Post by Alex Kiseragi on Sept 18, 2009 17:51:22 GMT -5
Seven Months Ago
Another class had gone and with it, another working day in the life of Yasutoki Kiseragi was over. He paced around his dojo, clearing away the final couple of mats having allowed those who had stayed to help to leave him to it. It was dark by now and many of them had some way to go.
There was no sound bar the scraping of crash mats across wooden floor and the occasional passing car on the road outside. It may have been more ominous if it weren’t so usual. He often worked late and he always closed up alone.
*tonk*
Yasutoki spun, legs parting and fists balling instinctively into a defensive posture. He relaxed again as the sight of a wooden staff laying away from it’s stand on the wooden floor. He almost laughed at his own jumpiness, surprised that he had been startled by so little. He walked across the floor and placed the blunt weapon back amongst it’s peers with the greatest of care.
A shadow shifted across the floor, caught only in the corner of his eye. His head darted to the left, falling upon the doorway. He may have caught the final flicker of darkness as it passed out of sight. He wasn’t sure. Either way, fists balled again he followed it, his feet not making a sound as they padded across the floor.
*click*
The door closed causing a cold draft of the outside air to flow through, chilling him through the thin material of his gi. Goosebumps flooded across the exposed areas of his skin before evening out again as the cool breeze passed. He made to bolt for the door. The chase whoever it was who had been lurking in his sanctuary. But he stopped. Taped to the outside of the door frame, right next to the handle, was a chopstick.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There are a lot of perks to being famous. Women, influence, money, but in this case the one that was firmly in Alex’s mind was free stuff. He always thought it was ironic that the same thing that gave him the money to afford things also meant he rarely had to pay for them. It was rarely anything particularly special, generally it was a meal here, a round of drinks there. Tonight it was tickets. One thing Los Angeles has going for it too is it’s relative vicinity to Las Vegas.
So with a week out of GIW action and a very generous offer from the owners of a small Mixed Martial Arts promotion, Alex found himself in Las Vegas sitting in the front row of a small arena watching caged men beat the snot out of each other. Life was good.
In comparison to what he had become used to recently the arena was nothing special, but he remembered competing in far worse. The lights were largely down on the crowd that surrounded the round cage in the centre of the room. His view was perfect, getting right between support posts, the only thing that ever seemed to obstruct him was the occasional shapely rear end of a scantly clad ring girl.
The night had been quiet at first, the modest crowd taking a couple of fights to warm up. With such an event it was clear those that had made the effort to attend were hardcore fans and with a couple of knock outs under their belts they were in full swing. Even Alex had stood up a couple of times to cheer on a fighter or show his appreciation for a particularly skilled transition before remembering those behind him and sitting back down. Not that anyone had complained. He had barely even sat down before writing autographs for several people in the nearby seats.
Right now a pair of light heavyweights were doing battle. One, a local hero of sorts as far he could gather was a wrestler who had gone to great lengths to bring his opponent down to the mat and try to pound him out from there. His opponent was Japanese and had been introduced as a Judo fighter, mixed with some solid looking boxing. He hadn’t intended to take sides but it hardly came as a surprise to him when he caught himself rooting for the Judoka. That’s why right now he was feeling pretty pensive. His guy had just been driven into the cage, lifted off his feet and slammed hard into the mat. The wrestler had his side and was raining hammer fists. The referee stalked the action, looking for any reason to call the fight right there. The Judoka wasn’t out of it though. As blood started to spray from his nose he twisted his hips, allowing himself to pull his legs up in front of him. Another hammer fist rose and fell. Before it connected though the Wrestler’s wrist was trapped. The Judoka’s legs latched across his chest. One pop of the hip upward later it was over. Alex was once again out of his seat and pointed to the victor as he straddled the padded top of the cage and pointed out to the crowd.
The cage had filled up, trainers and corner men from both sides having flooded it in celebration or to the tend to their injured fighter. The Wrestler clutched his elbow but had the good grace to shake his opponents hand. Alex respected that. The victory was announced and the winners hand held high, as if anyone needed more proof that he had won.
Between the previous fights a cameraman had approached him and Alex found his face and name being shown on the big screens mounted high on the walls at both sides of the room. The reaction had been good, for the most part and with a practised smile and a polite wave he made it through the unexpected focus unharmed. He had thought that would be the end of it, which is why what happened next caught him so off guard. A young man in a smart shirt and slacks had just finished interviewing the Judoka, with the assistance of one of his trainers and seemingly part-time translator. Then, he said this.
“Ok, what a fight that was. I’ve got a treat for you now though, you all saw him earlier. GIW Superstar Alex Kiseragi is in the crowd tonight. How about you come up here and say a few words for these people?”
The man picked him out of the crowd with unerring accuracy, not that it was difficult being on the front row and all. Once more the camera was on him and a hyped up crowd seemed eager for him to respond. Granted, in their current state someone could have suggested they all punch themselves in the balls and they would have been eager to get on with that too but that wasn’t the point. The point was that having been called up he now had very little he could do about it. Only one option came to mind. Go up. Unexpected or not, he was a Professional Wrestling, he was trained for this. To another cheer he got out of his seat and made for the cage door.
As soon as he was inside the interviewer beckoned him to the centre, positioning himself and his unsuspecting interviewee in such a way to be seen by as much of the crowd as possible.
“Alex thanks for coming. How’re you enjoying the show?”
“I’m having a great time. I’m honoured to have been invited. We’ve seen some great fights, some great fighters and a amazing crowd.” He raised his arm to gesture to the whole crowd who cheered the compliment. It was a cheap pop but hey, one from time to time didn’t hurt.
“Now I’m sure you get this all the time but as a pro-wrestler with your background, have you ever considered making the jump to Mixed Martial Arts?”
“That’s a good question. Right now I’m tied into GIW, I’m one half of the tag team champions and plan to be for quite some time. Then again, I don’t like to say never.”
The interviewer seemed to smirk, as if rising to some perceived challenge. “There anything that could make that a definite? What do you all think?” he asked, turning to the crowd. “Would you like to see Alex Kiseragi in this cage?”
Another raucous cheer. It was becoming quite predictable now and the thought crossed Alex’s mind as to what someone would have to say to actually illicit a different kind of response but he quickly banished it and indulged in the enthusiasm.
“Well…” he began. “Over at GIW this week I’m going up against someone a few of you may know called Jet Somers.”
Another apparently programmed response and the Dragon continued.
“I thought so. Well we’ll see how that goes for me this Sunday and hey, you never know.”
“You got any words for him right here?” the interviewer asked, pouncing on any chance to draw out more heat to feed the crowds.
“I’ve got a lot of respect for Jet Somers. I don’t know much but he seems like a straight up competitor and he hasn’t done anything to prove he doesn’t deserve my respect which is a step above most of the roster. All I’m going to say is this Sunday is a wrestling match, not a Mixed Martial Arts fight and if you’re going to take on Global Impact Wrestling’s…” he hit the last word hard for emphasis. “Tag Team Champions at their own game then you better come prepared.
“Fighting words Alex. Good luck on Sunday. I’m sure we’ll all by watching. Enjoy the rest of the show.”
With that, the Dragon shook the interviewers hand before leaving to return to his seat. Who ever said Alex Kiseragi couldn’t pull off a good in ring promo?
“Hmm.” he thought. “Nah they’re probably still right.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Seven Months Ago
Two days had past. The Sun had fallen again and his classes had long since dispersed. Yasutoki walked alone through the back alleys of San Francisco, his path being lit by the half light of a crescent moon and the distant ambient glow of the main streets. The sound of the passing cars and last trams of the day seem unusually distant as he turned another corner and stepped deeper into the gloom. He sunk his hand into his pocket and located the chopstick. He removed it and raised it in front of his eyes but in this light he could barely make out it’s outline, let alone the figures painted down it’s length. He remembered it though, the jist at least. He had been summoned here and the reason why forced a sinking feeling to his gut.
“You came.” a deep rough voice stated in Japanese from the shadows at the end of the alley.
“What did you expect?” he replied in kind.
If he had been able to see he would have seen the man across from him shrug his sizable shoulders. “You always were gutless.”
“There’s no shame in doing what’s right.”
“What about running away?”
Both of them paused, the tension hanging in the air between them intensifying with each passing moment.
“It’s been a long time.” Yasutoki finally said. “What kept you?”
“We thought we’d let you settle in first.” he smirked.
“So why now?”
“He wants what’s his and if you’ll deny him it, he’ll take it.”
“You can’t possibly mean-”
“Of course I do.”
“He is not a belonging! He has chosen his life! Leave him to it!”
“You know that’s not how it works or you wouldn’t have fled here.”
Yasutoki’s fists clenched and a metallic clatter ran out as one slammed down atop a flimsy metal trash can. Then, he laughed.
“Fine, try it. I raised that boy and he will never go with you.”
“Don’t be so sure. My Brother can be a persuasive man.”
Yasutoki snorted. “I’m not afraid of you, either of you and neither is he.” he removed the chopstick from his pocket again and briefly twirled it between his fingers. “Go home before you shame yourself.” He threw the stick to the ground, the impact barely even audible and with that, he walked away.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*Thwap*
“Know what’s confusing me?”
“You have trouble remembering who your tag partner is too?”
Alex lowered the kick pad from his side and frowned creating a look that could almost define bemusement. “What? No.”
“Oh, ok.” Brandon Brown replied looking less sheepish then he probably should have under the circumstances.
The two of them stood in a room at the end of a gym favoured by many of the GIW roster. Mirror’s lined the far wall and the floor was blue and sprung. An assortment of kick pads and boxing gloves rested against the walls all around the room. Alex raised the pad up beside his head again and motioned with his free hand for his partner to continue. A second later and another stiff kick almost rocked him off his feet despite the thick protective layer.
“This von Knorre business.”
“What about it?”
“Well, Von would suggest he’s a Count. Or some kind of noble anyway. Sounds European too.”
“So?”
“Does he seem at all European or Noble to you?”
“No.”
“As long as it’s not just me. Ah well, it’s not important. The guys only just lost a cast a week ago and he was hardly threatening at the best of times.”
*Thwap*
“So why am I kicking a pad?”
“Sorry, am I keeping you from your couch in the middle of the street?”
“Well-”
“Don’t answer that, I don’t want to know. We’re kicking pads because between the two of us we’ve got the indisputably most dangerous legs on the roster and it’s in our interests to keep it that way. This week we’re facing someone who may actually almost be able to match us and I don’t want to be caught out.”
“Who?”
“Um, Jet Somers.”
“Who?”
“Never mind I’m sure you’ll figure it out when we get there.”
*Thwap*
This time Alex was pitched off his feet, falling into a head on his side, astonishment across his face.
“Oooooooook.” he panted, trying to regain some of the air that had been forced from his lungs. “I think we’re set.”
Another class had gone and with it, another working day in the life of Yasutoki Kiseragi was over. He paced around his dojo, clearing away the final couple of mats having allowed those who had stayed to help to leave him to it. It was dark by now and many of them had some way to go.
There was no sound bar the scraping of crash mats across wooden floor and the occasional passing car on the road outside. It may have been more ominous if it weren’t so usual. He often worked late and he always closed up alone.
*tonk*
Yasutoki spun, legs parting and fists balling instinctively into a defensive posture. He relaxed again as the sight of a wooden staff laying away from it’s stand on the wooden floor. He almost laughed at his own jumpiness, surprised that he had been startled by so little. He walked across the floor and placed the blunt weapon back amongst it’s peers with the greatest of care.
A shadow shifted across the floor, caught only in the corner of his eye. His head darted to the left, falling upon the doorway. He may have caught the final flicker of darkness as it passed out of sight. He wasn’t sure. Either way, fists balled again he followed it, his feet not making a sound as they padded across the floor.
*click*
The door closed causing a cold draft of the outside air to flow through, chilling him through the thin material of his gi. Goosebumps flooded across the exposed areas of his skin before evening out again as the cool breeze passed. He made to bolt for the door. The chase whoever it was who had been lurking in his sanctuary. But he stopped. Taped to the outside of the door frame, right next to the handle, was a chopstick.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There are a lot of perks to being famous. Women, influence, money, but in this case the one that was firmly in Alex’s mind was free stuff. He always thought it was ironic that the same thing that gave him the money to afford things also meant he rarely had to pay for them. It was rarely anything particularly special, generally it was a meal here, a round of drinks there. Tonight it was tickets. One thing Los Angeles has going for it too is it’s relative vicinity to Las Vegas.
So with a week out of GIW action and a very generous offer from the owners of a small Mixed Martial Arts promotion, Alex found himself in Las Vegas sitting in the front row of a small arena watching caged men beat the snot out of each other. Life was good.
In comparison to what he had become used to recently the arena was nothing special, but he remembered competing in far worse. The lights were largely down on the crowd that surrounded the round cage in the centre of the room. His view was perfect, getting right between support posts, the only thing that ever seemed to obstruct him was the occasional shapely rear end of a scantly clad ring girl.
The night had been quiet at first, the modest crowd taking a couple of fights to warm up. With such an event it was clear those that had made the effort to attend were hardcore fans and with a couple of knock outs under their belts they were in full swing. Even Alex had stood up a couple of times to cheer on a fighter or show his appreciation for a particularly skilled transition before remembering those behind him and sitting back down. Not that anyone had complained. He had barely even sat down before writing autographs for several people in the nearby seats.
Right now a pair of light heavyweights were doing battle. One, a local hero of sorts as far he could gather was a wrestler who had gone to great lengths to bring his opponent down to the mat and try to pound him out from there. His opponent was Japanese and had been introduced as a Judo fighter, mixed with some solid looking boxing. He hadn’t intended to take sides but it hardly came as a surprise to him when he caught himself rooting for the Judoka. That’s why right now he was feeling pretty pensive. His guy had just been driven into the cage, lifted off his feet and slammed hard into the mat. The wrestler had his side and was raining hammer fists. The referee stalked the action, looking for any reason to call the fight right there. The Judoka wasn’t out of it though. As blood started to spray from his nose he twisted his hips, allowing himself to pull his legs up in front of him. Another hammer fist rose and fell. Before it connected though the Wrestler’s wrist was trapped. The Judoka’s legs latched across his chest. One pop of the hip upward later it was over. Alex was once again out of his seat and pointed to the victor as he straddled the padded top of the cage and pointed out to the crowd.
The cage had filled up, trainers and corner men from both sides having flooded it in celebration or to the tend to their injured fighter. The Wrestler clutched his elbow but had the good grace to shake his opponents hand. Alex respected that. The victory was announced and the winners hand held high, as if anyone needed more proof that he had won.
Between the previous fights a cameraman had approached him and Alex found his face and name being shown on the big screens mounted high on the walls at both sides of the room. The reaction had been good, for the most part and with a practised smile and a polite wave he made it through the unexpected focus unharmed. He had thought that would be the end of it, which is why what happened next caught him so off guard. A young man in a smart shirt and slacks had just finished interviewing the Judoka, with the assistance of one of his trainers and seemingly part-time translator. Then, he said this.
“Ok, what a fight that was. I’ve got a treat for you now though, you all saw him earlier. GIW Superstar Alex Kiseragi is in the crowd tonight. How about you come up here and say a few words for these people?”
The man picked him out of the crowd with unerring accuracy, not that it was difficult being on the front row and all. Once more the camera was on him and a hyped up crowd seemed eager for him to respond. Granted, in their current state someone could have suggested they all punch themselves in the balls and they would have been eager to get on with that too but that wasn’t the point. The point was that having been called up he now had very little he could do about it. Only one option came to mind. Go up. Unexpected or not, he was a Professional Wrestling, he was trained for this. To another cheer he got out of his seat and made for the cage door.
As soon as he was inside the interviewer beckoned him to the centre, positioning himself and his unsuspecting interviewee in such a way to be seen by as much of the crowd as possible.
“Alex thanks for coming. How’re you enjoying the show?”
“I’m having a great time. I’m honoured to have been invited. We’ve seen some great fights, some great fighters and a amazing crowd.” He raised his arm to gesture to the whole crowd who cheered the compliment. It was a cheap pop but hey, one from time to time didn’t hurt.
“Now I’m sure you get this all the time but as a pro-wrestler with your background, have you ever considered making the jump to Mixed Martial Arts?”
“That’s a good question. Right now I’m tied into GIW, I’m one half of the tag team champions and plan to be for quite some time. Then again, I don’t like to say never.”
The interviewer seemed to smirk, as if rising to some perceived challenge. “There anything that could make that a definite? What do you all think?” he asked, turning to the crowd. “Would you like to see Alex Kiseragi in this cage?”
Another raucous cheer. It was becoming quite predictable now and the thought crossed Alex’s mind as to what someone would have to say to actually illicit a different kind of response but he quickly banished it and indulged in the enthusiasm.
“Well…” he began. “Over at GIW this week I’m going up against someone a few of you may know called Jet Somers.”
Another apparently programmed response and the Dragon continued.
“I thought so. Well we’ll see how that goes for me this Sunday and hey, you never know.”
“You got any words for him right here?” the interviewer asked, pouncing on any chance to draw out more heat to feed the crowds.
“I’ve got a lot of respect for Jet Somers. I don’t know much but he seems like a straight up competitor and he hasn’t done anything to prove he doesn’t deserve my respect which is a step above most of the roster. All I’m going to say is this Sunday is a wrestling match, not a Mixed Martial Arts fight and if you’re going to take on Global Impact Wrestling’s…” he hit the last word hard for emphasis. “Tag Team Champions at their own game then you better come prepared.
“Fighting words Alex. Good luck on Sunday. I’m sure we’ll all by watching. Enjoy the rest of the show.”
With that, the Dragon shook the interviewers hand before leaving to return to his seat. Who ever said Alex Kiseragi couldn’t pull off a good in ring promo?
“Hmm.” he thought. “Nah they’re probably still right.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Seven Months Ago
Two days had past. The Sun had fallen again and his classes had long since dispersed. Yasutoki walked alone through the back alleys of San Francisco, his path being lit by the half light of a crescent moon and the distant ambient glow of the main streets. The sound of the passing cars and last trams of the day seem unusually distant as he turned another corner and stepped deeper into the gloom. He sunk his hand into his pocket and located the chopstick. He removed it and raised it in front of his eyes but in this light he could barely make out it’s outline, let alone the figures painted down it’s length. He remembered it though, the jist at least. He had been summoned here and the reason why forced a sinking feeling to his gut.
“You came.” a deep rough voice stated in Japanese from the shadows at the end of the alley.
“What did you expect?” he replied in kind.
If he had been able to see he would have seen the man across from him shrug his sizable shoulders. “You always were gutless.”
“There’s no shame in doing what’s right.”
“What about running away?”
Both of them paused, the tension hanging in the air between them intensifying with each passing moment.
“It’s been a long time.” Yasutoki finally said. “What kept you?”
“We thought we’d let you settle in first.” he smirked.
“So why now?”
“He wants what’s his and if you’ll deny him it, he’ll take it.”
“You can’t possibly mean-”
“Of course I do.”
“He is not a belonging! He has chosen his life! Leave him to it!”
“You know that’s not how it works or you wouldn’t have fled here.”
Yasutoki’s fists clenched and a metallic clatter ran out as one slammed down atop a flimsy metal trash can. Then, he laughed.
“Fine, try it. I raised that boy and he will never go with you.”
“Don’t be so sure. My Brother can be a persuasive man.”
Yasutoki snorted. “I’m not afraid of you, either of you and neither is he.” he removed the chopstick from his pocket again and briefly twirled it between his fingers. “Go home before you shame yourself.” He threw the stick to the ground, the impact barely even audible and with that, he walked away.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*Thwap*
“Know what’s confusing me?”
“You have trouble remembering who your tag partner is too?”
Alex lowered the kick pad from his side and frowned creating a look that could almost define bemusement. “What? No.”
“Oh, ok.” Brandon Brown replied looking less sheepish then he probably should have under the circumstances.
The two of them stood in a room at the end of a gym favoured by many of the GIW roster. Mirror’s lined the far wall and the floor was blue and sprung. An assortment of kick pads and boxing gloves rested against the walls all around the room. Alex raised the pad up beside his head again and motioned with his free hand for his partner to continue. A second later and another stiff kick almost rocked him off his feet despite the thick protective layer.
“This von Knorre business.”
“What about it?”
“Well, Von would suggest he’s a Count. Or some kind of noble anyway. Sounds European too.”
“So?”
“Does he seem at all European or Noble to you?”
“No.”
“As long as it’s not just me. Ah well, it’s not important. The guys only just lost a cast a week ago and he was hardly threatening at the best of times.”
*Thwap*
“So why am I kicking a pad?”
“Sorry, am I keeping you from your couch in the middle of the street?”
“Well-”
“Don’t answer that, I don’t want to know. We’re kicking pads because between the two of us we’ve got the indisputably most dangerous legs on the roster and it’s in our interests to keep it that way. This week we’re facing someone who may actually almost be able to match us and I don’t want to be caught out.”
“Who?”
“Um, Jet Somers.”
“Who?”
“Never mind I’m sure you’ll figure it out when we get there.”
*Thwap*
This time Alex was pitched off his feet, falling into a head on his side, astonishment across his face.
“Oooooooook.” he panted, trying to regain some of the air that had been forced from his lungs. “I think we’re set.”
x2
