Post by The Crimson Ghost! on Feb 5, 2009 17:31:07 GMT -5
After the shock of the cold subsided, Aito was convinced he would die. The body was not meant to endure this, and his mind screamed at him to surface, to open his mouth and inhale air that would not be there for him. It only took a moment to ride this out, to assure himself he was not going to die. The need to get out, to grab a beer, that would not go away for 5 more minutes. Eyes closed, totally submerged, he thought to this week, and contemplated his first move. His target.
The first, immediate inclination was to turn his fury on Travis Roberts. That black-lunged, red-eyed fucker now lorded two wins over Komosube. Two. He probably thought Komosube was small potatoes. He nearly died there from the desire to growl and thrash his fist into the closest thing. But, he controlled himself, and kept his mouth closed, going to his sitting position. Deep inhalation, he kept his pulse down, though on his face the consternation was great. Twice now, he had the foolish gai-jin on the verge of defeat, and twice he had been kept from claiming his superiority. The first time was Brandon Brown, and truthfully, he understood the reasons. At the time he had been waving the banner of Declan Prescott, of Global Domination, the team that was attempting to destroy Brown. Add that to Komosube's glorious victory over the then-ex-champion, and it factored in to an inevitable retaliation. It was business, and since then, Brandon hadn't made the mistake of pushing his luck. As far as he was concerned, him and Brandon would have no more business, until they inevitably met for the title.
Ahh, but that second time? That had been an attack, a ruthless backstabbing that would have done the likes of Judas and Brutus proud. Komosube had Roberts defeated. Granted, it was more of a statement of Global Domination's superiority, but a technical win is a technical win, regardless. He at first hadn't believed the chair that brutally attacked his back and head. He had believed his body had given out, that it was some deep-seated family health condition finally resurfacing. It wasn't until he saw Hastings over him, Aragato springing to the apron that he realized the treachery, and at that moment, had put Hasting's destruction into a compartment in his mind. He would never fucking forget, and had been waiting for the perfect time. He had considered doing it backstage, maybe destroying him before he came out to his next big match...Body for an eye was Komosube's motto. But now...he had Hastings, had a chance to break the man's face, to not stop until he was hitting wet stuff, let them try and pull him off THIS time!
The cold flash of Shikomi-tzue sliced through the stomach of Zatoichi's opponent, but now you know that's not how it looks, and that's not how people die. Your mind lies, murderer. Shows you images from someone else. Why can't it be you? she leans against you, curled on the couch, transfixed on the screen, but even whisked away to a world she longs for, of Yakuza and wicked tyrants, and heroes to overthrow them with intentions as pure and razor sharp as the blades they carried, she clings to the reality she chose. Be thankful the images aren't real, you would never deserve her. You deserve cancer, but that's an insult to any cancer that would settle for you. She claps her hands and laughs, and you share popcorn. She's seen this movie for the 14th time, but you don't fight when she wants to watch it again. My god she's perfect. Oh God.
No. No, that was careless. Yes, he could destroy Hastings, he could hear the bell ring in disqualification as the limp body is crashed through the ring and into the tables and lighting fixtures, you could throttle his neck until he stops fighting and no pulse is found. But that is not your purpose here. Time and a place! First, you need to win. But who to pick, here? All have wronged you. All will suffer, and you will watch their blood flow. But who first??
Dylan James would be a fine choice here. Aito did not understand the parading of one's refusal to touch alcohol or drugs. He understood it in other aspects of life, but what place did it have in the ring? What was the message sent to your opponent? What was the strategy? Perhaps it was Komosube's lack of surety at Dylan that led to his defeat early on, but he would not make the same mistake twice. Plus, he lugged around that Trick or Treat motherfucker, Aesc. A man who Aragato had bested in combat, so he knew that Aesc was not unbeatable. But all the same, he didn't see the Satan-worshipping freak as someone to take lightly. Best to hit Dylan hard, and fast, and destroy the bodyguard. Put your fist through the walls opposing you.
However, that made you a target. Aesc looked different recently, more...single-minded in his goals. If he hit Dylan the hardest, it would draw Aesc's attention the whole match, no doubt. Singles combat, that's exactly what he wanted. But there were two other people willing to take advantage of distraction. No...best to let someone else draw the aggro, then capitalize with more power then they knew how to handle. His fists clenched, and his heartrate quickened, boiling his blood in the freezing cold, and it was difficult to bring himself down.
In a split-second your hand went to the handle, and another fraction of a fraction of a second, the steel originally in your scabbard ripped through the stomach, ribs, sternum and left collar bone of the opponent. The blood hitting your face revived you. The plasma that hit your tongue...let you forget yourself, and the adrenaline was incredible. Where as before the small cement room had been dead quiet, there were cheers and loud exclamations, and the exchanging of yen. You win, yet again. This is what you were made for, Murderer. It should have been you, not him. You've taken another life. Your greed has cost others a price you have failed to pay.
It will be nice to be Champion, pondered Aito, almost drooling. When you destroy the form of Brandon Brown, when you throw more power at Brown then he can handle and keep him down with your foot for three long seconds, all will know your Might! No more of this Pay Per View cowardice. Every week it will be put on the line! Within a month, the entire locker room will have had a chance at Glory, and Komosube will prove to their broken forms what stupid pink-skinned shitheads they really are! Not fair Roberts or Dylan James don't add to the mountain of defeated. All shall have their chance! Aito thought of the backstage, of rubbing it in all their faces. If they look away, try to leave, you will sit them down and MAKE them understand why they were worthless.
Of course, once that title is strapped to your waist, thought Aito, that makes you a target. He thought of the possible jumpings. He thought of Declan, and his blood curdled. Oh, yes. The wannabe Legend, wanting everything given to him. Yes, that's another thing Aito would have to do. He reveled in the thought of storming into Declan's office, champion, beating him senseless with the walking cumbucket he keeps around as a bat. Pathetic begets pathetic, Aito supposed when he thought of the relationship between Declan and Cara. Of course they would be meant for each other! Two wretched excuses of humanity, they would have flocked to each other's social ineptitudes and whatever else. As much as Komosube grinned at the thought of throwing Cara down a chimney, he hated Declan that much more, and if he had to choose to spare one, Cara would be the one he'd spare. She understood she was trash. She accepted her place beneath Greatness, but Declan did not understand. He would, though, you'll make sure that he gets as many title shots as he desires. That many times you'll hurt him worse then Brandon Brown ever could, and with your bare hands! Give him chairs, give him sledgehammers! See what good they do when you smash him into paste with your fists.
And then, there was Deathman. If Komosube's skin could sweat, it would be pouring ice cold, and as it was his skin hardened with goose bumps. He had seen Deathman at Warfare. He saw the drive, saw how...relentless the General was. Up to this point, Komosube had been holding back. Against Travis, against Brandon Brown, even against Aragato recently. Even Mickey. He had never met an opponent who he was confident could take his all. Until Deathman. The idea that there was someone who could take all the absolute power Komosube could give, until he strained even his own limits, until he could not stand for hitting that hard...the idea that someone might be able to take that...frightened him, and he knew he had to fight Deathman. To fight someone with power he feared...He grinned wide, blood pumping at the idea. He wanted to see, he wanted to see Deathman GET UP, watch him take it, and STAND TO HIS FEET. Deathman was one of the few he respected, and to fight the man, one on one...Now, his lungs were burning, and it was time, time to stand up, or die.
Every punch Komosube landed to your skull, every slam, every smash, every hit, made you LIVE, in a way you haven't felt since coming to GiW. Something in the pain...revived you. You know it will be the same way against Andy Savana. You've seen him, recently, seen his eyes, and while others don't understand what the eyes mean, you know. That isn't Andy Savana, not the man they talk about and speak to. There was something...something IN Savana, and you could recognize without a moment of doubt that whatever was in there, was an intruder. You...relate? No. Your mind shows you lies, but the lies don't take over, you don't think your the illusion. Andy Savana is one of the true who understands truth, in it's purest form. Truth in pain, truth in inflicting it, truth in taking it. He's one of the few who understands...your to see him this Sentinel, your to watch him react, watch this New One, if he helps Andy, or if he hinders. Your to see if a New Opponent emerges, so you may prepare accordingly when you face Them. The stipulations of the match are irrelevant. Merely fight him until it's impossible for one of you to fight further. You understand this. You need to see if the Imposter knows this, as Savana would know.
He tapped the ice above him. 6 inches thick, and solid. Though his lungs begged him for air, he ignored the plea. If he could not escape this, if he could not win over himself, he did not deserve to win the Title. He would either reign in his wants and rage, or he would die. Simple. Walking along the bottom of the pool, he felt along, feeling the weakest point of the ice. From there, he punched, upward, right fist never faltering in tempo, and even underwater like it was, the force was tremendous. Still, the ice didn't budge, and Aito briefly accepted that he may die. After realizing his mortality, he would open his eyes, and with no sense of urgency, he would punch. Not faster. But...harder. He saw the hairline crack, saw it fracture, and for 4 more minutes he punched, until his fist broke through the ice, and only then would his eyes widen in desperation, at the thought of air. The rest of the ice was simply broken, and he broke through, choking and weezing, inhaling deep breath fulls of air, panting and shivering from the cold. He looked around at the indoor gym, and broke through the ice, smashing with his arms until he cleaved a path to the edge of the pool. He rolled up onto solid earth, and after a 2 minute nap, he went into the heated dressing room, to towel off and relax. He was still smiling of the thought of parading his belt over BoolZ's, letting the shithead know who the real Champion was.
(We see Chinatsu speaking rapid-fire Japanese on the hallway payphone, eyes wide, sounding angry at the person on the other end. We see yellow subtitles as she speaks. We can hear enough to hear that the muffled voice on the other end is male.)
Chinatsu: Hey, dummy! Don't sound so fucking angry, ok? No...*listening* LISTEN TO ME!!!!!! *silence on the other end* I don't care what you heard, I haven't even met Chris Austin yet! Even if I would, if I was going to jump him like that I'd dump you first! Why lead someone on? *rapid-fire Japanese on the other end* I'M NOT GOING TO, STUPID! WE WOULDN'T BE ARGUING IF I DIDN'T WANT TO SAVE THIS STUPID THING! Fucking A...I'M HANGING UP NOW!
(Chinatsu slams the phone down on the receiver, and storms off as it falls off the hook. We follow her around, and see she is wearing whatever is the rage in Tokyo right now. Stylish looking clothes, but cheap kind of stylish, unlike certain Billion Dollar Queens here, she looks like she's wise with a dollar. We see her approach the locker room, and rapid fire bang on the door. After a moment, Chris Austin opens the door, garbed in only a towel, sleek with sweat. He's got the towel so that we see that pelvis two-pack thing going on, you know that REALLY toned and built guys have. He looks very calm, but after a second gets wide eyes at Chinatsu. He does a double take, in his bedroom, and glances back to her, quickly.)
Austin: Wha- How'd you...
Chinatsu(in perfect English): Out of the way!
(Chinatsu abruptly pushes the confused Sexy Shaman out the way. The camera doesn't follow her, but but we hear loud Japanese arguing between two girls, and she returns in a second.)
Chinatsu(In perfect English): That's my twin sister! Machiko! She's a total (Japanese, but it didn't sound nice, as the girl from the other room is cursing out Chinatsu.)!!
Austin: Oh...well, hey, long as we've got this cleared up, wanna go out for some coffee...?
(Austin's brow raises, but is staggered back as Chinatsu after exclaiming, straight punches Austin in the sternum. He doesn't react at first, but as we see Chinatsu storm off, we see Austin quietly groan and feel his sternum softly. We hear Machiko calling out to Austin.)
Austin: Shut up, you. Getting me into trouble...someone's getting chili dogged...
Machiko:...Whoah, wait, what...!
(Camera cuts to Chinatsu, far away and not hearing any of this. her face is flushed, and she is fanning herself slightly. She's just met her God, after all. Crimson pops up behind.)
Crimson Ghost: Hey, ya. Want some skittles?
Chinatsu: No...
Crimson Ghost: Good. I don't wanna give them...They are the greatest Skittles in the Free World...
(They each sit there, each obviously preoccupied with things on their minds, as the scene fades with Chinatsu biting her bottom lip and smiling, eyes reflecting on something. Crimson is just eating the skittles, inhaling deep after each one. END OF SCENE.)
OOC: Yeah, I really don't like coming up with titles. Go figure. And, the Chinatsu scene up above? I had to debut her MAD early due to an incident in former Hardcore Champion Chris Austin's post. It's also why she has an identical twin.
Oi fuckin' vey, man...
The first, immediate inclination was to turn his fury on Travis Roberts. That black-lunged, red-eyed fucker now lorded two wins over Komosube. Two. He probably thought Komosube was small potatoes. He nearly died there from the desire to growl and thrash his fist into the closest thing. But, he controlled himself, and kept his mouth closed, going to his sitting position. Deep inhalation, he kept his pulse down, though on his face the consternation was great. Twice now, he had the foolish gai-jin on the verge of defeat, and twice he had been kept from claiming his superiority. The first time was Brandon Brown, and truthfully, he understood the reasons. At the time he had been waving the banner of Declan Prescott, of Global Domination, the team that was attempting to destroy Brown. Add that to Komosube's glorious victory over the then-ex-champion, and it factored in to an inevitable retaliation. It was business, and since then, Brandon hadn't made the mistake of pushing his luck. As far as he was concerned, him and Brandon would have no more business, until they inevitably met for the title.
Ahh, but that second time? That had been an attack, a ruthless backstabbing that would have done the likes of Judas and Brutus proud. Komosube had Roberts defeated. Granted, it was more of a statement of Global Domination's superiority, but a technical win is a technical win, regardless. He at first hadn't believed the chair that brutally attacked his back and head. He had believed his body had given out, that it was some deep-seated family health condition finally resurfacing. It wasn't until he saw Hastings over him, Aragato springing to the apron that he realized the treachery, and at that moment, had put Hasting's destruction into a compartment in his mind. He would never fucking forget, and had been waiting for the perfect time. He had considered doing it backstage, maybe destroying him before he came out to his next big match...Body for an eye was Komosube's motto. But now...he had Hastings, had a chance to break the man's face, to not stop until he was hitting wet stuff, let them try and pull him off THIS time!
The cold flash of Shikomi-tzue sliced through the stomach of Zatoichi's opponent, but now you know that's not how it looks, and that's not how people die. Your mind lies, murderer. Shows you images from someone else. Why can't it be you? she leans against you, curled on the couch, transfixed on the screen, but even whisked away to a world she longs for, of Yakuza and wicked tyrants, and heroes to overthrow them with intentions as pure and razor sharp as the blades they carried, she clings to the reality she chose. Be thankful the images aren't real, you would never deserve her. You deserve cancer, but that's an insult to any cancer that would settle for you. She claps her hands and laughs, and you share popcorn. She's seen this movie for the 14th time, but you don't fight when she wants to watch it again. My god she's perfect. Oh God.
No. No, that was careless. Yes, he could destroy Hastings, he could hear the bell ring in disqualification as the limp body is crashed through the ring and into the tables and lighting fixtures, you could throttle his neck until he stops fighting and no pulse is found. But that is not your purpose here. Time and a place! First, you need to win. But who to pick, here? All have wronged you. All will suffer, and you will watch their blood flow. But who first??
Dylan James would be a fine choice here. Aito did not understand the parading of one's refusal to touch alcohol or drugs. He understood it in other aspects of life, but what place did it have in the ring? What was the message sent to your opponent? What was the strategy? Perhaps it was Komosube's lack of surety at Dylan that led to his defeat early on, but he would not make the same mistake twice. Plus, he lugged around that Trick or Treat motherfucker, Aesc. A man who Aragato had bested in combat, so he knew that Aesc was not unbeatable. But all the same, he didn't see the Satan-worshipping freak as someone to take lightly. Best to hit Dylan hard, and fast, and destroy the bodyguard. Put your fist through the walls opposing you.
However, that made you a target. Aesc looked different recently, more...single-minded in his goals. If he hit Dylan the hardest, it would draw Aesc's attention the whole match, no doubt. Singles combat, that's exactly what he wanted. But there were two other people willing to take advantage of distraction. No...best to let someone else draw the aggro, then capitalize with more power then they knew how to handle. His fists clenched, and his heartrate quickened, boiling his blood in the freezing cold, and it was difficult to bring himself down.
In a split-second your hand went to the handle, and another fraction of a fraction of a second, the steel originally in your scabbard ripped through the stomach, ribs, sternum and left collar bone of the opponent. The blood hitting your face revived you. The plasma that hit your tongue...let you forget yourself, and the adrenaline was incredible. Where as before the small cement room had been dead quiet, there were cheers and loud exclamations, and the exchanging of yen. You win, yet again. This is what you were made for, Murderer. It should have been you, not him. You've taken another life. Your greed has cost others a price you have failed to pay.
It will be nice to be Champion, pondered Aito, almost drooling. When you destroy the form of Brandon Brown, when you throw more power at Brown then he can handle and keep him down with your foot for three long seconds, all will know your Might! No more of this Pay Per View cowardice. Every week it will be put on the line! Within a month, the entire locker room will have had a chance at Glory, and Komosube will prove to their broken forms what stupid pink-skinned shitheads they really are! Not fair Roberts or Dylan James don't add to the mountain of defeated. All shall have their chance! Aito thought of the backstage, of rubbing it in all their faces. If they look away, try to leave, you will sit them down and MAKE them understand why they were worthless.
Of course, once that title is strapped to your waist, thought Aito, that makes you a target. He thought of the possible jumpings. He thought of Declan, and his blood curdled. Oh, yes. The wannabe Legend, wanting everything given to him. Yes, that's another thing Aito would have to do. He reveled in the thought of storming into Declan's office, champion, beating him senseless with the walking cumbucket he keeps around as a bat. Pathetic begets pathetic, Aito supposed when he thought of the relationship between Declan and Cara. Of course they would be meant for each other! Two wretched excuses of humanity, they would have flocked to each other's social ineptitudes and whatever else. As much as Komosube grinned at the thought of throwing Cara down a chimney, he hated Declan that much more, and if he had to choose to spare one, Cara would be the one he'd spare. She understood she was trash. She accepted her place beneath Greatness, but Declan did not understand. He would, though, you'll make sure that he gets as many title shots as he desires. That many times you'll hurt him worse then Brandon Brown ever could, and with your bare hands! Give him chairs, give him sledgehammers! See what good they do when you smash him into paste with your fists.
And then, there was Deathman. If Komosube's skin could sweat, it would be pouring ice cold, and as it was his skin hardened with goose bumps. He had seen Deathman at Warfare. He saw the drive, saw how...relentless the General was. Up to this point, Komosube had been holding back. Against Travis, against Brandon Brown, even against Aragato recently. Even Mickey. He had never met an opponent who he was confident could take his all. Until Deathman. The idea that there was someone who could take all the absolute power Komosube could give, until he strained even his own limits, until he could not stand for hitting that hard...the idea that someone might be able to take that...frightened him, and he knew he had to fight Deathman. To fight someone with power he feared...He grinned wide, blood pumping at the idea. He wanted to see, he wanted to see Deathman GET UP, watch him take it, and STAND TO HIS FEET. Deathman was one of the few he respected, and to fight the man, one on one...Now, his lungs were burning, and it was time, time to stand up, or die.
Every punch Komosube landed to your skull, every slam, every smash, every hit, made you LIVE, in a way you haven't felt since coming to GiW. Something in the pain...revived you. You know it will be the same way against Andy Savana. You've seen him, recently, seen his eyes, and while others don't understand what the eyes mean, you know. That isn't Andy Savana, not the man they talk about and speak to. There was something...something IN Savana, and you could recognize without a moment of doubt that whatever was in there, was an intruder. You...relate? No. Your mind shows you lies, but the lies don't take over, you don't think your the illusion. Andy Savana is one of the true who understands truth, in it's purest form. Truth in pain, truth in inflicting it, truth in taking it. He's one of the few who understands...your to see him this Sentinel, your to watch him react, watch this New One, if he helps Andy, or if he hinders. Your to see if a New Opponent emerges, so you may prepare accordingly when you face Them. The stipulations of the match are irrelevant. Merely fight him until it's impossible for one of you to fight further. You understand this. You need to see if the Imposter knows this, as Savana would know.
He tapped the ice above him. 6 inches thick, and solid. Though his lungs begged him for air, he ignored the plea. If he could not escape this, if he could not win over himself, he did not deserve to win the Title. He would either reign in his wants and rage, or he would die. Simple. Walking along the bottom of the pool, he felt along, feeling the weakest point of the ice. From there, he punched, upward, right fist never faltering in tempo, and even underwater like it was, the force was tremendous. Still, the ice didn't budge, and Aito briefly accepted that he may die. After realizing his mortality, he would open his eyes, and with no sense of urgency, he would punch. Not faster. But...harder. He saw the hairline crack, saw it fracture, and for 4 more minutes he punched, until his fist broke through the ice, and only then would his eyes widen in desperation, at the thought of air. The rest of the ice was simply broken, and he broke through, choking and weezing, inhaling deep breath fulls of air, panting and shivering from the cold. He looked around at the indoor gym, and broke through the ice, smashing with his arms until he cleaved a path to the edge of the pool. He rolled up onto solid earth, and after a 2 minute nap, he went into the heated dressing room, to towel off and relax. He was still smiling of the thought of parading his belt over BoolZ's, letting the shithead know who the real Champion was.
(We see Chinatsu speaking rapid-fire Japanese on the hallway payphone, eyes wide, sounding angry at the person on the other end. We see yellow subtitles as she speaks. We can hear enough to hear that the muffled voice on the other end is male.)
Chinatsu: Hey, dummy! Don't sound so fucking angry, ok? No...*listening* LISTEN TO ME!!!!!! *silence on the other end* I don't care what you heard, I haven't even met Chris Austin yet! Even if I would, if I was going to jump him like that I'd dump you first! Why lead someone on? *rapid-fire Japanese on the other end* I'M NOT GOING TO, STUPID! WE WOULDN'T BE ARGUING IF I DIDN'T WANT TO SAVE THIS STUPID THING! Fucking A...I'M HANGING UP NOW!
(Chinatsu slams the phone down on the receiver, and storms off as it falls off the hook. We follow her around, and see she is wearing whatever is the rage in Tokyo right now. Stylish looking clothes, but cheap kind of stylish, unlike certain Billion Dollar Queens here, she looks like she's wise with a dollar. We see her approach the locker room, and rapid fire bang on the door. After a moment, Chris Austin opens the door, garbed in only a towel, sleek with sweat. He's got the towel so that we see that pelvis two-pack thing going on, you know that REALLY toned and built guys have. He looks very calm, but after a second gets wide eyes at Chinatsu. He does a double take, in his bedroom, and glances back to her, quickly.)
Austin: Wha- How'd you...
Chinatsu(in perfect English): Out of the way!
(Chinatsu abruptly pushes the confused Sexy Shaman out the way. The camera doesn't follow her, but but we hear loud Japanese arguing between two girls, and she returns in a second.)
Chinatsu(In perfect English): That's my twin sister! Machiko! She's a total (Japanese, but it didn't sound nice, as the girl from the other room is cursing out Chinatsu.)!!
Austin: Oh...well, hey, long as we've got this cleared up, wanna go out for some coffee...?
(Austin's brow raises, but is staggered back as Chinatsu after exclaiming, straight punches Austin in the sternum. He doesn't react at first, but as we see Chinatsu storm off, we see Austin quietly groan and feel his sternum softly. We hear Machiko calling out to Austin.)
Austin: Shut up, you. Getting me into trouble...someone's getting chili dogged...
Machiko:...Whoah, wait, what...!
(Camera cuts to Chinatsu, far away and not hearing any of this. her face is flushed, and she is fanning herself slightly. She's just met her God, after all. Crimson pops up behind.)
Crimson Ghost: Hey, ya. Want some skittles?
Chinatsu: No...
Crimson Ghost: Good. I don't wanna give them...They are the greatest Skittles in the Free World...
(They each sit there, each obviously preoccupied with things on their minds, as the scene fades with Chinatsu biting her bottom lip and smiling, eyes reflecting on something. Crimson is just eating the skittles, inhaling deep after each one. END OF SCENE.)
OOC: Yeah, I really don't like coming up with titles. Go figure. And, the Chinatsu scene up above? I had to debut her MAD early due to an incident in former Hardcore Champion Chris Austin's post. It's also why she has an identical twin.
Oi fuckin' vey, man...
