Post by Deleted on Apr 23, 2016 15:05:16 GMT
We are taken to the Japan’s largest city – Tokyo. The camera man displays the Japanese architecture once he has a couple of small structures on sight. The decorations are kept to a minimum and the roofs, mostly, look impressive. One of the buildings is now focused; above the entrance’s door a sign that shows Kanjis, the translation pops up next to it, which reads “Dojo”.
Next, the camera pans inside the building. We see two men standing at the center of room. They are both wearing flawless kimonos; one is all-white while the other is all-black.
The all-black man advances toward the opponent delivering multiple kicks. Most of them are blocked; however, the person seems to be having a hard time doing so. Finally, he attempts some attacks himself only to be countered. Then, he receives a stiff kick to the abdomen which causes him to move a couple of steps back.
Once the camera man positions himself in a better angle, we notice that the man who's taking a beating is NJFC's own – Vincent Strassburg. His face expression suggests that he is frustrated & angered.
“Chūi!”
The Japanese word that stands for “attention” surely bothered Vincent, whom runs toward the sensei and attempts a flying knee, which is clearly dodged.
“Amarini mo mubō. No reckless!”
The last words are enough for Vincent’s anger to grow to a boiling point. The man actually embraces the sensei tightly and delivers a devastating belly-to-belly Suplex. Then, he quickly proceeds to take off the top of his kimono.
“We are done here. I fuckin’ told you to stop speaking in Japanese... Get outta here.”
The sensei shakes his head in disappointment as he gathers himself up. He tightens up his black belt before his next speech.
“You lack Shizukesa. Serenity. Need more… You need peace in heart if you want to learn the pure art. Osu!”
He bows to Vincent, whom takes a couple of seconds to bow back as a sign of respect. Then, the sensei goes to a small room in the back, leaving Vincent alone to recompose himself. He turns his back to the camera and drops the kimono’s upper attire on the floor. We can see the huge dragon tattoo on his back, covered by two scars that go from the top of his neck to the waist.
“Terrifying scars, huh? See, when I say that I’ve been through the worst, I am not speaking such thing in vain. There isn’t much I can do besides going to the war, which is what the true warriors are supposed to do. The scars are but the experiences gathered during my career… A career that consists of glory, betrayal, misfortunes and championships.”
Vincent turns around to face the camera now. He speaks confidently.
“Don’t get me wrong, though… I am not complaining whatsoever. On the contrary, I am damn proud of being a professional wrestler. I am proud of being a true warrior that goes to war every single night, no matter who I am facing, no matter the stipulation... It just doesn’t matter. Because when I step into the squared circle, I see myself into the apex of the warzone. Sadly for some, the war ends when ones’ blood taints the floor right besides ones’ move less body. It is the circle of life, I suppose.
Survival of the fittest.
Many have tried to take me down, to stop me... It has been seven years and only a really few have managed to accomplish such triumph. But at the end of the day, I will be the one making your blood spill on the mat.”
Vincent lets out a chuckle once he looked up, as if he just reminded of a subject that he is supposed to address. He points at the camera after he is done rubbing his goatee.
“Blood. That’s a key word… See, I am sure you folks are aware that I am making my debut on the Tag Team tournament. My partner and I, as Vendetta, are supposed to fight a team named ‘Bloody Best Friends’ in the first round - Quite fitting, may I add. I have no idea who they are and to be fairly honest, it does not matter.
Judging by the name, one could assume you both are good friends. That’s cute. Let me tell you a little story. My partner and I are not best friends… My partner and I attempted to kill each other in the ring back in 2014. I am not even joking around. We’ve had battles that put our lives on the line, everything done to prove a point.
The funny thing is… We are actually brothers.”
Vincent chuckles one more time. He shakes his head and moves toward the camera, displaying a serious face expression out of sudden.
“And that is our bond.
That is our chemistry.
We haven’t been raised together, let alone worked together. We won’t hug each other with big smiles across the face; we won’t tell each other futile stories about how our days went or however the fuck y'all proceed.
We will simply stick to the mindset that we share…
We go for the overkill.
You get in the ring with us and you can bet your life that you’ll get your ass whooped by Vendetta.”
Vincent goes to one of his knees and caresses the floor before looking up to the camera, displaying a smirk.
“Fate definitely has something prepared for me, because the Bringer of Blood will cement his way to the top of NJFC. If Bloody Best Friends are a stone in my path, then I will give honor where it is due…
… I will lay some bloody Best Friends on the mat - senseless as they choke on the puddle of their own fuckin' blood!”
Vincent looks intensely to the camera. He points at it and nods as the camera slowly fades to black.
Next, the camera pans inside the building. We see two men standing at the center of room. They are both wearing flawless kimonos; one is all-white while the other is all-black.
The all-black man advances toward the opponent delivering multiple kicks. Most of them are blocked; however, the person seems to be having a hard time doing so. Finally, he attempts some attacks himself only to be countered. Then, he receives a stiff kick to the abdomen which causes him to move a couple of steps back.
Once the camera man positions himself in a better angle, we notice that the man who's taking a beating is NJFC's own – Vincent Strassburg. His face expression suggests that he is frustrated & angered.
“Chūi!”
The Japanese word that stands for “attention” surely bothered Vincent, whom runs toward the sensei and attempts a flying knee, which is clearly dodged.
“Amarini mo mubō. No reckless!”
The last words are enough for Vincent’s anger to grow to a boiling point. The man actually embraces the sensei tightly and delivers a devastating belly-to-belly Suplex. Then, he quickly proceeds to take off the top of his kimono.
“We are done here. I fuckin’ told you to stop speaking in Japanese... Get outta here.”
The sensei shakes his head in disappointment as he gathers himself up. He tightens up his black belt before his next speech.
“You lack Shizukesa. Serenity. Need more… You need peace in heart if you want to learn the pure art. Osu!”
He bows to Vincent, whom takes a couple of seconds to bow back as a sign of respect. Then, the sensei goes to a small room in the back, leaving Vincent alone to recompose himself. He turns his back to the camera and drops the kimono’s upper attire on the floor. We can see the huge dragon tattoo on his back, covered by two scars that go from the top of his neck to the waist.
“Terrifying scars, huh? See, when I say that I’ve been through the worst, I am not speaking such thing in vain. There isn’t much I can do besides going to the war, which is what the true warriors are supposed to do. The scars are but the experiences gathered during my career… A career that consists of glory, betrayal, misfortunes and championships.”
Vincent turns around to face the camera now. He speaks confidently.
“Don’t get me wrong, though… I am not complaining whatsoever. On the contrary, I am damn proud of being a professional wrestler. I am proud of being a true warrior that goes to war every single night, no matter who I am facing, no matter the stipulation... It just doesn’t matter. Because when I step into the squared circle, I see myself into the apex of the warzone. Sadly for some, the war ends when ones’ blood taints the floor right besides ones’ move less body. It is the circle of life, I suppose.
Survival of the fittest.
Many have tried to take me down, to stop me... It has been seven years and only a really few have managed to accomplish such triumph. But at the end of the day, I will be the one making your blood spill on the mat.”
Vincent lets out a chuckle once he looked up, as if he just reminded of a subject that he is supposed to address. He points at the camera after he is done rubbing his goatee.
“Blood. That’s a key word… See, I am sure you folks are aware that I am making my debut on the Tag Team tournament. My partner and I, as Vendetta, are supposed to fight a team named ‘Bloody Best Friends’ in the first round - Quite fitting, may I add. I have no idea who they are and to be fairly honest, it does not matter.
Judging by the name, one could assume you both are good friends. That’s cute. Let me tell you a little story. My partner and I are not best friends… My partner and I attempted to kill each other in the ring back in 2014. I am not even joking around. We’ve had battles that put our lives on the line, everything done to prove a point.
The funny thing is… We are actually brothers.”
Vincent chuckles one more time. He shakes his head and moves toward the camera, displaying a serious face expression out of sudden.
“And that is our bond.
That is our chemistry.
We haven’t been raised together, let alone worked together. We won’t hug each other with big smiles across the face; we won’t tell each other futile stories about how our days went or however the fuck y'all proceed.
We will simply stick to the mindset that we share…
We go for the overkill.
You get in the ring with us and you can bet your life that you’ll get your ass whooped by Vendetta.”
Vincent goes to one of his knees and caresses the floor before looking up to the camera, displaying a smirk.
“Fate definitely has something prepared for me, because the Bringer of Blood will cement his way to the top of NJFC. If Bloody Best Friends are a stone in my path, then I will give honor where it is due…
… I will lay some bloody Best Friends on the mat - senseless as they choke on the puddle of their own fuckin' blood!”
Vincent looks intensely to the camera. He points at it and nods as the camera slowly fades to black.
