Post by George Duke on Apr 13, 2007 2:04:36 GMT -6
While not seriously injured, George has decided to take a full day to recover from his match-up with Big Ci. It wasn't so much the match itself, it was the events afterward. He is obviously not happy with his attackers, but he knows he'll have the chance to gain revenge (and a lot more) on at least one of them this week.
To make up for the lack of physical training today, Duke has decided to train mentally. The curtains are all closed and the apartment is nearly pitch black. The only source of light is the candle that sits the table in front of Duke. For an hour now, George has stared into the light, and he will continue until it is burned out. The air is thick and intense, and a stereo plays a variety of music in a revolving selection. The thunderous power of Wagner fills the room and grows louder as the camera approaches. Suddenly, the music grows quieter and more subdued.
George's eyes reflect the fire in front of him. He back hurts like Hell, but his attention is fixed on the candle. He speaks low, his voice harsh and grinding.
"As far as we can trace back, my family goes back to England. We were named Dukenfield at the time. This means that I am a distant cousin of fellow Philadelphia W.C. Fields. I couldn't be in better company. Part of the Dukenfield family was chased out of England due a grave-robbing accusation. They settled in Ireland, where they spread out. They married locals and sprang new generations. Their problems were known, so they married into other shunned clans. They married into relatives of Burke and Hare. My Great Grandmother was supposedly a descendant of Crom Dubh. The Great Crom Dubh ruled Ireland with an iron fist. He was bigger, stronger - and better than anyone else around. He had hounds from Hell and married a pixie. For years, they tried to oust him, and for years he struck them down. He stood as their champion, their overlord for decades. It wasn't until St. Patrick struck him down that his grip was loosened. The family grew and grew, including many thieves and criminals. When my father came to America, the officials at Ellis Island gave him the name 'Duke'. My mother's father was German and her mother was Polish-Russian. Each of them first generation. My Grandfather helped put Lenin in power, and distant relatives claim relation to Rasputin. Shawn Stevens - I come from generations of thieves, liars, cheaters and warlords - but we always come through. We always climb to the top. This week will be no different. The POW Heavyweight Championship is mine by divine right. Two sides of power and darkness come together to form George Duke - this title is his. I will take it, and I will destroy you for standing in my way.I am the last living decedent of Crom Dubh - and like him, I will rule the land with an Iron Fist. As champion, I get a lot of clout with the front office. I can hold sway over my opponents and my matches - not to mention my pay. Rest assured that when I am champion, I will do all I can to ruin everyone below me. Tito will regret ever giving this shot. I'll drive everyone away to the Northeast. The Midwest will be a baron wasteland - it'll close up. Then I will go home victorious."
Duke's gaze is still fixed on the candle. Aside from the Wagner-accompanied meditation, it lets his mind travel away from the welts on his arms - the result of an attack with a broom handle.
"I'm not going to let Shawn Stevens stand in my way. He is a very young man with a very young mind. You saw how I outsmarted Big Ci - imagine what I can do to someone as new to the game and ignorant as Stevens. First step is to form a strategy. I have a million, hehe. If one doesn't work, I'll try another - or maybe a combination of them all. All I have to do is keep the match at my pace - I'll stay in control. If I slow Stevens down, not only will his style be useless, my style will be at it's maximum. If I slow him down, he might lose his head - and he'll be so much more susceptible to deception. There are a million and one ways to beat Shawn Stevens - but can he beat George Duke? I highly doubt it. Experience and wisdom against youth and speed. We'll find out what this sport is all about this week. Spirit and methodical skill will triumph over flash and glamor."
Duke grins as his eyes narrow.
"That belt will look absolutely sensational around my waste, Stevens. Shine it up nice - kiss it goodbye. Be ready for a new era in this company - be ready for the beating of your life."
The camera pans away as the Wagner picks back up, even louder than before. George Duke stares into the melting light, preparing and planning - this could be the most important match of his life.
To make up for the lack of physical training today, Duke has decided to train mentally. The curtains are all closed and the apartment is nearly pitch black. The only source of light is the candle that sits the table in front of Duke. For an hour now, George has stared into the light, and he will continue until it is burned out. The air is thick and intense, and a stereo plays a variety of music in a revolving selection. The thunderous power of Wagner fills the room and grows louder as the camera approaches. Suddenly, the music grows quieter and more subdued.
George's eyes reflect the fire in front of him. He back hurts like Hell, but his attention is fixed on the candle. He speaks low, his voice harsh and grinding.
"As far as we can trace back, my family goes back to England. We were named Dukenfield at the time. This means that I am a distant cousin of fellow Philadelphia W.C. Fields. I couldn't be in better company. Part of the Dukenfield family was chased out of England due a grave-robbing accusation. They settled in Ireland, where they spread out. They married locals and sprang new generations. Their problems were known, so they married into other shunned clans. They married into relatives of Burke and Hare. My Great Grandmother was supposedly a descendant of Crom Dubh. The Great Crom Dubh ruled Ireland with an iron fist. He was bigger, stronger - and better than anyone else around. He had hounds from Hell and married a pixie. For years, they tried to oust him, and for years he struck them down. He stood as their champion, their overlord for decades. It wasn't until St. Patrick struck him down that his grip was loosened. The family grew and grew, including many thieves and criminals. When my father came to America, the officials at Ellis Island gave him the name 'Duke'. My mother's father was German and her mother was Polish-Russian. Each of them first generation. My Grandfather helped put Lenin in power, and distant relatives claim relation to Rasputin. Shawn Stevens - I come from generations of thieves, liars, cheaters and warlords - but we always come through. We always climb to the top. This week will be no different. The POW Heavyweight Championship is mine by divine right. Two sides of power and darkness come together to form George Duke - this title is his. I will take it, and I will destroy you for standing in my way.I am the last living decedent of Crom Dubh - and like him, I will rule the land with an Iron Fist. As champion, I get a lot of clout with the front office. I can hold sway over my opponents and my matches - not to mention my pay. Rest assured that when I am champion, I will do all I can to ruin everyone below me. Tito will regret ever giving this shot. I'll drive everyone away to the Northeast. The Midwest will be a baron wasteland - it'll close up. Then I will go home victorious."
Duke's gaze is still fixed on the candle. Aside from the Wagner-accompanied meditation, it lets his mind travel away from the welts on his arms - the result of an attack with a broom handle.
"I'm not going to let Shawn Stevens stand in my way. He is a very young man with a very young mind. You saw how I outsmarted Big Ci - imagine what I can do to someone as new to the game and ignorant as Stevens. First step is to form a strategy. I have a million, hehe. If one doesn't work, I'll try another - or maybe a combination of them all. All I have to do is keep the match at my pace - I'll stay in control. If I slow Stevens down, not only will his style be useless, my style will be at it's maximum. If I slow him down, he might lose his head - and he'll be so much more susceptible to deception. There are a million and one ways to beat Shawn Stevens - but can he beat George Duke? I highly doubt it. Experience and wisdom against youth and speed. We'll find out what this sport is all about this week. Spirit and methodical skill will triumph over flash and glamor."
Duke grins as his eyes narrow.
"That belt will look absolutely sensational around my waste, Stevens. Shine it up nice - kiss it goodbye. Be ready for a new era in this company - be ready for the beating of your life."
The camera pans away as the Wagner picks back up, even louder than before. George Duke stares into the melting light, preparing and planning - this could be the most important match of his life.
