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| Date of RP: 02/02/03 Current Record: 9/0/3 Current Accomplishments: IWF Heavyweight Champion |
~~The glinting of gold in the sun might
make most people happy...make people know that they are indeed the
best, that they remain at the top of their game...even at the age KMD
is at. But, if we look a little closer, if we focus in on just
who and what KMD is, we find, after 4 months of battling it out against
men half his age, we find that his age really doesn't define him.
We find that, despite all of the attacks, despite all of the pain
and agony that he should have been put through, he's healthier than
most of them. Hell, he may be internally bleeding, but he comes
back for more. Is it because he can't feel it? No, not
hardly...in fact, he's addicted to the adrenalin that the pain that
should be there is pumping. It's all the benifits, without any of
the down-sides. Then again, he never could tell if he was
hurting, so it could also be killing him. Does he care?~~ VOICE: Hey, Champ...get your ass out of bed. ~~Hell no he doesn't care. He's the champion, should he? Yeah, he has the thing that tells the world he is the IW Heavyweight Champion...a belt that he's held once before, but things are different this time. There are no signs of KMD slowing down, there are no signs of KMD giving it all away, and there are no signs of any problems whatsoever. No family crisis, no internal struggles, no injuries...except the large bandage holding his brains in (joke). Things are better than they've ever been...and there is a whole swarm of young men after the gold that he straps around his waist. A whole swarm of upstarts ready to do anything to strip him of the coveted title. Problems? No, not for our champion.~~ VOICE: Blah, blah, blah. Come on, Mike. Head down to the gym and start without me. ~~Our champion has re-evaluated his position, has given it some long and hard thoughts...the past has seemingly righted itself, he is at peace. Hell, all he really wants to do is sleep in right now. Isn't that enough for a champion? Doesn't he deserve it?~~ VOICE: You get rusty, you lose. Get up, old man. ~~Yeah, he probably does deserve it.~~ VOICE: Just a few more hours...it's 7 A.M. ~~Of course he does...but he won't take it...or, more specifically, his son won't allow it.~~ VOICE: Which means you already lost an hour and a half of daylight. Get up and put on your running shoes. ~~The sun is glinting through the curtains of the sparsley furnished rooms. It's pretty nice, the sun...it's been a good 3 weeks in Pittsburgh without it...it's as if a new day were dawning...the sun is finally out, and the temperature has risen above the 20 degree F mark, hitting an all-time high for the year of 35F. The cold is far from over, but the warmth these past few days has shown us that there is indeed a light beyond all of this, that there is something to look forward to. Yeah, the sun is up, and the sun is shining, but the winter is still far from over, and there will be many days and nights were the cold will return with a fierceness. KMD rolls out of bed, his finely-tooled muscular body pushing itself out from the warm sheeted slumber with a pair of solid arms and legs. He stretches in the bed for a moment, wearing nothing but a pair of mesh shorts. There is no flab on this body...just pure natural muscled mass. He looks up at Mike, his son, with a bandage wrapped around his head.~~ KMD: Running? I hate running...I've done enough of that in my past. ~~Mike opens the closet and tosses a pair of sweatpants at Krev, as well as a shirt, sweatshirt, and a tosslecap.~~ MIKE: Where the hell are your socks? Do you still even own running shoes? ~~Krev blinks and points at a pile on the floor.~~ KMD: There should be some over there, and, yes, asshole, I still have running shoes. MIKE: For Chrissakes, pop, when was the last time you did laundry? ~~Krev shrugs, pulling the sweatpants over his legs.~~ KMD: I've been busy...you know...winnning the whole Heavyweight Championship and all. Speaking of titles, how are you coming along? ~~Mike kicks around the pile, but decides to go back to the closet. Eventually he finds a pair of socks, somewhere near the bottom of another pile inside the closet, and tosses them at KMD.~~ MIKE: I'm #3 for the TV title. I've made my intentions clear, but there still haven't been any bites. KMD: Are they afraid of you? MIKE: I dunno...that place has a turnover rate like McDonalds. There has been talk of the #1 contendor giving it up...Explode is his name. ~~Krev pulls on the socks.~~ KMD: So you could end up taking the title without competing in any more matches? ~~Mike shrugs as he finds the running shoes.~~ MIKE: I doubt that...the other guys in the division don't look like they're going to budge. Derrick Dynamite and Dean Man don't look like they're going to budge that easily. Maybe they'll get off their asses and put up their spots. Unless they really are afraid, of course. ~~Krev pulls on an old "KMD Gym" t-shirt and chuckles.~~ KMD: Fear... ~~Krev sniffs the air as he pulls on the running shoes.~~ KMD: The body can override any sensation. ~~KMD puts the sweatshirt on and zips it up. He looks at Mike.~~ KMD: Even a British one. ~~We slowly fade to black, KMD and Mike chuckling.~~ ~~We fade into a shot outside of KMD's Wrestling School. Mike and KMD, both in jogging gear and with backpacks strapped to their backs, trudge through the infrequent and half-melted lumps of snow along the sidewalk. They pause at the door, and Krev pulls a key out from around his neck and begins to fiddle with the door.~~ KMD: What time is it? MIKE: A little after 8, why? KMD: Good, that leaves us with at least another good hour and a half before the students show up. We're going to start out this morning with our lifting routines, and then maybe spar a bit in the ring as the students arrive. How is your chest feeling? ~~Krev slams a key into the door and unlocks it with a loud "CLINK". They step inside.~~ MIKE: Fine... KMD: Well, that's one of us then. That run damn near killed me. MIKE: We were jogging, Dad. ~~Krev walks over to the thermostat and kicks the heat up a little bit. He looks back at Mike as he turns around and takes off the sweatsuit.~~ KMD: Yeah, I know...I've been skimping on running lately. MIKE: I could have guessed that by the ammount of dust on them when I pulled them from the closet. ~~KMD shrugs.~~ KMD: Yeah, well now that it's time to stop running from my past and embrace it, I'll be doing a lot more actual running. No more of this drunk 6 days a week and passed out the 7th. I'm going to get myself back into my optimal prime...which means, as much as I hate it, running every morning and eating a little better. ~~Mike chuckles as he tosses his backpack into a locker and strips down to his pracice shorts and t-shirt.~~ MIKE: What? No more double Reubens fried with 2 pounds of butter with an extra helping of deep-fried steak fries and a whole heaping pile of gravy? KMD: And the chocolate milkshake afterwards...no more. I may look like a million bucks, but my digestive system feels like an out-of-date sewage treatment plant. It's only a matter of time before it meltsdown and splits at the seams...the last thing the new IWF Heavyweight Champion needs is love handles. ~~Krev opens the fridge next to the lockers and pulls out a cup.~~ MIKE: A milkshake? What's that, one last remnant? KMD: No, protein shake. I told you, I'm not screwing around this time...the best time to start is always now, so I figured that after the weekend, after a nice long break, I'd hit the gym harder than ever before...this is to rebuild what muscle that might have degreaded itself. MIKE: Does that mean no more beer? ~~Krev chugs the cup, and then looks up at Mike, putting the cup back down on the top of the minifridge.~~ KMD: Hell no...I'm still drinking beer. I wouldn't be a Pittsburghian without it. ~~Krev smiles as he begins rummaging through the backpack, pulling out finally the IWF Heavyweight title and sitting it happily on top of the fridge beside the emptied cup.~~ MIKE: You brought that with you? No wonder you were dragging ass...that thing must weigh at least a dozen pounds. KMD: It's already been stolen once, and I wouldn't doubt they'd try to do it again. It isn't leaving my sight. Yeah, it's just another piece of metal, but what kind of champ would I be if I let it carelessly slip through my fingers? I'm not carrying it around to brag...it's too much damn useless weight to do that...I'm carrying it around to keep an eye on it. And, based on how Ace treated my old Bad-Ass Title when he got ahold of it, to keep it safe from someone running over it. Damn idiot. ~~He admires it for a moment, and then turns back to Mike.~~ KMD: I just have to make sure that if someone really, really wants to run it over, I'm not wearing it at the time. MIKE: Yeah, good plan. ~~Mike sits down on a weight bench and looks up at Krev.~~ MIKE: You know they're going to do everything in their power to take it from you, right? Now that there is a champion, no one is going to be holding back anything...they'll do everything and anything they can to get a piece of your action. KMD: And I'm going to approach it how I always approached it...I'm going to let them try and take it from me. I'm confident, more confident than ever, that there is nothing short of getting fired from the IWF that will make me lose my title. What, with the House of Pain coming up, I've given them all something to chew on for a bit. It isn't a distraction so much as it is a way for me to really challenge those guys. They've given the IWF a lot so far, but not enough in my eyes. I will not be satisfied until I see each and everyone of them bleed skill. The HoP will change all of that. MIKE: Don't get too cocky, pops. You'll still have at least one title shot up on the line before the PPV. ~~Mike pulls on a lifting belt and straps on a pair of lifting gloves. Krev loads plates onto the bar.~~ KMD: When theres cause for me to be concerened about that, I'll be concerned. Until then, they...all of them...are going to have to show me that they are worthy of concern. Ebdon tried, Ebdon failed...but he's coming around quite nicely, if I do say so. Quite nicely indeed. ~~We slowly fade to black as Mike lays down, inhales deeply, and grasps the bar.~~ |
