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Prince Adeyemi · (09-14-2022)

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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.

No, I’m serious, play the song.

“The Kingdom is at hand.”
Your screen flickers once, twice, before correcting itself to the dim lighting of the dated tavern-esque bar you find yourself in. The music of a lute, the singing of a fair maiden, all smashed together with the ruckus cursing of a drunk New Yorker who refused to play his role. The bar is littered with older gentlemen, probably all some awkward mix of Irish, Scottish and Italian white men. The lighting was amber, and the crackling of a fire made sense of the shifting shadows you see. A tavern like in any fantasy roleplaying game, except of course with the loving hospitality of New York.

Ya, fuck right outta here Phil, you’ve had one too many and ya know it.

Cue the… bar lady. She’s black, big and beautiful… In the motherly kind of way. She has on a flowing white dress, loose and swishing about as she walks. She has the rowdy gentleman (cut me some slack, I’m trying to stick with the lingo), by the tail of his untucked, beer-stained J Crew tee.

One too many if I was a 5”3 little girl, I’m a grown ass man and you aren’t gonna tell me when I’ve had too much woman!

The man flails his arms about, fist still wrapped around his now warm mug of beer. The liquid swishes and sloshes, over the back of undeserving customers and him alike.
Philip King if I don’t see your drunk ass out of my bar in the next 10 seconds you can bet I’ll never serve ya a pint of beer again.

But Dorothy its our b—

OUT!

Cmon’ hun, it’s his big d-

I said OUT! And before I kick you outta the bedroom too.

A rowdy oooooooh emanates from the patrons who heard that one, followed by a laughter at Phil’s expense. A few of the guys, regulars by their laughter and familiarity with Dorothy and Philip place a gentle hand on Philip’s back while one picks the mug out of his hands. One of the men, an old man - somewhere in his 70s, or 50s if he was also a meth-head - looks over his shoulders and yells out.

Zaiah! It’s time fer’ ya dad to go! Your mother ain’t looking too happy boy.

The camera follows the man’s gaze, landing on the fine, the perfect, the drool-worthy image of an Isaiah King, seated on a couch surrounded by a younger group of patrons. Their laughter and banter seems to only increase as they hear the man calling out to Isaiah. Isaiah glances towards the man, a cheeky smile on his face.

Gotcha Charlie, be gentle, he means well, he wouldn’t shut up about that bruised ass all of last week.

Dorothy walks up behind Isaiah, giving him a playfully loving rap on the skull before swapping his pint of beer with a full glass of green liquid beside him. King’s nose scrunches up and his lips drop into a grimace.

Ma’ what the hell is this?

A friend of his gives the glass a sniff and winces.

Smells like shit, sprinkled with some celery or summin’

Dorothy places a hand on her hip and shoots Isaiah a pointed glare.

My boy has a fight coming’ up and I’d be damned if he lost cos he’d been drinking like a frat boy the night before. You come home with one bruise on that pretty face and I’ll kill ya.

Isaiah rolls his eyes at her in defiance, but his beautiful hands grip the glass of green juice. With one big gulp, he chugs it down and let’s out an overtly satisfied aaahhhhh.

Nobody makes gruel like me mama does.

King’s horribly attempt at a cajun accent earns him a few chuckles and a return roll of the eyes from his mother.

The girl who’d commented on the juice earlier reaches over and slides an arm across Isaiah’s chest.

Yo’ mother’s right hun, I think it’s time we head home and get some sleep for tomorrow.

Isaiah slides his own hand over hers, giving her an assuring squeeze.

Ah, but our guests have just arrived.

He points towards the camera and straightens his back to get comfortable.

Goooooood Eveeeening XWF. What do they call ya’ll around here? A universe? A Fandom? A multiverse? I’m sure it doesn’t matter because soon they’ll be calling you fans. Fans of the king. Members of my budding kingdom if you’d like.

You see, this Wednesday Night Warfare is going to be your first taste of a whole new era, a fresh new flavour, a brand new empire. An empire led by me.

And I’m sure you’ve heard it all before, you’ve heard the rants of princes, of kings, of grand poobobs or something… Even a king of kings. There seems to always be another guy, wearing some other crown, trying to claim this place as his own. Yet… It doesn’t quite seem like any of them make it to the top, none of them has ever truly been king.

And we’ve had a whole run of beautiful champions here at the XWF, I’ve dabbled in the archives a little, gotten a taste of what it takes to be great. That is what I’m promising you. I’m promising you greatness, not today, not tomorrow… but one day. One day soon.

And tomorrow is the first step towards a glorious kingdom.

Tomorrow is the first step towards a new kingdom.

Tomorrow is the first step towards my crowning.

How lucky?

How lucky are each and every one of you to witness it?

How lucky are you, Finn, who get to be my stepping stone towards it?

An opponent to highlight the strengths and weaknesses of the XWF. You’re the perfect choice - someone who has been here long enough, who has fallen from seeming glory but still holds firmly to the ethos of this place. I’m a rookie building up his record, a rookie working his way to his crown. You are a notch in that title belt, a firm foundation upon which my kingdom is built.

I promise no glorious kingdom. I promise no glorious conquering… Yet.

The kingdom of Isaiah is at hand.

Isaiah grins wide, tapping the side of his head as he looks straight into the camera.

Just look around me brother. This bar is my home. Harlem is my home.

White man, old man, young brother, drunk sister - They all look to me as their star.

Mother, Father - they celebrate like I’ve already won.

Because though I have not a crown, I’m an heir whose reign is just a matter of time.

In that ring tomorrow, when the bell rings and the fans prepare to be warmed up for the main event, you can guarantee that what I’ll give them is a show to remember.

I’ll win their hearts like I’ve won those here.

I’ll win your heart even as I shatter your crown.

By the time the referee counts to three, you’ll all be wishing I was your champion. By the time the show comes to a close, you’ll be begging me to be your King.

But not yet.

Baby steps.

One fight at a time.

My kingdom is at hand. Not yet, but guaranteed.

Kingdoms rise and kingdoms fall.
You- a cracked crown, a broken frown.
Claw up, back to glory.
Claw up, another round.
You- refuse to die, to give up your throne.
Though all you’ve built and gained, away you'vethrown.
For what?
There is not reason.
For what?
There is no excuse.
Except that your time has come.
Except that your throne is mine.
I’ll take Finn’s,
Then I’ll take another.
I’ll take wins,
I’ll taker the other brother.
Step by step
My kingdom is built.
Brick my brick.
As your empire wilts.
That’s just the way it goes.
Old gone, a new foe.
Don’t despair my dear friend.
When the bell goes,
It’ll all make sense.
You’ll see my way is better.
You’ll see my kingdoms joy.
You’ll see I’ll make you stronger.
You’ll see, at my feet you’ll grow.
My kingdom is at hand.
At the precipice of establishment.
The Heir Cometh hails the band

There's a soldier coming, to take away your crown.
There's a power coming, whose sword is his rhyme.
There's a king coming, whose time is now.

Branches out, Hosanna sang.

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