Post by The Crimson Ghost! on Feb 7, 2009 19:59:42 GMT -5
No, it wasn't the best of days. I sat across from Declan in his office, face melting into my palm, elbow on the arm of the chair I was in. I was in, what else, my mask, and because I felt like it, the rest of my Body. No, I didn't have a match, but I felt naked without it...felt unnatural. They saw my meat, no epidermis to protect against their eyes. Madnessmadnessmadnessmadnes-
Dear God, man, your losing it! My eyes widened, and I sat up straighter in my chair, shaking out the cobwebs, idly wondering where Chinatsu went to after her loss last night...Wait, what was that doofus with the stupid hair saying?!
"Whoah, whoah, what was that, Emperor Prescott??"
Declan merely "smiled" at the title, part of his face pretending to take offense, the hidden place behind the eyes glinting at unvoiced fantasies of Absolute Power, perhaps not even realized. He spoke again, slower, and I nodded, listening.
"Ehh, look, Crimson, I really don't know how to tell-"
"Ghost."
He stopped what he was saying, all focused on his elaborate power speech, he couldn't quite grasp the nature of my outburst.
"I, uhh...what?"
I spoke again, mask masking my emotions. I liked when people were thrown off, ever so slightly, like now.
"Crimson Ghost is the name. Not Crimson. Not Ghost."
With that I winked once, and Declan furrowed his brows, a little peeved at the interruption.
"Very sorry, Crimson. Ghost. Err, anyway...Well, it seems that the state is throwing some red tape my way, and for now, I am not allowed to give you your paycheck. You know, they don't like me paying someone without knowing their name, address, social security...Essentially, they discourage the hiring of Ghosts..."
My eyes narrowed, and I made my hands do that pyramid thing evil geniuses did. I leaned forward in my chair, and spoke quickly, a little miffed.
"Ah. Bummer. This sudden economic buggering courtesy of California State Law wouldn't happen to coincide with my association with a certain tubby Global World Champion, would it, Oh Fearless Leader?"
For a second Declan stared back, until the full meaning of my miniature tirade clicked, and his eyes widened at the thought, and right then I could tell it probably wasn't some mind game of his.
"Hey, look, any business I may have with Komosube, will be discussed with Komosube, and Komosube himself. I have no reason to resort to petty tactics, such as cutting off your pay."
He straightened out his suit, a shade such dark blue it was almost black in certain lighting. Under which he wore a smooth shirt the most subtle shade of peach the human eye could detect. He spoke again, rising to his feet while he did so.
"In fact, the thought of any GiW employee going without pay is one I find uncomfortable, for a multitude of reasons."
"Legal, or moral?"
"Both, actually. Now, the fact is, they frown upon your role as 'manager,' for some reason, they feel that your current role, combined with your...eccentricities regarding your identity, do not give enough to the company to warrant us paying you...following, so far?"
I merely followed him with my eyes, leaning back in the chair, eventually twirling my fingers in a 'get on with it' motion. He smirked to himself, and continued. I ignored the sound of rats or something in the air ducts.
"Well, I was actually thinking of a solution...How about, if we state you as a 'wrestler,' that way we slip past the white collar stiffs?"
At this I began shaking my head, holding up my hand in a 'stop' gesture.
"Hey, I'm here to manage Chinatsu, I don't wanna do anything that might upstage her career here, man..."
At this Declan smirked, and cut me off, assuring me.
"Hey, I respect that, I understand you aren't looking for chaos...but, get this, I'm not gonna book you in anything but the occasional, like, mixed tag match, or something. Look, I assure you, this is Chinatsu's show, for as long as you feel that way. I just don't want the Crimson Ghost to starve or something. Bad publicity."
He held out his hand, eyes sincere enough, and after thinking carefully, I sprung to my feet, boots sinking in the chair cushion, looking down at the perplexed(but wide-grinning) jerk, shaking the hand enthusiastically.
"Hell, why not, right? Guess I better lace my boots a bit tighter now, huh?"
With that I hopped off the chair, walking toward the door. I was almost out the door when...
"Hey, wait a sec."
I half turned around to see Declan approaching, his hand in his inner coat-pocket. I looked down as he pulled out the wad of money, with the golden clip to keep it organized. He pulled off $200 of the dollars, and slipped them into my hand.
"Hey, until we get the paperwork settled...again, sorry for this, man."
I grinned under the Skull visage, and one could tell it somewhat unnerved The Spleen and Quads of GiW, though it didn't appear on his face much. If we fought in a match...God help me, I'm not quite sure which one of us would win! Of course, I've never expected any of my victories, so maybe I wasn't the best judge of opponents.
"Hey, it happens, right? Besides, I blame the Kindergarten Cop, not you! Not like you let this happen..."
I clapped him on the back, and departed from the room, secretly cataloging the perfume I smelled as I left. Oh, god, yes that was her. It had taken me 16 hours of driving around all the malls in the area, but I had finally smelled Her fragrance, and now my pillow never went 20 hours without being doused by the stuff. My knees went a little weak, but I toughened up, and remembered the mission, going forth to find Chinatsu. First stop? Hiroshima's locker room. I wasn't too worried about Komosube. I mean, so what, the guy lost a match. Not like the guy was gonna go ballistic...
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"OH, FUCK!"
I narrowly avoided the dumbbell, crashing through the wall. The large Sumo was screaming in rage, voice hoarse with Japanese curses and just general Berzerker Rage. A quick look around the room saw the floor covered with beer bottles and cans, enough to kill most animals, including humans that didn't wrestle professionally. Suddenly, I wished I had paid more attention when Nagatomi tried to teach me Japanese. I couldn't see that little guy around anywhere, so I stuttered out the words.
"H-Hey...uhh, you ok?"
"GET OUT! YOU UNDERSTAND ME, YOU FUCKING SHIT FOR BRAINS?! THE BITCH ISN'T HERE, AND IF SHE WAS I'D FUCKING KILL HER FOR LOOKING AT ME!"
Apparantely, He wanted me to 'get' something, and that someone wasn't here. Presumably Chinatsu. I had the information I needed...but, I couldn't just leave the guy, still in his sumo thong from the previous night, covered in cold sweat and filth, unable to stand from his massive binge and rampage. I spoke out...
"H-Hey...Big B...not tough! Uhh, You! You...more tougher...Time you shit him kick next, understand?? Uhh...I, I could help you...I know tactics, he, watched tapes..."
His eyes were red with veins, and were watching me intently, with an intensity that I didn't appreciate looking at me. When I finished my jumbled mess, his drunken brain took a while to register it all...unfortunately, I think my pronunciation needed work...He stood, and in a blink of an eye had me around the throat, both hands slamming my back against the wall, over even his head. I had fought him once before in some underground Japanese fed. He was more wild, then, wild and brutish, like any other massive heavyweight wrestler. Now, however, he was truly a beast...He began screaming at me, and instantly I regretted waking up today.
"...What you saying, spandexed buffoon?! Komosube can't cut it without your fucking help?! That he needs something other then his own Might and Superiority?! KOMOSUBE NEEDS HIMSELF, AND HIMSELF ONLY, SKELETON SHITHEAD!! I'LL EARN THIS TITLE WITH THE BROKEN BODIES OF ALL WHO OPPOSE ME!! THINK I NEED YOU OR ANYONE ELSE DOING MY WORK FOR ME?!!! FUCK YOU AND FUCK EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU!!!!"
I was pretty sure he had a problem with Skeletons, and I tried to tell him it was only a costume, maybe pat his head or pretend to steal his nose, but the lack of air was making everything dizy. I almost a thankful for the sudden motion, being flung from Komosube's grip, until I realized moments before impact that he had thrown me to the opposite wall. I turned at the last second, my back smashing into the plaster, absolutely rocked from the impact. I didn't notice dropping to my knees, or that my eyes were rolling every which way, like billiard balls that were rolling in place. A part of me was tensed, ready for the guy to press the offensive, wondering if a dropkick to the groin at this point would disable him or just hurt like hell and make him angry. I looked up, hazy, to see the man crumpled, a strange mix of choked almost crying and Death Threats to anything that moved(or was just around.). I was to one foot, trying not to fall on my face, when I felt an arm underneath my frame, helping me walk. I was almost out the door when I saw and saw that little guy, Aragato, pushing me out into the hallway. I was about to step back in and demand to know where the fuck Chinatsu was, but the angry little fucker pushed me out with the fastest Superkick to the chest I had ever taken, and I staggered back, rubbing my sternum when the door closed, and locked. Jesus, what the fuck?!
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Thank god for that Austin guy. Though reformed from the ways of Pervdom(we always recognized our own, though.), the man couldn't help but notice the fine shape, and give me the proper headings. Personally, I was a little surprised, but wasn't really judging. The only reason I really cared to dissuade her was as her manager, but if it failed...ah, oh well. My AMC Hornet was still as unreliable as ever, but oh man did it bring memories...Going 65 down the Freeway, one arm lazily at the wheel, the other changing shifts like a second nature. The Rubber Soul album from the Beatles was keeping me company, and this was a good place to be...
What the?!
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the strangest sight...a bright yellow SUV whipped by at about 70 or so, but the ugly automobile wasn't the strange thing. From the passenger side, was an outstretched hand, a ladies' hand, clearly, but...it was thick and plump, a sort of thickness that instantly let you know the rest of the body would be...massive, to say the least. The nails painted red, it was the kind of hand that would look quite dainty were it not so large. But that in ITSELF was not the strange part. From this hand, it gripped tight a pair of the largest purple panties, shaking the briefs in the cold wind. It was as if the hand was trying to dry them off, or some several things that I could not fathom. I was transfixed until I almost crashed, and snapped out of it, getting off at my exit, and making my destination...
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The tavern was smoky and dark, never too lively 2 in the afternoon. I walked past the riffraff hiding from themselves, and found my target. There she was, sitting on the stool, chin resting on her wrists, moping slightly. She was staring at an unopened bottle of beer, the glass sweating with so much time unrefrigerated. She wore simple jeans and a top. I sat next to her. She took no notice, a fact that did not surprise me.
"You don't look like you belong here."
She raised her brow, looking at me from the corner of her eye, looking to size me up. After a moment, she looked away again, sighing. She had applied lip balm to her...lips recently, I could tell.
"Not looking to hook up. Please go away."
I smirked slightly, and shook my head. "Neither am I. Simply a concerned human being. Now, c'mon, let's get out of here, we have a lot of work to do!"
At this she craned her head, and her brows furrowed in concern. She looked at me, completely confused, half thinking me completely in the wrong place, and the other half probably thinking me some kind of creep. Sighing, I looked at her.
"C'mon, you don't recognize me?"
She shook her head, eyes wide. I recognized the way her body tensed, and knew I was in serious danger of being destroyed. I looked around, always paranoid when mixing both worlds, and gestured for her to come closer. After a second, she did lean in a little, though her body language was no different...
I absolutely whispered, but she would be able to hear...
"Chinatsu. It's me."
At this she gasped, eyes wide now, looking around, doing a double take. I was half concerned she was going to blurt out my identity, even protective among the dredges of Socal. However, she kept her mouth shut, and we walked out to the car, where I informed her of her title match this week.
On our way out, a homeless man was panhandling for money, frying in the heat. As we walked by, I pulled out of my pocket my wallet, and gave the guy a $100.
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"Komosube."
He almost didn't register his own name, lost in his misery. He still couldn't defeat Big B, after all this time, he couldn't bring it within him to best that black fat fucker! Where had he gone wrong?! It was...It was taking the time to taunt, to treat it like he had it won...He'd let the swell of the cheers and the moment get to him, and he had been destroyed because of it...But, no more...Shit, he'd go there, right now if need be! The idea of strangling that fucking waste of space, show him the better of the two, prove he could GET IT DONE, prove he could-
"Komosube!"
Komosube registered his own name, and looked up from his hands and knees to look up at Aragato, perplexed, and a little annoyed. What did he want?! What was the purpose of-THUD!
The fist came down to hard, and so fast, it drove Komosube's face into the concrete floor, blood spraying from his nose at the attack. It was a hard hit, and for a second Komosube almost knocked out, before straining and forcing himself back up, to his knees, teeth grit, rage at this betrayal. But, he couldn't quite believe it.
"Aragato, what is-"
Aragato's left knee came up quick and stiff, smashing Aito in the cheek, sending the other half of the massive frame into the concrete floor, hard. This time he got up slower, on the very ends of his reserves, finding it difficult to function...Nonetheless, he lunged forward, grabbing at the throat of Aragato, Komosube standing, snarling, and using his mighty strength to-
be smashed back down into the floor, after his hold was broken, Aragato's head smashed hard into Komosube's sternum, and being thrown off his feet, head-first into the ground, HARD. Of course, all this combined, would knock Komosube unconscious, and he would stay there for some time, not waking for a day and a half. He didn't dream. It was only merciful darkness, riddled not with nightmares or concerns.
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I glanced once at Chinatsu, on our way to Chinatsu's place, then to the place where I transformed. She was looking pretty down, and I had to say something, right?
"Hey, c'mon, why so glum?"
She spoke from her side of the car, head against the window. Now she looked at me, as I snuck glances at her while keeping my overall attention on the road.
"I wanted my first match to go well! Instead, I get taken down by a Roll-Up! Are you kidding me?! It wasn't even a loss due to superior skill, or anything respectable. I just let my eyes off the opponent, and paid the price just like any stupid sap..."
I chuckled slightly, memories of various losses flooding my brain. "Hey, you shouldn't get so discouraged! Frankly, you were on fire. Hell, it got you a title defense, right?? So your performance couldn't have been all that bad, right??"
She shrugged. "I guess so. Have you seen Aito?"
"Komosube? Yeah, I, uhh, we had some words, when I was looking for you. Why?"
Her eyes reflected great melancholy, presumably for her family member.
"That title and his pride are driving him fucking crazy...Why do they have to play such headgames with him?! Why can't they just attack him, or try to find someone they think is better to put up against him?? Why do they have to stoop so low?!"
Her eyes were watering, even as I started changing to the far right lane, our exit comming up. "They are attacking him, kid, but they're doing it their own way. I've known guys like this often. They want all the gold, all the glory, but none of the REAL work. They don't want the possibility of losing. Not really much we can do about it, other then pat Komosube's back once and a while, and hope he doesn't let it consume him. I think he's gonna be ok, though."
I pulled up by the hotel, and looked over. she had a single tear going down her cheek, clearly pained over Komosube's dilemna, but she gave a soft smile, before speaking.
"I think so too. Hey, thanks for getting me. Sorry I'm so fucking mopey today, but I want you to know. I really appreciate that you care this much."
I smiled, and brought my hand out, softly wiping away her tears with my thumb before speaking. "Hey. I've been there. Hey, get the fuck inside, I've gotta go gear up...
And she stepped into her room, and I left, to re-don my Face, almost shuddering as my skin latched to me, eager to stay this time.
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SOME TIME LATER:
Komosube wasn't exactly sure what time he woke up, but something was in his nose. Groaning softly, he did not move until what felt like many hours later, placing both feet on the Earth and pushing the World down, away from his face. It seemed hesitant to part ways with the cement, and Komosube heard the sticky sound usually made when your shoe rips from the theater floor. He tried to force air out his mouth, but only small quantities came through, and he brought one hand up, to feel the dried, caked material, ripping some away, the stuff stuck in his nose actually still wet when it was pulled away. The pain was fresh, tender, but Komosube merely winced and ignored it, pulling the blood from his nose, sucking in air that caused the entire bridge to flame with pain, the intensity of it slowly waking him up. He welcomed it, grinned wide as his bruised bones groaned at him now, bringing him back into the world. He felt disgusting, body caked with sweat and filth, and he forced himself to his feet, staggering softly to the bath.
Later, as the water steamed and turned his skin pink, and he was scrubbed clean by his own hand, he groaned, sinking into the water, folded towel over his eyes. He was playing their game, and his behavior, that which he remembered, caused him shame. Chinatsu hadn't deserved his outburst, and her teacher hadn't deserved his violence hours later. He let a simple loss enrage him, had let his anxieties over his Title Win come to surface. Disgusting, and beneath the Chen family. His father wouldn't throw such a tantrum, and if he had, his wife Chou would have set him straight. Komosube groaned and pressed the mouse on his cheek, reaching beyond the tub for the antiseptic. He remembered the most vicious beating from Aragato, and he was thankful for the wake-up call. His friend saw him struggling, had seen him growing petty and small, and had taken drastic measures to stop the Transformation. Komosube had been immersed into a baptism of pain, and had woken up a changed man. And now, he had a tag match with Brandon Brown, a rival and competitor...He highly respected the small roundeye, simpleton though he was, related though he was to that fucking waste of space Big B, and was aware that one crucial way he could fuck over the 'Revolution's' plan was to befriend the rival...Yes, that was the way, to meet the man not with rage and power, but with skill and strength, win or lose...However, that was not for right now...Right now, he needed to talk to Travis Roberts.
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(Chinatsu is standing backstage, in her ring gear, and beside her is none other then Daniel Hanson, wearing a pair of raybands, stylish looking clothes, and holding a microphone, the tips of his hair frosted to look 'cool' and 'stylish.')
Hanson: Yo yo, what up ladies and bitches?!!! Here we are, backstage! Now, I'm well aware that I am not a journalist, but an announcer, but folks, I have decided to take an exception to the lovely, sensational...Chinatsu Chen. How ya feelin', babe?
(brings the mic over to Chinatsu, who laughs and nods.)
Chen: Babe, huh? I guess I should be flattered. *laughs* Ahh, I'm feeling good, been training nonstop for next Sentinel, actually, so there's not a lot to say about my life at the moment.
Hanson: Yeah, I understand, you can't have any distractions going in for the title, can you?
Chen: Hell no! You have to go in with no other thought then what your opponents are up to, and how your going to stop their gameplan and walk away.
Hanson: F(bleep!)ing A!
(Both laugh heartily, Hanson chewing his gum obnoxiously as he does so, but Chen doesn't seem to notice.)
Hanson: Ahh, man, I do love how you appreciate the finer points of humor...But, I gotta ask, it's been on everyone's mind, mine for sure...your loss against Gabrielle. You hold a grudge? You hoping to maybe get a little revenge in this time around?
(Chen bites her bottom lip, thinking about her answer, while in the background we see Crimson Ghost leaning against a snack table, perusing the baby carrots and banana nut muffins, enjoying himself. We see Brandon Brown walk up to him, and the two begin exchanging dialogue.)
Chen: That's a good question, Hanson-
Hanson: Please, call me Daniel. *flashes smile*
(Chen grins and nods.)
Chen: Ok, I can do that...But, going to your question, I was a little bummed when I lost, yeah. I mean, it's my debut, right?! But, as to seeking 'Vengeance,' or getting angry at Gabrielle because I let my guard down and got pinned, isn't going to do anything except give me ulcers later in life. No, what I can do, is I can learn from my mistake, make sure I don't underestimate my opponent again, and make sure I put both my opponents down and take away that Man Championship.
Hanson: C'mon, you can't seriously sit there and think of McSkinny as anything but cannon fodder.
(Chen looks at him dryly, while backstage Brandon seems to be getting into some altercation with Crimson, possibly over the last Yoohoo. Crimson pushes McSkinny away, and turns his back, only to get slammed in the back of the head with that Title. Crimson jerks forward, and rubbing his head, turns around, flicking McSkinny in the ear angrily, causing the young man to recoil, holding the ear in pain, dropping the title. Crimson Ghost picks up the title.)
Chen: Excuse me? I know he's been some running 'joke' or something here, but ignoring the fact that he's crafty enough to pin the likes of Misery, a true athlete and threat to any would-be competitor, we're in a triple threat, and ignoring one person in favor of another has proven time and time again to cost people that crucial win. I don't intend on making any more dumb mistakes, Daniel.
Hanson: Wow, for a rookie you have a keen sense of strategy. I'm impressed.
Chen: Well, wrestling's in my blood...I can't help but over analyze and fret. I'm totally gonna age 20 years before I hit 30.
Hanson: No! No, no, I'm sure you'll always be very...easy on the eye.
(Chen smirks and raises her brow, even as behind them Crimson Ghost is keeping the title out of arm's reach, other hand over Brandon's face, keeping him from grabbing the title, clearly having some words with the youth. Neither Hanson or Chen notice.)
Chen: Oh, nonstop with the flattery? It's kind of cute how relentless you are, in a...pervy kind of way.
Hanson:...Eh, I'll take that as a compliment...Gotta pick your battles, I say.
Chen: *laughter* Oh! That reminds me, I went and got you a gift!
(Chen reaches off camera, into a large black plastic bag, and Hanson begins laughing really hard as she pulls out a gym bag, offering it to Hanson, who is now on the floor, face red. Crimson Ghost left the scene moments ago, and now Brandon is on the floor, grabbing the title and with some effort hoists it back around his shoulder, wincing. Chen approaches the young buck, and McSkinny looks REAL apprehensive and fearful, until Chen bows to him, and shakes his hand, amazed as he is given nice words by the Chen family member.)
END.
OOC: Ok, the 'rats' in Declan's office air vents, is Brandon McSkinny. The thing on the Freeway really happened to my Dad, and I really fucked up in having 18 year old Chinatsu Chen sitting at a bar, looking at a beer. Oh well. And we can see Komosube and Brandon Brown's friendship in Brown's promo that he wrote the same week. It was funny as shit.
Dear God, man, your losing it! My eyes widened, and I sat up straighter in my chair, shaking out the cobwebs, idly wondering where Chinatsu went to after her loss last night...Wait, what was that doofus with the stupid hair saying?!
"Whoah, whoah, what was that, Emperor Prescott??"
Declan merely "smiled" at the title, part of his face pretending to take offense, the hidden place behind the eyes glinting at unvoiced fantasies of Absolute Power, perhaps not even realized. He spoke again, slower, and I nodded, listening.
"Ehh, look, Crimson, I really don't know how to tell-"
"Ghost."
He stopped what he was saying, all focused on his elaborate power speech, he couldn't quite grasp the nature of my outburst.
"I, uhh...what?"
I spoke again, mask masking my emotions. I liked when people were thrown off, ever so slightly, like now.
"Crimson Ghost is the name. Not Crimson. Not Ghost."
With that I winked once, and Declan furrowed his brows, a little peeved at the interruption.
"Very sorry, Crimson. Ghost. Err, anyway...Well, it seems that the state is throwing some red tape my way, and for now, I am not allowed to give you your paycheck. You know, they don't like me paying someone without knowing their name, address, social security...Essentially, they discourage the hiring of Ghosts..."
My eyes narrowed, and I made my hands do that pyramid thing evil geniuses did. I leaned forward in my chair, and spoke quickly, a little miffed.
"Ah. Bummer. This sudden economic buggering courtesy of California State Law wouldn't happen to coincide with my association with a certain tubby Global World Champion, would it, Oh Fearless Leader?"
For a second Declan stared back, until the full meaning of my miniature tirade clicked, and his eyes widened at the thought, and right then I could tell it probably wasn't some mind game of his.
"Hey, look, any business I may have with Komosube, will be discussed with Komosube, and Komosube himself. I have no reason to resort to petty tactics, such as cutting off your pay."
He straightened out his suit, a shade such dark blue it was almost black in certain lighting. Under which he wore a smooth shirt the most subtle shade of peach the human eye could detect. He spoke again, rising to his feet while he did so.
"In fact, the thought of any GiW employee going without pay is one I find uncomfortable, for a multitude of reasons."
"Legal, or moral?"
"Both, actually. Now, the fact is, they frown upon your role as 'manager,' for some reason, they feel that your current role, combined with your...eccentricities regarding your identity, do not give enough to the company to warrant us paying you...following, so far?"
I merely followed him with my eyes, leaning back in the chair, eventually twirling my fingers in a 'get on with it' motion. He smirked to himself, and continued. I ignored the sound of rats or something in the air ducts.
"Well, I was actually thinking of a solution...How about, if we state you as a 'wrestler,' that way we slip past the white collar stiffs?"
At this I began shaking my head, holding up my hand in a 'stop' gesture.
"Hey, I'm here to manage Chinatsu, I don't wanna do anything that might upstage her career here, man..."
At this Declan smirked, and cut me off, assuring me.
"Hey, I respect that, I understand you aren't looking for chaos...but, get this, I'm not gonna book you in anything but the occasional, like, mixed tag match, or something. Look, I assure you, this is Chinatsu's show, for as long as you feel that way. I just don't want the Crimson Ghost to starve or something. Bad publicity."
He held out his hand, eyes sincere enough, and after thinking carefully, I sprung to my feet, boots sinking in the chair cushion, looking down at the perplexed(but wide-grinning) jerk, shaking the hand enthusiastically.
"Hell, why not, right? Guess I better lace my boots a bit tighter now, huh?"
With that I hopped off the chair, walking toward the door. I was almost out the door when...
"Hey, wait a sec."
I half turned around to see Declan approaching, his hand in his inner coat-pocket. I looked down as he pulled out the wad of money, with the golden clip to keep it organized. He pulled off $200 of the dollars, and slipped them into my hand.
"Hey, until we get the paperwork settled...again, sorry for this, man."
I grinned under the Skull visage, and one could tell it somewhat unnerved The Spleen and Quads of GiW, though it didn't appear on his face much. If we fought in a match...God help me, I'm not quite sure which one of us would win! Of course, I've never expected any of my victories, so maybe I wasn't the best judge of opponents.
"Hey, it happens, right? Besides, I blame the Kindergarten Cop, not you! Not like you let this happen..."
I clapped him on the back, and departed from the room, secretly cataloging the perfume I smelled as I left. Oh, god, yes that was her. It had taken me 16 hours of driving around all the malls in the area, but I had finally smelled Her fragrance, and now my pillow never went 20 hours without being doused by the stuff. My knees went a little weak, but I toughened up, and remembered the mission, going forth to find Chinatsu. First stop? Hiroshima's locker room. I wasn't too worried about Komosube. I mean, so what, the guy lost a match. Not like the guy was gonna go ballistic...
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"OH, FUCK!"
I narrowly avoided the dumbbell, crashing through the wall. The large Sumo was screaming in rage, voice hoarse with Japanese curses and just general Berzerker Rage. A quick look around the room saw the floor covered with beer bottles and cans, enough to kill most animals, including humans that didn't wrestle professionally. Suddenly, I wished I had paid more attention when Nagatomi tried to teach me Japanese. I couldn't see that little guy around anywhere, so I stuttered out the words.
"H-Hey...uhh, you ok?"
"GET OUT! YOU UNDERSTAND ME, YOU FUCKING SHIT FOR BRAINS?! THE BITCH ISN'T HERE, AND IF SHE WAS I'D FUCKING KILL HER FOR LOOKING AT ME!"
Apparantely, He wanted me to 'get' something, and that someone wasn't here. Presumably Chinatsu. I had the information I needed...but, I couldn't just leave the guy, still in his sumo thong from the previous night, covered in cold sweat and filth, unable to stand from his massive binge and rampage. I spoke out...
"H-Hey...Big B...not tough! Uhh, You! You...more tougher...Time you shit him kick next, understand?? Uhh...I, I could help you...I know tactics, he, watched tapes..."
His eyes were red with veins, and were watching me intently, with an intensity that I didn't appreciate looking at me. When I finished my jumbled mess, his drunken brain took a while to register it all...unfortunately, I think my pronunciation needed work...He stood, and in a blink of an eye had me around the throat, both hands slamming my back against the wall, over even his head. I had fought him once before in some underground Japanese fed. He was more wild, then, wild and brutish, like any other massive heavyweight wrestler. Now, however, he was truly a beast...He began screaming at me, and instantly I regretted waking up today.
"...What you saying, spandexed buffoon?! Komosube can't cut it without your fucking help?! That he needs something other then his own Might and Superiority?! KOMOSUBE NEEDS HIMSELF, AND HIMSELF ONLY, SKELETON SHITHEAD!! I'LL EARN THIS TITLE WITH THE BROKEN BODIES OF ALL WHO OPPOSE ME!! THINK I NEED YOU OR ANYONE ELSE DOING MY WORK FOR ME?!!! FUCK YOU AND FUCK EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU!!!!"
I was pretty sure he had a problem with Skeletons, and I tried to tell him it was only a costume, maybe pat his head or pretend to steal his nose, but the lack of air was making everything dizy. I almost a thankful for the sudden motion, being flung from Komosube's grip, until I realized moments before impact that he had thrown me to the opposite wall. I turned at the last second, my back smashing into the plaster, absolutely rocked from the impact. I didn't notice dropping to my knees, or that my eyes were rolling every which way, like billiard balls that were rolling in place. A part of me was tensed, ready for the guy to press the offensive, wondering if a dropkick to the groin at this point would disable him or just hurt like hell and make him angry. I looked up, hazy, to see the man crumpled, a strange mix of choked almost crying and Death Threats to anything that moved(or was just around.). I was to one foot, trying not to fall on my face, when I felt an arm underneath my frame, helping me walk. I was almost out the door when I saw and saw that little guy, Aragato, pushing me out into the hallway. I was about to step back in and demand to know where the fuck Chinatsu was, but the angry little fucker pushed me out with the fastest Superkick to the chest I had ever taken, and I staggered back, rubbing my sternum when the door closed, and locked. Jesus, what the fuck?!
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Thank god for that Austin guy. Though reformed from the ways of Pervdom(we always recognized our own, though.), the man couldn't help but notice the fine shape, and give me the proper headings. Personally, I was a little surprised, but wasn't really judging. The only reason I really cared to dissuade her was as her manager, but if it failed...ah, oh well. My AMC Hornet was still as unreliable as ever, but oh man did it bring memories...Going 65 down the Freeway, one arm lazily at the wheel, the other changing shifts like a second nature. The Rubber Soul album from the Beatles was keeping me company, and this was a good place to be...
What the?!
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the strangest sight...a bright yellow SUV whipped by at about 70 or so, but the ugly automobile wasn't the strange thing. From the passenger side, was an outstretched hand, a ladies' hand, clearly, but...it was thick and plump, a sort of thickness that instantly let you know the rest of the body would be...massive, to say the least. The nails painted red, it was the kind of hand that would look quite dainty were it not so large. But that in ITSELF was not the strange part. From this hand, it gripped tight a pair of the largest purple panties, shaking the briefs in the cold wind. It was as if the hand was trying to dry them off, or some several things that I could not fathom. I was transfixed until I almost crashed, and snapped out of it, getting off at my exit, and making my destination...
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The tavern was smoky and dark, never too lively 2 in the afternoon. I walked past the riffraff hiding from themselves, and found my target. There she was, sitting on the stool, chin resting on her wrists, moping slightly. She was staring at an unopened bottle of beer, the glass sweating with so much time unrefrigerated. She wore simple jeans and a top. I sat next to her. She took no notice, a fact that did not surprise me.
"You don't look like you belong here."
She raised her brow, looking at me from the corner of her eye, looking to size me up. After a moment, she looked away again, sighing. She had applied lip balm to her...lips recently, I could tell.
"Not looking to hook up. Please go away."
I smirked slightly, and shook my head. "Neither am I. Simply a concerned human being. Now, c'mon, let's get out of here, we have a lot of work to do!"
At this she craned her head, and her brows furrowed in concern. She looked at me, completely confused, half thinking me completely in the wrong place, and the other half probably thinking me some kind of creep. Sighing, I looked at her.
"C'mon, you don't recognize me?"
She shook her head, eyes wide. I recognized the way her body tensed, and knew I was in serious danger of being destroyed. I looked around, always paranoid when mixing both worlds, and gestured for her to come closer. After a second, she did lean in a little, though her body language was no different...
I absolutely whispered, but she would be able to hear...
"Chinatsu. It's me."
At this she gasped, eyes wide now, looking around, doing a double take. I was half concerned she was going to blurt out my identity, even protective among the dredges of Socal. However, she kept her mouth shut, and we walked out to the car, where I informed her of her title match this week.
On our way out, a homeless man was panhandling for money, frying in the heat. As we walked by, I pulled out of my pocket my wallet, and gave the guy a $100.
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"Komosube."
He almost didn't register his own name, lost in his misery. He still couldn't defeat Big B, after all this time, he couldn't bring it within him to best that black fat fucker! Where had he gone wrong?! It was...It was taking the time to taunt, to treat it like he had it won...He'd let the swell of the cheers and the moment get to him, and he had been destroyed because of it...But, no more...Shit, he'd go there, right now if need be! The idea of strangling that fucking waste of space, show him the better of the two, prove he could GET IT DONE, prove he could-
"Komosube!"
Komosube registered his own name, and looked up from his hands and knees to look up at Aragato, perplexed, and a little annoyed. What did he want?! What was the purpose of-THUD!
The fist came down to hard, and so fast, it drove Komosube's face into the concrete floor, blood spraying from his nose at the attack. It was a hard hit, and for a second Komosube almost knocked out, before straining and forcing himself back up, to his knees, teeth grit, rage at this betrayal. But, he couldn't quite believe it.
"Aragato, what is-"
Aragato's left knee came up quick and stiff, smashing Aito in the cheek, sending the other half of the massive frame into the concrete floor, hard. This time he got up slower, on the very ends of his reserves, finding it difficult to function...Nonetheless, he lunged forward, grabbing at the throat of Aragato, Komosube standing, snarling, and using his mighty strength to-
be smashed back down into the floor, after his hold was broken, Aragato's head smashed hard into Komosube's sternum, and being thrown off his feet, head-first into the ground, HARD. Of course, all this combined, would knock Komosube unconscious, and he would stay there for some time, not waking for a day and a half. He didn't dream. It was only merciful darkness, riddled not with nightmares or concerns.
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I glanced once at Chinatsu, on our way to Chinatsu's place, then to the place where I transformed. She was looking pretty down, and I had to say something, right?
"Hey, c'mon, why so glum?"
She spoke from her side of the car, head against the window. Now she looked at me, as I snuck glances at her while keeping my overall attention on the road.
"I wanted my first match to go well! Instead, I get taken down by a Roll-Up! Are you kidding me?! It wasn't even a loss due to superior skill, or anything respectable. I just let my eyes off the opponent, and paid the price just like any stupid sap..."
I chuckled slightly, memories of various losses flooding my brain. "Hey, you shouldn't get so discouraged! Frankly, you were on fire. Hell, it got you a title defense, right?? So your performance couldn't have been all that bad, right??"
She shrugged. "I guess so. Have you seen Aito?"
"Komosube? Yeah, I, uhh, we had some words, when I was looking for you. Why?"
Her eyes reflected great melancholy, presumably for her family member.
"That title and his pride are driving him fucking crazy...Why do they have to play such headgames with him?! Why can't they just attack him, or try to find someone they think is better to put up against him?? Why do they have to stoop so low?!"
Her eyes were watering, even as I started changing to the far right lane, our exit comming up. "They are attacking him, kid, but they're doing it their own way. I've known guys like this often. They want all the gold, all the glory, but none of the REAL work. They don't want the possibility of losing. Not really much we can do about it, other then pat Komosube's back once and a while, and hope he doesn't let it consume him. I think he's gonna be ok, though."
I pulled up by the hotel, and looked over. she had a single tear going down her cheek, clearly pained over Komosube's dilemna, but she gave a soft smile, before speaking.
"I think so too. Hey, thanks for getting me. Sorry I'm so fucking mopey today, but I want you to know. I really appreciate that you care this much."
I smiled, and brought my hand out, softly wiping away her tears with my thumb before speaking. "Hey. I've been there. Hey, get the fuck inside, I've gotta go gear up...
And she stepped into her room, and I left, to re-don my Face, almost shuddering as my skin latched to me, eager to stay this time.
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SOME TIME LATER:
Komosube wasn't exactly sure what time he woke up, but something was in his nose. Groaning softly, he did not move until what felt like many hours later, placing both feet on the Earth and pushing the World down, away from his face. It seemed hesitant to part ways with the cement, and Komosube heard the sticky sound usually made when your shoe rips from the theater floor. He tried to force air out his mouth, but only small quantities came through, and he brought one hand up, to feel the dried, caked material, ripping some away, the stuff stuck in his nose actually still wet when it was pulled away. The pain was fresh, tender, but Komosube merely winced and ignored it, pulling the blood from his nose, sucking in air that caused the entire bridge to flame with pain, the intensity of it slowly waking him up. He welcomed it, grinned wide as his bruised bones groaned at him now, bringing him back into the world. He felt disgusting, body caked with sweat and filth, and he forced himself to his feet, staggering softly to the bath.
Later, as the water steamed and turned his skin pink, and he was scrubbed clean by his own hand, he groaned, sinking into the water, folded towel over his eyes. He was playing their game, and his behavior, that which he remembered, caused him shame. Chinatsu hadn't deserved his outburst, and her teacher hadn't deserved his violence hours later. He let a simple loss enrage him, had let his anxieties over his Title Win come to surface. Disgusting, and beneath the Chen family. His father wouldn't throw such a tantrum, and if he had, his wife Chou would have set him straight. Komosube groaned and pressed the mouse on his cheek, reaching beyond the tub for the antiseptic. He remembered the most vicious beating from Aragato, and he was thankful for the wake-up call. His friend saw him struggling, had seen him growing petty and small, and had taken drastic measures to stop the Transformation. Komosube had been immersed into a baptism of pain, and had woken up a changed man. And now, he had a tag match with Brandon Brown, a rival and competitor...He highly respected the small roundeye, simpleton though he was, related though he was to that fucking waste of space Big B, and was aware that one crucial way he could fuck over the 'Revolution's' plan was to befriend the rival...Yes, that was the way, to meet the man not with rage and power, but with skill and strength, win or lose...However, that was not for right now...Right now, he needed to talk to Travis Roberts.
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(Chinatsu is standing backstage, in her ring gear, and beside her is none other then Daniel Hanson, wearing a pair of raybands, stylish looking clothes, and holding a microphone, the tips of his hair frosted to look 'cool' and 'stylish.')
Hanson: Yo yo, what up ladies and bitches?!!! Here we are, backstage! Now, I'm well aware that I am not a journalist, but an announcer, but folks, I have decided to take an exception to the lovely, sensational...Chinatsu Chen. How ya feelin', babe?
(brings the mic over to Chinatsu, who laughs and nods.)
Chen: Babe, huh? I guess I should be flattered. *laughs* Ahh, I'm feeling good, been training nonstop for next Sentinel, actually, so there's not a lot to say about my life at the moment.
Hanson: Yeah, I understand, you can't have any distractions going in for the title, can you?
Chen: Hell no! You have to go in with no other thought then what your opponents are up to, and how your going to stop their gameplan and walk away.
Hanson: F(bleep!)ing A!
(Both laugh heartily, Hanson chewing his gum obnoxiously as he does so, but Chen doesn't seem to notice.)
Hanson: Ahh, man, I do love how you appreciate the finer points of humor...But, I gotta ask, it's been on everyone's mind, mine for sure...your loss against Gabrielle. You hold a grudge? You hoping to maybe get a little revenge in this time around?
(Chen bites her bottom lip, thinking about her answer, while in the background we see Crimson Ghost leaning against a snack table, perusing the baby carrots and banana nut muffins, enjoying himself. We see Brandon Brown walk up to him, and the two begin exchanging dialogue.)
Chen: That's a good question, Hanson-
Hanson: Please, call me Daniel. *flashes smile*
(Chen grins and nods.)
Chen: Ok, I can do that...But, going to your question, I was a little bummed when I lost, yeah. I mean, it's my debut, right?! But, as to seeking 'Vengeance,' or getting angry at Gabrielle because I let my guard down and got pinned, isn't going to do anything except give me ulcers later in life. No, what I can do, is I can learn from my mistake, make sure I don't underestimate my opponent again, and make sure I put both my opponents down and take away that Man Championship.
Hanson: C'mon, you can't seriously sit there and think of McSkinny as anything but cannon fodder.
(Chen looks at him dryly, while backstage Brandon seems to be getting into some altercation with Crimson, possibly over the last Yoohoo. Crimson pushes McSkinny away, and turns his back, only to get slammed in the back of the head with that Title. Crimson jerks forward, and rubbing his head, turns around, flicking McSkinny in the ear angrily, causing the young man to recoil, holding the ear in pain, dropping the title. Crimson Ghost picks up the title.)
Chen: Excuse me? I know he's been some running 'joke' or something here, but ignoring the fact that he's crafty enough to pin the likes of Misery, a true athlete and threat to any would-be competitor, we're in a triple threat, and ignoring one person in favor of another has proven time and time again to cost people that crucial win. I don't intend on making any more dumb mistakes, Daniel.
Hanson: Wow, for a rookie you have a keen sense of strategy. I'm impressed.
Chen: Well, wrestling's in my blood...I can't help but over analyze and fret. I'm totally gonna age 20 years before I hit 30.
Hanson: No! No, no, I'm sure you'll always be very...easy on the eye.
(Chen smirks and raises her brow, even as behind them Crimson Ghost is keeping the title out of arm's reach, other hand over Brandon's face, keeping him from grabbing the title, clearly having some words with the youth. Neither Hanson or Chen notice.)
Chen: Oh, nonstop with the flattery? It's kind of cute how relentless you are, in a...pervy kind of way.
Hanson:...Eh, I'll take that as a compliment...Gotta pick your battles, I say.
Chen: *laughter* Oh! That reminds me, I went and got you a gift!
(Chen reaches off camera, into a large black plastic bag, and Hanson begins laughing really hard as she pulls out a gym bag, offering it to Hanson, who is now on the floor, face red. Crimson Ghost left the scene moments ago, and now Brandon is on the floor, grabbing the title and with some effort hoists it back around his shoulder, wincing. Chen approaches the young buck, and McSkinny looks REAL apprehensive and fearful, until Chen bows to him, and shakes his hand, amazed as he is given nice words by the Chen family member.)
END.
OOC: Ok, the 'rats' in Declan's office air vents, is Brandon McSkinny. The thing on the Freeway really happened to my Dad, and I really fucked up in having 18 year old Chinatsu Chen sitting at a bar, looking at a beer. Oh well. And we can see Komosube and Brandon Brown's friendship in Brown's promo that he wrote the same week. It was funny as shit.