Post by bad guy™ on Mar 2, 2012 23:34:22 GMT -5
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Truth be told, he’d never been to Japan, let alone does he know the language or anything about the culture (although the glorified male whorehouse he accidently walked into thinking it was the food joint because of the snake and bottle in neon lights outside of the building surely showed him how colorful of a culture it really is). Truth be told, he’d never been to Asia, let alone really bother to learn much about what goes on there (although if that building that he walked in is of any indication of what the East is all about…he’ll be just find not exploring and learning more about the culture). Truth be told, he’d only been outside of Ireland once, and it was to go to the United States to wrestle just a few weeks before today. Truth be told, being in a completely foreign country, being forced to work with a man he barely knew (and seemingly didn’t care to be known) in a more or less brand new job that has him going out in front of tens of thousands of people and fighting for the most prestigious honor any tag team wrestler can ever ask for has Ripp Jackson nervous as f*ck. He knows the pressures that come with this job, and he knows that WFWF CEO Xavier Pierce placed an immense amount of trust in him and Thunder to go out there and put on the show of a lifetime for those WFWF Tag Team Championships (and probably subliminally hoping that they’ll do him a solid by eliminating Dave Demento from the WFWF equation for good, which Jackson would have no problem doing mind you.)
But regardless, here he is. Walking towards (hopefully) the restaurant that Thunder recommended meeting him at. Scarred for life.
Seriously…I don’t mind people loving who they want to love, but it was just a bit of a shock to me, given I walk into a place fully expecting to have a great meal in preparation for the show and get the shock of a lifetime.
But Ripp Jackson also grapples and wrestles men in elastic underwear on a showly basis, so he knows he really has no room to judge.
Aye, this is my personal story about my account of what’s going down. Tell it like it’s happening without trying to argue with me. Got it Mr. Narrator man?
…anyways. Ripp continues walking down the street. It’s not quite time to go to the show yet, and he wanted to meet up with Thunder. Having never been in Tokyo before, and knowing Thunder had, he let Thunder pick the place that they were to meet up. He’s about twenty minutes late for the meeting, so Thunder’s probably just thrilled with him right now. Realizing this, Ripp hustles, still trying to find the meeting place.
"I really have no idea what to expect going into this. It’s just a pre-match meeting that I requested…so I should know what to expect. But this is Thunder I’m dealing with. He was at one point one of the greatest wrestlers the WFWF had to offer. He competed and won matches that new guys like me can’t even wrap my head around. But now, he’s just a shell of what he was. In recent weeks, he’s been on the losing end of a series of matches against Shawn Malakai, he’s lost to the likes of Mak Cross twice and let’s not forget the disasters against EBR and Kyzer which, all things considered, did end in a no contest. Why Pierce would partner a washed up has been and the best up and comer in years together against the one real team in the WFWF is beyond me…but hey, I’m involved in my first title match, and even if I have to carry dead weight around in the form of a hollow 34 year old men in order to cement my name in WFWF history just a few weeks into my career, then so be it."
Ripp arrives at what he believes is the restaurant.
"Hmm…I guess this is it. Hopefully. I don’t want a repeat of that happened a few minutes ago," he says, getting chills up his spine being reminded of it.
Ripp opens the door to what he hopes is a restaurant (it is) and makes his way into the cozy little joint. He scans the room and cannot find Thunder. A hostess walks up to him, speaking in broken English.
"Can I help find seat? Many?" she asks.
"Aye, I’m looking for my bloke. Anyone come in for two?"
She gives him a puzzled look, not understanding him through his accent. Ripp reaches into his pocket, pulls out his phone and pulls up Thunder’s roster page on WFWF’s website and shows her the headshot.
"My friend. He here?"
"Oh yes, yes. Back left."
Ripp looks around to the back corner and sees Thunder sitting down, an empty bottle of Sake sitting in front of him, and a glass of soda sitting next to that. He walks over and sits down across from Thunder, who looks up from his drink only momentarily.
"That Sake bottle had better have been filled with water, mate," says Jackson, irritated immediately by Thunder drinking alcohol.
"What, you have an issue with a man enjoying a little bit of hard proof?" asks Thunder, seemingly offended by Ripp being put off by him drinking.
"We’ve got a big match coming up brother. I don’t want my partner hung over or drunk. We’ve got a job to do."
Thunder takes another quick swig.
"There’s more to life than what we do, youngin’. You’re gonna have to learn that right quick otherwise this business is going to eat you up and spit you out while laughing at this ‘good, just little boy’ routine you’re running," says Thunder, CLEARLY mocking Ripp with a really bad country bumpkin accent.
"And there’s more to life than alcohol and what can only be described as self-induced depression thanks to an impossible bout of ‘pity me’. You were supposed to be this professional wrestler, emphasis on the professional. I guess now you’re at the stage in your career, in your life where you need that liquid courage to move on, aye old man?" replies Ripp, swinging a stinger right back at Thunder.
Thunder and Jackson stare each other in the eye.
Why on earth would Pierce team the two of us together? We’re polar opposites.
Perhaps Ripp is just not seeing the bigger picture.
What did I tell you about interjecting your own commentary in my psychedelically narrated life story?
All joking aside, the conversation continues.
"So what’s the game plan going into this?" asks Ripp, anxious.
"Hmm?"
"You. Me. Benjamin and Demento. Tag Titles. What’s the game plan?"
"Hmm," says Thunder, seeming to be pondering the question. "Wing it."
"Incredible failed attempt at humor there, mate," says Ripp. Ripp is clearly not amused at Thunder’s laissez-faire approach to the biggest match of Ripp’s career thusfar.
No. No I’m not.
Ripp sits up in his seat and adjusts himself so Thunder has no choice but to take notice.
"Look man, I don’t know what your beef with me is. Since I came in here you’ve done nothing but mock and contradict me," says Ripp, irritated.
"And since you came in here, you’ve done nothing but insult me for supposedly not taking this match seriously, for one reason or another."
Silence falls on the back corner table.
"Look, kid. I know you’re excited for your first real opportunity here in the WFWF. I know you’re ready to prove yourself. Frankly, as long as you don’t cost me a win, I really couldn’t care less how you go about it. Have at it. But I’ll give you this one piece of advice. You need to pace yourself. Act like you’ve been here before. You’re getting on me for saying that I’m planning on winging it in this match. I’ve been in this business since you were just a little child…"
The long-winded speech from Thunder was cut short as Thunder’s cell phone begins to ring. He looks at the Caller I.D., but not before Ripp catches a glimpse of what it said. Incoming: Phillip Schneider. Thunder stares at the phone for a moment and then sends it to voicemail.
Shame, that could have been a very interesting conversation to overhear. Schneider’s gotta be right angry.
"As I was saying, I’ve learned through my experiences that planning ahead is nothing but an unproductive waste of time. To learn someone’s weaknesses is useless, because by the time you’ve learned that weakness, they’ve made it a strength. You can’t waste your time by going over potential scenarios that may, could but probably will not happen in a match, because if you over think and overanalyze, you’re going to get tagged hard and lose. Trust me, I’ve done it more than once. But I’ve learned from my mistakes, I’ve learned not to overanalyze and as a result, I sit here before you today one of only three WFWF Grand Slam Champions in history."
Yeah, and loser of eight straight to guys I’m beating on a weekly basis.
"You have to just take whatever these guys throw at you and throw something harder. You can’t anticipate anything, because it probably won’t happen. Just go with it."
That’s some sage advice, old fella.
"’A rainbow is nothing more than a trick of light, making us think something is there when there really isn’t,’" says Thunder.
"Nice. Socrates?"
"Dexter Morgan."
Ripp smirks. Maybe Thunder’s not so much of a doucher after all.
"Point is Ripp, you’re looking for things that aren’t really there, and you’re letting your overzealousness and your previous impositions control your current actions. You were so sure that I wasn’t taking this match as seriously as you thought and wanted me to that you came in here wanting, hoping and praying to find something to hammer me for in order to prove yourself right. Truth is, I want to win this match as bad as you do. Not for you, for my own personal reasons. But the point is, I am. That shellacking you have me at the beginning when you walked in about the empty bottle of Sake? You’re so convinced that my generally laid back attitude was just me being lazy, not caring and wanting you to do all of the work in the match that you failed to learn that I refuse to pre-examine my opponents for fear of overanalyzing and costing myself the match. You’re so convinced that I was drinking myself into a stouper that you failed to notice that the bottle’s bone dry. It’s not even mine, it was still on the table when I took my seat."
Ripp looks down at the table.
If the bottle wasn’t his…maybe he’s taking this fight more seriously than I expected him to.
"Let’s be honest, neither of us is very happy that Pierce placed us together, but when we win tonight, we’re stuck together until they pry those titles from around our waists. Maybe we’ll grow to tolerate each other, maybe we won’t, but we have no choice regardless but to live with it."
Thunder gets up and looks down at Ripp, who’s now staring at the bottle.
"All things considered, since we have to live with it, we may as well make the best of it. I’m not as much of a tool as you think I am, and maybe now because of this little lesson I’m delivering to you free of charge, it’s registering to you what this is truly all about. You got raw potential kid, you just need to not the cart ahead of the ass. Now I was here twenty minutes before you, and in the process I downed three sodas. I gotta piss. If you’ll excuse me."
"Sure, sure."
Maybe I can teach this guy a lesson too. He’s talking a good game, but he hasn’t won a match in ages. The guy thinks I need help to make my name? Maybe it wouldn’t be such a terrible idea. But this guy needs a serious boost of life. He’s not getting any younger, but surely he has a little bit of gas left in the tank. He’s probably a lost cause, but I could use a little side project while making a name for myself. If I can help make this team a little less one sided, there may be hope for us yet.
The main door to the joint slams closed, but Ripp thinks nothing of it. The server comes up with the bill and hands it to Ripp.
"Oh, no," Ripp tells the waitress. "My mate’s going to pay for his items, I just came here to meet him."
"No. He leave. You pay."
"Whaaaaa…"
Ripp turns around in his seat and sees the figure of Thunder walking down the sidewalk and disappearing into the lights of the Tokyo nightlife.
Motherf*cker.
Yep.
Ripp reaches into his wallet and drops down ¥179 and walks out of the restaurant. Thunder is nowhere to be found, so Ripp figures it’s about time to head over to the arena.
"This has been quite the whirlwind couple of weeks. To this date, I’ve gone toe to toe with a fellow rookie and shocked his system so bad that his first match was his last. I then went on to defeat the previously undefeated Mak Cross…the man whose rise is not-so-quietly being compared to the rise of talents like Kyzer and Destroyer. And then right after that I managed to, alongside Thunder, take down the two top contenders for the WFWF National Championship in Cam Nitta and Richard Wilkes, in one fell swoop."
"Meanwhile, this rising star is being forced to work with a man who’s star, in most people’s eyes, supernova’d long ago. Thunder, thanks to me, was able to pick up the victory last week against Cam Nitta and Richard Wilkes. But before that though, I can’t even remember watching the randomly named shows and seeing Thunder get the victory. All I was seeing was Thunder losing to the likes of EBR, Mak Cross and Shawn Malakai on more than one occasion."
"But now I’m posed with quite the conundrum. I am being given the opportunity of a lifetime when it comes to getting a shot at the WFWF Tag Team Championships. However, in order to take complete advantage of that opportunity of a lifetime, I have no choice but to work with Thunder. Thunder thinks of me as some cocky hotshot, his mocking tones he was using while he was grilling me at the restaurant gave that much away. But what he fails to realize is that I’m not quite as green as he thinks. Aye, I’ve been through plenty in my life, and I know not to take anything for granted. Despite what I’m sure he’s thinking, I’m not just a ‘one-hit wonder.’ I know what I want, and I’m going to take it."
"However in relation to that conundrum I was mentioning…while I’m on my rise, Thunder is clearly near the end of his career. And now I have to take his career literally into my hands. He’s like Old Yeller, and I’m Travis. I have the potential to either make the attempt to heal him back to proper, somewhat tip top form or just let him continue on his path, essentially putting him down out of his misery. I’m torn, because I really think that I have the ability help him. The potential is there. I mean, Michael Kyzer, someone who’s been around just as long as Thunder has managed to revive his career and take the WFWF by storm once more. Although, unlike Kyzer, Thunder is attempting this revitalization of his career while never missing a beat, by never leaving the WFWF behind like Kyzer did, so I have to give the bloke some mad props for that. However, in the back of my mind, I can’t help but wonder if Thunder’s ultimately just a lost cause."
Ripp stops walking for a moment, takes a deep breath, and then he continues on his way towards the arena.
"Well, that’s a decision that I can come to at a later date. As it stands right now, I have no choice but to rely on him as we go into battle together on the canvas plains of the WFWF ring, under the lights and the scrutiny of thousands in the building watching life, and the millions of people who are watching from home. And together he and I must ride into battle against the likes of Randel Benjamin and Dave Demento."
"Randel Benjamin and Dave Demento have both been a thorn in the side of all of the WFWF superstars and the WFWF hierarchy since their debut a few months back. And ever since Xavier Pierce took over as CEO, Demento has made it his life’s mission to make sure Pierce knows that he is not undoing the heaping loads of damage that King Kraig and his crew caused fast enough. The bloke’s going as fast as he can, and if Demento can’t accept that and move on with his life then I really can’t wait to give him a serious reality check."
Ripp stops for a moment and takes a quick moment to admire the sights of the Tokyo nightlife. Despite his interesting encounter with that interesting building an hour or so ago, he comes to the realization that Japan’s actually not that bad after all. He continues on his way to the arena.
"And it’s even better because if we’re to take out Demento, we take out the whole beast. I don’t even think Randel Benjamin can speak proper English. I mean, my accent is thicker than the air in an early London morning, but he reminds me of a Hindi looking Don Vito, without the advantage of being funny to listen to and without the much needed subtitles at the bottom of the screen. However, Benjamin is no more than the muscle…well, I’ll be honest, he’s not really the muscle, but rather the fat behind their little operation. If Demento is eliminated from the picture, Benjamin may as well be one majorly oversized f*cking lost puppy doggy. But Demento man…the bloke’s dangerous. Hideous looking, but mighty dangerous. But given all of the problems that he, and to a different extend Benjamin, caused for everyone, Pierce, Thunder and myself included…I’m looking forward to taking these two on, and taking them out…hopefully for good."
"All in all though, it’s all about the gold. The WFWF Tag Team Championships. If I have to choose between getting the guaranteed win or doing more damage to the both of them, I’m not going to allow my DID or my overly aggressive nature to take over and cost me…and I guess Thunder, the opportunity to become WFWF Tag Team Champions and join the likes of Los Hobos, The Holocaust, Gen. Next…all of those legendary teams, and my name will be etched into the record books with them, and it’s only my fourth match here."
"Tonight, I’m going to go out to that ring and prove myself to everyone. I’m going to prove to the world that I belong out there in the ring with the best of the best, and I’m going to put my name in the record books in the process to prove it. I’m going to make Teague, Mum and everyone else back at home proud when I, along with Thunder, stand with the WFWF Tag Team Championships held high."
Ripp smiles as he arrives at the side entrance to the arena. He takes another deep breath, opens the door, and walks in for the biggest match of his career thusfar.
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I dont know good luck 