Post by Jubei on May 28, 2020 12:05:09 GMT -5
Open to the lit face of Masuda Jubei in an interrogation setting with him as inquisitor. Lamplight overhead gives to an ominous presence most would associate with criminal dramas. Jubei, however, sits there in a calm state with chin balanced on bridged fingers. Silhouettes of Mr. Shoda and others blend into the darkness behind The Master’s chair.
Jubei: I know we’ve had a “falling out” over many of the alleged incidents to date. That power invested in you by Alpha Pro-Wrestling stirs the balance. I am supposed to be at the peak, yet you and others keep me out of main events. Booking me against the flow might be your friend now, but if you persist on this path, it will also be your downfall. I promise you that.
There’s silence from the foreground.
Jubei: You cannot leave this room until I get what I came for. The reasons are my own. However, the longer you stall my work, the longer you remain in our custody. There’s no escape from what I can do to you. We are everywhere. Nowhere exists out of my sight. Prolong all you want, it won’t change anything. You’ve already wronged the last person to cross in this promotion. Now come the consequences.
Masuda points to a man behind him who presents something like a cutting board and a dagger sheathed in an elaborate scabbard. Jubei brandishes the knife for a theatric inspection of its beveled edge. He then places it facing towards the accused, and in the process, the unspoken foreground.
Jubei: I believe in justice. To swiftly correct sinners. You infringed on the stranglehold I put on APW when you allowed that traitorous Hachiro to speak on my behalf. Never once vetting his allegiances. One session with a professional investigator and you would have seen his veiled intentions. He, along with unscrupulous investors, sought to discredit me. You might even say they killed me—and in that vein—your mishandling passed the knife into Hachiro’s hands. A mortal blow from which I am still recovering to this day. Like a credit rating, I can’t simply convince the environment that I’m fit for business and competition. It requires bold acts to prove my improvement. That’s where you, this dagger from my family vault and your pinky absolve the evil you brought upon my name.
Jason Zurra takes a long look at the subtle horror of his yubitsume setup.
Zurra: And if I refuse?
Jubei’s sinister smile answers that in full.
Jubei: There is, of course, another option. Give me Jake Karnes.
Zurra: Why?
Jubei: He owes something even our scared gestures can’t repay.
Zurra: There are many conditions. First, we expect him to be safe before and after your match. Because if I do anything for you—and that’s a big “if”—it’s only for outstanding favors. We’re not friends or business partners. I can’t help you with these bad ideas anymore, Masuda. Actually… I think we’re done here!
Jubei: Then you can tell that to darkness.
Zurra: Darkness?
Jubei: Your new home until I get what I deserve.
Several figures enclose from the shadows.
Zurra: They’ll come looking for me… you don’t have the same power you once held in APW.
Jubei: In time, everyone see the truth.
Zurra: What truth? This is ludicrous!
Jubei: The people will understand soon enough that I won’t stop until I reclaim my throne.
Zurra looks up to see no less than five men preparing to abduct him, so he bargains instead.
Zurra: I’ll get you Jake Karnes. But after that… you and me are finished. Is that clear?
Jubei: Then make the call.
We open to a dark room of unknown size until a row of fluorescent lights kick on to motions sensors. There we see Masuda in his all black suit combo. He stands offset with what appears to an anatomy model of a human skeleton. His hands overlap in a ceremonial posture with what appears to be mason’s hammer clutched waist high.
”Kingdom. Come. I had to research the phrase because it didn’t make sense at first. I realize its connotation has morphed over the centuries, but the core remains the same. Every act—every move we make end at the same crossroads. There are benefits and consequences.”
Jubei swings the hammer in a sudden, violent arc that shatters multiple ribs on the plastic skeleton.
”Prudent or not, we prepare for worst case scenarios. Catastrophizing every detail along that snaking path to power. The kind of power that will one day crush APW’s heart.”
He swings again, this time, denting in the orbital bone and fracturing sinuses.
”I’m at the point in my career where nothing surprises me about APW’s contracts. There are wild animals everywhere, but I only respect those that respect our sport. An agreement that James Nightingale broke when he turned Mason Anderson into human sewage. Many of you argue how I nearly paralyzed a man not under contract by APW. A slumlord of promotions, Vincent Pryde, whose unwillingness to back down against me ended in a deserved beating. He invaded the ring that I built—for a company I died to promote and advance—then attacked my name. Pryde doomed himself.
Many assume that both “savage beat downs” are on the same level of misconduct. Casual observers agree. They’re wrong. I inflicted immeasurable harm on a man unfit for any ring. Someone not under contract. But James, you endangered someone under APW’s employ. Now if people still want to level us on equal footing—try again. Nightingale will claim control of his actions like a forest fire, but I know that look. He enjoys torment. Even torturers take time off to recharge their humanity. Even if I prefer devils to saints, even I can’t stomach what you bring to this company. Retiring your vile imprint of APW might just be my civic duty.”
Jubei takes another swing, this time, shattering the skeleton’s lower jaw.
”What do you wish to achieve from all these bad intentions? I’ve seen what happens when someone tries to use this platform to make themselves a god. It all comes crashing down like the failed bullet to Robespierre’s jaw… how fitting.”
He winds up, landing another skull splitting strike.
”You can only bring locust swarms so many times to the wrestling ring. Eventually, you have to evolve to meet the weekly demands of this game. No one cares if you fought Odin Balfore. The Allfather vacations slow months here on a legend’s bender. Irina and her stooges welcome muckrakers by the allure of ticket sales and their wrinkled visages on PPV marquees. What do you bring to APW besides disharmony? Does this floundering company really need more lawsuits and oversight restrictions? It barely survives off dangerous gambles. It only takes one lazy pallbearer to drop the casket. Keep that in mind while you stare into your fiendish nightlife, dreaming of how you’ll win this match. That’s all they are: clouded dreams.”
He adjusts the swiveling head to look back towards the camera.
”Everyone tried to be surprised when it all went wrong… especially for Jake Karnes. How else can we downplay F grade meat? I believe a story will suffice. His career fell to an abysmal depth. Why else would someone willingly sign under Vincent Pryde? There’s a steep learning curve to this business yet everyone still tries to cut corners. Shave off a few years, hoping no one notices. Jake fed from the deceiver’s hand only to find himself another clueless victim to his Nigerian prince of a handshake.
Pryde used homeless men—some of them World War veterans—for blood sport. People no one will miss after a brutal death match or hardcore minefield. However, you can only put on so many matches with “bums” before you run out of talent. Fans can only stomach the same carnage “X” number of times. After that point, you get creative with booking by filling the gaps with whomever meets these criteria: unloved, absentmindedness and an unquenchable dream for wrestling. I present you ‘The Revenant’ Jake Karnes!”
His hammer swings through the ribs into the chest cavity.
”Some men have all the heart this industry craves. Make people believe in the sappy side of our business. When the trials of learning this sport endears them to casual viewers. Natural charisma Hollywood has long minted into that ‘old rookie’ sob story. Except it doesn’t matter in the ring. People can believe in whatever side they want… only corner wins the match.
Some will point out that I passed him for opportunities when he tried to be a part of New Blood Wrestling. Yes, for being a terrible wrestler. Jake felt winded after running the ropes during warmups. Routine exercises even I can do at forty-seven! He persisted without improving his style or regimen. Some people let obsessions chip years off their lives. Jake even let a literal shot in the back—by Zion’s killer, well, the presumed murderer of Zion Simmons—push him forward. That’s unhealthy.
Eventually, these mistakes catch up to us. Everything Jake Karnes carries on his back is going to slow him down to the point where he can’t even walk. That’s a death sentence in the ring. Savages like James Nightingale will jump on that weakness. Masters like me also smell easy blood in the water. Jake might be the candid favorite for reality TV, but to me, he’s just deadweight.”
Jubei steps into a full swing that goes under the ribcage, exploding the plastic spine into thousands of random shards. Masuda breathes heavy over his handiwork before dropping the hammer. A different shot hovers over his shoulder, an overview of the chaos beside his slanted profile.
”If the entire body cannot withstand the pressure. If one part can’t do its job… catastrophic systemic failure. Take these bones as a reminder that we are but fragile pieces. When I went to Tokyo last summer, I never expected to be beaten within in an inch of my life. All I knew was APW needed a beacon. Someone to prove that we weren’t trying to jump into the spotlight. We came to steal it! And so we did, gambling on my ties to Tokyo back from my youth. Fighters always feel welcome returning home. So I rolled on that feeling. Then I busted. Lost everything in a bloody pulp.
Where are the men like James Nightingale in the story? They get an “unsafe” label for the rest of their career. Victims like Jake Karnes get the gift of free press and cheers no matter how he fares in APW. What do I get from these greedy, entitled brats: Nothing! They spit on me. The same man whose near-death experience made the world see Alpha Pro-Wrestling for the first time. Who lured talent from our biggest competitors on the promise of “easy” championships. Now that I’ve returned—where’s my purple carpet? I never lost the World Title. Where’s my shot? I deserve respect!”
His laughter cuts back to a frontal shot of the carnage and his grim visage.
”This company realizes what I’m made of, and what I’ll do if given the same power I held before that night in Tokyo. Sunday marks a three-pronged attack at my career. First, they want to see this unhinged lunatic get his hands on me. A talented wrestler whose bloodlust only makes him mindlessly dangerous. An obstacle meant to pressure me into retirement.
Likewise, they want me to consider retirement by placing me in matches against the likes of Jake Karnes. A career high for someone his fellow talent used to call a laughing idiot. Boredom sets in early, begging me to get sloppy. To make a mistake that could be career ending at forty-seven. You already saw it. Bones are fragile, and at my age, they’ll never get any stronger.
Fighting these misfits also means I’m not where I belong on the card. James maxes out upper-mid while Jake will never reach this high ever again. He’s had almost two decades to learn the system. I don’t see him improving his stock in just three weeks. Just another threat to my legacy… but that stops here. No more useless tag teams. No more surprise matches. No more mistakes. Kingdom Come, I will leave the ring another step closer to reclaiming what’s rightfully mine… osāma bansai.”
He walks into the background with all but one set of lights to illuminate the skeleton. A door closes out of sight. Moments later, the entire model falls off its wooden support into tatters.
Masuda and Jason Zurra have since reconvened in an adjacent room far from the reaches of Jubei’s muscle. They share piping hot cups of green tea around a small table. Industrial framework surrounds them in what appears to be a construction site.
Zurra: You know this is very last thing I’m doing for you. Your methods almost got me fired last year. Now, god, I don’t even know why I keep entertaining thoughts with you, Jubei. These talks never end well.
Jubei: Maybe you need to be more open to the opportunities I can create for you.
Zurra: Name one.
Masuda puts his cup down with the sweetness of nightshade.
Jubei: You’re ungrateful… but that’s to be expected from an usurper. I’ve forgiven you for all the things you did to swindle me out of the business. Even if you did so without malice—they affected my business.
Zurra: What business? You talk me into circles. And you haven’t stopped talking about Zion Simmons.
The Master’s features darken.
Jubei: I want Jake Karnes because he’s been talking to this investigator. She was a gesture of good faith by my people through an independent party. Someone with no stake in the Zion investigation. Yet she persists with the evidence collected by her collective bargaining, leaving no stone unturned.
Zurra: Didn’t they arrest that rehab cyclist? What was his name?
Jubei: Police have all the evidence connecting Cassidy Kaine to the murder. Yet this “Madame V” fancies herself a true crime hero. Now she’s asking for independent information my company only released to the police. We’re not at fault. Everyone questioned had alibies; or like me, they were out of the country. She thinks there’s something hidden. A conspiracy theory involving my company and our swift enrapture of Zion’s assets. We were on the board. We had majority shares. We’re not criminals.
Jason takes a long, incredulous sip from his teacup.
Zurra: Who are you trying to convince? Because if it’s me… you’ll have to try harder.
Jubei: I don’t need your approval. Just a match with Jake Karnes. So then I can make an impression.
Zurra: Brainwash him?
Jubei: No, but if he gets the story from that PI... he’ll never give my side a chance. I’m putting out fires before they start, Zurra. Now make the match.
Zurra: I’ll see what I can do. But if there’s anything going on here unrelated to the PPV. I’m not swerving for you, Jubei. In fact… I’d rather watch you burn in hell.
Jubei: That’s more like it. Now make the goddamn call.
Jubei: I know we’ve had a “falling out” over many of the alleged incidents to date. That power invested in you by Alpha Pro-Wrestling stirs the balance. I am supposed to be at the peak, yet you and others keep me out of main events. Booking me against the flow might be your friend now, but if you persist on this path, it will also be your downfall. I promise you that.
There’s silence from the foreground.
Jubei: You cannot leave this room until I get what I came for. The reasons are my own. However, the longer you stall my work, the longer you remain in our custody. There’s no escape from what I can do to you. We are everywhere. Nowhere exists out of my sight. Prolong all you want, it won’t change anything. You’ve already wronged the last person to cross in this promotion. Now come the consequences.
Masuda points to a man behind him who presents something like a cutting board and a dagger sheathed in an elaborate scabbard. Jubei brandishes the knife for a theatric inspection of its beveled edge. He then places it facing towards the accused, and in the process, the unspoken foreground.
Jubei: I believe in justice. To swiftly correct sinners. You infringed on the stranglehold I put on APW when you allowed that traitorous Hachiro to speak on my behalf. Never once vetting his allegiances. One session with a professional investigator and you would have seen his veiled intentions. He, along with unscrupulous investors, sought to discredit me. You might even say they killed me—and in that vein—your mishandling passed the knife into Hachiro’s hands. A mortal blow from which I am still recovering to this day. Like a credit rating, I can’t simply convince the environment that I’m fit for business and competition. It requires bold acts to prove my improvement. That’s where you, this dagger from my family vault and your pinky absolve the evil you brought upon my name.
Jason Zurra takes a long look at the subtle horror of his yubitsume setup.
Zurra: And if I refuse?
Jubei’s sinister smile answers that in full.
Jubei: There is, of course, another option. Give me Jake Karnes.
Zurra: Why?
Jubei: He owes something even our scared gestures can’t repay.
Zurra: There are many conditions. First, we expect him to be safe before and after your match. Because if I do anything for you—and that’s a big “if”—it’s only for outstanding favors. We’re not friends or business partners. I can’t help you with these bad ideas anymore, Masuda. Actually… I think we’re done here!
Jubei: Then you can tell that to darkness.
Zurra: Darkness?
Jubei: Your new home until I get what I deserve.
Several figures enclose from the shadows.
Zurra: They’ll come looking for me… you don’t have the same power you once held in APW.
Jubei: In time, everyone see the truth.
Zurra: What truth? This is ludicrous!
Jubei: The people will understand soon enough that I won’t stop until I reclaim my throne.
Zurra looks up to see no less than five men preparing to abduct him, so he bargains instead.
Zurra: I’ll get you Jake Karnes. But after that… you and me are finished. Is that clear?
Jubei: Then make the call.
We open to a dark room of unknown size until a row of fluorescent lights kick on to motions sensors. There we see Masuda in his all black suit combo. He stands offset with what appears to an anatomy model of a human skeleton. His hands overlap in a ceremonial posture with what appears to be mason’s hammer clutched waist high.
”Kingdom. Come. I had to research the phrase because it didn’t make sense at first. I realize its connotation has morphed over the centuries, but the core remains the same. Every act—every move we make end at the same crossroads. There are benefits and consequences.”
Jubei swings the hammer in a sudden, violent arc that shatters multiple ribs on the plastic skeleton.
”Prudent or not, we prepare for worst case scenarios. Catastrophizing every detail along that snaking path to power. The kind of power that will one day crush APW’s heart.”
He swings again, this time, denting in the orbital bone and fracturing sinuses.
”I’m at the point in my career where nothing surprises me about APW’s contracts. There are wild animals everywhere, but I only respect those that respect our sport. An agreement that James Nightingale broke when he turned Mason Anderson into human sewage. Many of you argue how I nearly paralyzed a man not under contract by APW. A slumlord of promotions, Vincent Pryde, whose unwillingness to back down against me ended in a deserved beating. He invaded the ring that I built—for a company I died to promote and advance—then attacked my name. Pryde doomed himself.
Many assume that both “savage beat downs” are on the same level of misconduct. Casual observers agree. They’re wrong. I inflicted immeasurable harm on a man unfit for any ring. Someone not under contract. But James, you endangered someone under APW’s employ. Now if people still want to level us on equal footing—try again. Nightingale will claim control of his actions like a forest fire, but I know that look. He enjoys torment. Even torturers take time off to recharge their humanity. Even if I prefer devils to saints, even I can’t stomach what you bring to this company. Retiring your vile imprint of APW might just be my civic duty.”
Jubei takes another swing, this time, shattering the skeleton’s lower jaw.
”What do you wish to achieve from all these bad intentions? I’ve seen what happens when someone tries to use this platform to make themselves a god. It all comes crashing down like the failed bullet to Robespierre’s jaw… how fitting.”
He winds up, landing another skull splitting strike.
”You can only bring locust swarms so many times to the wrestling ring. Eventually, you have to evolve to meet the weekly demands of this game. No one cares if you fought Odin Balfore. The Allfather vacations slow months here on a legend’s bender. Irina and her stooges welcome muckrakers by the allure of ticket sales and their wrinkled visages on PPV marquees. What do you bring to APW besides disharmony? Does this floundering company really need more lawsuits and oversight restrictions? It barely survives off dangerous gambles. It only takes one lazy pallbearer to drop the casket. Keep that in mind while you stare into your fiendish nightlife, dreaming of how you’ll win this match. That’s all they are: clouded dreams.”
He adjusts the swiveling head to look back towards the camera.
”Everyone tried to be surprised when it all went wrong… especially for Jake Karnes. How else can we downplay F grade meat? I believe a story will suffice. His career fell to an abysmal depth. Why else would someone willingly sign under Vincent Pryde? There’s a steep learning curve to this business yet everyone still tries to cut corners. Shave off a few years, hoping no one notices. Jake fed from the deceiver’s hand only to find himself another clueless victim to his Nigerian prince of a handshake.
Pryde used homeless men—some of them World War veterans—for blood sport. People no one will miss after a brutal death match or hardcore minefield. However, you can only put on so many matches with “bums” before you run out of talent. Fans can only stomach the same carnage “X” number of times. After that point, you get creative with booking by filling the gaps with whomever meets these criteria: unloved, absentmindedness and an unquenchable dream for wrestling. I present you ‘The Revenant’ Jake Karnes!”
His hammer swings through the ribs into the chest cavity.
”Some men have all the heart this industry craves. Make people believe in the sappy side of our business. When the trials of learning this sport endears them to casual viewers. Natural charisma Hollywood has long minted into that ‘old rookie’ sob story. Except it doesn’t matter in the ring. People can believe in whatever side they want… only corner wins the match.
Some will point out that I passed him for opportunities when he tried to be a part of New Blood Wrestling. Yes, for being a terrible wrestler. Jake felt winded after running the ropes during warmups. Routine exercises even I can do at forty-seven! He persisted without improving his style or regimen. Some people let obsessions chip years off their lives. Jake even let a literal shot in the back—by Zion’s killer, well, the presumed murderer of Zion Simmons—push him forward. That’s unhealthy.
Eventually, these mistakes catch up to us. Everything Jake Karnes carries on his back is going to slow him down to the point where he can’t even walk. That’s a death sentence in the ring. Savages like James Nightingale will jump on that weakness. Masters like me also smell easy blood in the water. Jake might be the candid favorite for reality TV, but to me, he’s just deadweight.”
Jubei steps into a full swing that goes under the ribcage, exploding the plastic spine into thousands of random shards. Masuda breathes heavy over his handiwork before dropping the hammer. A different shot hovers over his shoulder, an overview of the chaos beside his slanted profile.
”If the entire body cannot withstand the pressure. If one part can’t do its job… catastrophic systemic failure. Take these bones as a reminder that we are but fragile pieces. When I went to Tokyo last summer, I never expected to be beaten within in an inch of my life. All I knew was APW needed a beacon. Someone to prove that we weren’t trying to jump into the spotlight. We came to steal it! And so we did, gambling on my ties to Tokyo back from my youth. Fighters always feel welcome returning home. So I rolled on that feeling. Then I busted. Lost everything in a bloody pulp.
Where are the men like James Nightingale in the story? They get an “unsafe” label for the rest of their career. Victims like Jake Karnes get the gift of free press and cheers no matter how he fares in APW. What do I get from these greedy, entitled brats: Nothing! They spit on me. The same man whose near-death experience made the world see Alpha Pro-Wrestling for the first time. Who lured talent from our biggest competitors on the promise of “easy” championships. Now that I’ve returned—where’s my purple carpet? I never lost the World Title. Where’s my shot? I deserve respect!”
His laughter cuts back to a frontal shot of the carnage and his grim visage.
”This company realizes what I’m made of, and what I’ll do if given the same power I held before that night in Tokyo. Sunday marks a three-pronged attack at my career. First, they want to see this unhinged lunatic get his hands on me. A talented wrestler whose bloodlust only makes him mindlessly dangerous. An obstacle meant to pressure me into retirement.
Likewise, they want me to consider retirement by placing me in matches against the likes of Jake Karnes. A career high for someone his fellow talent used to call a laughing idiot. Boredom sets in early, begging me to get sloppy. To make a mistake that could be career ending at forty-seven. You already saw it. Bones are fragile, and at my age, they’ll never get any stronger.
Fighting these misfits also means I’m not where I belong on the card. James maxes out upper-mid while Jake will never reach this high ever again. He’s had almost two decades to learn the system. I don’t see him improving his stock in just three weeks. Just another threat to my legacy… but that stops here. No more useless tag teams. No more surprise matches. No more mistakes. Kingdom Come, I will leave the ring another step closer to reclaiming what’s rightfully mine… osāma bansai.”
He walks into the background with all but one set of lights to illuminate the skeleton. A door closes out of sight. Moments later, the entire model falls off its wooden support into tatters.
Masuda and Jason Zurra have since reconvened in an adjacent room far from the reaches of Jubei’s muscle. They share piping hot cups of green tea around a small table. Industrial framework surrounds them in what appears to be a construction site.
Zurra: You know this is very last thing I’m doing for you. Your methods almost got me fired last year. Now, god, I don’t even know why I keep entertaining thoughts with you, Jubei. These talks never end well.
Jubei: Maybe you need to be more open to the opportunities I can create for you.
Zurra: Name one.
Masuda puts his cup down with the sweetness of nightshade.
Jubei: You’re ungrateful… but that’s to be expected from an usurper. I’ve forgiven you for all the things you did to swindle me out of the business. Even if you did so without malice—they affected my business.
Zurra: What business? You talk me into circles. And you haven’t stopped talking about Zion Simmons.
The Master’s features darken.
Jubei: I want Jake Karnes because he’s been talking to this investigator. She was a gesture of good faith by my people through an independent party. Someone with no stake in the Zion investigation. Yet she persists with the evidence collected by her collective bargaining, leaving no stone unturned.
Zurra: Didn’t they arrest that rehab cyclist? What was his name?
Jubei: Police have all the evidence connecting Cassidy Kaine to the murder. Yet this “Madame V” fancies herself a true crime hero. Now she’s asking for independent information my company only released to the police. We’re not at fault. Everyone questioned had alibies; or like me, they were out of the country. She thinks there’s something hidden. A conspiracy theory involving my company and our swift enrapture of Zion’s assets. We were on the board. We had majority shares. We’re not criminals.
Jason takes a long, incredulous sip from his teacup.
Zurra: Who are you trying to convince? Because if it’s me… you’ll have to try harder.
Jubei: I don’t need your approval. Just a match with Jake Karnes. So then I can make an impression.
Zurra: Brainwash him?
Jubei: No, but if he gets the story from that PI... he’ll never give my side a chance. I’m putting out fires before they start, Zurra. Now make the match.
Zurra: I’ll see what I can do. But if there’s anything going on here unrelated to the PPV. I’m not swerving for you, Jubei. In fact… I’d rather watch you burn in hell.
Jubei: That’s more like it. Now make the goddamn call.
