Post by Tommy Knox on Jan 27, 2018 2:32:21 GMT
Note: Didn't realize we didn't have to do an RP until the other day but wanted to post this even if it doesn't count.
“How are you goin’ to call yourself Shootcamp when there isn’t a single shooter between both of you?”
A familiar voice questions as the scene opens to the busy streets of Tokyo, Japan. The footage is live as the sidewalks are crowded with life beneath the sun lingering above. Walking into the picture is no one other than Tommy Knox and on his shoulder is his half of the NJFC Tag Team Championships.
“For weeks I’ve looked at my phone and read how you two are goin’ to do this, or you two are goin’ to do that. Somewhere along the lines you guys think you’re a legitimate team in Japan because you have a couple belts that I just heard about for the first time a few days ago.”
Bodies and bodies of people pass by, some even crossing between him and the camera. It doesn’t bother him. These are his people, those he has grown to love ever since entering this foreign land a few years ago. He slaps the championship on his shoulder as he directs his attention back to the camera.
“You see this right here? I worked my ass off to capture this belt, and to retain it not so long ago. Can you say the same about yours? I’ve done my research on you two and I’ve seen where you both falter when faced with real competition, but we’ll get back to that in a moment.”
He says as he holds up his hand, extending his index finger.
“This belt right here, and the one that the other half of your biggest challenge holds… These are the only Tag Team Championships in Japan that mean anything to the people of my native land. For over sixty years Kamikaze has been around from what I’ve read. You’d think someone who has been a part of this culture here for two years now would have heard about them before earlier this week.”
He looks from side to side before shrugging his shoulders and stepping closer towards the camera. Raising his arm, he points over the city and its people.
“These are the belts that people know of. This is the company that these people, my people, talk about in the streets and come to see with their very own eyes when NJFC holds an event. You two may think this is some sort of game, but believe me when I say it’s far from it.”
Lowering his arm, he reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out a few postcards, the kind that family and friends would mail to one another when traveling places far from home. There are three of them which he holds up in front of the camera for a short moment before placing them back into his pocket.
“You two are coming over here as if it were a vacation away from the heavy workloads you weigh yourselves down with. Owen is actively competin’ in three places. Ace is actively competin’ in three places. Three places that I at least know of, that aren’t NJFC. Maybe there’s more, do your thing. I just hope your two can make it to the finish line before runnin’ out of gas and believe me, this is goin’ to be a test of endurance for you both.”
“It’s good to be proud of your accomplishments. Hold them as close to your heart as you can because at the end of it all that’s all you will have left. The difference between those jack-leg Japanese Tag Team Championships you’re so proud about and these, the most sought after in all of this land, is what the individuals that hold them had to go through in order to confidently claim them as their own.”
With his hand, he holds up his index and middle fingers, pointing one at himself and the other slightly towards the championship. He then extends his arm, waving the same two fingers in front of the camera.
“Nearly two years ago in 2016 we came to Japan for Tag-Team-Tropolis at Nippon Budokan. It was April 30th where twenty-four teams from across the globe all came together to compete in a tournament with the only Tag Team Championships in Japan that matter on the line. Three rounds before the last three teams fought for these in a Ladder Match. You know what team happened to win that night while twenty-three others went home broken and empty handed?”
He glances down to his chest, pulling one side of his jacket out to reveal a “dPEEg” logo printed across a bulletproof vest.
“You’re lookin’ at one half. You’re lookin’ at the man who knocked off not one, but two members from the same team before reachin’ up and bringin’ down the gold.”
“You know who I don’t remember seein’ compete in this tournament?”
He questions again with smirk across his face.
“That would be you guys.”
Answering his own question, he points directly to the camera.
“Months followin’ we, and even NJFC, put out open challenges to any teams willing to step up and challenge the champs. You know who I never heard a single peep from then?”
The smirk was still displayed on his face although the question was different.
“You guessed it. That’s another one for you guys.”
Bringing both hands together, he softly claps, nodding towards the camera but more importantly the two individuals he was addressing.
“NJFC went on a hiatus and you know what we did? We took the GPC Championships to other promotions representin’ them as the dPEEg Championships. Something that even you, Owen, had said we should have done earlier this week. Maybe next time you should do your homework instead of puttin’ your foot in your mouth.”
“Go back to late last year when again, the search for a team to challenge was plastered all over the same social media platform that you two jerk each other off on. Who did we hear from with an answer to our challenge?”
Cocking his head, he holds his arms out, hoping someone, anyone would give him the answer to his question. No one answers, why would they? It’s just him talking to a camera but he still seemed rather displeased. Shaking his head from left to right, the smirk was no longer there to be seen. There was only a look of disappointment.
“It sure as shit wasn’t either of you two. We ended up defendin’ against Karate Man and Jacqui in a match where I witnessed first hand a woman goin’ through menopause.”
He wasn’t disappointed for long, now he was nauseous as the memories he had forced himself to forget began to reemerge. He takes a moment to get his act together. It took a bit, longer than expected but he eventually moved on, quickly erasing it from his memory bank as best he could.
“So don’t go give me this shit that we should have done this or we should have done that. We can only do what NJFC sanctions with these belts and during that long stretch, you two were nowhere to be found. WE MADE MULTIPLE OPEN CHALLENGES! You could have accepted the open challenges upon open challenges that we laid out to any and all comers. You didn’t though, you just went and got yourself a set of second rate belts from a company that is so well known that they don’t even have an actual website in this time and age of technology where the internet is the lifesource for any company whatsoever.”
Looking around, he wasn’t wrong. There were ads scattered all across the landscape and each one had a web address for their product.
“As a matter of fact, you two haven’t faced legit competition since you were in Bad Company last year and you dudes barely managed to squeak by a no name team from SWAT in your qualifyin’ match. Hell, Dakota Smith ended your night all by himself, one and done. Some people are just made for the big stage where BIG COMPETITION is to be found inside of the ring. Then again, some people are made for talkin’ a big game on social media and then firin’ blanks in the ring where the real shooters stand across from one another aimin’ to put the opposition down. You tell us which one are you?”
Again, he directs a question to the camera and those watching.
“You already know who we are and what we’ve done here in Japan in the face of adversity. From twenty-three other teams in one night to the brass wantin’ to see the gold on those whose eyes aren’t quite as open as ours, we prevail.”
“This isn’t a singles match. I won’t even discredit the win you got over me a few months back either, Owen. You were the better man that night. Man as in singular. Now you’re up against a real team who have worked as a cohesive unit far longer than you two. This is what we do, two mother fuckers in a competitive atmosphere ready to tear apart and eat anyone who stands in our way.”
With his hand, he begins to motion as if he were feeding himself with a spoon over and over.
“So back to my opening question. How are you goin’ to call yourself Shootcamp when there isn’t a single shooter between the two of you? Take your shots at us but if you comin’ for the kings you best not miss. We’ll gun you down right inside of that ring, leavin’ you full of holes just like all your claims and self hype are as of right now. We don’t need any vests…”
He pauses in mid sentence before removing the championship from his shoulder and slidin his jacket off. Tossing his jacket to the concrete, he then folds the championship before placing it on the jacket. One by one, he begins to unfasten the straps holding vest in tact against his body before completely removing it and dropping it to the ground. Extending his arms, he steps closer to the camera, wearing no vest at all, just a “dPEEg” shirt underneath.
“...take your best fuckin’ shot!”
He continues to stand out in the open with his arms spread, turning in place before looking back to the camera once more. He says nothing, he just stares into it as the scene slowly fades.
A familiar voice questions as the scene opens to the busy streets of Tokyo, Japan. The footage is live as the sidewalks are crowded with life beneath the sun lingering above. Walking into the picture is no one other than Tommy Knox and on his shoulder is his half of the NJFC Tag Team Championships.
“For weeks I’ve looked at my phone and read how you two are goin’ to do this, or you two are goin’ to do that. Somewhere along the lines you guys think you’re a legitimate team in Japan because you have a couple belts that I just heard about for the first time a few days ago.”
Bodies and bodies of people pass by, some even crossing between him and the camera. It doesn’t bother him. These are his people, those he has grown to love ever since entering this foreign land a few years ago. He slaps the championship on his shoulder as he directs his attention back to the camera.
“You see this right here? I worked my ass off to capture this belt, and to retain it not so long ago. Can you say the same about yours? I’ve done my research on you two and I’ve seen where you both falter when faced with real competition, but we’ll get back to that in a moment.”
He says as he holds up his hand, extending his index finger.
“This belt right here, and the one that the other half of your biggest challenge holds… These are the only Tag Team Championships in Japan that mean anything to the people of my native land. For over sixty years Kamikaze has been around from what I’ve read. You’d think someone who has been a part of this culture here for two years now would have heard about them before earlier this week.”
He looks from side to side before shrugging his shoulders and stepping closer towards the camera. Raising his arm, he points over the city and its people.
“These are the belts that people know of. This is the company that these people, my people, talk about in the streets and come to see with their very own eyes when NJFC holds an event. You two may think this is some sort of game, but believe me when I say it’s far from it.”
Lowering his arm, he reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out a few postcards, the kind that family and friends would mail to one another when traveling places far from home. There are three of them which he holds up in front of the camera for a short moment before placing them back into his pocket.
“You two are coming over here as if it were a vacation away from the heavy workloads you weigh yourselves down with. Owen is actively competin’ in three places. Ace is actively competin’ in three places. Three places that I at least know of, that aren’t NJFC. Maybe there’s more, do your thing. I just hope your two can make it to the finish line before runnin’ out of gas and believe me, this is goin’ to be a test of endurance for you both.”
“It’s good to be proud of your accomplishments. Hold them as close to your heart as you can because at the end of it all that’s all you will have left. The difference between those jack-leg Japanese Tag Team Championships you’re so proud about and these, the most sought after in all of this land, is what the individuals that hold them had to go through in order to confidently claim them as their own.”
With his hand, he holds up his index and middle fingers, pointing one at himself and the other slightly towards the championship. He then extends his arm, waving the same two fingers in front of the camera.
“Nearly two years ago in 2016 we came to Japan for Tag-Team-Tropolis at Nippon Budokan. It was April 30th where twenty-four teams from across the globe all came together to compete in a tournament with the only Tag Team Championships in Japan that matter on the line. Three rounds before the last three teams fought for these in a Ladder Match. You know what team happened to win that night while twenty-three others went home broken and empty handed?”
He glances down to his chest, pulling one side of his jacket out to reveal a “dPEEg” logo printed across a bulletproof vest.
“You’re lookin’ at one half. You’re lookin’ at the man who knocked off not one, but two members from the same team before reachin’ up and bringin’ down the gold.”
“You know who I don’t remember seein’ compete in this tournament?”
He questions again with smirk across his face.
“That would be you guys.”
Answering his own question, he points directly to the camera.
“Months followin’ we, and even NJFC, put out open challenges to any teams willing to step up and challenge the champs. You know who I never heard a single peep from then?”
The smirk was still displayed on his face although the question was different.
“You guessed it. That’s another one for you guys.”
Bringing both hands together, he softly claps, nodding towards the camera but more importantly the two individuals he was addressing.
“NJFC went on a hiatus and you know what we did? We took the GPC Championships to other promotions representin’ them as the dPEEg Championships. Something that even you, Owen, had said we should have done earlier this week. Maybe next time you should do your homework instead of puttin’ your foot in your mouth.”
“Go back to late last year when again, the search for a team to challenge was plastered all over the same social media platform that you two jerk each other off on. Who did we hear from with an answer to our challenge?”
Cocking his head, he holds his arms out, hoping someone, anyone would give him the answer to his question. No one answers, why would they? It’s just him talking to a camera but he still seemed rather displeased. Shaking his head from left to right, the smirk was no longer there to be seen. There was only a look of disappointment.
“It sure as shit wasn’t either of you two. We ended up defendin’ against Karate Man and Jacqui in a match where I witnessed first hand a woman goin’ through menopause.”
He wasn’t disappointed for long, now he was nauseous as the memories he had forced himself to forget began to reemerge. He takes a moment to get his act together. It took a bit, longer than expected but he eventually moved on, quickly erasing it from his memory bank as best he could.
“So don’t go give me this shit that we should have done this or we should have done that. We can only do what NJFC sanctions with these belts and during that long stretch, you two were nowhere to be found. WE MADE MULTIPLE OPEN CHALLENGES! You could have accepted the open challenges upon open challenges that we laid out to any and all comers. You didn’t though, you just went and got yourself a set of second rate belts from a company that is so well known that they don’t even have an actual website in this time and age of technology where the internet is the lifesource for any company whatsoever.”
Looking around, he wasn’t wrong. There were ads scattered all across the landscape and each one had a web address for their product.
“As a matter of fact, you two haven’t faced legit competition since you were in Bad Company last year and you dudes barely managed to squeak by a no name team from SWAT in your qualifyin’ match. Hell, Dakota Smith ended your night all by himself, one and done. Some people are just made for the big stage where BIG COMPETITION is to be found inside of the ring. Then again, some people are made for talkin’ a big game on social media and then firin’ blanks in the ring where the real shooters stand across from one another aimin’ to put the opposition down. You tell us which one are you?”
Again, he directs a question to the camera and those watching.
“You already know who we are and what we’ve done here in Japan in the face of adversity. From twenty-three other teams in one night to the brass wantin’ to see the gold on those whose eyes aren’t quite as open as ours, we prevail.”
“This isn’t a singles match. I won’t even discredit the win you got over me a few months back either, Owen. You were the better man that night. Man as in singular. Now you’re up against a real team who have worked as a cohesive unit far longer than you two. This is what we do, two mother fuckers in a competitive atmosphere ready to tear apart and eat anyone who stands in our way.”
With his hand, he begins to motion as if he were feeding himself with a spoon over and over.
“So back to my opening question. How are you goin’ to call yourself Shootcamp when there isn’t a single shooter between the two of you? Take your shots at us but if you comin’ for the kings you best not miss. We’ll gun you down right inside of that ring, leavin’ you full of holes just like all your claims and self hype are as of right now. We don’t need any vests…”
He pauses in mid sentence before removing the championship from his shoulder and slidin his jacket off. Tossing his jacket to the concrete, he then folds the championship before placing it on the jacket. One by one, he begins to unfasten the straps holding vest in tact against his body before completely removing it and dropping it to the ground. Extending his arms, he steps closer to the camera, wearing no vest at all, just a “dPEEg” shirt underneath.
“...take your best fuckin’ shot!”
He continues to stand out in the open with his arms spread, turning in place before looking back to the camera once more. He says nothing, he just stares into it as the scene slowly fades.
