04-02-2015, 10:59 AM
How do you defeat a man who makes false gods kneel before him and dispels nightmares lurking in the shadows so easily?
If all that mattered in our world was pin falls the we would be playing a very different game my friends. I showed you all at Lethal lottery that I was faster, stronger and quite frankly just smarter. I displayed a wealth of courage and tenacity that none of you were able to boast and ultimately in the end up I had that extra secret ingredient; luck. Everything that took place in that ring was fully within my control. It all played along too the plan of me kicking your ass and then walking out at the end of the night with the number one contendership. Everything, of course, other than the fact that S.A.M. would choose to screw Dylan George.
Can I be held accountable for that? No. Do I give a damn about the fact that Dylan George now has yet another reason to whine? You can bet your ass I don't.
I find it funny that our commentary team appeared to put so much emphasis on how Hero X-Treme 7.9 attempted to steal the pin fall but when Dylan George tries to do the same thing with less than ten seconds to go then it's a completely different ball game. Imagine the horror, just think of the uproar, if that imbecile Hero had his hand held high when the bell rang. It would appear to me that underhandedly pinching the win is only immoral when people don't like you. For what will be the only time during my tenure in XWF, allow me to once stick up for Hero X-Treme 7.9, by pointing out the stunning hypocrisy and... dare I say it... discrimination that was aimed at our faux-Lord.
Fortunately, it's all irrelevant because the only thing that matters is that Karl Cross won. I got the last pin fall in the match - I did that! No number of 'ifs' and 'buts' can take that away from me so I sure as hell am not about to start feeling bad for some 'middle card at best' moron who undoubtedly will feel that the world has done him a great injustice. Now, before you come leaping from the back with swings that will never reach this wonderful face, just bare in mind who your really enemy is at this point in time. S.A.M. should be the target of your revenge, it's him you should feel rage towards. The only feeling that you should hold for Karl Cross should be envy.
I'll allow you to be positively green at the thought of Karl Cross winning the X-Treme Championship.
However let me just say that I have absolutely no issues with showing you any time, any where, why the right man walked away from our match with his head held high. After you've done the valiant thing and dealt with S.A.M. then you just tell me where to be and I'll happily smash your face in again. I'd like to think that you wouldn't be stupid enough to climb in to the ring again with a future Universal Champion when you are so far beneath his level but I appreciate that even rats sometimes need to be taught the same lesson twice.
As for you S.A.M, I've no idea why you chose to do what you did. I can only assume that you are marvelled by my brilliance and in a trance of adoration you decided to ensure that your new hero won. I don't want you to feel bad thought because the same thing has happened to many a man much mentally stronger than you. You have however caused a bit of a predicament for me because, you see, I don't like owing people. I have a real issue with that. Regardless if what the agenda was behind your actions you have now caused me to be in your debt by assuring that Dylan didn't rob me of my earned victory. Somehow, in some way, I'll be paying you back because Karl Cross always settles his debts.
For now thought, I must focus on the task directly ahead of me - adding victory number two to the scoreboard. A task which looks to be not so challenging.
Pest dares to suggest that I should be wary because he learned his trade in the deep trenches of the jungle. What he fails to realise is that Karl Cross does not learn from the world - the world learns from Karl Cross. Every nuance of my being teaches the environment around me something new about itself.
When the world believes a man can't be beaten, Karl Cross shows them how easily it's done. When the world believes that a peak cannot be reached, Karl Cross shows how it is surpassed. When the world believes that something can't be destroyed, Karl Cross shows it effortlessly it is crumbled to dust. So you see, I don't fear that this match was made for you of that you were trained in the jungle because neither of those things are prepared for Karl Cross. No jungle of desert, no ocean or mountain, has ever been faced before with a man of my abilities. You have been educated by an environment that could learn a few lessons on toughness from me.
If I had to stomp in amongst the vines of the Amazon I'd bend that place to my will and teach it how to be stronger just like I'm going to do to you this Monday, Pest. You should start sounding grateful for the tutoring you're about to receive before I grow vexed by your apparent disdain.
What the hell is it with you people and pretending you are all some sort of monster? You ask if I am excited but what is supposed to be tantalising me? You're no more noteworthy than Dylan George tries to be, in fact you might just be more humdrum than he. At least I found Dylan interesting where as you appear to be an ever more generic version of a generic gimmick. Even, the way, you seem to talk, with weird pauses, like William Shatner, is more anaesthetising, than a cocktail, of sleeping pills.
Let me extend the hand of kindness though and say that if you want Karl Cross to help you find a more original little act then I would be more than happy to help you create your own mould to break. What about a skeleton? I don't think that's ever been done and would allow to brood in dark rooms like your accustomed to. Have we ever had an alligator wrangler? That could perhaps be something you could pull off better.
No, wait... I've got it!
After this Monday why don't you stop pretending to be something you aren't and just play the role of Karl Cross's latest squash victim. It's a perfect fit for you because that's exactly what you will be. The only drawback is that everyone on the roster will follow suit and adopt the same gimmick as the weeks roll by which means you'll be right back to being just one in a run-of-the-mill crowd after a while.
You should stop listening to that voice inside your head that convinces you to do stupid things like threaten Karl Cross. That demon on your shoulder just convinced you that you can beat the traffic to the other side of the road but failed to mention the speeding juggernaut that is Karl Cross looming just behind the bend. The lies whispered in to your ear tell you that all will be okay if you go skipping off of the sidewalk but in reality you're about to end up bent and broken as your soft tissue tears and your brittle bones are crushed. When mere men such as yourself step in the ring with me then there is only one possible outcome; you're mangled carcass lying in the middle of the canvas while I wheel off in to the distance.
If you want me to talk about falling in to traps then let's highlight the one that you are precariously hanging over. In the build up to what will surely be the biggest match of your career you threaten to plunge in to the same irksome depths of misconception that those last unlucky bastards before you did but focusing on my past achievements. Let me state for the record once again that I am not riding back in to the XWF spotlight on the waves of what I have already achieved. I've already explained that nobody here has to worry about how dangerous I've been in the past but they should be terrified of how deadly I am in the present.
Fear me for what I am best, not for what I was. The incarnation of Karl Cross you are about to dance with has learned a few more moves and he's not afraid of stepping on your toes.
***
If all that mattered in our world was pin falls the we would be playing a very different game my friends. I showed you all at Lethal lottery that I was faster, stronger and quite frankly just smarter. I displayed a wealth of courage and tenacity that none of you were able to boast and ultimately in the end up I had that extra secret ingredient; luck. Everything that took place in that ring was fully within my control. It all played along too the plan of me kicking your ass and then walking out at the end of the night with the number one contendership. Everything, of course, other than the fact that S.A.M. would choose to screw Dylan George.
Can I be held accountable for that? No. Do I give a damn about the fact that Dylan George now has yet another reason to whine? You can bet your ass I don't.
I find it funny that our commentary team appeared to put so much emphasis on how Hero X-Treme 7.9 attempted to steal the pin fall but when Dylan George tries to do the same thing with less than ten seconds to go then it's a completely different ball game. Imagine the horror, just think of the uproar, if that imbecile Hero had his hand held high when the bell rang. It would appear to me that underhandedly pinching the win is only immoral when people don't like you. For what will be the only time during my tenure in XWF, allow me to once stick up for Hero X-Treme 7.9, by pointing out the stunning hypocrisy and... dare I say it... discrimination that was aimed at our faux-Lord.
Fortunately, it's all irrelevant because the only thing that matters is that Karl Cross won. I got the last pin fall in the match - I did that! No number of 'ifs' and 'buts' can take that away from me so I sure as hell am not about to start feeling bad for some 'middle card at best' moron who undoubtedly will feel that the world has done him a great injustice. Now, before you come leaping from the back with swings that will never reach this wonderful face, just bare in mind who your really enemy is at this point in time. S.A.M. should be the target of your revenge, it's him you should feel rage towards. The only feeling that you should hold for Karl Cross should be envy.
I'll allow you to be positively green at the thought of Karl Cross winning the X-Treme Championship.
However let me just say that I have absolutely no issues with showing you any time, any where, why the right man walked away from our match with his head held high. After you've done the valiant thing and dealt with S.A.M. then you just tell me where to be and I'll happily smash your face in again. I'd like to think that you wouldn't be stupid enough to climb in to the ring again with a future Universal Champion when you are so far beneath his level but I appreciate that even rats sometimes need to be taught the same lesson twice.
As for you S.A.M, I've no idea why you chose to do what you did. I can only assume that you are marvelled by my brilliance and in a trance of adoration you decided to ensure that your new hero won. I don't want you to feel bad thought because the same thing has happened to many a man much mentally stronger than you. You have however caused a bit of a predicament for me because, you see, I don't like owing people. I have a real issue with that. Regardless if what the agenda was behind your actions you have now caused me to be in your debt by assuring that Dylan didn't rob me of my earned victory. Somehow, in some way, I'll be paying you back because Karl Cross always settles his debts.
For now thought, I must focus on the task directly ahead of me - adding victory number two to the scoreboard. A task which looks to be not so challenging.
Pest dares to suggest that I should be wary because he learned his trade in the deep trenches of the jungle. What he fails to realise is that Karl Cross does not learn from the world - the world learns from Karl Cross. Every nuance of my being teaches the environment around me something new about itself.
When the world believes a man can't be beaten, Karl Cross shows them how easily it's done. When the world believes that a peak cannot be reached, Karl Cross shows how it is surpassed. When the world believes that something can't be destroyed, Karl Cross shows it effortlessly it is crumbled to dust. So you see, I don't fear that this match was made for you of that you were trained in the jungle because neither of those things are prepared for Karl Cross. No jungle of desert, no ocean or mountain, has ever been faced before with a man of my abilities. You have been educated by an environment that could learn a few lessons on toughness from me.
If I had to stomp in amongst the vines of the Amazon I'd bend that place to my will and teach it how to be stronger just like I'm going to do to you this Monday, Pest. You should start sounding grateful for the tutoring you're about to receive before I grow vexed by your apparent disdain.
What the hell is it with you people and pretending you are all some sort of monster? You ask if I am excited but what is supposed to be tantalising me? You're no more noteworthy than Dylan George tries to be, in fact you might just be more humdrum than he. At least I found Dylan interesting where as you appear to be an ever more generic version of a generic gimmick. Even, the way, you seem to talk, with weird pauses, like William Shatner, is more anaesthetising, than a cocktail, of sleeping pills.
Let me extend the hand of kindness though and say that if you want Karl Cross to help you find a more original little act then I would be more than happy to help you create your own mould to break. What about a skeleton? I don't think that's ever been done and would allow to brood in dark rooms like your accustomed to. Have we ever had an alligator wrangler? That could perhaps be something you could pull off better.
No, wait... I've got it!
After this Monday why don't you stop pretending to be something you aren't and just play the role of Karl Cross's latest squash victim. It's a perfect fit for you because that's exactly what you will be. The only drawback is that everyone on the roster will follow suit and adopt the same gimmick as the weeks roll by which means you'll be right back to being just one in a run-of-the-mill crowd after a while.
You should stop listening to that voice inside your head that convinces you to do stupid things like threaten Karl Cross. That demon on your shoulder just convinced you that you can beat the traffic to the other side of the road but failed to mention the speeding juggernaut that is Karl Cross looming just behind the bend. The lies whispered in to your ear tell you that all will be okay if you go skipping off of the sidewalk but in reality you're about to end up bent and broken as your soft tissue tears and your brittle bones are crushed. When mere men such as yourself step in the ring with me then there is only one possible outcome; you're mangled carcass lying in the middle of the canvas while I wheel off in to the distance.
If you want me to talk about falling in to traps then let's highlight the one that you are precariously hanging over. In the build up to what will surely be the biggest match of your career you threaten to plunge in to the same irksome depths of misconception that those last unlucky bastards before you did but focusing on my past achievements. Let me state for the record once again that I am not riding back in to the XWF spotlight on the waves of what I have already achieved. I've already explained that nobody here has to worry about how dangerous I've been in the past but they should be terrified of how deadly I am in the present.
Fear me for what I am best, not for what I was. The incarnation of Karl Cross you are about to dance with has learned a few more moves and he's not afraid of stepping on your toes.
***
The morning after Lethal Lottery III, Karl sat alone in a small diner in the outskirts of the city. His slightly bruised knuckles were wrapped around the Styrofoam cylinder of a cheap coffee cup. The contents tasted stale and burnt however the caffeine boost was proving to be enough to keep him gulping it down. Despite the rather depressing surrounding, the new X-Treme Championship number one contender was in high spirits. The two stitches in the back of his skull along with a few aches and pain were the only tell tale signs of the hard fought battle the night before. Despite his body feeling slightly weaker today, he was mentally stronger knowing that once again he had proven his legitimacy as the world's finest professional athlete.
Just as he was swallowing the last mouthful of his third re-fill, a waitress approached clutching the pot. Karl smiled as she drew near and admired the tight curls that fell gently down across her smooth ebony skin. She had the most beautiful lips that Karl had probably seen in his life and the sort of eyes that you would want to stay awake just to stare in to. Karl looked around at the array of seated troll that looked right at home in such a squalor little place and then back to the waitress. He had no idea why such a gemstone would choose to be hidden away in a box of plastic beads.
Just as he was swallowing the last mouthful of his third re-fill, a waitress approached clutching the pot. Karl smiled as she drew near and admired the tight curls that fell gently down across her smooth ebony skin. She had the most beautiful lips that Karl had probably seen in his life and the sort of eyes that you would want to stay awake just to stare in to. Karl looked around at the array of seated troll that looked right at home in such a squalor little place and then back to the waitress. He had no idea why such a gemstone would choose to be hidden away in a box of plastic beads.
"Good morning, mister. Sure haven't seen you around here in a while. More coffee?"
Karl suddenly remembered why society had dictated that she should be kept away from the general public - her awful southern drawl was an offence to the ears. Each horrendous syllable that her mouth fumbled made Karl's jaw clench as she babbled through whatever version of English she was attempting to chew out. His smiled dropped as he responded only with a thumbs up.
"What can I do you for today then, mister?"
He watched as she filled another portion of thick treacle-like coffee in to his cup and resisted the urge to pour it in to his ears. He contemplated responding with a simple shake of the head but he was hungry and he suspected that someone who sounded so stupid wouldn't be able to read so pointing at the menu would be pointless.
"Scrambled eggs on brown bread."
"Coming right up."
Karl watched as she glanced him a smile before gliding back up the row of table as she scribbled in her notepad. The rubber soles of her cheap shoes squeaked ever so slightly on the tiled floor as she went. The Xtreme Championship number one contender drew his attention away and watched the street from the window. Spring has started to rise as was evident by fresh buds growing plump on outstretched arms above the grey granite. From a stretch of flowerbed separating opposite sides of the row peeked the of new daffodils still sleepy from the winter. The air held a crisp coolness despite the sun casting a warming glow over everything it observed. It truly was a beautiful day.
The serenity was shattered by the ringing of Karl's mobile phone. The sigh that escaped his lungs didn't sound even a fraction of his true level of annoyance. Snatching it from the table he glared at the display to find it was only a text message.
The serenity was shattered by the ringing of Karl's mobile phone. The sigh that escaped his lungs didn't sound even a fraction of his true level of annoyance. Snatching it from the table he glared at the display to find it was only a text message.
"BOOKED AGAINST PEST ON MONDAY. GOOD LUCK."
Good luck? Great men don't need luck.
To his left the pretty waitress came sliding back in to view with his lukewarm breakfast. She placed in softly down on to his mat as Karl looked on unimpressed at the poached eggs on two buttered slices of white toast. Slowly he lifted his head with disgust spilled across his face until his eyes met hers. The stare down last for what felt like a good few minutes with the waitress losing her own sunny disposition in every passing second. Finally Karl broke in to overcompensating grin causing her to smile nervously.
"Why don't you take a seat for a minute?"
"I can't; I'm working I'm afra..."
"Sit!"
The waitress jumped before shifting uncomfortably in the seat across from Karl.
"What's your name?"
"Jenny."
"That's a nice name, Jenny. I knew a Jenny once. Such a sweet girl too. You know, she was a lot like you."
"A lot like me?"
"Sure was. She was dumb as dog shit as well."
Jenny recoiled in shock before pressing the palms of her hands against the table to push herself up.
"I didn't say you could go."
"I'm not going to sit here and be insulted."
"You're insulted? I'm the one that has this sorry excuse for a meal plopped down on my lap all because you can't seem to listen to and accurately record five simple words."
The young girl's eyes began to well up as her cheeks turned red. Karl's expression turned to one of feigned concern.
"I'm sorry Jenny it's just I'm under a lot of stress. You see, I'm going to be a champion in a short time and so I need to eat like a champion. Tell me, do you think that the swill you just brought out here is a meal fit for a champion?"
The other diners in the restaurant had by this point dropped their forks and turned to watch the commotion. One man had made a start to intervene on Jenny's defence but catching sight of Karl's physique had forced him to sit down. Jenny looked at the plate before barely shaking her head.
"Then please don't be a pest and go pop through to the back to get me what I actually asked for."