Post by Jubei on Jun 20, 2020 3:41:51 GMT -5
Jubei and several men leave a Denny’s disguised in street clothes unbecoming of his usual appearance. His driver’s map places their current location about two hours from Lincoln—the upcoming destination for Monday Night Metal—when all of those around Jubei pile into his security entourage. Masuda’s matching APW sweat and hoodie masked him for the most part. Likewise when comparing himself to others around their last desperation stop for sustenance on the road to the state capital. He gets into the back with Mr. Shoda joining him moments later wearing the swear of his Gland Slam combo.
Jubei: You had one job.
Shoda: Please, Lady Nakajima won’t listen to me or the people I’ve sent to dissuade her outbursts. Also, she’s still upset about how you admonished her in front of the group.
Jubei: Admonished? I told the truth.
Shoda: You might have, Jubei-sama, but she’s vowed revenge.
Jubei: And that’s why she’s trying to limit my jet travel stateside? Because she’s that brittle?
Shoda folds his arms as if to say, “What else can I do?” while fielding The Master’s questions.
Jubei: Have your people monitor trade and stock sharing between her “sacred” accounts that neither me nor the Board are privy to. Get me that information, but leave the seeds of doubt to a professional.
Shoda: I understand… and what of that detective?
Jubei pulls his hood down.
Jubei: What else can we do but send her on goose chases? Distract her from all the work we’re trying to finish up with the estate of Zion Simmons. Who knew it would take this long to bleed a dead man dry?
Shoda: Not I.
Jubei: Keep Madame V and her comic book detective license out of our business. Oh… and did you drive her to the crime scene in Yokohama?
Shoda: Gave her everything from the incident, Jubei-sama.
Jubei: Good. We can’t have her trying to dig up more about that drug addict, Cassidy Kaine. It wasn’t easy getting him to the drop site or planting the evidence. Including help from that bastard Vincent Pryde. If only he could have been our fall guy… except that he updates social media too often to fact check.
Shoda takes a call as the car takes off down a strip of chain restaurants, salons and body shops.
Jubei: Everything went according plan until he showed at the door of Jake Karnes. That little Jesus wannabe whose entire purpose in life if getting people to forgive his mistakes.
Shoda holds back his cellphone.
Shoda: It’s Fumio. He wants to know when he drop off your dry cleaning.
Jubei waves that off.
Shoda: Get it ASAP, Fumio-chan. And don’t forget to leave a big tip. COVID hit them too.
Jubei: Alpha doesn’t get the message. I’m not here because they told me contracted me for obligated dates. Time away from ring taught me a newfound respect for what I can do inside those ropes. I’ve already drawn my line in the sand. Bulletproof is my proving ground. We take nothing else for granted. One side to me says that a return of Ikeda Clan could make the same point. Yet something in my warrior heart says that I need to best everyone—including Steven Osbourne.
Shoda: How much did it cost to get that service blackout on Netflix?
Jubei: More stock than I wanted to share early into the rebuild. TV is one thing. But this is streaming television. I had to work multiple personnel to have footage destroyed over the internet. Even then, it still broadcast in mainland Japan and the South China Sea. I can’t be this careless anymore.
Shoda: You’re still in better shape than many of my new recruits.
Jubei: They’re not sharp witted yet. But these bones will be forty-eight by the end of summer. Even if Jayson Price took a take for covering my death in Tokyo… he still landed those punches. Flames searing my back from a burning table.
Shoda: And the piranha fish.
Jubei: Smile. Then try explaining four hundred bite marks across your body…. My last obstacle will be my greatest yet towards restoring the natural order. It’s always been Tokyo. There’s no one on the roster that can stop me when I really want something. I took Osbourne for a fool. Next time, I’ll break every bone in his body. And if Irina or that smarmy Jason Zurra thinks I’m going to keep rank. This week will be my declaration of war on this wrestling orb that believes it has a stake across the globe. Netflix bought their lies. By the time I’ve finished dismantling the roster, they’ll wish I never came back.
”Greetings APW… today’s format won’t be to the likes of my usual production. As is the sorry state of Nebraska, and all of its corn-fed neighbors, I didn’t have time to arrange a production company. This week we’re doing this in podcast format. I know many of you are feeling giddy already… well you shouldn’t. As we inch closer to Bulletproof, APW has many uncertain questions in its gut:
• Is Jason Ryan worthy of the belt? He shows us a “good time”. He acts like a champion. Handles press like a winner. Although the entire roster tastes his blood in the water.
• Your insurgent tag team, those Man Made Gods, continue to hold your favorite company’s gold while debuting across the world on other programs. Are you really their first choice?
• And what of me, the man everyone thought had died? Am I for real or another failed comeback?
That would be the concept for a wrestling podcast. I’m not going to give you that timewaster for your morning 4k loop. Nor something to lessen the blow of miles on a treadmill. I am here from the ether to make one thing clear about Bulletproof. I am a son of Yokohama and loyal public servant whose work in the community comes with high regard. Money does not make a man. It only improves his platform for meaningful change.
I’ve been known in the past to take my vision of reform too far for comfort. Rest assured that your favorite promotion will remain the Black and Blue of your dreams. But start getting used to my name by mouth and by banner. Because the only way to make APW a haven for wrestling is for a leader at the top. We won’t follow a child into battle whose need to be seen surpasses his better instincts. Nor approve of any little emperor granting nepotism to his closest allies. Once I am your champion… all this doubt goes away. Tokyo will be my proving ground. Get used to that phrase because this is not a warning shot into the South China Sea. No. I am Masuda Jubei, and soon, I will be your King again.”
There’s a long pause on his side with the sound of a car on the highway. Another voice dampens into the background when his voice returns in full.
”This week will be of no exception to the message I have delivered today. In my infinite wisdom as you first World Champion. Whose name and vacated honor will never diminish all that I did to make APW a better company. I brought revenue with the aforementioned Braxton Locus, before unceremoniously kicking him off my mountain. Then I began the torment of Smith Jones to prove he was neither the leader you wanted nor needed. Now I have the task of dismantling yet another false prophet occupying my throne.
My message for everyone today is not only a base line of coming attractions. No, APW, you deserve some context and a fair dose of redemption. Allow me to introduce a few concepts that will not only return this company to its former glory, but even lift up all the lost dreamers listening right now. Yes… you’re not invisible, disparaged audience. I hear your hapless breaths through time. Let’s begin.”
Shamisen music plays from a background source.
”This week is a lesson in success. First, I want to invite my opponents America Jackson and Sarah Lacklan to listen as well… for the lessons of your elders will benefit you in the future. There’s so much young, enterprising talent on the roster that I feel everyone from Spartan to even that L Verez could learn a how to be a better competitor. Others will learn the values of being a champion.
Let’s begin with Sarah. That bright little star burning brighter than most of these slobbering idiots below the midcard line. Her quirky use of social media sets her apart from the rest. She also tells everyone that she’s a student of the game. Well you came to the right place, and to your fortunes, it also means a match with the true embodiment of wrestling in APW.
Being a student of the game… you’ll realize that what separates me from the riffraff is that I never polarize my intentions. I set out to do something and crush any opposition. That translates back into my style from heart-stopping chops to the only feared piledriver in this company. Unlike Smith Jones, however, I don’t need to prove or flaunt my moves. Every man that has taken it no longer works for APW. Correlate that. You also should have noted that I broke Nyeo Son’s back because he thought Twitter was a toy. He won the match, but I had no intention of letting him leave that cage on two feet.
You came a lesson to run roughshod on us while “chill-axing” with your BFF. What you don’t seem to understand about many of us in the ring, is that our best moments are in that ring, making all of this noise and nonchalant treatment of the rest of our roster moot. I apply happiness to my workplace… waiting for the moment to crush yet another child’s dreams.
Although you remind me of the modern world. Success out of the ring should also be inclusive, valuing the viewpoints of women, men and those fluidly between them. Staffers used to pack my office with sons of the same men that lied through their teeth generations before them. You remind me of that flawed hiring practice. My advice is to open yourself to all knowledge. Even if it comes from me. Nothing learned can hurt you—only what you ignore will be the bane of tomorrow’s hindsight.”
A slow, surging interlude gives him a moment to recharge.
”America… if that is your name. You have such a strong face. One of those Nordic jawlines built for taking punches. I’m worried for you, honestly. I see so much of my old self in what you’re trying to do here in APW. Troops on the ground. An entourage designed for disruption. You do realize that every soldier dreams of being the general. It never occurs to them that some positions never open. Yet they harbor that dream until it goes deferred so long they forget orders, and eventually, revolt. I had my own army once. Not that I couldn’t draft my own in a week to meet your boss’s… that’s not the point. Zaigon is the lynchpin to everything you desire. He knows how to control people—because I mastered the concept ages ago. And you, Mr. Jackson, are a textbook example.
Your road to success goes off his GPS. Zaigon wants to be on top, and he will abandon you to get there. I would. APW is not a career destination. It’s convalescence. Your boss can bankroll a dream, but he’ll never insure your future. I won't buy stock in the Storm until I see you take on what's really ailing this company. Until then we should relegate your successes from achievements into a smaller category of unremarkable losses. Zaigon doesn't care about you anyways. Although I'm sure your wool covered eyes would tell me different.
Why am being so harsh on you, one of the new rising talents of APW? Because dreamers aren’t profitable. They're a huge risk financially. Millennial daydream machines like you, on the other hand--heifers they cut and divide into Kobe beef--they’ll dip Melba toast in your bone marrow! Welcome to America… the heart of it all! Where monsters like me employ mindless drones to fight our battles. Not because we can’t—Zaigon and I can hold out own in the ring—but because there’s cannon fodder happy to absorb artillery. My point is that if you continue down this road for Mr. Carter, you can only expect heartache. So abandon him and do what your little heart desires. Children don’t belong in hell with men like me.”
The music slows to a crawl.
”These are lessons to help both of you improve as you work way towards Bulletproof. Many will fire their shots at the top, but only ruthless competitors like me are going to hit their mark. You both have too much to learn before our Monday matchup. I’m not convinced either you will be half-ready by then. So heed my words. There’s nothing getting between Tokyo and me… Osāma bansai.”
Jubei: Do you ever stop to realize that young people think they have all the answers? Then old people tell them they don’t. Except that we, their elders, have no idea how to solve their new problems.
Shoda: Yes.
Jubei: Good… I’m not in the business of fixing their issues. Only telling them to grow up and pay attention. Life is a train you cannot doge, outrun or derail. You do great things until it runs you over.
Shoda: What about near death?
Jubei: That’s like getting caught under the wheels. Sure, some inspire because they hold on for long, long time. Or they recover from past mistakes. But make no mistake: We all get run over in the end.
Shoda: Is it at least a nice train?
Jubei: Of course! In fact, it’s so nice we never get to board it. Only disintegrate under its wheels.
Shoda: What if it’s a hovering magnet train?
Jubei: Enough. You get you point. There’s no sidesteps from fate. We face it with courage or fear until our time has come to expire for good. APW is no different. It will taunt these fans with show after show, expecting them to buy that anyone besides me exit Tokyo as the best in APW. I will come with righteous fury. It will be swift and painful, and come Monday, examples will be made.
Shoda: So you’ve been the train all along?
Jubei: Yes, the best of all trains.
They share in a sinister laugh.
Jubei: You had one job.
Shoda: Please, Lady Nakajima won’t listen to me or the people I’ve sent to dissuade her outbursts. Also, she’s still upset about how you admonished her in front of the group.
Jubei: Admonished? I told the truth.
Shoda: You might have, Jubei-sama, but she’s vowed revenge.
Jubei: And that’s why she’s trying to limit my jet travel stateside? Because she’s that brittle?
Shoda folds his arms as if to say, “What else can I do?” while fielding The Master’s questions.
Jubei: Have your people monitor trade and stock sharing between her “sacred” accounts that neither me nor the Board are privy to. Get me that information, but leave the seeds of doubt to a professional.
Shoda: I understand… and what of that detective?
Jubei pulls his hood down.
Jubei: What else can we do but send her on goose chases? Distract her from all the work we’re trying to finish up with the estate of Zion Simmons. Who knew it would take this long to bleed a dead man dry?
Shoda: Not I.
Jubei: Keep Madame V and her comic book detective license out of our business. Oh… and did you drive her to the crime scene in Yokohama?
Shoda: Gave her everything from the incident, Jubei-sama.
Jubei: Good. We can’t have her trying to dig up more about that drug addict, Cassidy Kaine. It wasn’t easy getting him to the drop site or planting the evidence. Including help from that bastard Vincent Pryde. If only he could have been our fall guy… except that he updates social media too often to fact check.
Shoda takes a call as the car takes off down a strip of chain restaurants, salons and body shops.
Jubei: Everything went according plan until he showed at the door of Jake Karnes. That little Jesus wannabe whose entire purpose in life if getting people to forgive his mistakes.
Shoda holds back his cellphone.
Shoda: It’s Fumio. He wants to know when he drop off your dry cleaning.
Jubei waves that off.
Shoda: Get it ASAP, Fumio-chan. And don’t forget to leave a big tip. COVID hit them too.
Jubei: Alpha doesn’t get the message. I’m not here because they told me contracted me for obligated dates. Time away from ring taught me a newfound respect for what I can do inside those ropes. I’ve already drawn my line in the sand. Bulletproof is my proving ground. We take nothing else for granted. One side to me says that a return of Ikeda Clan could make the same point. Yet something in my warrior heart says that I need to best everyone—including Steven Osbourne.
Shoda: How much did it cost to get that service blackout on Netflix?
Jubei: More stock than I wanted to share early into the rebuild. TV is one thing. But this is streaming television. I had to work multiple personnel to have footage destroyed over the internet. Even then, it still broadcast in mainland Japan and the South China Sea. I can’t be this careless anymore.
Shoda: You’re still in better shape than many of my new recruits.
Jubei: They’re not sharp witted yet. But these bones will be forty-eight by the end of summer. Even if Jayson Price took a take for covering my death in Tokyo… he still landed those punches. Flames searing my back from a burning table.
Shoda: And the piranha fish.
Jubei: Smile. Then try explaining four hundred bite marks across your body…. My last obstacle will be my greatest yet towards restoring the natural order. It’s always been Tokyo. There’s no one on the roster that can stop me when I really want something. I took Osbourne for a fool. Next time, I’ll break every bone in his body. And if Irina or that smarmy Jason Zurra thinks I’m going to keep rank. This week will be my declaration of war on this wrestling orb that believes it has a stake across the globe. Netflix bought their lies. By the time I’ve finished dismantling the roster, they’ll wish I never came back.
”Greetings APW… today’s format won’t be to the likes of my usual production. As is the sorry state of Nebraska, and all of its corn-fed neighbors, I didn’t have time to arrange a production company. This week we’re doing this in podcast format. I know many of you are feeling giddy already… well you shouldn’t. As we inch closer to Bulletproof, APW has many uncertain questions in its gut:
• Is Jason Ryan worthy of the belt? He shows us a “good time”. He acts like a champion. Handles press like a winner. Although the entire roster tastes his blood in the water.
• Your insurgent tag team, those Man Made Gods, continue to hold your favorite company’s gold while debuting across the world on other programs. Are you really their first choice?
• And what of me, the man everyone thought had died? Am I for real or another failed comeback?
That would be the concept for a wrestling podcast. I’m not going to give you that timewaster for your morning 4k loop. Nor something to lessen the blow of miles on a treadmill. I am here from the ether to make one thing clear about Bulletproof. I am a son of Yokohama and loyal public servant whose work in the community comes with high regard. Money does not make a man. It only improves his platform for meaningful change.
I’ve been known in the past to take my vision of reform too far for comfort. Rest assured that your favorite promotion will remain the Black and Blue of your dreams. But start getting used to my name by mouth and by banner. Because the only way to make APW a haven for wrestling is for a leader at the top. We won’t follow a child into battle whose need to be seen surpasses his better instincts. Nor approve of any little emperor granting nepotism to his closest allies. Once I am your champion… all this doubt goes away. Tokyo will be my proving ground. Get used to that phrase because this is not a warning shot into the South China Sea. No. I am Masuda Jubei, and soon, I will be your King again.”
There’s a long pause on his side with the sound of a car on the highway. Another voice dampens into the background when his voice returns in full.
”This week will be of no exception to the message I have delivered today. In my infinite wisdom as you first World Champion. Whose name and vacated honor will never diminish all that I did to make APW a better company. I brought revenue with the aforementioned Braxton Locus, before unceremoniously kicking him off my mountain. Then I began the torment of Smith Jones to prove he was neither the leader you wanted nor needed. Now I have the task of dismantling yet another false prophet occupying my throne.
My message for everyone today is not only a base line of coming attractions. No, APW, you deserve some context and a fair dose of redemption. Allow me to introduce a few concepts that will not only return this company to its former glory, but even lift up all the lost dreamers listening right now. Yes… you’re not invisible, disparaged audience. I hear your hapless breaths through time. Let’s begin.”
Shamisen music plays from a background source.
”This week is a lesson in success. First, I want to invite my opponents America Jackson and Sarah Lacklan to listen as well… for the lessons of your elders will benefit you in the future. There’s so much young, enterprising talent on the roster that I feel everyone from Spartan to even that L Verez could learn a how to be a better competitor. Others will learn the values of being a champion.
Let’s begin with Sarah. That bright little star burning brighter than most of these slobbering idiots below the midcard line. Her quirky use of social media sets her apart from the rest. She also tells everyone that she’s a student of the game. Well you came to the right place, and to your fortunes, it also means a match with the true embodiment of wrestling in APW.
Being a student of the game… you’ll realize that what separates me from the riffraff is that I never polarize my intentions. I set out to do something and crush any opposition. That translates back into my style from heart-stopping chops to the only feared piledriver in this company. Unlike Smith Jones, however, I don’t need to prove or flaunt my moves. Every man that has taken it no longer works for APW. Correlate that. You also should have noted that I broke Nyeo Son’s back because he thought Twitter was a toy. He won the match, but I had no intention of letting him leave that cage on two feet.
You came a lesson to run roughshod on us while “chill-axing” with your BFF. What you don’t seem to understand about many of us in the ring, is that our best moments are in that ring, making all of this noise and nonchalant treatment of the rest of our roster moot. I apply happiness to my workplace… waiting for the moment to crush yet another child’s dreams.
Although you remind me of the modern world. Success out of the ring should also be inclusive, valuing the viewpoints of women, men and those fluidly between them. Staffers used to pack my office with sons of the same men that lied through their teeth generations before them. You remind me of that flawed hiring practice. My advice is to open yourself to all knowledge. Even if it comes from me. Nothing learned can hurt you—only what you ignore will be the bane of tomorrow’s hindsight.”
A slow, surging interlude gives him a moment to recharge.
”America… if that is your name. You have such a strong face. One of those Nordic jawlines built for taking punches. I’m worried for you, honestly. I see so much of my old self in what you’re trying to do here in APW. Troops on the ground. An entourage designed for disruption. You do realize that every soldier dreams of being the general. It never occurs to them that some positions never open. Yet they harbor that dream until it goes deferred so long they forget orders, and eventually, revolt. I had my own army once. Not that I couldn’t draft my own in a week to meet your boss’s… that’s not the point. Zaigon is the lynchpin to everything you desire. He knows how to control people—because I mastered the concept ages ago. And you, Mr. Jackson, are a textbook example.
Your road to success goes off his GPS. Zaigon wants to be on top, and he will abandon you to get there. I would. APW is not a career destination. It’s convalescence. Your boss can bankroll a dream, but he’ll never insure your future. I won't buy stock in the Storm until I see you take on what's really ailing this company. Until then we should relegate your successes from achievements into a smaller category of unremarkable losses. Zaigon doesn't care about you anyways. Although I'm sure your wool covered eyes would tell me different.
Why am being so harsh on you, one of the new rising talents of APW? Because dreamers aren’t profitable. They're a huge risk financially. Millennial daydream machines like you, on the other hand--heifers they cut and divide into Kobe beef--they’ll dip Melba toast in your bone marrow! Welcome to America… the heart of it all! Where monsters like me employ mindless drones to fight our battles. Not because we can’t—Zaigon and I can hold out own in the ring—but because there’s cannon fodder happy to absorb artillery. My point is that if you continue down this road for Mr. Carter, you can only expect heartache. So abandon him and do what your little heart desires. Children don’t belong in hell with men like me.”
The music slows to a crawl.
”These are lessons to help both of you improve as you work way towards Bulletproof. Many will fire their shots at the top, but only ruthless competitors like me are going to hit their mark. You both have too much to learn before our Monday matchup. I’m not convinced either you will be half-ready by then. So heed my words. There’s nothing getting between Tokyo and me… Osāma bansai.”
Jubei: Do you ever stop to realize that young people think they have all the answers? Then old people tell them they don’t. Except that we, their elders, have no idea how to solve their new problems.
Shoda: Yes.
Jubei: Good… I’m not in the business of fixing their issues. Only telling them to grow up and pay attention. Life is a train you cannot doge, outrun or derail. You do great things until it runs you over.
Shoda: What about near death?
Jubei: That’s like getting caught under the wheels. Sure, some inspire because they hold on for long, long time. Or they recover from past mistakes. But make no mistake: We all get run over in the end.
Shoda: Is it at least a nice train?
Jubei: Of course! In fact, it’s so nice we never get to board it. Only disintegrate under its wheels.
Shoda: What if it’s a hovering magnet train?
Jubei: Enough. You get you point. There’s no sidesteps from fate. We face it with courage or fear until our time has come to expire for good. APW is no different. It will taunt these fans with show after show, expecting them to buy that anyone besides me exit Tokyo as the best in APW. I will come with righteous fury. It will be swift and painful, and come Monday, examples will be made.
Shoda: So you’ve been the train all along?
Jubei: Yes, the best of all trains.
They share in a sinister laugh.
