Title: A Night at the Museum
Featuring: KC3
Date: January 4th, 2019
Location: The Met, New York City
Show: Evolution 38



The pristine white walls are adorned with some of the finest art know to man. On the walls are paintings by many of the modern masters. Directly in front of the camera, Fragment 2 for Composition VII by Wassily Kandinsky hangs on the far wall. The silence within the building is broken by the sound of footsteps coming closer. The camera pans to the right, bringing a pair of feet clad in Testoni men’s dress shoes into view. The camera pulls back, revealing an impeccably dressed KC3 walking down the hallway, wearing a tailored Dormeuil Vanquish II suit.

[Voiceover]: “At two million square feet, it's impossible to see everything the Met has to offer in just one day. Fortunately for those of you watching this at home, the most important thing here in the Metropolitan Museum of Art is standing here before your very eyes. The World Class Wrestling Association Lightweight Champion… “The Next Generation God”… K. Carlton Davison III… KC3.”

KC3 continues walking until he stops directly in front of the camera. He unbuttons his suit jacket and the WCWA Lightweight Championship is wrapped around his waist. He looks directly into the camera, and takes his time before finally addressing it.

"I'm fully aware of the fact that I sound like a broken record to most of you. After much rumination, I have made the decision that it's time to change the narrative from when I first stepped foot here in the hallowed hallways of the Championship Wrestling Federation. Do you remember what I told you? I don't believe you forgotten. Don't get me wrong. I am not giving you ignoramuses any sort of credit. To be quite honest, none of you deserve that kind of credit. I know you have not forgotten because I have made it a point to tell you each and every time I have appeared in front of these cameras. I have said since day one, that I, “The Next Generation God” K. Carlton Davison III, am a commodity. This right here…"

Davison smirks as he taps the WCWA Lightweight Championship with his hand.

"...this Championship right here is nothing more 15 lb of gold that serves as irrefutable evidence that I am everything I have said I am. I am the type of man who goes out and tells the world his intentions. Some people call me and loud mouth. Others refer to me as braggadocious. Most commonly, people say that I am egotistical. They say that I'm full of myself. The world class wrestling Association lightweight championship is my proof that my words do not come from a place of ego or of pride. This championship shows the world that my words are not talk. The words of the Next Generation God are gospel."

"I am a living, breathing piece of art. I am an Adonis. Had I lived in ancient Rome, David would have been sculpting statues of me. Michelangelo would have used my likeness atop the Sistine Chapel. I not only represent the finest things in life, I am the finest thing in life.

Davison walks down the hallway a bit, stopping in front of a painting which he stops and puts his hand out, motioning towards.

"Much like DaVinci's work The Baptism of Christ, people look at me and they can feel the endorphins kick in as they behold the aesthetic pleasure the vision of my body gives them. Still, like the unwashed masses tend to do, they take the time to see what is in front of them. They fail to realize the hours, days, weeks and so on and so forth that goes into keeping up and maintaining perfection."

"It is truly a shame, that people don't appreciate the true value that I bring to a promotion. My value to this company is so diminished that I heard one of the executives saying that my victory over Impulse and the others in that match where I won my championship was…"

Davison pause is a moment for effect.

"…an upset. Furthermore, I was announced for the Modern Warfare tournament. That didn't last long. Did it? They decided to remove me to make room for other talent. Now, there's Talent such as impulse in the Modern Warfare tournament. Yeah... Impulse. You know, the very same man who I pinned in the middle of the ying to take this championship for myself. The front office has made it abundantly clear that they have no true sense of my worth that they place someone such as Impulse as more important that myself."

KC3 takes his handkerchief out of his pocket and wipes his brow, before carefully placing it back where he got it.

"In a rare stroke of brilliance, the front office has given me a chance to prove my worth. Even more surprisingly, it doesn't involve carrying no name, no Talent wannabe. This time, it involves facing a man, who is generally respected, a man who is generally feared, amen who's about as predictable as a high bounce ball in a spinning room. He is a man of many names. None of which, oddly enough, Inspire any of the fear associated with the man himself. The Messiah Mariah, the knight in burlap, the master of the Hungarian reach-around. And perhaps, the only important game on his resume CWF hall-of-famer. That man is Ataxia."

"I'm willing to bet the Jon Stewart or whoever it is in the front office the book this match figured this would be a great way to shut me up. It's not going down like that. I have ascended from being merely a commodity. I have risen to the next level. Unlike that bag headed freak, I have actual redeeming qualities. Acting like some mentally imbalanced window licker is not the kind of person you want your children looking up to. As it is, we already have that tragically misguided little imp, Chloe Hawkhurst still... "

Davison wipes away a fame tear.

"still looking up to Mia rain. She looks up to Loki Synn like she's some kind of role model. And that's the problem with the youth of this country. That right there is why this country is in the state it is in. It is because we have children looking up to living, breathing cartoon characters. It is because we taught our children that everyone is special and give them participation trophies. It is because our children aren't looking up to men like me."

"If you're on his good side, Ataxia is generally a nice guy. For the record, I do recognize the gravity of the word “if” in that sentence. I'm not a nice guy. I am self-professed asshole. In this industry, being an asshole has value. We all know this isn't some kind of charity. You have to step on some toes to get ahead in this business. You have to go to extremes. That's just the nature of the beast."

Davison gives a sly smile to camera, obviously believing everything that is coming out of his mouth.

"I once overheard a conversation about myself. It was a very insightful conversation for me to hear. I can't remember what company I was working for, not that it matters. Two of the boys in the back were having a conversation about me. One of the men sent to the other something about how I didn't know where to draw the line. I mean, Stevie Wonder could see that shit. But the answer, that the man received, was the smartest thing I've ever heard anyone say about myself. “Oh, he knows where to draw the line. The problem is that he draws a line and then blatantly steps over it.” Truer words have never been spoken."

Davison begins walking once again, continuing on as if he is the only person in the world.

"I don't know where Ataxia has been hiding. I don't care if he's been in the Shadow Realm, the Upside Down, or he escaped from Quan Chi down there in the Netherrealm. What matters is that he's here now. What matters is that I recognized him for what he is."

Davison stops once again, this time in between paintings, as opposed to pausing in front of a particular one.

"While standing here amongst the works of DaVinci, Caravaggio and Vasari, the untrained eye can see how the next Generation God fits in with these masterpieces. The thing about Ataxia is but he's a piece of work too. The thing about Ataxia is that he's not even an abstract piece. He reminds me more of something like a work by Jackson Pollock. Where some people see art, others see the work of a monkey flinging its own shit against the wall. I am one of the latter."

"Watching Ataxia is like watching Disasterpiece Theater. While I will admit Ataxia is good at playing mind games, those only work on the mentally weak. Not only am I mentally Superior to you in every way, I am stronger than you in every way mentally and physically."

KC3 points at his brain.

"We all remember. But, do you remember, Ataxia? Do you remember the last match you had with Dorian Hawkhurst? That one where you lost your impact championship? You showed the world how weak you are. You fell to mind games. You didn't just fall to mind games. You fell to mind games performed by a man with a fourth grade education. He still has Chloe check under his bed every night for the boogeyman. And that was the man who outwitted you.

Davison shakes his head disapprovingly.

"If you will allow yourself to be defeated by that caliber of men, a mere mortal, and you have given me absolutely and unequivocally no reason that I should be concerned."

"Ataxia, credit where credit is due, you are, rather you were, one of the industry's best. There was a time when the mention of your name would make Champions clutch their titles a little bit tighter knowing that their time was almost up. There was a time when your name would cause everyone else in the locker room to reconsider their career choices. That time still exists, I will be the son that vanquishes is such a terrible night."

" I want to be firm with you. I'm not doing this to make my name off of you. I already have a name. I already have a reputation. I take my job as a role model very seriously. When people see me oh, they want what I have. I am the American dream. I don't have to worry about what I need, and I have everything that I want. I've got it all. I've got the bank account. I've got the Mansion. I've got the car. I've got the wife. I've got the life."

”The Next Generation God” points at the camera.

"What do you have? You've lost your girl. You've lost that aura of mystery and the ability to inspire fear. You're walking around with that sack on your head looking like the last piece of coal that Santa forgot to give away. You want this, boy? You want to beat me. And I know that last one is a statement not a question. The problem is you don't deserve the dream. You don't deserve to be breathing my air let alone sharing the ring with me. You deserve nothing more than to be picking gum off the bottoms of the seats in the arena. You are so ashamed that you can't even show your face."

Davison turns his hand and now points at himself.

"I am better than you in each and every way imaginable. I cannot save that enough. You can try whatever Shenanigans you want we face each other. The fact of the matter is that when this is all said and done, and the dust settles, it will be me the Casey 3 that is standing in the rain with his arm held in the air in Victory. You, you're just another guy. I'm not going to be beaten by just another guy because when you’re God, you don't have to break the rules. You make them!!!"

Davison waves his hand dismissively towards the camera before turning a down a corridor to another part of the museum.



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