Respect and Harmony. Rumble in Japan.
Sept 30, 2022 13:45:47 GMT -5
Crash Rodriguez and Harmony like this
Post by Easton Alexander on Sept 30, 2022 13:45:47 GMT -5
I don’t often like to start with the shit talking… it feels petty, but the story doesn’t make any sense without some background. Harmon… Harmon fucking Egan wow man ( Easton Claps his hands) you’ve been tearing shit up, it’s a fucking spectacle to watch you work and I seriously mean that, but this is an industry that’s kill or be killed… don’t get used to the praise because when the bell rings… you know the story.
A trey is set on the table where Easton is sitting, on it is the standard American diner experience. Waffles and bacon, however the Japanese Kanji on the bottled water gives away that he’s not exactly in Anytown, USA.
Japan hasn’t treated me the greatest lately… and I’m not exactly the most threatening guy on the roster, so its understandable why you specifically requested me Harmon, you’ve got a big title match coming Vs The Craze champion… whoever that may be, and you need some momentum, so you see me… a broken man at wits end with himself and you say… well you don’t say anything so, maybe you see me and you write a little note to yourself and put it on your fridge or some shit… and it reads “That guys a free win… because he hasn’t beaten anybody since august.” And I don’t fuckin blame you Harmon I really don’t because that’s the truth…
Easton pauses as he scans a couple guys in suits making their way towards the entrance and as they leave, he stands up and follows them, Easton’s camera man… follows as well. The streets are packed and if I take out my map of Japan, looks like the business section of Shinjuku city.
I think a lot of people in that locker room see me as an easy mark, a free win if you will. And shit man maybe I am, I don’t exactly have a great record, but I’ve won more matches than I’ve lost, and I’ve learned from every match I’ve had… always improving, that old jazz.
Easton points off to a food truck, some dude going hard with Rice on a Wok.
You ever been there Yusuke? No shot? After we do this, we gotta hit that place… What was I saying, Harmon if it sounds like I’m not taking you seriously don’t take it personally. I’m hype as hell man trust me, there’s something about your style that works me up, seems like you’re the kinda guy that looks at UFC submission compilations on YouTube and says… well you don’t say anything, but you see them and go “wow those look cool I would love to try those.” Here’s the difference Egan is you try those moves on me and ill twist your little ass into a pretzel, Handbasket doesn’t exactly have the BJJ blackbelt vibe, but I have a Black belt in dropping people on their fuckin heads and just like you I found my finisher on YouTube. Except I studied the books of Danielson and Misawa instead of some MMA nobody. This might be one of the only times in your career that you are truly outclassed, I am a better wrestler, Ive got real spirit, the stuff that separates guys like you from guys like…
Easton turns the camera as we see the two men in suits walk into an old factory.
I guess that’s it Yu… put the camera away.
~~
Shinjuku Japan.
September 28th 2022.
8:19 AM.
A dingy warehouse in the middle of Japan, quite literally the fucking middle. This is where the Yakuza take him?
Yusuke: Koredesu… Easton.
Easton snaps out of his stare
Easton: Yeah… I got it. Just wait here, make sure nobody interferes.
Yusuke grabs onto Easton’s arm.
Yusuke: Atana Wa-
Easton: Its fine.
Yusuke: … Harmon.
Easton: I need whoever’s in that building to beat guys like Harmon.
Easton takes a step towards the building and the street totally clears out.
Weird…
Every vendor cleared; every homeless person gone. Its odd… almost like they know. as he gets closer to the building the sounds of his footsteps become violently loud, because it’s the only sound he can hear. Easton’s stands in front of the large warehouse door, and places a hand on the steel handle, the thoughts of what’s inside rush through his head, the horde of thugs in suits with bats and knifes cause him to loosen his grip on the handle, but the remembrance of his back across the knees of PIC, him watching from the outside of the ring as he raises his Savage championship in the air not even taking a second to look Easton’s way… it makes him sick to his stomach and it makes his heart pound. Honor, did it mean anything even after the cameras turned off… not a word from PIC until hours later… on social media.
Fuck it… Fuck all of it, the aspect of honor among thieves… everybody’s a thief. Stealing each other’s spotlight.
Easton grip tightens, and he rips the steel door open. The grinding of steel reverberates through the Shinjuku streets, but to his surprise its not some dingy smoky drug den… in fact…
No… shit… it’s been like a month.
~~
Shinjuku City.
Date: Unknown.
Time: Unknown
.
.
.
Hip Toss Wrestling Academy… Apparently.
I’m dreaming… or I’m dead, or my mind is… fucked.
Its Hip Toss. No doubt about it, the front gate to the desk entrance, to giant logo he got made to have the place look more official. Walking through the entrance way into the ringside area. Somebody’s standing in the ring staring down Easton. Their eyes fully locked on him.
Who else but you.
Father.
Easton: Dad…
MR. Alexander: Son… it’s been, a very long time.
Easton: Yeah… moms okay… David treats her well… he treats me well, your standing in a ring built on our legacy… funded by him.
Mr. Alexander: And what about Ava?
Easton doesn’t answer. His father understands.
Mr. Alexander: Right… still with you?
Easton: Everywhere I go.
Easton pulls out a small silver chain from around his neck, it’s his fathers thumbprint on the back of which says.
“In loving memory of Avery Alexander Holmes, Father, fighter, forever.”
Avery (Easton’s dad) Chuckles. Easton joins in, before stepping into the ring.
Easton: Do you see what I’ve done… what I’ve built?
Avery: Ive seen what you’ve done… on your first week you broke some old man’s leg… in your first month you got trapped on an island, in your first year you kidnapped the bosses son and lost. What happened to the kid I raised-
Easton: He died dad… Just around the same time, you did.
Avery stands in a stunned silence, before rushing Easton, throwing his boot into the air, Easton ducks and ready’s a counter, he grabs around his father waist and rolls through before wrapping his father in an arm triangle. He allows him escape but his father is relentless, he attacks ferociously without getting tired, apple doesn’t fall far.
Please stop.
The attacks are all easily countered and avoided, Easton is a far better Wrestler than his dad, they use the same moves after all.
Stop.
Avery throws a lariat, Easton grabs and rolls through tucking his arms for a Dragon Driver, he plants his feet. Memories rush through his head.
KILL HER.
The neck of his protégé crushed and contorted.
The endless horror.
STOP.
He stops, pausing his move as he lets down… Emiko?
Easton: Em.
No response.
Easton: I’m sorry.
Nothing. He blinks, and in an instant, Emiko’s appearance changes, her once bright and vibrant gear turns a dark purple and black, she ages to around her early 20’s. she looks taller, stronger.
Easton: Whose fault is it… that you turn out like this?
Emiko walks over to Easton and places a finger on his chest.
Emiko: His.
His?
Emiko reels back and lays into Easton with a forearm. Everything snaps back into reality. It is some dingy warehouse, it does smell like smoke, and it is a drug den, Easton tosses a broken baseball bat to the side, a Yakuza shaking his fist.
Yakuza: Little shit, Koroshiteyaru!
Easton: Ja… Ajime Shi!
What the fuck am I saying.
The tussle with the Yakuza scoreboard goes as follows
Yakuza: 2 clean hits
Easton: 7 Yakuza dispatched.
The nameless jobber rushes Easton and a swift kick to the dick takes him out no problem. Easton takes a breath, and a swipe of his nose wipes away the blood.
Easton: Yusuke!
The steel door opens as Yusuke scampers in, he makes some distressing remarks. Easton attempts to calm him down but to little success.
Yusuke: We are so fucked.
Easton: Yu-
Yusuke: The clans will chase us down for the end of time… imeanyoufuckedusthistimeeastonandimserious-
Easton: Yusuke please… just stay here, I’ll find him.
Bodies lay through the whole building, even the ones who can still stand just stay down, they know they lost, they are just waiting for a moment when they can make a break for it. Easton walks on light feet, stepping over broken bottles and cigarettes, it looks like the final scene from a video game, but up the stairs to an office seems like the only option, the doors unlocked, the question arises again of what waits on the other side, a mob boss with a gun, or more thugs, no time to think. The door opens.
The elephant in the room is the man tied up to the chair, it catches Easton’s attention immediately and as he makes his way over, he coughs. The man in the chair’s eyes open wide as he stares towards the Dragon, I can only imagine what he’s thinking, Easton unties him and rips the tape off his mouth.
Easton: Sensei… My name is Easton Alexander.
Sensei: ... Arigato
Easton: Arigato… I would like you to teach me… real strong style.
The man looks shocked, he leans back into the chair.
Sensei: Why me?
Easton: I had a strong recommendation, from your daughter.
The man looks shocked once again, his mouth open in surprise.
Easton: Sensei Kikuchi… I must beat Harmon Egan…
Sensei: Then I will teach you.
~~
Camera rolling Yusuke?... good.
Easton sits on a bucket, with a broom stick in his left hand and a kitchen knife in his right, a roll of duct tape sticking out of his mouth, he wedges the stick in a sturdy position and begins combining the two items together.
I have 5 days Harmon… 5 days to figure out that calf slicer… to figure out your game, strong style… that’s your deal, its mine as well. But there’s something about yours that’s so special… its real, its an art form, most people do strong style and its some fighting spirit bullshit… but you do strong style, and you invoke the wrestling gods to assist you in winning, its quite frankly… incredible. Your five foot nothing… one seventy-five pounds soaking wet. But you have the grip strength of a bear, and your fast…. And slippery. I just had a match for a major title… but when I say I’m more excited for this than I was for that, I mean it.
Harmon I will not be another statistic in your winning streak, but you will the start of mine, the spark that ignites the flame under my ass, Harmon from today forward we are rivals, because when I beat you on October 3rd, you will want a rematch. That Ontario crowd will cheer loud and proud for me, you will feel like an ant in comparison, but don’t let it get too you… please, I want no excuses when I pin you.
Harmon… lets show the world beautiful pro wrestling violence.
October 3rd, I have been wanted to say this for weeks...
What a beautiful night for a curse!
Fade to Black
A trey is set on the table where Easton is sitting, on it is the standard American diner experience. Waffles and bacon, however the Japanese Kanji on the bottled water gives away that he’s not exactly in Anytown, USA.
Japan hasn’t treated me the greatest lately… and I’m not exactly the most threatening guy on the roster, so its understandable why you specifically requested me Harmon, you’ve got a big title match coming Vs The Craze champion… whoever that may be, and you need some momentum, so you see me… a broken man at wits end with himself and you say… well you don’t say anything so, maybe you see me and you write a little note to yourself and put it on your fridge or some shit… and it reads “That guys a free win… because he hasn’t beaten anybody since august.” And I don’t fuckin blame you Harmon I really don’t because that’s the truth…
Easton pauses as he scans a couple guys in suits making their way towards the entrance and as they leave, he stands up and follows them, Easton’s camera man… follows as well. The streets are packed and if I take out my map of Japan, looks like the business section of Shinjuku city.
I think a lot of people in that locker room see me as an easy mark, a free win if you will. And shit man maybe I am, I don’t exactly have a great record, but I’ve won more matches than I’ve lost, and I’ve learned from every match I’ve had… always improving, that old jazz.
Easton points off to a food truck, some dude going hard with Rice on a Wok.
You ever been there Yusuke? No shot? After we do this, we gotta hit that place… What was I saying, Harmon if it sounds like I’m not taking you seriously don’t take it personally. I’m hype as hell man trust me, there’s something about your style that works me up, seems like you’re the kinda guy that looks at UFC submission compilations on YouTube and says… well you don’t say anything, but you see them and go “wow those look cool I would love to try those.” Here’s the difference Egan is you try those moves on me and ill twist your little ass into a pretzel, Handbasket doesn’t exactly have the BJJ blackbelt vibe, but I have a Black belt in dropping people on their fuckin heads and just like you I found my finisher on YouTube. Except I studied the books of Danielson and Misawa instead of some MMA nobody. This might be one of the only times in your career that you are truly outclassed, I am a better wrestler, Ive got real spirit, the stuff that separates guys like you from guys like…
Easton turns the camera as we see the two men in suits walk into an old factory.
I guess that’s it Yu… put the camera away.
~~
Shinjuku Japan.
September 28th 2022.
8:19 AM.
A dingy warehouse in the middle of Japan, quite literally the fucking middle. This is where the Yakuza take him?
Yusuke: Koredesu… Easton.
Easton snaps out of his stare
Easton: Yeah… I got it. Just wait here, make sure nobody interferes.
Yusuke grabs onto Easton’s arm.
Yusuke: Atana Wa-
Easton: Its fine.
Yusuke: … Harmon.
Easton: I need whoever’s in that building to beat guys like Harmon.
Easton takes a step towards the building and the street totally clears out.
Weird…
Every vendor cleared; every homeless person gone. Its odd… almost like they know. as he gets closer to the building the sounds of his footsteps become violently loud, because it’s the only sound he can hear. Easton’s stands in front of the large warehouse door, and places a hand on the steel handle, the thoughts of what’s inside rush through his head, the horde of thugs in suits with bats and knifes cause him to loosen his grip on the handle, but the remembrance of his back across the knees of PIC, him watching from the outside of the ring as he raises his Savage championship in the air not even taking a second to look Easton’s way… it makes him sick to his stomach and it makes his heart pound. Honor, did it mean anything even after the cameras turned off… not a word from PIC until hours later… on social media.
Fuck it… Fuck all of it, the aspect of honor among thieves… everybody’s a thief. Stealing each other’s spotlight.
Easton grip tightens, and he rips the steel door open. The grinding of steel reverberates through the Shinjuku streets, but to his surprise its not some dingy smoky drug den… in fact…
No… shit… it’s been like a month.
~~
Shinjuku City.
Date: Unknown.
Time: Unknown
.
.
.
Hip Toss Wrestling Academy… Apparently.
I’m dreaming… or I’m dead, or my mind is… fucked.
Its Hip Toss. No doubt about it, the front gate to the desk entrance, to giant logo he got made to have the place look more official. Walking through the entrance way into the ringside area. Somebody’s standing in the ring staring down Easton. Their eyes fully locked on him.
Who else but you.
Father.
Easton: Dad…
MR. Alexander: Son… it’s been, a very long time.
Easton: Yeah… moms okay… David treats her well… he treats me well, your standing in a ring built on our legacy… funded by him.
Mr. Alexander: And what about Ava?
Easton doesn’t answer. His father understands.
Mr. Alexander: Right… still with you?
Easton: Everywhere I go.
Easton pulls out a small silver chain from around his neck, it’s his fathers thumbprint on the back of which says.
“In loving memory of Avery Alexander Holmes, Father, fighter, forever.”
Avery (Easton’s dad) Chuckles. Easton joins in, before stepping into the ring.
Easton: Do you see what I’ve done… what I’ve built?
Avery: Ive seen what you’ve done… on your first week you broke some old man’s leg… in your first month you got trapped on an island, in your first year you kidnapped the bosses son and lost. What happened to the kid I raised-
Easton: He died dad… Just around the same time, you did.
Avery stands in a stunned silence, before rushing Easton, throwing his boot into the air, Easton ducks and ready’s a counter, he grabs around his father waist and rolls through before wrapping his father in an arm triangle. He allows him escape but his father is relentless, he attacks ferociously without getting tired, apple doesn’t fall far.
Please stop.
The attacks are all easily countered and avoided, Easton is a far better Wrestler than his dad, they use the same moves after all.
Stop.
Avery throws a lariat, Easton grabs and rolls through tucking his arms for a Dragon Driver, he plants his feet. Memories rush through his head.
KILL HER.
The neck of his protégé crushed and contorted.
The endless horror.
STOP.
He stops, pausing his move as he lets down… Emiko?
Easton: Em.
No response.
Easton: I’m sorry.
Nothing. He blinks, and in an instant, Emiko’s appearance changes, her once bright and vibrant gear turns a dark purple and black, she ages to around her early 20’s. she looks taller, stronger.
Easton: Whose fault is it… that you turn out like this?
Emiko walks over to Easton and places a finger on his chest.
Emiko: His.
His?
Emiko reels back and lays into Easton with a forearm. Everything snaps back into reality. It is some dingy warehouse, it does smell like smoke, and it is a drug den, Easton tosses a broken baseball bat to the side, a Yakuza shaking his fist.
Yakuza: Little shit, Koroshiteyaru!
Easton: Ja… Ajime Shi!
What the fuck am I saying.
The tussle with the Yakuza scoreboard goes as follows
Yakuza: 2 clean hits
Easton: 7 Yakuza dispatched.
The nameless jobber rushes Easton and a swift kick to the dick takes him out no problem. Easton takes a breath, and a swipe of his nose wipes away the blood.
Easton: Yusuke!
The steel door opens as Yusuke scampers in, he makes some distressing remarks. Easton attempts to calm him down but to little success.
Yusuke: We are so fucked.
Easton: Yu-
Yusuke: The clans will chase us down for the end of time… imeanyoufuckedusthistimeeastonandimserious-
Easton: Yusuke please… just stay here, I’ll find him.
Bodies lay through the whole building, even the ones who can still stand just stay down, they know they lost, they are just waiting for a moment when they can make a break for it. Easton walks on light feet, stepping over broken bottles and cigarettes, it looks like the final scene from a video game, but up the stairs to an office seems like the only option, the doors unlocked, the question arises again of what waits on the other side, a mob boss with a gun, or more thugs, no time to think. The door opens.
The elephant in the room is the man tied up to the chair, it catches Easton’s attention immediately and as he makes his way over, he coughs. The man in the chair’s eyes open wide as he stares towards the Dragon, I can only imagine what he’s thinking, Easton unties him and rips the tape off his mouth.
Easton: Sensei… My name is Easton Alexander.
Sensei: ... Arigato
Easton: Arigato… I would like you to teach me… real strong style.
The man looks shocked, he leans back into the chair.
Sensei: Why me?
Easton: I had a strong recommendation, from your daughter.
The man looks shocked once again, his mouth open in surprise.
Easton: Sensei Kikuchi… I must beat Harmon Egan…
Sensei: Then I will teach you.
~~
Camera rolling Yusuke?... good.
Easton sits on a bucket, with a broom stick in his left hand and a kitchen knife in his right, a roll of duct tape sticking out of his mouth, he wedges the stick in a sturdy position and begins combining the two items together.
I have 5 days Harmon… 5 days to figure out that calf slicer… to figure out your game, strong style… that’s your deal, its mine as well. But there’s something about yours that’s so special… its real, its an art form, most people do strong style and its some fighting spirit bullshit… but you do strong style, and you invoke the wrestling gods to assist you in winning, its quite frankly… incredible. Your five foot nothing… one seventy-five pounds soaking wet. But you have the grip strength of a bear, and your fast…. And slippery. I just had a match for a major title… but when I say I’m more excited for this than I was for that, I mean it.
Harmon I will not be another statistic in your winning streak, but you will the start of mine, the spark that ignites the flame under my ass, Harmon from today forward we are rivals, because when I beat you on October 3rd, you will want a rematch. That Ontario crowd will cheer loud and proud for me, you will feel like an ant in comparison, but don’t let it get too you… please, I want no excuses when I pin you.
Harmon… lets show the world beautiful pro wrestling violence.
October 3rd, I have been wanted to say this for weeks...
What a beautiful night for a curse!
Fade to Black