Post by Gensai on Jan 25, 2019 11:12:14 GMT -5
A big fat glob of barbeque sauce rolls down the front of The Pale General’s expensive looking white t-shirt. In expected Go Gensai fashion he simply strips off the shirt without missing a beat. Casually tossing the soiled garment across the table tucking immedietly into another pork rib. Frank Dylan James catches the shirt before it reaches his face. He wipes his mouth with the goddamn thing and tosses it over his shoulder with no shits given. Without raising his head Gensai finally breaks the silent feasting. “Good. Damn good. One of the things I like about your country, Frank. They’re not fussy with their meats.”
The massive Appalachian madman finishes his own plate of ribs and leans back in his chair. His bushy head of hair pulled back. Beady eyes peer out over the massive beard that covers a majority of his face. He waits a few beats, then… “you made me a promise.”
The Pale General chuckles as he wipes his mouth with an at hand napkin. He leans back and eyeballs the former SSGP Heavyweight champion. “I did. And you lost… so I improvised. That overhyped mountain of fat and his ridiculopus little manager got what was coming to them. When I shut my eyes and listen reeeeally hard I can still hear him squealing like the pig he is.”
Frank looks unaffected by the strange comment. “I been strugglin’... I wanna be feared again.”
The levity drains a little from Gensai’s voice. “You will be.” He pauses for a moment. “Frank… do you know why I call myself The Last Free Man?”
The massive Mastodon crosses his tree trunk sized arms across his equally massive chest. “I figure yer’ gunna tell me.”
A toothy grin. “Indeed. I’ve wrestled for quite a long time. Like yourself. I struggled in obscurity for a long while. I kept… REACHING. Never quite able to wrap my fingers around what I perceived as success in this business. Then I realized if you’re free HERE… “ he taps the side of his head with his index finger “... then you’re free, period. Are you any less of a terror having dropped that belt to that fat PRICK? Are you? No… your loss opened up a delicious way to debut. Like the echoing thrump of war drums The Ghost arrives. POP goes the fat man!”
He claps his hands out in front of his face suddenly followed by a weird little laugh.
Frank bristles slightly at the strange exchange “YOUR arrival, that right?”
The Ghost recognizes James’ frustration. “And now? Now it’s your turn.“ Frank raises an eyebrow as Go continues on “Your turn to show each and every one of these fucking people. From the inept idiots running MAXIMUM Japan and their goddamn world tour to right here in House of Strong Style… “
“Where the old FDJ was just put to SLEEP by Mushigihara… wasn’t he?”
Even underneath all that hair we see Frank Dylan James’ expression change.
The Pale General stand up slightly, leaning over the table on his elbows. “FUCK that Frank Dylan James. FUCK him. Yeah… I stole his thunder. Now you get to steal a little back. From eeeeeeverybody else. MAXIMUM Japan? They think they can wrest their World tag team titles from us? Hoist them on some fly by night LEGEND and that ape Hammerstein? No. They can’t. And come time for the Strong Style Summit? HOSS’ premiere event, so the Hagen’s say… “
A pause. Another strange, sinister little smile.
“I want us to burn that motherfucker down from both ends. A block to B and back again.”
The smile fades, the sinister intent remains.
“Frank. I keep saying it. But I think finally you understand… don’t you?
NOBODY is safe.”
Hard cut to black.
“Not from me. And definitely not from YOU.”
The massive Appalachian madman finishes his own plate of ribs and leans back in his chair. His bushy head of hair pulled back. Beady eyes peer out over the massive beard that covers a majority of his face. He waits a few beats, then… “you made me a promise.”
The Pale General chuckles as he wipes his mouth with an at hand napkin. He leans back and eyeballs the former SSGP Heavyweight champion. “I did. And you lost… so I improvised. That overhyped mountain of fat and his ridiculopus little manager got what was coming to them. When I shut my eyes and listen reeeeally hard I can still hear him squealing like the pig he is.”
Frank looks unaffected by the strange comment. “I been strugglin’... I wanna be feared again.”
The levity drains a little from Gensai’s voice. “You will be.” He pauses for a moment. “Frank… do you know why I call myself The Last Free Man?”
The massive Mastodon crosses his tree trunk sized arms across his equally massive chest. “I figure yer’ gunna tell me.”
A toothy grin. “Indeed. I’ve wrestled for quite a long time. Like yourself. I struggled in obscurity for a long while. I kept… REACHING. Never quite able to wrap my fingers around what I perceived as success in this business. Then I realized if you’re free HERE… “ he taps the side of his head with his index finger “... then you’re free, period. Are you any less of a terror having dropped that belt to that fat PRICK? Are you? No… your loss opened up a delicious way to debut. Like the echoing thrump of war drums The Ghost arrives. POP goes the fat man!”
He claps his hands out in front of his face suddenly followed by a weird little laugh.
Frank bristles slightly at the strange exchange “YOUR arrival, that right?”
The Ghost recognizes James’ frustration. “And now? Now it’s your turn.“ Frank raises an eyebrow as Go continues on “Your turn to show each and every one of these fucking people. From the inept idiots running MAXIMUM Japan and their goddamn world tour to right here in House of Strong Style… “
“Where the old FDJ was just put to SLEEP by Mushigihara… wasn’t he?”
Even underneath all that hair we see Frank Dylan James’ expression change.
The Pale General stand up slightly, leaning over the table on his elbows. “FUCK that Frank Dylan James. FUCK him. Yeah… I stole his thunder. Now you get to steal a little back. From eeeeeeverybody else. MAXIMUM Japan? They think they can wrest their World tag team titles from us? Hoist them on some fly by night LEGEND and that ape Hammerstein? No. They can’t. And come time for the Strong Style Summit? HOSS’ premiere event, so the Hagen’s say… “
A pause. Another strange, sinister little smile.
“I want us to burn that motherfucker down from both ends. A block to B and back again.”
The smile fades, the sinister intent remains.
“Frank. I keep saying it. But I think finally you understand… don’t you?
NOBODY is safe.”
Hard cut to black.
“Not from me. And definitely not from YOU.”