Post by bryanfnlaughlin on Jul 3, 2017 11:29:22 GMT
A perfect storm was coming for NJPW and it had it’s eyes set on the GPC World Heavyweight Championship. The trojan horse was Pride of Puroresu. An invitation to the rest of the world’s greatest wrestlers but everyone quickly figured out that there was a group who were applying more than others.
The Gaijin.
Now the homegrown JApanese stars were beginning to rise up in fear of losing their own company. A company built in Japan on the backs of their people, yet here were these Gaijin coming in and making an impact. From the outside looking in, one would have to think the instinct to survive would eventually kick in. But would it kick in sooner than the killer instinct that the Gaijin have found? Would it be in time to stop the inevitable?
Doubtful. The perfect storm has brewed for months and soon it hits. Nobody is safe.
Sitting in a chair by a fireplace, as if in preparation of him readying to be the speaker for story time, Laughlin’s lips perk on the right side of his mouth. A sly grin, not exactly the best poker face. A grin that nearly lets one assume that he holds the best hand at the table; that he’s not telling the world something important he knows.
“NJFC. Welcome to my home. A home that I defend mightily because of the respect I have for it. A home that you would never be allowed to walk directly into because I protect what I hold the dearest. So, what is it that you local shut eyes hold dearest?”
His hands fold as his elbows rest on either side of the high arm-rested chair. Nearly built in the fashion of a throne.
“Vile octopus acts? Underwear in a vending machine? You tell me. Because I can tell you what you certainly don’t hold near and dear to your heart. That’s the GPC strap. Show me one respectable young gun that in the generic black tights who rose through your system and came out holding that strap. Show me one LEGEND that has held that championship who doesn’t have round eyes like me. What? Is that too much? Too bad. I’ve certainly been as respectable as possible in these last few months flying back and forth and what have I received for it? Hate. Hatred towards me because of the way I look? That’s real original, what’s next? Camps for us to think hard in?”
Bryan waves his hands and stands up from his chair before slowly making his way over to the fireplace. The fire crackles as an undertone in the background of his speech
“No. No because not only will I not let that happen, but WE won’t let that happen. Pride of Puroresu is the beginning and while I sat out there and respectfully played with the interviewers who asked me the dumbest questions I’ve ever heard -- that’s done. I’m done. See, I’m done coming back and forth just to put my life on the line and get booed. Win or lose, you may be seeing the last of this great gaijin warrior. Fact is Japan, you don’t deserve it. But I’ll tell you what you do deserve. You deserve me winning this tournament and using the contractual legal obligation to get an opportunity at that GPC title on American soil. Because I’ve had lawyers look over the contract I signed and nowhere in there does it say that match has to take place in Japan. Where we, Gaijin Legends, are booed as if we are yesterday's anime.”
With a wink to the camera Bryan walks away from the fire and trails his finger along the leather spines of numerous books that line the wall on old wooden shelves.
“Story upon story of do they write of the heroes winning and getting to go home and take your girl. You should all be lucky I’ve already found my fire headed lass, because a t shirt telling the world that I’ve won the P.O.P is all I would need to take every single one of your women home because the heroes aren’t winning this one. You won’t get to clap respectfully along and put your hands over your mouths when you giggle when I’m done wrestling. You’ll be breathlessly gasping and asking yourself what kind of idiot let’s a guy like this into our country to compete. And what kind of monster does this to a company that swore trust in their tournament of the elite. Your answer will be the guy with the inked arms and eyes that charm. The guy with the great hair who doesn’t care. Laughlin. One name. One name that has made it this far and regardless of if I win this or not you will remember it as if I emerged from the water and tore down Tokyo.”
His finger stops on a book finally and he pulls it from its assignment on the shelf. Holding it up to the screen the leather binding has “World War II” written on the side in worn out white press. The same evil grin slides across the right side of his mouth as he opens it and thumbs through the pages quickly
“Where is the part about the….”
He says out loud as the papers can be heard swiftly turning
“Who would you say is the hero in this one? I know NJFC faithful and I would heartily disagree. Two sides of the coin and either way it lands the story differs.
Who really started it?
Was there a truce to call off any unnecessary conflict?
Who really are the good guys?
So many questions and you would have to sort through answers like pieces to a puzzle to put it together. One question has a stiff answer though, who ended it? The same people who will end Pride of Puroresu. The Gaijin.”
The Gaijin.
Now the homegrown JApanese stars were beginning to rise up in fear of losing their own company. A company built in Japan on the backs of their people, yet here were these Gaijin coming in and making an impact. From the outside looking in, one would have to think the instinct to survive would eventually kick in. But would it kick in sooner than the killer instinct that the Gaijin have found? Would it be in time to stop the inevitable?
Doubtful. The perfect storm has brewed for months and soon it hits. Nobody is safe.
Sitting in a chair by a fireplace, as if in preparation of him readying to be the speaker for story time, Laughlin’s lips perk on the right side of his mouth. A sly grin, not exactly the best poker face. A grin that nearly lets one assume that he holds the best hand at the table; that he’s not telling the world something important he knows.
“NJFC. Welcome to my home. A home that I defend mightily because of the respect I have for it. A home that you would never be allowed to walk directly into because I protect what I hold the dearest. So, what is it that you local shut eyes hold dearest?”
His hands fold as his elbows rest on either side of the high arm-rested chair. Nearly built in the fashion of a throne.
“Vile octopus acts? Underwear in a vending machine? You tell me. Because I can tell you what you certainly don’t hold near and dear to your heart. That’s the GPC strap. Show me one respectable young gun that in the generic black tights who rose through your system and came out holding that strap. Show me one LEGEND that has held that championship who doesn’t have round eyes like me. What? Is that too much? Too bad. I’ve certainly been as respectable as possible in these last few months flying back and forth and what have I received for it? Hate. Hatred towards me because of the way I look? That’s real original, what’s next? Camps for us to think hard in?”
Bryan waves his hands and stands up from his chair before slowly making his way over to the fireplace. The fire crackles as an undertone in the background of his speech
“No. No because not only will I not let that happen, but WE won’t let that happen. Pride of Puroresu is the beginning and while I sat out there and respectfully played with the interviewers who asked me the dumbest questions I’ve ever heard -- that’s done. I’m done. See, I’m done coming back and forth just to put my life on the line and get booed. Win or lose, you may be seeing the last of this great gaijin warrior. Fact is Japan, you don’t deserve it. But I’ll tell you what you do deserve. You deserve me winning this tournament and using the contractual legal obligation to get an opportunity at that GPC title on American soil. Because I’ve had lawyers look over the contract I signed and nowhere in there does it say that match has to take place in Japan. Where we, Gaijin Legends, are booed as if we are yesterday's anime.”
With a wink to the camera Bryan walks away from the fire and trails his finger along the leather spines of numerous books that line the wall on old wooden shelves.
“Story upon story of do they write of the heroes winning and getting to go home and take your girl. You should all be lucky I’ve already found my fire headed lass, because a t shirt telling the world that I’ve won the P.O.P is all I would need to take every single one of your women home because the heroes aren’t winning this one. You won’t get to clap respectfully along and put your hands over your mouths when you giggle when I’m done wrestling. You’ll be breathlessly gasping and asking yourself what kind of idiot let’s a guy like this into our country to compete. And what kind of monster does this to a company that swore trust in their tournament of the elite. Your answer will be the guy with the inked arms and eyes that charm. The guy with the great hair who doesn’t care. Laughlin. One name. One name that has made it this far and regardless of if I win this or not you will remember it as if I emerged from the water and tore down Tokyo.”
His finger stops on a book finally and he pulls it from its assignment on the shelf. Holding it up to the screen the leather binding has “World War II” written on the side in worn out white press. The same evil grin slides across the right side of his mouth as he opens it and thumbs through the pages quickly
“Where is the part about the….”
He says out loud as the papers can be heard swiftly turning
“Who would you say is the hero in this one? I know NJFC faithful and I would heartily disagree. Two sides of the coin and either way it lands the story differs.
Who really started it?
Was there a truce to call off any unnecessary conflict?
Who really are the good guys?
So many questions and you would have to sort through answers like pieces to a puzzle to put it together. One question has a stiff answer though, who ended it? The same people who will end Pride of Puroresu. The Gaijin.”
