Post by The Cosplay Playboy on Mar 29, 2015 14:12:06 GMT -6
January 20, 2015
Los Angeles, California
He watched it as Park pulled herself to her feet, hobbling around a bit on the injured leg. As Abby shakes the leg out, Chris Strike shakes the cobwebs out and gets back to his own feet. With laser-like focus, he saw himself moving in and grabbing hold of the good leg, forcing Abby to stand on only the bad one - and watched as her leg buckled promptly, causing the then-challenger to fall to the canvas.
“She can’t put much weight on that leg! This is it! Strike’s dragging her back to the center!”
He saw himself once again taking advantage of the opportunity he created and going for the figure-four leg lock, leaning forward and watching carefully as the moment he stopped mid-motion to complete the rotation and the lock, Abby sprung from her position and grabbed a hold of his head, rolling him up with an inside cradle!
…and he watched himself squirm and not be able to free himself as the mat was pounded three times by the referee, his body only coming free from the cradle a second later. The ringing of the bell and the ovation inside the Staples Center that followed sounded far, far worse than it initially did while he found himself sat down on the mat, covering his face and that same feeling of frustration returned to him tenfold while Abby Park was handed the EXODUS Pro World Heavyweight championship.
“ Your winner of this contest, at a time of twenty-eight minutes, fifty-seven seconds….and NEW EXODUS PRO WORLD CHAMPION...ABBBBYYYYYY PAAAARRRKK!”
If heavy is the head that wears the crown, he might as well have no head without it.
If heavy is the head that wears the crown, then he’ll take her fucking head off if it means seizing it back.
And that’s the point where his mind asks him the question…
“…Have you snapped yet?”
--------------------------
March 26, 2015
Shinjuku Ward, Tokyo, Japan
“...You know, for the amount of time we haven’t been anywhere near one another, you have wasted no time to flood my phone with k-pop suggestions...”
The smile on Chris Strike’s face is probably the brightest it has been in WEEKS as he leaned back on his seat, a plastic cup in his left hand filled with a slushy, orange colored liquid and a bunch of tapioca balls within it while he stabs through the plastic covering its top with a very large, thick straw. Stirring the contents in the cup, he can’t help but to be in awe of the magic trick he had just witnessed a few nights ago before and most importantly, the return of somebody near and dear to him...regardless of the terms in which they last met inside of the squared circle.
“Needless to say, it’s good to have you back, Seon-yeong.”
Seon-yeong - otherwise known as (or infamously known as?) Sally Talfourd in different circles - couldn’t help but smile. And, for the slightest of moments, it was at a simple something that she’d not had for a while. Stirring the cloudy-purple milk, tapioca and ice floating around in the most unpredictable of ways, there was a savoring in this return to happiness much like had happened through the week.
“I’m happy to be back, Chris,” Now her attention turns to her partner for this unique catch up, “I don’t know if I can even say how much it means to me. I … I thought everyone would keep their back turned on me. I expected it after what I did.”
Back to stirring the drink, not yet ready to take a sip. Nothing more than preparing. Mixing the flavors, readying the elements, preparing for what’s to come. Gentle, careful, patient.
“After what Gunner did...well, some people might be skeptical but I know that a good part of it happened to be manipulation,” Strike gave the elements within the cup another stirring. “The aftermath has seen a majority of EXODUS give Savannah a chance and she was far less guided in that direction of the New Age than yourself. And...well, there is always that part of me that believed in you regardless.”
He lowered his head, mind recalling their battle while he wore the WEAPON persona and as himself while he made his path towards Christum Furor with a purpose of ending his "New Age." The reveal that Furor was the one who attacked Seon-yeong had been the thing that drove him over the edge, that extra 'oomph' of motivation he needed and sank his teeth into in order to bury the man alive and as a means of moving forward. Just like he was sure the “Last Magician” had to do after coming to terms with the fact she was guided into that direction, guided into a final battle against the Collins family...
“I don’t know if that’s a hat I can wear, Chris,” Seon-yeong lets out a kind of tired laugh, resting back in her seat, resting her hands atop her head, “People can’t see manipulation on their TV, week in and week out. They can’t hear manipulation, you know? They just had near enough to a year of me talking about…well, no need to repeat it.”
Love…hate…destruction…rebuilding…it’s not easy to erase that from the mind. She squirms in her seat, teasing out her coat, and Strike observed carefully while finally bringing the bubble tea’s straw near his lips, allowing himself to take a sip from it. Orange had been a good choice and the boba was also on point.
“It won’t be easy. But what you did by saving Fiona and Ruby from that beat down...it’s something to build on.” Chris put down the drink on the table. “Actions are going to speak louder, sure. But I know you. I know how it feels to have somebody fuck with your mind and point you in that direction to where everybody else looks at you as if you are insane...”
Chris need not finish the sentence, and Seon-yeong is sure to cut him off. She reaches across the table, resting her hand on his, “Chris, I’m sorry that I…all that stuff you went through…I’m a horrible friend. I let you down, I know it. Here’s me rambling on about what I brought on myself and, really, I should be asking you about your troubles.”
“Trust me, that’s one set of stories I’m…” He cut himself off almost immediately. Things had gotten considerably more surreal ever since the aftermath of the Autumn Effect and escalated further after Dead in Hollywood. “Well, let me put it to you this way...everything that could have possibly gone wrong after losing to Abby Park, it’s gone wrong. Everything, Seon-yeong. Professionally, personally, emotionally…and, I…fuck, I’ve started to question if I’m even capable of doing this...you know, doing this at the level I expect myself to do it. Hell, even being capable of doing this profession in general…”
The background music changes, some up-beat pop piece gives way to a somber love-gone-wrong type song. Of course, it’s K-Pop, so to the untrained ear, it might as well be all the same. One last rub of her hand over the back of Chris’ hand. It’s rougher skin than hers (of course), but that’s not altogether a bad thing, “You’re too hard on yourself, Christopher. Think of everything you’ve been through and survived. I won’t say this time is easier or something like that. But I’ve seen you rally before. I’ve seen you come back despite things looking bad for you. Horrible even!”
Her attempt at comfort doesn’t seem to have much effect on Strike, consumed with his thoughts of failure and self-flagellation. Seon-yeong, herself disappointed in what she says, looks down to her drink, the ice melting, the condensation on the side pools and then trickling down. The drink must be drunk soon, lest it spoil. Seon-yeong brings it to her lips, taking a few sips from the straw, “You’re not in this alone, Chris. You know that we both have something to do in the next few months. I’ll be by your side, you know that. And … well, we’re probably fighting for the same thing in a way. Maybe not in detail but…to find ourselves? To rediscover ourselves? To find something we both lost? I know it’s a lot easier when someone is right next to you, you know?”
It was true he’d come back from much worse. Anybody familiar with his history knows about how he lost his family in one fell swoop and that eventually, he made his way back to something. But years of being alone in these kinds of journeys made him consider and wonder if it was time to perhaps have somebody else at his side taking that same journey, all in between different sips of his bubble tea and silence. Outside of Reika Seragaki - who had practically forced themselves into their role as his manager, only during the time they needed to find the Twelve Marks and seal them away - he didn’t particularly have anybody or opened himself to anybody lately. He kept them at a distance. It was easier, in a way, than fully trusting somebody. Especially considering what would likely end up coming next…
“It won’t be...well, it won’t be the cleanest of journeys,” he stated. “Jonathan says the war is over, that I should fight for myself. But I don’t think he realizes the last time I fought for myself, I buried a railroad spike into my arch nemesis’ face and then beat him within an inch of his life to earn a world title shot.” He turned his hand, intertwining his fingers with hers, giving them a light squeeze in the process. “I, when I have fought for myself over the years and when I set my mind to that...there aren’t any filters. No seals to hold me back, no boundaries that I won’t cross if it means reaching that objective. Hell, I may end up outright doing things that are frowned upon by just about anybody in this company.”
And then, there was that sixty-four thousand dollar question. “...Are you still comfortable with walking alongside me throughout it?”
---------------------------
A mirror.
Every day we look in a mirror. And in that mirror, we see a reflection of ourselves.
The mirror is something that shows everybody who they really are. So many people are ashamed to look in the mirror. They’re afraid of what they’re going to see, some afraid of the ugly side that they have to balance with whatever good they may have in their hearts…and some afraid that there isn’t any good left at all to hide the absolute evil coursing through their veins.
Me? When I look in the mirror…I see the reflection…of a fallen champion. I see the reflection of somebody who is successful, somebody who could step away as soon as tomorrow and still be eventually enshrined within Hall of Fames across the globe, somebody whose career and accolades speak for themselves. But most importantly, I see the reflection of a man who still has plenty left in the tank…regardless of how many times he has fallen in the past few weeks, whether to the likes of Silk, against a good man in Simon Raines…and against the woman who started it all, the woman who defeated me for the EXODUS Pro World Heavyweight championship…Abby Park.
Let me take all you down memory lane: when I arrived here in EXODUS, I didn’t come here with the purpose of being liked. I came here with a sole purpose and that was to beat Christian Kane within an inch of his life, if not damn near murder him for the hell that he put me and every single person close me to me through in SVW. I did just that in two occasions. That resulted in me earning an opportunity at the EXODUS Pro World Heavyweight championship…an opportunity I never got a clear one-on-one shot at due to Christian Kane, believe it or not…an opportunity that took me nearly one whole year to finally get my one-on-one against the then-champion Christum Furor. An opportunity not to just win a championship but to make sure that, once and for all, we put down the Gods & Monsters faction six feet under so that it wouldn’t ever threaten this company again…and I was happy to do just that. Being a World champion again was a very nice cherry on top to cap off that task, regardless of what I had to do in order to do it, regardless of whether there was help or not. I was just satisfied with seeing the end of the New Age and with the hopes to represent EXODUS Pro proudly…and maybe that’s part of the reason why we’re here tonight.
Because two months ago, the strongest challenger I have ever faced looked herself in the mirror and she saw herself becoming champion. And at last, at last, thank God almighty, at long last the underdog had achieved her two-year long dream and overnight, she went from Short-Change Hero to the Hero of EXODUS Pro…almost as if storming the Denadoro Mountains with the Hero Badge on her chest and the Masamune in hands to make it to the dark castle, while I played the role of Magus to her Frog.
I mean, you guys have exalted her after it was all over. You have put her in pedestal, cried at the sight of her with that title; hell, some of you have even bowed down to her presence after that victory…a script worthy of Hollywood, certainly. A fitting end to a journey by a young woman who patiently scratched, clawed, gnawed and did about everything she could to scale the mountain and eventually throw off the man reigning over it. While the guy who lost? Well, you patted him on the back, told him “at least you were champion…even if you had the entire roster help you do it,” and just left it at that.
Probably some of the greatest backhanded compliments I’ve received in my entire life happened in the spam of those two weeks.
But she deserved it. Every bit of that victory, won by the skin of her teeth, she deserved it. Abigail Park’s name is etched in EXODUS Pro’s history books as a World champion, much like her worthless British partner who’s off somewhere fucking fat girls and kissing director’s asses to make a buck. No matter what happens going forward, Abigail Park will be known as a World champion and people will have to take notice of it whether they like it or not.
So, it would appear that now the people love you, Dear Abby. That now, you are the one calling the shots. That now, you’re the one stepping through lines alongside BEOWULF and his chaotic good mannerisms to fight anybody and everybody who threatens EXODUS Pro. I mean, you’ve already knocked me off my perch and taken that championship from me…shaming me in that same manner that Christum Furor shamed your old partner Johnny Cannon when he took that EXODUS Pro World title from him in his first defense. Hell, you made me and every bit of hard work I did to capture that championship look foolish for the sake of your story’s conclusion and you know what?
I applaud you for doing that, Abigail. Because you can probably carry that Hero flag better than I ever could.
But in a way, this is funny…especially when given the name of this event where the rematch is happening. They’re calling it Repetition of Hatred. Hatred. Now there’s an emotion I know a lot about. An emotion I have felt countless times over the past few months. I won’t bore anybody with details, but the fact of the matter is that ever since I lost that EXODUS Pro World title to Abigail Park, it has felt like a part of me was ripped away. That every bit of work I did to climb that mountain was nothing more than just a cruel punchline that would line me up in the same category as a paper champion, giving every critic on the face of the planet more ammo to say that while I can win the big one, I sure as hell know how to lose it quickly…and that was just the start, Abigail. Because while hatred may be a part of a catchy name for this particular iPPV…it’s been an emotion I’ve lived with for the past two months on a daily basis.
You wanna know why I’ve been so fucking quiet the past few weeks? I’ll spin it to you quick.
I’ve had threats sent to my family, some of them disguised as mara’s wonderful little black lantern gifts. I’ve lost time and time again to people who have no business being anywhere my league, let alone anywhere near in this company outside of its garbage disposal. I’ve have to deal with the fact that shortly after those threats…somebody decided that to get to me, they’d cause an gas leak and cause the house that my own mother bought through years and years of hard work go out with a bang.
So, I have had a lot of hatred stored in me as of late. A lot of frustration piling up and in so many ways, every time I look in the mirror, I should see nothing more than a broken and battered man who’s tired of fighting a war that’s been long over. All I should see, perhaps, is somebody who needs to take off the boots, walk away and be with his family instead, right? The coward’s way out, as some of the fucking douchebags in this company would call it.
But you know what? Time heals all wounds, wins and losses happen and that beautiful house that my mother worked her ass off for? I’m going to do everything in my power to make it bigger and better than what it was, to make it so that nothing like that happens to her or anybody in my family ever again. Because I could sit here, continue to cry foul, garner some sympathy and just walk away…but that’s the easy way out. There’s still a lot of fight left in me…
So, even through all this…when I turn around and I see my reflection in the mirror…do you know what I see?
I see the man who is going to look into the mirror after Repetition of Hatred and have an ear-to-ear grin...
I see the man who will fight for himself and his goals instead of fighting a war that’s already over.
I see the man that thinks it’s about damn time to stop holding myself back from saying what’s actually on my mind for the sake of whatever the public thinks.
And because I will see that you are right back where you started, Abigail Park…
As the same, plucky little underdog at the bottom of the barrel…only with an even bigger chip on her shoulder when I make you realize that you just weren’t good enough to hang at this level. And I will do so while knowing where every single doubter and naysayer is going to be doing at after that same event: with their eyes wide open and their mouths closed shut, when they realize they should have known better than to ever doubt me and what I can do inside of the squared circle.
At Repetition of Hatred, Abigail Park…the gloves finally comes off. While I will protect EXODUS Pro if the time comes, I stop acting like this match and that championship you hold are about wanting to represent the company. No, I’ve done that since day one…and I will continue to do that, with or without a championship. Abigail, this is now about my own legacy, about my own accolades, about showing to the world by hook or by crook, Chris Strike will not be denied of his place in history nor will he be a fucking footnote for somebody else’s happy little story in this company!
Don’t get it twisted, however. I know how hard you plan on defending that championship. You have always been a fighter, Abigail Park and I know that you will go through anything and everything in order to defend that title, even if it means having you bones broken, even if it means bleeding like a stuck pig.
And if that’s the case, Dear Abby? So be it.
Because you, Abigail Park…you’ve taken something from me. And I will do anything and everything in my power to make sure that championship is back around my waist and that you leave Japan with absolutely nothing other than shattered pride and in a fucking stretcher!
You left me for Dead in Hollywood, Abigail. It’s only fair you see me return from the dead in a place that respects me and salutes me as their Raijin, as their Thunder God! I couldn’t think of a more fitting place to win my fifth World championship.
So make the best of the time you have with that championship together, Abigail…look at yourself in the mirror with it. Clutch to that championship for dear life and look nice and deep at your own reflection…then come to the realization that the people you thought were your fans, the people who you thought cared about you, the people you thought WORSHIPPED you, the people who were so happy for you due to you achieving your life’s dream…
They are all just waiting to see how hard you are going to fall.
Because if there’s anything more that they like than a good Hollywood ending…it’s a sequel that exceeds the original material.
You may be A New Hope, Abigail Park.
But as always…the Empire Strikes Back.
…and there isn’t a damned thing that you can do about it.
---------------------------
? ? ? ? ?
? ? ? ? ?
I stepped in and found myself in a sort of lobby, filled with (what did I expect?) blue furniture—sofa, glass coffee table, carpet, cabinet. I walked around in a leisurely pace and stumbled upon the reception table, glancing around and noticing a door that emitted a unique vibe, pulling at the inner depths of my mind; beckoning me to go in the room it contained behind it…and without even thinking, I found myself entering the room and found myself in some sort of office after closing the door shut. There was a long table placed in the center, with seats all around it; kind of like the ones in corporate meetings. From top to bottom, the place was a hue of velvet blue, including the carpet and the furniture. As I scanned them, I notice that the wall behind them was no wall - it looked like the metal grates you'd see in an old- fashioned lift. Besides that, whatever looked like a wall past those grates continued to descend, as if we were inside of an elevator and that’s when my eyes found that I wasn’t alone.
“Welcome to my world, Mr. Strike…”
A man in a jet black suit sat in the largest chair in the room. His expression was that of someone amused and in glee, with eyes that told of deep understanding and wisdom. His hair fell down to his neck and with a smile, he beckoned me to the seat across him at the large table and finally, I recognized him. He’s the last person I would expect to run into during my time here or anywhere, really…
“We have much to discuss, you and I…but before I go any further…how exactly did you find this room?”
I wasn’t exactly sure myself. The look of confusion on my face probably gave that much away. One moment, I just closed my eyes to bed after a grueling film session of sorts for my upcoming World title rematch and the next moment, I was in a room reminiscent to a certain videogame I’d played WAAAAY too many times over the past few years. Was that his design? Or was it something else at play? Regardless, I didn’t have much to explain…although he did take a curious look at my right hand, his eyes going wide.
“Aquarius…”
Aquarius. Oh right, the Mark. One of twelve, and this particular one was something passed on from the bearer herself. Although she wasn’t very forthcoming with the details as to how this would be useful before putting on the GOTHRA costume, now that I was here and seeing this man…this may have been why she did it. Slowly but surely, I started to figure one of the key things with a lot of these Mark bearers, something I knew already about myself the moment I realized what this thing could do to a man.
None of us were really keen on keeping these things if we could help it.
“You weren’t set on this path by your own devices...”
The man laid out cards in front of me. All of them face down. I watched carefully as he shuffled the cards with the same precision of a dealer in a Las Vegas casino. A few moments later, I saw him place the deck down on the table again before spreading the cards to the sides, picking out one and revealing it to me.
I could see it clearly…an arcana card.
The Hanged Man.
“The path I saw was that of a man whose mark had been taken for the nefarious purposes of the man who bore a mark as well…and yet, here you sit here now, your Path completely unclear to me just like the kaiju’s…while his life is the one in ruins after his attempt to do the same to yours.”
In ruins, he says…so he’s perhaps foreseen this turn of events long before they happened too?
Or could he also see the newly acquired Mark on his back?
Finally, I reply.
“It’s a long story…”
Shinji Oshima smiled wide.
“…We have all the time in the world, Mr. Strike.”
Los Angeles, California
He watched it as Park pulled herself to her feet, hobbling around a bit on the injured leg. As Abby shakes the leg out, Chris Strike shakes the cobwebs out and gets back to his own feet. With laser-like focus, he saw himself moving in and grabbing hold of the good leg, forcing Abby to stand on only the bad one - and watched as her leg buckled promptly, causing the then-challenger to fall to the canvas.
“She can’t put much weight on that leg! This is it! Strike’s dragging her back to the center!”
He saw himself once again taking advantage of the opportunity he created and going for the figure-four leg lock, leaning forward and watching carefully as the moment he stopped mid-motion to complete the rotation and the lock, Abby sprung from her position and grabbed a hold of his head, rolling him up with an inside cradle!
…and he watched himself squirm and not be able to free himself as the mat was pounded three times by the referee, his body only coming free from the cradle a second later. The ringing of the bell and the ovation inside the Staples Center that followed sounded far, far worse than it initially did while he found himself sat down on the mat, covering his face and that same feeling of frustration returned to him tenfold while Abby Park was handed the EXODUS Pro World Heavyweight championship.
“ Your winner of this contest, at a time of twenty-eight minutes, fifty-seven seconds….and NEW EXODUS PRO WORLD CHAMPION...ABBBBYYYYYY PAAAARRRKK!”
If heavy is the head that wears the crown, he might as well have no head without it.
If heavy is the head that wears the crown, then he’ll take her fucking head off if it means seizing it back.
And that’s the point where his mind asks him the question…
“…Have you snapped yet?”
--------------------------
March 26, 2015
Shinjuku Ward, Tokyo, Japan
“...You know, for the amount of time we haven’t been anywhere near one another, you have wasted no time to flood my phone with k-pop suggestions...”
The smile on Chris Strike’s face is probably the brightest it has been in WEEKS as he leaned back on his seat, a plastic cup in his left hand filled with a slushy, orange colored liquid and a bunch of tapioca balls within it while he stabs through the plastic covering its top with a very large, thick straw. Stirring the contents in the cup, he can’t help but to be in awe of the magic trick he had just witnessed a few nights ago before and most importantly, the return of somebody near and dear to him...regardless of the terms in which they last met inside of the squared circle.
“Needless to say, it’s good to have you back, Seon-yeong.”
Seon-yeong - otherwise known as (or infamously known as?) Sally Talfourd in different circles - couldn’t help but smile. And, for the slightest of moments, it was at a simple something that she’d not had for a while. Stirring the cloudy-purple milk, tapioca and ice floating around in the most unpredictable of ways, there was a savoring in this return to happiness much like had happened through the week.
“I’m happy to be back, Chris,” Now her attention turns to her partner for this unique catch up, “I don’t know if I can even say how much it means to me. I … I thought everyone would keep their back turned on me. I expected it after what I did.”
Back to stirring the drink, not yet ready to take a sip. Nothing more than preparing. Mixing the flavors, readying the elements, preparing for what’s to come. Gentle, careful, patient.
“After what Gunner did...well, some people might be skeptical but I know that a good part of it happened to be manipulation,” Strike gave the elements within the cup another stirring. “The aftermath has seen a majority of EXODUS give Savannah a chance and she was far less guided in that direction of the New Age than yourself. And...well, there is always that part of me that believed in you regardless.”
He lowered his head, mind recalling their battle while he wore the WEAPON persona and as himself while he made his path towards Christum Furor with a purpose of ending his "New Age." The reveal that Furor was the one who attacked Seon-yeong had been the thing that drove him over the edge, that extra 'oomph' of motivation he needed and sank his teeth into in order to bury the man alive and as a means of moving forward. Just like he was sure the “Last Magician” had to do after coming to terms with the fact she was guided into that direction, guided into a final battle against the Collins family...
“I don’t know if that’s a hat I can wear, Chris,” Seon-yeong lets out a kind of tired laugh, resting back in her seat, resting her hands atop her head, “People can’t see manipulation on their TV, week in and week out. They can’t hear manipulation, you know? They just had near enough to a year of me talking about…well, no need to repeat it.”
Love…hate…destruction…rebuilding…it’s not easy to erase that from the mind. She squirms in her seat, teasing out her coat, and Strike observed carefully while finally bringing the bubble tea’s straw near his lips, allowing himself to take a sip from it. Orange had been a good choice and the boba was also on point.
“It won’t be easy. But what you did by saving Fiona and Ruby from that beat down...it’s something to build on.” Chris put down the drink on the table. “Actions are going to speak louder, sure. But I know you. I know how it feels to have somebody fuck with your mind and point you in that direction to where everybody else looks at you as if you are insane...”
Chris need not finish the sentence, and Seon-yeong is sure to cut him off. She reaches across the table, resting her hand on his, “Chris, I’m sorry that I…all that stuff you went through…I’m a horrible friend. I let you down, I know it. Here’s me rambling on about what I brought on myself and, really, I should be asking you about your troubles.”
“Trust me, that’s one set of stories I’m…” He cut himself off almost immediately. Things had gotten considerably more surreal ever since the aftermath of the Autumn Effect and escalated further after Dead in Hollywood. “Well, let me put it to you this way...everything that could have possibly gone wrong after losing to Abby Park, it’s gone wrong. Everything, Seon-yeong. Professionally, personally, emotionally…and, I…fuck, I’ve started to question if I’m even capable of doing this...you know, doing this at the level I expect myself to do it. Hell, even being capable of doing this profession in general…”
The background music changes, some up-beat pop piece gives way to a somber love-gone-wrong type song. Of course, it’s K-Pop, so to the untrained ear, it might as well be all the same. One last rub of her hand over the back of Chris’ hand. It’s rougher skin than hers (of course), but that’s not altogether a bad thing, “You’re too hard on yourself, Christopher. Think of everything you’ve been through and survived. I won’t say this time is easier or something like that. But I’ve seen you rally before. I’ve seen you come back despite things looking bad for you. Horrible even!”
Her attempt at comfort doesn’t seem to have much effect on Strike, consumed with his thoughts of failure and self-flagellation. Seon-yeong, herself disappointed in what she says, looks down to her drink, the ice melting, the condensation on the side pools and then trickling down. The drink must be drunk soon, lest it spoil. Seon-yeong brings it to her lips, taking a few sips from the straw, “You’re not in this alone, Chris. You know that we both have something to do in the next few months. I’ll be by your side, you know that. And … well, we’re probably fighting for the same thing in a way. Maybe not in detail but…to find ourselves? To rediscover ourselves? To find something we both lost? I know it’s a lot easier when someone is right next to you, you know?”
It was true he’d come back from much worse. Anybody familiar with his history knows about how he lost his family in one fell swoop and that eventually, he made his way back to something. But years of being alone in these kinds of journeys made him consider and wonder if it was time to perhaps have somebody else at his side taking that same journey, all in between different sips of his bubble tea and silence. Outside of Reika Seragaki - who had practically forced themselves into their role as his manager, only during the time they needed to find the Twelve Marks and seal them away - he didn’t particularly have anybody or opened himself to anybody lately. He kept them at a distance. It was easier, in a way, than fully trusting somebody. Especially considering what would likely end up coming next…
“It won’t be...well, it won’t be the cleanest of journeys,” he stated. “Jonathan says the war is over, that I should fight for myself. But I don’t think he realizes the last time I fought for myself, I buried a railroad spike into my arch nemesis’ face and then beat him within an inch of his life to earn a world title shot.” He turned his hand, intertwining his fingers with hers, giving them a light squeeze in the process. “I, when I have fought for myself over the years and when I set my mind to that...there aren’t any filters. No seals to hold me back, no boundaries that I won’t cross if it means reaching that objective. Hell, I may end up outright doing things that are frowned upon by just about anybody in this company.”
And then, there was that sixty-four thousand dollar question. “...Are you still comfortable with walking alongside me throughout it?”
---------------------------
A mirror.
Every day we look in a mirror. And in that mirror, we see a reflection of ourselves.
The mirror is something that shows everybody who they really are. So many people are ashamed to look in the mirror. They’re afraid of what they’re going to see, some afraid of the ugly side that they have to balance with whatever good they may have in their hearts…and some afraid that there isn’t any good left at all to hide the absolute evil coursing through their veins.
Me? When I look in the mirror…I see the reflection…of a fallen champion. I see the reflection of somebody who is successful, somebody who could step away as soon as tomorrow and still be eventually enshrined within Hall of Fames across the globe, somebody whose career and accolades speak for themselves. But most importantly, I see the reflection of a man who still has plenty left in the tank…regardless of how many times he has fallen in the past few weeks, whether to the likes of Silk, against a good man in Simon Raines…and against the woman who started it all, the woman who defeated me for the EXODUS Pro World Heavyweight championship…Abby Park.
Let me take all you down memory lane: when I arrived here in EXODUS, I didn’t come here with the purpose of being liked. I came here with a sole purpose and that was to beat Christian Kane within an inch of his life, if not damn near murder him for the hell that he put me and every single person close me to me through in SVW. I did just that in two occasions. That resulted in me earning an opportunity at the EXODUS Pro World Heavyweight championship…an opportunity I never got a clear one-on-one shot at due to Christian Kane, believe it or not…an opportunity that took me nearly one whole year to finally get my one-on-one against the then-champion Christum Furor. An opportunity not to just win a championship but to make sure that, once and for all, we put down the Gods & Monsters faction six feet under so that it wouldn’t ever threaten this company again…and I was happy to do just that. Being a World champion again was a very nice cherry on top to cap off that task, regardless of what I had to do in order to do it, regardless of whether there was help or not. I was just satisfied with seeing the end of the New Age and with the hopes to represent EXODUS Pro proudly…and maybe that’s part of the reason why we’re here tonight.
Because two months ago, the strongest challenger I have ever faced looked herself in the mirror and she saw herself becoming champion. And at last, at last, thank God almighty, at long last the underdog had achieved her two-year long dream and overnight, she went from Short-Change Hero to the Hero of EXODUS Pro…almost as if storming the Denadoro Mountains with the Hero Badge on her chest and the Masamune in hands to make it to the dark castle, while I played the role of Magus to her Frog.
I mean, you guys have exalted her after it was all over. You have put her in pedestal, cried at the sight of her with that title; hell, some of you have even bowed down to her presence after that victory…a script worthy of Hollywood, certainly. A fitting end to a journey by a young woman who patiently scratched, clawed, gnawed and did about everything she could to scale the mountain and eventually throw off the man reigning over it. While the guy who lost? Well, you patted him on the back, told him “at least you were champion…even if you had the entire roster help you do it,” and just left it at that.
Probably some of the greatest backhanded compliments I’ve received in my entire life happened in the spam of those two weeks.
But she deserved it. Every bit of that victory, won by the skin of her teeth, she deserved it. Abigail Park’s name is etched in EXODUS Pro’s history books as a World champion, much like her worthless British partner who’s off somewhere fucking fat girls and kissing director’s asses to make a buck. No matter what happens going forward, Abigail Park will be known as a World champion and people will have to take notice of it whether they like it or not.
So, it would appear that now the people love you, Dear Abby. That now, you are the one calling the shots. That now, you’re the one stepping through lines alongside BEOWULF and his chaotic good mannerisms to fight anybody and everybody who threatens EXODUS Pro. I mean, you’ve already knocked me off my perch and taken that championship from me…shaming me in that same manner that Christum Furor shamed your old partner Johnny Cannon when he took that EXODUS Pro World title from him in his first defense. Hell, you made me and every bit of hard work I did to capture that championship look foolish for the sake of your story’s conclusion and you know what?
I applaud you for doing that, Abigail. Because you can probably carry that Hero flag better than I ever could.
But in a way, this is funny…especially when given the name of this event where the rematch is happening. They’re calling it Repetition of Hatred. Hatred. Now there’s an emotion I know a lot about. An emotion I have felt countless times over the past few months. I won’t bore anybody with details, but the fact of the matter is that ever since I lost that EXODUS Pro World title to Abigail Park, it has felt like a part of me was ripped away. That every bit of work I did to climb that mountain was nothing more than just a cruel punchline that would line me up in the same category as a paper champion, giving every critic on the face of the planet more ammo to say that while I can win the big one, I sure as hell know how to lose it quickly…and that was just the start, Abigail. Because while hatred may be a part of a catchy name for this particular iPPV…it’s been an emotion I’ve lived with for the past two months on a daily basis.
You wanna know why I’ve been so fucking quiet the past few weeks? I’ll spin it to you quick.
I’ve had threats sent to my family, some of them disguised as mara’s wonderful little black lantern gifts. I’ve lost time and time again to people who have no business being anywhere my league, let alone anywhere near in this company outside of its garbage disposal. I’ve have to deal with the fact that shortly after those threats…somebody decided that to get to me, they’d cause an gas leak and cause the house that my own mother bought through years and years of hard work go out with a bang.
So, I have had a lot of hatred stored in me as of late. A lot of frustration piling up and in so many ways, every time I look in the mirror, I should see nothing more than a broken and battered man who’s tired of fighting a war that’s been long over. All I should see, perhaps, is somebody who needs to take off the boots, walk away and be with his family instead, right? The coward’s way out, as some of the fucking douchebags in this company would call it.
But you know what? Time heals all wounds, wins and losses happen and that beautiful house that my mother worked her ass off for? I’m going to do everything in my power to make it bigger and better than what it was, to make it so that nothing like that happens to her or anybody in my family ever again. Because I could sit here, continue to cry foul, garner some sympathy and just walk away…but that’s the easy way out. There’s still a lot of fight left in me…
So, even through all this…when I turn around and I see my reflection in the mirror…do you know what I see?
I see the man who is going to look into the mirror after Repetition of Hatred and have an ear-to-ear grin...
I see the man who will fight for himself and his goals instead of fighting a war that’s already over.
I see the man that thinks it’s about damn time to stop holding myself back from saying what’s actually on my mind for the sake of whatever the public thinks.
And because I will see that you are right back where you started, Abigail Park…
As the same, plucky little underdog at the bottom of the barrel…only with an even bigger chip on her shoulder when I make you realize that you just weren’t good enough to hang at this level. And I will do so while knowing where every single doubter and naysayer is going to be doing at after that same event: with their eyes wide open and their mouths closed shut, when they realize they should have known better than to ever doubt me and what I can do inside of the squared circle.
At Repetition of Hatred, Abigail Park…the gloves finally comes off. While I will protect EXODUS Pro if the time comes, I stop acting like this match and that championship you hold are about wanting to represent the company. No, I’ve done that since day one…and I will continue to do that, with or without a championship. Abigail, this is now about my own legacy, about my own accolades, about showing to the world by hook or by crook, Chris Strike will not be denied of his place in history nor will he be a fucking footnote for somebody else’s happy little story in this company!
Don’t get it twisted, however. I know how hard you plan on defending that championship. You have always been a fighter, Abigail Park and I know that you will go through anything and everything in order to defend that title, even if it means having you bones broken, even if it means bleeding like a stuck pig.
And if that’s the case, Dear Abby? So be it.
Because you, Abigail Park…you’ve taken something from me. And I will do anything and everything in my power to make sure that championship is back around my waist and that you leave Japan with absolutely nothing other than shattered pride and in a fucking stretcher!
You left me for Dead in Hollywood, Abigail. It’s only fair you see me return from the dead in a place that respects me and salutes me as their Raijin, as their Thunder God! I couldn’t think of a more fitting place to win my fifth World championship.
So make the best of the time you have with that championship together, Abigail…look at yourself in the mirror with it. Clutch to that championship for dear life and look nice and deep at your own reflection…then come to the realization that the people you thought were your fans, the people who you thought cared about you, the people you thought WORSHIPPED you, the people who were so happy for you due to you achieving your life’s dream…
They are all just waiting to see how hard you are going to fall.
Because if there’s anything more that they like than a good Hollywood ending…it’s a sequel that exceeds the original material.
You may be A New Hope, Abigail Park.
But as always…the Empire Strikes Back.
…and there isn’t a damned thing that you can do about it.
---------------------------
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I stepped in and found myself in a sort of lobby, filled with (what did I expect?) blue furniture—sofa, glass coffee table, carpet, cabinet. I walked around in a leisurely pace and stumbled upon the reception table, glancing around and noticing a door that emitted a unique vibe, pulling at the inner depths of my mind; beckoning me to go in the room it contained behind it…and without even thinking, I found myself entering the room and found myself in some sort of office after closing the door shut. There was a long table placed in the center, with seats all around it; kind of like the ones in corporate meetings. From top to bottom, the place was a hue of velvet blue, including the carpet and the furniture. As I scanned them, I notice that the wall behind them was no wall - it looked like the metal grates you'd see in an old- fashioned lift. Besides that, whatever looked like a wall past those grates continued to descend, as if we were inside of an elevator and that’s when my eyes found that I wasn’t alone.
“Welcome to my world, Mr. Strike…”
A man in a jet black suit sat in the largest chair in the room. His expression was that of someone amused and in glee, with eyes that told of deep understanding and wisdom. His hair fell down to his neck and with a smile, he beckoned me to the seat across him at the large table and finally, I recognized him. He’s the last person I would expect to run into during my time here or anywhere, really…
“We have much to discuss, you and I…but before I go any further…how exactly did you find this room?”
I wasn’t exactly sure myself. The look of confusion on my face probably gave that much away. One moment, I just closed my eyes to bed after a grueling film session of sorts for my upcoming World title rematch and the next moment, I was in a room reminiscent to a certain videogame I’d played WAAAAY too many times over the past few years. Was that his design? Or was it something else at play? Regardless, I didn’t have much to explain…although he did take a curious look at my right hand, his eyes going wide.
“Aquarius…”
Aquarius. Oh right, the Mark. One of twelve, and this particular one was something passed on from the bearer herself. Although she wasn’t very forthcoming with the details as to how this would be useful before putting on the GOTHRA costume, now that I was here and seeing this man…this may have been why she did it. Slowly but surely, I started to figure one of the key things with a lot of these Mark bearers, something I knew already about myself the moment I realized what this thing could do to a man.
None of us were really keen on keeping these things if we could help it.
“You weren’t set on this path by your own devices...”
The man laid out cards in front of me. All of them face down. I watched carefully as he shuffled the cards with the same precision of a dealer in a Las Vegas casino. A few moments later, I saw him place the deck down on the table again before spreading the cards to the sides, picking out one and revealing it to me.
I could see it clearly…an arcana card.
The Hanged Man.
“The path I saw was that of a man whose mark had been taken for the nefarious purposes of the man who bore a mark as well…and yet, here you sit here now, your Path completely unclear to me just like the kaiju’s…while his life is the one in ruins after his attempt to do the same to yours.”
In ruins, he says…so he’s perhaps foreseen this turn of events long before they happened too?
Or could he also see the newly acquired Mark on his back?
Finally, I reply.
“It’s a long story…”
Shinji Oshima smiled wide.
“…We have all the time in the world, Mr. Strike.”
