Post by ethanking on Jan 31, 2018 1:38:30 GMT -5
Background Music
The video package opens on a black screen, winter winds howling softly in the background. After a few moments, Ethan's voice begins to speak with a slow deliberation.
"I find that first impressions are always of profound importance."
as a sequence of clips from various promotions around the world. From Ethan King's in-ring professional wrestling debut in an independent show in Green Bay, to later matches in his career across the globe, many of them in Japan.
"Were this an established company, the answer would be easier. Find your kings, and rip them from their thrones. It's the same here as it is in business. When introducing yourself to a new company, you make sure to make the heaviest statement you can be humbling the biggest dog in the yard."
The theme of the clips shift. Savage attacks on champions of their respective companies. Ruthless ambushes backstage. Blood dripping from Ethan's silver-gilded brass knuckles. Broken men laying prone in the ring. Commentators exclaiming shock at what they have just witnessed.
"Of course, breaking idols and heroes is bound to earn you resistance... at first."
The scenes shift again. People standing up to Ethan King. Wrestlers and challengers rallying the crowd behind them as they decry all of Ethan's brutal and underhanded tactics. Entire factions standing up to him, sometimes preventing him from continuing a beatdown. Ethan never flinches away from them, even as they gang up on him to bring him down.
"Defiance. It is the natural reaction to command. The weak cannot adapt to it, and crumble away in fear... but the strong?"
Shots of one of the same men who was standing against Ethan in a previous clip getting run down by a limousine in a parking lot. Another being assaulted in the locker room, the force of his head's impact leaving a crater in a locker's door. Ethan pinning another of them, blood dripping from his knuckles as he disdainfully steps on his sternum for the three-count.
"The strong know how to break the heart of a would-be rebel. No matter how they claim that they will only be martyrs... it is only ever a matter of time until you've kicked the fight out of an entire company. And once they've stopped fighting you...?"
The scenes shift again, now showing Ethan winning Championship Belt after Championship Belt, the crowds no longer booing him - but chanting along with his song.
"They crown you."
The screen goes black once more.
"But when you're coming to a new company, and there are no kings to break? Then they tactic is the same... only more broad. You don't have the ability to focus on one man..."
The clips change again. Now they are showing lightning-fast clips different men. Satoshi Tenryu. Max Ramsey. HardKore. Taane. Hungry Jack. Killian Kold. Rudolph Samson.
Muru. Waylon Stokes. Lucas Walker.
Spike Kane.
"... Instead, you kick the fight out of anyone who steps up to their new king."
Finally, Ethan King himself fades into view, sitting at a desk with his face partially in shadow wearing what looks like a ridiculously expensive suit. He leans forward, latticing his fingers together.
"Gentlemen. Welcome to my coronation day."
There was a beautiful, crystalline chime as the two glasses clinked together in toast, the light of the Kyoto sunset dancing through both the artful curves of the glasses and the amber beverage they held. Husband and wife smiled at one another, sitting at a full table in an otherwise empty apartment - every piece of furniture and decoration gone save the table, the chairs, the glasses and dinner settings, and the food that rested there. The meal was elaborate and expensive. A plate of fresh toro. Wagyu beef with matsutake mushrooms. A yubari king melon, cubed and soaked in sweetened milk. A bottle of 18-year Yamazaki Single-Malt. Even for them, the meal was expensive - but Ethan wanted to ensure that their last night in their apartment in Japan, their home for the last 5 years, was something truly special.
"You thought it all out," Gwen hummed with a smile as she sipped the expensive whiskey. She would savor it for now, until the food was finished. Once that was gone and only single-malt remained, she would surely drink harder - it wasn't as though they could take the bottle with them on the plane.
Ethan grinned. "Don't I always?"
Gwen nodded. "You certainly try to..." she paused for a moment as she looked at the table-spread. "I'll miss this. I'll miss Japan. When you dragged me out here five years ago I didn't think that I'd come to love it here as much as I have..."
"You're wondering if it will all be worth it. Moving back to the States."
Gwen shrugged. "Maybe. I guess Boston just seems like something of a step down from here."
Ethan laughed. "Oh, I don't disagree. But if there's one thing we can count on its being able to make the best of whatever city we live in. One of the benefits of being my wife, isn't it?"
Gwen let out a small laugh, amused. "That and many other benefits..." she admitted.
Ethan took a deep breath and set down his glass, looking his wife plainly in the eyes. No room for bullshit - just honesty. "When we met, it was an adventure. When we got married, I made a promise to you that the adventure would never end. I promised you from that day through to the end of your life, we'd see the world and never settle for second best. Would you really want to sit down and just... stay somewhere for the rest of your life? The whole world is open to you."
Gwen smiled and almost purred at the memory, taking another sip from her glass. "Not forever. I just imagined something a little more glamorous than Boston."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Have you ever been to Boston?"
"No."
"It's a beautiful city. Rich in history. And it has plenty for the two of us to do. Besides..." He took her hand in his and gave it a light squeeze. "There'll be plenty for you to do. I got you a present."
He reached down to a briefcase nearby and pulled a small manila folder from within. He slid it across the table to Gwen, who eyed it suspiciously. After a moment, she carefully opened it.
She blinked. "Is this...?"
"A contract. Unsigned, of course. I wouldn't take the choice from you. But since I'm getting in on the ground floor of this company I knew you might want the same. I know how bored you'd be if you didn't get to legally pound someone into mincemeat every once and a while."
Gwen looked at him and beamed. "I thought the offer was just for you?"
Ethan shrugged. "I negotiated. Aggressively."
Gwen laughed and immediately stood, walking around the table before sitting in Ethan's lap, straddling him as she leaned down for an intensely passionate kiss. After a few moments she pulled back, grinning. "It's a shame we already got rid of the bed," she purred.
Ethan grinned. " That's what the hotel booking is for," he replied.
"You really do think of everything."
Ethan tilts his head slightly to the side. "Confident? Perhaps. Overly so? You might think so... And I suspect all three of you will make every attempt to prove as much. After all, what chances do you think I have, really? I acknowledge, of course, that compared to Combat Wrestling, the companies that I previously reigned over were small and barely worth attention. The names in charge of this company are legend compared to those who held sway over my previous contracts. Some of you even have experience in other companies of similar prestige. I wonder if that means you'll underestimate me? Just a 'small-time competitor' from 'small-time-federations'. Clearly I'm barely worth your attention. Perhaps, despite my bluster, I'm just here to learn. It can't possibly be as though I'm here to grind you all down and force you all to bend the knee."
He smirks and shakes his head. "Perhaps you think that when I face the crucible of a Fatal Four Way match such as the one in which I am booked, I might choke. I might not live up to the hype behind my name. Maybe you think you're safe from this man who hails only from lesser companies - because clearly I've never been in a real fight in my life. Having studied you... I actually wouldn't be remotely surprised if you were, in fact, that staggeringly moronic."
He untangles his fingers and crosses his hands over his lap, out of view of the camera. "We've never met. But we will. I'm sure you all already know precisely who I am, if only by reputation. Perhaps, once, we did meet... in the ring, in the street... if we did, then you clearly didn't manage to make any sort of impression. When I read your names on the match card for my Combat Wrestling debut, your names meant nothing to me."
He arches an eyebrow. "After studying your resumes... that hasn't even remotely changed."
He shakes his head very slightly as he leans back in his chair, smirking confidently. "Muru. So much for The Greatest Return, hm? Oh, yes, I saw your little run in the IWF, full of hopes and prayers that you might be able to make a splash among that rabble of degenerate thugs. From the looks of things you failed to accomplish even that, and now you've come scrambling here out of hopes that perhaps you might be able to wash off the stench of your failures to establish your name. So what would this be, then? Your... second 'last chance to do something good before you hang up the belt'? Third? There could be dozens more failed attempts in companies and promotions beneath my attention, but in the end I don't really care how many times you've tried. What matters is that each of those times, you've failed - otherwise you wouldn't be here trying yet again. No matter what you do, Muru - even if you scrub yourself until you bleed from your pores to rid yourself of the aroma of your failures, you will never be able to purge yourself of the mediocrity that runs through your veins in lieu of blood. The only accomplishment of significance that you have to your name is the stunning achievement of being able to be a has-been who never was anything to begin with. To me, you are nothing more than a pathetic creature that makes me cringe to look upon, and I hope that it will take as few beatings as possible before you finally give up and accept that you will always be beneath men like me."
He lets out a long, disparaging sigh. "But for all those flaws, Muru, and there are so very many, at least you're not a blundering self-described savage. Waylon Stokes. What forgotten asylum did they drag you out of? Wherever it was, they should have left you there. It would have been better for you. I'm sure you think you're little flurry of wrath and ruin has given you the mystique you needed to intimidate lesser men. After all, clearly foaming at the mouth and calling yourself a sadistic savage will keep anyone from fighting you, right? The fear of the pain you'll inflict on them and those around them enough to give your opponents pause?" He rolls his eyes. "And I thought Muru was pathetic. A history lesson, Mr. Stokes. In history, even ancient history, very little actual military success has gone to those who just paint themselves up as bloodthirsty savages. It is not blind ferocity, Waylon, but strategy, skill and tactics that have been the deciding factor in wars since the bronze age. I always enjoy fighting men like you, Waylon. There is very little more satisfying than fighting a man who claims to be a savage animal and putting my boot on their throat, reminding them the place of beasts in comparison to men. Your kind always break easily, Waylon, and you will be no different - I will drive you into the dirt, put you on a leash, and show you why discipline conquers savagery every time. So endeth the lesson."
At last, he once again leans forward. "Which leads me to the last of you. This... Lucas Walker. I'm beginning to think that Spike Kane was more desperate than he let on to fill seats in his new little project, given the evidence presented. A mediocre washout, an unhinged lunatic... and someone who, I can only imagine, he met when he almost ran him over while lost in the back-roads of someplace where you accelerate at the sound of banjos. Lucas Walker... you do realize that this is a Professional Wrestling company, right? This isn't a special indoor game reserve for you to start shooting deer - though I suppose Waylon is close enough to being a wild animal, and he may even be rabid. I've met your type before as well, Walker - men who have come to rely so much on your natural size and strength, thinking that your 'natural assets' put you on the same level as your betters. I cannot even count the number of amateurs I've put down who thought they could make it with enough height, enough brawn, or enough guts. I'll never understand those who think that the last one is enough to carry them, but it seems that you're another of those starry-eyed dreamers who thinks that with a big enough heart and a weird enough face, you can reach the top of this industry. You should wake up, Lucas, before it's too late. You might think that fighting for your family makes it somehow magically harder to take you down, Lucas... but if that were true, I wouldn't have had nearly as much success as I have. All that matters, in the end, is skill and steel - and compared to you, I have far more of both at my disposal."
He stands and adjusts his suit, cracking his neck. "I hope that in the future I'll have some more interesting competition the main events of this company. I won't offer lying platitudes and say that I'm looking forward to seeing you three in the ring. The only thing I'm looking forward to is getting this over with so that I can move on to breaking down people who actually matter - and you three? Will never be that."
The video package opens on a black screen, winter winds howling softly in the background. After a few moments, Ethan's voice begins to speak with a slow deliberation.
"I find that first impressions are always of profound importance."
as a sequence of clips from various promotions around the world. From Ethan King's in-ring professional wrestling debut in an independent show in Green Bay, to later matches in his career across the globe, many of them in Japan.
"Were this an established company, the answer would be easier. Find your kings, and rip them from their thrones. It's the same here as it is in business. When introducing yourself to a new company, you make sure to make the heaviest statement you can be humbling the biggest dog in the yard."
The theme of the clips shift. Savage attacks on champions of their respective companies. Ruthless ambushes backstage. Blood dripping from Ethan's silver-gilded brass knuckles. Broken men laying prone in the ring. Commentators exclaiming shock at what they have just witnessed.
"Of course, breaking idols and heroes is bound to earn you resistance... at first."
The scenes shift again. People standing up to Ethan King. Wrestlers and challengers rallying the crowd behind them as they decry all of Ethan's brutal and underhanded tactics. Entire factions standing up to him, sometimes preventing him from continuing a beatdown. Ethan never flinches away from them, even as they gang up on him to bring him down.
"Defiance. It is the natural reaction to command. The weak cannot adapt to it, and crumble away in fear... but the strong?"
Shots of one of the same men who was standing against Ethan in a previous clip getting run down by a limousine in a parking lot. Another being assaulted in the locker room, the force of his head's impact leaving a crater in a locker's door. Ethan pinning another of them, blood dripping from his knuckles as he disdainfully steps on his sternum for the three-count.
"The strong know how to break the heart of a would-be rebel. No matter how they claim that they will only be martyrs... it is only ever a matter of time until you've kicked the fight out of an entire company. And once they've stopped fighting you...?"
The scenes shift again, now showing Ethan winning Championship Belt after Championship Belt, the crowds no longer booing him - but chanting along with his song.
"They crown you."
The screen goes black once more.
"But when you're coming to a new company, and there are no kings to break? Then they tactic is the same... only more broad. You don't have the ability to focus on one man..."
The clips change again. Now they are showing lightning-fast clips different men. Satoshi Tenryu. Max Ramsey. HardKore. Taane. Hungry Jack. Killian Kold. Rudolph Samson.
Muru. Waylon Stokes. Lucas Walker.
Spike Kane.
"... Instead, you kick the fight out of anyone who steps up to their new king."
Finally, Ethan King himself fades into view, sitting at a desk with his face partially in shadow wearing what looks like a ridiculously expensive suit. He leans forward, latticing his fingers together.
"Gentlemen. Welcome to my coronation day."
There was a beautiful, crystalline chime as the two glasses clinked together in toast, the light of the Kyoto sunset dancing through both the artful curves of the glasses and the amber beverage they held. Husband and wife smiled at one another, sitting at a full table in an otherwise empty apartment - every piece of furniture and decoration gone save the table, the chairs, the glasses and dinner settings, and the food that rested there. The meal was elaborate and expensive. A plate of fresh toro. Wagyu beef with matsutake mushrooms. A yubari king melon, cubed and soaked in sweetened milk. A bottle of 18-year Yamazaki Single-Malt. Even for them, the meal was expensive - but Ethan wanted to ensure that their last night in their apartment in Japan, their home for the last 5 years, was something truly special.
"You thought it all out," Gwen hummed with a smile as she sipped the expensive whiskey. She would savor it for now, until the food was finished. Once that was gone and only single-malt remained, she would surely drink harder - it wasn't as though they could take the bottle with them on the plane.
Ethan grinned. "Don't I always?"
Gwen nodded. "You certainly try to..." she paused for a moment as she looked at the table-spread. "I'll miss this. I'll miss Japan. When you dragged me out here five years ago I didn't think that I'd come to love it here as much as I have..."
"You're wondering if it will all be worth it. Moving back to the States."
Gwen shrugged. "Maybe. I guess Boston just seems like something of a step down from here."
Ethan laughed. "Oh, I don't disagree. But if there's one thing we can count on its being able to make the best of whatever city we live in. One of the benefits of being my wife, isn't it?"
Gwen let out a small laugh, amused. "That and many other benefits..." she admitted.
Ethan took a deep breath and set down his glass, looking his wife plainly in the eyes. No room for bullshit - just honesty. "When we met, it was an adventure. When we got married, I made a promise to you that the adventure would never end. I promised you from that day through to the end of your life, we'd see the world and never settle for second best. Would you really want to sit down and just... stay somewhere for the rest of your life? The whole world is open to you."
Gwen smiled and almost purred at the memory, taking another sip from her glass. "Not forever. I just imagined something a little more glamorous than Boston."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Have you ever been to Boston?"
"No."
"It's a beautiful city. Rich in history. And it has plenty for the two of us to do. Besides..." He took her hand in his and gave it a light squeeze. "There'll be plenty for you to do. I got you a present."
He reached down to a briefcase nearby and pulled a small manila folder from within. He slid it across the table to Gwen, who eyed it suspiciously. After a moment, she carefully opened it.
She blinked. "Is this...?"
"A contract. Unsigned, of course. I wouldn't take the choice from you. But since I'm getting in on the ground floor of this company I knew you might want the same. I know how bored you'd be if you didn't get to legally pound someone into mincemeat every once and a while."
Gwen looked at him and beamed. "I thought the offer was just for you?"
Ethan shrugged. "I negotiated. Aggressively."
Gwen laughed and immediately stood, walking around the table before sitting in Ethan's lap, straddling him as she leaned down for an intensely passionate kiss. After a few moments she pulled back, grinning. "It's a shame we already got rid of the bed," she purred.
Ethan grinned. " That's what the hotel booking is for," he replied.
"You really do think of everything."
Ethan tilts his head slightly to the side. "Confident? Perhaps. Overly so? You might think so... And I suspect all three of you will make every attempt to prove as much. After all, what chances do you think I have, really? I acknowledge, of course, that compared to Combat Wrestling, the companies that I previously reigned over were small and barely worth attention. The names in charge of this company are legend compared to those who held sway over my previous contracts. Some of you even have experience in other companies of similar prestige. I wonder if that means you'll underestimate me? Just a 'small-time competitor' from 'small-time-federations'. Clearly I'm barely worth your attention. Perhaps, despite my bluster, I'm just here to learn. It can't possibly be as though I'm here to grind you all down and force you all to bend the knee."
He smirks and shakes his head. "Perhaps you think that when I face the crucible of a Fatal Four Way match such as the one in which I am booked, I might choke. I might not live up to the hype behind my name. Maybe you think you're safe from this man who hails only from lesser companies - because clearly I've never been in a real fight in my life. Having studied you... I actually wouldn't be remotely surprised if you were, in fact, that staggeringly moronic."
He untangles his fingers and crosses his hands over his lap, out of view of the camera. "We've never met. But we will. I'm sure you all already know precisely who I am, if only by reputation. Perhaps, once, we did meet... in the ring, in the street... if we did, then you clearly didn't manage to make any sort of impression. When I read your names on the match card for my Combat Wrestling debut, your names meant nothing to me."
He arches an eyebrow. "After studying your resumes... that hasn't even remotely changed."
He shakes his head very slightly as he leans back in his chair, smirking confidently. "Muru. So much for The Greatest Return, hm? Oh, yes, I saw your little run in the IWF, full of hopes and prayers that you might be able to make a splash among that rabble of degenerate thugs. From the looks of things you failed to accomplish even that, and now you've come scrambling here out of hopes that perhaps you might be able to wash off the stench of your failures to establish your name. So what would this be, then? Your... second 'last chance to do something good before you hang up the belt'? Third? There could be dozens more failed attempts in companies and promotions beneath my attention, but in the end I don't really care how many times you've tried. What matters is that each of those times, you've failed - otherwise you wouldn't be here trying yet again. No matter what you do, Muru - even if you scrub yourself until you bleed from your pores to rid yourself of the aroma of your failures, you will never be able to purge yourself of the mediocrity that runs through your veins in lieu of blood. The only accomplishment of significance that you have to your name is the stunning achievement of being able to be a has-been who never was anything to begin with. To me, you are nothing more than a pathetic creature that makes me cringe to look upon, and I hope that it will take as few beatings as possible before you finally give up and accept that you will always be beneath men like me."
He lets out a long, disparaging sigh. "But for all those flaws, Muru, and there are so very many, at least you're not a blundering self-described savage. Waylon Stokes. What forgotten asylum did they drag you out of? Wherever it was, they should have left you there. It would have been better for you. I'm sure you think you're little flurry of wrath and ruin has given you the mystique you needed to intimidate lesser men. After all, clearly foaming at the mouth and calling yourself a sadistic savage will keep anyone from fighting you, right? The fear of the pain you'll inflict on them and those around them enough to give your opponents pause?" He rolls his eyes. "And I thought Muru was pathetic. A history lesson, Mr. Stokes. In history, even ancient history, very little actual military success has gone to those who just paint themselves up as bloodthirsty savages. It is not blind ferocity, Waylon, but strategy, skill and tactics that have been the deciding factor in wars since the bronze age. I always enjoy fighting men like you, Waylon. There is very little more satisfying than fighting a man who claims to be a savage animal and putting my boot on their throat, reminding them the place of beasts in comparison to men. Your kind always break easily, Waylon, and you will be no different - I will drive you into the dirt, put you on a leash, and show you why discipline conquers savagery every time. So endeth the lesson."
At last, he once again leans forward. "Which leads me to the last of you. This... Lucas Walker. I'm beginning to think that Spike Kane was more desperate than he let on to fill seats in his new little project, given the evidence presented. A mediocre washout, an unhinged lunatic... and someone who, I can only imagine, he met when he almost ran him over while lost in the back-roads of someplace where you accelerate at the sound of banjos. Lucas Walker... you do realize that this is a Professional Wrestling company, right? This isn't a special indoor game reserve for you to start shooting deer - though I suppose Waylon is close enough to being a wild animal, and he may even be rabid. I've met your type before as well, Walker - men who have come to rely so much on your natural size and strength, thinking that your 'natural assets' put you on the same level as your betters. I cannot even count the number of amateurs I've put down who thought they could make it with enough height, enough brawn, or enough guts. I'll never understand those who think that the last one is enough to carry them, but it seems that you're another of those starry-eyed dreamers who thinks that with a big enough heart and a weird enough face, you can reach the top of this industry. You should wake up, Lucas, before it's too late. You might think that fighting for your family makes it somehow magically harder to take you down, Lucas... but if that were true, I wouldn't have had nearly as much success as I have. All that matters, in the end, is skill and steel - and compared to you, I have far more of both at my disposal."
He stands and adjusts his suit, cracking his neck. "I hope that in the future I'll have some more interesting competition the main events of this company. I won't offer lying platitudes and say that I'm looking forward to seeing you three in the ring. The only thing I'm looking forward to is getting this over with so that I can move on to breaking down people who actually matter - and you three? Will never be that."