Post by xpressfighting on Feb 7, 2019 12:43:51 GMT -5
Flowers wilt.
A haze rises.
The heat of Texas is overwhelming.
A decrepit apartment, the door lined with locks, the lone window cracked and fixed with tape.
A bare floor, several empty rum containers scattered about.
A lone table holding an old television set, the rabbit’s ears of an antenna pointing at 12 and 3.
A guitar leaning against a corner, the only thing in the room holding any life or color.
A mattress upon the floor, stained and with springs so worn that they hold no spring.
A man in black sitting upon the mattress, his head in his hands.
Graying hair and beard, both shaggy. In need of a barber’s care.
Marble blue eyes.
Filled with death.
The words playing on the screen, filled with as much static as clarity, are background noise for him. He does not see the short man in the glasses weather a lime green suit, nor the tennis racket in his hand. He does not see the man’s arms waving and flying, his face turning red, as he proclaims that there is a “new face of all of puro” to be wary of. He sees nothing at all.
“The world of puro is SICK, ladies and gentlemen! It has an AILMENT! It is inflicted with a MALADY! But do not fear! Do not fret! Because I, Alan Cunningham, have the CURE! I have what you NEED! I can give you the ANTIBODIES! I can give you the VACCINATION!”
Only despair.
Only death.
His eyes move up towards the television as a flash of the green catches them, but they stare in with a dullness only depression can bring. He sees without seeing as the small man slaps the shoulder of the man next to him. He doesn’t register as the camera moves up...and up...and up to take in the man.
The man in black on the mattress blinks in confusion.
“...what?”
“THIS man is the CURE for the ails of puro! THIS man is what the entire WORLD needs! THIS man is the answer to the question!”
He blinks again and again, the light finally coming to his eyes, as finally focuses on the promotional video playing on his television. They finally focus on the giant of a man next to the man in the ugly suit. The Japanese man was tall and strong, with shoulders broad in both width and girth. Bright white hair makes him blink, the contrast startling.
And the eyes.
He knows those eyes.
“...my God…”
“This MAN. This MONSTER. This...dare I say it...MOUNTAIN! And because of THIS mountain, the ills of puro WILL be cured! NO MORE! Will you have to deal with the owners of wrestling companies squabbling over who has the largest chinchin. NO MORE! Will you have to deal with the so-called ‘champions’ who get off on having their name on a piece of paper but run away and hide, pissing their pants, when a REAL challenge stands in their way. NO MORE! Will you have to deal with shelling out your hard-earned money to watch illiterate hillbillies stall for thirty minutes before they swing their fists one time and get gassed out. NO MORE! Will you have to deal with little man-children wearing their underwear on their heads and thinking they are superheros. Because the CURE for puro is THIS man, ladies and gentlemen, and he is READY to be the FACE of YOUR sport!”
He falls forward onto his knees and shuffles across the bare floor until he is in front the table. He takes ahold of the television’s cord and gives it a yank until it falls to the floor with a crash. He picks up the screen and stares at it.
Stares at the large Japanese man.
Stares at the man with the bright white hair.
Stares at the man with Lacklanlander Blue eyes.
A haze rises.
The heat of Texas is overwhelming.
A decrepit apartment, the door lined with locks, the lone window cracked and fixed with tape.
A bare floor, several empty rum containers scattered about.
A lone table holding an old television set, the rabbit’s ears of an antenna pointing at 12 and 3.
A guitar leaning against a corner, the only thing in the room holding any life or color.
A mattress upon the floor, stained and with springs so worn that they hold no spring.
A man in black sitting upon the mattress, his head in his hands.
Graying hair and beard, both shaggy. In need of a barber’s care.
Marble blue eyes.
Filled with death.
***THE FOLLOWING IS AN XPRESS FIGHTING SYSTEMS PROMOTIONAL VIDEO***
“The world of puro is SICK, ladies and gentlemen! It has an AILMENT! It is inflicted with a MALADY! But do not fear! Do not fret! Because I, Alan Cunningham, have the CURE! I have what you NEED! I can give you the ANTIBODIES! I can give you the VACCINATION!”
Only despair.
Only death.
His eyes move up towards the television as a flash of the green catches them, but they stare in with a dullness only depression can bring. He sees without seeing as the small man slaps the shoulder of the man next to him. He doesn’t register as the camera moves up...and up...and up to take in the man.
The man in black on the mattress blinks in confusion.
“...what?”
“THIS man is the CURE for the ails of puro! THIS man is what the entire WORLD needs! THIS man is the answer to the question!”
He blinks again and again, the light finally coming to his eyes, as finally focuses on the promotional video playing on his television. They finally focus on the giant of a man next to the man in the ugly suit. The Japanese man was tall and strong, with shoulders broad in both width and girth. Bright white hair makes him blink, the contrast startling.
And the eyes.
He knows those eyes.
“...my God…”
“This MAN. This MONSTER. This...dare I say it...MOUNTAIN! And because of THIS mountain, the ills of puro WILL be cured! NO MORE! Will you have to deal with the owners of wrestling companies squabbling over who has the largest chinchin. NO MORE! Will you have to deal with the so-called ‘champions’ who get off on having their name on a piece of paper but run away and hide, pissing their pants, when a REAL challenge stands in their way. NO MORE! Will you have to deal with shelling out your hard-earned money to watch illiterate hillbillies stall for thirty minutes before they swing their fists one time and get gassed out. NO MORE! Will you have to deal with little man-children wearing their underwear on their heads and thinking they are superheros. Because the CURE for puro is THIS man, ladies and gentlemen, and he is READY to be the FACE of YOUR sport!”
He falls forward onto his knees and shuffles across the bare floor until he is in front the table. He takes ahold of the television’s cord and gives it a yank until it falls to the floor with a crash. He picks up the screen and stares at it.
Stares at the large Japanese man.
Stares at the man with the bright white hair.
Stares at the man with Lacklanlander Blue eyes.