspective begins to shift as he lifts it up to his face. Isaiah has a soft smile on, the last thing you see before the camera flickers off.

30th October 2022

Your screen flickers back on to two days after the events of Isaiah’s last vignette, a little time stamp on the right side of the screen helpfully letting you know. We’re all about signposting here at IKC. The first thing you see the beautiful gold and red of the Savage Television Title, as the camera zooms out to reveal it draped on the even more glorious shoulders of Isaiah King. This time he’s got a white dress shirt on, tucked neatly into a pair of cream dress pants. On his face is plastered a wide smile, slightly bashful at how close the camera is to him - though not bashful enough to spare you a wink through the screen. Hehe, he’s quite a showman isn’t he?

Your speakers begin to capture the noise of the street, and the giggling and chatter of younger voices. The more the camera zooms out, the more distinct these sounds begin and the children and teenagers that begin to pop up on-screen help you decode them completely. Isaiah’s standing behind a plastic table, placed on a grass patch in some sort of community park. The table has a little crowd around it and a long, mostly useless line stretching out from it.
Beside Isaiah’s table is a few others placed side by side, with large pots of pasta, sauce, meatballs, hotdogs and chicken wings. Ooh, who do we have here?. From the right side of the frame a slightly sweaty, oversized-shirt-wearing Immortal Technique walks in with a small kid on his shoulders and another full pot of mashed potatoes in his hand.

“Aight, aight, aight, move aside before I dump this all up in yo’ dreads. Sorry ‘bout that, Izzy”

Technique gestures as much as possible with an elbow towards the crowd forming around Isaiah.

“Hey, it ain’t everyday I get to hang with the future champions of Harlem like this - amiright kids?”

The kids burst into a loud cheer of “King, King, He’s our King!”

“It ain’t every day Harlem has a champion to boast about. Means a lot man.”

“Thanks for the invite, Felipe.”

There’s a massive streamer over the tables, tied to two trees that reads “Y.U.N.G Harlem Present’s YUNG Champions of Harlem Feat. Immortal Technique and Isaiah King”. Parents can be seen standing along the sides, holding smaller children and catching up with each other. The youth seem to range from middle to high school.

As Immortal Technique, Felipe, puts down the pot of mash - a couple of volunteers wearing bright purple “Y.U.N.G Harlem” shirts try to get the kids organised with little success. Isaiah catches sight of this and raises his hand into the air, lifting up the title to catch the morning Sun beautifully.

“Laaaaaadies and Gentlemen! Booooooys and girl! Are. You. Reaaaaaaady???”

The kids burst into a cheer, giggles fill the air. The only thing running through your mind is how much you want to call him daddy.

“Let’s get ready to feeeeeeaaaast! I am your XWF Television Champion, Isaiah King and I can’t wait to eat some of Uncle Tech’s Very Special Mashed Potatoes! Ya’ll better get your future champion butts in a nice orderly line, grab a plate and some cutlery. Young’s to the front, youth’s in the middle - get your kid siblings some food before you get yourself some. In Harlem we don’t eat when your brother is hungry, amiright?”

The children cheer in affirmation and begin their slow shuffle into some form of order. A particularly larger child is sighted pushing his way through the crowd. Nudging small boys and girls alike out of the way. Before Tech can stop Isaiah, the Heir’s firm hand finds it way to the boy’s shoulder. He squeezes just lightly, but enough to get the boy to stop. The kid shrugs his shoulder trying to swat the hand away before realising who it belongs to.

“We do things right, or we don’t do them at all! Am I right, boy?”

The boy turns to look at Isaiah and gives him a sheepish grin, halting his advance.

“Yessir.”

“Repeat after me, we do things right, or we don’t do them at all.”

“W-we d-do things r-right, or we d-don’t d-d-do them at all.”

“There ya go, now head to the back and see if any of the fine mommas are having trouble getting food. Go on.”

The kid immediately makes his way out of the crowd and towards the back. His pits have sweat stains and his face has clearly lost some blood. Isaiah’s not the kind of guy you want to mess with, especially when you’re a 15 year old brat.

“You ain’t had to do him like that Isaiah.”

“Ain’t nobody going to be quite so kind to him. It’s so he stays on the right path.”

“He gonna be walking that path with shorts drenched in piss though.”

“Maybe for him, that’s optimal.”

Isaiah’s shifts back into a pleasant smile as he picks up a kid and hands him his title. The camera fades to black as he carries on with his pleasantries.

4th November 2022

The screen flickers back on the same park, now empty from the crowd. Isaiah is standing perfectly centred, in an oversized grey tank top, boxing shorts and his training shoes. Long, sweat-stained socks stretch up his calf, ankle weights strapped against his calves and thighs. His hands are covered in weighted gloves that looks heavy and dense. His forearms tense just holding his arms out, elbows bent, in-front of himself. His Television Championship is strapped tightly around his waist, adding more weight to his body.

The camera focuses on our lovely protagonist, who tilts his head slightly to the side as he looks straight into the camera.

”Howdy folks. Welcome to a new era.

I’m sure most of you weren’t expecting to be under new leadership quite so soon, neither did I. I’m much more used to having to fight tooth and nail against the system not have it work so wonderfully to my favour.

But here we are. I your champion. You my roaring people.

Not just the lovely fans mind you, every single on of you on the Savage roster too.

I, you champion. You, my cheering people.

Isaiah King, the Television Champion.

Isaiah King, the Heir Apparent.

Isaiah King, the man headed to the top.

Isaiah King, the man to lift you up.

I’m sure the more I say my name, the more the announcer calls it out and the more XWF markets me as it’s future face - the faster it’ll get imprinted on your minds. The faster you’ll realise there’s no better place for you to be.

You’re in my kingdom now.

A Kingdom that might seem small, just a few victories under our belt.

A kingdom that might seem premature, not enough heads on sticks.

Yet a kingdom that is glorious, with a glorious champion at it’s helm.

Whether you’re sold, whether you want to be on board - know that you are.

As your king conquers more, as he takes down more, be sure you’ll fall in love or fall in line.
I am Isaiah King - and I’m a champion who’s going to do things right. That’s the only way to win your trust.

No more games, no more time wasting, no more drama. This championship will be refined by my blood and yours.

No more interference, no more grudge matches. This championship will be for the wrestler, for the fighter.

No more cheating, no more foolishness. This champions will be clean, there’ll be no gimmick.

You’ll all fall in love with my wrestling. You’ll fall in love with my honour. You’ll fall in love with my rest.

John Madison Junior - Can I call you Junior?

I’m excited to have you be more first opponent.

I’ll face you in a clean fighter’s match - you, me, the ring. No count outs, no disqualifications.

The first to pin or submit the other wins. I won’t be having this match lost on some dumb interference from a salty past champion.

But I’ll also trust you to fight clean - lest you force me to destroy you for a lack of honour.

I’ve been carrying communities my entire life - the XWF is just next in line. Hop on my back Junior, and I’ll take you to the very top.”

OOC: couldn't get my formatting done in time oops.

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