Post by Deleted on Jun 11, 2019 6:07:32 GMT -5
Jubei enters to noticeably less reporters than his previous interview. He looks nonplus, but nothing more than a child forced into Sunday School. He takes a seat at table draped with two separate cloths: One has the Alpha Rising logo. The second one features the flagship program of Alpha Wrestling, Monday Night Metal. An APW staffer places one a red bottle of Power Aide in front him before unleashing the small pact of sport journalists.
Reporter 1: Jubei, you promised us bigger things than what you showed tonight? Have you rethought your assessment of the roster?
Jubei: I come to you, speaking your Anglo-Saxon... and that is best question you have for me?
Reporter 1: Fans were expected more of the namesake, if were being honest here. Were the expectations too much to fulfill?
Jubei: I'm not answering that.
He then points out a young reporter from the handful that waited for his comments. She also happens to be the only female among them.
Jubei: You, ask me something. Yes, you - come on!
Reporter 2: Fans have asked many questions about your physique. Being that you are of middle age, Mr. Masuda, what does your regimen require to keep up with all the young talent acquired by APW?
Masuda laughs then points directly at her.
Jubei: My regimen... now that's a good question. You clueless old men could learn from...
Reporter 2: Rachel, Rachel Bertrand.
Jubei: Rachel came prepared. The rest of you just want to see me lose my temper. Now go home with that lashing!
Rachel: My question?
That brings him to a bellyaching laugh. It lasts for almost a minute, all while the press corps sits on their hands like idiots. The staffer whispers i: n his about getting the interview finished so others can use it. That little prodding--along with shameless advertisement thrust in front of Jubei--unleashes his other side. Jubei rips open the bottle and pours the entire content over the APW crewman. That stuns the room until their stares eventually move back to laptop and tablet glows.
Jubei: I am not old. However, I require a wide arrangement of techniques to keep in pace with these young stars. I'll admit that is part of my regimen. The rest is a secret blueprint that only now has failed. How's that, Rachel?
Rachel: Thank you, Mr. Masuda.
Jubei: Congratulations. You can ask another question. And not about that crying baby over there.
Rachel deliberates, even calling upon an older colleague for support. Sobs, meanwhile, overtake the back wall. Other members of the crew have since come to their friend's aid, one of many nameless interns to APW's front office. Rachel then raises her hand high.
Jubei: All right. Let's hear it.
Rachel: Mr. Masuda, what can you tell viewers about your plans for next week?
Jubei: See, that's what you people are supposed to do. Document the series without thrusting your pens into my open wounds. But I am fair... today's lashing will be on your own accord. Take home this shameful look where a young girl made all of you look like primary schoolchildren. To answer her question, I must go back to the earliest days of my company. We were not number one at the beginning. There were hard losses. Days when the sun never went into my office. Lest I forget all the physical humiliation of losing amateur matches. Well it did't stop me then, and one loss won't stop me now, Rachel. The rest of you ca get out my sight, you perfidious swine. Next week is my revival and revenge. Both will soon be mine. And to all those thinking I'm out of the picture because of a pinfall... I say bring all your empty skulls so I can fill it with my fist. Jubei out all you gutless, shapeless lampreys.
He tries a Kobe mic drop yet ends up damaging the microphone. The room, all except that hysteric staffer, watch him leave without uttering a word.
Reporter 1: Jubei, you promised us bigger things than what you showed tonight? Have you rethought your assessment of the roster?
Jubei: I come to you, speaking your Anglo-Saxon... and that is best question you have for me?
Reporter 1: Fans were expected more of the namesake, if were being honest here. Were the expectations too much to fulfill?
Jubei: I'm not answering that.
He then points out a young reporter from the handful that waited for his comments. She also happens to be the only female among them.
Jubei: You, ask me something. Yes, you - come on!
Reporter 2: Fans have asked many questions about your physique. Being that you are of middle age, Mr. Masuda, what does your regimen require to keep up with all the young talent acquired by APW?
Masuda laughs then points directly at her.
Jubei: My regimen... now that's a good question. You clueless old men could learn from...
Reporter 2: Rachel, Rachel Bertrand.
Jubei: Rachel came prepared. The rest of you just want to see me lose my temper. Now go home with that lashing!
Rachel: My question?
That brings him to a bellyaching laugh. It lasts for almost a minute, all while the press corps sits on their hands like idiots. The staffer whispers i: n his about getting the interview finished so others can use it. That little prodding--along with shameless advertisement thrust in front of Jubei--unleashes his other side. Jubei rips open the bottle and pours the entire content over the APW crewman. That stuns the room until their stares eventually move back to laptop and tablet glows.
Jubei: I am not old. However, I require a wide arrangement of techniques to keep in pace with these young stars. I'll admit that is part of my regimen. The rest is a secret blueprint that only now has failed. How's that, Rachel?
Rachel: Thank you, Mr. Masuda.
Jubei: Congratulations. You can ask another question. And not about that crying baby over there.
Rachel deliberates, even calling upon an older colleague for support. Sobs, meanwhile, overtake the back wall. Other members of the crew have since come to their friend's aid, one of many nameless interns to APW's front office. Rachel then raises her hand high.
Jubei: All right. Let's hear it.
Rachel: Mr. Masuda, what can you tell viewers about your plans for next week?
Jubei: See, that's what you people are supposed to do. Document the series without thrusting your pens into my open wounds. But I am fair... today's lashing will be on your own accord. Take home this shameful look where a young girl made all of you look like primary schoolchildren. To answer her question, I must go back to the earliest days of my company. We were not number one at the beginning. There were hard losses. Days when the sun never went into my office. Lest I forget all the physical humiliation of losing amateur matches. Well it did't stop me then, and one loss won't stop me now, Rachel. The rest of you ca get out my sight, you perfidious swine. Next week is my revival and revenge. Both will soon be mine. And to all those thinking I'm out of the picture because of a pinfall... I say bring all your empty skulls so I can fill it with my fist. Jubei out all you gutless, shapeless lampreys.
He tries a Kobe mic drop yet ends up damaging the microphone. The room, all except that hysteric staffer, watch him leave without uttering a word.
