Post by Gensai on Nov 25, 2018 16:41:46 GMT -5
We’re backstage in the interview area, the usual cameras flickering and reporters chattering with their little recording devices and smartphones outstretched. This time into the face of none other than the victorious Lucha Revolutionary himself Mascara de Muerte Four. The athletic young submission expert and lucha libre superstar is fresh from his victory over Shigeru Toyama on night one of the Sword of Light Grand Prix. A single reporters question is singled out and translated to Muerte. His MAX-J assigned right hand man here in Japan, Suji, recounts the question in English.
“He asks, does it dampen your spirits any knowing that a current reigning world tag team champion waits for you in the quarterfinals?” Suji bows awkwardly and in broken English explains the sharp toned question best he can “Sorry… is question.” He points to the smug otaku looking little fart the question was asked by. Muerte notices the Demon Brigade t-shirt the guy is sporting.
The luchador pulls up the bottom half of his mask so his mouth is visible, he leans over towards the young man’s outstretched iphone. “I’ll speak as plainly as I can so that nothing’s lost in the translation. Just like I told Toyama. I’mma tell Mr. ZOMBIE the same. Damn. Thing. You’re a hurdle. Albeit a much bigger more intimidating hurdle, but a hurdle nonetheless.” His now visible mouth makes perfectly clear the serious intent of his words.
He pokes his index finger into the man’s Demon Brigade t-shirt. Right into the vinyl face of current Heavyweight champion Lord Zenki. “I don’t care who his friends are. I don’t care what hardware he’s carrying around currently. All I know is my goal. What. I. Want. And he’s one more dude standing between it? And ME.” MDM4 takes a second to smile coolly and smooth out the guys t-shirt.
Muerte speaks calmly and plainly. “I said it before my first round match. I’ll say it before this one. Mascara de Muerte is going to WIN the Sword of Light Grand Prix. And not hell, high water and certainly not the goddamn Tokyo Zombie are going to stop me from doing just that. Zombie… you are one spooky badass mother. I’ll give you that much. But you’re about to be put through your PACES. I promise you that… “
He gives the kid a light little shove “... because I’ve got everything to gain by besting you and moving on in this tournament, my contact lens wearing friend.”
“And nothin’ to lose.” Exit stage right. Cut.
“He asks, does it dampen your spirits any knowing that a current reigning world tag team champion waits for you in the quarterfinals?” Suji bows awkwardly and in broken English explains the sharp toned question best he can “Sorry… is question.” He points to the smug otaku looking little fart the question was asked by. Muerte notices the Demon Brigade t-shirt the guy is sporting.
The luchador pulls up the bottom half of his mask so his mouth is visible, he leans over towards the young man’s outstretched iphone. “I’ll speak as plainly as I can so that nothing’s lost in the translation. Just like I told Toyama. I’mma tell Mr. ZOMBIE the same. Damn. Thing. You’re a hurdle. Albeit a much bigger more intimidating hurdle, but a hurdle nonetheless.” His now visible mouth makes perfectly clear the serious intent of his words.
He pokes his index finger into the man’s Demon Brigade t-shirt. Right into the vinyl face of current Heavyweight champion Lord Zenki. “I don’t care who his friends are. I don’t care what hardware he’s carrying around currently. All I know is my goal. What. I. Want. And he’s one more dude standing between it? And ME.” MDM4 takes a second to smile coolly and smooth out the guys t-shirt.
Muerte speaks calmly and plainly. “I said it before my first round match. I’ll say it before this one. Mascara de Muerte is going to WIN the Sword of Light Grand Prix. And not hell, high water and certainly not the goddamn Tokyo Zombie are going to stop me from doing just that. Zombie… you are one spooky badass mother. I’ll give you that much. But you’re about to be put through your PACES. I promise you that… “
He gives the kid a light little shove “... because I’ve got everything to gain by besting you and moving on in this tournament, my contact lens wearing friend.”
“And nothin’ to lose.” Exit stage right. Cut.