Post by Kaji Fireson on Mar 10, 2014 4:58:27 GMT -4
David Fireson: You don't have to do this you know. There's still time to turn around and walk away.
Isamu Suzuki: No. I've put this off for too long.
Isamu Suzuki, a young Japanese man dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt with a golden mask with wings on it, and David Fireson, a middle-aged Caucasian man in khakis and a t-shirt with the same mask, but in a design next to a cartoonish design of his own head, are standing outside. It is a fairly warm February afternoon. Others have sweat shirts as they walk by, but it's sunny out, so those that are used to colder temperatures (say, 30 degrees Fahrenheit at high altitudes with snow) would have little trouble going about town.
The pair is lingering outside a large building, only two stories high but stretched over a large area, taking up almost an entire block of Charlotte, North Carolina. They are looking up at the façade at the front of the gym. It is a large image, several times larger than life, of a man with no shirt (and no problems) with his well-muscled arms crossed over his chest and a cascade of blond hair flowing down over his shoulders to his back. The name of the facility is displayed in large bold letters roughly where his waist would be.
Feel the Blackburn
David Fireson: This is the place. Last chance to turn back.
Isamu shakes his head.
Isamu Suzuki: No. I will see this through.
Isamu takes a shaky deep breath, but he walks into the complex with his head held high.
Jordan Louttit: Alright, one more round, Kat.
Katsuro Suzuki: You wanna' lose another round that bad, huh?
Jordan laughs as he and Katsuro circle each other around an area made to simulate an MMA octagon. Jordan is a white man and Katsuro is Japanese, as the names might imply, but neither seems too concerned with dressing or acting appropriately for their respective cultures. Just from their hairstyles you can tell, which is good, because as they are fighting a mock-MMA bout, there's nothing else to their outfits but generic fight shorts, Jordan in blue and Katsuro in red. Most of Jordan's hair is black, but he sports a defiant streak of red that slants from the right side of his face back through his hair to end at the back left. Katsuro's hair is also naturally black, and he has a streak as well, though it goes the other way, and it is a bright purple color.
Katsuro charges Jordan with a big haymaker, but Jordan ducks it. He goes for a takedown, but Katsuro grabs Jordan's body (and hooks his leg around Jordan's leg) to keep Jordan from lifting him up. Jordan lets go of the lift to try and get some separation on Katsuro, but the act of letting go frees Katsuro to start pounding away on Jordan's midsection. Jordan's abdomen takes a beating, but he catches Katsuro's arm on one of the punches and yanks him over in an arm drag of sorts. Katsuro scrambles back to his feet, but as he's getting up, Jordan swoops in and goes for the takedown. Not able to guard against it this time, Jordan lifts him up and slams him to the mats before starting in on an armbar. Katsuro doesn't want any of that and pounds away at Jordan, trying to get him to back off. After a few moments of being pelted in the face, Jordan gets the message and releases him. Katsuro and Jordan both get to their feet and look ready to square off again until they hear a door open.
Katsuro Suzuki: Who's there?
Jordan Louttit: I dunno, but he sure as hell looks like you.
This draws a look of confusion from Katsuro as he looks up to see who it is. There are a few seconds where you can just see the gears turning in his head before he reaches the proper conclusion.
Katsuro Suzuki, under his breath: Otouto...
Jordan Louttit: What?
David Fireson: That's his little brother. Hadn't seen him in years.
Jordan’s eyes go wide.
Jordan Louttit: Man, really? What happened to make them go so long without seeing each other?
David Fireson: A bit of brainwashing.
Jordan raises his eyebrow at David as Katsuro bails out of the cage and hits the floor. He stands a few yards from Isamu, but is hesitant to go any further.
Isamu Suzuki: Onii-san...
Katsuro Suzuki: What are you doing here?
Isamu Suzuki: I’m here to get the truth about you.
Katsuro Suzuki: You don’t believe Mommy dearest?
Isamu shakes his head.
Isamu Suzuki: Not for a while now, nearly three years.
Katsuro Suzuki: And you would believe me because...?
: Because he's already reconciled with me and if your story matches mine, he's got corroborating data points.
Jordan's eyes dart quickly back to the door where a third Japanese person, this time a woman, appears in the doorway. Her hair is black and very tame, pulled back in a ponytail, but despite being dressed differently than both brothers, in an emerald green pant suit with a black blouse beneath and black heels, the facial resemblence is clear, to each brother.
Kimiko Suzuki: And since you and I have spoken since we left home and figured out who we really are--
Jordan Louttit: Wait, do you mean, you both realized who you are inside by talking to each other, or you each realized who you are inside, then talked to each other later and each discovered the true form of the other?
Kimiko raises an eyebrow at Jordan, then shrugs.
Kimiko Suzuki: Why can't it be both?
Jordan Louttit: Was it both?
Kimiko Suzuki: It was the latter, but why didn't you think it was possible for it to be both?
David chuckles.
David Fireson: Because that sort of efficiency in the English language is something that no native speaker accepts as possible?
Kimiko looks at Jordan with an expression of "...really?" and earns only a shrug with a sheepish but toothy grin as a response.
Kimiko Suzuki: Anyway, the point is that we found our individuality separately, then conferred once we were free from the tyrant what spawned us.
Kimiko has drawn up even with Isamu now and claps a hand on his shoulder, her arm looped around Isamu's shoulders and neck.
Kimiko Suzuki: But I'm not sure you have.
Isamu raises an eyebrow.
Isamu Suzuki: But I haven't lived with Okaasan for...well, for nearly three years. How can I have not found my purpose, or whatever?
Kimiko Suzuki: Because you've been hiding in the plummage of "Kiniro Fushichou." He's a better guardian than Mom, granted, but he's not perfect, and some would argue he's not even that good.
David can only shrug his shoulders and nod.
David Fireson: There's a broad in Georgia who wants me dead. At least I think she still wants me dead. She might have mellowed out and downgraded my bounty to "heavily maimed but alive."
Isamu Suzuki: Someone has a bounty out on you, sensei?
David snorts trying to choke back a laugh.
David Fireson: If she really wanted me dead, she'd just do it herself. But that's another story.
Kimiko Suzuki: Which is my point exactly, brother. You have spent the last several years in someone else's story. Always looking for guidance from David the way you did with Mother before him. You need to go out and find your own story, your own identity. Something other than "Noriko's lapdog" or "The American's Lackie."
Isamu Suzuki: Is that what they call me now?
Kimiko Suzuki: If they don't call you it, they're thinking it. When is the last time you did something without David involved?
Isamu furrows his brow as he starts to think, but Kimiko doesn't give him the chance.
Kimiko Suzuki: Exactly. Why haven't you struck out on your own? You've been training under David so long, you can probably make sushi rolls with your eyes closed.
Katsuro Suzuki: What does that have to do with wrestling?
Kimiko rolls her eyes.
Kimiko Suzuki: I'm saying that he's spent so much time under David's banner that only sushi chef training would take longer.
Isamu just looks shifty under the weight of Kimiko's stare and points.
Kimiko Suzuki: You don't need to get a new career. I just think it's time for you to spread your wings and fly on your own.
Despite what he's being told, Isamu's eyes go to David first. Kimiko sighs, but David shrugs.
David Fireson: I agree with her to a point, kid. If you still want to wrestle, there's only so much you can do at the Institute. You can't learn everything there is to learn in a lifetime of wrestling, let alone a lifetime of pretend practice wrestling. You've got to get in the ring with people that legitimately want to fuck you up in order to truly grow.
Isamu's brow is furrowed as he looks from Kimiko to Katsuro to David and back.
David Fireson: I can't make you leave.
Katsuro Suzuki: You can't?
David Fireson: Well I technically could, but that would defeat the purpose of Isamu finding his own way, wouldn't it?
Katsuro ponders this.
Isamu Suzuki: Well let's do this. I have a match for Rasslemania X to worry about first. If I'm going to return to wrestling and try to find myself--
Kimiko Suzuki: You know you don't HAVE to wrestle to explore your world, right?
Isamu Suzuki: Yeah, but wrestling is the only thing I know. Everything else was ingrained by Okaasan and I don't know what things she taught because it was right and what things she taught because it'd keep me at home.
Isamu Suzuki: But first things first. I have to get through Rasslemania before I can worry about anything else like that. I must pay tribute to the first and best organization I wrestled for and lay that part of my career to rest before I can move forward.
The scene, as you might have guessed from the five-star transition, has changed. No longer is Isamu in a strange gym, surrounded by faces both familiar and foreign. He has retreated back to a familiar sight for APW fans of his, the video recording room from the Golden Phoenix Institute. He is dressed much the same as he was before, though he has a plain t-shirt this time and has broken out his red and white two-tone trunks. He stands in front of the studio's green gradient backdrop, eyes locked on the camera.
Isamu Suzuki: Action Packed Wrestling, though I was only with you for a short time, I will be sorry to see you go. When I first decided to pursue professional wrestling, you let me in despite how green I was, and I very quickly became the APW Suicidal Champion. Through the green, through the mismatch of youthful respect on the brand called "Asylum," through the inexperience and pain and abuse from then Suicidal Champion Rico Casteel, you gave me a chance, and I was rewarded for taking that chance with the Suicidal Title.
Unfortunately, by hiring a 20-year-old you were taking risks, and one of them proved to be particularly risky when I just up and disappeared on you. I could apologize for that, but I could say I was sorry for a week and not be completely and sufficiently repentent, so I will skip over that. All the fans really need to know is that I was a flash in a pan, then left the pan, then came back, was even worse because I didn't flash in the pan, then left again.
Instead, let me pay tribute to you, APW. Let me pay tribute to the one company that has so far given me a chance by performing at your final show.
David Fireson, off screen: You know you're on night two's card, right?
Isamu Suzuki: Well yes, but it's meant to be seen as one big farewell, and I couldn't let it pass me by. I have no history or problems with Roy Speedee, but I will be doing my best to overcome you to make my final APW amtch a victory.
Sorry.
Isamu Suzuki: No. I've put this off for too long.
Isamu Suzuki, a young Japanese man dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt with a golden mask with wings on it, and David Fireson, a middle-aged Caucasian man in khakis and a t-shirt with the same mask, but in a design next to a cartoonish design of his own head, are standing outside. It is a fairly warm February afternoon. Others have sweat shirts as they walk by, but it's sunny out, so those that are used to colder temperatures (say, 30 degrees Fahrenheit at high altitudes with snow) would have little trouble going about town.
The pair is lingering outside a large building, only two stories high but stretched over a large area, taking up almost an entire block of Charlotte, North Carolina. They are looking up at the façade at the front of the gym. It is a large image, several times larger than life, of a man with no shirt (and no problems) with his well-muscled arms crossed over his chest and a cascade of blond hair flowing down over his shoulders to his back. The name of the facility is displayed in large bold letters roughly where his waist would be.
Feel the Blackburn
David Fireson: This is the place. Last chance to turn back.
Isamu shakes his head.
Isamu Suzuki: No. I will see this through.
Isamu takes a shaky deep breath, but he walks into the complex with his head held high.
* * * * *
Jordan Louttit: Alright, one more round, Kat.
Katsuro Suzuki: You wanna' lose another round that bad, huh?
Jordan laughs as he and Katsuro circle each other around an area made to simulate an MMA octagon. Jordan is a white man and Katsuro is Japanese, as the names might imply, but neither seems too concerned with dressing or acting appropriately for their respective cultures. Just from their hairstyles you can tell, which is good, because as they are fighting a mock-MMA bout, there's nothing else to their outfits but generic fight shorts, Jordan in blue and Katsuro in red. Most of Jordan's hair is black, but he sports a defiant streak of red that slants from the right side of his face back through his hair to end at the back left. Katsuro's hair is also naturally black, and he has a streak as well, though it goes the other way, and it is a bright purple color.
Katsuro charges Jordan with a big haymaker, but Jordan ducks it. He goes for a takedown, but Katsuro grabs Jordan's body (and hooks his leg around Jordan's leg) to keep Jordan from lifting him up. Jordan lets go of the lift to try and get some separation on Katsuro, but the act of letting go frees Katsuro to start pounding away on Jordan's midsection. Jordan's abdomen takes a beating, but he catches Katsuro's arm on one of the punches and yanks him over in an arm drag of sorts. Katsuro scrambles back to his feet, but as he's getting up, Jordan swoops in and goes for the takedown. Not able to guard against it this time, Jordan lifts him up and slams him to the mats before starting in on an armbar. Katsuro doesn't want any of that and pounds away at Jordan, trying to get him to back off. After a few moments of being pelted in the face, Jordan gets the message and releases him. Katsuro and Jordan both get to their feet and look ready to square off again until they hear a door open.
Katsuro Suzuki: Who's there?
Jordan Louttit: I dunno, but he sure as hell looks like you.
This draws a look of confusion from Katsuro as he looks up to see who it is. There are a few seconds where you can just see the gears turning in his head before he reaches the proper conclusion.
Katsuro Suzuki, under his breath: Otouto...
Jordan Louttit: What?
David Fireson: That's his little brother. Hadn't seen him in years.
Jordan’s eyes go wide.
Jordan Louttit: Man, really? What happened to make them go so long without seeing each other?
David Fireson: A bit of brainwashing.
Jordan raises his eyebrow at David as Katsuro bails out of the cage and hits the floor. He stands a few yards from Isamu, but is hesitant to go any further.
Isamu Suzuki: Onii-san...
Katsuro Suzuki: What are you doing here?
Isamu Suzuki: I’m here to get the truth about you.
Katsuro Suzuki: You don’t believe Mommy dearest?
Isamu shakes his head.
Isamu Suzuki: Not for a while now, nearly three years.
Katsuro Suzuki: And you would believe me because...?
: Because he's already reconciled with me and if your story matches mine, he's got corroborating data points.Jordan's eyes dart quickly back to the door where a third Japanese person, this time a woman, appears in the doorway. Her hair is black and very tame, pulled back in a ponytail, but despite being dressed differently than both brothers, in an emerald green pant suit with a black blouse beneath and black heels, the facial resemblence is clear, to each brother.
Kimiko Suzuki: And since you and I have spoken since we left home and figured out who we really are--
Jordan Louttit: Wait, do you mean, you both realized who you are inside by talking to each other, or you each realized who you are inside, then talked to each other later and each discovered the true form of the other?
Kimiko raises an eyebrow at Jordan, then shrugs.
Kimiko Suzuki: Why can't it be both?
Jordan Louttit: Was it both?
Kimiko Suzuki: It was the latter, but why didn't you think it was possible for it to be both?
David chuckles.
David Fireson: Because that sort of efficiency in the English language is something that no native speaker accepts as possible?
Kimiko looks at Jordan with an expression of "...really?" and earns only a shrug with a sheepish but toothy grin as a response.
Kimiko Suzuki: Anyway, the point is that we found our individuality separately, then conferred once we were free from the tyrant what spawned us.
Kimiko has drawn up even with Isamu now and claps a hand on his shoulder, her arm looped around Isamu's shoulders and neck.
Kimiko Suzuki: But I'm not sure you have.
Isamu raises an eyebrow.
Isamu Suzuki: But I haven't lived with Okaasan for...well, for nearly three years. How can I have not found my purpose, or whatever?
Kimiko Suzuki: Because you've been hiding in the plummage of "Kiniro Fushichou." He's a better guardian than Mom, granted, but he's not perfect, and some would argue he's not even that good.
David can only shrug his shoulders and nod.
David Fireson: There's a broad in Georgia who wants me dead. At least I think she still wants me dead. She might have mellowed out and downgraded my bounty to "heavily maimed but alive."
Isamu Suzuki: Someone has a bounty out on you, sensei?
David snorts trying to choke back a laugh.
David Fireson: If she really wanted me dead, she'd just do it herself. But that's another story.
Kimiko Suzuki: Which is my point exactly, brother. You have spent the last several years in someone else's story. Always looking for guidance from David the way you did with Mother before him. You need to go out and find your own story, your own identity. Something other than "Noriko's lapdog" or "The American's Lackie."
Isamu Suzuki: Is that what they call me now?
Kimiko Suzuki: If they don't call you it, they're thinking it. When is the last time you did something without David involved?
Isamu furrows his brow as he starts to think, but Kimiko doesn't give him the chance.
Kimiko Suzuki: Exactly. Why haven't you struck out on your own? You've been training under David so long, you can probably make sushi rolls with your eyes closed.
Katsuro Suzuki: What does that have to do with wrestling?
Kimiko rolls her eyes.
Kimiko Suzuki: I'm saying that he's spent so much time under David's banner that only sushi chef training would take longer.
Isamu just looks shifty under the weight of Kimiko's stare and points.
Kimiko Suzuki: You don't need to get a new career. I just think it's time for you to spread your wings and fly on your own.
Despite what he's being told, Isamu's eyes go to David first. Kimiko sighs, but David shrugs.
David Fireson: I agree with her to a point, kid. If you still want to wrestle, there's only so much you can do at the Institute. You can't learn everything there is to learn in a lifetime of wrestling, let alone a lifetime of pretend practice wrestling. You've got to get in the ring with people that legitimately want to fuck you up in order to truly grow.
Isamu's brow is furrowed as he looks from Kimiko to Katsuro to David and back.
David Fireson: I can't make you leave.
Katsuro Suzuki: You can't?
David Fireson: Well I technically could, but that would defeat the purpose of Isamu finding his own way, wouldn't it?
Katsuro ponders this.
Isamu Suzuki: Well let's do this. I have a match for Rasslemania X to worry about first. If I'm going to return to wrestling and try to find myself--
Kimiko Suzuki: You know you don't HAVE to wrestle to explore your world, right?
Isamu Suzuki: Yeah, but wrestling is the only thing I know. Everything else was ingrained by Okaasan and I don't know what things she taught because it was right and what things she taught because it'd keep me at home.
* * * * *
Isamu Suzuki: But first things first. I have to get through Rasslemania before I can worry about anything else like that. I must pay tribute to the first and best organization I wrestled for and lay that part of my career to rest before I can move forward.
The scene, as you might have guessed from the five-star transition, has changed. No longer is Isamu in a strange gym, surrounded by faces both familiar and foreign. He has retreated back to a familiar sight for APW fans of his, the video recording room from the Golden Phoenix Institute. He is dressed much the same as he was before, though he has a plain t-shirt this time and has broken out his red and white two-tone trunks. He stands in front of the studio's green gradient backdrop, eyes locked on the camera.
Isamu Suzuki: Action Packed Wrestling, though I was only with you for a short time, I will be sorry to see you go. When I first decided to pursue professional wrestling, you let me in despite how green I was, and I very quickly became the APW Suicidal Champion. Through the green, through the mismatch of youthful respect on the brand called "Asylum," through the inexperience and pain and abuse from then Suicidal Champion Rico Casteel, you gave me a chance, and I was rewarded for taking that chance with the Suicidal Title.
Unfortunately, by hiring a 20-year-old you were taking risks, and one of them proved to be particularly risky when I just up and disappeared on you. I could apologize for that, but I could say I was sorry for a week and not be completely and sufficiently repentent, so I will skip over that. All the fans really need to know is that I was a flash in a pan, then left the pan, then came back, was even worse because I didn't flash in the pan, then left again.
Instead, let me pay tribute to you, APW. Let me pay tribute to the one company that has so far given me a chance by performing at your final show.
David Fireson, off screen: You know you're on night two's card, right?
Isamu Suzuki: Well yes, but it's meant to be seen as one big farewell, and I couldn't let it pass me by. I have no history or problems with Roy Speedee, but I will be doing my best to overcome you to make my final APW amtch a victory.
Sorry.
