Post by "The Genius" James Davis on Apr 14, 2010 20:49:55 GMT -6
The scene opens to an office, papers scattered across the desk. James sits behind it, staring intently at a monitor. His chest is bare, he's wearing sweat pants, and has a white towel around his neck.
The match on screen is between two ladies and they throw each other around. After a few minutes, the referee becomes distracted and the dark haired woman pulls something from her tights. After a solid shot, the other woman falls flat.
James sits back, amazed and watches the pinfall.
"Hmm. There's something to be said for that one. Right after a dropkick! Clear enough head to know when to bring out the guns... It looks like someone knows what's good for business."
James stops the DVD and removes it, placing it in a plain black case with the label 'Suspense - April 2nd'. He picks up another black case and opens it, inserting the DVD into the monitor.
The match on the screen is of an indeterminate year, but it is definitely not NCW. The crowd is full of signs, written in Japanese. The fighters attack each other ferociously, chops galore.
The camera pulls back, showing James lean forward and squint.
After a few minutes, James sees something that makes him turn his head and wince.
He turns off the monitor.
"Jun Yoshiko. 'That Japanese Guy'."
James stands, pushing the chair in.
"I had made a mistake coming into NCW, things any rookie should have known better not to do. Now, your a good fighter, it took some time to drag your matches out of Japan.. this last one was a challenge. I had to pay some good money for it. It's been black-listed in America. Thank god for wrestling fans. Without them, I would never have found it."
"You've already made your mistake and that's okay. You've owned up to it. That's the first step. You've pledged to make up for it, take back what was broken. That's a good plan. The road to forgiveness will be hardship, but you know that. You've looked down that terrible path and still stride ahead, willing to put the past behind you and hope that others will as well. In my book, that makes you worth it. The fans, they won't fully understand your pain, your shame. They might not care to cheer for a man who took it a step too far. They might not care... even if it was an accident."
"You see, Yoshiko, I've studied the reels. I've been going over them, losing sleep, trying to piece together the events, trying to make some sense. What does it take to make it in NCW?"
James turns, showing his back, a few scars lattice his scapulas.
"Is it pain? I did my stint in Mexico, put myself through the tables, the barbed wire, the razors, the tacks.. I have been forged in pain! Is it pain that drives these men? Is it anguish in their souls? I've gone over hundreds of hours, I've seen them bleed. Some have embraced the pain, some whine about it. It's hard to make out if pain is what drives them. It's hard to determine if it's even a factor in some cases."
"But, I do admire your honor. Though you may think it lost, you retain more than a few shreds. I beat myself up, time and time again, for losses I swore I should have been wins. I've watched the replays, poured over every angle, looking for my mistakes. I analyze it, critique it, tear my mind apart trying to figure out where I went wrong. But I've had to change the way I look at my matches. And you have to look at life differently too. If I sit and mope over every loss, I'll get nowhere."
James sits on the edge of the desk, tossing the remote onto it, knocking some papers onto the floor.
"Bubba Dumplins. Good ole boy from Ken-tuck."
James smiles.
"I don't even know where to begin with you, pal. Am I supposed to believe you're anything more than some inbred hick? That you possess some level of intelligence beyond pig farmin' and backwoods justice? I'm not going to underestimate you, Bubba. I'm not going to call you out, bring your heritage into play, or make some degenerate comments about your sister. I'll treat you like you know what you're doing, you have the size to push folks around, and I have to respect that. If I don't, I might get something broken."
James stands and walks around the desk, pulling out the chair and sitting in it. He props his feet up on it, kicking over a few more papers.
"What is it going to take to be successful against you two? I'm going to have to watch my back, my first match makes that apparent. I've got my hands full with you two, I'll have to pull out all the stops."
"So, I have a match with you two, Triple Threat. I have yet to shine in a One-on-One and that's not a big concern. From what I've seen, you have to fight off the wolves to get at the meat. You have to kick a few dogs back to get to the prize. That's fine. I can do that. I have to split my attention, which irks me, but it's something that must be done. I'm put somewhere at the small end, size wise. Both of you are bigger than me. And you can can the jokes, fellas. I know I set that one up for the perverts.. But, is that what it takes to win? Is that what it takes to pull out a victory and have your hand raised? Do I have to be some 'Incredible Hulk' to get over?"
"No. I don't think so. And history proves it. How many champions have we seen be the underdog and get that victory? How many are unmatched in size only to fall to 'David'? Will I be 'David' in my upcoming match? Will I topple the 'Cornfed Goliath'? Will I outsmart the 'Bombed Bushido'? Only one way to figure that one out.."
"The Suspense is killing me."
The match on screen is between two ladies and they throw each other around. After a few minutes, the referee becomes distracted and the dark haired woman pulls something from her tights. After a solid shot, the other woman falls flat.
James sits back, amazed and watches the pinfall.
"Hmm. There's something to be said for that one. Right after a dropkick! Clear enough head to know when to bring out the guns... It looks like someone knows what's good for business."
James stops the DVD and removes it, placing it in a plain black case with the label 'Suspense - April 2nd'. He picks up another black case and opens it, inserting the DVD into the monitor.
The match on the screen is of an indeterminate year, but it is definitely not NCW. The crowd is full of signs, written in Japanese. The fighters attack each other ferociously, chops galore.
The camera pulls back, showing James lean forward and squint.
After a few minutes, James sees something that makes him turn his head and wince.
He turns off the monitor.
"Jun Yoshiko. 'That Japanese Guy'."
James stands, pushing the chair in.
"I had made a mistake coming into NCW, things any rookie should have known better not to do. Now, your a good fighter, it took some time to drag your matches out of Japan.. this last one was a challenge. I had to pay some good money for it. It's been black-listed in America. Thank god for wrestling fans. Without them, I would never have found it."
"You've already made your mistake and that's okay. You've owned up to it. That's the first step. You've pledged to make up for it, take back what was broken. That's a good plan. The road to forgiveness will be hardship, but you know that. You've looked down that terrible path and still stride ahead, willing to put the past behind you and hope that others will as well. In my book, that makes you worth it. The fans, they won't fully understand your pain, your shame. They might not care to cheer for a man who took it a step too far. They might not care... even if it was an accident."
"You see, Yoshiko, I've studied the reels. I've been going over them, losing sleep, trying to piece together the events, trying to make some sense. What does it take to make it in NCW?"
James turns, showing his back, a few scars lattice his scapulas.
"Is it pain? I did my stint in Mexico, put myself through the tables, the barbed wire, the razors, the tacks.. I have been forged in pain! Is it pain that drives these men? Is it anguish in their souls? I've gone over hundreds of hours, I've seen them bleed. Some have embraced the pain, some whine about it. It's hard to make out if pain is what drives them. It's hard to determine if it's even a factor in some cases."
"But, I do admire your honor. Though you may think it lost, you retain more than a few shreds. I beat myself up, time and time again, for losses I swore I should have been wins. I've watched the replays, poured over every angle, looking for my mistakes. I analyze it, critique it, tear my mind apart trying to figure out where I went wrong. But I've had to change the way I look at my matches. And you have to look at life differently too. If I sit and mope over every loss, I'll get nowhere."
James sits on the edge of the desk, tossing the remote onto it, knocking some papers onto the floor.
"Bubba Dumplins. Good ole boy from Ken-tuck."
James smiles.
"I don't even know where to begin with you, pal. Am I supposed to believe you're anything more than some inbred hick? That you possess some level of intelligence beyond pig farmin' and backwoods justice? I'm not going to underestimate you, Bubba. I'm not going to call you out, bring your heritage into play, or make some degenerate comments about your sister. I'll treat you like you know what you're doing, you have the size to push folks around, and I have to respect that. If I don't, I might get something broken."
James stands and walks around the desk, pulling out the chair and sitting in it. He props his feet up on it, kicking over a few more papers.
"What is it going to take to be successful against you two? I'm going to have to watch my back, my first match makes that apparent. I've got my hands full with you two, I'll have to pull out all the stops."
"So, I have a match with you two, Triple Threat. I have yet to shine in a One-on-One and that's not a big concern. From what I've seen, you have to fight off the wolves to get at the meat. You have to kick a few dogs back to get to the prize. That's fine. I can do that. I have to split my attention, which irks me, but it's something that must be done. I'm put somewhere at the small end, size wise. Both of you are bigger than me. And you can can the jokes, fellas. I know I set that one up for the perverts.. But, is that what it takes to win? Is that what it takes to pull out a victory and have your hand raised? Do I have to be some 'Incredible Hulk' to get over?"
"No. I don't think so. And history proves it. How many champions have we seen be the underdog and get that victory? How many are unmatched in size only to fall to 'David'? Will I be 'David' in my upcoming match? Will I topple the 'Cornfed Goliath'? Will I outsmart the 'Bombed Bushido'? Only one way to figure that one out.."
"The Suspense is killing me."