Post by Alex Kiseragi on Sept 15, 2009 15:55:46 GMT -5
‘Honor’ Duel
Yasotuki Kiseragi vs. Randy Boolzian
Referee: Travis Roberts
Winner: Non-Contest
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Last Week
We’re in Boss P’s office, GIW’s Enforcer sat behind his desk smoking a cigar and apparently calibrating the sight on some kind of high calibre rifle. There’s a knock at the door.
“COME IN NIGGA!” Boss P manages to yell without dropping his cigar and without looking up from his weapon. The door opens slowly and Yasutoki Kiseragi steps inside, closing the door behind him and walking up to the front of the desk. He makes to speak before being interrupted. “WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU NIGGA?”
Yasutoki recoils in surprise momentarily, “Yasutoki Kiseragi.” he replies, his voice calm and soft, starkly contrasting the brashness of the Penguin.
“KISERAGI EH? LIKE THAT DRAGON CHAMP MUTHAFUCKA!?” Boss P asks, finally lowing the weapon to rest on the desk.
“His Father.”
“AH WELL, TAKE A SEAT NIGGA!”
At the invitation Yasutoki does so, sitting down in one of the pair of leather bound seats in front of the desk.
“WHAT’RE YOU HERE FOR THEN?”
“I’d like to request a match for next week.”
“A MATCH? YOU AIN’T NO WRESTLER MUTHAFUCKA! WHAT NIGGA DO YOU WANNA FIGHT ANYWAY?”
“Randy Boolzian.”
“THAT HARDCORE CHAMP NIGGA? WHAT’S YOUR DEAL WITH HIM?”
“He insulted my honour.”
“THAT SHIT IF FUCKED UP NIGGA! ANYONE BUSTIN’ ON BOSS P’S HONOUR, I’D CAP THAT PUNK ASS. AIGHT, YOU WANNA BEAT ON THAT PUNK, YOU GOT IT NIGGA.”
“Thank you.”
Yasutoki slowly gets up from the seat as Boss P sweeps up his weapon again returns to his fine tuning. The elder bows his head respectfully and walks out of the office, a familiar yet long absent fire once more rekindled in his heart.
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Mid Week
The cameras pan around the old dojo we saw Alex in in his early introductory promos. All the lights are out and it’s hard to see more than the what’s under the circle of soft light in the centre of shot. Yasutoki Kiseragi is knelt on a thin mat on the hard oak floorboards. He’s stripped to the waist, wearing just a pair of white Gi pants and a black belt, revealing a surprising powerful looking physique for a man of his age. His head is bowed as he starts to speak.
“Randy Boolzian, for a long time now I had come to respect you. I watched you battle my Son upon the Battleground. Though you were his enemy, I respected your integrity as you fought with honour and won with dignity.”
Yasutoki slowly raises his head revealing a look somehow managing to be both more stern and more passive than any we have seen him with before.
“Even after that, I saw you proudly combat a corrupt regime and continue to win the hearts of the people. But then you showed your true colours. The noble young warrior I thought I had come to know showed himself as no more than a insolent child. That first you would deny my Son the feats he has rightly earned, that though you may not like him, you would not even show the respect to accept his skills as equal to your own. Not only that, but that you would attack me personally, my honour, my Son’s honour and honour of our whole family, is the greatest insult of all and one that can not be allowed to stand.”
Without looking down he reaches around his right leg and produces a ceremonial tanto blade which he holds up for the camera to see.
“By all rights you should extinguish the shame you bring yourself and your kin, but I know you have not even the honour for that. That is why I face you, to retain the honour you would take from me.”
He places the blade back on the ground and pushes himself up from his knees straight to his feet, then straightens his body up to full height.
“I warn you child, do not mistake me for some doddery old fool having long since outlived his place on this Earth.”
Yasutoki starts to walk forward slowly, the soft spotlight following him as he does. After a few steps he stops, sets his legs in a narrow horse stance and looks forward with a burning intensity. From out of shot, two completely black clad figures, one on each side, barely visible in the din, strike him across the chest with two by fours which snap and splinter on impact. As they retreat he takes several more steps forward, arriving at a pair of breeze blocks, stacked atop one another with a thin white cloth laid over their middle. Yasutoki takes a couple of deep breaths and lets out a blood curdling cry as he slams his right palm through both blocks. He holds the final pose, his arm stretched downward, showing off a tricep muscle many men half his age would be proud off. He looks down for a moment then turns his head up over his shoulder.
“For you see, in every Kiseragi beats the heart of a Dragon. In every Kiseragi burns a fire that can never be extinguished. In the soul of every Kiseragi is honour, strength and a force of will you shall never be able to comprehend.”
He straightens up again. “Prepare long and prepare well child, Dragon’s fire awaits you.”
With that, the scene fades to black.
Yasotuki Kiseragi vs. Randy Boolzian
Referee: Travis Roberts
Winner: Non-Contest
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Last Week
We’re in Boss P’s office, GIW’s Enforcer sat behind his desk smoking a cigar and apparently calibrating the sight on some kind of high calibre rifle. There’s a knock at the door.
“COME IN NIGGA!” Boss P manages to yell without dropping his cigar and without looking up from his weapon. The door opens slowly and Yasutoki Kiseragi steps inside, closing the door behind him and walking up to the front of the desk. He makes to speak before being interrupted. “WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU NIGGA?”
Yasutoki recoils in surprise momentarily, “Yasutoki Kiseragi.” he replies, his voice calm and soft, starkly contrasting the brashness of the Penguin.
“KISERAGI EH? LIKE THAT DRAGON CHAMP MUTHAFUCKA!?” Boss P asks, finally lowing the weapon to rest on the desk.
“His Father.”
“AH WELL, TAKE A SEAT NIGGA!”
At the invitation Yasutoki does so, sitting down in one of the pair of leather bound seats in front of the desk.
“WHAT’RE YOU HERE FOR THEN?”
“I’d like to request a match for next week.”
“A MATCH? YOU AIN’T NO WRESTLER MUTHAFUCKA! WHAT NIGGA DO YOU WANNA FIGHT ANYWAY?”
“Randy Boolzian.”
“THAT HARDCORE CHAMP NIGGA? WHAT’S YOUR DEAL WITH HIM?”
“He insulted my honour.”
“THAT SHIT IF FUCKED UP NIGGA! ANYONE BUSTIN’ ON BOSS P’S HONOUR, I’D CAP THAT PUNK ASS. AIGHT, YOU WANNA BEAT ON THAT PUNK, YOU GOT IT NIGGA.”
“Thank you.”
Yasutoki slowly gets up from the seat as Boss P sweeps up his weapon again returns to his fine tuning. The elder bows his head respectfully and walks out of the office, a familiar yet long absent fire once more rekindled in his heart.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mid Week
The cameras pan around the old dojo we saw Alex in in his early introductory promos. All the lights are out and it’s hard to see more than the what’s under the circle of soft light in the centre of shot. Yasutoki Kiseragi is knelt on a thin mat on the hard oak floorboards. He’s stripped to the waist, wearing just a pair of white Gi pants and a black belt, revealing a surprising powerful looking physique for a man of his age. His head is bowed as he starts to speak.
“Randy Boolzian, for a long time now I had come to respect you. I watched you battle my Son upon the Battleground. Though you were his enemy, I respected your integrity as you fought with honour and won with dignity.”
Yasutoki slowly raises his head revealing a look somehow managing to be both more stern and more passive than any we have seen him with before.
“Even after that, I saw you proudly combat a corrupt regime and continue to win the hearts of the people. But then you showed your true colours. The noble young warrior I thought I had come to know showed himself as no more than a insolent child. That first you would deny my Son the feats he has rightly earned, that though you may not like him, you would not even show the respect to accept his skills as equal to your own. Not only that, but that you would attack me personally, my honour, my Son’s honour and honour of our whole family, is the greatest insult of all and one that can not be allowed to stand.”
Without looking down he reaches around his right leg and produces a ceremonial tanto blade which he holds up for the camera to see.
“By all rights you should extinguish the shame you bring yourself and your kin, but I know you have not even the honour for that. That is why I face you, to retain the honour you would take from me.”
He places the blade back on the ground and pushes himself up from his knees straight to his feet, then straightens his body up to full height.
“I warn you child, do not mistake me for some doddery old fool having long since outlived his place on this Earth.”
Yasutoki starts to walk forward slowly, the soft spotlight following him as he does. After a few steps he stops, sets his legs in a narrow horse stance and looks forward with a burning intensity. From out of shot, two completely black clad figures, one on each side, barely visible in the din, strike him across the chest with two by fours which snap and splinter on impact. As they retreat he takes several more steps forward, arriving at a pair of breeze blocks, stacked atop one another with a thin white cloth laid over their middle. Yasutoki takes a couple of deep breaths and lets out a blood curdling cry as he slams his right palm through both blocks. He holds the final pose, his arm stretched downward, showing off a tricep muscle many men half his age would be proud off. He looks down for a moment then turns his head up over his shoulder.
“For you see, in every Kiseragi beats the heart of a Dragon. In every Kiseragi burns a fire that can never be extinguished. In the soul of every Kiseragi is honour, strength and a force of will you shall never be able to comprehend.”
He straightens up again. “Prepare long and prepare well child, Dragon’s fire awaits you.”
With that, the scene fades to black.
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