To: Kyra Johnson Subject: Ultraviolent Championship
Oct 16, 2020 8:46:55 GMT -5
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Post by Mitch 'The Broken' Heart on Oct 16, 2020 8:46:55 GMT -5
Morning.
The sun shines over the city of Detroit, making the skyscrapers sparkle and even giving the rough parts of town a sort of freshness in the cool air.
Atop the roof of an apartment building that's seen better days, a heavily bandaged Mitch Heart stares into the camera.
"Hey, Johnson. Congratulations on keeping your belt at 100. I think you've made a pretty good point that you're a capable champion whether or not there's explicit bloodshed involved. But I know you and I know that belt. You're not the sort of fighter that likes it tame and that belt says right on the metal that it's meant to be won and carried by the most brutal motherfucker in this company. Which, right now, is you, at least on paper."
He rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck.
"I've had six matches in this company so far, by my count. Four wins and a draw, plus one loss. The draw was against an eight foot slab of muscle and rage that nobody's beat in singles competition yet. The loss was a match I didn't care about because I was more consumed with going after said eight foot slab of muscle and rage. I've won my last three straight matches. I'm here to build the future and I am tired of twiddling my thumbs."
Leaning forward, he huffed, his breath visible as a plume of steam.
"I've told you I'm coming for your title and now? Might as well make it official. Kyra Johnson, Ultraviolent Goddess? I, Mitch Heart- The Broken, The Ace of Hearts, The Heart-Pounder- officially am challenging you for the Ultraviolent Championship. I'll be waiting for your answer."
The sun shines over the city of Detroit, making the skyscrapers sparkle and even giving the rough parts of town a sort of freshness in the cool air.
Atop the roof of an apartment building that's seen better days, a heavily bandaged Mitch Heart stares into the camera.
"Hey, Johnson. Congratulations on keeping your belt at 100. I think you've made a pretty good point that you're a capable champion whether or not there's explicit bloodshed involved. But I know you and I know that belt. You're not the sort of fighter that likes it tame and that belt says right on the metal that it's meant to be won and carried by the most brutal motherfucker in this company. Which, right now, is you, at least on paper."
He rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck.
"I've had six matches in this company so far, by my count. Four wins and a draw, plus one loss. The draw was against an eight foot slab of muscle and rage that nobody's beat in singles competition yet. The loss was a match I didn't care about because I was more consumed with going after said eight foot slab of muscle and rage. I've won my last three straight matches. I'm here to build the future and I am tired of twiddling my thumbs."
Leaning forward, he huffed, his breath visible as a plume of steam.
"I've told you I'm coming for your title and now? Might as well make it official. Kyra Johnson, Ultraviolent Goddess? I, Mitch Heart- The Broken, The Ace of Hearts, The Heart-Pounder- officially am challenging you for the Ultraviolent Championship. I'll be waiting for your answer."