[BBvideo=560,315]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5TxdjjNnLTo[/BBvideo]
After the show was finished, an ominous voice began to echo throughout the arena. Breaking an awkward, habitual silence. The grotesque man began to walk down to the ring, limping during the entirety. Wearing his typical outfit, black khaki's, a battered and torn white dress shirt, the specialty black tie mangled, hanging on by a thread. He already had a microphone within his grasp.
Mauro Ranallo: It's been a couple weeks since we've seen Mankind, Corey. It looks like he's walking down to the ring with vengeance.
Corey Graves: You're not kidding there, he's always had this menacing demeanor about him, looks like he hasn't showered in months.
Walking up into the ring, the lighting in the arena had returned to normal, being darkened during his walkdown. Moving the microphone to his lips, his breathing being heavy as normal, the wheezing would be abnormal to anyone else, Mankind being an exception.
Mankind: Ladies and gentlemen, I am not just a man. King of The Ring is supposed to be this special occasion, where one man is declared to be the king after decimating through all his opponents. When I go through this tournament, I will not want to be known as competing for king. Who am I to call myself King? I've been a pauper my whole life. Do you see my face? There's no one out there that would let me borrow some sugar, nonetheless hold any type of power. People get uneasy just looking at me, do you think I asked for this? Do you think I asked to have multiple surgeries on my back, neck, to please people like you?
Mauro Ranallo: Some tense words from Mankind there, I don't think the people at home are going to appreciate that.
Corey Graves: Why wouldn't they? He's telling it like he is, rightfully so. The man is fed up with all of the abuse, frustration. He's been down one hell of a road that I couldn't even begin to imagine.
Running his hands through his long, dark hair before screaming into the microphone.
Mankind: I didn't mean for any of this to happen, I was a good boy. I never did anything wrong, I kept my head down, why did I get made with these scars? God was supposed to create us perfectly, imperfect. In his image, why would a God look so miserable? If there was one out there at some point, why did he create someone so worthless? Someone so far gone that he has to look up just to see down. I didn't think there was any point in carrying on for the longest time, there's a new-found desire in my heart. I'm going to be the greatest there is, it doesn't matter what I have to do. This tournament is just the beginning of my future success story. I hope you're all paying attention, I'm going to do whatever it takes to rise to the to the top. I'm tired of burrowing in the ground, keeping my head down as if I'm just a nobody. I am something, I'm an unstoppable force, an immovable object, I'm your worst nightmare. I'm the man that people are afraid of in the night, the one's they fear in their dreams. I am, who I am.
Dropping the microphone suddenly, Mankind got out of the ring and limped his way to the back, the significantly more peaceful part of his theme playing, soothing piano.
King.
Re: King.
Sorry I forgot it Jessy! Thanks for posting.
Writers aren't exactly people. They're a whole bunch of people. Trying to be one person.
The only living, breathing, Queen of Efeds in captivity
"You can't blame a writer for what the characters say." - Truman Capote