Chain Reaction #2: Scott Douglas vs. Kerry Kuroyama
- Thread starter Stalker
- Start date
BWade
Grandma Took Me Home
No Place Like Home, Part IV (Die Hard)
Scott’s eyes cracked open to a seemingly unfamiliar bedroom. He knew he had never been here before but some of the decorations seemed to be very familiar. His gears began their slow spool to full capacity as he struggled to remember what had gone on before. He rubbed his face and let out something between a grunt and a sigh when it hit him.
“Morning Scotty,“ Courtney whispered as she rolled over and rested her head on his bare chest.
“Morning, Court’” Scott replied with a hint of regret.
What was intended to be one drink clearly had turned in to several and it wasn’t long before Scott fell back into old habits. Courtney had the effect on him.
“Last night was something else, Scotty. I’ve missed this. I missed us.” Courtney confessed to him in a sultry tone. “I forgot how much fun we used to have.”
Scott gave a slight chuckle to be polite and, more or less, attempt to hide his awkward feelings on whatever had transpired last night.
Scott and Courtney had always “had a good time.” From simple as smoking pot at Gasworks Park looking out at the Seattle skyline; to the hassle of sneaking into The Crocodile to drink underage and watch whatever terrible band was chasing that elusive “Seattle Sound” that night; they always “had a good time.”
Problem was; they had a penchant for getting out of hand and causing hell in and around the city.
“Remember when we used to climb up that billboard over behind Daniel’s old house and drink what ever beer they had on special at the corner store?” Courtney reminisced.
With a laugh Scott replied, “Yeah, which ever room temperature beer was on a floor display.”
“Well of course. How else could we steal it. The things …” motioning to her breasts “…could only distract the clerk for so long.”
The two shared a laugh over their youthful misadventures ignoring the trouble and misfortune it had brought them both. They enjoyed the nostalgia momentarily until Scott broke the mood.
“Well, I really should get going though.”
“Don’t go,” Courtney whined snuggling up closer to Scott, “I feel like you just got here. Plus we have a lot of catching up to do; if you catch my drift.”
Scott caught her drift alright, but the clock was taunting him and it had already crept well passed noon while they slept off the numbing effects of last nights libations.
“Court’, I’d love to … really, but I’ve got a promo’ thing today and I got to get in there before they wrap for the day.” Scott explained. “This is pretty much my last go at this life. I’ve got to give it everything, if for nothing else, for my dad.”
Disappointed, but surprisingly understanding, Courtney picked her head up off of Scott’s chest and went in for a long passionate kiss. “Ok, ‘Sup Pop’ Scott” she replied with a slight laugh, “But I get to see you again soon right?”
Scott hesitantly replied, “Yeah of course.”
Scott sat up from his previously prone position and started to gather his clothes and apply each layer as it is found. Courtney rested against the headrest trying to look as tempting as she possibly could. Scott gave her a glance back just to make her feel like her efforts weren’t completely meritless. Scott left his seat of the bed, pulling up his jeans, and headed for the adjoining bathroom.
“I’m going to use you bathroom real quick if that’s alright.” Scott extended merely as a pleasantry.
“Come on, Scotty … of course. You don’t have to ask babe.” Courtney replied slightly offended.
Scott poked his head out of the bathroom momentarily, “Did we get thrown out of The Crocodile last night? It’s all starting to come back to me … kind of.”
Courtney laughed. “I don’t think so, but it’s entirely possible.”
They, in fact, had been thrown out of The Crocodile … and The Tractor Tavern, Shorty’s, and turned away from a Ruby Tuesday’s after trying to exercise their third amendment right. The manager on duty was not amused.
“You know Scotty, sometimes I think we are meant to be together, and others I feel like we were meant to destroy each other.” Courtney shouted over the noise of the running water.
“Sometimes I think they’re the same thing” Scott murmured just before splashing his face with the noisy water.
“Huh?” Courtney called back.
Scott exited the bath room wiping his face with a hand towel and reached for his jacket on the foot of the bed.
“Nothing gorgeous… I’ll talk to you soon.”
Courtney, smitten, ignored whatever the previous comment had been and crawled to the foot of the bed for a kiss. Scott leaned in and obliged.
“I love you, Scott.” She said as she slowly opened and batted her eyes after the goodbye kiss.
Scott, without thinking, replied; “I love you too …“
Scott exited the room shaking his head in disapproval of his own actions.
“What am I getting myself into...? “
Scott’s eyes cracked open to a seemingly unfamiliar bedroom. He knew he had never been here before but some of the decorations seemed to be very familiar. His gears began their slow spool to full capacity as he struggled to remember what had gone on before. He rubbed his face and let out something between a grunt and a sigh when it hit him.
“Morning Scotty,“ Courtney whispered as she rolled over and rested her head on his bare chest.
“Morning, Court’” Scott replied with a hint of regret.
What was intended to be one drink clearly had turned in to several and it wasn’t long before Scott fell back into old habits. Courtney had the effect on him.
“Last night was something else, Scotty. I’ve missed this. I missed us.” Courtney confessed to him in a sultry tone. “I forgot how much fun we used to have.”
Scott gave a slight chuckle to be polite and, more or less, attempt to hide his awkward feelings on whatever had transpired last night.
Scott and Courtney had always “had a good time.” From simple as smoking pot at Gasworks Park looking out at the Seattle skyline; to the hassle of sneaking into The Crocodile to drink underage and watch whatever terrible band was chasing that elusive “Seattle Sound” that night; they always “had a good time.”
Problem was; they had a penchant for getting out of hand and causing hell in and around the city.
“Remember when we used to climb up that billboard over behind Daniel’s old house and drink what ever beer they had on special at the corner store?” Courtney reminisced.
With a laugh Scott replied, “Yeah, which ever room temperature beer was on a floor display.”
“Well of course. How else could we steal it. The things …” motioning to her breasts “…could only distract the clerk for so long.”
The two shared a laugh over their youthful misadventures ignoring the trouble and misfortune it had brought them both. They enjoyed the nostalgia momentarily until Scott broke the mood.
“Well, I really should get going though.”
“Don’t go,” Courtney whined snuggling up closer to Scott, “I feel like you just got here. Plus we have a lot of catching up to do; if you catch my drift.”
Scott caught her drift alright, but the clock was taunting him and it had already crept well passed noon while they slept off the numbing effects of last nights libations.
“Court’, I’d love to … really, but I’ve got a promo’ thing today and I got to get in there before they wrap for the day.” Scott explained. “This is pretty much my last go at this life. I’ve got to give it everything, if for nothing else, for my dad.”
Disappointed, but surprisingly understanding, Courtney picked her head up off of Scott’s chest and went in for a long passionate kiss. “Ok, ‘Sup Pop’ Scott” she replied with a slight laugh, “But I get to see you again soon right?”
Scott hesitantly replied, “Yeah of course.”
Scott sat up from his previously prone position and started to gather his clothes and apply each layer as it is found. Courtney rested against the headrest trying to look as tempting as she possibly could. Scott gave her a glance back just to make her feel like her efforts weren’t completely meritless. Scott left his seat of the bed, pulling up his jeans, and headed for the adjoining bathroom.
“I’m going to use you bathroom real quick if that’s alright.” Scott extended merely as a pleasantry.
“Come on, Scotty … of course. You don’t have to ask babe.” Courtney replied slightly offended.
Scott poked his head out of the bathroom momentarily, “Did we get thrown out of The Crocodile last night? It’s all starting to come back to me … kind of.”
Courtney laughed. “I don’t think so, but it’s entirely possible.”
They, in fact, had been thrown out of The Crocodile … and The Tractor Tavern, Shorty’s, and turned away from a Ruby Tuesday’s after trying to exercise their third amendment right. The manager on duty was not amused.
“You know Scotty, sometimes I think we are meant to be together, and others I feel like we were meant to destroy each other.” Courtney shouted over the noise of the running water.
“Sometimes I think they’re the same thing” Scott murmured just before splashing his face with the noisy water.
“Huh?” Courtney called back.
Scott exited the bath room wiping his face with a hand towel and reached for his jacket on the foot of the bed.
“Nothing gorgeous… I’ll talk to you soon.”
Courtney, smitten, ignored whatever the previous comment had been and crawled to the foot of the bed for a kiss. Scott leaned in and obliged.
“I love you, Scott.” She said as she slowly opened and batted her eyes after the goodbye kiss.
Scott, without thinking, replied; “I love you too …“
Scott exited the room shaking his head in disapproval of his own actions.
“What am I getting myself into...? “
"The Path is set before you."
(A quick fade in from black reveals an old-school promo set-up: a man and a backdrop. KERRY KUROYAMA stands in his ring gear and a black Dojo t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. The backdrop behind him is a stylized “IWF - Chain Reaction” banner, probably one of the same they had hanging outside the Moss Bay Events Center a mere few weeks ago. There’s a look of calm determination and youthful zest in his eyes as he greets the camera with a casual nod of his head.)
Kerry Kuroyama
“The Path is set before you. It stretches to the horizon and beyond.
“As you follow it, the Mission will become clearer.
“There is no end to it, but arriving upon a destination is not the goal of the Mission.
“Constant progress is all that matters.”
These are the words of our proud and honorable Iemoto... “The Undying” Rocko Daymon. They mark the first passages of the Dojo’s creed of loyalty and conviction. It took many years of physical and mental preparation to make myself ready for the ring, but only now, triumphant after my first official professional wrestling match, do I fully realize and understand the meaning of those words.
My Path has begun here in International Wrestling Federation. And my Mission? To be proclaimed the best... by any means necessary.
Good evening, Pacific Northwest. If you don’t know it by now, the name is Kerry Kuroyama... born and raised a son of Seattle, Washington, and here tonight with a few things to say to the increasing number of fans out there taking notice of IWF.
Chain Reaction was the first step in my Path, and David “The Bird” Gilbride was the first of many obstacles I must overcome. Not a great leap forward, mind you... but all the same, the first step is perhaps the most important. A career cannot grow, thrive, and influence before it formally begins. Now that it’s begun, the only thing to do is to move on to bigger and better things.
Like the Emerald City Championship... and my next opponent, fellow Seattle native “Sub Pop” Scott Douglas.
I had a chance to see Douglas in action at the show a few weeks ago, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t impressed. I expect a much greater challenge from him than what Gilbride gave me in the ring, but I’m kinda looking forward to that. No challenge means no growth... and I feel that what I showed the fans back at Chain Reaction Number One was merely scratching the surface of my full potential.
I don’t think that will be the case at the next show, however. Two true-blooded Seattleites are going head to head in that ring, and the winner will earn a chance to compete for the Emerald City Championship. I feel the both of us are going to put forward our very best effort and give the fans a great contest to watch... and regardless of who wins, I’m certain they’ll be satisfied knowing somebody from the hometown is going into that final round to represent them.
If you’re listening out there, Scott, then make no mistake about it... my goal is to put that belt around my waist. If that means I have to drive your head into the canvas until you stay down either by choice or by incapacitation, then so be it. I’m prepared to take it that it that far should the need arise, and you should be as well, if you truly want to represent this city and this federation as its champion and figurehead.
I’m not going to sit here and bullsh*t you about how I think I deserve it more, or how I’m in some way “better suited” to be IWF’s hometown hero. This isn’t about feeding my ego... it’s about going into that ring and seeing who really deserves to move on to that title match. If you truly desire that belt more than I do, and if you have the talent to back up that desire, then you will, in all likelihood, come out victorious, and I’ll be the first to shake your hand and congratulate you.
But there’s more at stake here for me than simply representing my hometown and touching championship gold for the first time in my budding career. I also represent my teachers and fellow students back at the Dojo, who are eager to see one of their own succeed above any and all obstacles. As long as people like Terry “The Idol” Anderson are out there calling our school a sham, I will always be driven to prove that our evolutionary form of wrestling is superior not just in the Pacific Northwest territory, but the entire world.
I feel the only thing truly holding me back at this point is age and inexperience. But with every passing day, I grow older... and with every match, I learn a little bit more. Like the creed states, “Constant progress is all that matters”... so I’ll take things one step at a time.
“Sub Pop” Scott Douglas... you’re the next step in my Path. You’re the man I must overcome to achieve the Emerald City Championship. I’d wish you luck, except I don’t believe in it... so instead, I’ll just pray that you come into that ring with strength, vision, and the will to fight. May the better man win, as the saying goes.
And to all the people out there, I invite you to join us at Chain Reaction Number Two at the Moss Bay Events Center next week. If you were left wanting to see more after the the last show, then I won’t disappoint you this time around. Until then, try to keep your head out of the rain and have a safe, savory week.
Once again, this is Kerry Kuroyama... and the Path is set before me.
(He gives the camera a simple farewell nod before it plainly fades to black.)
(A quick fade in from black reveals an old-school promo set-up: a man and a backdrop. KERRY KUROYAMA stands in his ring gear and a black Dojo t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. The backdrop behind him is a stylized “IWF - Chain Reaction” banner, probably one of the same they had hanging outside the Moss Bay Events Center a mere few weeks ago. There’s a look of calm determination and youthful zest in his eyes as he greets the camera with a casual nod of his head.)
Kerry Kuroyama
“The Path is set before you. It stretches to the horizon and beyond.
“As you follow it, the Mission will become clearer.
“There is no end to it, but arriving upon a destination is not the goal of the Mission.
“Constant progress is all that matters.”
These are the words of our proud and honorable Iemoto... “The Undying” Rocko Daymon. They mark the first passages of the Dojo’s creed of loyalty and conviction. It took many years of physical and mental preparation to make myself ready for the ring, but only now, triumphant after my first official professional wrestling match, do I fully realize and understand the meaning of those words.
My Path has begun here in International Wrestling Federation. And my Mission? To be proclaimed the best... by any means necessary.
Good evening, Pacific Northwest. If you don’t know it by now, the name is Kerry Kuroyama... born and raised a son of Seattle, Washington, and here tonight with a few things to say to the increasing number of fans out there taking notice of IWF.
Chain Reaction was the first step in my Path, and David “The Bird” Gilbride was the first of many obstacles I must overcome. Not a great leap forward, mind you... but all the same, the first step is perhaps the most important. A career cannot grow, thrive, and influence before it formally begins. Now that it’s begun, the only thing to do is to move on to bigger and better things.
Like the Emerald City Championship... and my next opponent, fellow Seattle native “Sub Pop” Scott Douglas.
I had a chance to see Douglas in action at the show a few weeks ago, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t impressed. I expect a much greater challenge from him than what Gilbride gave me in the ring, but I’m kinda looking forward to that. No challenge means no growth... and I feel that what I showed the fans back at Chain Reaction Number One was merely scratching the surface of my full potential.
I don’t think that will be the case at the next show, however. Two true-blooded Seattleites are going head to head in that ring, and the winner will earn a chance to compete for the Emerald City Championship. I feel the both of us are going to put forward our very best effort and give the fans a great contest to watch... and regardless of who wins, I’m certain they’ll be satisfied knowing somebody from the hometown is going into that final round to represent them.
If you’re listening out there, Scott, then make no mistake about it... my goal is to put that belt around my waist. If that means I have to drive your head into the canvas until you stay down either by choice or by incapacitation, then so be it. I’m prepared to take it that it that far should the need arise, and you should be as well, if you truly want to represent this city and this federation as its champion and figurehead.
I’m not going to sit here and bullsh*t you about how I think I deserve it more, or how I’m in some way “better suited” to be IWF’s hometown hero. This isn’t about feeding my ego... it’s about going into that ring and seeing who really deserves to move on to that title match. If you truly desire that belt more than I do, and if you have the talent to back up that desire, then you will, in all likelihood, come out victorious, and I’ll be the first to shake your hand and congratulate you.
But there’s more at stake here for me than simply representing my hometown and touching championship gold for the first time in my budding career. I also represent my teachers and fellow students back at the Dojo, who are eager to see one of their own succeed above any and all obstacles. As long as people like Terry “The Idol” Anderson are out there calling our school a sham, I will always be driven to prove that our evolutionary form of wrestling is superior not just in the Pacific Northwest territory, but the entire world.
I feel the only thing truly holding me back at this point is age and inexperience. But with every passing day, I grow older... and with every match, I learn a little bit more. Like the creed states, “Constant progress is all that matters”... so I’ll take things one step at a time.
“Sub Pop” Scott Douglas... you’re the next step in my Path. You’re the man I must overcome to achieve the Emerald City Championship. I’d wish you luck, except I don’t believe in it... so instead, I’ll just pray that you come into that ring with strength, vision, and the will to fight. May the better man win, as the saying goes.
And to all the people out there, I invite you to join us at Chain Reaction Number Two at the Moss Bay Events Center next week. If you were left wanting to see more after the the last show, then I won’t disappoint you this time around. Until then, try to keep your head out of the rain and have a safe, savory week.
Once again, this is Kerry Kuroyama... and the Path is set before me.
(He gives the camera a simple farewell nod before it plainly fades to black.)
BWade
Grandma Took Me Home
No Place Like Home, Part V (The Final Stand)
“Sorry I’m late guys.” Scott lamented as he approached the camera crew out side of the Moss Bay Event Center.
The camera crew was made up of just an operator and a sound man who was packing up their limited equipment as Scott apologized. “You’re too late, son.”
Scott reaches for his cell phone, “I’m only …” and checks the time, “Well, I’m pretty late I know but this is my first promo for IWF. I’ve got to get this done.”
“Not our problem. You said one. It’s now four and we are off the clock. We’ll send Art the bill. Nice doing business with you.”
Scott couldn't afford to loose this opportunity and walk into Chain Reaction being the one guy who didn’t promote the show. Maybe if he had already made a name for himself in this territory, or had a in with the management but at this point he was just another faceless number in the locker room who needed to make a name for himself. He felt like the rope was getting short and he had just gotten there.
“Alright, look. I got…” Scott starts digging threw his pockets pulling out loose bills, receipts, and an unused prophylactic. “I got twelve, thirteen …” He straightens out the creased bills and stacks them as he counts. “Thirty two! I got thirty two bucks right here … how much time will that get me?”
The camera man looks to his colleague for his input on the matter yet only receives a bewildered shrug. He thinks about it for a moment and shoots Scott an offer he really can’t refuse.
“We’ll give you fifteen minutes.”
He looks toward his soundman again and this time receives a nod and hand movement one could only perceive as a ‘why not.’
The camera man adds; “Hope you’re the one take type, kid.”
“You and me both.” Scott scoffs.
The camera man turns to remove his camera from its hard travel case, “What’s that?”
“Nothing. I’m ready when you are.” Scott responds quickly in attempt to cover his temporary lack of confidence.
In Texas, Scott hadn’t cut many spots in ring or in studio. For one, there was no studio and the majority of his dates weren’t even televised. Secondly, North West Texas over the past ten or fifteen years had been quite resultant in the face of change and for the most part still continued doing things the way they had been done forever. There wasn’t much room for a young upstart with pop culture references and a penchant for vulgarity. At least that’s the reasoning Scott was given without ever having the chance to really get the feel for the skill set. Mexico was a different story with the same result. Scott’s grasp on the Spanish language was a bit sparse when he arrived in Old Mexico, and honestly it wasn’t a whole lot better by the time he took the dusty trail back to the States. So any camera or in-ring mic time he was granted ended in him standing next to masked man rubbing his hands together and shaking his head in agreement. Even when the Lucha asked the crowd if he and young Scott would loose their upcoming bout.
“You want to do it right here?” the camera man asked.
Scott took a look at the scenery behind him and told the camera man, “It’ll do. Just roll. I assume I’m on the clock.”
“You bet your ass, 5 … 4 … 3 … “
[SUB](Fade In: Scott Douglas standing along the waters edge along side of the Moss Bay Event Center as a sea plane glides down and skates across the still water spraying a fine mist all around its pontoons.
Scott’s unkempt black hair whips in the nearly hostile winds and his facial expression is that of either disdain or determination. His flannel shirt rests slightly askew just under a slightly smaller leather jacket that has seen its better days. His jeans feature several rips and frays from the thigh down to ankle; where his battered boots, that appear to have at on time been completely black, now show they’re signs of wear and abuse in dull off white patches and scuffs.
He reaches up from the waist and waves his hair back over his head and begins to speak.)
“Look, I’ve been up, and I’ve been down … Literally. From my beloved home of the Emerald City down to the **** kickin’ cowboy capitol of the world and further! Seattle’s prodigal son returns to finally make the mark he was intended to.”
(The camera moves in slightly)
“This is a new beginning. A new era. This is the resurgence of grunge. No instruments, no record labels, no magazines. Grunge at it’s most pure. Smash mouth, no frills, dirty, angst laden wide open energy!”
(The camera swings left keeping the shot fixed on Scott but changing the background slightly with his direction.
A few more sails appear along with a dock mooring several boats.)
“Chain Reaction, Kerry Kuroyama, Scott Douglas … The Battle of Seattle, if you will. I know the DOJO, and who doesn’t know ‘The Paragon of Professional Wrestling Excellence’ but we won’t be there and I dare to assume neither will he.”
(Scott steps toward the camera. Taking the cue, the camera man zooms in to a medium shot and holds as Scott continues his adlibbed monologue.)
“I don’t feel like either of us was served up much of a challenge on the first time around. And being that the rest of the field consists of a megalomaniac, a green chick, and the guy I destroyed last week… I think it could be said, regardless of what the brackets show; the title is decided between the two of us live on Chain Reaction! End of story.”
(Scott reaches for his jacket pocket. The camera backs out to a wide shot. From his pocket, Scott produces a pack of cigarettes, removes one, places it between his lips, and lights it. He takes a drag and lets it out slow for dramatic effect.)
“Chain Reaction; Either way Seattle wins … Kuroyama, all the training in the world won’t save you from a man down to his last dollar with his back pressed against the wall. This is my last chance, no exit strategy… This is The Battle of Seattle and ...”
(Scott drags from the cigarette again.)
“… My final stand.”
(Scott dramatically walks out of frame, and continues down the street. The camera man holds in the wide as Scott appears smaller and smaller. Fade)[/SUB]
Lowering the camera from his shoulder the camera man looks to his audio counterpart, “That wasn’t bad. He gave you the money right?”
His question is met with a confused look and a motion of the head that can be mistaken for nothing other than a negative.
“Son of a b**** …” disgruntled and frustrated he calls out to Scott, now long gone, “HEY!?” He waits only a few seconds knowing his attempt is futile. He turns back to his sound man and his ‘deer in the headlights’ facial expression.
“Just pack it up. I’ll get that little prick next time.”
“Sorry I’m late guys.” Scott lamented as he approached the camera crew out side of the Moss Bay Event Center.
The camera crew was made up of just an operator and a sound man who was packing up their limited equipment as Scott apologized. “You’re too late, son.”
Scott reaches for his cell phone, “I’m only …” and checks the time, “Well, I’m pretty late I know but this is my first promo for IWF. I’ve got to get this done.”
“Not our problem. You said one. It’s now four and we are off the clock. We’ll send Art the bill. Nice doing business with you.”
Scott couldn't afford to loose this opportunity and walk into Chain Reaction being the one guy who didn’t promote the show. Maybe if he had already made a name for himself in this territory, or had a in with the management but at this point he was just another faceless number in the locker room who needed to make a name for himself. He felt like the rope was getting short and he had just gotten there.
“Alright, look. I got…” Scott starts digging threw his pockets pulling out loose bills, receipts, and an unused prophylactic. “I got twelve, thirteen …” He straightens out the creased bills and stacks them as he counts. “Thirty two! I got thirty two bucks right here … how much time will that get me?”
The camera man looks to his colleague for his input on the matter yet only receives a bewildered shrug. He thinks about it for a moment and shoots Scott an offer he really can’t refuse.
“We’ll give you fifteen minutes.”
He looks toward his soundman again and this time receives a nod and hand movement one could only perceive as a ‘why not.’
The camera man adds; “Hope you’re the one take type, kid.”
“You and me both.” Scott scoffs.
The camera man turns to remove his camera from its hard travel case, “What’s that?”
“Nothing. I’m ready when you are.” Scott responds quickly in attempt to cover his temporary lack of confidence.
In Texas, Scott hadn’t cut many spots in ring or in studio. For one, there was no studio and the majority of his dates weren’t even televised. Secondly, North West Texas over the past ten or fifteen years had been quite resultant in the face of change and for the most part still continued doing things the way they had been done forever. There wasn’t much room for a young upstart with pop culture references and a penchant for vulgarity. At least that’s the reasoning Scott was given without ever having the chance to really get the feel for the skill set. Mexico was a different story with the same result. Scott’s grasp on the Spanish language was a bit sparse when he arrived in Old Mexico, and honestly it wasn’t a whole lot better by the time he took the dusty trail back to the States. So any camera or in-ring mic time he was granted ended in him standing next to masked man rubbing his hands together and shaking his head in agreement. Even when the Lucha asked the crowd if he and young Scott would loose their upcoming bout.
“You want to do it right here?” the camera man asked.
Scott took a look at the scenery behind him and told the camera man, “It’ll do. Just roll. I assume I’m on the clock.”
“You bet your ass, 5 … 4 … 3 … “
[SUB](Fade In: Scott Douglas standing along the waters edge along side of the Moss Bay Event Center as a sea plane glides down and skates across the still water spraying a fine mist all around its pontoons.
Scott’s unkempt black hair whips in the nearly hostile winds and his facial expression is that of either disdain or determination. His flannel shirt rests slightly askew just under a slightly smaller leather jacket that has seen its better days. His jeans feature several rips and frays from the thigh down to ankle; where his battered boots, that appear to have at on time been completely black, now show they’re signs of wear and abuse in dull off white patches and scuffs.
He reaches up from the waist and waves his hair back over his head and begins to speak.)
“Look, I’ve been up, and I’ve been down … Literally. From my beloved home of the Emerald City down to the **** kickin’ cowboy capitol of the world and further! Seattle’s prodigal son returns to finally make the mark he was intended to.”
(The camera moves in slightly)
“This is a new beginning. A new era. This is the resurgence of grunge. No instruments, no record labels, no magazines. Grunge at it’s most pure. Smash mouth, no frills, dirty, angst laden wide open energy!”
(The camera swings left keeping the shot fixed on Scott but changing the background slightly with his direction.
A few more sails appear along with a dock mooring several boats.)
“Chain Reaction, Kerry Kuroyama, Scott Douglas … The Battle of Seattle, if you will. I know the DOJO, and who doesn’t know ‘The Paragon of Professional Wrestling Excellence’ but we won’t be there and I dare to assume neither will he.”
(Scott steps toward the camera. Taking the cue, the camera man zooms in to a medium shot and holds as Scott continues his adlibbed monologue.)
“I don’t feel like either of us was served up much of a challenge on the first time around. And being that the rest of the field consists of a megalomaniac, a green chick, and the guy I destroyed last week… I think it could be said, regardless of what the brackets show; the title is decided between the two of us live on Chain Reaction! End of story.”
(Scott reaches for his jacket pocket. The camera backs out to a wide shot. From his pocket, Scott produces a pack of cigarettes, removes one, places it between his lips, and lights it. He takes a drag and lets it out slow for dramatic effect.)
“Chain Reaction; Either way Seattle wins … Kuroyama, all the training in the world won’t save you from a man down to his last dollar with his back pressed against the wall. This is my last chance, no exit strategy… This is The Battle of Seattle and ...”
(Scott drags from the cigarette again.)
“… My final stand.”
(Scott dramatically walks out of frame, and continues down the street. The camera man holds in the wide as Scott appears smaller and smaller. Fade)[/SUB]
Lowering the camera from his shoulder the camera man looks to his audio counterpart, “That wasn’t bad. He gave you the money right?”
His question is met with a confused look and a motion of the head that can be mistaken for nothing other than a negative.
“Son of a b**** …” disgruntled and frustrated he calls out to Scott, now long gone, “HEY!?” He waits only a few seconds knowing his attempt is futile. He turns back to his sound man and his ‘deer in the headlights’ facial expression.
“Just pack it up. I’ll get that little prick next time.”
“Only the passage of time will lead to further strength and vision.”
(Fade in from black into the interior of the Dojo in Seattle. Class is in session, overseen by lead trainer FRANK ARES. As the students run a drill of successive snapmares, the aged veteran of the ring voices some observations and advice. After a few moments, he speaks up to call attention.)
Frank Ares
Okay, guys... time for a lesson.
(The drill interrupts in session and the students kneel around their teacher, forming a semi-circle. They seem eager to hear what he has to say)
Frank Ares
Kerry... step forward.
Kerry Kuroyama
Yes, sensei.
(KERRY KUROYAMA rises from the ring and stands near Ares. Frank continues to address the class.)
Frank Ares
Today we’re going to take a closer look at timing and spontaneity while wrestling defensively. In this example, I’m going to show you how to counter a Fisherman Brainbuster. Mr. Kuroyama will serve as a demonstration, seeing as how he might risk the chance of finding himself being the victim of this devastating finisher unless he’s careful.
(Frank motions Kerry to him and demonstrates a collar-and-elbow tie-up on the young IWF up and comer. He reaches down and hooks one of the legs before turning his face to the class again.)
Frank Ares
First... let’s talk about the move. The Fisherman Brainbuster is similar to its Suplex variant in that it uses the leverage of hooking a single leg to lift the opponent up and over the shoulder.
(He temporarily breaks the hold.)
Frank Ares
But unlike the suplex, which drops the opponent on his back for an immediate pin, the Brainbuster goes straight down, dropping one directly on his head for an immediate knock out.
There’s no much else you can do in that situation. In a Fisherman Suplex, you MIGHT have a chance to kick out. But when you’re dropped five, maybe six feet straight onto your cranium, I don’t give a f*ck how tough you think you are... you aren’t getting up for a while, much less three counts. Best way to survive it is to just avoid it at all costs.
(He cuffs Kerry again for the collar-and-elbow tie-up, again hooking the leg as if to demonstrate the move. Instead, he keeps talking to the class.)
Frank Ares
So now I’m going to show you how to avoid it. Forget trying to flip out of it... once you’re in the air, you’re as good as dead. You have to break it up before it has a chance to begin.
Again, this is all about timing. If Kerry ever found himself in this position with “Sub Pop” Scott Douglas, he’s got only half a second to react. Half a second... that’s it. That’s all it takes for the other man to plant his legs into the mat and throw his leverage backwards.
So in that half a second, you have to disrupt that leverage. He’s got one of your legs... so take one of your own.
Kerry, hook my left leg with your right arm...
(Kerry does as he’s told. Now both men are balancing on single legs.)
Frank Ares
Now I’m off a leg, and throwing my weight backwards. Any hope I have of putting him verticle into the air in position for a brainbuster is pretty much gone at this point.
A leg for a leg... it’s as simple as that.
(He breaks it up and stands face to face with Kuroyama.)
Frank Ares
Now... let me show you how it’s done in real time. I’m going to start this off with a quick toe kick to the mid-section, because it’s quick, it’s effective, and it puts him in prime position. I’m going to put him in the front facelock and plant my feet... and while I’m doing that, Mr. Kuroyama is going to hook my leg. Watch what happens...
Okay...
(Kerry braces himself for the blow, and Frank deliveries a solid but relatively safe kick to the abs. He bends over and Ares draws him in, hooking the leg... and as he does, Kerry’s arm reaches down and sweeps the leg as Frank attempts to lift him. Ares ends up dropping onto his back with Kerry on top. Kuroyama quickly follows through by wrapping the hooked leg into a leglock. Frank taps, and Kerry breaks up the hold.)
Frank Ares
Good... good follow through.
(They make it to their feet.)
Frank Ares
And that’s all there is to it.
You can try to power out of it if you think you’ve got the strength, or you can slip out if you think you’ve got the guile... but the only guaranteed way to prevent yourself from taking a plunge is to reverse the leverage and take it to the mat. The lower you are, the less chance you have of being dropped from a high place.
Think you got it?
(The class reply with an affirmative “Yes, sensei” in perfect unison.)
Frank Ares
Good.
Partner off and try to practice this amongst yourselves. Nobody do any heavy lifting... we’re not giving out any concussions today. We leave that for when the bell rings.
(The class respond with a light chuckle and go about their business. Frank nods to Kerry and the two exit the ring together. The two hold a conversation away from the ring, closer to the camera.)
Frank Ares
You know, Kerry... this class isn’t going to teach you everything you need to be successful in that ring.
Kerry Kuroyama
I understand that perfectly, sensei. “Only the passage of time will lead to further strength and vision.”
Frank Ares
So states the Creed...
Kerry Kuroyama
Experience isn’t on my side in this match, and I know that. But it can’t be helped. I’d rather walk into this match with the teachings of the Dojo in my corner than nothing.
That said, the lesson you’ve taught me certainly doesn’t hurt my chances. If “Sub Pop” Scott Douglas can’t use his go-to finisher, he’ll be forced to get creative.
Frank Ares
He’s a man with his back to the wall, kid. He’s not going to going down without a fight.
Kerry Kuroyama
I guess we’ll see how much the wall can withstand, then.
(Frank nods approvingly, pats the student on the shoulder, and motions to the ring.)
Frank Ares
Get to work. Focus on your timing.
Kerry Kuroyama
As you wish, sensei.
(Kuroyama rolls back into the ring and finds a classmate. Ares watches him a moment longer before walking out of the frame. Shortly after, we slowly fade to black.)
(Fade in from black into the interior of the Dojo in Seattle. Class is in session, overseen by lead trainer FRANK ARES. As the students run a drill of successive snapmares, the aged veteran of the ring voices some observations and advice. After a few moments, he speaks up to call attention.)
Frank Ares
Okay, guys... time for a lesson.
(The drill interrupts in session and the students kneel around their teacher, forming a semi-circle. They seem eager to hear what he has to say)
Frank Ares
Kerry... step forward.
Kerry Kuroyama
Yes, sensei.
(KERRY KUROYAMA rises from the ring and stands near Ares. Frank continues to address the class.)
Frank Ares
Today we’re going to take a closer look at timing and spontaneity while wrestling defensively. In this example, I’m going to show you how to counter a Fisherman Brainbuster. Mr. Kuroyama will serve as a demonstration, seeing as how he might risk the chance of finding himself being the victim of this devastating finisher unless he’s careful.
(Frank motions Kerry to him and demonstrates a collar-and-elbow tie-up on the young IWF up and comer. He reaches down and hooks one of the legs before turning his face to the class again.)
Frank Ares
First... let’s talk about the move. The Fisherman Brainbuster is similar to its Suplex variant in that it uses the leverage of hooking a single leg to lift the opponent up and over the shoulder.
(He temporarily breaks the hold.)
Frank Ares
But unlike the suplex, which drops the opponent on his back for an immediate pin, the Brainbuster goes straight down, dropping one directly on his head for an immediate knock out.
There’s no much else you can do in that situation. In a Fisherman Suplex, you MIGHT have a chance to kick out. But when you’re dropped five, maybe six feet straight onto your cranium, I don’t give a f*ck how tough you think you are... you aren’t getting up for a while, much less three counts. Best way to survive it is to just avoid it at all costs.
(He cuffs Kerry again for the collar-and-elbow tie-up, again hooking the leg as if to demonstrate the move. Instead, he keeps talking to the class.)
Frank Ares
So now I’m going to show you how to avoid it. Forget trying to flip out of it... once you’re in the air, you’re as good as dead. You have to break it up before it has a chance to begin.
Again, this is all about timing. If Kerry ever found himself in this position with “Sub Pop” Scott Douglas, he’s got only half a second to react. Half a second... that’s it. That’s all it takes for the other man to plant his legs into the mat and throw his leverage backwards.
So in that half a second, you have to disrupt that leverage. He’s got one of your legs... so take one of your own.
Kerry, hook my left leg with your right arm...
(Kerry does as he’s told. Now both men are balancing on single legs.)
Frank Ares
Now I’m off a leg, and throwing my weight backwards. Any hope I have of putting him verticle into the air in position for a brainbuster is pretty much gone at this point.
A leg for a leg... it’s as simple as that.
(He breaks it up and stands face to face with Kuroyama.)
Frank Ares
Now... let me show you how it’s done in real time. I’m going to start this off with a quick toe kick to the mid-section, because it’s quick, it’s effective, and it puts him in prime position. I’m going to put him in the front facelock and plant my feet... and while I’m doing that, Mr. Kuroyama is going to hook my leg. Watch what happens...
Okay...
(Kerry braces himself for the blow, and Frank deliveries a solid but relatively safe kick to the abs. He bends over and Ares draws him in, hooking the leg... and as he does, Kerry’s arm reaches down and sweeps the leg as Frank attempts to lift him. Ares ends up dropping onto his back with Kerry on top. Kuroyama quickly follows through by wrapping the hooked leg into a leglock. Frank taps, and Kerry breaks up the hold.)
Frank Ares
Good... good follow through.
(They make it to their feet.)
Frank Ares
And that’s all there is to it.
You can try to power out of it if you think you’ve got the strength, or you can slip out if you think you’ve got the guile... but the only guaranteed way to prevent yourself from taking a plunge is to reverse the leverage and take it to the mat. The lower you are, the less chance you have of being dropped from a high place.
Think you got it?
(The class reply with an affirmative “Yes, sensei” in perfect unison.)
Frank Ares
Good.
Partner off and try to practice this amongst yourselves. Nobody do any heavy lifting... we’re not giving out any concussions today. We leave that for when the bell rings.
(The class respond with a light chuckle and go about their business. Frank nods to Kerry and the two exit the ring together. The two hold a conversation away from the ring, closer to the camera.)
Frank Ares
You know, Kerry... this class isn’t going to teach you everything you need to be successful in that ring.
Kerry Kuroyama
I understand that perfectly, sensei. “Only the passage of time will lead to further strength and vision.”
Frank Ares
So states the Creed...
Kerry Kuroyama
Experience isn’t on my side in this match, and I know that. But it can’t be helped. I’d rather walk into this match with the teachings of the Dojo in my corner than nothing.
That said, the lesson you’ve taught me certainly doesn’t hurt my chances. If “Sub Pop” Scott Douglas can’t use his go-to finisher, he’ll be forced to get creative.
Frank Ares
He’s a man with his back to the wall, kid. He’s not going to going down without a fight.
Kerry Kuroyama
I guess we’ll see how much the wall can withstand, then.
(Frank nods approvingly, pats the student on the shoulder, and motions to the ring.)
Frank Ares
Get to work. Focus on your timing.
Kerry Kuroyama
As you wish, sensei.
(Kuroyama rolls back into the ring and finds a classmate. Ares watches him a moment longer before walking out of the frame. Shortly after, we slowly fade to black.)