Post by George Duke on Apr 10, 2007 0:15:44 GMT -6
For roughly forty years, George Duke has lived as a wrestler. It's been in all parts of his life. His personal and financial life has suffered considerably because of this decision. His wife left him and took his only son with him. He's lived on bread and water, he's taken small side jobs on docks - just so he could continue wrestling. He's traveled the country with carnivals, wrestling all comers in a sideshow attraction. He cleaned up after elephants and scrubbed down the fat man. He's been to Europe, Japan, South America and even Africa - he's spilled blood on every inhabited continent. George wakes up with pain and groans every time he sits or stands up. He's fought in arenas and in mall parking lots. He's been getting older and knows he will never work for McMahon (though he's happier that way). George Duke has lived the dirty, poor, wandering lifestyle of a professional wrestler for his entire life. People often wonder why they never see the real George Duke - but they don't understand. When they see George prepare and train, when they see him step in the ring - they are seeing the real George Duke. Wrestling is what he does, but it's also who he is. He's a dying breed, but thats what makes him unique - that's what makes him great. He's fallen out with his family, and his few close friends are wrestlers. George Duke has had the fire burning in him all his life - and it hasn't burned out. It won't until the man is dead. If there is an afterlife, it'll burn there, too. George Duke's ghost will show up at Philadelphia arenas.This drive and determination has put him on top of the regional wrestling circuit - it has made him a living legend and the POW Valor Champion. He doesn't intend to lose it all, not to Big Ci - not to anybody. Whatever happens this week, George Duke won't be stopped.
George Duke has been wandering around the Ameristar Casino for a few hours. He stopped by to see them setting up the ring, he stopped by to game a bit. As cynical as he is, George still likes to hit the casino once in a while. He's not foolish, though. He only brings a certain amount of money with him. He came with $200, and he's lost it all - then won it back. He's halfway through losing it all again as he sits at a slot machine, a few seats over from a blue-haired old lady playing two slots at once. He speaks in his harsh gravel-tone, keeping his eyes fixed on the rotating fruit, occasionally feeding quarters into the machine.
"I've said a lot of harsh things about my opponent. However, I haven't said much about his in-ring ability. That's because I don't have much to say. There isn't much to praise, and there isn't much to tear him down about. He is a great talent, but he's not the best. He's in the top half of this company, though. This isn't going to be easy, but it will be fruitful. I know I have a challenge on my hands, and I know I can overcome it. Big Ci's big. He's tall and well built. He has a rich repertoire of holds which he uses affectively. He's not brainless and he's not a coward. What it all boils down to is - who is the better man? For all our differences, we're pretty evenly matched. It boils down to strategy and stamina. I'm a tough sonuvabitch, so you're dropping me without a helluva fight. You're best bet is pissing me off enough that I lose my head and get disqualified. That's the bad thing about the Valor Title... it'll change hands on a DQ. No matter, because I have my strategy. I'm sure you have yours. You're warned and you should know what to expect."
Duke feeds another quarter into the machine and mumbles to himself as the old woman next to him hits. He shakes it off and goes back to losing his money.
"As every match here has turned out to be, this is an important one. It isn't routine - it's important. I don't have any especially bad feelings toward you - but once again, there is a lot to be gained. The winner proves he is the better man, obviously - and he becomes the champion. That is all a given. However, through the course of this week, we've shot back and forth at each other - it's created something else hanging over the match. People are watching - it's not just a main event title match, it's also a legitimate contest between two determined fighters. People want to see who is better - but more so, they want to see whose dreams will be dashed. The loser loses a lot, and the winner gains a lot, more than a normal match-up. For this reason, I'll be going full force. I'll get the advantage any way I can - I'll cheat if I have to, but I won't get caught. Everything will be done to full force - you've been warned, Ci."
A buzzer sounds and George jumps. As he has been losing all his money, the woman next to him has hit again. In his frustration, he punches his machine. It topples backward and crashes to the floor, quarters spilling out of it. He looks around nervously - even if no one saw or heard, they'll be coming to help that old b*tch with her prize. Duke sprints over to the machine and scoops up all the change he can and blends in. He walks quietly out the door, his pants drooping dangerously low with the weight, jingling as he walks.
George Duke has been wandering around the Ameristar Casino for a few hours. He stopped by to see them setting up the ring, he stopped by to game a bit. As cynical as he is, George still likes to hit the casino once in a while. He's not foolish, though. He only brings a certain amount of money with him. He came with $200, and he's lost it all - then won it back. He's halfway through losing it all again as he sits at a slot machine, a few seats over from a blue-haired old lady playing two slots at once. He speaks in his harsh gravel-tone, keeping his eyes fixed on the rotating fruit, occasionally feeding quarters into the machine.
"I've said a lot of harsh things about my opponent. However, I haven't said much about his in-ring ability. That's because I don't have much to say. There isn't much to praise, and there isn't much to tear him down about. He is a great talent, but he's not the best. He's in the top half of this company, though. This isn't going to be easy, but it will be fruitful. I know I have a challenge on my hands, and I know I can overcome it. Big Ci's big. He's tall and well built. He has a rich repertoire of holds which he uses affectively. He's not brainless and he's not a coward. What it all boils down to is - who is the better man? For all our differences, we're pretty evenly matched. It boils down to strategy and stamina. I'm a tough sonuvabitch, so you're dropping me without a helluva fight. You're best bet is pissing me off enough that I lose my head and get disqualified. That's the bad thing about the Valor Title... it'll change hands on a DQ. No matter, because I have my strategy. I'm sure you have yours. You're warned and you should know what to expect."
Duke feeds another quarter into the machine and mumbles to himself as the old woman next to him hits. He shakes it off and goes back to losing his money.
"As every match here has turned out to be, this is an important one. It isn't routine - it's important. I don't have any especially bad feelings toward you - but once again, there is a lot to be gained. The winner proves he is the better man, obviously - and he becomes the champion. That is all a given. However, through the course of this week, we've shot back and forth at each other - it's created something else hanging over the match. People are watching - it's not just a main event title match, it's also a legitimate contest between two determined fighters. People want to see who is better - but more so, they want to see whose dreams will be dashed. The loser loses a lot, and the winner gains a lot, more than a normal match-up. For this reason, I'll be going full force. I'll get the advantage any way I can - I'll cheat if I have to, but I won't get caught. Everything will be done to full force - you've been warned, Ci."
A buzzer sounds and George jumps. As he has been losing all his money, the woman next to him has hit again. In his frustration, he punches his machine. It topples backward and crashes to the floor, quarters spilling out of it. He looks around nervously - even if no one saw or heard, they'll be coming to help that old b*tch with her prize. Duke sprints over to the machine and scoops up all the change he can and blends in. He walks quietly out the door, his pants drooping dangerously low with the weight, jingling as he walks.
