Post by Raiden Ishimori on May 24, 2022 20:04:03 GMT -5
Location: New Orleans, Louisiana
Time: 11:47 P.M.
Darkness has blanketed the city of New Orleans and the usual light fixtures scattered throughout the city have already been lit up in the several buildings they reside in, giving the typical late night aesthetic for a large city at night. Several people roam the streets, dressed in somewhat casual attire for the most part in what could only be described as clubbing attire to most. Laughter mixes in with the bustling noises of cars still driving about, occasionally honking at one another whether it be someone going twenty-five in a forty, or because someone cut another person off to their chagrin. The camera soon begins maneuvering its way through the streets, brushing by various groups of people, car horns playing to the Doppler Effect until it eventually comes to the mouth of a darkened alley with more than a handful of shady looking figures hanging around but most seem to be pretty occupied as is with spray painting whatever on the stone walls lining the alleyway. A couple trash can fires sit parked at either end of the alley, offering some form of illumination though not by much as most remains shrouded by the guise of night. Among the people, a couple of rather recognizable faces stand out amid the fires’ glow catching glimpses of the two in question: Daisuke Miyazaki and Takuma Okazaki, two of the latest additions to NLW in terms of international talent. Takuma currently stands by one of the fires in a black sleeveless hoodie, arms folded over his chest rather tightly while Daisuke stands off to the side by one of the groups of graffiti artists, witnessing their work first-hand. He’s offered a spray paint can himself to try it out but politely declines in turn. He briefly pulls on the chest of his gray t-shirt, feeling some effect of the southern heat, even with it being night time. Takuma briefly looks over at him before turning back to the fire, sighing heavily.
Takuma: “I’m starting to see why Raiden said you were tricky to understand at times…”
Daisuke (chuckling): “Am I? I find mingling among the youth of today’s generation to be enlightening at times. My nephew would probably get along with these people.”
Takuma: “Yeah, but the objective in being here for the time being is that we have work to take care of outside of our search, Miyazaki. Much as our job to look for the other two is still a priority, we can’t exactly neglect our jobs either. Haven’t you had a chance to look at the matches that were put out not too long ago?”
Daisuke (turning to him): “I have, and from experience alone I’m not super worried…maybe save for the guy in the pig costume or…whatever it is that youth deems as fashionable.”
Takuma (stunned): “...Huh?”
Daisuke (shaking his head): “Don’t think about it too much. The man in question is rather…a man child would be the best way of putting it, and his manager is the only one who seems to understand what the hell is going on with him in the first place. If that doesn’t speak crazy and needs to be locked up then I don’t know what does.”
Takuma briefly pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing once more.
Takuma: “They’ll let anyone wrestle these days, huh?”
Daisuke (shrugging): “They’ve let a pig wrestle before…and a man-eating bear, so anything is possible.”
Takuma: “Jesus Christ…”
Another chuckle escapes Daisuke as he shuffles away from the artists and over to Takuma, standing across from him at the fire.
Daisuke: “Still, can ill afford to let our guard down because him, The Great Buta as he’s called…and apparently hails from our homeland…”
Takuma (shocked): “What?!”
Daisuke (holding up a hand, shaking his head): “Anyway, he has a partner in the likes of another masked individual by the name of Lee Gorn, or Foggy as he’s known to others. Rather…unique taste in appearances for these two would be generous to say when they’re more…”
Takuma: “Atrocious?”
Daisuke: “More or less. I’ve seen wild attire before in the underground scene, hell I even saw clips of EXPLOJI from MCCW’s heyday and how colorful he was with his gear.”
Takuma (sighing): “Getting off topic.”
Daisuke: “Right, right. Point is that these two don’t strike me as nothing more than simpletons who are in the industry aside from the fact that they get to play dress-up for the fun of it. If I’m to be honest, that Buta shouldn’t even be anywhere near a live taping considering how he nearly seemed ready to maul his own people in Penelope and Lee when they left a camera on him. Also what kind of schtick is playing a tape recorder to communicate going to get?”
Takuma (unfolding his arms): “A pointless memory to be remembered by when you can’t even make an impact to back it up. It’s like a horror killer duo but if they were the last ones at a cheap rate by what you make them sound to be…and unfortunately they’ve managed to land themselves in our path.”
Daisuke: “And what do Ronin do in this situation, young Takuma?”
Takuma (shaking his head): “I’m not young, Daisuke. Secondly, we cut them down if they’re going to be interfering with us. That’s what the Yakuza taught me, and it’s what conquerors of eld did should anyone try to oppress or fight back. The mighty crush the weak with the right tools, and that’s what we have.”
Takuma tightens a hand into a fist, holding it up toward his chest with a determined stare in his eyes. Daisuke nods approvingly before bringing a hand to his chin, casually stroking the scruff that sits upon it.
Daisuke: “And what of your take on The New South? More experienced here in NLW than we, and Buta and Lee for that matter but from what I’ve garnered from rewatching tapes…seems they’ve been lacking as of late and it shows. So, oh young student of mine, what do you make of them?”
Big Tiger rolls his eyes at the remark, capturing a small chuckle from the underground veteran.
Takuma: “They’re a challenge to handle when you rewind the tapes all the way back to when they challenged to become the inaugural Tag Team Champions but evidently fell short in that endeavor. Other than that, I haven’t seen a whole lot of success come from them in recent times and they really have nothing to show other than some bland dessert they serve on occasion. Only thing more bland than that is their near Si and Am back and forth talking like they’re those actual damn cats from the film.”
Daisuke: “Which further limits their own potential to make something of themselves and noticeably, lacking much drive. Teheh…I would’ve expected a lot more fire and spark from the youngsters in the business today while I remained to keep honing my craft but it’s very evident that people aren’t what I thought them to be. Instead we have people dressed as farm animals and southern boys who probably couldn’t tell a blackberry tart apart from a turnbuckle even if they got a face full of it.”
Daisuke shakes his head in earnest.
Daisuke: “Well, I think it’s about time someone shoved a fist in their face to make them realize that playtime…and that the Shogun is done with his time in Japan for the time being. Now begins the conquest here in NLW, and I’ll show ‘em why you never scoff at an old veteran like myself or an amateur like you. Experience will mean a lot in the long run, but in the beginning, it’s all about the impact you make…and these people are going to remember The Ronin come Hostile Intent.”
Takuma: “Because that’s what we’re bringing. No mercy, no remorse.”
Daisuke (grinning): “Just two folk that are here to make themselves more known now than ever in the XHF, and the Midnight Animals and The New South will be the first to fall in that conquest. In due time, we’ll lay claim to those belts as well but for now, we got a welcome party to rock and it’s going to be you and I with our arms raised. Not some pig’s, not some chicken’s, and not some Southern flops’ arms will be raised…only The Ronin’s.”
Takuma offers a stoic nod in turn before turning his gaze back over to the barrel fire, arms folding back over his chest. Daisuke walks over to him, briefly clapping a hand on his shoulder as he moves along to resume his observations of the graffiti artists at work whilst the camera pulls back from the alleyway and turns away from the entrance, gradually fading to black.
Time: 11:47 P.M.
Darkness has blanketed the city of New Orleans and the usual light fixtures scattered throughout the city have already been lit up in the several buildings they reside in, giving the typical late night aesthetic for a large city at night. Several people roam the streets, dressed in somewhat casual attire for the most part in what could only be described as clubbing attire to most. Laughter mixes in with the bustling noises of cars still driving about, occasionally honking at one another whether it be someone going twenty-five in a forty, or because someone cut another person off to their chagrin. The camera soon begins maneuvering its way through the streets, brushing by various groups of people, car horns playing to the Doppler Effect until it eventually comes to the mouth of a darkened alley with more than a handful of shady looking figures hanging around but most seem to be pretty occupied as is with spray painting whatever on the stone walls lining the alleyway. A couple trash can fires sit parked at either end of the alley, offering some form of illumination though not by much as most remains shrouded by the guise of night. Among the people, a couple of rather recognizable faces stand out amid the fires’ glow catching glimpses of the two in question: Daisuke Miyazaki and Takuma Okazaki, two of the latest additions to NLW in terms of international talent. Takuma currently stands by one of the fires in a black sleeveless hoodie, arms folded over his chest rather tightly while Daisuke stands off to the side by one of the groups of graffiti artists, witnessing their work first-hand. He’s offered a spray paint can himself to try it out but politely declines in turn. He briefly pulls on the chest of his gray t-shirt, feeling some effect of the southern heat, even with it being night time. Takuma briefly looks over at him before turning back to the fire, sighing heavily.
Takuma: “I’m starting to see why Raiden said you were tricky to understand at times…”
Daisuke (chuckling): “Am I? I find mingling among the youth of today’s generation to be enlightening at times. My nephew would probably get along with these people.”
Takuma: “Yeah, but the objective in being here for the time being is that we have work to take care of outside of our search, Miyazaki. Much as our job to look for the other two is still a priority, we can’t exactly neglect our jobs either. Haven’t you had a chance to look at the matches that were put out not too long ago?”
Daisuke (turning to him): “I have, and from experience alone I’m not super worried…maybe save for the guy in the pig costume or…whatever it is that youth deems as fashionable.”
Takuma (stunned): “...Huh?”
Daisuke (shaking his head): “Don’t think about it too much. The man in question is rather…a man child would be the best way of putting it, and his manager is the only one who seems to understand what the hell is going on with him in the first place. If that doesn’t speak crazy and needs to be locked up then I don’t know what does.”
Takuma briefly pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing once more.
Takuma: “They’ll let anyone wrestle these days, huh?”
Daisuke (shrugging): “They’ve let a pig wrestle before…and a man-eating bear, so anything is possible.”
Takuma: “Jesus Christ…”
Another chuckle escapes Daisuke as he shuffles away from the artists and over to Takuma, standing across from him at the fire.
Daisuke: “Still, can ill afford to let our guard down because him, The Great Buta as he’s called…and apparently hails from our homeland…”
Takuma (shocked): “What?!”
Daisuke (holding up a hand, shaking his head): “Anyway, he has a partner in the likes of another masked individual by the name of Lee Gorn, or Foggy as he’s known to others. Rather…unique taste in appearances for these two would be generous to say when they’re more…”
Takuma: “Atrocious?”
Daisuke: “More or less. I’ve seen wild attire before in the underground scene, hell I even saw clips of EXPLOJI from MCCW’s heyday and how colorful he was with his gear.”
Takuma (sighing): “Getting off topic.”
Daisuke: “Right, right. Point is that these two don’t strike me as nothing more than simpletons who are in the industry aside from the fact that they get to play dress-up for the fun of it. If I’m to be honest, that Buta shouldn’t even be anywhere near a live taping considering how he nearly seemed ready to maul his own people in Penelope and Lee when they left a camera on him. Also what kind of schtick is playing a tape recorder to communicate going to get?”
Takuma (unfolding his arms): “A pointless memory to be remembered by when you can’t even make an impact to back it up. It’s like a horror killer duo but if they were the last ones at a cheap rate by what you make them sound to be…and unfortunately they’ve managed to land themselves in our path.”
Daisuke: “And what do Ronin do in this situation, young Takuma?”
Takuma (shaking his head): “I’m not young, Daisuke. Secondly, we cut them down if they’re going to be interfering with us. That’s what the Yakuza taught me, and it’s what conquerors of eld did should anyone try to oppress or fight back. The mighty crush the weak with the right tools, and that’s what we have.”
Takuma tightens a hand into a fist, holding it up toward his chest with a determined stare in his eyes. Daisuke nods approvingly before bringing a hand to his chin, casually stroking the scruff that sits upon it.
Daisuke: “And what of your take on The New South? More experienced here in NLW than we, and Buta and Lee for that matter but from what I’ve garnered from rewatching tapes…seems they’ve been lacking as of late and it shows. So, oh young student of mine, what do you make of them?”
Big Tiger rolls his eyes at the remark, capturing a small chuckle from the underground veteran.
Takuma: “They’re a challenge to handle when you rewind the tapes all the way back to when they challenged to become the inaugural Tag Team Champions but evidently fell short in that endeavor. Other than that, I haven’t seen a whole lot of success come from them in recent times and they really have nothing to show other than some bland dessert they serve on occasion. Only thing more bland than that is their near Si and Am back and forth talking like they’re those actual damn cats from the film.”
Daisuke: “Which further limits their own potential to make something of themselves and noticeably, lacking much drive. Teheh…I would’ve expected a lot more fire and spark from the youngsters in the business today while I remained to keep honing my craft but it’s very evident that people aren’t what I thought them to be. Instead we have people dressed as farm animals and southern boys who probably couldn’t tell a blackberry tart apart from a turnbuckle even if they got a face full of it.”
Daisuke shakes his head in earnest.
Daisuke: “Well, I think it’s about time someone shoved a fist in their face to make them realize that playtime…and that the Shogun is done with his time in Japan for the time being. Now begins the conquest here in NLW, and I’ll show ‘em why you never scoff at an old veteran like myself or an amateur like you. Experience will mean a lot in the long run, but in the beginning, it’s all about the impact you make…and these people are going to remember The Ronin come Hostile Intent.”
Takuma: “Because that’s what we’re bringing. No mercy, no remorse.”
Daisuke (grinning): “Just two folk that are here to make themselves more known now than ever in the XHF, and the Midnight Animals and The New South will be the first to fall in that conquest. In due time, we’ll lay claim to those belts as well but for now, we got a welcome party to rock and it’s going to be you and I with our arms raised. Not some pig’s, not some chicken’s, and not some Southern flops’ arms will be raised…only The Ronin’s.”
Takuma offers a stoic nod in turn before turning his gaze back over to the barrel fire, arms folding back over his chest. Daisuke walks over to him, briefly clapping a hand on his shoulder as he moves along to resume his observations of the graffiti artists at work whilst the camera pulls back from the alleyway and turns away from the entrance, gradually fading to black.
