Post by anthony on Sept 25, 2024 10:57:42 GMT -5
The camera fades in slowly on a dimly lit, abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Detroit. The floor is cracked and covered in dust, graffiti lines the walls, and rusted machinery lies forgotten in the corners. The atmosphere is grim, cold, and lifeless except for one single hanging lightbulb that swings slowly from the ceiling. The dull, yellow light casts long shadows across the floor, moving rhythmically like a pendulum. Beneath it, leaning casually against a rusted steel beam, is Anthony King. He’s wearing a black hoodie, the hood pulled low over his face, and the familiar smirk plays on his lips. His body is tense, like a coiled spring ready to explode into action. This is Anthony’s world. The streets. The place that raised him.
Anthony King: Welcome to Detroit, Tracy.
His voice is low, almost a whisper, but it cuts through the silence like a knife. He doesn’t move yet, just lets the words linger in the air as the camera zooms in closer.
Anthony King: This place? This is where I grew up. Where I learned the rules of survival. Where I learned that you don’t get anything unless you’re willing to bleed for it. Ain’t no handouts here, Tracy. No cameras, no fans clappin’ for you. This is where the weak get swallowed up and the strong come out on top. And this… this is where you’re comin’ to meet me. Think you ready for that?
Anthony finally pushes himself off the beam, stepping slowly under the light as it swings overhead, casting his face in and out of shadow. He begins to pace, his hands buried deep in his hoodie pockets, his gaze never leaving the camera.
Anthony King: You had it all once, didn’t you? Fame. Fortune. All the lights and attention you could ever dream of. They loved you. America’s sweetheart. A star. But the thing about stars, Tracy… they burn out. And once you fell from that sky, you hit hard, didn’t you?
He shakes his head, mock sympathy dripping from his voice.
Anthony King: You couldn’t handle it, could you? The pressure of all those eyes on you, watchin’ your every move. One bad decision after another, and then suddenly… they stopped watchin’. They turned their backs. You fell, and nobody cared enough to pick you up.
Anthony’s expression darkens, his eyes narrowing as he steps closer to the camera.
Anthony King: That’s what happened to you, right? You hit rock bottom. And now you think you’re gonna crawl your way back up by steppin’ into my world? The wrestling ring? Let me tell you something, Tracy… this ain’t Hollywood. This ain’t a movie where you can rewrite the ending to make yourself look good. This is the streets. And in the streets, when you fall, no one gives a damn about gettin’ you back up. It’s every man or in your case, every woman for themselves.
He stops pacing, now standing directly under the light, his face half-illuminated, his eyes cold and intense.
Anthony King: You took on this role to prove somethin’. Maybe to yourself. Maybe to the world. You’re method acting, right? Tryin’ to 'become' a wrestler before you go back to play one on the big screen. But Tracy, you ain’t just steppin’ into a role you’re steppin’ into a war zone. And I’ve been fightin’ my whole life just to survive. This is all I know. This ain’t a hobby for me, it’s life. So, when that bell rings on Friday night, I’m not just fightin’ you for a win. I’m fightin’ you because that’s all I’ve ever done. It’s all I know how to do.
His voice grows darker, more intense with every word, his frustration with Tracy’s approach to wrestling becoming more apparent.
Anthony King: You see, Tracy, I grew up fightin’. I didn’t have a choice. No one gave me love. No one gave me attention. So, I took it in the only way I knew how through my fists. The streets? They taught me everything. I learned that people don’t care about you until you make them. Until you make them respect you. And I earned that respect by breakin’ bones, by standin’ tall when everybody else fell.
He clenches his fists inside his hoodie pockets, the intensity in his voice rising as he relives the past he came from.
Anthony King: By 25, they were callin’ me the Street God. You know why? ‘Cause I owned the streets. I wasn’t just good at fightin’ I was the best. People bet on me, promoters lined up to get me on their cards because they knew I’d give them a show. Just like this Friday, Tracy. They want a show? I’m gonna give ‘em one. But you? You ain’t gonna like how this show ends.
Anthony steps closer to the camera now, leaning in slightly as if daring the viewer to look away. His voice drops lower, more threatening.
Anthony King: You think this is just another role you can play, another character to get people talkin’ about you again? Nah. This is real life. This is where I live. You can’t act your way outta this one, Tracy. And when we meet in that ring, I’m gonna make sure you understand that this ain’t a comeback story for you. It’s the end of the line.
The swinging light casts shadows over his face as he smirks, his confidence unwavering.
Anthony King: Last time on Impact, I came up short in the Championship Conquest. But if you think that means I’m gonna let you walk outta that ring with a win, you’re dead wrong. I made sure Nicky Douché didn’t walk away with that title either. I took out Avery Bitterman when it counted. See, I don’t play for second place. I don’t play to lose. And I know Nicky’s crew is watchin’, waitin’ to get their revenge, but first… first I gotta handle you.
He steps even closer to the camera, his face now fully illuminated, his eyes burning with focus and intent.
Anthony King: You wanted this, Tracy. You wanted to step into the ring, step into my world. Well, now you’re gonna get exactly what you asked for. You’re gonna find out what happens when you mess with someone who’s got nothin’ to lose and everything to prove. You’re gonna learn that when you step into the streets… you either fight to survive, or you get left behind. And Tracy… I’m leavin’ you behind.
Anthony pulls down his hood, his expression dead serious, his voice steady and calm now.
Anthony King: In Detroit, we don’t believe in happy endings. We believe in survival. And come Friday night… the Street God’s takin’ you to school. Lights out.
With that, Anthony turns his back to the camera and walks away into the darkness of the warehouse. The camera lingers on the lone, swinging lightbulb, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the cold, empty space, before it fades to black.
Anthony King: Welcome to Detroit, Tracy.
His voice is low, almost a whisper, but it cuts through the silence like a knife. He doesn’t move yet, just lets the words linger in the air as the camera zooms in closer.
Anthony King: This place? This is where I grew up. Where I learned the rules of survival. Where I learned that you don’t get anything unless you’re willing to bleed for it. Ain’t no handouts here, Tracy. No cameras, no fans clappin’ for you. This is where the weak get swallowed up and the strong come out on top. And this… this is where you’re comin’ to meet me. Think you ready for that?
Anthony finally pushes himself off the beam, stepping slowly under the light as it swings overhead, casting his face in and out of shadow. He begins to pace, his hands buried deep in his hoodie pockets, his gaze never leaving the camera.
Anthony King: You had it all once, didn’t you? Fame. Fortune. All the lights and attention you could ever dream of. They loved you. America’s sweetheart. A star. But the thing about stars, Tracy… they burn out. And once you fell from that sky, you hit hard, didn’t you?
He shakes his head, mock sympathy dripping from his voice.
Anthony King: You couldn’t handle it, could you? The pressure of all those eyes on you, watchin’ your every move. One bad decision after another, and then suddenly… they stopped watchin’. They turned their backs. You fell, and nobody cared enough to pick you up.
Anthony’s expression darkens, his eyes narrowing as he steps closer to the camera.
Anthony King: That’s what happened to you, right? You hit rock bottom. And now you think you’re gonna crawl your way back up by steppin’ into my world? The wrestling ring? Let me tell you something, Tracy… this ain’t Hollywood. This ain’t a movie where you can rewrite the ending to make yourself look good. This is the streets. And in the streets, when you fall, no one gives a damn about gettin’ you back up. It’s every man or in your case, every woman for themselves.
He stops pacing, now standing directly under the light, his face half-illuminated, his eyes cold and intense.
Anthony King: You took on this role to prove somethin’. Maybe to yourself. Maybe to the world. You’re method acting, right? Tryin’ to 'become' a wrestler before you go back to play one on the big screen. But Tracy, you ain’t just steppin’ into a role you’re steppin’ into a war zone. And I’ve been fightin’ my whole life just to survive. This is all I know. This ain’t a hobby for me, it’s life. So, when that bell rings on Friday night, I’m not just fightin’ you for a win. I’m fightin’ you because that’s all I’ve ever done. It’s all I know how to do.
His voice grows darker, more intense with every word, his frustration with Tracy’s approach to wrestling becoming more apparent.
Anthony King: You see, Tracy, I grew up fightin’. I didn’t have a choice. No one gave me love. No one gave me attention. So, I took it in the only way I knew how through my fists. The streets? They taught me everything. I learned that people don’t care about you until you make them. Until you make them respect you. And I earned that respect by breakin’ bones, by standin’ tall when everybody else fell.
He clenches his fists inside his hoodie pockets, the intensity in his voice rising as he relives the past he came from.
Anthony King: By 25, they were callin’ me the Street God. You know why? ‘Cause I owned the streets. I wasn’t just good at fightin’ I was the best. People bet on me, promoters lined up to get me on their cards because they knew I’d give them a show. Just like this Friday, Tracy. They want a show? I’m gonna give ‘em one. But you? You ain’t gonna like how this show ends.
Anthony steps closer to the camera now, leaning in slightly as if daring the viewer to look away. His voice drops lower, more threatening.
Anthony King: You think this is just another role you can play, another character to get people talkin’ about you again? Nah. This is real life. This is where I live. You can’t act your way outta this one, Tracy. And when we meet in that ring, I’m gonna make sure you understand that this ain’t a comeback story for you. It’s the end of the line.
The swinging light casts shadows over his face as he smirks, his confidence unwavering.
Anthony King: Last time on Impact, I came up short in the Championship Conquest. But if you think that means I’m gonna let you walk outta that ring with a win, you’re dead wrong. I made sure Nicky Douché didn’t walk away with that title either. I took out Avery Bitterman when it counted. See, I don’t play for second place. I don’t play to lose. And I know Nicky’s crew is watchin’, waitin’ to get their revenge, but first… first I gotta handle you.
He steps even closer to the camera, his face now fully illuminated, his eyes burning with focus and intent.
Anthony King: You wanted this, Tracy. You wanted to step into the ring, step into my world. Well, now you’re gonna get exactly what you asked for. You’re gonna find out what happens when you mess with someone who’s got nothin’ to lose and everything to prove. You’re gonna learn that when you step into the streets… you either fight to survive, or you get left behind. And Tracy… I’m leavin’ you behind.
Anthony pulls down his hood, his expression dead serious, his voice steady and calm now.
Anthony King: In Detroit, we don’t believe in happy endings. We believe in survival. And come Friday night… the Street God’s takin’ you to school. Lights out.
With that, Anthony turns his back to the camera and walks away into the darkness of the warehouse. The camera lingers on the lone, swinging lightbulb, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the cold, empty space, before it fades to black.