The Newborn King - Printable Version

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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.

Your screen flickers to life, a screen of grey. The concrete sideway the camera is pointed at is wet, left splotchy from years of gum, piss and other bodily fluid.. It’s as cold as ya’ mother’s bed, ladies and gentlemen, this is some horrid weather to be filming in.. The camera shakes, as if it’s being handle.

Isaiah’s clad in a beautifully warm looking coat, the neck area covered with a grey fur… Yeah, probably wolf fur from somewhere in Russia, just because he’s that kind of sexy. . Beside him is a baby pink-clad petite figure, an arm wrapped around the elbow of Isaiah.

The camera follows creepily a few steps behind the pair.

“Iz, you’ve really got to slow down or I’m gonna break something.”

“You know I’ll catch you if you do.”

“Uhm, I’m not so sure - part of me thinks you’ll let me fall just to laugh at me… A pretty big part at that.”

“Always thought you knew me better than I knew myself.”

“I do.”

Isaiah chuckles, squeezing his elbow, and Chae’s arm, into his side. The two continue walking down the pavement, in what looks to be somewhere near Times Square, New York.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve been able to get my head out of the ring.”

“There you go again, lying.”

“Whadd-“

“In the six years I’ve known you, your heads never once been outside of the ring.”

“Ah, but I do try.”

“Not sure about that pretty boy, when you try - you do. And you haven’t done… So you’re certainly not trying.”

“Is that a lil whine I hear in that voice?”

“Hmm, it would be nice to not think I’m competing with Roided Up Man-child and Undead Mikey for your attention when we’re in bed.”

“You d-“

“I know I do.”

“Sorry.”

The two take a turn off the mainstream, sliding into one of the many off streets. They’re huddled close together, and it’s only the honks and bustle of the New York crowd that’s kept them from noticing the camera man following them.

“You don’t apologise for being too focused, it’s literally what makes you… You. If you were off dealing with every last thing, and focusing on every other endeavour, you wouldn’t have goal around your waist or a girl around your arm.”

“Yes ma’m, that’s why I pay you.”

“To do your marketing… Not sleep with you, for the record.”

“Oh, is that what I pay you for? Damn, I’m getting ripped-“

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

With a chuckle, you catch Isaiah slide a hand across the Chae’s face and plant a soft kiss on her forehead. As his beautiful lips lift off her flawless skin, a voice breaks through the speakers.

“Mr King! Right over here, glad you could make it!”

A well-dressed man, draped in the finest Italian suit and long overcoat is standing on the street with a tray in his hands. On the silver tray lies two glasses of champagne. He extends the tray out to the pair as they turn to the door he’s standing before. The sign above it reads “Les Bouchons”.

“Phillipe, it’s good to see you again, it’s been quite awhile.”

“Ah yes sir, what with you winning titles and kicking asses.”

“You allowed to have a dirty mouth like that?”

“As long as you keep tipping, I’m allowed to do whatever I want.”

“Yeah, give us some of that south of France ass-kickery and I might bump that tip up a percentage.”

“Whatever makes you happy, Mr King.”

The camera follows the two as they brush the frost off their shoes and walk into the warm interior of Les Bouchons. The restaurant looks simple, with red carpet floors and white table clothes. The feed cuts, before the feed returns from the perspective of someone in the kitchen. He walks past a mirror, and you realise the camera seems to be mounted onto his glasses.

“Mr King, your first course, deep fried duck skin garnished with local herbs - I call it, duck hunting season.”

“Ah, Chef Henry, I cannot wait.”

The chef, who’s also second-hatting as the cameraman stands aside, keeping an “eye” on the pair as they dig into the first plate.

“Fancy lunch, is that how you say sorry for always being too busy for me?”

“Well… That and Chef knows the kinda macros I need to stay healthy - it’s good right?”]

“Phenomenal.”

“Also, Chae… Have we already dropped a promotional video for the Solstice show or am I beginning to lose my mind.”

Chae’s eyes widen and she looks down at her plate.

“Yeah… About that, we’re sorting it out don’t worry about it.”

“But, that was supposed to have been… Today, right?”

“Hun, I sort stuff like that out right - you can trust me.. Right? That’s why you pay me. Don’t. Worry. About. It.”

“If you say so, I just don’t want to give those sad wigs any excuse to strip me of this title.”

“They wouldn’t dare - who’d they give it to?”

“Probably on someone who lost their shot at every other title in this business, to be honest.”

“They really have no respect for you.”

“And that’s fine Chae, they don’t know who I am. But the fact that they have no respect for this title? That’s what gets under my skin.”

“Maybe that’s why they’re going to unify it.”

“Not quite how I expected to claim my second title… But I’m not complaining. The faster the XWF realise they’re a sinking ship with sinking admirals… The faster I’ll be able to patch the leaks.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“This company has 9 titles, one’s even lying vacant. I’d be damned if I could name 9 people, let alone tag-teams that deserve to hold any gold. Titles are meant to mean something, to reveal some standing, some mastery - but they jump from hand to hand, they get handed over to the dirtiest, most un-entertaining mongrels in this business… And we’re meant to flourish? If the creme is sour, the dairy’s gone bad. And the XWF has been… Bad for a while.”

“Not the best PR to call out every champion.”

“Why, cos their fans are going to hate me?”

“Well… Yeah, and they’re not the nicest men and women… What if they come after you?”

“Then I’ll expose how weak they are, it’s pretty simple.”

“What then?”

“Then I’ll train them. Once I humble them, I’ll lift them up, I’ll give them wings to fly on - you know what they say - Gotta break a wall down to built it bigger, re-lay the foundation if you will. There are a few other wrestlers here worth keeping as pillars though… Maybe bring some guys in myself.”

“Zeke? Have you seen him around recently?”

“He’s training, but I’m not exactly sure for what yet… But if I could get him to join me, they wouldn’t know what hit em.”

“The King’s Court. Always been a dream, hm?”

“More than a dream, a destiny. A destiny only a real leader can bring out -“

“A King, I know the cheesy spiel, I was there, remember.”

“Do you think we’re ready?”

“Do I think you’re ready, you mean. I'll be honest, no.”

Isaiah puts his cutlery down, lifting a napkin to dab at the corners of his mouth. He exhales deeply and closes his eyes. That was ice-cold, Chae. Curiously the backing track for your stream switches up at this time. You better be watching this with the musical accompaniment, if it’s on mute… Ugh.

“What else.”

“You haven’t had a single, real fight Isaiah. You’ve been dominant, you’ve been on top, you’ve won - but against who?”

“Spineless cowards.”

"Exactly, hun, a king isn’t made on the severed heads of peasants, it’s made on the heads of challengers to the throne, of royalty.”

“You’re right, of course you are.”

“But soon. They’ve already started to take you seriously right?”

“That they have, the game of patience seems to have worked out. When I found out Ring Master was unable to take his title shot I was certain they’d throw some debutant or make me fight that punk Nickles just to give him another shot at goal after losing his title. I’m glad they gave me real fighters.”

“You know enough about Vayden and Mastermind?”

“Mastermind seems to have kept his toes in the water and his body well trained on Anarchy - a workhorse type that seems to dish out fine matches regularly… Vayden though. It’s been awhile since she’s seen the inside of a XWF ring, young but is no rookie. I’m just glad they gave me people who cared about this business, who have a shred of dignity, who actually want to win… Y’know what I mean?”

“Yeah, they really dealt you a bad hand the last few matches - filler TV.”

“And you’re right, nobody respects a filler champion. Nobody respects the ad-break warrior. You can tell with how they booked the last SAVAGE of the year. Still, my match is third-to-last. On my own damn show, they won’t book me in the main event. I’ve got King plastered on all my merchandise, blasting through the speakers when I come out… Yet - I can hardly call myself one.”

Chae reaches out across the table and wraps her beautifully manicured fingers across Isaiah’s tense arm.

“Good thing it’s Christmas.”

“Hm?”

“The birth of a newborn king.”

Isaiah’s eyes twinkle with an intensity.

“Does that make you my north star? Guiding the masses to my doorstep, guiding them to my birth.”

“That’s right My king . Woo Chaeryoung, Marketing Executive and North Star to the greatest baby king the XWF, no the world, has ever seen.”

“And what kind of songs will they sing for this king?”

“Songs of bloodlust, songs of cheer, songs of victory and songs of fear. They’ll come to your manger in a week’s time, lavish you with gifts and praise - when they see you lying in that trough, covered in the blood and sweat of your opponents for the day.”

“Sounds like my kind of Christmas.”

“You are but an heir, and your throne still awaits you. Each step so far is negligible Isaiah. Each victory forgettable.”

“I need to prove myself.”

"Every hero has his journey, a dragon to slay, a veteran to learn from, a rival to dethrone.”

“You do tell a good story don’t you?”

“Slay one dragon in Mastermind, and give birth to a rival in Geri. The fans will be flocking to you like crazed kids after meth-filled starbursts. A King needs his fables, and this is where you can right them. This is where your legend can be born.”

“This is my show.”

“What more, on the last Savage of the year. On the last Savage of perhaps forever. A Savage Television Champion forces his way into the headlines. Overshadows the main event, humiliates the universal champion - and puts up the single greatest Savage match in all of history.”

“A night to remember.”

“The birth of a newborn king.”

“I've got it.”

“What’s that?”

“The match stipulation - I’m not usually one for shows and flashiness… But the time is as ripe as any. A King’s birth is meant to be grand… And grand it shall be. They took Savage out of the last Savage of the year, so it’s champion will put it back in. Take this down and let Desmond know.”

Chae’s eyes twinkle with a similar mischief, as she whips her phone out. She can’t help but glance at the chef whose still recording this late promo for her in secret.

“A Christmas Spree of Savagery. A ring laden with gifts, of weapons of all sorts. From shepherd staffs with nails hammered in, to Christmas trees made of barbed wire, steel-enforced fairy lights and baubles made of iron. We’ll leave kids scarred for Christmas and adults wanting to crawl back into bed. I’ll reign their blood all over the ring - until one of them screams for me to stop, until one of them screams - “I Give Up.”

“Dark.”

Chaeryong looks at him eyes wide, she’s never quite seen him like this. Isaiah’s eyes are glistening and his knuckles white from how hard he has them squeezed. He’s sick and tired of the matches he’s had to fight, the lack of respect and attention he’s received.

“If they won’t acknowledge me, I’ll just have to make them. I’ll make them bend the knee to me, both Geri and Mastermind - I won’t send one back to retirement, nor the other back to Anarchy. They’ll kneel before me and bring my vision to reality, right here, right on my brand. My Savage.”

“That’s a wrap.”

Isaiah snaps out of his comic villain stupor, and tilts his head quizzically at Chae. Chef Henry takes off the glasses, shifting your view of the scene and places it on the table infront of Chaeryoung. You are welcomed with a close up of Isaiah and Chaeryong.

“Was getting kinda awkward standing there in the corner, Miss.”

“You did wonderfully Chef, thank’s for helping a girl out.”

“What are the two of you on about?”

“So… That promotional video that was due yesterday? Yeah, I kinda fluffed it and got the Corporation to come in clutch.”

“The Corporation?”

“Yeah, you know.. Your people. IKC, the hardworking backstage gang of hooligans.”

“You mean you and that one snivelly cameraman who stalks me everywhere right?”

Chaeryoung furrows her eyebrows, a look of clear confusion on her face as she mimics Isaiah’s head tilt.

“No… I mean the Corporation.”

Isaiah’s gaze flickers to look deep into the lens of the camera-cum-glasses. His eyelids flutter to a close and reopen, head untilting.

“Right, right. The Corporation. Don’t worry about the late video, it happens. Let’s just get back to this lunch in peace shall we?”

“You seem a little odd Iz, maybe we should get you back and in bed - can’t have you off your game before the big title defence.”

“No, no no - don’t worry about it. Chef’s got a great menu prepped for us doesn’t he?”

Isaiah looks off the screen and smiles at presumably the chef.

“Uh… Yeah - Gonna need you to cut a slightly cleaner segment later cos I think we’re only allowed to drop one. Gotta get the King’s followers pumped and paying the big bucks come Saturday.”

“I’ll do it later, please, let’s eat.”

Isaiah reaches out towards the glasses, pointing them down at the table. You hear the clink of cutlery, before the feed cuts to black.

Your screen returns to life in the chilly interior of The King’s Court gymnasium. The ring looks different now, littered with oversized gift boxes, a tree in the corner. A chair in the middle is flanked by three empty ones, forming a little diamond. Isaiah is seated in the middle, in a tanned suit, the tree sparkling behind him.

[shadow=grey]“Hello, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome back to the King’s Court. Your very own, exclusive time with the number one rising star of the XWF. The heir to every throne that exists. The saviour of this corporation. The messiah complex cometh in flesh. The soon-to-be proven cure to mundanity.

I am Isaiah King, and I am the newborn king.

This Christmas ushers in the end to Savage as we know it.

And as your champion, my heart is truly broken at the thought.

No brilliance on my part has been able to keep this ship afloat, the rot runs too deep, the corruption too debilitating.

But as one long, painful, sad chapter comes to a close… A new one is born.

A chapter penned by your king.

A chapter written in blood.

So this Saturday will be both a glorious death and a Savage birth. A funeral and a kings day.

Every hero has his journey - as Geri Vayden and Mastermind get to be mine.

Two souls put on the chopping block. Two sheep, led to slaughter.

Geri, a young, warm-blooded wife, mother, fighter. Someone who represents the present age and the future of this business. A fighter who I’ll conquer now and probably again and against for years to come. She will cement my place as the lifeblood of this business, as the future to stake careers on.

I welcome her into my kingdom warmly, as she seeks to return to our borders. I welcome here to bring her freshness to my locker room. I welcome her to show me what she’s made of, to earn a place in my round table. My kingdom needs its knights.

And you, Mastermind.

A name for a villain if there ever was one. An old, gristled veteran who has made his name and his mark on XWF history. History.

There’s no doubt that you’re equally deserving of a shot at this belt. Few remaining have achieved more and more consistently than you have, and I look forward to sharing the ring with you.

I look forward to reinvigorating you, and lifting you up from the sewage of mediocrity you’ve had to wade in all these years. You witnessed the glory days of true legends and yet stuck around when they all deserted you. You have had to tread water, barely keeping your chin up as week after week you’ve had to face men and women half as talented, half as driven as you.

Take my hand, feel my pain, suffer under my boot and be reborn - motivated to keep swimming.

It’s time I had help to save this place. And you two… You two show promise. The Kings Court is always recruiting men and women from all the land, men and women worth their weight in gold. Show me what you’re worth, bleed for me. Bleed for your King.”

Black.