"The Enemy of MY Enemy, Will Suffer Dearly" (JS#19)
Apr 28, 2023 0:07:34 GMT -5
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Post by Jesse Jamester on Apr 28, 2023 0:07:34 GMT -5
“Finally, Japan has a real wrestling star on its sacred land again.”
Zooming out, the camera focused on and after an adjustment we see the King of Violence, Jesse Jamester.
Piercing cold blue eyes beam like spotlights through the hallowed mask of the infamous Murder Lizard. Long dark brown messy stringy hair resides at the sides of the scaly reptilian like mask that has the red ink in the crevices, portraying the blood of his foes that has been spilt.
“J-ROK, you’re about to wake the fuck up and see what true violence is.
Among the faithful Japanese wrestling fans, I assure you, my name is a legend that grows stronger each time it is mentioned.
The King of Violence was born in this country, born from the blood I poured, that I spilt, and all the carnage I left in my wake.”
Licking his bottom lip through a mangy beard. The bottom of his mask was cut out, exposing his upper lip down to the bearded chin Jesse had grown out over the past six months. Not quite the ZZ Top style he was shooting for, mostly due to practicality when wrestling. However the beard had become bushy and more grizzled in this new bulk up presences of the Murder Lizard.
“Japan was where I made my bones as a young man learning the art and honing my craft as a professional wrestler. Yes! It was here, the strong style kings, the hardcore legends, the iconic high flying lunatics, and the insanity of the most loyal and respectful fans of this sport that I found my identity.
Breaking in here in Japan was no easy feat. We Canadians come off as overly polite aye, and I sure as hell had the northern accent back then, more than I do now. Touring the world, the roots of my Canadian tongue have been bastardized with the English I would hear so frequently. Promoters wanted that English bad ass that could tear the venues down and not the Canadian twang I was raised with.
Years spent on the road, on planes, from North America to Australia — your ole’ boy Jesse has hit every landmark, every dive bar, every rest stop, and more than a few jail cells on the journey.
I thank you Japan, sincerely, I mean it.
The school of Japanese wrestling broke me in and made sure I was made of the stuff that a wrestler needs to have to be successful. “
Rubbing his chin with his right hand. Jesse’s eyes drift to the right, gazing away from the camera lens as he reflects on the moment he is describing to the viewers.
“I was a young man then. A hungry adolescent, dawning a different mask but still called by the name I have today. Ahhhh… what a time it was.
But that was then.
This is now.”
Standing up, Jesse walks forward a few steps and the camera turns to follow him. Presenting the imagery of falling beautiful red leaves with the wind, a season known as koyo where red leaves are abundant, due to the tree momiji. Holding out his hand, Jesse catches one of the red leaves in his palm, and with his back turned to the camera, he speaks again.
“I come back to Japan on my Tour of Violence for two purposes.
First and foremost, to find the person responsible for incinerating my homestead with a mail bomb. As I am sure the package was meant to take me out, and the leads I have followed have all been dead ends… I have not given up, not by a long shot.
While here I have made business dealings to work for J-ROK to keep me busy.
But there is another reason I chose J-ROK to be my new home.”
A dramatic pause as he takes in the serene beauty of the land before him. Something was different about the Murder Lizard as he stood here, something that you couldn’t quite put your finger on - but felt in ways where the hair on your neck stood on end or the feeling of having dejavu creates in the moment. It was as though Jesse was calm in this setting, almost at peace with the tasks he was describing on his to-do list. That in of itself is a terrifying thought, if indeed this was the case for the King of Violence.
“My second priority goes by the name:
Dylan Black.
The Daemon of Mayhem has stained the great Japanese rings with disgrace, dishonor, and inconceivable disrespect.
High tailing his ass to GUNS as he held both the J-ROK Visual Kei championship and the XHF X*Crown championship shows us all the type of man he truly is.
A ego maniacal coward who not only set a city on fire, but has used my name to gain notoriety from the now defunct Pillars of Violence.
Dylan fears the consequences of his own actions, and I am the reminder that he cannot run forever. Your day of reckoning is coming, and I will be there to see it carried out.
This vengeance I seek out is not going to be served in haste. Oh no, I intend to relish the torture I have planned for you Dylan.
I give you a King’s most violent guarantee that you will not be the same man, following this feud.”
Tipping his head, Jesse’s scaly reptilian black and red mask has the sun hit it in a way that the red appears to be liquid blood, but with a snap of his fingers, he bolts his posture upright and points into the camera.
“This hate for Dylan has been raging, becoming a fire inside me that refuses to be extinguished. It has been this way ever since the Oh Violent Night Civil Wargames.
What Donzig did to me, triggered the same hunger I had when I first came to Japan oh so many years ago. It was like the reset button had been smashed and I saw clearly again. I could see the world, the people around me, and the maggots of the XHF that had found their way into my circle - for what they truly are!
Dylan sees himself as the greatest champion in the history of the XHF, and I give it to him -- he has built quite the resume in his short tenure here. But let’s not forget that wrestlers are a dime a dozen, and I have a pocket full of change.
For every Dylan Black achievement, someone else will come along and out do him. It is the way of this business - records are meant to be broken. Accolades are to be achieved. Colour me insane because the only way the proverbial wheel quits turning is by taking the whole system down… and let’s be honest, I have been part of such attempts before — they never go according to plan.
That story is for another day, another time. Back to the topic at hand.
I plan to take the X*Crown from Dylan Black and bring it back to Japan. To restore the glory that this great country is owed! The respect I have for Japan runs deep. But don't let that fool the folks of J-ROK. Yes, this roster of people and the champions of J-ROK will not be given that same respect until it’s been proven they deserve it. Earning my respect, one match at a time;
In that ring, mono y mono with yours truly.”
Taking a moment to step back and let his whole upper body be seen in the frame, Jesse Jamester shows off the weight gain and muscle definition he has packed on over the past few months.
“Fukushima Zombie, I will not go easy on you simply because of your gender. Man, woman, creature - whatever and whoever they are, I treat each opponent the same. When you come to that ring, you’ll find the King of Violence gives no fucks about your past, for your fan appeal, or for what you have done in charities all over the world.
It’s time that Japan remembers the man who put Death matches on the map!
It’s time they are reminded of the blood I am capable of spilling!"
Pause.
"Fukushima, it's not going to be a good night for you - but I promise I won’t take long to lay you out and get on with your charity work. When the bell sounds you can return to the locker room and tend to your wounds, take those photo ops for the less privileged, and see the light of another day. I do not aim to hurt you at Jam Sessions. That is, unless you give me a reason to.
Until I can get my hands on Dylan Black, I guarantee I will treat every opponent like a member of E.V.E. One by one I will go through the ranks of this roster and cement the name Jesse Jamester in the history books of J-ROK.
Until a day comes…”
Crumbling the leaf in his hand, Jesse turns to face the camera. His piercing cold blue eyes shoot daggers at the viewer through his scaly black and red reptilian mask.
“Where the crowd's simple utterance of my name, will draw tales as legendary as the samurai who fought for this country centuries ago. It will be known as the Tour of Violence that painted Japan red forever more.
One record at a time…
I will erase the name, Dylan Black.”
A crooked haggard smile peaks through the shaggy beard as the camera fades out.