Post by Alex Kiseragi on Jul 6, 2010 5:57:52 GMT -5
Sentinel - 11/01/09
Horizons Main Event Rematch.
Winner Decides Who Gets First Shot at Unified Global Title at Infinity
Travis Roberts
Vs.
Alex Kiseragi
Vs.
Randy Boolzian
Ref: Glenn Burke
Winner - Randy Boolzian
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
‘Happy New Year.’
That’s what they’d kept saying to him but no matter how many times the words, so based in social expectancy, were uttered, Alex still failed to agree. The transition from 11:59 December 31st 2008 to 12:01 January 1st 2009 had changed nothing. It hadn’t dulled the bruising that still lingered across his lower back. It hadn’t taken away the unusual loneliness he now felt, stepping out of his front door to complete indifference from those he passed and it didn’t take away the ever present nagging that his career may have reached a peak he would never again be able to reach.
Alex awoke, all but face down in a pillow atop the double bed he so regularly inhabited alone. Pushing himself up just onto his elbows he sighed at the small damp patch he had unwittingly drooled onto during the night. He wiped his mouth and turned the pillow over, about to slump back into it when the overwhelming call of nature tore him rudely from his haven. Bounding into the bathroom next door he became vaguely aware of the midday sun shining softly through the thin cloud line from the window at the end of the hall. Throwing the seat up, The Dragon’s shoulders slumped in relief as the pressure was released and a thin smile unconsciously escaped his lips. It didn’t remain long. The break had not been kind to Alex Kiseragi. Looking at himself in the mirror he realised how long it had been since he’d taken the time to so much as shave, a thick layer of rough stumble now coating his chin. Further down, the abdominal muscles that had once lined the streets of this city and magazine pages around the world but were now all but forgotten had lost their edge. Beside them Alex grabbed a roll of fat that he couldn’t recall ever forming before. Flushing the toilet he turned away from the mirror, looking back over his shoulder. The distinctive rectangular patterned bruises that had adorned his back for the last month had finally begun to yellow, a pleasant change from the blacks, reds and purples that had decorated him previously.
Heading out of the bathroom he passed the phone, pressing a button as he passed but not stopping to listen. As he moved into the kitchen the droll robotic voice behind him was just loud enough to make itself heard.
“You have -no- new messages.”
Throwing the fridge door open he couldn’t help but laugh at the pitiful sight laid before him. Deciding neither the slowly moulding lump of cheese nor the tub of margarine would make any form of appetising breakfast he lazily pushed the door to and turned back out of the kitchen, rubbing the last of the sleep out of his eyes as he went.
Traipsing back into the bedroom Alex kicked a pair of black jeans off the floor into his hands and pulled them on, still trying to walk as he did and having to catch himself on the wall quickly as he trod on the inside of the leg. With the garment finally on and soon accompanied by a shirt he picked up his cell phone, flipping it open to the expectantly empty screen. No missed calls. No messages. The first chords of Worth Dying For by Rise Against startled him to the point of almost dropping the device as it rang for the first time in longer than he could be bothered to recall. One word flashed across the screen.
-Dad-
Typical. Alex raised the phone to his ear. “Hello Dad.”
“Does it matter?”
“Ok, about 5 minutes ago, what’s your point?”
“Well good morning to you too.”
“No, I’m just heading out.”
“Because I’ve got no food here.”
“Can’t it wait?”
“Fine, but you owe me a plate of pancakes.”
The phone flipped closed, ending the call and Alex made for the door, slipping his feet into a pair of unlaced black and white Vans and taking down the leather jacket he’d been gifted seemingly years ago, throwing it around his shoulders. He smirked slightly at the unmistakable shape of the sun glasses in the pocket. Slipping them on, head bowed, shoulders slumped, he walked out into the street.
--------------------------------------------------
“Happy Birthday my Son.”
“Thanks Dad.”
Alex looked at his father who had crouched down so as not to tower over him as he spoke.
“Do you know why today is special?” Yasutoki asked.
“Because it’s my Birthday!” Alex cried in a outburst of excitement mixed with confusion at the apparent obviousness of the question.
“Yes, but why else?”
Alex stopped for a moment, resting a finger on his lip as he looked around for some kind of inspiration. “Umm…”
“Because you’re 6 and when Kiseragi boys are 6, they get to learn something special.”
Alex’s face dropped and he shuffled his feet. “I don’t wanna go to school today.” he said quietly.
Yasutoki smiled warmly and raised Alex’s head to face him again. “It’s not school. Starting tomorrow, I’m going to teach you karate.”
“Yay!” Alex grinned ear to ear and threw his arms into the air before wrapping them around his fathers neck. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now go see your Mother, your friends are going to be here soon.”
---------------------------------------------------
Alex had barely been looking where he was going the whole walk, his eyes focussed permanently on the spot of pavement directly ahead of his feet. His legs started to burn as he reached the top of the hill. Another unsettling reminder of the previous months decay.
It was little surprise then when he felt the familiar feeling of unintentional human contact as someone walked into him, or he walked into them, he wasn’t even sure.
“Hey I’m walking here jerk. Mind where you’re going.”
The voice was all too familiar and looking up did no more than further confirm what Alex already knew. The look, perfected and painstakingly crafted, of a man who could make you a star. The man who had made him a star. Vince Hawk stood in a black suit and three quarter length black coat, trademark Bluetooth and palm top computer both in full swing.
“Alex?”
Alex removed his shades and straightened himself up. “Yeah. Vince, how you doing?” he asked, a smile coming to him naturally for the first time in weeks.
Vince looked around, awkwardly, as if looking for an escape. “Uh, yeah, things are good. New year, new opportunities, all that. You?”
“Not so good.” Alex replied with a shrug. “But hey, I’m ready to get back into it. So tell me more about these new opportunities.”
“Oh, right, um, yeah, that’s going to be a problem.”
“Huh?”
“Oh, how do I say this. GIW hired me to push their Global Heavyweight Champion. But you see, that’s not you anymore. You’ve been and gone. You been hiding under a rock? Everyone says your win at Distant Whispers was a fluke. You were one of those guys who got lucky once. You watch UFC? See when Matt Serra beat George St. Pierre? Everyone thought he was the next big thing. See the rematch. St. Pierre crushed him and he’s barely been seen since. You’re Matt Serra. Now, I’ve got an important meeting to get to. See ya around and all that, kid.”
With that, Vince brushed past the Dragon, crossing the street, back into full flow on his headset before he’d even reached the other side, leaving Alex stood dumbfounded. He could have said something, but what would have been the point. Sliding his shades on once more, he continued on.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Little Alex stood proud and as tall as someone of his youthful stature could do. His new Gi was a bright white, unblemished by so much as dust. Ahead on him, Yasutoki was the definition of opposite, a Gi bordering on shades of grey, frayed at it’s edges and along the most mobile areas. The Master knelt, motioning for his Son to do the same. Alex did so, shifting, trying to get comfortable in the unfamiliar, unnatural position.
“You know why you’re here don’t you.” Yasutoki said quietly.
“To learn Karate!” Alex said loud and happy.
Yasutoki raised a finger to his lips and shushed gently and Alex clamped his hands over his mouth as he took the hint he was being to loud.
“That’s right. But before we start you have to promise me something. Karate is very special and very dangerous. If I’m going to teach you, you have to promise me you will use it right. You will never abuse the power it grants. You will be humble in your abilities and you will always fight with honour. Do you understand?”
Alex nodded enthusiastically.
“You have to swear it to me, on your own honour.”
“I swear Father.”
----------------------------------------------------------------
Alex pushed through the door and stepped into the familiar surroundings of the old dojo. He straightened himself out slightly now that he was out of sight but not entirely. It was of course no surprise to see his Father, clad in all his traditional attire, stood with his hands behind his back gazing out of the far window across the calm serene ocean.
“You took your time.”
“Yeah well…” Alex replied, failing to find anything smarter to say at a critical moment.
Yasutoki looked back over his shoulder and slowly turned around. “Is my Son here?”
Alex looked around, left then right, frowning in confusion he waved with his left hand, pointing to himself with his right. “Right here, hello?”
Yasutoki chuckled and started to walk in a circle around the room. “Do you remember this place?”
“Well yeah, I come here all the time.”
“All the time hmm. The owners tell me they haven’t seen you in weeks. But no, do you really remember this place? I remember twenty years ago. You were this big.” Yasutoki makes a low motion with his hand as he circles his Son. “And you swore an oath to me, to be humble and to fight with honour.”
“Is this going somewhere?”
“I know you’re depressed. You lost your title and I’ll tell you why. The man who went into Distant Whispers was the same person who swore that oath to me. That man was my Son and that man overcame all to reach his dream. At Horizon’s though, I didn’t recognise the man who jumped out of that Dragon. He was some arrogant fool who spent more time posing in his underwear then training…”
“Bullshit. I’m the same person I was then, I was the same person at Horizons and the same person now.”
“Is that so? I seem to remember my Son used to be able to match his old man. Let’s see if you can.”
With that Yasutoki stops in front of Alex and takes down into a low sidelong stance, motioning for Alex to do the same. The younger complies and drops into his hips, looking less comfortable in such a position than his Father. Before Alex realised what happened a hard front roundhouse kick crashed into his chest, knocking the wind out of him and almost pitching him off his feet. Alex clutched where the blow had landed and breathed heavily, trying to recompose himself.
“Did you not see that coming? Maybe the glasses are blinding you.”
“They’re fine.” Alex spat back.
“I disagree.” Yasutoki threw himself forward again, slashing at Alex’s leg, then throwing his fist towards his head. The first blow narrowly turned away but a second falling hard below Alex’s temple. The sunglasses were thrown aside by the force and clattered off the old floorboards. Yasutoki’s foot fell upon then with fury, destroying them utterly.
“Hey, those were my glasses!” Alex barked, outraged at the damage to his property.
Yasutoki shook is head. “No, they were his.” Stepping forward again, the elder Dragon caught the rash counter attack of his Son, gripping his arm and pulling him off balance. A slip of the hand grasped at the sleeve of his jacket and pulled hard as his foot came up to Alex’s ribs and pushed them away. The opposing forces tore the sleeve at the seam and it came free in Yasutoki’s hand.
“That was a gift!” Alex barked again.
“You no longer deserve.”
Alex launched himself back, tearing the remains of his jacket of as he did so. The two fought for fiercely for minutes, Alex’s teeth gritted, sweat pouring from his brow and frustration setting in as every strike was near effortlessly countered. He felt sluggish and weak and every passing second only made it worse. Finally a blow fell, Yasutoki’s fist slamming through his Son’s gut, driving him to his knees.
“E-enough.” Alex coughed, holding his hand up. “You win.”
Yasutoki smiled thinly, looking down. “How fitting.”
“Huh?”
Yasutoki motioned to the shirt Alex wore. His old Komosube shirt. That he’d worn in his first official interview with GIW.
“Last time I saw that it was on the Son I knew. The Son I see now. Tell me, do you want your title back?”
“More than anything.” Alex panted.
“Then we have work to do.”
Horizons Main Event Rematch.
Winner Decides Who Gets First Shot at Unified Global Title at Infinity
Travis Roberts
Vs.
Alex Kiseragi
Vs.
Randy Boolzian
Ref: Glenn Burke
Winner - Randy Boolzian
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
‘Happy New Year.’
That’s what they’d kept saying to him but no matter how many times the words, so based in social expectancy, were uttered, Alex still failed to agree. The transition from 11:59 December 31st 2008 to 12:01 January 1st 2009 had changed nothing. It hadn’t dulled the bruising that still lingered across his lower back. It hadn’t taken away the unusual loneliness he now felt, stepping out of his front door to complete indifference from those he passed and it didn’t take away the ever present nagging that his career may have reached a peak he would never again be able to reach.
Alex awoke, all but face down in a pillow atop the double bed he so regularly inhabited alone. Pushing himself up just onto his elbows he sighed at the small damp patch he had unwittingly drooled onto during the night. He wiped his mouth and turned the pillow over, about to slump back into it when the overwhelming call of nature tore him rudely from his haven. Bounding into the bathroom next door he became vaguely aware of the midday sun shining softly through the thin cloud line from the window at the end of the hall. Throwing the seat up, The Dragon’s shoulders slumped in relief as the pressure was released and a thin smile unconsciously escaped his lips. It didn’t remain long. The break had not been kind to Alex Kiseragi. Looking at himself in the mirror he realised how long it had been since he’d taken the time to so much as shave, a thick layer of rough stumble now coating his chin. Further down, the abdominal muscles that had once lined the streets of this city and magazine pages around the world but were now all but forgotten had lost their edge. Beside them Alex grabbed a roll of fat that he couldn’t recall ever forming before. Flushing the toilet he turned away from the mirror, looking back over his shoulder. The distinctive rectangular patterned bruises that had adorned his back for the last month had finally begun to yellow, a pleasant change from the blacks, reds and purples that had decorated him previously.
Heading out of the bathroom he passed the phone, pressing a button as he passed but not stopping to listen. As he moved into the kitchen the droll robotic voice behind him was just loud enough to make itself heard.
“You have -no- new messages.”
Throwing the fridge door open he couldn’t help but laugh at the pitiful sight laid before him. Deciding neither the slowly moulding lump of cheese nor the tub of margarine would make any form of appetising breakfast he lazily pushed the door to and turned back out of the kitchen, rubbing the last of the sleep out of his eyes as he went.
Traipsing back into the bedroom Alex kicked a pair of black jeans off the floor into his hands and pulled them on, still trying to walk as he did and having to catch himself on the wall quickly as he trod on the inside of the leg. With the garment finally on and soon accompanied by a shirt he picked up his cell phone, flipping it open to the expectantly empty screen. No missed calls. No messages. The first chords of Worth Dying For by Rise Against startled him to the point of almost dropping the device as it rang for the first time in longer than he could be bothered to recall. One word flashed across the screen.
-Dad-
Typical. Alex raised the phone to his ear. “Hello Dad.”
“Does it matter?”
“Ok, about 5 minutes ago, what’s your point?”
“Well good morning to you too.”
“No, I’m just heading out.”
“Because I’ve got no food here.”
“Can’t it wait?”
“Fine, but you owe me a plate of pancakes.”
The phone flipped closed, ending the call and Alex made for the door, slipping his feet into a pair of unlaced black and white Vans and taking down the leather jacket he’d been gifted seemingly years ago, throwing it around his shoulders. He smirked slightly at the unmistakable shape of the sun glasses in the pocket. Slipping them on, head bowed, shoulders slumped, he walked out into the street.
--------------------------------------------------
“Happy Birthday my Son.”
“Thanks Dad.”
Alex looked at his father who had crouched down so as not to tower over him as he spoke.
“Do you know why today is special?” Yasutoki asked.
“Because it’s my Birthday!” Alex cried in a outburst of excitement mixed with confusion at the apparent obviousness of the question.
“Yes, but why else?”
Alex stopped for a moment, resting a finger on his lip as he looked around for some kind of inspiration. “Umm…”
“Because you’re 6 and when Kiseragi boys are 6, they get to learn something special.”
Alex’s face dropped and he shuffled his feet. “I don’t wanna go to school today.” he said quietly.
Yasutoki smiled warmly and raised Alex’s head to face him again. “It’s not school. Starting tomorrow, I’m going to teach you karate.”
“Yay!” Alex grinned ear to ear and threw his arms into the air before wrapping them around his fathers neck. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now go see your Mother, your friends are going to be here soon.”
---------------------------------------------------
Alex had barely been looking where he was going the whole walk, his eyes focussed permanently on the spot of pavement directly ahead of his feet. His legs started to burn as he reached the top of the hill. Another unsettling reminder of the previous months decay.
It was little surprise then when he felt the familiar feeling of unintentional human contact as someone walked into him, or he walked into them, he wasn’t even sure.
“Hey I’m walking here jerk. Mind where you’re going.”
The voice was all too familiar and looking up did no more than further confirm what Alex already knew. The look, perfected and painstakingly crafted, of a man who could make you a star. The man who had made him a star. Vince Hawk stood in a black suit and three quarter length black coat, trademark Bluetooth and palm top computer both in full swing.
“Alex?”
Alex removed his shades and straightened himself up. “Yeah. Vince, how you doing?” he asked, a smile coming to him naturally for the first time in weeks.
Vince looked around, awkwardly, as if looking for an escape. “Uh, yeah, things are good. New year, new opportunities, all that. You?”
“Not so good.” Alex replied with a shrug. “But hey, I’m ready to get back into it. So tell me more about these new opportunities.”
“Oh, right, um, yeah, that’s going to be a problem.”
“Huh?”
“Oh, how do I say this. GIW hired me to push their Global Heavyweight Champion. But you see, that’s not you anymore. You’ve been and gone. You been hiding under a rock? Everyone says your win at Distant Whispers was a fluke. You were one of those guys who got lucky once. You watch UFC? See when Matt Serra beat George St. Pierre? Everyone thought he was the next big thing. See the rematch. St. Pierre crushed him and he’s barely been seen since. You’re Matt Serra. Now, I’ve got an important meeting to get to. See ya around and all that, kid.”
With that, Vince brushed past the Dragon, crossing the street, back into full flow on his headset before he’d even reached the other side, leaving Alex stood dumbfounded. He could have said something, but what would have been the point. Sliding his shades on once more, he continued on.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Little Alex stood proud and as tall as someone of his youthful stature could do. His new Gi was a bright white, unblemished by so much as dust. Ahead on him, Yasutoki was the definition of opposite, a Gi bordering on shades of grey, frayed at it’s edges and along the most mobile areas. The Master knelt, motioning for his Son to do the same. Alex did so, shifting, trying to get comfortable in the unfamiliar, unnatural position.
“You know why you’re here don’t you.” Yasutoki said quietly.
“To learn Karate!” Alex said loud and happy.
Yasutoki raised a finger to his lips and shushed gently and Alex clamped his hands over his mouth as he took the hint he was being to loud.
“That’s right. But before we start you have to promise me something. Karate is very special and very dangerous. If I’m going to teach you, you have to promise me you will use it right. You will never abuse the power it grants. You will be humble in your abilities and you will always fight with honour. Do you understand?”
Alex nodded enthusiastically.
“You have to swear it to me, on your own honour.”
“I swear Father.”
----------------------------------------------------------------
Alex pushed through the door and stepped into the familiar surroundings of the old dojo. He straightened himself out slightly now that he was out of sight but not entirely. It was of course no surprise to see his Father, clad in all his traditional attire, stood with his hands behind his back gazing out of the far window across the calm serene ocean.
“You took your time.”
“Yeah well…” Alex replied, failing to find anything smarter to say at a critical moment.
Yasutoki looked back over his shoulder and slowly turned around. “Is my Son here?”
Alex looked around, left then right, frowning in confusion he waved with his left hand, pointing to himself with his right. “Right here, hello?”
Yasutoki chuckled and started to walk in a circle around the room. “Do you remember this place?”
“Well yeah, I come here all the time.”
“All the time hmm. The owners tell me they haven’t seen you in weeks. But no, do you really remember this place? I remember twenty years ago. You were this big.” Yasutoki makes a low motion with his hand as he circles his Son. “And you swore an oath to me, to be humble and to fight with honour.”
“Is this going somewhere?”
“I know you’re depressed. You lost your title and I’ll tell you why. The man who went into Distant Whispers was the same person who swore that oath to me. That man was my Son and that man overcame all to reach his dream. At Horizon’s though, I didn’t recognise the man who jumped out of that Dragon. He was some arrogant fool who spent more time posing in his underwear then training…”
“Bullshit. I’m the same person I was then, I was the same person at Horizons and the same person now.”
“Is that so? I seem to remember my Son used to be able to match his old man. Let’s see if you can.”
With that Yasutoki stops in front of Alex and takes down into a low sidelong stance, motioning for Alex to do the same. The younger complies and drops into his hips, looking less comfortable in such a position than his Father. Before Alex realised what happened a hard front roundhouse kick crashed into his chest, knocking the wind out of him and almost pitching him off his feet. Alex clutched where the blow had landed and breathed heavily, trying to recompose himself.
“Did you not see that coming? Maybe the glasses are blinding you.”
“They’re fine.” Alex spat back.
“I disagree.” Yasutoki threw himself forward again, slashing at Alex’s leg, then throwing his fist towards his head. The first blow narrowly turned away but a second falling hard below Alex’s temple. The sunglasses were thrown aside by the force and clattered off the old floorboards. Yasutoki’s foot fell upon then with fury, destroying them utterly.
“Hey, those were my glasses!” Alex barked, outraged at the damage to his property.
Yasutoki shook is head. “No, they were his.” Stepping forward again, the elder Dragon caught the rash counter attack of his Son, gripping his arm and pulling him off balance. A slip of the hand grasped at the sleeve of his jacket and pulled hard as his foot came up to Alex’s ribs and pushed them away. The opposing forces tore the sleeve at the seam and it came free in Yasutoki’s hand.
“That was a gift!” Alex barked again.
“You no longer deserve.”
Alex launched himself back, tearing the remains of his jacket of as he did so. The two fought for fiercely for minutes, Alex’s teeth gritted, sweat pouring from his brow and frustration setting in as every strike was near effortlessly countered. He felt sluggish and weak and every passing second only made it worse. Finally a blow fell, Yasutoki’s fist slamming through his Son’s gut, driving him to his knees.
“E-enough.” Alex coughed, holding his hand up. “You win.”
Yasutoki smiled thinly, looking down. “How fitting.”
“Huh?”
Yasutoki motioned to the shirt Alex wore. His old Komosube shirt. That he’d worn in his first official interview with GIW.
“Last time I saw that it was on the Son I knew. The Son I see now. Tell me, do you want your title back?”
“More than anything.” Alex panted.
“Then we have work to do.”
x2