Post by Terry McKenna on Apr 29, 2016 2:11:44 GMT
The sound of a heavy pad beating a stiff canvas reverberated throughout the empty gym. Bringing his forearm up to his forehead, Terry McKenna wiped the sweat dripping down his face and wiped it on the back of his shorts. McKenna wrapped his arms around the top end of the bag, winching it back, mimicking a innovated headlock. With the headlock still applied, Terry repositioned himself so he was facing the camera.
“For those that 'aven't got a scooby who I am, I'm Terry McKenna, innit. And if there is one thing that you lot should know about me? It's that I can wrestle rings around everyone single person in this tournament. Blokes like King Sasori... like Vincent Strassburg; I could probably 'ave a better match – a five star match – with this dummy right 'ere than if Vendetta were to face one another in a singles match. Ya see, the point I'm tryin' to make is simple: I am the best bloody wrestler in this poxy tournament and it isn't even close.”
McKenna transitions the hold his has on the dummy bag, now locking in an armbar variant. Ideally, Terry would have liked to record a short video and trained on separate days, or even at separate times, but Terry was determined to win. He didn't want to spend any time idling around; he was here in Japan for one reason, and that was to capture the GPC World Tag Team Champions with his best friend. Well, somewhat of a best friend. Kind of. An audible sigh is heard coming from behind the camera, and an American voice could be heard. The camera zooms out slightly, revealing Bronx Valescence, who was shaking his head.
“Dude, nobody is gonna be scared of that.”
Tossing the bag to the side, Terry strutted over towards the ring ropes and perched himself on the second rope, inviting Bronx into the ring.
“Mate, I already told ya, get in. I'll be more than 'appy to kick ya arse.”
A smirk slowly appears on McKenna's face and Bronx nodded his head slightly, sliding into the ring. Before Bronx was able to get up to his feet, Terry was quick to wrap him up and apply a tight armbar, which Bronx is finding impossible to escape out of.
“King Sass – whatever your name is, I 'onestly couldn't care – and Strassburg, this Saturday, you two 'ave no idea what you're getting yourself into. I ain't gonna sit 'ere and spout off tedious reasons as to why I'm so impressive, and why you lot should be afraid of me, because that's all a load of bollocks if you ask me. If you need to tell me why I should be afraid of you, then the chances are that you 'ave no reason for me to be afraid. But me? Nah lads, I let my wrestlin' do the talkin' – though to be honest, I let Ana do the talkin' also. She's a lot more polished at it than I am. But—”
Terry was interrupted by the high-pitched screams of Bronx, begging for Terry to get off him. Terry obliges, but was quick to grab Bronx's leg, applying an achilles lock.
“Dude, really.”
“But look, Vendetta, I get ya act. I do. I mean, I've seen it done like a thousand times before; Vortex of Pain? You're 'avin' a bubble, surely. Talk about tryin' too 'ard to sound, well, 'ard. I'm scared lads, I am. Shiverin' in my kickpads. But 'onestly? You dont' scare me. I couldn't give a toss that you two thrive of pain, or that one you mugs – I don't remember, or care, which – specialises in Hardcore matches. Because that bollocks isn't gonna get you anywhere in this tournament. Go ahead mate, smack with a steel chair; crack a light tube over my head – at the end of the day, it's only gonna be beneficial to me. So be my guest. But just know this, I can guarantee you, right now, that after five minutes in the ring with me, you both will wanna crack my skull some kind of foreign object, but I can, and will, wrestle rings around you, and twice on Saturday. There is no doubt in mind that Ana and I will easily move on past the trash we're up against us in the first round, and deal with whoever we got in the second round, third round, etc.”
Terry transitions his hold of Bronx and applies his signature Lion's Den finishing hold. Bronx immediately screams out in pain, but Terry continues to keep the move applied.
“Vendetta... lads; at the end of the day, you two muppets are just the first 'urdle. And only mugs fall at the first 'urdle. Me and Ana? We're no mugs – we're Bloody Best Friends.
“OH MY GOD! DUDE, PLESE, STOP!”
Terry releases hold of Bronx, and he instantly slides out of the ring. He makes his way over to the camera and flashes a cheesy smile and pops an imaginary collar, before walking out of view. The camera returns to the ring, where Bronx is rolling around in pain. Judging from the slight audio that the camera was able to pick up, and the obscured view of Bronx's face, it appears that he was crying – possibly tears of pain? Terry would hope that that this will be the sight of Sasori or Strassburg this Saturday.
“For those that 'aven't got a scooby who I am, I'm Terry McKenna, innit. And if there is one thing that you lot should know about me? It's that I can wrestle rings around everyone single person in this tournament. Blokes like King Sasori... like Vincent Strassburg; I could probably 'ave a better match – a five star match – with this dummy right 'ere than if Vendetta were to face one another in a singles match. Ya see, the point I'm tryin' to make is simple: I am the best bloody wrestler in this poxy tournament and it isn't even close.”
McKenna transitions the hold his has on the dummy bag, now locking in an armbar variant. Ideally, Terry would have liked to record a short video and trained on separate days, or even at separate times, but Terry was determined to win. He didn't want to spend any time idling around; he was here in Japan for one reason, and that was to capture the GPC World Tag Team Champions with his best friend. Well, somewhat of a best friend. Kind of. An audible sigh is heard coming from behind the camera, and an American voice could be heard. The camera zooms out slightly, revealing Bronx Valescence, who was shaking his head.
“Dude, nobody is gonna be scared of that.”
Tossing the bag to the side, Terry strutted over towards the ring ropes and perched himself on the second rope, inviting Bronx into the ring.
“Mate, I already told ya, get in. I'll be more than 'appy to kick ya arse.”
A smirk slowly appears on McKenna's face and Bronx nodded his head slightly, sliding into the ring. Before Bronx was able to get up to his feet, Terry was quick to wrap him up and apply a tight armbar, which Bronx is finding impossible to escape out of.
“King Sass – whatever your name is, I 'onestly couldn't care – and Strassburg, this Saturday, you two 'ave no idea what you're getting yourself into. I ain't gonna sit 'ere and spout off tedious reasons as to why I'm so impressive, and why you lot should be afraid of me, because that's all a load of bollocks if you ask me. If you need to tell me why I should be afraid of you, then the chances are that you 'ave no reason for me to be afraid. But me? Nah lads, I let my wrestlin' do the talkin' – though to be honest, I let Ana do the talkin' also. She's a lot more polished at it than I am. But—”
Terry was interrupted by the high-pitched screams of Bronx, begging for Terry to get off him. Terry obliges, but was quick to grab Bronx's leg, applying an achilles lock.
“Dude, really.”
“But look, Vendetta, I get ya act. I do. I mean, I've seen it done like a thousand times before; Vortex of Pain? You're 'avin' a bubble, surely. Talk about tryin' too 'ard to sound, well, 'ard. I'm scared lads, I am. Shiverin' in my kickpads. But 'onestly? You dont' scare me. I couldn't give a toss that you two thrive of pain, or that one you mugs – I don't remember, or care, which – specialises in Hardcore matches. Because that bollocks isn't gonna get you anywhere in this tournament. Go ahead mate, smack with a steel chair; crack a light tube over my head – at the end of the day, it's only gonna be beneficial to me. So be my guest. But just know this, I can guarantee you, right now, that after five minutes in the ring with me, you both will wanna crack my skull some kind of foreign object, but I can, and will, wrestle rings around you, and twice on Saturday. There is no doubt in mind that Ana and I will easily move on past the trash we're up against us in the first round, and deal with whoever we got in the second round, third round, etc.”
Terry transitions his hold of Bronx and applies his signature Lion's Den finishing hold. Bronx immediately screams out in pain, but Terry continues to keep the move applied.
“Vendetta... lads; at the end of the day, you two muppets are just the first 'urdle. And only mugs fall at the first 'urdle. Me and Ana? We're no mugs – we're Bloody Best Friends.
“OH MY GOD! DUDE, PLESE, STOP!”
Terry releases hold of Bronx, and he instantly slides out of the ring. He makes his way over to the camera and flashes a cheesy smile and pops an imaginary collar, before walking out of view. The camera returns to the ring, where Bronx is rolling around in pain. Judging from the slight audio that the camera was able to pick up, and the obscured view of Bronx's face, it appears that he was crying – possibly tears of pain? Terry would hope that that this will be the sight of Sasori or Strassburg this Saturday.
