(Our shot opens in the Downtown Seattle area, sometime in the early hours of a misty and velvet-skied morning. At a cross roads, only the occasional vehicle comes passing through... but the camera catches sight of a human figure appearing as a shadow beyond the veil of fog. As the shape approaches, we can see it's a man in a zip-up Dojo hoodie out on a quick morning jog. After making his way down the block, he comes to a stop at a small park area on the corner, and pulls back the hood to reveal his identity as that of KERRY KUROYAMA. He takes a moment to catch his breath before grabbing a seat on a nearby park bench and giving his attention to the camera.)
After a long and tedious period of recovery, I came back to the International Wrestling Federation with a single goal. A MISSION, you could call it.
My Mission is to bring the IWF Emerald City Title to the hallowed halls of the Dojo... to begin a new legacy of professional wrestling excellence, from right here in my home, Seattle.
I knew this wouldn't be an easy process... and I'm not going to lie to any of you by saying it has been. The punishment I've taken in that ring in the past few months may have left my body... but I can still feel it in my memories. But it's a small price to pay when one walks the path to prove he is more than just an average wrestler. More than just an EXCEPTIONAL wrestler, even.
The undisputed BEST... whenever, wherever, against whomever.
At Black Dawn, I slugged Erik Mateo to the floor to win a drunken brawl. Then at Chain Reaction Nine, I toppled the gargantuan sevent-foot-tall Russian powerhouse Ivan Dalkichev when I found his Achilles heel. Despite overwhelming odds, I found a way to defy expectations and walk out triumphant. Does this make me the best?
(The Pacific Blitzkrieg shakes his head.)
Not by a long shot, I'm afraid...
These past few matches have merely served as example of my perseverance and fortitude as a competitor and athlete. It took everything I had to win and move forward... but like the saying goes, "That which does not kill me can only make me stronger." That's how I intend to better myself... and to stay one step ahead of competition.
The competition this week, at Chain Reaction Ten, is newcomer Cecilworth J. Farthington... a man who, admittedly, I don't know very much about, other than he hails from across the pond and has traveled a good part of the states, picking up lessons from one wrestling school after the next. Now he's come to the Pacific Northwest... the home of the Dojo, my own wrestling school... so it should be interesting to see how the Dojo's style of wrestling stacks up against every other style across the nation.
But let's not mistake ourselves here... I'm not stepping into the ring at Ten with the intent to conduct a product comparison demo in front of a live audience. My goal is to WIN, despite any sacrifices I may have to make, physical or mental. All of my faith will be invested in the teachings of the Dojo, and the belief that it represents an evolutionary form of professional wrestling. Farthington's mastery in various other styles undoubtedly makes him a disciplined competitor, and I would except a worthy opponent... but not even an encyclopedic understanding of all that has been great in this sport will be able to destroy to the devout conviction I have in all that WILL be great in future generations.
(Kerry puts a pair of fingers up against his neck and holds up his watch to perform a quick pulse check, and apparently decides that it's time to get moving again as he rises to his feet and pulls the hood back over his head. He looks into the camera a final time.)
Cecilworth J. Farthington... welcome to Seattle. Here's your first piece of advice... get yourself a rain coat, because the STORM is coming...
(Kerry turns away and starts himself up at a jog once again. As the sky turns into a painted orange in the pre-sunset moments of the day, the Pacific Blitzkrieg disappears into the mist, and the camera fades to black.)
We find ourselves once again in the company of one of IWF's hot young gun studs, Cecilworth J. Farthington fully dressed in the most spiffy three piece suit you can imagine (even spiffier than some of you low lives are imagining right now). He stands, as can happen in the world of wrestling, in front of a shiny IWF banner backdrop.
Farthington: Yah, so, like, how do you like me know? I know, my debut was totes, totes amazing. Barmy Barney called me up to tell me and I quote "that shit looked wild, that shit looked totally wild". Whoever runs this chill little dive decided to toss me one of their worthless lugs. A man who really should have left the ring in shame the second the bell rang, I mean really, one look at this fabtabulous body, a peek out the ring at my army of advisors, the best trainers money can buy. Dusty Rodgers, that dude should have totes bailed. He didn't though. He made the decision to fight. Adoy doy, Dusty, that wasn't a wise one now was it?
Still, I stood in front of this piddling cheap camera and said, nay warned, that I was about to show everyone in IWF what a real thoroughbred looked like. A man born of the most immaculate conception in the past two thousand years was going to walk into that ring and show everyone the true power of wealth.
That's the funny thing my dear Kerry. It's a real hoot and a half that you spend... sorry let me correct myself... that you waste your life away at this quaint dojo of yours. That you think that energy, passion and fire are the keys to success. You think that hard work, being a "real scrapper", never say die, never surrender, you really think that is the way to career advancement.
You've bought the lie that men like me sell, we sell the idea of hope to you, we sell the idea that with enough hard work you might even be like us. We don't mean it though. Think of what would happen to the dear old country clubs if men like you suddenly thought you could walk around them freely. What would happen, heaven forbid, if you really thought you were above your station. That's why we supply hope.
It's the carrot and stick approach Mr. Kuroyama. Y'know, like, we dangle that little carrot in front of you. We tell you that the key to success is hard work and perseverance and men like you, you buy it. You love to be the best, you want to be the best so you buy every last word. That's why you spend so much time in that adorable dojo with other men like you chasing that same carrot. The idea that you can be a success in life.
Sadly, it's now time for the stick and that stack is called C-Money. The C-Money stick is coming to Chain Reaction 10 with a simple, gently reminder that you best not ever get above your station. I don't pay the big bucks to finest trainers imaginable to allow myself to go down to a "scrapper" like you. Dear lord no. The stick is coming Kerry, just be ready for it.
Suddenly "Sexy and I Know It" begins to play straight out of Mr. Farthington's breast pocket. He scrambles to grab his celular mcmobile device and answer the awaiting call.
Farthing: Yah? Oh yah! Nah, can't talk now, totes busy. Doing that wrestling thing! I know, it's a real trip! Ah well, it entertains the little people. Kinda like doing community service but without that ghastly time spent in a court room. Do you see the people they let in there? Anyway, got to go. LOVE YOU LOTS!
Cecilworth jams the phone back into his pocket.
Farthington: Can we wrap this little thing up? I mean, this is cute and all but that was a very important person on the phone. We're talking v. v. veep. Mad cash money on the line! MAD CASH MONEY! Much more important than this piddling little wrestling hobby of mine, I mean really, it's just a way to kill time. Well that and prove my grand superiority to all. FUCK YOU DAD...
(The shot opens up at the Dojo during its regular evening business hours. KERRY KUROYAMA appears before the camera, dressed in his training gear. Over his shoulder we can see Frank Ares in the ring giving hell to a pair of new recruits. Our attention, however, doesn't leave the earnest gaze of the Pacific Blitzkrieg seated on the bench before us.)
Hope is "adorable" to you, Farthington?
(He takes a glance over his shoulder at the guys in the ring, then turns back to the camera.)
For some of the guys in this gym... HOPE is all there is to be had. But even I know that hope and determination aren't enough. There will be many who work their entire lives and get nowhere near where they want to be... and in some cases, it's because there's always a privileged few who get everything handed to them without having to lift a finger. That's the dark reality of the real world.
But in the ring, those rules have no standing. The ring is the great equalizer in this world. A poor man stands across from a rich man... and rather than the money, fame, and power that separates them in the real world, only the combined use of wits, training, and experience will determine who walks out a winner and who leaves in defeat.
I wish I could say I traveled from one coast to the next, studying from every school in every city that had a canvas bound to four steel posts. But unfortunately, I never had the means or to take such an expensive pilgrimage. After all, I was born to a wrestler... not a British lord.
This place is all that I have... and yet, the things I've learned here have thus far carried me above some of those most competitive and well-traveled athletes in this sport. Every match only matches me stronger... and every victory, more determined.
(He comes to his feet, taking a swig off the water bottle as he does so, and gives his knuckle an audible crack. He looks ready to get back into the ring.)
You see this place, and you scoff. And why wouldn't you? After all, you have all the wisdom and experience of numerous wrestling masters from all across the country backing you up. How could an insignificant dime-a-dozen wrestling school like this be any different?
I guess you'll have that answer once that bell rings, and I show you up close the belief and the conviction of our Mission.
You don't understand it... and goes as far as dismiss it as an "adorable" emotion instead of a very real and very determined zeal for battle... but it's because you only have my words by which to judge me. Regardless of how you see this place and how you still me, even you still don't know me as a wrestler, Farnswirth. And I'm also assuming you don't yet know or at the very least know very little of the ever-growing list of individuals who have come before you and doubted me just as well. If you did, then you would know that there's more than mere hope to what I bring when it's fight-time.
I didn't HOPE myself back to my feet back at Surge when an alcoholic haze had me clinging to the ropes so that I didn't fly off the earth. I didn't HOPE the giant Ivan Dalkichev into submission back at Chain Reaction Nine.
Likewise, I didn't hope I'd get this far and still be unbeaten... because I've known from the beginning that I've ALWAYS had the ability to get here on my own.
When we come face to face at Chain Reaction Ten, Cecilworth... win or lose, I will show you something that even a man of your experience has never seen before.
(Kuroyama drops the towel draped over his neck onto the bench and starts back to the ring. As he gets back to his training, our shot slowly fades to black.)
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