Post by A.C. Smith on Oct 27, 2012 17:23:58 GMT -4
Our scene opens today in what appears to be a beautiful, serene park. It’s a clear fall day, and a fountain is shooting pristine water out of every jet into a large pond. We hear birds chirping in the background, and as the camera pans down, we see a stone with a plaque on it that contains an inscription in Japanese.
Unless you’re fluent in the language, you probably can’t decipher it on your own. Fortunately, we have an interpreter, one who speaks from off-camera in a somber voice that contradicts everything we’ve taken in these past few moments.
Voice: “At 11:02 A.M., August 9, 1945, an atomic bomb exploded 500 meters above this spot. The black stone monolith marks the hypocenter. The fierce blast wind, heat rays reaching several thousand degrees and deadly radiation generated by the explosion crushed, burned, and killed everything in sight and reduced this entire area to a barren field of rubble.
About one-third of Nagasaki City was destroyed and 150,000 people killed or injured and it was said at the time that this area would be devoid of vegetation for 75 years. Now, the hypocenter remains as an international peace park and a symbol of the aspiration for world harmony.”
The camera zooms out, and we see the stoic disposition belonging only to one man: The Big Apple Asskicker, A.C. Smith. He’s sitting on a shelf bordering the fountain, and at times it appears stray drops of water from the jets gently strike his back.
Smith was first seen wearing sunglasses, but he takes them off as the camera focuses on him. He wipes the shades off as his eyes adjust to the light, and he puts them on his lap before focusing his eyes on the camera and opening his mouth to speak.
A.C.: “There are a lot of things fascinating about this area and the tragedy and rebuilding its seen. The strange thing is, and most people don’t know this, is that everything that happened on a hot summer morning in 1945 could have been completely avoided.
After the first atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima, the United States government told the Japanese, ‘Look, we have a second bomb. Either surrender, or we drop it.’ However, in one of the dumbest moves in the history of warfare, Japan hesitated, and some outwardly said, ‘Keep fighting, they’re bluffing.’ Needless to say, Truman wasn’t.”
Smith shakes his head, taking extra time to absorb his surroundings before continuing.
A.C.: “When Fat Man, the second A-bomb, blew up over Nagasaki, very close to where we are right now, it marked the official end to the second great conflict. Still, the tide of the war had gone against Japan and the Axis Powers for years. The only question for the Allies was, what was the best way to force a surrender? Was it an all-out invasion of Tokyo, which would have been infinitely bloodier than D-Day in Europe a year earlier? Or was it the dropping of the two bombs?
Either way, Japan was GOING to lose the war. The cause was hopeless ever since the U.S. Navy made headway with the island-hopping strategy, and Russia finally declaring war and capturing Manchuria didn’t help.
My point is, there was no scenario where Japan won the war once Germany and Italy fell on the European front. And similar to the plight of the Japanese is that of Nick Watson, a guy who has no momentum heading into the three-way for the Xtreme Championship at One Night in Hell, yet continues to treat himself as if he’s not just going to win the match, but that its outcome is going to be hand-delivered to him on a silver platter because he’s, ahem, the ‘Sensational One.’
In case I haven’t made it clear enough, I caught what Watson had to say earlier this week. And it took every ounce of restraint in my body to not laugh so hard my sides ached. See, for far too long, Nick Watson has talked one of the biggest games in Action Packed Wrestling. I don’t hate the guy, far from it, but that’s the truth. Also true is that, if you’re going to do what Watson’s done, you need to be able to back it up from bell to bell, where it matters the most. And the facts are that he’s simply not able to do that on the biggest stages.”
Many men in Smith’s position would have said what just came out of his mouth in a condescending manner. However, as usual with the Big Apple Asskicker, Smith’s tones are measured; decisive, but grounded in logic and reality.
A.C.: “The moment I knew I’d gotten into Nick’s head was when he tried to be all high and mighty about me deciding to visit Hiroshima and Nagasaki this week. Anyone saying I’m being narrow-minded in doing so is missing the mark completely. On the contrary, I’m taking advantage of an experience that’s available to every single APW Megastar that comes to Japan this week. As I predicted, I’m one of a select few that actually chose to make the trip and broaden myself. If Nick Watson has a problem with that, he can stop trying to slum for a free bed somewhere, get his head out of his ass, and speak to me about it in person like a real man.
But no. Instead, he’s comfortable putting himself in a very dangerous predicament. He all but guaranteed that he’d walk out of the Tokyo Dome this weekend with the Xtreme Championship, which flies in the face of every conceivable fact about this match. By SAYING he’s going to win a title without actually, you know, WORKING for it, he’s beginning to resemble his old buddy Michael Harris, who pretty much did the exact same thing only to flake when he realized that there was a 6’8”, 275-pound roadblock standing in his way.
Nick Watson did all he could to vanquish Harris. Instead, it took every ounce of his strength Watson had to pin him on just a few isolated occurrences. You guys remember what happened when Harris and I locked up just a few short weeks ago? I didn’t just beat Michael Harris. I DESTROYED him. I took everything Harris had used to build himself up over these past few months and used it to beat his brains in.
When I came off the top rope with the big splash, which I don’t do often, I made a statement to Evan Harrison, who had every chance to stop the beating but wisely chose to hang back. And when I landed, I didn’t break one of Harris’s ribs, or bruise his sternum, or bust him open. I broke HIM as a competitor. That was the last time Michael Harris will ever be seen in an APW ring. Evan Harrison didn’t send him running with his tail between his legs, and Nick Watson sure as hell didn’t, either. It was ME.
That HAS to be eating at Watson as I say it. He spent so long trying to prove he really WAS ‘the Sensational One’ against one of the few guys he could consistently hang with. And then, in a four-minute match, I did more damage to his fiercest rival than he’d done in two or three months’ worth of matches. You’d think Watson would have learned from the clinic I put on that night. Instead, though, all he’s doing is recreating the same mistakes he chided Harris for before all those matches they had. Much like Harris did, Watson is going to pay dearly for doing so. And much like what happened with Harris, it’ll be the Big Apple Asskicker personally handling the payback.”
Smith pounds his closed right fist into the palm of his left hand just as he pauses, so as to add extra emphasis to his point.
A.C.: “I don’t care that Nick Watson can’t stand me. In fact, him publicly expressing that means that I’ve gotten under his skin. If I was in his shoes, though, I’d probably feel the same way. Watson’s shouldering a really big load. In addition to trying to be ‘the Sensational One’ with a skillset that doesn’t come close to his self-given moniker, he’s also apparently rushing to judgment about what the people, the best wrestling fans on God’s green earth, want to see on a weekly basis.
Again, that’s all just super, but to be successful in that situation, you need to back it up when the bright lights are on and the high-definition cameras are focused on every little flaw you have. Contrary to what Watson said earlier this week, I’ve done that in spades. I’ve knocked out Biggs, something Watson can only dream of doing. I’ve beaten C.J. Gates as cleanly as you can draw it up, again, a win infinitely higher in quality than anything Watson possesses. I’ve topped John Dionysus, beaten Keaton Saint, mauled Mark Mania, and dissected Slade Craven. And I’ve given Terry Marvin all he can handle on multiple occasions; hell, the fights I’ve given him have been his biggest tests of the year up until the Elimination Chamber Sunday night.
But more importantly than any of those wins are two in particular: The pair of wins I have over ‘the Sensational One’ himself, Nick Watson. The first came on a big stage, as the two of us, Mark Mania, and Slade Cravin were fighting for one remaining spot in the Test for the Best tournament. Just about everyone picked one of the other three combatants to move on. But it was me who persevered, doing so without leaving any doubt over who the best man was that night.
A few weeks ago, Nick Watson had his chance at revenge against me in a one-on-one match. No muss, no fuss, just a test to see who the better man was. And as I predicted, it was me. You know why? Because Watson’s a one-trick pony. He never changes anything he does, which is admirable in one respect but a death sentence in another. If you know what’s coming from an opponent, you’re already ahead of the game. Because Watson keeps talking himself into believing his shit doesn’t stink, over and over and over again, he never forces himself to take a long look in the mirror and say to himself, ‘Self, what’s wrong with me? Why aren’t I living up to my potential, and how can I change that?’
I’ve said it time and time again, but it bears repeating once more. In this business, it’s not about how hard you hit. It’s about how you react when you run into someone else who kicks you in the teeth. Nobody’s better at that than yours truly, thanks to the experience I’ve accumulated over a 10-year career against almost every conceivable superstar one can imagine. And lately, nobody’s been worse at it than Nick Watson. I ask every rational APW fan, what’s changed about him lately that would make him beating Evan Harrison and myself plausible? I sure haven’t seen anything. He’s still reassuring himself, talking himself up, and making his case of being ‘the Sensational One’ rest on denials, rationalizations, and half-truths as opposed to actual results. For the first time in a long time, I agree with Evan Harrison. Nick Watson has absolutely no chance at walking out of the land of the rising sun with the APW Xtreme Championship around his waist.
Wow. Me and Harrison agreeing. BOY, that’s scary.”
Smith pauses to reflect, and rolls his eyes at the mere mention of his arch-enemy before opening his mouth to speak once again.
A.C.: “The thing that may bother me the most, though, is that Watson said I don’t care about the very people I came back to professional wrestling for: The fans. Much like a lot of other people I’ve faced and beaten soundly, he’s confused me actually saying what I think for arrogance. And, as is quickly becoming the norm, he’s found another way to make himself look foolish.
See, Nick, you’re right about something. The people that follow Action Packed Wrestling, the ones who buy our merchandise, the ones who, ultimately, pay our salaries, need a hero. They need someone who stands up to the ones that sometimes make the business a drag, someone to stand up for what they believe is the right thing to do. And most of all, they need someone they can put faith in to get the job done on a weekly basis.
And that right there is where you stop meeting the criteria. See, Nick, unlike your feelings for me, I don’t hate you. I respect that someone else in APW thinks beating up a defenseless woman is wrong. 90% of the time, that’d make you OK in my book, which isn’t something I concede freely. But you’re not a threat, because every time you say you’re going to do something, you fail and fail miserably. That’s not my arrogance talking, that’s the truth backed up by months of Overdrive and pay-per-view results. You haven’t changed in the slightest from the first time we locked up, and it makes you the third man in what will ultimately be a two-man match for the Xtreme title at One Night in Hell. It’s harsh, but that’s the way it is, and it’s all your own doing.
Me? I back up what I say I’m going to do. When I got angry and said I was going to inflict a kind of punishment that had never been seen before on Michael Harris, I did it, unlike you when you were only able to manage a glorified stalemate after weeks of trying to defeat him. When I said I was going to beat Biggs, and C.J. Gates, and John Dionysus, and Keaton Saint, and, yes, you too, Nick Watson, I did it, and I did it soundly. Contrary to what Evan Harrison’s said, I didn’t stumble into this match. I earned my spot by doing what I’ve been doing for 10 years running: Being the best I can be, night after night, in town after town, in front of fans whose appreciation I couldn’t have done anything without.
Nick Watson, much like Evan Harrison, has everything all wrong. The only person that’s viewing this match on Sunday night in the Tokyo Dome the way a winner should is sitting before you right now. Evan’s too busy proving he can’t hold on to a girl with his me-first, me-second, me-third attitude; what a shock, right? Watson’s still trying to talk himself up when the strategy hasn’t worked for months, not since he couldn’t beat me to get into the Test for the Best tournament.”
Smith rises to his feet before continuing.
A.C.: “Meanwhile, I couldn’t be more focused. I’m ready for a battle Sunday night against two people who need reality checks in the worst ways possible. And while Evan Harrison and Nick Watson are engaged in dick-measuring contests nobody will remember even a week from now, I’ve stayed grounded. I’ve stuck with what matters, and I’ve happily shot down the fabrications put online the past few days like a kid in the 1980’s that just discovered ‘Duck Hunt.’
Contrary to what Evan Harrison and Nick Watson believe, the Xtreme Championship is mine for the taking. I am ready to put forth two beatings that will prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I’m the best man in this match. Their optimism is admirable. But as opponents, and as people, Evan Harrison and Nick Watson can’t hold a candle to me. And I look forward to proving that on my own personal V-J Day, one that ends with me flying back to New York City in possession of the Action Packed Wrestling Xtreme Championship.”
Smith gets ready to leave the Peace Park, but he stops and heaves a deep, knowing sigh. We hear panting and heavy footsteps in the background, and Bobby the Bavarian Man-Bitch and Stevie the Slovakian Slobberknocker run into the shot, leaning on the ledge for relief as they catch their breath.
A.C.: “…what, in the name of EVERYTHING holy, are you guys doing here?”
Bobby: “We…we wanted to see the country.”
A.C.: “You traveled how long? About a day?”
Stevie: “Yeah. Yeah, I guess we did.”
A.C.: “Well, it’s for naught. We need to get back to Tokyo. And somewhat soon, too.”
The two men, having done so much work just to turn around, are aghast as Smith prepares to walk offscreen. He stops, though, and looks back at his two comrades.
A.C.: “Look on the bright side. You saw more of Japan than either Watson or Harrison are gonna see. Consider that a victory.”
Bobby and Stevie each manage meek, slight smiles. After a few seconds, they follow Smith offscreen, and our scene fades to black.
Unless you’re fluent in the language, you probably can’t decipher it on your own. Fortunately, we have an interpreter, one who speaks from off-camera in a somber voice that contradicts everything we’ve taken in these past few moments.
Voice: “At 11:02 A.M., August 9, 1945, an atomic bomb exploded 500 meters above this spot. The black stone monolith marks the hypocenter. The fierce blast wind, heat rays reaching several thousand degrees and deadly radiation generated by the explosion crushed, burned, and killed everything in sight and reduced this entire area to a barren field of rubble.
About one-third of Nagasaki City was destroyed and 150,000 people killed or injured and it was said at the time that this area would be devoid of vegetation for 75 years. Now, the hypocenter remains as an international peace park and a symbol of the aspiration for world harmony.”
The camera zooms out, and we see the stoic disposition belonging only to one man: The Big Apple Asskicker, A.C. Smith. He’s sitting on a shelf bordering the fountain, and at times it appears stray drops of water from the jets gently strike his back.
Smith was first seen wearing sunglasses, but he takes them off as the camera focuses on him. He wipes the shades off as his eyes adjust to the light, and he puts them on his lap before focusing his eyes on the camera and opening his mouth to speak.
A.C.: “There are a lot of things fascinating about this area and the tragedy and rebuilding its seen. The strange thing is, and most people don’t know this, is that everything that happened on a hot summer morning in 1945 could have been completely avoided.
After the first atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima, the United States government told the Japanese, ‘Look, we have a second bomb. Either surrender, or we drop it.’ However, in one of the dumbest moves in the history of warfare, Japan hesitated, and some outwardly said, ‘Keep fighting, they’re bluffing.’ Needless to say, Truman wasn’t.”
Smith shakes his head, taking extra time to absorb his surroundings before continuing.
A.C.: “When Fat Man, the second A-bomb, blew up over Nagasaki, very close to where we are right now, it marked the official end to the second great conflict. Still, the tide of the war had gone against Japan and the Axis Powers for years. The only question for the Allies was, what was the best way to force a surrender? Was it an all-out invasion of Tokyo, which would have been infinitely bloodier than D-Day in Europe a year earlier? Or was it the dropping of the two bombs?
Either way, Japan was GOING to lose the war. The cause was hopeless ever since the U.S. Navy made headway with the island-hopping strategy, and Russia finally declaring war and capturing Manchuria didn’t help.
My point is, there was no scenario where Japan won the war once Germany and Italy fell on the European front. And similar to the plight of the Japanese is that of Nick Watson, a guy who has no momentum heading into the three-way for the Xtreme Championship at One Night in Hell, yet continues to treat himself as if he’s not just going to win the match, but that its outcome is going to be hand-delivered to him on a silver platter because he’s, ahem, the ‘Sensational One.’
In case I haven’t made it clear enough, I caught what Watson had to say earlier this week. And it took every ounce of restraint in my body to not laugh so hard my sides ached. See, for far too long, Nick Watson has talked one of the biggest games in Action Packed Wrestling. I don’t hate the guy, far from it, but that’s the truth. Also true is that, if you’re going to do what Watson’s done, you need to be able to back it up from bell to bell, where it matters the most. And the facts are that he’s simply not able to do that on the biggest stages.”
Many men in Smith’s position would have said what just came out of his mouth in a condescending manner. However, as usual with the Big Apple Asskicker, Smith’s tones are measured; decisive, but grounded in logic and reality.
A.C.: “The moment I knew I’d gotten into Nick’s head was when he tried to be all high and mighty about me deciding to visit Hiroshima and Nagasaki this week. Anyone saying I’m being narrow-minded in doing so is missing the mark completely. On the contrary, I’m taking advantage of an experience that’s available to every single APW Megastar that comes to Japan this week. As I predicted, I’m one of a select few that actually chose to make the trip and broaden myself. If Nick Watson has a problem with that, he can stop trying to slum for a free bed somewhere, get his head out of his ass, and speak to me about it in person like a real man.
But no. Instead, he’s comfortable putting himself in a very dangerous predicament. He all but guaranteed that he’d walk out of the Tokyo Dome this weekend with the Xtreme Championship, which flies in the face of every conceivable fact about this match. By SAYING he’s going to win a title without actually, you know, WORKING for it, he’s beginning to resemble his old buddy Michael Harris, who pretty much did the exact same thing only to flake when he realized that there was a 6’8”, 275-pound roadblock standing in his way.
Nick Watson did all he could to vanquish Harris. Instead, it took every ounce of his strength Watson had to pin him on just a few isolated occurrences. You guys remember what happened when Harris and I locked up just a few short weeks ago? I didn’t just beat Michael Harris. I DESTROYED him. I took everything Harris had used to build himself up over these past few months and used it to beat his brains in.
When I came off the top rope with the big splash, which I don’t do often, I made a statement to Evan Harrison, who had every chance to stop the beating but wisely chose to hang back. And when I landed, I didn’t break one of Harris’s ribs, or bruise his sternum, or bust him open. I broke HIM as a competitor. That was the last time Michael Harris will ever be seen in an APW ring. Evan Harrison didn’t send him running with his tail between his legs, and Nick Watson sure as hell didn’t, either. It was ME.
That HAS to be eating at Watson as I say it. He spent so long trying to prove he really WAS ‘the Sensational One’ against one of the few guys he could consistently hang with. And then, in a four-minute match, I did more damage to his fiercest rival than he’d done in two or three months’ worth of matches. You’d think Watson would have learned from the clinic I put on that night. Instead, though, all he’s doing is recreating the same mistakes he chided Harris for before all those matches they had. Much like Harris did, Watson is going to pay dearly for doing so. And much like what happened with Harris, it’ll be the Big Apple Asskicker personally handling the payback.”
Smith pounds his closed right fist into the palm of his left hand just as he pauses, so as to add extra emphasis to his point.
A.C.: “I don’t care that Nick Watson can’t stand me. In fact, him publicly expressing that means that I’ve gotten under his skin. If I was in his shoes, though, I’d probably feel the same way. Watson’s shouldering a really big load. In addition to trying to be ‘the Sensational One’ with a skillset that doesn’t come close to his self-given moniker, he’s also apparently rushing to judgment about what the people, the best wrestling fans on God’s green earth, want to see on a weekly basis.
Again, that’s all just super, but to be successful in that situation, you need to back it up when the bright lights are on and the high-definition cameras are focused on every little flaw you have. Contrary to what Watson said earlier this week, I’ve done that in spades. I’ve knocked out Biggs, something Watson can only dream of doing. I’ve beaten C.J. Gates as cleanly as you can draw it up, again, a win infinitely higher in quality than anything Watson possesses. I’ve topped John Dionysus, beaten Keaton Saint, mauled Mark Mania, and dissected Slade Craven. And I’ve given Terry Marvin all he can handle on multiple occasions; hell, the fights I’ve given him have been his biggest tests of the year up until the Elimination Chamber Sunday night.
But more importantly than any of those wins are two in particular: The pair of wins I have over ‘the Sensational One’ himself, Nick Watson. The first came on a big stage, as the two of us, Mark Mania, and Slade Cravin were fighting for one remaining spot in the Test for the Best tournament. Just about everyone picked one of the other three combatants to move on. But it was me who persevered, doing so without leaving any doubt over who the best man was that night.
A few weeks ago, Nick Watson had his chance at revenge against me in a one-on-one match. No muss, no fuss, just a test to see who the better man was. And as I predicted, it was me. You know why? Because Watson’s a one-trick pony. He never changes anything he does, which is admirable in one respect but a death sentence in another. If you know what’s coming from an opponent, you’re already ahead of the game. Because Watson keeps talking himself into believing his shit doesn’t stink, over and over and over again, he never forces himself to take a long look in the mirror and say to himself, ‘Self, what’s wrong with me? Why aren’t I living up to my potential, and how can I change that?’
I’ve said it time and time again, but it bears repeating once more. In this business, it’s not about how hard you hit. It’s about how you react when you run into someone else who kicks you in the teeth. Nobody’s better at that than yours truly, thanks to the experience I’ve accumulated over a 10-year career against almost every conceivable superstar one can imagine. And lately, nobody’s been worse at it than Nick Watson. I ask every rational APW fan, what’s changed about him lately that would make him beating Evan Harrison and myself plausible? I sure haven’t seen anything. He’s still reassuring himself, talking himself up, and making his case of being ‘the Sensational One’ rest on denials, rationalizations, and half-truths as opposed to actual results. For the first time in a long time, I agree with Evan Harrison. Nick Watson has absolutely no chance at walking out of the land of the rising sun with the APW Xtreme Championship around his waist.
Wow. Me and Harrison agreeing. BOY, that’s scary.”
Smith pauses to reflect, and rolls his eyes at the mere mention of his arch-enemy before opening his mouth to speak once again.
A.C.: “The thing that may bother me the most, though, is that Watson said I don’t care about the very people I came back to professional wrestling for: The fans. Much like a lot of other people I’ve faced and beaten soundly, he’s confused me actually saying what I think for arrogance. And, as is quickly becoming the norm, he’s found another way to make himself look foolish.
See, Nick, you’re right about something. The people that follow Action Packed Wrestling, the ones who buy our merchandise, the ones who, ultimately, pay our salaries, need a hero. They need someone who stands up to the ones that sometimes make the business a drag, someone to stand up for what they believe is the right thing to do. And most of all, they need someone they can put faith in to get the job done on a weekly basis.
And that right there is where you stop meeting the criteria. See, Nick, unlike your feelings for me, I don’t hate you. I respect that someone else in APW thinks beating up a defenseless woman is wrong. 90% of the time, that’d make you OK in my book, which isn’t something I concede freely. But you’re not a threat, because every time you say you’re going to do something, you fail and fail miserably. That’s not my arrogance talking, that’s the truth backed up by months of Overdrive and pay-per-view results. You haven’t changed in the slightest from the first time we locked up, and it makes you the third man in what will ultimately be a two-man match for the Xtreme title at One Night in Hell. It’s harsh, but that’s the way it is, and it’s all your own doing.
Me? I back up what I say I’m going to do. When I got angry and said I was going to inflict a kind of punishment that had never been seen before on Michael Harris, I did it, unlike you when you were only able to manage a glorified stalemate after weeks of trying to defeat him. When I said I was going to beat Biggs, and C.J. Gates, and John Dionysus, and Keaton Saint, and, yes, you too, Nick Watson, I did it, and I did it soundly. Contrary to what Evan Harrison’s said, I didn’t stumble into this match. I earned my spot by doing what I’ve been doing for 10 years running: Being the best I can be, night after night, in town after town, in front of fans whose appreciation I couldn’t have done anything without.
Nick Watson, much like Evan Harrison, has everything all wrong. The only person that’s viewing this match on Sunday night in the Tokyo Dome the way a winner should is sitting before you right now. Evan’s too busy proving he can’t hold on to a girl with his me-first, me-second, me-third attitude; what a shock, right? Watson’s still trying to talk himself up when the strategy hasn’t worked for months, not since he couldn’t beat me to get into the Test for the Best tournament.”
Smith rises to his feet before continuing.
A.C.: “Meanwhile, I couldn’t be more focused. I’m ready for a battle Sunday night against two people who need reality checks in the worst ways possible. And while Evan Harrison and Nick Watson are engaged in dick-measuring contests nobody will remember even a week from now, I’ve stayed grounded. I’ve stuck with what matters, and I’ve happily shot down the fabrications put online the past few days like a kid in the 1980’s that just discovered ‘Duck Hunt.’
Contrary to what Evan Harrison and Nick Watson believe, the Xtreme Championship is mine for the taking. I am ready to put forth two beatings that will prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I’m the best man in this match. Their optimism is admirable. But as opponents, and as people, Evan Harrison and Nick Watson can’t hold a candle to me. And I look forward to proving that on my own personal V-J Day, one that ends with me flying back to New York City in possession of the Action Packed Wrestling Xtreme Championship.”
Smith gets ready to leave the Peace Park, but he stops and heaves a deep, knowing sigh. We hear panting and heavy footsteps in the background, and Bobby the Bavarian Man-Bitch and Stevie the Slovakian Slobberknocker run into the shot, leaning on the ledge for relief as they catch their breath.
A.C.: “…what, in the name of EVERYTHING holy, are you guys doing here?”
Bobby: “We…we wanted to see the country.”
A.C.: “You traveled how long? About a day?”
Stevie: “Yeah. Yeah, I guess we did.”
A.C.: “Well, it’s for naught. We need to get back to Tokyo. And somewhat soon, too.”
The two men, having done so much work just to turn around, are aghast as Smith prepares to walk offscreen. He stops, though, and looks back at his two comrades.
A.C.: “Look on the bright side. You saw more of Japan than either Watson or Harrison are gonna see. Consider that a victory.”
Bobby and Stevie each manage meek, slight smiles. After a few seconds, they follow Smith offscreen, and our scene fades to black.
