Post by bushido on Jun 16, 2012 22:22:50 GMT -6
Saturday, June 16, 2012...
One more shot has been given to The Internationals. One that they plan to take full advantage of. An Assault X match is something Bushido and Dragon know a little about. They've wrestled the world and many times were put in situations that favored their native superstars. The Internationals are not new to gimmick matches and although they would rather wrestle in serious Honor Rules Tag Team matches, they can make an exception this one night for one more match.
Bushido: Assault X...
Bushido comes onscreen as the camera pans down to his mid section. He's fastening his black belt as he seems to be training. The camera comes back up to his face.
Bushido: *speaks Japanese*
Subtitles: This is the type of matches the American audience cheer for. They wish to see us put our bodies on the line and wreck havoc on our limbs as we do whatever it takes to win. It sickens me that we must jump through your hoops to get back what was stolen from us. America would like to see us bow down to their champions but by the end of the night, being reborn will have special meaning to The Internationals.
Rising from the ashes is something we've done before and we'll proudly do again.
But to do this we must get by three teams. All less deserving to hold the titles Dragon and I have given a second wind to. Yet here we are having to deal with the likes of Criminal Intent.
Two criminals with no business here other than being a thorn in our sides.
But you must be used to sticking sharp things into peoples' sides, right? After all, you glorify prison life as if it were some sort of spiritual journey to greatness when in reality it's nothing but a disgrace and you should be ashamed of yourselves for calling yourselves wrestlers when you're barely decent human beings. Without us, you wouldn't be here and if you're the best Australia had to offer than that pissant, backwater country must have nothing of worth and should be stricken from the world like an unwanted step child.
Still, in your rough and tough demeanor there seems to be some sort of skill that works for you.
I guess being big, bad and stupid has it's advantages when you've learned to use what you've got behind bars. Two big lumberjacks like yourselves must be walking into this match thinking that size has it's advantages here but this match is one where brains are needed and brawns are shelved. You're too slow to even factor in this and soon you will see that what it takes to win around here is a set of specific skills acquired through years of training and not handcuff scars around your wrist that you proudly display when you should hide them away..
This here will be our night to yet again rise while you are sent back to that barred hell you call home.
You should thank us for giving you this opportunity. Bow down and kiss the feet of the ones that sent you an invitation here because without us you'd still be wearing that soap around your neck like a cross wishing for a savior.
Scene transitions from Bushido and his black belt to Bushido, his hands clasped behind him, walking slowly down a hike trail with Miranda by his side. They are silent towards one another as they enjoy a gentle stroll down memory lane.
Miranda: I can not believe it's been seven years since Dragon and I found you in that one promotion.
Bushido: *speaks Japanese*
Subtitles: Has it been that long?
Miranda: I know! *speaks Japanese*
Subtitles: It doesn't seem like it, does it?
Bushido: *speaks Japanese*
Subtitles: In those days time moved slow. I was trapped within myself bleeding out of every pore as I tried to find some recognition. We have come far since then, have we not?
Miranda: Oh yes. Been champions in federations all over the world. Kicked butt in nCw. What more could we ask for? You know... Besides more.
Miranda chuckles at her own unfunny joke as Bushido continues to remember the black days in his life. Back when he wrestled in brutalizing death matches for a little coin in his pocket. He smiles at Miranda as to not let her know about his worries as they continue to walk down the path, birds chirping their love songs at them.
Miranda: *speaks Japanese*
Subtitles: Seriously though, I remember that day like it was yesterday. Dragon had just hired me as his manager and was looking for a partner when I saw you in the local newspaper...
Miranda continues talking but Bushido eventually zones her out as he thinks back in time to a moment in his life he would much rather forget. At this point the scene transitions back to Bushido, shadow fighting as he jumps around throwing random strikes at an invisible opponent.
Bushido: *speaks Japanese*
Subtitles: The first thing Dragon and I noticed when we came to nCw were The Forgotten. Not the pair of assholes that run around like teenagers trapped in depression but the ones noone remembers. The ones that live with honor and respect. The ones like us.
We are the ones truly forgotten while the two of you are something people wish to forget.
It's amazing how we are called arrogant and hypocrites when you have someone like Spike Kane building himself up to be some sort of GOD. You are no extreme GOD. In fact that in itself is idiotic. The only thing you are is a false prophet hoping someone will believe the lies you yourself can't eat. You haven't been relevant for quite sometime and nobody wants to hear about you revolutionizing a company that could exist just fine without you. You want us to all hail but the only thing anybody can praise about you is that double d wonder you're marrying.
Without her you'd be nothing. Hell, with her you're still nothing.
Just an arrogant dick blowing smoke up his own ass too stupid to realize that nCw has passed him by and he is nothing but a legend that can't call it quits for his own good. That's probably why you've managed to rope Falcon into this "tag team". To use him to try and propel yourself towards ten pounds of gold. The both of you may be great. You may still have "it" but whatever you think you are we are better.
The only thing hard about suffering defeat at your hands is trying the rub your stink from our bodies.
Falcon is a man that I have some respect for. He understands the way of the warrior and would it not have been for him laughing at us just like everybody else did when we first came, we could be friends. Then again, I look at the friends he keeps and wonder if I would really be foolish enough to align myself with these so called legends. The answer is no. the only legendary thing about any of you is the fact that you were around when nobody who is better was. Now that nCw is riddled with great talent, you've all become a fading memory. The both of you aren't the only ones that can go extreme and losing to you means nothing as long as we win when it matters.
This weekend it matters and soon you wont.
We come back to Miranda and Bushido. She now has her arm around his as they enjoy the stroll. She's still talking but he's still not listening. Instead, he's remembering...
Thursday, June 16, 2005...
Bushido has his armed raised in the middle of a bloody ring. The bell is rung and the damaged body of Bushido stands alone in the wreckage of humanity that lies in the ring. He's bleeding from deep wounds as he scratches at deep burns searching for comfort. Seven years ago yet he looked older then than he does now. Probably the stress of wrestling matches that included the use of any weapon imaginable. From exploding rings to barbed wired ropes. The man was living a life that fed his demons.
Announcer: *speaks Japanese*
Subtitles: And the winner... The Dark BUSHIDO!
He raises his arms one more time before exiting the ring, leaving his five opponents for the night to be carted away by EMT's. As he's walking backstage, wiping the bloody sweat from his face, the lovely Miranda blocks his path.
Miranda: *speaks Japanese*
Subtitles: Can I have a moment of your time?
Bushido gives her the once over and enjoying her foreign looks he invites her backstage for a little one on one, if you know what I mean. Bushido closes the door behind them and then demands.
Bushido: *speak Japanese*
Subtitles: Take off your clothes!
Miranda: Excuse me?
Bushido: You get naked now.
His broken English causes her to hide her "goods" in a panic. He's slowly approaching her as she desperately tries to talk him down.
Miranda: *speaks Japanese*
Subtitles: We have a misunderstanding here. That's not why I wanted to see you.
Bushido stops his approach and then points to the door.
Bushido: Get... Out.
Miranda: Wait! *speaks Japanese*
Subtitles: If you give me a minute I can explain.
Bushido grabs her by the arm and drags her to the door. Once Bushido swings it open, Dragon is standing there. Suit and mask, smoking a cigar.
Dragon: Tienemos una problema, amigo?
Bushido looks at Dragon until he's startled back to the present by Miranda.
Miranda: Right?!
Bushido: What?
She's pulling on his arm now as she looks for an answer to a question that Bushido did not hear. Little does she know that that night she saved him. Something he can't repay her for... Ever.
Miranda: Remember how you tried to rape me?
Bushido: *speaks Japanese*
Subtitles: That's not what happened. You threw yourself at me.
Miranda: Like hell I did! Anyways, let's get back to the car, we have to pick up Dragon. Guess from where?
Bushido: Bar?
Miranda: Ding, ding, ding! You win the best prize of all.
Bushido knows he has. He won a friendship with Dragon, a loyal servant in Kesuke and the affection of Miranda. The Internationals stand for more than just a tag team.
Bushido: Team America... *speaks Japanese*
Subtitles: Two American pigs running around flashing their dongs in thongs and parading around like a pair of bigots. Because of you, America is devolved into a primitive state. One where it's okay to sexually molest your son's fiancee as long as it's all in good "family" fun. I wonder how many times Zelda got that "good game" from you but this is not about Gib's redneck approach to hick love.
This is about those pair of gold belts you wear around your waist.
The ones that we have breathed the breath of life into. Without us, your Tag Team division would have disappeared into nothingness. We fought long and hard to be crowned and when we finally arrived, we made sure there was a division for us to remain in. You are not to be credited for the sudden peak in curiosity towards a dying brand. It was us that got people to take notice. It was us that put together The International Invitational. It was us that brought teams from around the world and even motivated two hall of famers to pretend to be one.
You should be thanking us for all your recent success.
Without The Internationals. Gib would still be a background lapdog for Kelly while Simon would be giving blowjobs for guest spots in relevant wrestlers' promos. The two of you consider yourselves to be true American heroes but you fail to realize that every good hero needs a great villain to maintain interest. That's what we are.
You could not exist without us.
Though we are men of honor and great respect, you portray us to be nothing more than common criminals like Stephen and Cyrus. Though we are legends in our own right, you disgrace us by placing us in a lower tier to Spike and Falcon. Though we are the ones that should be cheered for, trash is thrown our way while Gib and Simon thrive thanks to their fans being nothing more than toothless pricks with only three letters in their entire vocabulary, U.S.A..
Team America is a joke and like the American comedy that shares their name, an unfunny one at that.
The Internationals, we've traveled around the world. In most places, our ideals are shared. Our beliefs are recognized. In most places we are the heroes while here we have to play the role of villain in order to get you to recognize our existence. This isn't a game to us and an Assault X match is something we can survive better than any of you. What do we have to offer? More than you would like to admit because without us...
There would be no you in tag team wrestling.
A limo pulls up to a random bar in Des Moines. Dragon steps into the back with two very attractive ladies. He managed to pick them up on the way out as he smiles underneath his mask, giving the thumbs up to Bushido and Miranda as he convinces the two drunk ladies to make out in front of them. Bushido is unamused while Miranda seems disgusted. Bushido stares at the man that came to him in the darkest of moments and brought him to the light. Bushido now sees what must be done. The Dark Bushido must be controlled and used at Reborn.
One more shot has been given to The Internationals. One that they plan to take full advantage of. An Assault X match is something Bushido and Dragon know a little about. They've wrestled the world and many times were put in situations that favored their native superstars. The Internationals are not new to gimmick matches and although they would rather wrestle in serious Honor Rules Tag Team matches, they can make an exception this one night for one more match.
Bushido: Assault X...
Bushido comes onscreen as the camera pans down to his mid section. He's fastening his black belt as he seems to be training. The camera comes back up to his face.
Bushido: *speaks Japanese*
Subtitles: This is the type of matches the American audience cheer for. They wish to see us put our bodies on the line and wreck havoc on our limbs as we do whatever it takes to win. It sickens me that we must jump through your hoops to get back what was stolen from us. America would like to see us bow down to their champions but by the end of the night, being reborn will have special meaning to The Internationals.
Rising from the ashes is something we've done before and we'll proudly do again.
But to do this we must get by three teams. All less deserving to hold the titles Dragon and I have given a second wind to. Yet here we are having to deal with the likes of Criminal Intent.
Two criminals with no business here other than being a thorn in our sides.
But you must be used to sticking sharp things into peoples' sides, right? After all, you glorify prison life as if it were some sort of spiritual journey to greatness when in reality it's nothing but a disgrace and you should be ashamed of yourselves for calling yourselves wrestlers when you're barely decent human beings. Without us, you wouldn't be here and if you're the best Australia had to offer than that pissant, backwater country must have nothing of worth and should be stricken from the world like an unwanted step child.
Still, in your rough and tough demeanor there seems to be some sort of skill that works for you.
I guess being big, bad and stupid has it's advantages when you've learned to use what you've got behind bars. Two big lumberjacks like yourselves must be walking into this match thinking that size has it's advantages here but this match is one where brains are needed and brawns are shelved. You're too slow to even factor in this and soon you will see that what it takes to win around here is a set of specific skills acquired through years of training and not handcuff scars around your wrist that you proudly display when you should hide them away..
This here will be our night to yet again rise while you are sent back to that barred hell you call home.
You should thank us for giving you this opportunity. Bow down and kiss the feet of the ones that sent you an invitation here because without us you'd still be wearing that soap around your neck like a cross wishing for a savior.
Scene transitions from Bushido and his black belt to Bushido, his hands clasped behind him, walking slowly down a hike trail with Miranda by his side. They are silent towards one another as they enjoy a gentle stroll down memory lane.
Miranda: I can not believe it's been seven years since Dragon and I found you in that one promotion.
Bushido: *speaks Japanese*
Subtitles: Has it been that long?
Miranda: I know! *speaks Japanese*
Subtitles: It doesn't seem like it, does it?
Bushido: *speaks Japanese*
Subtitles: In those days time moved slow. I was trapped within myself bleeding out of every pore as I tried to find some recognition. We have come far since then, have we not?
Miranda: Oh yes. Been champions in federations all over the world. Kicked butt in nCw. What more could we ask for? You know... Besides more.
Miranda chuckles at her own unfunny joke as Bushido continues to remember the black days in his life. Back when he wrestled in brutalizing death matches for a little coin in his pocket. He smiles at Miranda as to not let her know about his worries as they continue to walk down the path, birds chirping their love songs at them.
Miranda: *speaks Japanese*
Subtitles: Seriously though, I remember that day like it was yesterday. Dragon had just hired me as his manager and was looking for a partner when I saw you in the local newspaper...
Miranda continues talking but Bushido eventually zones her out as he thinks back in time to a moment in his life he would much rather forget. At this point the scene transitions back to Bushido, shadow fighting as he jumps around throwing random strikes at an invisible opponent.
Bushido: *speaks Japanese*
Subtitles: The first thing Dragon and I noticed when we came to nCw were The Forgotten. Not the pair of assholes that run around like teenagers trapped in depression but the ones noone remembers. The ones that live with honor and respect. The ones like us.
We are the ones truly forgotten while the two of you are something people wish to forget.
It's amazing how we are called arrogant and hypocrites when you have someone like Spike Kane building himself up to be some sort of GOD. You are no extreme GOD. In fact that in itself is idiotic. The only thing you are is a false prophet hoping someone will believe the lies you yourself can't eat. You haven't been relevant for quite sometime and nobody wants to hear about you revolutionizing a company that could exist just fine without you. You want us to all hail but the only thing anybody can praise about you is that double d wonder you're marrying.
Without her you'd be nothing. Hell, with her you're still nothing.
Just an arrogant dick blowing smoke up his own ass too stupid to realize that nCw has passed him by and he is nothing but a legend that can't call it quits for his own good. That's probably why you've managed to rope Falcon into this "tag team". To use him to try and propel yourself towards ten pounds of gold. The both of you may be great. You may still have "it" but whatever you think you are we are better.
The only thing hard about suffering defeat at your hands is trying the rub your stink from our bodies.
Falcon is a man that I have some respect for. He understands the way of the warrior and would it not have been for him laughing at us just like everybody else did when we first came, we could be friends. Then again, I look at the friends he keeps and wonder if I would really be foolish enough to align myself with these so called legends. The answer is no. the only legendary thing about any of you is the fact that you were around when nobody who is better was. Now that nCw is riddled with great talent, you've all become a fading memory. The both of you aren't the only ones that can go extreme and losing to you means nothing as long as we win when it matters.
This weekend it matters and soon you wont.
We come back to Miranda and Bushido. She now has her arm around his as they enjoy the stroll. She's still talking but he's still not listening. Instead, he's remembering...
Thursday, June 16, 2005...
Bushido has his armed raised in the middle of a bloody ring. The bell is rung and the damaged body of Bushido stands alone in the wreckage of humanity that lies in the ring. He's bleeding from deep wounds as he scratches at deep burns searching for comfort. Seven years ago yet he looked older then than he does now. Probably the stress of wrestling matches that included the use of any weapon imaginable. From exploding rings to barbed wired ropes. The man was living a life that fed his demons.
Announcer: *speaks Japanese*
Subtitles: And the winner... The Dark BUSHIDO!
He raises his arms one more time before exiting the ring, leaving his five opponents for the night to be carted away by EMT's. As he's walking backstage, wiping the bloody sweat from his face, the lovely Miranda blocks his path.
Miranda: *speaks Japanese*
Subtitles: Can I have a moment of your time?
Bushido gives her the once over and enjoying her foreign looks he invites her backstage for a little one on one, if you know what I mean. Bushido closes the door behind them and then demands.
Bushido: *speak Japanese*
Subtitles: Take off your clothes!
Miranda: Excuse me?
Bushido: You get naked now.
His broken English causes her to hide her "goods" in a panic. He's slowly approaching her as she desperately tries to talk him down.
Miranda: *speaks Japanese*
Subtitles: We have a misunderstanding here. That's not why I wanted to see you.
Bushido stops his approach and then points to the door.
Bushido: Get... Out.
Miranda: Wait! *speaks Japanese*
Subtitles: If you give me a minute I can explain.
Bushido grabs her by the arm and drags her to the door. Once Bushido swings it open, Dragon is standing there. Suit and mask, smoking a cigar.
Dragon: Tienemos una problema, amigo?
Bushido looks at Dragon until he's startled back to the present by Miranda.
Miranda: Right?!
Bushido: What?
She's pulling on his arm now as she looks for an answer to a question that Bushido did not hear. Little does she know that that night she saved him. Something he can't repay her for... Ever.
Miranda: Remember how you tried to rape me?
Bushido: *speaks Japanese*
Subtitles: That's not what happened. You threw yourself at me.
Miranda: Like hell I did! Anyways, let's get back to the car, we have to pick up Dragon. Guess from where?
Bushido: Bar?
Miranda: Ding, ding, ding! You win the best prize of all.
Bushido knows he has. He won a friendship with Dragon, a loyal servant in Kesuke and the affection of Miranda. The Internationals stand for more than just a tag team.
Bushido: Team America... *speaks Japanese*
Subtitles: Two American pigs running around flashing their dongs in thongs and parading around like a pair of bigots. Because of you, America is devolved into a primitive state. One where it's okay to sexually molest your son's fiancee as long as it's all in good "family" fun. I wonder how many times Zelda got that "good game" from you but this is not about Gib's redneck approach to hick love.
This is about those pair of gold belts you wear around your waist.
The ones that we have breathed the breath of life into. Without us, your Tag Team division would have disappeared into nothingness. We fought long and hard to be crowned and when we finally arrived, we made sure there was a division for us to remain in. You are not to be credited for the sudden peak in curiosity towards a dying brand. It was us that got people to take notice. It was us that put together The International Invitational. It was us that brought teams from around the world and even motivated two hall of famers to pretend to be one.
You should be thanking us for all your recent success.
Without The Internationals. Gib would still be a background lapdog for Kelly while Simon would be giving blowjobs for guest spots in relevant wrestlers' promos. The two of you consider yourselves to be true American heroes but you fail to realize that every good hero needs a great villain to maintain interest. That's what we are.
You could not exist without us.
Though we are men of honor and great respect, you portray us to be nothing more than common criminals like Stephen and Cyrus. Though we are legends in our own right, you disgrace us by placing us in a lower tier to Spike and Falcon. Though we are the ones that should be cheered for, trash is thrown our way while Gib and Simon thrive thanks to their fans being nothing more than toothless pricks with only three letters in their entire vocabulary, U.S.A..
Team America is a joke and like the American comedy that shares their name, an unfunny one at that.
The Internationals, we've traveled around the world. In most places, our ideals are shared. Our beliefs are recognized. In most places we are the heroes while here we have to play the role of villain in order to get you to recognize our existence. This isn't a game to us and an Assault X match is something we can survive better than any of you. What do we have to offer? More than you would like to admit because without us...
There would be no you in tag team wrestling.
A limo pulls up to a random bar in Des Moines. Dragon steps into the back with two very attractive ladies. He managed to pick them up on the way out as he smiles underneath his mask, giving the thumbs up to Bushido and Miranda as he convinces the two drunk ladies to make out in front of them. Bushido is unamused while Miranda seems disgusted. Bushido stares at the man that came to him in the darkest of moments and brought him to the light. Bushido now sees what must be done. The Dark Bushido must be controlled and used at Reborn.
