Tournaments, Titles and Truths
Oct 20, 2019 22:42:43 GMT -5
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Post by Jaice Wilds on Oct 20, 2019 22:42:43 GMT -5
Wilds wraps his hands, preparing for battle. He hears an announcement; the Japanese announcers summoning the combatants to the field. Jaice steps out with 15 other men and women, looking about the arena. A familiar face is in the Masuda Corp box overlooking the festivities.
Allen Anderson:
Oh, fuck no!! He can NOT be in the running to...
Ikeda Clan Head:
Master Masuda specifically noted Mr Wilds in his invitations. Jaice belongs in that arena.
Anderson jumps out of his seat, scratching his head furiously.
Allen Anderson:
No!! Absolutely not! At least I followed Jubei and tried to further the Corp's reach...
The Ikeda Head raises a hand to quiet Allen, turning his attention back to the arena floor.
Ikeda Clan Head:
Our directive is to follow Master Jubei's will, not to question it.
Allen huffs, falling defeated into his seat as he watches the first round pair-offs. Wilds gazes up at the boards, finding his first round opponent and gazing over. He nods, taking a deep breath as he anticipates the rest of the first round brackets.
-------------------------
The following is a letter addressed to Steven Osbourne; intercepted and published to the Alpha Pro Wrestling website.
Sometimes, perseverance pays off. One does not always get what they want; however, the stars align themselves in ways that often still land in your favor.
Assuming, that is, that you are willing to make the most of your position.
Which is entirely what I have decided to do as of late, Mr. Osbourne. You see, I have garnered an opportunity to forward myself in Alpha Pro against you this week; that is obvious. But I have also been given the chance to further my standing in the world of corporate power as the result of a tragic passing. And much as the management of APW believes that I deserve the chance to prove what I am worth, so too does the late Masuda Jubei feel I deserve to further my station as a management figure outside the wrestling world.
And so, I stand before you a man of many faces. The Xtreme Aerialist; the innovator of hardcore lucha-style wrestling. The Final General; a tactical mastermind in a globally militant force. The Number One Contender; a headstrong combatant with the will to overcome. And a martial artist, poised to become the new head of a group of trained assassins looking for a new purpose.
Steven, I want you to understand something. I've watched you enough to understand your tactics. Your in-ring ability is mildly passable at best, if we're being honest. But you have a way of toying with your opponents' minds before a match that gives you an edge. It's admirable, Osbourne; nay, masterful strategy. In over a decade, I've seen that sort of game make and break careers. So I will give you props, good sir. Your cerebral attacks are something to be quite proud of.
Your only issue, Steven, is that I am not the common upstart looking to make my place in the business. I've faced your kind before, and your mind games fail to affect me as they do so many others. This is not to say I'm entirely immune to the occasional mind bending; rather, with proper understanding of the mental tricks one is prone to use, I am fully capable of avoiding the common pitfalls that so many others have tragically fallen prey to.
Hell, I enjoy playing my own mental games from time to time. Allow me to explain my strategy during a match, Osbourne: from the moment that bell rings, my mind is entirely removed from the task at hand, giving way to my baser instincts. As this occurs, a much more aggressive and self-preservative force takes over my body, and I become something akin to a feral beast. Some have managed to find their deeper instinct and counter mine; others have fallen victim to their own inability to find themselves participating in the moment. You're a strategist, Steven; and a rather successful one at that.
But in a battle where strategy is out the window and your foe is just as much a danger to himself as he is to you…
It's a scale that tips entirely against your favor, Osbourne. You will be prone to overthink every maneuver, every possible scenario of attack. And with my plan of attack being "make it up as I go along", it's going to be a long night for you. If you're lucky, you might have the wherewithal to counter one of my signature maneuvers when it comes up. But I would hazard to guess that, by the time that does happen, your physical exhaustion will be too much to overcome.
I wish you the best of luck, Steven. Honestly. I'm not worried about walking out with the Junior Heavyweight Title this week; I find myself simply concerned with your physical well-being. Because, in all reality? Win or lose, your chances of walking out of the arena of your own faculties is rather slim. And when a title is on the line… well, as I stated previously: I'm an animal. An unhinged beast. And I will destroy my own body if it means defeating you and bringing home my first APW strap.
I'll see you on Monday, Steve. Here's to hoping I leave enough for you to walk back in before HorrorKore.
------------------------
Bruised and battered, he grins. His hand is raised in victory as his foe lies in a bloody puddle at his feet. Jaice walks off the floor, heading for the recreational space. He unbinds his hands, washing his face. He grabs a towel, drying himself off.
Voice:
We need to talk.
Wilds cracks a huge grin, turning to face his brother, best friend and fellow General. Aaron, however, is not as jovial in his standing.
Jaice Wilds:
Simon! I was afraid you wouldn't make it. Did you see my…
Aaron cuts him off with a full open hand.
Aaron Simon Kalis:
You shouldn't be here. Neither of us should be. It isn't… safe.
Jaice is taken aback, Kalis' sudden concern for his well-being feeling a bit off.
Jaice Wilds:
I made it past the first round, Si. The next couple shouldn't be that bad…
Aaron Simon Kalis:
That's… not what I mean. There are bigger elements in play here, Jaice, and you...
An Ikeda Clan member passes through the area, Aaron doing his best to keep his identity hidden from the assassin. Jaice is entirely confused, shaking his head.
Jaice Wilds:
You're acting strange, Si. Look, Masuda has given me the chance to be my own man, the head of something greater…
Aaron Simon Kalis:
Jubei is the problem, Jaice! Look, the Ikeda Clan is… that is to say, Masuda...
Wilds huffs, shaking his head.
Jaice Wilds:
Y'know, I thought having a supplemental force in the Order would be a plus to you. But if you're just going to try and keep me from a position adjacent to your own, I don't need your newfound sense of jealousy.
Jaice pushes past Kalis, hurt. He starts heading towards the arena floor, before Aaron calls out.
Aaron Simon Kalis:
Masuda made you who you are! He… He took you from your home!
Wilds stops, pondering for a moment before turning his head a bit.
Jaice Wilds:
That's cutting deep, Si. You know about the poachers and…
Simon pulls a rather large manila envelope from his jacket, holding it up for Wilds. He slaps it on a bench nearby, Jaice cautiously turning around and starting over.
Aaron Simon Kalis:
He's been breeding you, Jay. Manipulating the majority of your life from the shadows. There's… you only know what he wanted you to know...
Wilds picks up the envelope, looking it over. He squints in a mix of disbelief and skepticism, staring at Kalis.
Jaice Wilds:
I've trusted you for a long time, Simon. But what you're suggesting…
Kalis places his right hand on Jaice's shoulder as he begins to make his way past, leaning over to whisper.
Aaron Simon Kalis:
They may have heard too much already. I'll be in the mobile unit if you need to ask any questions.
Jaice starts to protest, but Aaron swoops out of the room as though his very life depended upon it. Wilds looks at the folder, then quickly peeks around the rec area before sneaking into a side room…
Allen Anderson:
Oh, fuck no!! He can NOT be in the running to...
Ikeda Clan Head:
Master Masuda specifically noted Mr Wilds in his invitations. Jaice belongs in that arena.
Anderson jumps out of his seat, scratching his head furiously.
Allen Anderson:
No!! Absolutely not! At least I followed Jubei and tried to further the Corp's reach...
The Ikeda Head raises a hand to quiet Allen, turning his attention back to the arena floor.
Ikeda Clan Head:
Our directive is to follow Master Jubei's will, not to question it.
Allen huffs, falling defeated into his seat as he watches the first round pair-offs. Wilds gazes up at the boards, finding his first round opponent and gazing over. He nods, taking a deep breath as he anticipates the rest of the first round brackets.
-------------------------
The following is a letter addressed to Steven Osbourne; intercepted and published to the Alpha Pro Wrestling website.
Sometimes, perseverance pays off. One does not always get what they want; however, the stars align themselves in ways that often still land in your favor.
Assuming, that is, that you are willing to make the most of your position.
Which is entirely what I have decided to do as of late, Mr. Osbourne. You see, I have garnered an opportunity to forward myself in Alpha Pro against you this week; that is obvious. But I have also been given the chance to further my standing in the world of corporate power as the result of a tragic passing. And much as the management of APW believes that I deserve the chance to prove what I am worth, so too does the late Masuda Jubei feel I deserve to further my station as a management figure outside the wrestling world.
And so, I stand before you a man of many faces. The Xtreme Aerialist; the innovator of hardcore lucha-style wrestling. The Final General; a tactical mastermind in a globally militant force. The Number One Contender; a headstrong combatant with the will to overcome. And a martial artist, poised to become the new head of a group of trained assassins looking for a new purpose.
Steven, I want you to understand something. I've watched you enough to understand your tactics. Your in-ring ability is mildly passable at best, if we're being honest. But you have a way of toying with your opponents' minds before a match that gives you an edge. It's admirable, Osbourne; nay, masterful strategy. In over a decade, I've seen that sort of game make and break careers. So I will give you props, good sir. Your cerebral attacks are something to be quite proud of.
Your only issue, Steven, is that I am not the common upstart looking to make my place in the business. I've faced your kind before, and your mind games fail to affect me as they do so many others. This is not to say I'm entirely immune to the occasional mind bending; rather, with proper understanding of the mental tricks one is prone to use, I am fully capable of avoiding the common pitfalls that so many others have tragically fallen prey to.
Hell, I enjoy playing my own mental games from time to time. Allow me to explain my strategy during a match, Osbourne: from the moment that bell rings, my mind is entirely removed from the task at hand, giving way to my baser instincts. As this occurs, a much more aggressive and self-preservative force takes over my body, and I become something akin to a feral beast. Some have managed to find their deeper instinct and counter mine; others have fallen victim to their own inability to find themselves participating in the moment. You're a strategist, Steven; and a rather successful one at that.
But in a battle where strategy is out the window and your foe is just as much a danger to himself as he is to you…
It's a scale that tips entirely against your favor, Osbourne. You will be prone to overthink every maneuver, every possible scenario of attack. And with my plan of attack being "make it up as I go along", it's going to be a long night for you. If you're lucky, you might have the wherewithal to counter one of my signature maneuvers when it comes up. But I would hazard to guess that, by the time that does happen, your physical exhaustion will be too much to overcome.
I wish you the best of luck, Steven. Honestly. I'm not worried about walking out with the Junior Heavyweight Title this week; I find myself simply concerned with your physical well-being. Because, in all reality? Win or lose, your chances of walking out of the arena of your own faculties is rather slim. And when a title is on the line… well, as I stated previously: I'm an animal. An unhinged beast. And I will destroy my own body if it means defeating you and bringing home my first APW strap.
I'll see you on Monday, Steve. Here's to hoping I leave enough for you to walk back in before HorrorKore.
------------------------
Bruised and battered, he grins. His hand is raised in victory as his foe lies in a bloody puddle at his feet. Jaice walks off the floor, heading for the recreational space. He unbinds his hands, washing his face. He grabs a towel, drying himself off.
Voice:
We need to talk.
Wilds cracks a huge grin, turning to face his brother, best friend and fellow General. Aaron, however, is not as jovial in his standing.
Jaice Wilds:
Simon! I was afraid you wouldn't make it. Did you see my…
Aaron cuts him off with a full open hand.
Aaron Simon Kalis:
You shouldn't be here. Neither of us should be. It isn't… safe.
Jaice is taken aback, Kalis' sudden concern for his well-being feeling a bit off.
Jaice Wilds:
I made it past the first round, Si. The next couple shouldn't be that bad…
Aaron Simon Kalis:
That's… not what I mean. There are bigger elements in play here, Jaice, and you...
An Ikeda Clan member passes through the area, Aaron doing his best to keep his identity hidden from the assassin. Jaice is entirely confused, shaking his head.
Jaice Wilds:
You're acting strange, Si. Look, Masuda has given me the chance to be my own man, the head of something greater…
Aaron Simon Kalis:
Jubei is the problem, Jaice! Look, the Ikeda Clan is… that is to say, Masuda...
Wilds huffs, shaking his head.
Jaice Wilds:
Y'know, I thought having a supplemental force in the Order would be a plus to you. But if you're just going to try and keep me from a position adjacent to your own, I don't need your newfound sense of jealousy.
Jaice pushes past Kalis, hurt. He starts heading towards the arena floor, before Aaron calls out.
Aaron Simon Kalis:
Masuda made you who you are! He… He took you from your home!
Wilds stops, pondering for a moment before turning his head a bit.
Jaice Wilds:
That's cutting deep, Si. You know about the poachers and…
Simon pulls a rather large manila envelope from his jacket, holding it up for Wilds. He slaps it on a bench nearby, Jaice cautiously turning around and starting over.
Aaron Simon Kalis:
He's been breeding you, Jay. Manipulating the majority of your life from the shadows. There's… you only know what he wanted you to know...
Wilds picks up the envelope, looking it over. He squints in a mix of disbelief and skepticism, staring at Kalis.
Jaice Wilds:
I've trusted you for a long time, Simon. But what you're suggesting…
Kalis places his right hand on Jaice's shoulder as he begins to make his way past, leaning over to whisper.
Aaron Simon Kalis:
They may have heard too much already. I'll be in the mobile unit if you need to ask any questions.
Jaice starts to protest, but Aaron swoops out of the room as though his very life depended upon it. Wilds looks at the folder, then quickly peeks around the rec area before sneaking into a side room…
