Post by sam on Sept 9, 2013 10:36:42 GMT -6
Tokyo.
Dusk was beginning to settle over the 'Land of the Rising Sun,' which meant that it was time for Sam to get up. He had a long trip ahead of him, and it did him no good to be late. With his alarm buzzing on his side of the bed, he reached his brawny hand over and fumbled around for the snooze button.
Izumi, the beautiful Japanese tour guide laying across his chest, stirred awake.
"Mornin'." He brushed back her hair.
She looked at the clock. "It's almost 6pm. What do you mean, 'mornin'?"
Izumi and Sam quickly realized the hoarseness of her voice.
"Wow, I sound bad." She chuckled. "All your fault."
"How's it my fault?" He asked. "What I do to you?"
"Mmm...everything." She straddled him, with a satisfied smile on her face. Her small hands grazed his muscular chest. "Everything and thensome."
"So you'll look me up next time you're in New York, right?" Sam placed his hands around her waist. "I'm convinced you can hit higher notes than you did this afternoon."
She leaned in and kissed him, "Maybe I will....Sammy."
His eyes narrowed in on her. "I never told you my name."
"You didn't have to. Your build, and the tattoo of the dragon fighting the tiger on your back gave you away." Izumi brushed her hair back. "You're Japan's Vale Tudo Grand Champion."
He just stared at her.
"Of course, that's not all you are is it?" She continued. "The underground call you--"
"Alright...you know me." He interrupted. "So what was this? Me...You...?"
"Just sex." Izumi said. "I've seen you fight before. You fight passionately, and I admit, it's gets a girl wondering what else can you do passionately. From the sound of my voice, I got my answer, didn't I."
"Three times, you got your answer." Sam chimed.
"Four, but who's counting?" Izumi winked. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure, but I'm under no obligation to answer." Sam responded.
"Why are you leaving?"
"Cause I have to." Sam sat up looking her in her eyes. "That simple."
"What will you do in the States? I mean, sure you can fight MMA, but it's not what you're used to." Izumi probed.
She stood up and walked into the bathroom. Sam reached into his bag pulling out a flyer from Exodus Pro Wrestling mailed to him from New York. On it, it advertised free tryouts. There was a sticky note attached to it, which read "New York still loves you...Start Over." Sam put it back into his bag, it was the furthest thing from his mind at this time.
He looked over at the custom made white suit hanging up in his closet.
"Goin' back home means that I gotta say good bye, to you." Sam's eyes lowered somberly. He pulled out his cell and scrolled to a picture. "Don't know if I'm ready to do that yet. But in 15 hours I won't have a choice, right?"
Izumi popped her head out the bathroom, steam behind her. "Why don't we conserve water, and shower together?"
"Good Idea, my flight leaves at 7pm." Sam answered as walked towards the bathroom.
"Good." She opened the door. "You get in there, I'll meet you in a moment. Just wanna get my clothes laid out. I have a tour at 7pm from the airport myself."
Sam slipped by her and walked into the bathroom, entering the shower. Izumi slid out and closed the door. She laid her clothes on the bed--the ones she was planning to wear during her tour.
Her phone rang.
"This is Izumi." She answered. When she heard the voice on the phone, she walked inside the kitchen, lowering her voice. "Yeah, I did what you told me to. He's going back to New York. Looks like one of your top enforcers is thinking about staying there for good..."
Her face turned serious.
"Understood...bye." She hung up her phone.
"You aight out there?" Sam popped his head out from the bathroom.
"Yeah, caught a call that's all." She smiled, placing her phone back in her purse. "I'll be in there in a second."
As Sam stepped back into the shower, Izumi said aloud to herself.
"And so it begins, Sammy."
[_+_]
Years Ago.
The Avenue--Jamaica, Queens.
It's a day he'd never forget. The moment that he was promised to remember as a sign that he had finally matured.
Summer was in the air, as May faded into June. Sam was en route to becoming a senior in high school, but first, it was time to--in his words--'hold summer hostage'. In Sam-speak that meant having as much fun as humanly possible before senior year came to interrupt it.
He'd do it following his two passions in life...
Girls & Fighting.
On this particular day, evening was beginning to settle in; and in this part of Queens, Whodini's classic smash single was all too true:
'The Freaks Come Out at Night'
Sam walked alongside the man who had been like a father to him, the man who trained him in the martial arts, Master Buakaw "Bruce" Inoue. Even then, Sam really learned to treasure these walks and talks after losing his own father in a horrendous car accident when he was 10 years old.
Master Inoue, as Sam calls him, always seemed to have a nugget of wisdom to give him.
"Thanks for buying me these new gloves, Master Inoue. I kinda wore out my last pair." a 16-year old Sam sheepishly smiled. He and him mom were on hard times.
"Don't worry about it." Inoue smiled. "Pay me back with a win this summer."
"No doubt, Master Inoue. I got the fight game on lockdown, word is bond." Sam declared boldly.
Sam was wearing a white t-shirt with "Queens 7" on the front of it in blue lettering, baggy blue jeans, fresh Timberland boots, and a white du-rag. Inoue wore a red Polo Shirt with khakis.
"Have you heard from Elizabeth?" Master Inoue asked.
Sam eyes turned serious, before looking away. "Who, Jeanie? Nope. Don't care either."
"Ahhhh...young love." Inoue chuckled.
At that point, a scraggly passerby bumped Master Inoue to the ground. The passerby kept running.
"Master Inoue, you aight?" Sam helped him up.
"Yeah I--" He patted himself down. "He took my wallet."
"Word?!" Sam took off in pursuit.
'The Avenue' as it's come to be called, is the most popular spot in Jamaica, Queens. At any given time, the sidewalks are filled to capacity with people, thanks to its strategic location as a hub for The E train, the Long Island Railroad, various other public transportation. Point being that tonight was a prime example of the disadvantage of trying to make a getaway while ducking and dodging your way through hundreds of people.
For this scraggly thief, it would be a painful lesson.
Sam, knowing the lay of the land, ran in the empty biker's lane in the street; eventually getting ahead of him. Soon after, the scraggly thief, literally ran his solar plexus into Sam's fist.
"Here, I--I'm sorry." The thief held out the wallet.
"Gimme dat." Sam snatched the wallet and placed it in his pocket. "Nah, we ain't done here. Git yo' ass over here!"
Sam dug into the thief with a left body hook, and overhand right. When Sam buried a right leg roundhouse kick into the thief's knee, the thief buckled. He cut the thief open with a perfectly placed elbow to the temple.
"Alright...please." The thief pleaded.
It was a plea on deaf ears. Sam was in the throes of unleashing his full, unbridled Muay Thai fury. He locked the thief in a clinch, and unleashed a barrage of knees.
"You gon' take this...thorough ass whoopin'!" Sam, still holding on to the clinch, circled to his left. He pressed the attack further. "Beat yo'....muthafuckin' ass...nigga!"
By now a crowd had formed around Sam and the thief. Sam released the clinch, nailing the the thief with a brutal uppercut, and followed with an equally brutal roundhouse kick to the thief's liver. With the thief on his knees, both in pain and vulnerable, Sam prepared to deliver the final blow--a roundhouse kick to the thief's head that may have proven to be fatal.
"Sam...stop!" Master Inoue yelled.
He was in mid motion when he heard Inoue call out to him. Growling, with his shin mere inches from the thief's head, Sam put his leg down. He handed Master Inoue back his wallet.
"If so much as a nickel is missing from his wallet..." Sam hissed at the thief.
"I said, that's enough." Master Inoue hailed a taxi. "Get in. Now."
When Sam got in the cab, Master Inoue went to the thief and placed his hand on his shoulder. With a smile, he opened his wallet and gave him $200 dollars.
"Use it wisely." He said warmly to the thief.
While in the cab, Sam held on to the new gloves purchased for him by Master Inoue. For the first few minutes, the ride was quiet, as Sam regained his composure. He looked over at Master Inoue, and his eyes became somber.
"I did it again, didn't I?" Sam asked rhetorically, clutching harder to the gloves. "But why did you give him money?"
"Because he needed it." Master Inoue answered intuitively. "He pickpocketed me, then ran; not out of fear for me, but guilt for his actions."
"I--I don't understand."
"Compassion, son." Master Inoue began. "Strength without compassion will never be Power. I look at everything, including what I read in the papers about this Daimu fellow, and wonder where he could have been in life if someone showed him compassion..."
Sam was wise enough to let Master Inoue continue uninterrupted.
"...so there it is Sam. Compassion. Strength can always be overmatched. Power, true power cannot. Add compassion to your strength and you will always be powerful."
"Yes, sir." Sam nodded.
"Sir." Inoue replied.
"Yeah, that's what I said, 'Sir'." Sam repeated.
Sir...
Sir.....
Sir.....
Presently.
"Sir..."
"SIR!!!!" He yelled. "We're here."
Sam snapped awake, handing the cab driver a crisp $20 bill. "Sorry man, must've dozed off."
Sam stepped out of the cab, and onto the sidewalk. Dressed handsomely in a custom fit White suit, and orange tie, he looked on at the Allen AME Cathedral. Even after all these years, the size of the cathedral still blows him away.
"Here I am." He said as he put his blue tinted Shield Aviator shades on. "Let's do it."
He walked up the series of steps and into the cathedral, entering the sanctuary.
"Is there another one?" The minister said. "Anybody else?"
Sam raised his hand, walking down the aisle. Upon seeing Sam, the minister gasped. When Sam made his way down the aisle, everyone gasped as well.
It's been 4 years since he's been home.
Whether it was everybody clapping that made Sam cry or the sight of the white casket in front of him is open for debate.
This and only this could have brought him home.
"Um...my name is Sam. And I--I'm here to pay my respects to Master Inoue. He told me once that if this day should ever come that me and his other students were to wear white as a sign that he is at rest." Sam wiped his eyes. "What I'll miss most about him, was the way he embraced life; always learning in life, even though we called him 'Master'. There was always new wisdom to gain, always more lessons to learn..."
Sam's eyes looked upwards.
"...He never gave up on me, even when I gave him plenty of reason to." Sam paused to hold back more tears. "I just wish I could tell him 'thank you', one last time. Orasumi, arigato gozai masu Inoue-san."
He stepped down from the microphone, and took another look at Master Inoue in the coffin. Kissing his own fingers, he placed them on forehead of the lifeless shell that once housed the spirit of the man that taught him everything.
Later...
The church had laid out a very nice spread for Master Inoue's family and friends. Sam however, just couldn't partake in the fellowship. Needing to be alone, he unbuttoned his jacket and stood outside, soaking in the peace and quiet like a sponge.
Of course, that wouldn't last.
"You know, he never did give up on you."
Sam turned around to see his best friend, and sometime rival, Detective Ron Steward of the NYPD.
Ron smiled. "None of us did, bruh. I mean, he always knew you would come home. Even with.....everything else."
Sam raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Maybe it's all the emotion in the air, but are you coming at me as my best friend or Detective Ronald Steward?"
"Probably a little of both, Sam." Ron answered, he stepped in front of him and placed his hands on Sam's shoulders. "I know you probably heard about how he died, and trust me I want his murder resolved as much as you do. But you gotta let me do this my way; by the book."
"I can't promise you that." Sam shrugged his shoulders.
"You're gonna have to, Sam." Ron folded his arms. "Especially in light of how interested my superiors are in the fact that a top enforcer for Japan's Crime Syndicate suddenly shows up in the States on the day of Master Inoue's funeral."
"My time in Japan has nothing to do with this." Sam defended himself.
"It has everything to do with this!" Detective Steward barked.
"Well, well, well...A pleasure to see not much has changed since we were kids." A voice chided them from their blindside.
They turned to see her walking up towards them. She was dressed in a form fitting white one-piece skirt and orange Prada pumps.
"Jeanie..." Sam and Ron said in unison.
Enter Elizabeth Jeannine Riviera.
The woman who will turn Sam's life around...
"Let's do dinner." She said sweetly, holding another Exodus Pro Tryout flyer in front of her. "It's called Exodus Pro, Sam. I think the wrestling world is ready for you again."
...even if it kills him.
Dusk was beginning to settle over the 'Land of the Rising Sun,' which meant that it was time for Sam to get up. He had a long trip ahead of him, and it did him no good to be late. With his alarm buzzing on his side of the bed, he reached his brawny hand over and fumbled around for the snooze button.
Izumi, the beautiful Japanese tour guide laying across his chest, stirred awake.
"Mornin'." He brushed back her hair.
She looked at the clock. "It's almost 6pm. What do you mean, 'mornin'?"
Izumi and Sam quickly realized the hoarseness of her voice.
"Wow, I sound bad." She chuckled. "All your fault."
"How's it my fault?" He asked. "What I do to you?"
"Mmm...everything." She straddled him, with a satisfied smile on her face. Her small hands grazed his muscular chest. "Everything and thensome."
"So you'll look me up next time you're in New York, right?" Sam placed his hands around her waist. "I'm convinced you can hit higher notes than you did this afternoon."
She leaned in and kissed him, "Maybe I will....Sammy."
His eyes narrowed in on her. "I never told you my name."
"You didn't have to. Your build, and the tattoo of the dragon fighting the tiger on your back gave you away." Izumi brushed her hair back. "You're Japan's Vale Tudo Grand Champion."
He just stared at her.
"Of course, that's not all you are is it?" She continued. "The underground call you--"
"Alright...you know me." He interrupted. "So what was this? Me...You...?"
"Just sex." Izumi said. "I've seen you fight before. You fight passionately, and I admit, it's gets a girl wondering what else can you do passionately. From the sound of my voice, I got my answer, didn't I."
"Three times, you got your answer." Sam chimed.
"Four, but who's counting?" Izumi winked. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure, but I'm under no obligation to answer." Sam responded.
"Why are you leaving?"
"Cause I have to." Sam sat up looking her in her eyes. "That simple."
"What will you do in the States? I mean, sure you can fight MMA, but it's not what you're used to." Izumi probed.
She stood up and walked into the bathroom. Sam reached into his bag pulling out a flyer from Exodus Pro Wrestling mailed to him from New York. On it, it advertised free tryouts. There was a sticky note attached to it, which read "New York still loves you...Start Over." Sam put it back into his bag, it was the furthest thing from his mind at this time.
He looked over at the custom made white suit hanging up in his closet.
"Goin' back home means that I gotta say good bye, to you." Sam's eyes lowered somberly. He pulled out his cell and scrolled to a picture. "Don't know if I'm ready to do that yet. But in 15 hours I won't have a choice, right?"
Izumi popped her head out the bathroom, steam behind her. "Why don't we conserve water, and shower together?"
"Good Idea, my flight leaves at 7pm." Sam answered as walked towards the bathroom.
"Good." She opened the door. "You get in there, I'll meet you in a moment. Just wanna get my clothes laid out. I have a tour at 7pm from the airport myself."
Sam slipped by her and walked into the bathroom, entering the shower. Izumi slid out and closed the door. She laid her clothes on the bed--the ones she was planning to wear during her tour.
Her phone rang.
"This is Izumi." She answered. When she heard the voice on the phone, she walked inside the kitchen, lowering her voice. "Yeah, I did what you told me to. He's going back to New York. Looks like one of your top enforcers is thinking about staying there for good..."
Her face turned serious.
"Understood...bye." She hung up her phone.
"You aight out there?" Sam popped his head out from the bathroom.
"Yeah, caught a call that's all." She smiled, placing her phone back in her purse. "I'll be in there in a second."
As Sam stepped back into the shower, Izumi said aloud to herself.
"And so it begins, Sammy."
[_+_]
Years Ago.
The Avenue--Jamaica, Queens.
It's a day he'd never forget. The moment that he was promised to remember as a sign that he had finally matured.
Summer was in the air, as May faded into June. Sam was en route to becoming a senior in high school, but first, it was time to--in his words--'hold summer hostage'. In Sam-speak that meant having as much fun as humanly possible before senior year came to interrupt it.
He'd do it following his two passions in life...
Girls & Fighting.
On this particular day, evening was beginning to settle in; and in this part of Queens, Whodini's classic smash single was all too true:
'The Freaks Come Out at Night'
Sam walked alongside the man who had been like a father to him, the man who trained him in the martial arts, Master Buakaw "Bruce" Inoue. Even then, Sam really learned to treasure these walks and talks after losing his own father in a horrendous car accident when he was 10 years old.
Master Inoue, as Sam calls him, always seemed to have a nugget of wisdom to give him.
"Thanks for buying me these new gloves, Master Inoue. I kinda wore out my last pair." a 16-year old Sam sheepishly smiled. He and him mom were on hard times.
"Don't worry about it." Inoue smiled. "Pay me back with a win this summer."
"No doubt, Master Inoue. I got the fight game on lockdown, word is bond." Sam declared boldly.
Sam was wearing a white t-shirt with "Queens 7" on the front of it in blue lettering, baggy blue jeans, fresh Timberland boots, and a white du-rag. Inoue wore a red Polo Shirt with khakis.
"Have you heard from Elizabeth?" Master Inoue asked.
Sam eyes turned serious, before looking away. "Who, Jeanie? Nope. Don't care either."
"Ahhhh...young love." Inoue chuckled.
At that point, a scraggly passerby bumped Master Inoue to the ground. The passerby kept running.
"Master Inoue, you aight?" Sam helped him up.
"Yeah I--" He patted himself down. "He took my wallet."
"Word?!" Sam took off in pursuit.
'The Avenue' as it's come to be called, is the most popular spot in Jamaica, Queens. At any given time, the sidewalks are filled to capacity with people, thanks to its strategic location as a hub for The E train, the Long Island Railroad, various other public transportation. Point being that tonight was a prime example of the disadvantage of trying to make a getaway while ducking and dodging your way through hundreds of people.
For this scraggly thief, it would be a painful lesson.
Sam, knowing the lay of the land, ran in the empty biker's lane in the street; eventually getting ahead of him. Soon after, the scraggly thief, literally ran his solar plexus into Sam's fist.
"Here, I--I'm sorry." The thief held out the wallet.
"Gimme dat." Sam snatched the wallet and placed it in his pocket. "Nah, we ain't done here. Git yo' ass over here!"
Sam dug into the thief with a left body hook, and overhand right. When Sam buried a right leg roundhouse kick into the thief's knee, the thief buckled. He cut the thief open with a perfectly placed elbow to the temple.
"Alright...please." The thief pleaded.
It was a plea on deaf ears. Sam was in the throes of unleashing his full, unbridled Muay Thai fury. He locked the thief in a clinch, and unleashed a barrage of knees.
"You gon' take this...thorough ass whoopin'!" Sam, still holding on to the clinch, circled to his left. He pressed the attack further. "Beat yo'....muthafuckin' ass...nigga!"
By now a crowd had formed around Sam and the thief. Sam released the clinch, nailing the the thief with a brutal uppercut, and followed with an equally brutal roundhouse kick to the thief's liver. With the thief on his knees, both in pain and vulnerable, Sam prepared to deliver the final blow--a roundhouse kick to the thief's head that may have proven to be fatal.
"Sam...stop!" Master Inoue yelled.
He was in mid motion when he heard Inoue call out to him. Growling, with his shin mere inches from the thief's head, Sam put his leg down. He handed Master Inoue back his wallet.
"If so much as a nickel is missing from his wallet..." Sam hissed at the thief.
"I said, that's enough." Master Inoue hailed a taxi. "Get in. Now."
When Sam got in the cab, Master Inoue went to the thief and placed his hand on his shoulder. With a smile, he opened his wallet and gave him $200 dollars.
"Use it wisely." He said warmly to the thief.
While in the cab, Sam held on to the new gloves purchased for him by Master Inoue. For the first few minutes, the ride was quiet, as Sam regained his composure. He looked over at Master Inoue, and his eyes became somber.
"I did it again, didn't I?" Sam asked rhetorically, clutching harder to the gloves. "But why did you give him money?"
"Because he needed it." Master Inoue answered intuitively. "He pickpocketed me, then ran; not out of fear for me, but guilt for his actions."
"I--I don't understand."
"Compassion, son." Master Inoue began. "Strength without compassion will never be Power. I look at everything, including what I read in the papers about this Daimu fellow, and wonder where he could have been in life if someone showed him compassion..."
Sam was wise enough to let Master Inoue continue uninterrupted.
"...so there it is Sam. Compassion. Strength can always be overmatched. Power, true power cannot. Add compassion to your strength and you will always be powerful."
"Yes, sir." Sam nodded.
"Sir." Inoue replied.
"Yeah, that's what I said, 'Sir'." Sam repeated.
Sir...
Sir.....
Sir.....
Presently.
"Sir..."
"SIR!!!!" He yelled. "We're here."
Sam snapped awake, handing the cab driver a crisp $20 bill. "Sorry man, must've dozed off."
Sam stepped out of the cab, and onto the sidewalk. Dressed handsomely in a custom fit White suit, and orange tie, he looked on at the Allen AME Cathedral. Even after all these years, the size of the cathedral still blows him away.
"Here I am." He said as he put his blue tinted Shield Aviator shades on. "Let's do it."
He walked up the series of steps and into the cathedral, entering the sanctuary.
"Is there another one?" The minister said. "Anybody else?"
Sam raised his hand, walking down the aisle. Upon seeing Sam, the minister gasped. When Sam made his way down the aisle, everyone gasped as well.
It's been 4 years since he's been home.
Whether it was everybody clapping that made Sam cry or the sight of the white casket in front of him is open for debate.
This and only this could have brought him home.
"Um...my name is Sam. And I--I'm here to pay my respects to Master Inoue. He told me once that if this day should ever come that me and his other students were to wear white as a sign that he is at rest." Sam wiped his eyes. "What I'll miss most about him, was the way he embraced life; always learning in life, even though we called him 'Master'. There was always new wisdom to gain, always more lessons to learn..."
Sam's eyes looked upwards.
"...He never gave up on me, even when I gave him plenty of reason to." Sam paused to hold back more tears. "I just wish I could tell him 'thank you', one last time. Orasumi, arigato gozai masu Inoue-san."
He stepped down from the microphone, and took another look at Master Inoue in the coffin. Kissing his own fingers, he placed them on forehead of the lifeless shell that once housed the spirit of the man that taught him everything.
Later...
The church had laid out a very nice spread for Master Inoue's family and friends. Sam however, just couldn't partake in the fellowship. Needing to be alone, he unbuttoned his jacket and stood outside, soaking in the peace and quiet like a sponge.
Of course, that wouldn't last.
"You know, he never did give up on you."
Sam turned around to see his best friend, and sometime rival, Detective Ron Steward of the NYPD.
Ron smiled. "None of us did, bruh. I mean, he always knew you would come home. Even with.....everything else."
Sam raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Maybe it's all the emotion in the air, but are you coming at me as my best friend or Detective Ronald Steward?"
"Probably a little of both, Sam." Ron answered, he stepped in front of him and placed his hands on Sam's shoulders. "I know you probably heard about how he died, and trust me I want his murder resolved as much as you do. But you gotta let me do this my way; by the book."
"I can't promise you that." Sam shrugged his shoulders.
"You're gonna have to, Sam." Ron folded his arms. "Especially in light of how interested my superiors are in the fact that a top enforcer for Japan's Crime Syndicate suddenly shows up in the States on the day of Master Inoue's funeral."
"My time in Japan has nothing to do with this." Sam defended himself.
"It has everything to do with this!" Detective Steward barked.
"Well, well, well...A pleasure to see not much has changed since we were kids." A voice chided them from their blindside.
They turned to see her walking up towards them. She was dressed in a form fitting white one-piece skirt and orange Prada pumps.
"Jeanie..." Sam and Ron said in unison.
Enter Elizabeth Jeannine Riviera.
The woman who will turn Sam's life around...
"Let's do dinner." She said sweetly, holding another Exodus Pro Tryout flyer in front of her. "It's called Exodus Pro, Sam. I think the wrestling world is ready for you again."
...even if it kills him.