Post by davidtroy on Nov 22, 2018 23:12:02 GMT -5
He sat on the couch alongside his two nephews watching the Cowboys game on the Armed Forces Network, enjoying a little excursion from his training. At the naval base home of Master Chief Matthew J. Troy, David Troy pondered how being able to spend Thanksgiving with his brother’s family was a fringe benefit of this tour with Maximum Japan. He didn’t get to spend much time with relatives as a touring wrestler, and their parents were long gone, so David relished these holidays with Matt and Ellie and their kids.
Brian Troy was fifteen years old and a burgeoning pro wrestling fan, and David was his hero; even in the low times when he struggled, and especially during his triumphs. Brian kept the pictures of himself and David with the King of Lions title belt up on his wall, and was contemplating entering the sport himself. David would call once a week, especially to talk to Brian, who would always come to the phone with a head full of questions for Uncle Dave and Miss Saori. Now that he was here in front of him, though, poor David’s ear was currently being talked off.
David appreciated these moments. They gave him more reasons to keep on, especially after losing the world championship he worked so hard for to chicanery. He would make his move to reclaim the title eventually, but for now he was a short while away from taking part in the Max-J Sword of Lite Grand Prix tournament.
Today is a day for gratitude for what one has, David thought. Tomorrow, though, the chase begins anew.
————————
“The Sword of Lite.”
Cold open.
David Troy. Alone. This time, he looks somewhat naked; he’s dressed in blue jeans and a sick-ass New Jersey Americans ABA T-shirt, but without the King of Lions World Heavyweight Championship he paraded with the last time he was on Japanese shores. He doesn’t look happy at all, and the constant glances at his shoulder indicate this.
“We got junior heavyweights far and wide comin’ to the Land of the Rising Sun to fight it out. Some of Maximum Japan’s mainstays, some folks like me comin’ from America… familiar faces and newcomers alike. Sixteen men are gonna descend on Tokyo… and fifteen of them are gonna fall like dominoes, and the last man standing?”
A sheepish grin, followed by a thrust of his thumb towards himself.
“Dynamite David Troy. Last time I was here, I wasn’t just sittin’ around and lookin’ pretty; I was scouting all those juniors, because of all the rumblings I heard about this tournament. Who’s good, who’s rough around the edges… moves to avoid and, apparently, what kind of virus I need to upload into Metal HERO to slow down that tokusatsu terror…
“But I have a lot to dwell on leading up to this; whether it’s schooling Falcon Hamada tomorrow night, having another encounter with AJ Knight… and serve a fistful of humble pie to Sen Ohka.”
David tilts to one side and spits on the floor.
“Brother, I may be a wrestler, but I’d like you to come up to my face and tell me my sport is bullshit. See, before I was a wrestler, I was a kickboxer. And a pretty goddamn good one, too. I had a number of belts for regional and national championships, and I had wins at LUMPINEE STADIUM, aka the Madison Square Garden of Muay Thai. I may be a pro wrestler, but I still know several ways to kick that smug grin off your stupid fucking face, Ohka.
“And to the other fourteen fighters stepping in to win that Sword and the Max-J Junior Heavyweight title shot? I may not be world champion anymore, but I’m still one of the hardest-hitting, hardest-FIGHTING beasts to ever set foot in a Max-J ring… so let’s just say that your chances? Not so hot.”
A grin.
“I’ve got way too much to prove now, and the journey starts tomorrow; one junior at a time.”
Cut.
Brian Troy was fifteen years old and a burgeoning pro wrestling fan, and David was his hero; even in the low times when he struggled, and especially during his triumphs. Brian kept the pictures of himself and David with the King of Lions title belt up on his wall, and was contemplating entering the sport himself. David would call once a week, especially to talk to Brian, who would always come to the phone with a head full of questions for Uncle Dave and Miss Saori. Now that he was here in front of him, though, poor David’s ear was currently being talked off.
David appreciated these moments. They gave him more reasons to keep on, especially after losing the world championship he worked so hard for to chicanery. He would make his move to reclaim the title eventually, but for now he was a short while away from taking part in the Max-J Sword of Lite Grand Prix tournament.
Today is a day for gratitude for what one has, David thought. Tomorrow, though, the chase begins anew.
————————
“The Sword of Lite.”
Cold open.
David Troy. Alone. This time, he looks somewhat naked; he’s dressed in blue jeans and a sick-ass New Jersey Americans ABA T-shirt, but without the King of Lions World Heavyweight Championship he paraded with the last time he was on Japanese shores. He doesn’t look happy at all, and the constant glances at his shoulder indicate this.
“We got junior heavyweights far and wide comin’ to the Land of the Rising Sun to fight it out. Some of Maximum Japan’s mainstays, some folks like me comin’ from America… familiar faces and newcomers alike. Sixteen men are gonna descend on Tokyo… and fifteen of them are gonna fall like dominoes, and the last man standing?”
A sheepish grin, followed by a thrust of his thumb towards himself.
“Dynamite David Troy. Last time I was here, I wasn’t just sittin’ around and lookin’ pretty; I was scouting all those juniors, because of all the rumblings I heard about this tournament. Who’s good, who’s rough around the edges… moves to avoid and, apparently, what kind of virus I need to upload into Metal HERO to slow down that tokusatsu terror…
“But I have a lot to dwell on leading up to this; whether it’s schooling Falcon Hamada tomorrow night, having another encounter with AJ Knight… and serve a fistful of humble pie to Sen Ohka.”
David tilts to one side and spits on the floor.
“Brother, I may be a wrestler, but I’d like you to come up to my face and tell me my sport is bullshit. See, before I was a wrestler, I was a kickboxer. And a pretty goddamn good one, too. I had a number of belts for regional and national championships, and I had wins at LUMPINEE STADIUM, aka the Madison Square Garden of Muay Thai. I may be a pro wrestler, but I still know several ways to kick that smug grin off your stupid fucking face, Ohka.
“And to the other fourteen fighters stepping in to win that Sword and the Max-J Junior Heavyweight title shot? I may not be world champion anymore, but I’m still one of the hardest-hitting, hardest-FIGHTING beasts to ever set foot in a Max-J ring… so let’s just say that your chances? Not so hot.”
A grin.
“I’ve got way too much to prove now, and the journey starts tomorrow; one junior at a time.”
Cut.