Post by Jubei on Jul 19, 2020 5:36:37 GMT -5
A shot opens to someone unlike the places usually associated with the Master Masuda Jubei, as we see him in a humanly form dressed out of the dress whites and blacks associated with him. A simple tracksuit with his Masuda Allied Technologies logo dignifies him before the camera. His spot—a simple place in nature with a stream flowing at his feet—begs to question if the same man is taking his spotlight. Then camera comes in for a close-up.
”One day, I knew we have to be human again. One day, when time rang my bell, there would be enough time to make myself presentable to you, the fans, of Alpha Pro-Wrestling. Instead, I’m forced to use my greatness as a token of war against a man undeserving of praise or accolades. Someone I never thought to face when I first entered the blue ropes of APW. The same man bent of destroying my legacy. And that I cannot watch burn away like sacred ashes. I cannot stand for that.
Steven Osbourne is the most deceptive man on the entire roster. He preaches from the soul and conducts from his penis, all in the hopes you’ll laugh at him. Laugh along on a straight to CD, VHS feature found in local pharmacies. I come bearing the last ounce of my competitive soul because only with that small token in the scheme of APW—only then can I hope to destroy his lubricated paw print on our business. I don’t take that job lightly either. Hence why the only way to destroy him is ante with my entire career. Only then can I assure him absolute destruction.”
Jubei takes a long breath with the serenity of that placid stream. It could be anywhere in the world, judging from its temperate setting, but most assume it someone close to his native Yokohama. Where else could a man be one-on-one with his own mortality and purpose in the world.
”I am not here to plead for your attention should Steven Osbourne prevail. No. I’m promising you that I will die before that man finds a way to ruin my life ever again. His carte blanche routine deceives us all into giving him the respect of a genius. Instead, you get the elegance of a child pretending to be something ripped from pulpy novel in the bargain bin.
I came to APW knowing that its leadership was weak. That their finances would struggle to put business before the same bottom lines spackling its delicate bricks together. Something Osbourne has exploited since day one, in route to becoming your North American Champion. How sickening.”
White clouds flutter overhead. When about fifteen men dressed for no good appear with a giant mailbags. Two-by-two, the pour letters and packages onto the ground. A few of those appear to be postcards, which makes many of them become like the wind and scamper from sight.
”I have been accused in the past of never listened to the fans. Being “evil” for the sake of it. Pretending to hate all things wrestling in a ploy to make others underestimate everything I would do in the ring to preserve our sport’s integrity. The honor of it weekly competitions now rests in younger hands. I, however, can still take out one last patch of mold growing off APW’s success.
These letters comprise my ever-growing list of enemies. Those whom I consider challengers to my ideals. People I strive every week to defy with every move I make in the ring. Whether that means nearly crippling a star talent like Nyeo Son so many months ago. Maybe it means embarrassing that sorry excuse of an administrator, my dearest Jason Zurra, and exposing his ineptitude before millions. Either way, I am the warrior this company needs. One day… you’ll regret trying to push me away. When slushing overlord of this sport take notice and reap all its benefits. Only then will you miss my brutality.
It’s a tale as old as time: One evil created to stop even greater ones from attacking the weak. Ancient Cantonese foretells of this in their Romance of the Three Kingdoms, a story retold in its painstaking entirety from prefect to magistrate to everyone named “Zhang” or “Zhou” from start to finish. There’s nothing novel about my struggles. It’s simply the same warrior’s burden to keep his homeland safe at the expense of kindness, fellowship and love. I will watch everything burn before I allow Steven Osbourne to prosper any further from its lifeblood. That’s my promise to you.”
He cuts off the camera crew and everyone goes from the production set. Jubei then goes into a trailer so he can change into something befitting his traditional motif, a black haori with his family insignia shown by small, golden icons imprinted along its silk fibers. Peace at last until he senses someone in a nearby corner record his every move. Jubei turns to see that Madame V, detective for the Zion Simmons murder, watching him from the comfort a couch.
Jubei: You’ve some nerve showing your face here.
Madame V: Maybe, or maybe it’s because you know how close I am to proving you put an innocent man in jail.
Jubei: Jail? He murdered a tech billionaire because Zion wouldn’t lower himself to be a part of a derelict wrestling promotion under the watchful eye of Vincent Pryde. Am I on the same planet or not?
Madame V: You neglected to mention one thing: You once employed—
Jubei: My companies have employed near a hundred thousand people other the years. You can’t expect someone of my prestige and wealth never to cross paths with baby emperors like Mr. Pryde.
She sips from a cup of tea.
Madame V: As I suspected you might say. One failure after another, shined with the same dirty chamois.
Jubei: Says you. Your entire existence weighs on guesses. Conjecture you build after months of playing Dick Tracy in a world that already found its culprit. You dig and you dream, hoping to uncover a “true crime” conspiracy to commit premeditated murder in the 1st degree. All you need are podcast soldiers and one target they’d be willing to investigate from birth to death in the vain search of something incriminating.
Madame V: Is that a confession? Or another sidestep pretending to be at peace with what you with the Yakuza.
Jubei laughs for a few long seconds.
Madame V: You can keep this façade going, but sooner or later, these people will find out the truth.
Jubei: You think that pushing my buttons will make me walk over to you.
Madame V: Don’t come any closer.
Masuda walks menacingly in her direction.
Madame V: I’m warning you, I have mace.
Jubei: And you’re trespassing on a closed set. Who’s the villain here, V?
Madame V: I know what you’re capable of Jubei.
Jubei: You call me Yakuza! Me! Chairman of a Fortune 500 Company spanning every tech sector in the world from New York to Silicon Valley to Japan and Southeast Asia. I am not what you want me to be, Madame V, and that’s the sort of disappointment you’ll have to get used to… am I clear?
She puts down her Japanese style teacup, but Masuda gets even closer until they’re only a couple feet apart with only furniture keeping the gap between them.
Jubei: I am not Yakuza. See! I am not a prefect soldier. I admit that every week. If were one of those thugs, do you think my hands would look like this? No! My bullheaded approach to business would have cost me several digits by now.
Madame V: Then what about Daisuke Shoda? He’s been arrested for anti-racketeering laws several times.
Jubei: We’re not here to discuss my business portfolio though, Madame V, we are here because you want me to lean in….
Madame V: Stop that!
Jubei: And slip telling you in my own words that I murdered Zion Simmons. And that I enjoyed it.
Madame V: Stop!
Jubei: Fine… but give up this exhaustive search. And if I ever see you on my property again, I’m going to prosecute you to the fullest extent of the law. No if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to relax before my flight back to America. It’s a long, harrowing process. I don’t need you ruining my meditation.
She takes a hint, departing with all of her personal effects. When Jubei grabs her arm halfway to the door.
Jubei: I’m capable of things worse than murder. Don’t cross me every again… are we clear.
Madame V: Yes.
Jubei: Good. Now get the fuck the out of my life. And don’t ever come back.
”Entry 507… Masuda Jubei has threatened my life. He knows I’m going to uncover the truth… wait! Stop! Get your hands off of me! … Show me your badge! Show me a badge! … You can’t do this! You’re not police! I demand council and release this instant! … I am not the criminal! Jubei is! And I can prove it! … No! No! ...
Blam! Blam! Blam! … Blam - Blam!”
”One day, I knew we have to be human again. One day, when time rang my bell, there would be enough time to make myself presentable to you, the fans, of Alpha Pro-Wrestling. Instead, I’m forced to use my greatness as a token of war against a man undeserving of praise or accolades. Someone I never thought to face when I first entered the blue ropes of APW. The same man bent of destroying my legacy. And that I cannot watch burn away like sacred ashes. I cannot stand for that.
Steven Osbourne is the most deceptive man on the entire roster. He preaches from the soul and conducts from his penis, all in the hopes you’ll laugh at him. Laugh along on a straight to CD, VHS feature found in local pharmacies. I come bearing the last ounce of my competitive soul because only with that small token in the scheme of APW—only then can I hope to destroy his lubricated paw print on our business. I don’t take that job lightly either. Hence why the only way to destroy him is ante with my entire career. Only then can I assure him absolute destruction.”
Jubei takes a long breath with the serenity of that placid stream. It could be anywhere in the world, judging from its temperate setting, but most assume it someone close to his native Yokohama. Where else could a man be one-on-one with his own mortality and purpose in the world.
”I am not here to plead for your attention should Steven Osbourne prevail. No. I’m promising you that I will die before that man finds a way to ruin my life ever again. His carte blanche routine deceives us all into giving him the respect of a genius. Instead, you get the elegance of a child pretending to be something ripped from pulpy novel in the bargain bin.
I came to APW knowing that its leadership was weak. That their finances would struggle to put business before the same bottom lines spackling its delicate bricks together. Something Osbourne has exploited since day one, in route to becoming your North American Champion. How sickening.”
White clouds flutter overhead. When about fifteen men dressed for no good appear with a giant mailbags. Two-by-two, the pour letters and packages onto the ground. A few of those appear to be postcards, which makes many of them become like the wind and scamper from sight.
”I have been accused in the past of never listened to the fans. Being “evil” for the sake of it. Pretending to hate all things wrestling in a ploy to make others underestimate everything I would do in the ring to preserve our sport’s integrity. The honor of it weekly competitions now rests in younger hands. I, however, can still take out one last patch of mold growing off APW’s success.
These letters comprise my ever-growing list of enemies. Those whom I consider challengers to my ideals. People I strive every week to defy with every move I make in the ring. Whether that means nearly crippling a star talent like Nyeo Son so many months ago. Maybe it means embarrassing that sorry excuse of an administrator, my dearest Jason Zurra, and exposing his ineptitude before millions. Either way, I am the warrior this company needs. One day… you’ll regret trying to push me away. When slushing overlord of this sport take notice and reap all its benefits. Only then will you miss my brutality.
It’s a tale as old as time: One evil created to stop even greater ones from attacking the weak. Ancient Cantonese foretells of this in their Romance of the Three Kingdoms, a story retold in its painstaking entirety from prefect to magistrate to everyone named “Zhang” or “Zhou” from start to finish. There’s nothing novel about my struggles. It’s simply the same warrior’s burden to keep his homeland safe at the expense of kindness, fellowship and love. I will watch everything burn before I allow Steven Osbourne to prosper any further from its lifeblood. That’s my promise to you.”
He cuts off the camera crew and everyone goes from the production set. Jubei then goes into a trailer so he can change into something befitting his traditional motif, a black haori with his family insignia shown by small, golden icons imprinted along its silk fibers. Peace at last until he senses someone in a nearby corner record his every move. Jubei turns to see that Madame V, detective for the Zion Simmons murder, watching him from the comfort a couch.
Jubei: You’ve some nerve showing your face here.
Madame V: Maybe, or maybe it’s because you know how close I am to proving you put an innocent man in jail.
Jubei: Jail? He murdered a tech billionaire because Zion wouldn’t lower himself to be a part of a derelict wrestling promotion under the watchful eye of Vincent Pryde. Am I on the same planet or not?
Madame V: You neglected to mention one thing: You once employed—
Jubei: My companies have employed near a hundred thousand people other the years. You can’t expect someone of my prestige and wealth never to cross paths with baby emperors like Mr. Pryde.
She sips from a cup of tea.
Madame V: As I suspected you might say. One failure after another, shined with the same dirty chamois.
Jubei: Says you. Your entire existence weighs on guesses. Conjecture you build after months of playing Dick Tracy in a world that already found its culprit. You dig and you dream, hoping to uncover a “true crime” conspiracy to commit premeditated murder in the 1st degree. All you need are podcast soldiers and one target they’d be willing to investigate from birth to death in the vain search of something incriminating.
Madame V: Is that a confession? Or another sidestep pretending to be at peace with what you with the Yakuza.
Jubei laughs for a few long seconds.
Madame V: You can keep this façade going, but sooner or later, these people will find out the truth.
Jubei: You think that pushing my buttons will make me walk over to you.
Madame V: Don’t come any closer.
Masuda walks menacingly in her direction.
Madame V: I’m warning you, I have mace.
Jubei: And you’re trespassing on a closed set. Who’s the villain here, V?
Madame V: I know what you’re capable of Jubei.
Jubei: You call me Yakuza! Me! Chairman of a Fortune 500 Company spanning every tech sector in the world from New York to Silicon Valley to Japan and Southeast Asia. I am not what you want me to be, Madame V, and that’s the sort of disappointment you’ll have to get used to… am I clear?
She puts down her Japanese style teacup, but Masuda gets even closer until they’re only a couple feet apart with only furniture keeping the gap between them.
Jubei: I am not Yakuza. See! I am not a prefect soldier. I admit that every week. If were one of those thugs, do you think my hands would look like this? No! My bullheaded approach to business would have cost me several digits by now.
Madame V: Then what about Daisuke Shoda? He’s been arrested for anti-racketeering laws several times.
Jubei: We’re not here to discuss my business portfolio though, Madame V, we are here because you want me to lean in….
Madame V: Stop that!
Jubei: And slip telling you in my own words that I murdered Zion Simmons. And that I enjoyed it.
Madame V: Stop!
Jubei: Fine… but give up this exhaustive search. And if I ever see you on my property again, I’m going to prosecute you to the fullest extent of the law. No if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to relax before my flight back to America. It’s a long, harrowing process. I don’t need you ruining my meditation.
She takes a hint, departing with all of her personal effects. When Jubei grabs her arm halfway to the door.
Jubei: I’m capable of things worse than murder. Don’t cross me every again… are we clear.
Madame V: Yes.
Jubei: Good. Now get the fuck the out of my life. And don’t ever come back.
”Entry 507… Masuda Jubei has threatened my life. He knows I’m going to uncover the truth… wait! Stop! Get your hands off of me! … Show me your badge! Show me a badge! … You can’t do this! You’re not police! I demand council and release this instant! … I am not the criminal! Jubei is! And I can prove it! … No! No! ...
Blam! Blam! Blam! … Blam - Blam!”
