Redemption 128: Night Four Press Conference Thread

[Slaine Rodrick]

The following fighters must present their press conferences here. No real restrictions, write whatever you want, how long you want as long as it pertains to the match. All fighters are seated at a single press conference table, starting with the first fighter on the left end and the last fighter on the right end.

BAD ASS © vs. 

Sandy Makel

Jason Cashe vs. 

Conor Blackburn

Tyberius King vs.

 Carrick Price

Ernest Cauldwell vs.

 Anastasia Starling ©

PRESS CONFERENCES DUE BY AUGUST 26TH @ 11:59 PM EST

[Jason Cashe]

A similar setting. Folding chairs, tables, a podium. The crowd of people with their cameras and smart phones. Questions to be asked and the remaining members of Phoenix Wrestling's "Iron King" Tournament were to be here and answer questions. It was still early so the crowd hadn't fully grown, rather bare inside the open room. The scheduling for these things usually didn't have them starting until much later in the day. A man in a green jumpsuit drags a mop bucket up onto the stage. His head down and he was wearing a hat as he began to mop the table tops. The few in the room turn startled at the tactic for cleaning this Custodian was using. Whispers began to rise and a few people called someone, snitches. The very moment someone from the room speaks out, things begin to unfold.

"Excuse me? Wh--" Startled, the man jumps back some as the Custodian flings the mop dripping with nasty bucket water out over what crowd has formed. Ten people tops but everyone of them felt some moisture. Dropping the mop next to him, the Custodian pulls off his hat and lifts his face. It was Jason Cashe. Tossing the hat, he begins to unzip the jumpsuit. It was really kind of fitting with his wild look and missing gapped grin. Approaching the podium, nobody was ready to start and nobody was told it would be Cashe to speak first.

"How the fuck is everyone? Small crowd. So I came out here early to prove two things.." Pausing as a few more people enter the room. Security behind them as if needing to control a situation but as they lay eyes on Cashe and he salutes them. The security leaves as even more people hurry to enter the room. The growth of the crowd was better now but the numbers didn't matter to Cashe. It was what he needed to say that mattered and thanks to social media, people would hear it. "I wasn't suppose to be in this Iron King. I raised my hand, stepped up when Jason Jackson found an excuse to run. Maybe that's a jab at the man but I haven't noticed him pull from anything else as of yet." Waving that direction of topic away, Cashe changes pace.

"Here's the thing. Nobody thought I'd be here right now. As a last minute replacement I stepped in and beat that pale faced Asian guy who's name I can't pronounce."

"Masaru Inoue. Maaa-Saaa--"

Now Cashe was waving off this interrupter. "I don't much care now!! I beat him already! Who the fuck needs to hear his name now? Where were you before the match when I spent more time trying to say that than I was worrying about his "Knee" strikes. How stereotype is THAT shit? He's Asian so.. WOW! He has some kicks and knees? You don't say? Heh.. Like.. Seriously? Now slap that to go along with his Goth look? It's a contradiction. Discipline meets Rebellion. Go figure but now he is sitting sidelines while I jumped over him in this tournament of Checkers. Guess what's upcoming? KING ME BITCH! That's what and who comes next in that? Conor Blackburn? Is he a fucking Pirate?"

"That's Blackbeard not Blackburn.."

"What the fuck ever dude.. I mean. He's one of those Cage Fighters coming in for this right? I respect MMA but that isn't this. Where we have a few similarities, it still holds some HUGE differences. I can stomp the SHIT out of you to your face, I can spread your butt cheeks and field goal your dookie shooter if it fucking calls for it. Can't do that shit inside the Grapple game! Now I understand that these rules are made each round to add a far more lethal dosage to a technical fight. Cool, bet, you do you, bring them subs and I'll bring the pinch and gas game to defend it. I don't care. Put me in a Triangle and I'll fart, shart and shit to break free. That's real!"

Too many were laughing. A few disgusted and bothered by his words but everyone believed him. He had been known as someone who SHIT the ring in his last place of employment. He swears it was bad tuna the night before but he won that match just the same. From losing bets and letting owners bare ass fart in his face to slapping and throwing wet toilet paper plucked from the public toilets. He used "foul" to his advantage but in that came assumptions. He was clean, he just didn't APPEAR to be!

"I was asked the other day if what happened to Kelli Torres was at all my fault. If I knew about it? No. I'd have gladly scrapped with her and then jumped into Double Duty with this tournament after. I don't know who done did it or why it was done. Can't answer what I don't know.. Maybe she farted in someone's cake? Some folks into that these days. All I know is that the DiOGee is here and I'm here to bark, kick, scratch, bite and fight with anyone that gets booked to be in the rough with me. I don't RASSLE, I make this shit look like a Prison fight. Like someone MIGHT get raped. Like waking up and seeing a much bigger, badder, nastier motherfucker in your cell and the door clanks shut behind him. Small space type of scrap. I stays on ya like stank on shit and white on rice. I can be your buddy or a daymare in your work place. In this business sometimes we clock in and get clocked the fuck out! So Conor.. We bout to get some time in.. You ready?"

He wasn't going to answer questions. He had shit on his head to say and said it. Now he was limping off stage not because he is hurt but because his dick is heavy.

[turdferguson]

The cameras focus on the other half of the Cashe vs Blackburn matchup, the hulking figure of the former PW Tag Champ & general scourge. He appears about as nonplussed as ever at the going-on so far, and once it’s become clear he’s going to be the focus of attention, Conor clears his throat and adjusts his mic stand.

Conor Blackburn: Hello, thank you for your time and for understanding in advance that since my arrangement at the last press conference worked well, I will once again only be opening up to Mr. Scriven for questions.

Other reporters in attendance shoot “Big Dave” some dirty looks.

Conor Blackburn: The last bout has come and gone, a pretty clean knockout. There’s always work to clean up, but things went fairly smoothly. Pride Rules coming up, an exciting new challenge after being a bit limited in my approach in the previous two bouts, if I do say so myself. So please, ask away.

Blackburn folds his arms as he awaits the first question.

Dave Scriven: Uh yeah, I had a few I wanted to get to, but first I gotta get your thoughts on what your opponent just had to say, that was quite the display by Jason Cashe there.

Conor quirks a brow.

Conor Blackburn: You’ll have to enlighten me, if I’m being honest I kind of started hearing Deliverance banjos cueing up once he started talking, and the rest became white noise to me. I’m not big on basing my mindset heading into a fight on what my opponent has to say, either. Don’t like letting them be the one who dictates the terms of things.

Dave Scriven: Well uh, you know, he kinda acted like he didn’t know who you were, never mind your history here in Phoenix. Talked about you as an MMA fighter … do you feel disrespected? Like he’s trying to wind you up on purpose and throw you off?

Running his hands through his hair, Conor lets out a light sigh.

Conor Blackburn: I’m not really sure what’s worth talking about here. The man’s loud, and not that smart. This isn’t something new, and I’m sure even he would be the first to admit that. I’m a little bit disappointed in you David, I thought you would a new development to bring to the table here. But, to spin that forward a bit, I do think for the way he fights those aren’t necessarily bad things for him.

The reporter seems slightly thrown off for a moment before flipping through his notepad and gathering himself.

Dave Scriven: Uh, okay then, well uh to kinda go off that, what is your read on him as an opponent?

Blackburn rests his arms on the table.

Conor Blackburn: Like I said, those traits he has work well for him. The man’s good at what he does, he’s had a good career. He’s not a thinker, he never has been, but he’s very tough-- what happened to his teeth is proof of that-- and he knows how to scrap. Not very technical at all, but if your head isn’t in the right spot, he’s the type that will drag you into deep waters and make things ugly. You can feel like you’re in control, and end up drowning fast against an opponent like him.

Scriven interjects with a follow-up.

Dave Scriven: So I take it your mindset’s pretty good though heading into this one? I hate to use the whole momentum cliche, but that’s a pretty clean performance like you said, you have to be in a good place.

The wrestler’s face seems strained a bit as he listens to the question, before answering.

Conor Blackburn: Here’s the deal with that, some wrestlers, some fighters are creatures who ride extreme highs and lows. I’ve said it before, but what sets me apart besides my size, my skills, is my mind. When I step into a match or a fight, I’m not just spouting some cliche when I say it’s a new fight and a new opponent. My mindset’s consistent, it’s tuned to get results. That’s how I keep pushing forward, consistently positioning myself as a winner, and making sure I focus on the details of each particular match up.

Big Dave looks like he’s going to say something, but Conor continues on.

Conor Blackburn: I’m assuming you’re going to ask about these details, what I think about Pride Rules and all that jazz-- don’t worry, I’m getting there. They definitely are rules that play into what Cashe does well, a lot more goes. But as I alluded to there, adaptability is one of my strengths. I go out there and execute, no matter the situation. People might get the wrong impression because I have the restraint to follow the rules of a given match up, or match type. That’s not hesitation to do what I have to, that’s the confidence that I can excel in any given situation. In case people have forgotten, in situations where anything goes, or more or less anything goes? My actions make serious, consequential impacts.

He clears his throat.

Conor Blackburn: And while what Cashe does serves him well, while this is a rule set that plays into his type of fight? Let’s not forget that I have a long track record, including in this company of taking those cut from his cloth-- the rough and tumble fighters who like to agitate, and piecing them apart, dribbling their heads off the floor with my elbow. This is not me trying to do any kind of convoluted math, or flaunt past results. Rather, I’m saying that if anyone questions whether this match up, whether these rules play into what make me dangerous? They might need a reminder of what I am capable of, and that I’m not just talking about a few techniques I couldn’t throw when I say I’ve been limited.

Scriven raises an index finger after spotting something in his notes.

Dave Scriven: Uh, what about the yellow card rule against timidity under Pride Rules? How much does that play into your strategy, and does it make you worry about potentially rushing into something?

Conor Blackburn: I am aware of what the rules are, David.

He deadpans without skipping a beat.

Conor Blackburn: Listen, I am going to make this as clear as I possibly can. This rule set provides its own unique challenges, and so does this opponent. Mr. Cashe showed he’s still a worthy adversary at this stage by beating Masaru, which is kind of the baseline for that. Inoue’s a guy that I had figured out four years ago, that Chris Shields had figured out four years ago-- and Chris Shields is terrible-- and who peaked about 6 or 7 years ago. That said, he’s had a bit of a resurgence and has at least composed himself enough to be that test of who belongs and who can hang here in Phoenix. Cashe passed that, he showed he’s still very good. But I did not come back under this banner to worry about facing people who are good at what they do. I know, and everyone who has watched me knows that besting people who are very good is what I do as a combatant. The only way to test myself is to keep pushing myself, keep racking up victory after victory under rule set after rule set until I find a point where I actually do meet my match. My drive to do that is very real, and I do not believe it will be stopped any time soon-- he’s welcome to try though.

With that, he pushes the microphone away and leans back in his chair.

[kenfucius]

Another day, another press conference. With Conor finishing up his two man show with Dave Scriven, the attention turned around. Sandy leaned forward quickly, opening himself up to questions. After the last time, Sandy wasn’t in the mood to let anyone else dictate the timing for him, and he wanted to get things out of the way. It had been a ridiculously busy month for Sandy, and this wasn’t the part he liked. He just wanted to get into the fight and hear the bell ring.

With a smile intended to be be ingratiating, something he felt he needed after his terse press conference before the fight with Sherry, Sandy took a question from the first hand raised.

Reporter #1:Sandy, you’ve been radio silent on pretty much every front for a while now. Any reason for that?

Sandy’s eyebrow cocked upwards and he smiled slightly.

Sandy: I’ll answer your question with a question, despite the manners my parents taught me. What does that have to do with why we’re here now?

The reporter shuffled their feet slightly and glanced away.

Reporter #1: Trying to get an insight into how you prepared for the fight. You run a tightly closed camp, and we don’t get a lot of news. Given your history, I was wondering if it was a choice for privacy or…

The question trailed off.

Sandy: ... or if maybe I’m doing things I shouldn’t be doing, involving such add-ons as pills, money, and gambling.

Reporter #1:You were very… curt… at the press conference during the last round. You’re known as someone who keeps their composure. It didn’t seem too big of a leap, given your background.

Sandy glanced away, nodding to himself, trying to rein in his own temper. The anger, he knew, was only partly due to the question itself. Too many years of intrusive questions had long since made Sandy a fairly surly interview to start with. However, the truth was that Sandy’s anger was directed inward, because it was a plausible question. He’d opened himself up to that with his past actions, so now he had to reap the fruit of the seeds he’d sown over the years.

Sandy: That’s fair. In this instance, it was a personal choice to keep my attention on other things. Truthfully, it’s my nature to maintain a semblance of privacy. I do so for good reason. It’s no secret that I’m an addict, I don’t hide that part, it’s why you get to ask. However, my intent has always been to avoid glorifying my old lifestyle. Even when I was making a concerted effort to avoid the ‘fan favorite’ tag, I understood that we’re entertainers as well as athletes, and impressionable people will take their lead from people in my position. I’m the last thing from a role model, and while I could manage my problems for years, I wouldn’t have wished most of that part of my life on my worst enemy. So I kept my private life private and avoided social media for the most part, always have.

Sandy takes a pause, looking down at the table in front of him, at the chip he carried around that symbolized his first year of sobriety. He’d never quite broken his habit for needing to carry around a lucky charm, and he needed something to replace the old trademark golden die.

Sandy: I’m in recovery, but I’ve been maintaining that policy. I spend some of my free time working with other addicts, because this is about more than me. Maintaining their privacy is a tenet. There’s a reason they put the word “Anonymous” in the name of the program, you know? Remember when I said during my first week that I was donating my Iron King payments to charity? I’m working on helping fund a training program for sober companions. I had one for the first six months after I came out of rehab the last time around, and I wouldn’t have made it as far as I have without that help. I wouldn’t be here, doing what I love. That’s the other reason I’ve been maintaining radio silence this past while, because that man...

Sandy pointed directly at BAD ASS, looking in his direction with a measuring glance. Little response from his upcoming opponent, who may or may not have been paying attention, as he sat in his familiar pose with his headphones on.

Sandy: ... deserves my focus. I don’t have time to mess around on Twitter, not when I have to train for someone like him. Phoenix is his spiritual home, this is where he first made his mark. I know, because I was under contract here in a non-wrestling capacity at the time, I saw it first hand in the Pentagram, I watched him hand Alan Pryor, a man who I trained, a man who should have been an Olympian and would go on to become this company’s champion, the first professional loss of his career. Not only that, I’m not fighting him in a wrestling ring under the rules I live and breathe… I’m fighting the man who recently won one of the most highly regarded championships in all of MMA, against one of the best champions in the sport in past years, under Pride Rules. I’ve been talking about volunteer work and charity so far, and the people I work with on that front will tell you I’ve been slacking these past few weeks when it comes to everything that isn’t training.

Another reporter’s hand shot up quickly, and Sandy barely had the opportunity to nod in their direction before they started talking.

Reporter #2: Sandy, sounds like you admire BAD ASS. How do you rate your chances in this fight, really?

Sandy gave another look at BAD ASS, then glanced back at the reporter with a shrug.

Sandy: Admire is probably a strong word. It implies I like the guy, personally. I have a ton of respect for him, though. People forget, I think, how far he’s come since he showed up in Phoenix at first. He loved to fight, but he was all attitude and no aptitude. He was sloppy, but he got by purely on being tough and fighting like he was rabid. The strides he’s made in his technique over the years, from that to this… it’s a million miles, and he’s still just as much of a goddamn bulldog. The dude wins fights, he wins titles, and he’d sign up for a fight if he was in traction. My chances in this fight are going to be dictated by the flow of the fight. I’m not scared to go to war with BAD ASS, but it’s not going to be the smart play to let it happen. I need to put the fight where I want it. Going to be easier said than done, no doubt about that, but it’s also exactly what I’ve been doing for the best part of twenty years. I’m not without tools, and I’m the only person in this tournament with a win over a current Caged Glory champion. I wondered how I would handle the switch in disciplines before the Iron King started, but I’m still here, and with every fight that passes I get more confidence, and as the competition gets tougher, I start having more fun.

Sandy scanned the room, looking for another question. Something about a reporter in the back row caught his eye. It wasn’t the most insistent hand raise, but he had a look to him that made Sandy pick him out.

Reporter #3: Sandy, any comments on the fact that this round of the tournament was delayed by a week?

Sandy narrowed his eyes slightly.

Sandy: Not really, things happen. I’ve always liked it here in Mexico but let’s face it, sometimes, getting things done in this country can be unnecessarily difficult, and occasionally expensive.

The reporter nodded Sandy’s way then followed up.

Reporter #3: Given the historical ties between your opponent and the organizer of Iron King, and the rumors that BAD ASS was having some injury issues, he may have benefited from the extra week of recovery. Given that you called Mr. Black out at the previous press conference before your fight with Sherry Diamond, are you concerned at all?

Sandy: Conspiracy theories? Really?

Sandy gave Seth Black a long look.

Sandy: Now, I’m not going to say it would be beyond Seth to pull a stunt like that if he thought there would no downside to it. It’s a little brazen, but I don’t think he’s ever been quite as subtle as he thinks he is. Here’s the thing though. I don’t think he would do something like that just to mess with me because I hurt his feelings, and I don’t think he’s doing BAD ASS any major favors with the delay. Now, BAD ASS may have had more recovery time for this fight, but thanks to the delay, he now has to fight in Guadalajara on the 28th, get his ass on a plane to Tokyo, rest up, recover, and then defend his Divine Championship on the 31st. The guy’s gone from having a week and change to be ready to defend his title for the first time to less than seventy-two hours. This only suits BAD ASS if everyone involved thinks he’s going to tune me up in short order with no risk, in which case, it wouldn’t have mattered if he hadn’t had the extra time to put himself back together anyway.

Sandy gave a small chuckle and shook his head at the reporter who asked the question.

Sandy: Seth and I, we don’t like each other very much, no doubt on that, and I know Vegas isn’t giving me much in the way of odds in this fight. But here’s the thing, I always fight with my head. I like putting on a show, but I fight smart, first and foremost, and I keep my cool. If anybody in this room, at this point, after I went fifteen minutes with Sherry and won, thinks I’m going to be an easy out, they’re dreaming. I don’t mind being a long shot, it’s where I do my best work, and I’ll tell you this for nothing. BAD ASS is a hell of a fighter, but if I were still a betting man?

Sandy smirked, glancing back and forth between BAD ASS and Seth.

Sandy: ... I’d never bet against me. Now, I think I’ve talked long enough, so, I’ll cede the floor.

Sandy leaned back in his chair, away from his microphone, sharing a long stare with Seth.

Conspiracies? Sandy doubted it.

But then, he hadn’t lived this long in the world without learning to watch every angle.

He’d have to make sure that come the 28th, there was nothing that could surprise him.

[BAD ASS]

(Having heard Sandy Makel’s words, BAD ASS smirked and nodded his head. Just what he expected out of the veteran, respectful confidence. He was however a little accusatory to Seth Black, implying that he purposely extended the Iron King tournament so BAD ASS could have more time to heal. This brought something that was quite the rarity in these press conferences...a question for the mediator. A japanese female reporter in a purple flower dress stood up and looked in Seth’s direction.)

REPORTER: Having heard what Sandy said, how do you feel about his comments?

(Seth smirked and gripped the edges of his podium, letting out a little sigh before speaking calmly into the mic.)

BLACK: Surprised but not sure if I should be. Please everyone, leave the conspiracy theories up to BAD ASS, that’s his forte.

(A chuckle from the crowd and BAD ASS, who had no problem admitting his love for conspiracies. The female reporter then turned her attention to BAD ASS, who asked him pretty much the same question.)

REPORTER: Bad Ass, what is your take on that?

(A rub of the chin as he assessed the conspiracy.)

BAD ASS: I think that Seth and I don’t collude together to extend events for my own benefit. I don’t think Seth would do that on his own either. There’s some heat between Sandy and him, so it makes sense for someone's mind to wander there. That’s about it.

(Having noticed the black shades BAD ASS was wearing, the reporter fired off one more question.)

REPORTER: If you don’t mind me asking, why the shades?

(A smirk from BAD ASS as he pushed back on the bridge.)

BAD ASS: Well, what started out as a cut is now a large purple region that is rather unsightly. I’d rather be sittin’ pretty than be that battered goon at the table. That ninja fucker James Edwards caught me good, I’ll give him that. 

REPORTER: Thank you.

(She took a seat to BAD ASS’s nod, and another reporter took the cue and stood up shortly after. This one a massive hairy American wearing a Mets jersey.)

REPORTER: With the fight only being three days away, will you be ready for…

(BAD ASS shut him down on the spot.)

BAD ASS: Alright, I want to make this clear from the get go. The next reporter that asks about my fight with P3 will get a flying knee to the face. Know that and don’t address it.

REPORTER: Can I….

BAD ASS: No you can’t. Sit down. Next question.

(It’s quiet for a little as the P3 related questions flew away. Eventually a tall Asian man dressed in khakis and a grey dress shirt stood up.)

REPORTER: There is a lot of buzz right now about you BAD ASS, and how big this match is. In all honesty, I want you tell us what this fight means to you.

(A pushed out lip and a nod. It sounded like what he wanted was a shoot. BAD ASS stood up and grabbed the mic. He then proceeded to walk around to the other end of the press conference table, looking at Sandy who looked back at him. The audience was buzzing with cheers as BAD ASS patiently waiting for them to calm down. Seven seconds in and he could finally get a word in.)

BAD ASS: Sorry Sandy, but if I’m gonna shoot on someone to their face I can’t be sitting next to them. That’s a little weird. So don’t mind my quirk, just sit there and listen. Reporter dude wants to know what this fight means to me. It means I’m stepping in the ring with a legend in the industry. One of the most toughest, cerebral, technical warriors out there. Here we have one of the staples of Sin City Wrestling and TFWF. The kind of guy that despite his age and wear and tear, you just know you’re in for a fight with him as soon as the bell rings. In a wrestling match? This guy would most likely beat me. But at Night 4 he steps into the ring with a guy who is a soccer kicking, face stomping machine. This is a world I’m chomping at the bits to compete in, and that’s PRIDE rules. In CGFC it’s commonly known as Bushido rules. I’ve yet to compete in a match like that, which makes me even more eager to go out there and put in a statement against the legend Sandy Makel. This is a weird bucket list match of sorts for me. I get to face a legend in pro wrestling and I get to face him under PRIDE rules. I’m stoked to say the least.

(That smirk dropped.)

BAD ASS: But don’t think I’m here to fanboy you Sandy. I ain’t. I know full well what a wrestler’s chances are in a match like this. All the shit you got away with against Sherry Diamond won’t work in this environment. While I am thoroughly impressed in you taking out a true fighter and champ like Sherry, I can tell you that everything you embody as a fighter will be to your detriment in this match. I’m a confident guy Sandy. I got every reason to be.

(He walked over to the PC table and picked up his Divine Championship. The title was held eye level, allowing BAD ASS to admire the craftsmanship. After a good five seconds of ego stroking, he set the belt down.) 

BAD ASS: Sandy what you’re stepping into is not only a bad stylistic matchup, but one that will cause quite the amount of damage to your body. I know you’re brand new to MMA, so let me school you on what PRIDE rules is all about. Elbows to the face are illegal, standing or on the ground. So you can forget about cutting open my face from guard or in the clinch and getting a doctor’s stoppage. Grounded knees, soccer kicks, and stomps to the body and head are all legal. That means you go in for a takedown, I can catch you with knees to the face. You try to ankle pick me, and well I can soccer kick you in the face. I knock you to the mat? There’s no standing ten count. I get to stomp your face into a blood puddle. There’s no rope breaks, just readjustments if we go under the ropes. So you can forget about trying to hold me against the ropes. Take a hard shot to the chin and wanna lay on me to clear your head and the clock? Yellow card bitch. Ten percent purse deduction every time, so you might want to watch how much you wrestlefuck me. 

(A couple “OHHH!!!”s from the crowd as Sandy patiently took in BAD ASS’s words.)

BAD ASS: I’ll give you credit, you can give me a couple good shots standing. Your footwork is very good for a beginner. But as you saw with James Edwards, being ‘self-taught’ and a natural in kickboxing isn’t enough to keep up on the feet with me. Yeah, you might be able to cause one of these…

(Briefly BAD ASS raised his shades, showing off that bad eye to Sandy before lowering them.)

BAD ASS: But you’re not good enough to put me out or down. I’ve never been knocked out in my MMA career, and I don’t plan to start anytime soon. So that leaves your wrestling, which is quite good. You exhibit good control wherever you are, but you’re going up against a purple belt in BJJ. So if you try to get in close with me on the ground, trust that I will put you to sleep. You do have a hell of a ground and pound game, but do you think that’s really gonna matter once I catch one of those fists and wrap you in a triangle armbar? Your body has had more than it’s share of wars over the years, which means you’re a little on the brittle side. As strong as your will and experience may be, you do not want to be tied up with someone who can tap you from any angle. 

(Realizing he’s given Sandy some hits, he raised a hand up in peace.)

BAD ASS: Don’t twist my words Sandy. I respect you. I respect your accomplishments. I respect all you’ve done for pro wrestling. I even respect you proving yourself, well past your prime that you’re still a very dangerous man. I’ll never forget the war you had with Nick Stevenson at Hard Steel Rising. God what a gay name for a show, but a hell of a match. That was my first experience to you as a wrestler, and made me a fan. Since then you’ve dominated this industry. What a Cinderella story it would be. This great wrestler comes out of retirement and wins Iron King against the most stacked field of opposition yet. It would be truly an amazing feat. 

(That hand came back up, but this time his index finger pointed upward.)

BAD ASS: There’s just one problem. You’re facing BAD ASS. One of the few individuals out there to hold a world title in MMA and Pro Wrestling. As great as you are Sandy, you aren’t me. Too many wars. Too much abuse. Too many concussions. Not nearly enough training to win this shindig. Do I think you could be a star in MMA? Absolutely. You proved that against Sherry. But you’re facing someone who will do everything he can to cement himself as the one of the true elites of combat sports before he retires at a young age with his brain still intact. I want nothing more than to make this quick. I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t want to injure you. But I know how stubborn you are. I know how strong that will is. I’ll batter you till’ you look like a hamburger faced zombie. You’ll still keep coming, because that’s just Sandy fucking Makel. Look Sandy, I want to see you come back big time in pro wrestling. I want to see you take over the Underground. So please, for the sake of you having a good career resurgence, please give up when I sub you. Please don’t get up if you’re seeing double of me. Please don’t let down the fans by shortening this comeback. They don’t want to see you lose, but they want to see you compete for a little while. Don’t let them down.

(BAD ASS instinctively went for a mic drop, but then remembered he forgot to warn the crowd.)

BAD ASS: So yeah...no further questions!!

(Then the mic drop. He walked back to his seat and lounged back with his headphones, going into his usual ‘leave me alone’ zone. After the applause died down, the room lay still as the next reporter plotted their move.)

[Silver Eagle]

(The questions were lining up thick and fast for the competitors of the 2018 Iron King Tournament, and proceedings were going extremely smoothly. As the press worked through the line of challengers for the throne, their focus then turned to the single female figure upon the stage, a bright pair of pink headphones upon their head as they suddenly began singing along to a tune no one else could hear.)

ANASTASIA STARLING: Shake it up is all that we know, using the bodies up as we go. I'm waking up to fantasy… The shades all around, aren't the colors we used to see. Broken ice still melts in the sun and times that are broken can often be one again. We're soul alone,and soul really matters to me...

(The Clockwork Songbird had the most angelic soprano singing voice, fused with hints of jazz and she bopped her head as she sung her 80’s hymn. Her eyes were closed tightly as she seemingly danced in her seat, seemingly not having a care in the world for the proceedings around.)

ANASTASIA STARLING: Take a look around...

(The Phoenix Rebirth Championship belt laid before her, and she was attired in a smooth cream business suit with accents of neon pink, her curls scrapped back into a ponytail, the tips matching the pink of the headphones and suit.)

ANASTASIA STARLING: You're out of touch
I'm out of time… But I'm out of my head when you're not around. You're out of touch, I'm out of time… But I'm out of my head when you're not around

(She continued to sing, some of the press losing themselves in her stunning rendition of the popular Hall and Oates number, while others were bemused at her antics. The was whispering when another figure paced onto the stage, attired in black on black and a thick cast on their arm.)

ANASTASIA STARLING: Oh, oh-oh, oh
Oh, oh-oh, oh.

(The figure tapped her on the shoulder, and she immediately removed her headphones, blushing slightly with a wild look in those greens and blues of hers, a look that read that she wasn’t quite there. The taller figure took a step towards the microphone, the same figure that made their presence felt at the last conference as well.)

BOBBY B. BARABBAS: Ladies, Gentlemen and Members of the Jury… My name is Bobby B. Barabbas. And I am both the father and business representative for the reigning Phoenix Wrestling Rebirth World Champion, Anastasia Starling. She is a THREE time World level Champion, winner of two of the most prestigious tournaments in the professional wrestling world in the GFC Invitational and the CCP Queen of the Mountain. And she is here today to discuss with you, the honoured press, her path towards not only matching her performance of reaching the Iron King Semi-Finals, but going further than any woman has gone before… And winning this entire, most glorious event.

(Bobby B. Barabbas, the Pied Piper of Pro Wrestling and Director of HKW Underground introduced his client and daughter with the pride that only a father could have, his smooth and sophisticated voice gripping the entire room as he demanded their attention.)

BOBBY B. BARABBAS: Most honoured press… I give you THE CHAMPION!

ANASTASIA STARLING: MINE!

(She seemed to snap back into reality as she stood, the minor applause for her introduction dying down after she raised her title high in the air, eyes scanning the room as she physically reminded the entire audience that she was the champion of this company. She seated herself, a devilish smirk appearing on her pretty face. She gave that awkward pause as she scanned the room, waiting for someone willing to ask the first question, and it was none other than the most famous of wrestling journalists who stood first.)

DAVID SCRIVEN: Ms. Starling. We have discussed your indifference about the rules and regulations of this tournament, but last time around you gave a spirited performance against tough competition. Many were not expecting your father to be present for the match, let alone this and the last press conference. You have mentioned publically that the presence of Mr. Barabbas was instrumental in your victory. Could you please elaborate on this comment, and your contest a couple of weeks ago?

ANASTASIA STARLING: You should know, David, that I give my absolute all in everything that I do. I don’t like leaving decisions in other people’s hands, and I sure wasn’t interested in leaving the decision in the Judge’s hands. That is why I came in so, so strongly in the third round. I needed to get the win, I needed to end it there, and after two hard rounds I felt I had figured out Rowyn’s strategy and I knew exactly what to do. He gave me the fight that I expected, and he deserves the praise of the fans and pundits that has been lavished on him. But there is a reason why I am the champion, why I am the one that everyone is fighting to face AND why I am the one to beat.

(There was no pause to think, as if she was pre-empting this question all along, and she answer quickly and efficiently.)

ANASTASIA STARLING: But I am not letting that happen. Oh no, no, no I am not.

(She wagged her finger in the direction of Scriven, before she turned her head adoringly to her father, who had remained standing behind her. It was quite the unusual sight to see a business representation upon the stage for one of these press conferences, and this fact had been clearly noted by the gathered press..)

ANASTASIA STARLING: Papa was an inspiration for me, and he did exactly what he needed to do to get me to focus on getting the job done. I clearly lost in the 2nd round of that match, I was on the backfoot for the majority of the time and I was concentrating more on being flashy and spectacular than just putting my opponent done. I’m pretty sure this was what Starr was hoping for, and he made me pay for it. This might be a professional wrestling company, but this tournament is pretty much Mixed Martial Arts, and the tactics and skills that I have used to be such a success in the two years I have been with Phoenix will not fully translate to the Iron King tournament. I need to be more ruthless, I need to be more focused. Flips and tricks can give you a major advantage in a wrestling match, but in the Iron King, entertaining does not bring victories. Papa reminded me of that. It how I played things in the first round, and it is what I’m going to have to do both in this round, and the semi-finals and final should my plan of action work. So yeah, Papa shouting at me and reminding me of this was a godsend.

(Barabbas bowed slightly, smiling with pride at his daughter’s words of praise for him, before Anastasia turned her head back to the audience, letting out a little sigh.)

ANASTASIA STARLING: I’ve never really had anyone in my corner for these types of matches before. But it helped more so than I can believe, and now I fully understand why boxers and cage fighters have their coaches and training team in their corners. So, I can happily say that my father, Bobby B. Barabbas, will be in my corner again for the fight with Ernest Cauldwell.

(The press made their notes as Starling and Barabbas shared a knowing nod between each other. The Silent Symphony’s presence was a concern for some members both on the panel and those in the room, but Scriven interjected before anyone else had the chance to speak up.)

DAVID SCRIVEN: In another question, Ms. Starling. You are a competitor that simply thrives off crowd reaction. I’ve followed your career from your days in San Diego to now, and when the crowd is in your corner, you always seem to get better. It’s something that has been clear to me for a while now, and the Phoenix fans are generally white hot for your matches. Your style and skills only inspire them, and I’m sure that support has been a major factor in your success here.

(Ana was taken back a bit by this question, but Scriven was far from done as he continued to grill the reigning champion from Krakow.)

DAVID SCRIVEN: However… In recent weeks, your reactions have soured. I am not just talking about here, but across the three companies you perform in. You have cited that you are upset with some of the chants and comments that have been made about you, and you have laid the blame, in part, at the feet of certain promoters and rivals. Would you like to speak further on this matter?

(Starling paused, blinking a few times as she stuttered, Barabbas shooting Scriven a deathly evil glare for his choice of questioning.)

ANASTASIA STARLING: In… In the first round I was very unhappy with the reaction I got here. I did what I had to do and I was booed. Now management here h-have told me it’s just because people were possibubbly expecting the wild, crazy antics that I am known for. The flips, the cartwheels, 450’s and Shooting Stars and Moonsaults and leaping from impossibubbly silly heights. You can’t do that here in the Iron King, like I said in the last answer. This has been a bigger struggle for me than any other competitor, as I have had to adapt my entire style just for this tournament. My training regime has changed, my diet has change, my sleep patterns and even the gyms I use have changed. It’s not like I don’t have experience, I have said my mother, Lady Magdalena, who was the one who trained me, was one of France’s first top tier female MMA stars. I have the knowledge, but it is changing my natural instincts. The Caged Glory roster don’t have to adapt, this is what they do. Many of the independents in this tournament, that is their natural style, they don’t have to adapt. But I do, but I am a gosh darn natural

(The room seemed to melt around her, Ana seeing the smallest of flames in her mind’s eye as she struggled to get her message forward. She rubbed her eyes slightly, tapping her feet to avoid the snakes she imagined to be curling up and around her sneakers, colours of blue and green and crimson and red yet invisible to everyone else who was present.)

ANASTASIA STARLING: I diverted away a little bit then, but that is what I think the reasoning is here. The people want a certain thing, a certain style from me. And I understand that. But they can’t have that in the Iron King. That won’t bring me glory, like it didn’t bring it last year. I’ve learned from the mistakes of last year when I was eliminated in the semi-finals, and I am not going to make the same mistakes again. As for elsewhere...

(She twitched slightly, taking a deep breath as she saw a thousand and one cats fall from the ceiling, only to crash and burn as they landed in molten hot lava. Barabbas placed a hand on her shoulder, the press looking on with worry, as she composed herself to answer the question.)

ANASTASIA STARLING: In The Underground, people link me to my father. And as he is the Director of the company, people put two and two together and get five. They may not like some of his tactics, nor the way he does his business, but it is a major factor in the company’s success. And many people think because of my relation to him, I get treated differently… And in a way, that is true… As he is more demanding of me, he gives me harder challenges and he does not hand out title shots like they are candy. You know how many I have had in the time I have been in UG? One, and that was for the Interbrand title which is not fully decided by him, it is decided by the entire board. I’ve not been gifted one thing from him, but many are blind to that fact.

(She paused again, seeing the press with warped faces of all those that had scorned her as of late. Izzy Anders, Bart Huff, Lacey Cohen, Holly Chainsaw, her ex wife Sophie El and more. The Adlers, Minerva, Rowen Kito, Eavan, Mary and even Cora Sorlie and her lover, Sarah. She blinked three times and their faces were gone, replaced with the actual faces of the press..)

ANASTASIA STARLING: As for SSWA… that is a different story altogether, as it has become clear by management's decision to eradicate me from their promotional material, replacing me with a certain someone who is extremely close with the owner, that something is seriously wrong with how that company is being run right now. My spots are taken by the owner’s friend, my pictures and footage replaced by them, my high spots on the card taken by them. They even breached my contract not once, but twice to accommodate their friend’s demands, while using propaganda and slander to try an--

(She paused again as she thought she witnessed a bloody raven fly by, wafting her hands to get it out of her face in a confusing display for all those who could not see what she could see.)

ANASTASIA STARLING: --and bury my name. I’ve done so, so much for that company, And they… they are trying to ruin me and instantly pass my success and hard work and everything I have ever done for them over to someone else. I’m the same old me, and after everything I have gone through, I deserve so much better. And while they are trying to turn everything against me, I am fighting back. That is what I do, and what I will continue to do. And they will all see the truth soon enough.

LARK ROBINSON: Hi Ana!

ANASTASIA STARLING: Hai Lark!

(All seemed to return to normalcy as Underground’s own Lark Robinson came in to ask her a question, with clear concern in her voice.)

LARK ROBINSON: At the last Underground broadcast, you were immediately taken to a private medical facility so survey your neck, After taking a particularly nasty bump, who landed on your neck. I know you are here now, but could you give some more information on the suspected injury? And could this have any effect on your contest in the Iron King Tournament?!

ANASTASIA STARLING: Take a look!

(Anastasia rolled her neck, becoming more confident and calm with her words as she displayed that her neck was feeling fine. Reports had been sketchy about this incident, and many on the panel were looking on interested in what she had to say n this..)

ANASTASIA STARLING: My neck is fine. I took a bad tumble after being blindsided by an… an unexpected kick at the last Underground broadcast. Right after the match I was whisked away to a local medical facility for an MRI. All results came back fine, and while it was a little stiff and hurt a little, everything is fine and dandy now. I even went to Sacramento to be checked again an--

(Barabbas coughed as she said this, and Starling turned to him with an embarrassed look upon her face, gritting her teeth as she turned back to the crowd, hearing the screams of those being tortured and the broken glass of a million failed escapes. She stuttered as the noise in her head died down.)

ANASTASIA STARLING: Erm...Thanks, but I don’t have any health concerns at all, and I’ve been medically cleared by them, my personal doctor and Phoenix’s in house medical team as well. I’m going into this match at 100%, so there is nothing at all to be worried about.

(She quickly pointed out another member of the press, trying to move on with the conference quickly as she received a disapproving glance from her father, something few in the room spotted.)

JAMES CORR: Anastasia, do you feel that there is more pressure on you at this stage of the tournament? I don’t mean to be offensive, but you are the only remaining woman in this tournament, and a female has not been crowned the overall winner before. Combined with that, you are one of only two Phoenix representatives left in a tournament dominated by Caged Glory MMA specialists and independants. How has this changed your mindset, if at all?

(Starling then leaned back, folding her arms as she tilted her head..)

ANASTASIA STARLING: I don’t take any offensive by being a woman.

(There was muffled laughter from all those present, the reporter looking a little stunned and sheepish after her playful response.)

ANASTASIA STARLING: But it is true, a woman has never won this tournament. There has never been an Iron Queen, so to speak. But I indeed intend to change that fact. I want to do what no woman has ever done before and win this, one of the top tournaments in the world. The odds may be stacked against me, but that is the way I have always liked it. Sure there are more outsiders in this, talented and strong competitors like Blackburn, Makel, Ty and my opponent, Ernest. But that only makes me more determined.

(The Pale Winged Passerine nodded her head with a smile, pointing out the other competitors upon the panel.)

ANASTASIA STARLING: Some amazing women have entered this tournament in the past, and come ever so close to winning it all. Aurora, no matter how I feel about her personally, was runner up last year, losing by a fraction. I want… no, NEED to go one better than her. I NEED to.


(She hammered her fist into the table to emphasise her point, before she gripped her championship belt tightly, lifting it up in the air once more..)

ANASTASIA STARLING: I am the champion. A chance at this is the prize. But I am going to change the game, so the winner of this tournament will not be facing me… It WILL BE ME. Some of these people here today are made for this sport, my opponent included. This rule set fits him to a tee. But I am made for winning and that is just what I will do.

(Starling looked ready to finish, giving a nod to her father before whispering something to him that the microphone could not pick up. He seemed to nod his head, and she went back to her headphones as if she was about to pack them away, but another familair face appeared in the crowd, another representative from the Underground. Starling seemed surprised, but Barabbas grinned wildly upon seeing the figure of Lauren Maldona ready to question Starling)

LAUREN MALDANO: Where is your head at due to all of the social media mind games going on in your life about your life? How do you think it’s going to affect you going forward, or if at all?

(Ana seemed a little stunned, leaning forward slightly as she glared upon her.)

ANASTASIA STARLING: You asked me the exact same question on Friday, Lauren...

(Lauren nodded her head, mouthing that she had not received an answer on that occasion. Ana was a little shook by this, shaking her head wildly as she tried to wave it off and give a short response..)

ANASTASIA STARLING: My personal life does not affect this. It never has, it never will. And I’d rather this conference focused on the sport, rather than what is going on at home.

(But Lauren pressed on as the temperature of the room seemed to increase. Ana looked to the exits and in her mind’s eye saw they were all blocked by ferocious flames. She panicked slightly, trying cover this up as she saw there was no way to avoid the question and nowhere to escape to. She turned to her father, but he only stared out to Lauren with a grin upon his face.)

LAUREN MALDANO: Even with all the recent rumours about your lovelife? The reported infidelity of your partner? The fact she was the one who nearly kicked your head off at your last show? The constant messages she is posting on Twitter?

(The flames rose and crackled, the screams began to grow louder and the Pale Winged Passerine’s hands shook. Faces melted to reveal hollow skulls, bodies falling limply from chairs and crumbling to dust, the very smoke coming from their places rising up and spelling out hideous messages in the air, vilifying and taunting her)

ANASTASIA STARLING: THIS IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!!!

(She screamed out like a banshee, her eyes wild and wide as she stared out at the competition and the empty spaces were reporters were once seen and now imagined.)

ANASTASIA STARLING: What? You think this is funny? You think this is all a joke? All of you?

(The reporters seemed to return to her sight, rising up from their graves like zombies, putrid flesh growing up their newly formed bones as Anastasia screamed and threatened any and all, her father merely watching on with a Cheshire Cat grin.)

ANASTASIA STARLING: I WILL FUCK YOU UP!!

(The boos in her ears grew ever louder after she pointed out her stunned opponents, who clearly didn’t have a clue what the hell was going on, not seeing anything strange or hearing anything indifferent..)

ANASTASIA STARLING: Make. The. Booing. Stop.

(Barabbas then merely covered her ears with the headphones, smiling widely but being cool as a cucumber. He lifted her up as she gripped the title belt to her chest, and guided her off of the stage. The reporters looked on in shock, not having a clue what they had just witnessed as they hurriedly made notes, preparing to report on this seeming breakdown of the Rebirth Champion)

[ernie]

IRON KING TOURNAMENT / PRIDE RULES

So far, each Iron King presser had outdone the previous, and this was no exception. As always, the sheer number gathered was a sight to behold, and the building's baseline hum of hysteria grew louder with each passing moment as the media and fighters slid into a rhythm. A young lady steps up with a question prepared.

PRESS PASS: Tecia Ramirez with BloodyElbow, this one's for Ernie. First of all, welcome to Guadalajara! During your last tournament outing you were able to secure a victory over Rising Phoenix Champion, Lance Winters, but not without some controversy! Can you give us your thoughts on the way it ended?

Wearing an unstructured red and white Doomsayers Club cap and an old Warped Wrestling t-shirt, Ernie places his phone on the table and lifts his head, displaying a plethora of deathmatch war wounds from a Shinjuku FACE appearance less than a week ago.

CAULDWELL: Ah, yeah, thank you. I was actually in Jalisco March of last year for a fight. Corrupts and I did "The Galvatron" Alejandro Galvan's Lucha Libre podcast, which, to this day, is probably the closest thing to an Outliers tell-all you can get. I had a riot, so it's good to be back, it's a beautiful place. Lots of killer skate spots. To your question though, I'm up here and onto the next round. Where's that mean motor scooter, Lance Winters?

Ernie's eyes widen as he throws up his hands, searching high and low for an absent Winters; finally nodding with a smirk, he leans over the mic.

CAULDWELL: That's all I'm concerned with. The eye rake was a bummer, but if you've seen any of my fights, MMA or Pro Wrestling, you'd know it'd take much more than that to put me out. But that's what he does, right? Fuckery was his only hope, and when shit wasn't going as planned, he found the way out he was looking for. I didn't want his strap anyway. It's all about that Iron King.

Obviously preoccupied with a peeling butterfly bandage above his eye, Ernie winces as he fidgets and smashes it back together. The journalist mirrors the fighters facial expression as the laceration appears to be quite painful, she eventually shakes off the grimace and returns to task.

PRESS PASS: Well, I think we're all in agreement with Alpine's closing comments, we all would have loved to see Oz let it go a little longer! Can you talk a little about the quarterfinals and remaining talent?

The BJJ practitioner tilts his head in thought, and while doing so, produces a vaporizer from his pocket.

CAULDWELL: This thing started with lots of names and lots of talent, but now that we're further along and getting close, you know? Everyone up here means business and has made it through for a reason, including myself. With the way this tournament is formatted, it obviously favors certain skill sets over others and I think now, more than ever, you're gonna start to see some visible separation, the different levels.

Casually lifting the vape to his lips, Ernie takes a pull of CBD, sighing as he exhales a massive cloud into the air above him. Attendees are taken back and look toward security who haven't moved a muscle, allowing the presser to rage on.

PRESS PASS: Paul Garcia for MMAWeekly. Now, for the Iron King Pride Rules portion you'll be squaring off against your second Phoenix Wrestling Champion, that's two in a row, this time in the Main Event. Can y--

Noticing a few cockeyed stares..

CAULDWELL: It's CBD, simmer down, kids. I expected to be put through the gamut when I signed on, so this is one of the more exciting aspects for me. Putting yourself in unfamiliar territory and finding out how you stack up; win or lose, it's always an enlightening process. And I'm honored Slaine set us up with the Main Event. The fans will be primed and ready to go, I'm gonna do my best to deliver a fuckin' top shelf performance.

PRESS PASS: Pride Rules. Go.

Clearing his throat, Ernie tips his brim back and adjusts his hat.

CAULDWELL: Right? I been in a few, for sure. Suuuper stoked. Another one of those exciting aspects I was talkin' about, man. From jump, the Pride Rules prospect really piqued my interest and drew me in. I'm not gonna go through the rules, you should know'em by now, everyone's pretty much text booked'em out. And I'm not gonna negate Starling's preparation for this type of stip, even though I wholeheartedly believe the edge belongs to me. I'm one of those few individuals BAD ASS was referring to. I belong to an even shorter list who's held MMA and wrestling championships simultaneously. If there's a guy to beat in the Iron King tourney this year, you're lookin' at him. This is my jam, folks, and on the 28th you'll be leaving with raw ass optics. Bet.

Taking another rip from the vape..

PRESS PASS: That leads us to your opponent for Redemption 128, Phoenix Wrestling's own Rebirth Champion, the decorated, Anastasia Starling. Comments?

Savoring the flavor, Ernie smacks his lips before letting out another plume.

CAULDWELL: ...She's a beast. Stiff, stiff challenge. Which is more than I can say for the horseshit I was dealing with during the first two rounds. And I'm beyond good with that, truly. Again, this is what I came for. As you mentioned, she's holdin' the Rebirth title right now, she won PW's Rising Phoenix last year, plus a slew of other ridiculous tournament victories. I say ridiculous cause she's literally a tournament wrecking ball. Straight slay's the shit out of'em, and I'm not kidding you. On top of all that, during the last IKT run, she managed to claw her way to the semi-final's. And that last bit in particular makes Anastasia especially dangerous, in my opinion. She's made her intentions crystal clear, hasn't she? To make up for last year, to be crowned the very first Iron Queen. Those are some serious incentives for someone as strong willed as Starling, for sure. A fact that isn't lost on me. She's determined to get this done, and I got nothin' but respect for that. But, without barely a mention during this whole shindig though, I sure hope she's not resting too hard on her prior tournament accolades to see what trouble stands ahead.

Facetiously peering down at the Rebirth Champion.

PRESS PASS: Do you think that not only her experience with the Iron King, but the fact that she was able to make it so far last year serve as an advantage?


CAULDWELL: Not really. Sure, she's familiar, but that's about the extent of it I think. She's extremely talented, that's why she's successful, it's that simple. Especially considering the current landscape and who's left. Caged Glory reps are running strong right now, and there's a reason for that, you follow? It's hard to argue with the way shit is playing out. Let's not forget, I've put in tournament work too. Almost won THE tournament last year myself when I bit down on my mouthpiece and persevered through an entire night of pure bedlam during Caged Glory's Dragon's Way. Which I'm comin' back to win this year, by the way. Me and my boy just got done unifying our second set of straps in Japan. This is how I live my life. You name it, at some point, I've fuckin' done it.

Shrugs.

CAULDWELL: It's gonna be a sick fight, on a sick card. Can't wait til the 28th.

[carrickprice]

Carrick Price: “Fucks sake…”

The annoyed and, clearly, frustrated tones of an irishman’s voice cut through the press conference, drawing everyone’s attention onto him. Or, at least, the reporters. He was into the quarterfinals of the Iron King tournament now and one would think, given the fact that the field had been reduced to eight competitors, that his attitude might have improved some. It hadn’t. If anything it had gotten worse, and more combative, as the tournament had progressed.

Carrick Price: “Who the fuck let the queen of Soap Opera nonsense into this shite? Is Maury about to pop out from behind a curtain somewhere? Jesus Christ.”

Reporter: “Is there something you would like to address directly?”

Snorting, Carricks eyes locked onto the woman who had asked the question.

Carrick Price: “There’s plenty I’d like to address directly but for the sake of everyone elses time I won’t be rude like this cunt that just spent the last three and a half hours telling all of us her whole life’s story. Papa this. Papa that. Piss off nobody cares.”

Before the woman could further question him, Carrick held up his hand to indicate that he wasn’t yet done talking. Though it likely wasn’t his gesture, but rather the scowl that he had sent in her direction that had silenced her before anymore words could come out of her mouth.

Carrick Price: “See, this is the shite that I don’t understand about these pro wrestler types, ya know? Someone please explain to me what the fuck her life’s story has to do with whether or not she’s going to get her head caved in Ernest? Am I supposed to believe that because daddy didn’t hug her enough when she was a child that she’s a threat? Is it her name? Is it because she’s done a hundred million flips in her career or because she’s been able to hook a leg and lay on top of a lad or a lass for a few seconds? I promise ya that face isn’t pretty enough for any lad to be done with her in three short seconds.”

Not allowing any further questions from the woman who had initially asked him a question, Carrick instead pointed at a different reporter to get them to ask him something different. At least, thats what he was hoping for.

Reporter: “Given that you’re in the quarterfinals of this tournament, and that your opponent is a black belt in both Brazillian Jiu-Jitsu AND Judo. Are you finally going to take things more seriously than you have up to this point?”

Carrick Price: “Wait wait wait…”

A momentary pause passed as Carrick moved his hand to cover his mouth, trying desperately to hide his snicker. After a few more moments passed, Carrick managed to compose himself at least for the time being.

Carrick Price: “You mean to tell me that this Tyberius King lad has a black belt in both BJJ and Judo?”

The reporter nodded, affirming what Carrick had just stated.

Carrick Price: “What Wal-Mart did he buy that shite from?”

A few laughs could be heard around the room as Carrick pounded his fist off the table, amused.

Carrick Price: “Ya want me to believe that that fuckin lad right there..”

Carrick made a point to gesture in his direction.

Carrick Price: “Put in the time and effort to earn a black belt in BOTH of those art forms and he chose to be a professional wrestler? HA! Un-fucking-likely. But here in lies the problem with the world, and with social media today. Get on fuckin’ amazon and pay the right person a few dollars and suddenly anyone can claim they’re a black belt at anything. You know who he reminds me of, honestly? Amy Jo Smyth. That’s who he is. The next thing he’ll tell you is that he’s got an MBA, a doctorate in psychology, he’s an astronaut AND he’s discovered the cure for cancer all while solving the problems of every war torn nation on the globe. So let’s take a moment to be more realistic about Ty, shall we?”

Strumming his fingers on the tabletop, Carrick chewed his bottom lip for a moment, as though deciding just how much effort he should put in to picking his opponent apart verbally.

Carrick Price: “Tyberius King is a relatively average, moderately accomplished professional wrestler but the reality of the situation is that, in any moment where he had a legitimate opportunity to make something massive happen, he’s failed. The truth of the matter is he’s like a lost puppy dog, looking for someone to point him in the direction he needs to go. He’s got a habit of awkwardly chasing women far out of his league only to be shot down and, eventually, completely ignored by them. Strangely enough that’s a perfectly reasonable analogy for his wrestling career. Awkwardly he chases after things that are far out of his league only, in the end, to fall short in humiliating fashion. That happens again against me in the Iron King tournament. And it has nothing to do with the fact that I want it more. In fact..”

Shrugging his shoulders, Carrick pressed onward.

Carrick Price: “I really don’t give a fuck about this tournament. I don’t give a fuck about the Dragon’s Rage tournament I’ll be competing in shortly as well. Of the eight remaining competitors in this tournament I’m the best pound for pound fighter there is. That includes Bad Ass. That includes Ernest. And it sure as shite includes Ty. Because while he’s been floundering in the wrestling industry for God knows how long, I’ve been making my bones fighting actual, legitimate fighters who have dedicated their lives to this craft instead of to running and bouncing off ring ropes and hoping that someone stays still long enough to climb up to the top rope and belly flop on top of them.”

Unsure of whether Carrick had ever actually answered the question, the reporter repeated his initial question for the Irishman once more.

Reporter: “So… you are taking it more seriously?”

Carrick Price: “More seriously in that I think my opponent this round is a threat to me? Nah. More seriously in that I’ve invested this much time into this shite that I figure I might as well go ahead and win the whole damned thing now? Sure.”

A different reporter interjected himself yet again.

Reporter: “Some would argue that your attitude is unbecoming of a competitor in the Iron King tournament. And that your arrogance will be your downfall.”

Nodding his head, Carrick seemed to acknowledge that point of view as being a valid one.

Carrick Price: “Yeah, I imagine those sitting at home with their arteries clogging and hardening might think that from their armchairs. Shite, I imagine the other seven cunts at this table with me probably think that too. Let them. I’ve had nine professional fights now if you include the two victories I’ve achieved in this tournament. The only woman able to slow me down is someone VASTLY more talented than any of the other seven sitting here today. And it took every ounce of her soul to make that happen in a fight where I didn’t have my A game going. I’ve faced bigger. I’ve faced faster. I’ve faced lads and lasses who hit harder. I’ve trained with the best. There’s a reason that a lad like James Shark has called me the future of mixed martial arts. There’s a reason that a lad like Jason Jackson was willing to take a chance on me, a kid he’d never met before, and bring me into the Slaughterhouse family. There’s a reason that I’ve been named fighter of the night. Why I’ve received knockout of the nights, and submission of the night, and performance of the night, and fight of the night awards.”

Chuckling to himself, Carrick looked the reporter directly in the eye.

Carrick Price: “Some say that’s arrogance. I say it’s the facts speaking for themselves. Nine fights into my professional career and I’ve already accomplished more than most at this table could ever possibly hope to achieve in a lifetime. Certainly more than Ty has, or will, ever achieve. When we meet each other eye to eye, and that bell sounds. The game is already over. I’ve already won. It’s just a matter of putting down another little fish who found himself in a pond far too large for him. If that’s arrogance? So be it. But it doesn’t change that the end result is already guaranteed. It doesn’t change the fact that when the card for the semi finals is posted, my name will be on it and the name of Tyberius King will once again be associated with disappointment, with underperformance, and with shame. Ya can fuckin’ bet on that. Now piss off, the lot of ya. I’m done talkin’ to you.”

Kicking his feet up on the table, Carrick dropped his headphones over his ears and suddenly the sounds of the press conference, the reporters, and everyone else present was drowend out once more.

[wadjethotep]

We see all of the competitors who are still left in the Iron King tournament sitting in their designated spots. After a few moments of what seems like awkward silence Tyberius King pulls his microphone closer to him. Some reporters get anxious ready to be the one to get their question answered first. King lets out a breath and addresses the crowd before him.

“Hey everyone, I know this is supposed to be a press conference but tonight I’m going to do this more like a press release. I’m not going to take any questions but I am going answer any of them you were going to have anyway, trust me here. Please don’t take this as a sign of disrespect or anything like that. There’s just some things I need to address here and I feel like the best way to do that is just say my piece and then we can move on to what’s next. That cool?”

His final words were more of a hypothetical question but no one called him on it. Some of the reporters looked disappointed as they settled themselves back into their chairs. Others looked at him with eyes full of curiosity, wondering what exactly he had to say to all of them. King took a drink of water before speaking into the microphone again.

“First I just want to say that it’s an honor to make it to the quarterfinals of this tournament. Everyone who was in this from the beginning were top notch competitors and to make it this far means something. Now after my last match I’m sure that there’s plenty of you who feel like I shouldn’t be up here right now. That my opponent may have won the match. Split decisions are never an easy thing. I feel like the loser can feel like he was robbed and the winner can have some doubt about the validity of his victory. I watched the match plenty of times since that night, and it was close. It was damn close. Still I would like to think that the judges got the decision right and that I am here because I am the better competitor. If Rex ever wants a rematch I would be more than happy to comply. I think the world would be happy to see that again.”

King pauses for a moment before he moves on to the next subject.

“Now for my next opponent, Carrick has had an incredible showing in this tournament. We both share a split decision over Rex in what were wars of matches. His victory over Blythe last week was incredibly impressive. I mean it was over in just the blink of an eye. You can’t help but just be in awe of something like that.”

Ty ran a hand through his hair.

“When the card first came out and I saw I was facing him and I saw the stipulation I just nodded my head. Then the questions started rolling in. People asking if I was nervous or afraid at all. The answer is no, I’m excited. I’ve been saying for weeks now that this is the moment I have been waiting for. The chance to face an mma fighter and show just exactly what I am capable of and what people of my sport are capable of. Then you hear t though “what about the rules”?”

Ty moved his hands for theatrics and placed an emphasis on the words of the question which drew a few laughs from the reporters.

“My only reply is what about the rules? Am I familiar with Pride rules? Of course I am. Everyone used to watch that back in the day. The fights were some of the most exciting to ever happen. Then I heard it, people wondering if I was at a disadvantage because this was right in Carrick’s wheelhouse and nowhere near mine.”

Ty stopped for a moment and looked out at the crowd.

“Now all of you know about my black belt in BJJ. Even Carrick made a mention of it. Now I want you to think of that big family that is associated with Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. I think you all know who I’m talking about. I think we all remember the big hype and myth that was behind that name at the turn of the millennium. Then in May of 2000 it was a professional wrestler who ended that hype and put to bed that myth. In fact it was that same pro wrestler that would end up beating four members of that family. Did anyone expect him to win? No. That didn’t deter him though. He went ninety minutes in that fight until his opponent couldn’t come out of his corner. That is the mentality I am taking into this fight. You don’t have to believe in me and you don’t have to believe in pro wrestling, because I have enough belief in both of those to propel me to where I need to be.”

While it seemed Ty’s words were firing up he kept his steady cold and deliberate delivery.

“Now Carrick can criticize my black belts. The thing that gets me though is his belief that because of those that I wouldn’t have chosen professional wrestling. Now why is that? Yes I have a passion for BJJ and Judo but my passion is professional wrestling. It’s my first love and it’s something I want to be legitimized. That’s why I am here in this tournament. Cause just like that man I mentioned earlier I want to prove that pro wrestling is indeed strong.”

Ty’s words seemed to gain the approval of the pro wrestling enthusiast in the room with a number of nods.

“I know what is legal here. I know all about the stomps and the soccer kicks. The knees to the head of a grounded opponent. All the stuff that that most current mma promotions don’t allow in the sport. The things that made Pride one of the most exciting promotions to ever live. It still only pushes me that much more. This is an opportunity I never thought I would have. So Carrick can continue to have his I don’t care attitude. He can take shots at my personal life if he wants, that’s not what I’m here to do. He can act as if none of this matters. Something has to though right? Or else why would he be here? Unless he’s just getting off on belittling people at these press conferences. In the end I’m hoping that we both came here for a fight. So his ambitions can be whatever they are. I make sure everyone knows mine before I ever enter the ring. There is one thing I find peculiar though. Carrick mentioned my BJJ and Judo backgrounds after being asked but never once brought up my sambo background. I only bring this up because back in Pride there was a sambo fighter who was quite the competitor. He was like an emperor or something.”

Ty looked down at his future opponent as his last words were a bit condescending.

“It’s fine though. I know he probably thinks that I’m nothing. That I’m going to be just as easy as the last person he faced. I think the rest of us know however that this isn’t the case. I am here to be the Iron King. I am here to wear the crown and be of the people. That’s why I have been fighting so hard for this. Cause at the end of the day it’s just a title for some people and for others it’s much more than just recognition but empowerment of knowing what they can achieve when they put themselves in a situation that is out of their element and come through the other side battle worn but victorious.”

Ty focused on the crowd one more time.

“So the world can think what they want. They can count me out. Carrick can count me out. I haven’t come this far to just let this be taken from my hands easily. I am willing to go as far as I have to in that ring. That is who I am and that is what I do. The blood that runs through my heart belongs to professional wrestling. So it’s only fair to this sport that I put all of my heart into it. I thank you all for your time”.

With that King leaned back into his seat and waited for the press conference to be over.