[005 - On Camera] Der Eins mit Neunundneunzig Luftballons
Jun 5, 2017 20:06:35 GMT -5
Kira Izumi likes this
Post by Deleted on Jun 5, 2017 20:06:35 GMT -5
#ooc Been sitting on a mostly completed RP for days and only now do I bother to finish and code it, lol. Anyway, it's a little weird in my opinion and a lot of it feels like filler but in my defense I had very little to work with but I still wanted to write an RP that's worth reading, so here we go. And who knows, you may get a chuckle out of it, lol. Anyway, according to Google Docs, this RP is 1,500 words long. Hope you enjoy!
P.S.: Sorry if I butchered the title. German's not exactly my native tongue...heck, I can barely speak English and my countrymen spawned the frigging language...
“I am a man that’s a firm believer in second chances.”
Now, why, you may be asking yourself, am I quoting Axe in the previous edition of Lights Out? Well, besides the huge gut laugh I got while he was spouting all that bullshit about me, that was the one thing he said that piqued my interest. After god knows how long I’ve spent under this unjust suspension--seriously, I’d have gotten a raise in Japan for doing the same shit--good ol’ Axe finally grew a pair, pulled on a pair of big boy pants and did what he should have done the second he dropped the suspend hammer on me.
But hey, what’s done is done, am I right? What matters to me now is the good news/bad news situation my return ultimately represents. The good news is: I got a hell of a lot of pent-up anger and aggression and I got three fools to take it all out on. The bad news? I got a hell of a lot of pent-up anger and aggression and I got three fools to take it all out on.
How is that ‘bad news’? Hey, I didn’t say it was bad news for me, did I?
She has been called a loose cannon, a rabid animal and a vicious wild dog more times than she cares to acknowledge. She would, of course, be the first to agree with those who called her such things but as far as Sara Yoshiko Saint, the young woman known among wrestling fans as Saint Saito, is concerned, at her very core she is simply a warrior. Never has Saito felt more alive than when she felt the blood of her opponent on her knuckles and the brief flash of pain from somebody’s lucky punch. It seems rather sadomasochistic of her, to be sure, but the truth of it is Saito loves--lives--to fight. To not be able to do what she lives for, especially for as long as she has, Saito had been like an animal in a cage, scratching at the lock and frothing at the mouth. And for what? Because she taught a lesson that needed to be taught? If it came down to it, she would have done it again. You do not--ever--piss off a dragon.
But the cage has finally been opened, and Saint Saito couldn’t be happier.
She was even happy enough to sing...much to her Aunt Sumie’s annoyance.
“Neunundneunzig luftballons! Auf ihrem weg zum horizont! Hielt man für UFOs aud dem all! Darum schickte eine General!” sang Saito loudly, clapping her hands in rhythm as she and her aunt stepped through the doors of the conference room, filled with a crowd of bored, impatient-looking reporters, photographers and the occasional cameraman. Clearly, they had all been waiting far longer than they expected. “Ne fligerstaffel hinterher! Alarm zu geben, wen es so wär! Dabei war’n da am horizont! Nur neunundneunzig luft--!”
“<Shut up!!>” demanded Sumie, shortly after the two Saito women stepped behind the table at the front. “<Shut! Up! As in ‘shut your hole!’ You’ve been singing eighties songs since we got in the car, so pack it in!!>”
Saito’s face suddenly became like a stone as she stared blankly at her hot tempered aunt, but she said nothing until she finally taken her seat at the table, Sumie shortly joining her but still glaring at her aunt.
“<I’d say ‘sorry we’re late’>,” began Saito in Japanese after she cleared her throat, “<but let’s face it; we don’t give a fuck if we are. Anyway, let’s get this over with--got better things to do.>”
After a brief shuffle of movement from the crowd as they readied themselves for the press conference. The cameras in the room began to roll, and a reporter finally stood to ask the first question of the New Ace of Pro Wrestling.
“<A question for Saito Sumie-san,>” he began, clearly, “<We've heard-->”
“<Shut up,>” responded the elder Saito, whose glare turned toward the reporter in question, who meekly sat back down. “<Let’s make something clear: we’re not here to answer your questions. You’re here because my hot tempered niece, here, wishes to make a statement concerning her situation with that gaijin company she works for. So how about all of you shut up and make your little notes, so you can get paid and we can get out of here. Like Yoshiko said,>” she added, using her niece’s middle name as she preferred to do, “<we’ve got better things to do than sit here. Cameras, roll. Yoshiko-chan, speak.>”
The room was silent for a brief moment, save for the sound of cameras snapping photos of the two Saito women, until the younger Saito finally opened her mouth.
“<A certain man tried to make it clear that his company will run perfectly fine without Saint Saito,>” she began. “<That there are wrestlers literally lining up at his office door, waiting to sign contracts with the next big thing in American wrestling, and--long story short--basically said that all he had to do was snap his fingers and I’d be out on my ass.>”
She paused for a few seconds to take a sip out of a water bottle that had been waiting for her.
“<Which is, of course, total bullshit because he’d have done that already if that were true. Let’s face it, firing me like I’m some mid-card punk is like committing career suicide. He even said it himself when he said that I epitomise everything the Battlefield represented: I’m brutal, I’m determined. I’m talented. He also even said I had a 'cult following,' which makes it even more of a career suicide because it’s the so-called ‘cults’ that are the most loyal fans of them all. They’re not like those fickle bishes who cheer for whoever’s got the gaudy-ass belt around their waist. No, no, they’re the ones who go to all the live shows to see me, pay out the ass to buy all my merchandise, and believe it: if I go, they’ll tell him to kiss their ass and go right back to saving up to go to Japan to see me. And I still get paid.>
“<Fact is; he may sign the cheques, but I’m the one who makes the money in our relationship. And I think he recognises that, deep down, because instead of firing me he’s trying to save face--like the punk bish that he is--with this suspension bullshit, not to mention my coming back to work on the condition that I win this gauntlet match he’s booked me in. And you can tell he’s only trying to save face since instead of--you know--making it challenging for me, which would actually be welcome, he’s given me a bunch of guys whose names I don’t even care enough to remember. See, that’s how much of losers these guys are.>
“All I really know about them is...one’s some kind of redneck who likes to drive cars and fuck his sister--I dunno: guy just looks like the type, is all. There’s another guy who likes to call himself an ‘Expert.’ An expert of what, I can’t say, but it sure as shit ain’t fighting. Oh! And my own personal fave: a cookie cutter ‘hardcore’ brawler! Please, Axe, as if I don’t fight enough of those guys already…>”
Saito rolled her eyes.
“<Come on,>” she continued, “<even if he only sent out that hooker who does the interviews to fight me it couldn’t get any more obvious what he’s trying to pull. Of course, this is an attempt to save face on his part! But whatever, man; if Axe wants to feel like he’s the one in charge then more power to him. I’ll just be out there in the ring this week, doing the real work and making short work of the three guys who, let’s face it, are already dead and Axe is the guy who signed their death warrants. But after I’m done digging three graves for three dead guys, all of you sitting in this room can rest assured that he too will--when the time is right--learn that you. Never. Piss off. A dragon.>”
Saito shared a knowing look with her aunt, before they both slowly raised from their seats.
“<Alright, cut, print, do whatever it is you people do; we’re out of here,>” said Saito as Sumie stepped past her and out the door. “<Onjuku, here I come!>”
And with that, Saito herself stepped out of the conference room, suddenly dancing in step and clapping in rhythm as she now began to sing Journey’s ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ to her aunt.
“Just a small town girl...livin’ in a lonely world! She took the midnight train, going anywhere…!”
“<Yoshiko-chan!>” snarled her aunt, about to throw her purse at her niece, but then she stopped and shrugged. “Just a city boy...born and raised in South Detroit!” she suddenly sang in heavily accented English. “He took the midnight train, going anywhere…!”
P.S.: Sorry if I butchered the title. German's not exactly my native tongue...heck, I can barely speak English and my countrymen spawned the frigging language...
“I am a man that’s a firm believer in second chances.”
Now, why, you may be asking yourself, am I quoting Axe in the previous edition of Lights Out? Well, besides the huge gut laugh I got while he was spouting all that bullshit about me, that was the one thing he said that piqued my interest. After god knows how long I’ve spent under this unjust suspension--seriously, I’d have gotten a raise in Japan for doing the same shit--good ol’ Axe finally grew a pair, pulled on a pair of big boy pants and did what he should have done the second he dropped the suspend hammer on me.
But hey, what’s done is done, am I right? What matters to me now is the good news/bad news situation my return ultimately represents. The good news is: I got a hell of a lot of pent-up anger and aggression and I got three fools to take it all out on. The bad news? I got a hell of a lot of pent-up anger and aggression and I got three fools to take it all out on.
How is that ‘bad news’? Hey, I didn’t say it was bad news for me, did I?
****
She has been called a loose cannon, a rabid animal and a vicious wild dog more times than she cares to acknowledge. She would, of course, be the first to agree with those who called her such things but as far as Sara Yoshiko Saint, the young woman known among wrestling fans as Saint Saito, is concerned, at her very core she is simply a warrior. Never has Saito felt more alive than when she felt the blood of her opponent on her knuckles and the brief flash of pain from somebody’s lucky punch. It seems rather sadomasochistic of her, to be sure, but the truth of it is Saito loves--lives--to fight. To not be able to do what she lives for, especially for as long as she has, Saito had been like an animal in a cage, scratching at the lock and frothing at the mouth. And for what? Because she taught a lesson that needed to be taught? If it came down to it, she would have done it again. You do not--ever--piss off a dragon.
But the cage has finally been opened, and Saint Saito couldn’t be happier.
She was even happy enough to sing...much to her Aunt Sumie’s annoyance.
“Neunundneunzig luftballons! Auf ihrem weg zum horizont! Hielt man für UFOs aud dem all! Darum schickte eine General!” sang Saito loudly, clapping her hands in rhythm as she and her aunt stepped through the doors of the conference room, filled with a crowd of bored, impatient-looking reporters, photographers and the occasional cameraman. Clearly, they had all been waiting far longer than they expected. “Ne fligerstaffel hinterher! Alarm zu geben, wen es so wär! Dabei war’n da am horizont! Nur neunundneunzig luft--!”
“<Shut up!!>” demanded Sumie, shortly after the two Saito women stepped behind the table at the front. “<Shut! Up! As in ‘shut your hole!’ You’ve been singing eighties songs since we got in the car, so pack it in!!>”
Saito’s face suddenly became like a stone as she stared blankly at her hot tempered aunt, but she said nothing until she finally taken her seat at the table, Sumie shortly joining her but still glaring at her aunt.
“<I’d say ‘sorry we’re late’>,” began Saito in Japanese after she cleared her throat, “<but let’s face it; we don’t give a fuck if we are. Anyway, let’s get this over with--got better things to do.>”
After a brief shuffle of movement from the crowd as they readied themselves for the press conference. The cameras in the room began to roll, and a reporter finally stood to ask the first question of the New Ace of Pro Wrestling.
“<A question for Saito Sumie-san,>” he began, clearly, “<We've heard-->”
“<Shut up,>” responded the elder Saito, whose glare turned toward the reporter in question, who meekly sat back down. “<Let’s make something clear: we’re not here to answer your questions. You’re here because my hot tempered niece, here, wishes to make a statement concerning her situation with that gaijin company she works for. So how about all of you shut up and make your little notes, so you can get paid and we can get out of here. Like Yoshiko said,>” she added, using her niece’s middle name as she preferred to do, “<we’ve got better things to do than sit here. Cameras, roll. Yoshiko-chan, speak.>”
The room was silent for a brief moment, save for the sound of cameras snapping photos of the two Saito women, until the younger Saito finally opened her mouth.
“<A certain man tried to make it clear that his company will run perfectly fine without Saint Saito,>” she began. “<That there are wrestlers literally lining up at his office door, waiting to sign contracts with the next big thing in American wrestling, and--long story short--basically said that all he had to do was snap his fingers and I’d be out on my ass.>”
She paused for a few seconds to take a sip out of a water bottle that had been waiting for her.
“<Which is, of course, total bullshit because he’d have done that already if that were true. Let’s face it, firing me like I’m some mid-card punk is like committing career suicide. He even said it himself when he said that I epitomise everything the Battlefield represented: I’m brutal, I’m determined. I’m talented. He also even said I had a 'cult following,' which makes it even more of a career suicide because it’s the so-called ‘cults’ that are the most loyal fans of them all. They’re not like those fickle bishes who cheer for whoever’s got the gaudy-ass belt around their waist. No, no, they’re the ones who go to all the live shows to see me, pay out the ass to buy all my merchandise, and believe it: if I go, they’ll tell him to kiss their ass and go right back to saving up to go to Japan to see me. And I still get paid.>
“<Fact is; he may sign the cheques, but I’m the one who makes the money in our relationship. And I think he recognises that, deep down, because instead of firing me he’s trying to save face--like the punk bish that he is--with this suspension bullshit, not to mention my coming back to work on the condition that I win this gauntlet match he’s booked me in. And you can tell he’s only trying to save face since instead of--you know--making it challenging for me, which would actually be welcome, he’s given me a bunch of guys whose names I don’t even care enough to remember. See, that’s how much of losers these guys are.>
“All I really know about them is...one’s some kind of redneck who likes to drive cars and fuck his sister--I dunno: guy just looks like the type, is all. There’s another guy who likes to call himself an ‘Expert.’ An expert of what, I can’t say, but it sure as shit ain’t fighting. Oh! And my own personal fave: a cookie cutter ‘hardcore’ brawler! Please, Axe, as if I don’t fight enough of those guys already…>”
Saito rolled her eyes.
“<Come on,>” she continued, “<even if he only sent out that hooker who does the interviews to fight me it couldn’t get any more obvious what he’s trying to pull. Of course, this is an attempt to save face on his part! But whatever, man; if Axe wants to feel like he’s the one in charge then more power to him. I’ll just be out there in the ring this week, doing the real work and making short work of the three guys who, let’s face it, are already dead and Axe is the guy who signed their death warrants. But after I’m done digging three graves for three dead guys, all of you sitting in this room can rest assured that he too will--when the time is right--learn that you. Never. Piss off. A dragon.>”
Saito shared a knowing look with her aunt, before they both slowly raised from their seats.
“<Alright, cut, print, do whatever it is you people do; we’re out of here,>” said Saito as Sumie stepped past her and out the door. “<Onjuku, here I come!>”
And with that, Saito herself stepped out of the conference room, suddenly dancing in step and clapping in rhythm as she now began to sing Journey’s ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ to her aunt.
“Just a small town girl...livin’ in a lonely world! She took the midnight train, going anywhere…!”
“<Yoshiko-chan!>” snarled her aunt, about to throw her purse at her niece, but then she stopped and shrugged. “Just a city boy...born and raised in South Detroit!” she suddenly sang in heavily accented English. “He took the midnight train, going anywhere…!”