Post by alhaq on Jan 26, 2021 22:53:34 GMT
“I guess it was a surprise to everyone, even you.”
The gruff, gravelly voice that was unmistakable as the F2B Black Out Champion spoke from the darkness.
We fade in, and see the champion leaning back in a lawn chair, cigarette pursed between his lips, and a hand of cards in his thick, blackened fingers.
On the table in front of him is a cell phone, facing upwards, with the iOS interface letting us know that the champion is on a phonecall. Next to the telephone are some upturned cards, a mug of coffee, and an oversized ashtray.
“Dawson just said come help us fill the numbers,” the champion continued, “but fuck it, you know? Saw that serpent resurfaced, it split open my soul, awoke the beast. Wouldn’t sit idly by and watch him take control.”
On the end of the line, there was quiet mumbling, but as the person on the end of it was about to start speaking, the champion continued to talk.
“So when I felt that familiar feeling build up inside my chest, that adrenaline coursing through me, I knew it was over for all of them fools. Every last one of them that ever thought about being something, ever thought about selling their snake oil at the expense of the rest of us, I knew I had to draw a line in the sand.”
A momentary pause, but not long enough for the second participant in the conversation to join in. The champion smirked, as he cut the other person off right as the sound came through the speaker of the iPhone.
“I’m not here to take part, I’m here to take over.”
He pushed all four corners of the lawn chair down to the gravelled floor, and his light brown construction boots crunched into the stones as he rose from the chair. He picked up the iPhone and held it at a 45 degree angle away from his face.
“It’s certainly true that over the course of the past month, the man you refer to, Brandon Moore has been trying to make your life difficult.” A crackled voice came from the other end. “He interrupted your match against Jackson Monroe, you repaid the favour in his match against Amari Kent, it looks like you’re both going full throttle for each other.”
“It’s true. He hasn’t ever been accused of being a smart man, he already got an ass kicking along with the rest of the field at Thankless Intent, I don’t know why he keeps asking for more.” Malk al-Haq spat after extinguishing his cigarette into the floor.
“Where does this lead?” came the voice again, at the end of the telephone.
“Nowhere good.” He responded immediately without deep introspective thought. It was simply a fact.
An awkward pause, as the person on the line uneasily shifts trying to pivot the discussion.
“This week, do you expect a repeat of his behaviour as you’re scheduled to take on Austin Ramsey?”
“It doesn’t end well for him, if he does.” He chuckled, still walking in circles around the card table. The man sat opposite where Malk Al-Haq was sitting, his opponent in this game of cards, is a slight man, with a shaved head and a wispy grey goatee. He isn’t looking at the champion, and is in fact staring at his cards, tilting them downwards each time Malk Al-Haq starts to round the perimeter toward him.
“If he thinks he is going to jump me from behind again, if he thinks he is going to catch me by surprise again, he’s more stupid than I had him pegged for. And I got him pegged worse than his wife does.”
“Austin Ramsey has been on social media, quite vocally this week, talking about his place in the industry, where he sees himself. He claims that he’s going to prevent you from competing past this upcoming match at Grudgematch, and he will also put a pin in Brandon Moore’s progress through the organisation. He referred to you as a senior citizen, to Moore as lazy. What are your thoughts?”
“It doesn’t end well for him.” He smirks, repeating the answer.
“Do you have a message for him?” The other end of the phone presses for more.
“Tell him - ‘the more you talk, the worse it will be for you’.”
“Thank you, F2B Black Out Champion, ‘The Angel of Truth’ Malk al-Haq! This is Joe Brighton for FIGHT Magazine.”
And then suddenly the line went dead. Malk al-Haq shrugged his shoulders, and then as his feet crunched the ground, he placed the phone back down on the table, face down. He picked the lawn chair up, spinning it around and then straddled it, facing his opponent. He smirked, and laid down a pair of cards, face up.
“Fuck.” His opponent emitted as he just fed him a shit-eating grin.
“Come for the king, you best not miss.” Malk al-Haq stood up, and walked away from the old man, laughing audibly.
The Angel of Truth
Here’s the thing. Everybody thinks they’re something. Everyone. You require a certain level of ego, or self-confidence if you wish, to do what we do, right? So its expected that everybody thinks they have got what it takes. It doesn’t offend me when I hear stories of people who think they’re as good or better than me. I was once one of those guys, I wanted anyone who’d listen to me, anyone who would give me a platform to speak, to hear about how I was better than Lincoln Gray or Jerome Jordan. Or Manhunt, or Galen, or... you name it.
But in time, you realise that the sound of your own voice is boring. Is irrelevant. It doesn’t matter what you say, it doesn’t matter who you say it to. It only matters whether you can back it up. Only matters what you do when face to face with the consequences of your words.
I’m no connoisseur of social media. Might say I’m too old, whatever. Make your jokes. But I get told what goes on, I get passed the relevant information. I can see what Austin Ramsey thinks, and I hope he is prepared for the blowback. Because, as I said, I don’t take offense to it. But it is my duty to put him back where he belongs.
I’m not going to let him jump the queue because the snappy mutt barks loudly.
Old, I might be, but I proved that I’m no walkover. You shared the squared circle with me on that very night when I laid waste to the entirety of F2B’s roster. When I shocked the world, when an old hasbeen dug deeper than anyone else could.
What makes you think anything’s changed for Grudgematch, Austin?
You spent a month on life support and all of a sudden you learned to fight? That’s not the case, is it? We all know it.
But maybe, just maybe, if you say the lie loud enough and to enough people, and repeat it enough times, you just might start believing it, right? So is that it?
You’re trying to convince yourself that you’re the one that can disrupt the newly established status quo here in F2B? What stopped you last time? You speak, constantly, about your spirit, your never-say-die attitude, but yet, we never see it. Or maybe I just hold standards that are too high for other people to attain, I’m not sure.
One thing I do know, now that the media counsel at F2B has shown me the posts on Twitter, is that even if Brandon Moore does decide to involve himself in business that is not his own, I have a feeling it won’t be me in the crosshairs. He really doesn’t like Austin’s lack of respect either. It will be a shame, though, if Brandon lays into the poor child. If I’m making the effort to get in the ring, I’d rather be challenged, I’d rather get the blood going - mine and others’ - and really make an evening of it. I doubt that either of you can pose a significant threat on your own, but I would welcome you both to see if you can work cohesively to take me out. Maybe bring the Bastards, and the whore too. Have a party. Bring some iodine and stitches because you’ll need it when I’m through with you.
Its not personal, though, I know that. No, sometimes its just a matter of a faltering step, where you think one way and the piece falls another. I’m sure there’s a level of respect there from Austin’s side to the man that stands atop the rest in F2B, but he’s so caught up trying to find his lot in life that people are getting caught in the crossfire. Its to be expected, of course it is. Like I said, I don’t take offense to the slight, to the perceived lack of respect. I made him respect me once before, and he will be made to respect me again.
No matter the cost.
And make no mistake, I’m not mad about the stance he’s taking on social media in trying to gain clout, but I’m not going to let it slide either. Ask the rest of them what it is like when I show them just how much their big fucking mouths cost them.