Post by Cassius on Feb 22, 2017 20:33:09 GMT
GRAYSON UNDERWOOD: “You’re leaving your legs open, still.”
The young MMA fighter, Grayson Underwood, adjusts the punch pads on his arms, stretching out the muscles in his back as he does so. He stands in a ring in THRONE MMA’s Las Vegas facility, the team’s logo omnipresent on everything from the wall hangings and branded training equipment to the royal purple sweatsuit he wears He looks up to a clock hung on the wall, with a half smile on his face.
GRAYSON UNDERWOOD: “Come on. We’ve been working pretty hard. Break time.”
The man he’s addressing stands opposite him. Compared to the relatively fresh looking Grayson, he’s a mess: his gray sweatshirt painted dark with sweat, arms hanging low and heavy, almost as if the padded mitts on his hands are made of lead. Slowly he raises his hooded head, ebony skin shimmering with perspiration as he looks to his trainer. Cassius Reed’s breathing is heavy but not labored, a byproduct of great effort more than poor conditioning.
CASSIUS REED: “I can go another.”
Slowly he adopts his stance; southpaw, as always, weight heavy on the back foot, shoulders loose. With a shrug, Grayson chuckles.
GRAYSON UNDERWOOD: “Fine. One more. But you’re buying lunch.”
He tightens the pads on his arms as Cassius nods, quickly closing the space between them. He lashes out rapid shots at pads, bobbing and weaving to match the patterns Grayson throws. As Grayson varies the range, Cassius faultlessly switches from punch to elbow, and back again, a perfect blow selected and deployed for every movement of the pads. Suddenly, Grayson unleashes a low push kick to Cassius’ back shin, the sole of his foot landing flush the the shin guard, but carrying enough force to knock the leg back, forcing Cassius to transfer his weight onto his leading leg and wheel round, wasting time and position correcting his balance. As he comes up looking to swing for the pads, Grayson has already stepped back, dropping the pads off his arms/
GRAYSON UNDERWOOD: “I told you, Cass. You’re leaving your legs wide open. You’ve got to break that boxer’s mindset.”
CASSIUS REED: “Again.”
GRAYSON UNDERWOOD: “Look, dedication is good, OK? I’m not saying you’ve not got drive. But you need a break. You need to realise there’s a time to not fight too, OK?”
?: “Nigga ain’t ever learned that, likely never will.”
Both men spin in the direction of the new voice, Cassius a little less promptly. Leaning on the apron is a tall, bald, black man, broad shoulders filling out his black shirt well, clerical collar proudly on show about his neck. Reverend Lucius Reed looks at the pair with an analytical, appraising gaze.
GRAYSON UNDERWOOD: “Uh, you are…?”
CASSIUS REED: “S’OK… he’s my cousin. Lucius, what…”
LUCIUS REED: “Did you forget everything me and your brother taught you?”
Cassius looks over to Grayson, half shrugging in some form of apology.
CASSIUS REED: “Gray, you’re right. Continue this after lunch?”
He looks between the two Reeds, and shrugs.
GRAYSON UNDERWOOD: “Sure. You can buy dinner later instead.”
Cassius nods, the pair bumping fists before Gray steps out of the ring, offering Lucius one last quizzical look before heading out the back. Cassius begins slowly removing his gloves, flexing his fingers as they regain full movement. As he begins to remove the wraps on his hands, he addresses Lucius over his shoulder.
CASSIUS REED: “You’re a long way from your congregation.”
Lucius shrugs.
LUCIUS REED: “Even priests get vacation, Cass.”
As Cassius peels the last remnants of the wraps from his skin, he nods. They share an awkward, uneasy silence, lasting a good few minutes.
CASSIUS REED: “Why you here? I figured…”
The pause is pregnant. It says everything that needs to be said, perhaps more. Lucius lets the barest hint of a smile play over his lips.
LUCIUS REED: “I’m a Reed, Cass. Since when have any of us done what someone expected?”
This gets a half-smile from the visibly tired Cassius, as he drops the hood from his head. He release his hair from it’s hairband, shaking out his mighty afro. Slowly he drops out of the ring, and after a tense few moments, face to face, they break a quick bro hug, the cousins patting each other firmly on the back.
The camera fades up in the heart of THRONE MMA’s Las Vegas facility. Around the edges of shot training equipment sits, bathed in shadow. In the centre of the room stands a podium, much like the type used at an MMA press conference. Behind it sit two chairs. Well… chair is a loose description for one of them. Grand, and ostentatious, it would more accurately be described as a throne, plush purple cushioning forming the seat and back, whilst the frame, although ornate, seems to be of dull metal. The other chair is far more basic, a plain wooden affair. Smaller than its ornate companion, it is also occupied. Seated in it is Cassius Reed, chin resting on his knuckles as he looks at the podium, a quiet intensity radiating from him. Slowly, he stands, the royal purple THRONE MMA tee he’s wearing becoming fully visible for the first time. He approaches the podium, a slight swagger to his step, before stepping behind it, and staring out at the camera.
CASSIUS REED: “Ladies and Gentlemen… thank you for joining Cassius this evening. Cassius stands on the edge of… something. Something huge. Cassius has won titles. Cassius has won tournaments. But never before has Cassius been tested like he has in the Iron King Tournament. Street Fights, special rules, Pankration, and now MMA, Cassius has been forced outside of his comfort zone, forced to prove himself in ways he never considered he would have to… or even could.”
He pauses a moment, looking about the room, before turning back to the camera.
CASSIUS REED: Each time a new match type was announced, Cassius felt that challenge. With each new opponent, he was tested. Former World Champions. Legendary figures. Cassius ain’t about to say it was easy… some of the hardest fights Cassius have ever fought, in fact. But there’s an old saying… taught to me by my cousin: As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another. Cassius sees the point of these tests. They ain’t just an arbitrary set of random matches to make life difficult. They’re designed to take us, strengthen us, and reforge us into something else.
A smile.
CASSIUS REED: “The Iron King.”
Cassius leans into the podium’s microphone.
CASSIUS REED: “And it ain’t like Cassius ain’t made the hop from another sport before. Most you probably know, but Cassius was a boxer before he was a wrestler. Took Cassius from Atlanta to the Olympic selection committee for 2012… Cassius trained hard for that shot… but fell short at the final hurdle. It was the hardest defeat Cassius had ever had… still is. But everything Cassius has done since that day… moving to Canada to retrain, working bars throughout Toronto to pay for it… to getting his first gig down in Toronto… to his first championship, and then his second, and then the Passion of the Juniors Cup… everything Cassius has done in this business has been spurred by that day. He will not experience that sensation again. And yeah, Cassius has lost matches. Lost championships. Exited tournaments. But there’s never been anything he wanted as much as he wanted that day.”
Serious look.
CASSIUS REED: “Until now.”
Cassius gestures about him, at his surroundings.
CASSIUS REED: “When MMA was announced for the semis and the finals, Cassius got straight to work. Limited time to train in an entirely new discipline. Yeah, sure, he’s got that boxing experience, but that’s only a part of the package. This ain’t boxing. So that’s why Cassius came to THRONE, to train under the team of Marissa Kane herself. You may have heard of her. Former MLC World Champion. Former WFC Bantamweight Champion. 17 lifetime wins, 12 by knockout. 3 losses, all by decision. And as soon as Cassius decided he was going to be the next Iron King? Where else could he train other than with the Murder Queen’s people?”
He leans into the podium, heavily resting on it.
CASSIUS REED: “It ain’t been easy. Taking everything you know about fighting, and having to do it all differently… it’s taxing on the mind, on the body, on the soul… but you people out there, you trust Cassius when he says this: he’d pay that price thrice over, for this opportunity. To stand up there, and be recognised alongside the likes of TJ, Jagi and Gryphon…”
He looks down a moment, before bringing his gaze back up and into the lens of the camera.
CASSIUS REED: “And Cassius ain’t about to let anyone just stand up and block his path. He didn’t let Chino, Jones or the Devil himself Lasiewicz block his way, and he ain’t about to step aside for Bailey Kaitlin Huff.”
A quick flash of the smile.
CASSIUS REED: “Now, Cassius ain’t about to wave over everything this girl’s achieved. He’s seen her trainers reports slide over his desk at HKW HQ. Hell, she’s outlasted 2 out of 3 of those same trainers, she’s overcome massive odds in every round so far to reach the semis, and she AIN’T EVEN BEEN ON TV FOR RISE YET. That’s the bit Cassius can’t get his head around. Cassius has got to wonder why they hiding her away from the public when she can fight like this.”
Head tilt.
CASSIUS REED: “You see, this is a key issue. One which Cassius has to acknowledge so he don’t fall victim to the same trap. The others, they all made the mistake of underestimating her. They all saw some girl from developmental that hadn’t even hit TV yet. Not Cassius though, oh no. Cassius sees through the lies, through the subterfuge, to what is, when you consider all the facts, the truth about BKH.”
A light, almost dismissive shrug of the shoulders, as if implying what he’s about to say is no big deal.
CASSIUS REED: “She’s a wrestling machine sent back in time from a dystopian future to Piledrive Sarah Connor.”
Cassius leans in close, over the podium.
CASSIUS REED: “AND CASSIUS DIDN’T OVERCOME THE DEVIL TO FALL TO THE FUNKIN’ TERMINATOR!”
Cassius stands back up once more.
CASSIUS REED: “Who’s got the advantage here? It’s hard to say. On one side of the ring, you got the funkiest boxer to ever step outta Georgia. On the other, an inhuman killing machine programmed only to choke a sucka out. OH AND IT’S MMA SO THAT’S FAIR.”
He starts shaking his head.
CASSIUS REED: “Cassius has been working his fingers to the bone these past few weeks preparing for this. He ain’t going to be caught off-guard. He ain’t going to underestimate the girl. He’s coming out swinging, every last gun blazing. The road to being the Iron King only has a few steps left, and Cassius ain’t about to stumble now.”
Another little smile.
CASSIUS REED: “Because you see, once Cassius steps past Bailey… not if, when... then Cassius got one of two people in front of him… and all of a sudden two prizes on the line. Cassius gonna talk on that in a minute. But first, let’s check out these other two.”
He holds a single finger up.
CASSIUS REED: “One: Ana Starling. She the niece of the Devil, so Cassius guesses like Damien but with pig tails and trying to stick you in a dress. Cassius knows her from way back. San Diego way back. And he ain’t about to deny that she ain’t come a long way since she could barely get between the ropes wit’out flippin’ ass over tit and faceplantin’ the mat. She’s the Rising Phoenix champ for a reason, you know? And Cassius is more than willing to believe it’s at least in part due to that devil blood running hot through her veins.”
He shrugs.
CASSIUS REED: “Plenty of people, like they do Bailey, underestimate her. That fool CruZe did, and he’s dealin’ wit’ the fallout of that now. She’s got that whole circus girl schtick. She talks funny… and we all know Cassius ain’t in no position to talk about that… so people think she’s slow, or whatever. But Cassius sees different. Cassius knows different. Cassius has seen the devil in her eyes. When she fought GRENDEL. When she fought CruZe last. When she fought Jackson. He’s seen her uncle in her… but she ain’t her uncle. And Cassius is in as good a position as any to know the differences, and similarities, in family.”
Another shrug.
CASSIUS REED: “Plus Cassius now gets a really good rate on bulk Holy Water.”
His had goes up once more.
CASSIUS REED: “Two: Aurora. Now Cassius don’t know Rori so well, outside of her teaching down at RISE, but it ain’t every girl you meet who’ll let you stash a set of brass knucks down her titties Cassius’ll tell you that for free.”
He gestures at his chest for a moment, giving the universal hand movements for “boobs”, whilst mouthing “have you seen them…” before realising what he’s doing, and stopping, politely coughing.
CASSIUS REED: “And damn if that girl ain’t got more balls than the majority of the men who entered this thing by putting that belt on the line in each and every match. There’s a reason why she’s the face of this company, and why she’s one of the only two employees still in this thing. She’s smart. She’s talented. She’s smokin’. Damn if Cassius ain’t ever seen someone so sexy whilst giving a DDT that there be suckas queueing up round the block to take one off of her. She’s got the fans behind her, the home ground advantage, and when Cassius checked she was topping the odds back in Vegas. There’s only one thing she ain’t.”
And there, like a light flashing to life at the flick of a switch, comes Cassius’ trademark megawatt grin.
CASSIUS REED: “She ain’t Cassius Reed. None of these ladies are. They all got the opportunity to make history. To be the very first Iron Queen. That incentive, you know, is going to push each and everyone of these women to push harder, perhaps harder than they ever have. To become champion. To become Queen. To make history!
Cassius draws quiet, as the camera zooms in on him a little.
CASSIUS REED: “Cassius though? He only got one goal. Not three. One. He ain’t here to make history. This ain’t about the Rebirth championship. It never was. This? This is about that.”
Cassius points off behind him, to the throne that’s been sat in the background since the video began.
CASSIUS REED: “Cassius did not come to Phoenix to be your champion. You got champions. You got good ones. Likewise, Cassius did not come to Phoenix to make your history. You got history, long and storied, legends have sweat, bled, and seen their careers live and die on your mats. No… Cassius did not come for that. Cassius came here with one purpose in mind… One purpose that has seen him through it all… to here.”
Extreme close-up, locked only on Cassius’ face.
CASSIUS REED: “To be your king.”
As the camera zooms out, it pans slightly, following Cassius as he steps away from the podium, and approaches the throne. Slowly. Reverently. As he reaches it, he turns, placing both hands firmly on the armrests, hovering on the edge of the seat.
CASSIUS REED: “So on Sunday night, when Cassius’ hand has been raised as champion, and he settles his sweet chocolate keister into that ferrous throne, proudly dons that crown of iron, and then looks down upon you all as both your Iron King and Rebirth Champion, you know what he’ll say? When his faithful subjects gather to catch the syllables of his first utterances, do you know what they’ll be?”
As he finally rests himself down on the throne, a giant smile washes across his face, and the camera comes up into extreme close-up one more.
CASSIUS REED: “You’re welcome.”
Blackout.
GRAYSON UNDERWOOD: “What did I say about...”
As Grayson steps in, going for Cassius’ shin, Reed skips back onto his rear leg, almost adopting crane stance a moment, before kicking the leading leg backwards, following Grayson’s kick, using that momentum to launch a Superman Punch solidly into one of the pads, Gray’s arm swinging back from the force. Lucius, leaning on the apron, can't resist a celebratory fist pump. Grayson looks at his arm, impressed look on his face, as Cassius stands, breathing heavily.
GRAYSON UNDERWOOD: “Better.”
Grayson gestures for Cassius to go again, but a cough from ringside arrests the thought. The group look to ringside, and the woman there. Tall, with long purple hair hanging over her shoulder and a quiet aura of power, Marissa Kane applauds the effort in the ring.
MARISSA KANE: “Not bad, rookie. How’s he doing Gray?”
Grayson smiles.
GRAYSON UNDERWOOD: “Definitely improving.”
MARISSA KANE: “Good. Would hate for this stuff to have been a waste.”
Hauling herself onto the apron, Marissa slips through the ropes, duffel bag over her shoulder. Walking over to the pair, she opens the bag, taking the top item out, before dropping the bag at Cassius’ feet. She hands the item over to him, a royal purple bundle of fabric which, as he unfolds it, reveals itself to be a pair of ring shorts, complete with the THRONE MMA branding.
MARISSA KANE: “Welcome to the team.”
Grayson and Lucius both applaud, as Cassius just continues to turn the lycra over in his hands, before embracing Marissa in a huge hug. She kind of awkwardly flaps a moment, before giving him a bro hug slap on the back in return, rolling her eyes.
The young MMA fighter, Grayson Underwood, adjusts the punch pads on his arms, stretching out the muscles in his back as he does so. He stands in a ring in THRONE MMA’s Las Vegas facility, the team’s logo omnipresent on everything from the wall hangings and branded training equipment to the royal purple sweatsuit he wears He looks up to a clock hung on the wall, with a half smile on his face.
GRAYSON UNDERWOOD: “Come on. We’ve been working pretty hard. Break time.”
The man he’s addressing stands opposite him. Compared to the relatively fresh looking Grayson, he’s a mess: his gray sweatshirt painted dark with sweat, arms hanging low and heavy, almost as if the padded mitts on his hands are made of lead. Slowly he raises his hooded head, ebony skin shimmering with perspiration as he looks to his trainer. Cassius Reed’s breathing is heavy but not labored, a byproduct of great effort more than poor conditioning.
CASSIUS REED: “I can go another.”
Slowly he adopts his stance; southpaw, as always, weight heavy on the back foot, shoulders loose. With a shrug, Grayson chuckles.
GRAYSON UNDERWOOD: “Fine. One more. But you’re buying lunch.”
He tightens the pads on his arms as Cassius nods, quickly closing the space between them. He lashes out rapid shots at pads, bobbing and weaving to match the patterns Grayson throws. As Grayson varies the range, Cassius faultlessly switches from punch to elbow, and back again, a perfect blow selected and deployed for every movement of the pads. Suddenly, Grayson unleashes a low push kick to Cassius’ back shin, the sole of his foot landing flush the the shin guard, but carrying enough force to knock the leg back, forcing Cassius to transfer his weight onto his leading leg and wheel round, wasting time and position correcting his balance. As he comes up looking to swing for the pads, Grayson has already stepped back, dropping the pads off his arms/
GRAYSON UNDERWOOD: “I told you, Cass. You’re leaving your legs wide open. You’ve got to break that boxer’s mindset.”
CASSIUS REED: “Again.”
GRAYSON UNDERWOOD: “Look, dedication is good, OK? I’m not saying you’ve not got drive. But you need a break. You need to realise there’s a time to not fight too, OK?”
?: “Nigga ain’t ever learned that, likely never will.”Both men spin in the direction of the new voice, Cassius a little less promptly. Leaning on the apron is a tall, bald, black man, broad shoulders filling out his black shirt well, clerical collar proudly on show about his neck. Reverend Lucius Reed looks at the pair with an analytical, appraising gaze.
GRAYSON UNDERWOOD: “Uh, you are…?”
CASSIUS REED: “S’OK… he’s my cousin. Lucius, what…”
LUCIUS REED: “Did you forget everything me and your brother taught you?”
Cassius looks over to Grayson, half shrugging in some form of apology.
CASSIUS REED: “Gray, you’re right. Continue this after lunch?”
He looks between the two Reeds, and shrugs.
GRAYSON UNDERWOOD: “Sure. You can buy dinner later instead.”
Cassius nods, the pair bumping fists before Gray steps out of the ring, offering Lucius one last quizzical look before heading out the back. Cassius begins slowly removing his gloves, flexing his fingers as they regain full movement. As he begins to remove the wraps on his hands, he addresses Lucius over his shoulder.
CASSIUS REED: “You’re a long way from your congregation.”
Lucius shrugs.
LUCIUS REED: “Even priests get vacation, Cass.”
As Cassius peels the last remnants of the wraps from his skin, he nods. They share an awkward, uneasy silence, lasting a good few minutes.
CASSIUS REED: “Why you here? I figured…”
The pause is pregnant. It says everything that needs to be said, perhaps more. Lucius lets the barest hint of a smile play over his lips.
LUCIUS REED: “I’m a Reed, Cass. Since when have any of us done what someone expected?”
This gets a half-smile from the visibly tired Cassius, as he drops the hood from his head. He release his hair from it’s hairband, shaking out his mighty afro. Slowly he drops out of the ring, and after a tense few moments, face to face, they break a quick bro hug, the cousins patting each other firmly on the back.
-----
The camera fades up in the heart of THRONE MMA’s Las Vegas facility. Around the edges of shot training equipment sits, bathed in shadow. In the centre of the room stands a podium, much like the type used at an MMA press conference. Behind it sit two chairs. Well… chair is a loose description for one of them. Grand, and ostentatious, it would more accurately be described as a throne, plush purple cushioning forming the seat and back, whilst the frame, although ornate, seems to be of dull metal. The other chair is far more basic, a plain wooden affair. Smaller than its ornate companion, it is also occupied. Seated in it is Cassius Reed, chin resting on his knuckles as he looks at the podium, a quiet intensity radiating from him. Slowly, he stands, the royal purple THRONE MMA tee he’s wearing becoming fully visible for the first time. He approaches the podium, a slight swagger to his step, before stepping behind it, and staring out at the camera.
CASSIUS REED: “Ladies and Gentlemen… thank you for joining Cassius this evening. Cassius stands on the edge of… something. Something huge. Cassius has won titles. Cassius has won tournaments. But never before has Cassius been tested like he has in the Iron King Tournament. Street Fights, special rules, Pankration, and now MMA, Cassius has been forced outside of his comfort zone, forced to prove himself in ways he never considered he would have to… or even could.”
He pauses a moment, looking about the room, before turning back to the camera.
CASSIUS REED: Each time a new match type was announced, Cassius felt that challenge. With each new opponent, he was tested. Former World Champions. Legendary figures. Cassius ain’t about to say it was easy… some of the hardest fights Cassius have ever fought, in fact. But there’s an old saying… taught to me by my cousin: As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another. Cassius sees the point of these tests. They ain’t just an arbitrary set of random matches to make life difficult. They’re designed to take us, strengthen us, and reforge us into something else.
A smile.
CASSIUS REED: “The Iron King.”
Cassius leans into the podium’s microphone.
CASSIUS REED: “And it ain’t like Cassius ain’t made the hop from another sport before. Most you probably know, but Cassius was a boxer before he was a wrestler. Took Cassius from Atlanta to the Olympic selection committee for 2012… Cassius trained hard for that shot… but fell short at the final hurdle. It was the hardest defeat Cassius had ever had… still is. But everything Cassius has done since that day… moving to Canada to retrain, working bars throughout Toronto to pay for it… to getting his first gig down in Toronto… to his first championship, and then his second, and then the Passion of the Juniors Cup… everything Cassius has done in this business has been spurred by that day. He will not experience that sensation again. And yeah, Cassius has lost matches. Lost championships. Exited tournaments. But there’s never been anything he wanted as much as he wanted that day.”
Serious look.
CASSIUS REED: “Until now.”
Cassius gestures about him, at his surroundings.
CASSIUS REED: “When MMA was announced for the semis and the finals, Cassius got straight to work. Limited time to train in an entirely new discipline. Yeah, sure, he’s got that boxing experience, but that’s only a part of the package. This ain’t boxing. So that’s why Cassius came to THRONE, to train under the team of Marissa Kane herself. You may have heard of her. Former MLC World Champion. Former WFC Bantamweight Champion. 17 lifetime wins, 12 by knockout. 3 losses, all by decision. And as soon as Cassius decided he was going to be the next Iron King? Where else could he train other than with the Murder Queen’s people?”
He leans into the podium, heavily resting on it.
CASSIUS REED: “It ain’t been easy. Taking everything you know about fighting, and having to do it all differently… it’s taxing on the mind, on the body, on the soul… but you people out there, you trust Cassius when he says this: he’d pay that price thrice over, for this opportunity. To stand up there, and be recognised alongside the likes of TJ, Jagi and Gryphon…”
He looks down a moment, before bringing his gaze back up and into the lens of the camera.
CASSIUS REED: “And Cassius ain’t about to let anyone just stand up and block his path. He didn’t let Chino, Jones or the Devil himself Lasiewicz block his way, and he ain’t about to step aside for Bailey Kaitlin Huff.”
A quick flash of the smile.
CASSIUS REED: “Now, Cassius ain’t about to wave over everything this girl’s achieved. He’s seen her trainers reports slide over his desk at HKW HQ. Hell, she’s outlasted 2 out of 3 of those same trainers, she’s overcome massive odds in every round so far to reach the semis, and she AIN’T EVEN BEEN ON TV FOR RISE YET. That’s the bit Cassius can’t get his head around. Cassius has got to wonder why they hiding her away from the public when she can fight like this.”
Head tilt.
CASSIUS REED: “You see, this is a key issue. One which Cassius has to acknowledge so he don’t fall victim to the same trap. The others, they all made the mistake of underestimating her. They all saw some girl from developmental that hadn’t even hit TV yet. Not Cassius though, oh no. Cassius sees through the lies, through the subterfuge, to what is, when you consider all the facts, the truth about BKH.”
A light, almost dismissive shrug of the shoulders, as if implying what he’s about to say is no big deal.
CASSIUS REED: “She’s a wrestling machine sent back in time from a dystopian future to Piledrive Sarah Connor.”
Cassius leans in close, over the podium.
CASSIUS REED: “AND CASSIUS DIDN’T OVERCOME THE DEVIL TO FALL TO THE FUNKIN’ TERMINATOR!”
Cassius stands back up once more.
CASSIUS REED: “Who’s got the advantage here? It’s hard to say. On one side of the ring, you got the funkiest boxer to ever step outta Georgia. On the other, an inhuman killing machine programmed only to choke a sucka out. OH AND IT’S MMA SO THAT’S FAIR.”
He starts shaking his head.
CASSIUS REED: “Cassius has been working his fingers to the bone these past few weeks preparing for this. He ain’t going to be caught off-guard. He ain’t going to underestimate the girl. He’s coming out swinging, every last gun blazing. The road to being the Iron King only has a few steps left, and Cassius ain’t about to stumble now.”
Another little smile.
CASSIUS REED: “Because you see, once Cassius steps past Bailey… not if, when... then Cassius got one of two people in front of him… and all of a sudden two prizes on the line. Cassius gonna talk on that in a minute. But first, let’s check out these other two.”
He holds a single finger up.
CASSIUS REED: “One: Ana Starling. She the niece of the Devil, so Cassius guesses like Damien but with pig tails and trying to stick you in a dress. Cassius knows her from way back. San Diego way back. And he ain’t about to deny that she ain’t come a long way since she could barely get between the ropes wit’out flippin’ ass over tit and faceplantin’ the mat. She’s the Rising Phoenix champ for a reason, you know? And Cassius is more than willing to believe it’s at least in part due to that devil blood running hot through her veins.”
He shrugs.
CASSIUS REED: “Plenty of people, like they do Bailey, underestimate her. That fool CruZe did, and he’s dealin’ wit’ the fallout of that now. She’s got that whole circus girl schtick. She talks funny… and we all know Cassius ain’t in no position to talk about that… so people think she’s slow, or whatever. But Cassius sees different. Cassius knows different. Cassius has seen the devil in her eyes. When she fought GRENDEL. When she fought CruZe last. When she fought Jackson. He’s seen her uncle in her… but she ain’t her uncle. And Cassius is in as good a position as any to know the differences, and similarities, in family.”
Another shrug.
CASSIUS REED: “Plus Cassius now gets a really good rate on bulk Holy Water.”
His had goes up once more.
CASSIUS REED: “Two: Aurora. Now Cassius don’t know Rori so well, outside of her teaching down at RISE, but it ain’t every girl you meet who’ll let you stash a set of brass knucks down her titties Cassius’ll tell you that for free.”
He gestures at his chest for a moment, giving the universal hand movements for “boobs”, whilst mouthing “have you seen them…” before realising what he’s doing, and stopping, politely coughing.
CASSIUS REED: “And damn if that girl ain’t got more balls than the majority of the men who entered this thing by putting that belt on the line in each and every match. There’s a reason why she’s the face of this company, and why she’s one of the only two employees still in this thing. She’s smart. She’s talented. She’s smokin’. Damn if Cassius ain’t ever seen someone so sexy whilst giving a DDT that there be suckas queueing up round the block to take one off of her. She’s got the fans behind her, the home ground advantage, and when Cassius checked she was topping the odds back in Vegas. There’s only one thing she ain’t.”
And there, like a light flashing to life at the flick of a switch, comes Cassius’ trademark megawatt grin.
CASSIUS REED: “She ain’t Cassius Reed. None of these ladies are. They all got the opportunity to make history. To be the very first Iron Queen. That incentive, you know, is going to push each and everyone of these women to push harder, perhaps harder than they ever have. To become champion. To become Queen. To make history!
Cassius draws quiet, as the camera zooms in on him a little.
CASSIUS REED: “Cassius though? He only got one goal. Not three. One. He ain’t here to make history. This ain’t about the Rebirth championship. It never was. This? This is about that.”
Cassius points off behind him, to the throne that’s been sat in the background since the video began.
CASSIUS REED: “Cassius did not come to Phoenix to be your champion. You got champions. You got good ones. Likewise, Cassius did not come to Phoenix to make your history. You got history, long and storied, legends have sweat, bled, and seen their careers live and die on your mats. No… Cassius did not come for that. Cassius came here with one purpose in mind… One purpose that has seen him through it all… to here.”
Extreme close-up, locked only on Cassius’ face.
CASSIUS REED: “To be your king.”
As the camera zooms out, it pans slightly, following Cassius as he steps away from the podium, and approaches the throne. Slowly. Reverently. As he reaches it, he turns, placing both hands firmly on the armrests, hovering on the edge of the seat.
CASSIUS REED: “So on Sunday night, when Cassius’ hand has been raised as champion, and he settles his sweet chocolate keister into that ferrous throne, proudly dons that crown of iron, and then looks down upon you all as both your Iron King and Rebirth Champion, you know what he’ll say? When his faithful subjects gather to catch the syllables of his first utterances, do you know what they’ll be?”
As he finally rests himself down on the throne, a giant smile washes across his face, and the camera comes up into extreme close-up one more.
CASSIUS REED: “You’re welcome.”
Blackout.
-----
GRAYSON UNDERWOOD: “What did I say about...”
As Grayson steps in, going for Cassius’ shin, Reed skips back onto his rear leg, almost adopting crane stance a moment, before kicking the leading leg backwards, following Grayson’s kick, using that momentum to launch a Superman Punch solidly into one of the pads, Gray’s arm swinging back from the force. Lucius, leaning on the apron, can't resist a celebratory fist pump. Grayson looks at his arm, impressed look on his face, as Cassius stands, breathing heavily.
GRAYSON UNDERWOOD: “Better.”
Grayson gestures for Cassius to go again, but a cough from ringside arrests the thought. The group look to ringside, and the woman there. Tall, with long purple hair hanging over her shoulder and a quiet aura of power, Marissa Kane applauds the effort in the ring.
MARISSA KANE: “Not bad, rookie. How’s he doing Gray?”
Grayson smiles.
GRAYSON UNDERWOOD: “Definitely improving.”
MARISSA KANE: “Good. Would hate for this stuff to have been a waste.”
Hauling herself onto the apron, Marissa slips through the ropes, duffel bag over her shoulder. Walking over to the pair, she opens the bag, taking the top item out, before dropping the bag at Cassius’ feet. She hands the item over to him, a royal purple bundle of fabric which, as he unfolds it, reveals itself to be a pair of ring shorts, complete with the THRONE MMA branding.
MARISSA KANE: “Welcome to the team.”
Grayson and Lucius both applaud, as Cassius just continues to turn the lycra over in his hands, before embracing Marissa in a huge hug. She kind of awkwardly flaps a moment, before giving him a bro hug slap on the back in return, rolling her eyes.