Post by Next Generation on Feb 25, 2007 17:51:44 GMT -5
Fade in. A close-up on Sakai's face.
Sakai: (in Japanese) Thomas, my poor, misguided friend. You've taken my words of wisdom and turned them into a foolish, misplaced hate. I look into your eyes, and I see so much wasted talent - so much rage, but all for what? We defeated you - not a pair of rookies, two men who have wrestled around the world - and it turns you to rage? It should turn you to DESIRE. But, wait. You seem to have much desire. You seem fueled by it, even. Perhaps, a little too much.
You dare mock the heavens and call yourself God? Greater than the warrior, even? I admit, it is not a war that makes one great. But to be like God? Impossible. For you, for even the greatest competitors in the world. Your beliefes seem to outdistance your talents by great lengths. To be determined is one thing - to be arrogant is another. No man ever go to where he was headed by merely saying he would. No man one a match by telling his opponent how much greater he is. We can only go by what we have done in the past.
But fear not, there's hope for you yet. You realize the talent you're about to face. You're ready for that element of the match, I'm sure. But...there's a problem, isn't there? You only want to inflict pain. I assure you, I won't forget your claims of hearing my pained screams when I finish you Tuesday Night. Words like that are a slap in my face. For your few redeeming qualities, you're still the beast you claim to have evolved from.
Tuesday Night Fights won't mark the beginning of the turnaround for the Foundation. A team divided can not stand. A man more at war with himself, such as you Thomas, is not ready for the in-ring warfare that I promise to bring you. You will lose, Thomas. My death will indeed be honorable - years from now, when I'm old and gray, the heavens will call me home. But Tuesday?
The camera pans out, revealing that Sakai has been holding an elevated wall-split the entire time. His head is just below the ceiling!
Sakai: (in Japanese) Tuesday Night, Santiago and I return to the path we are destined for. Your way has more twists and turns, and perhaps one day you too will reign supreme as champion. But not on our watch.
CUT TO
Santiago is in the ring sparring with a big, brusing heavyweight. He slides in between his legs, grabs one of his arms and before you can blink he has him trapped in a La Magistral. One, two, three. The defeated opponent slams his fist down on the mat and rolls under the bottom rope.
Santiago: El igual bueno, el amigo.
CUT TO
Santiago in the locker room, still in ring attire. Beads of sweat run down his body.
Santiago: Nuestro primer igual del regreso en Nueva Lucha de Profesional de Alberta. Una vez más, nosotros tomaremos la Base Real. Los Jóvenes de Thomas son determinados. El príncipe Darko quiere nuestra sangre. Y cuando un fondo, los campeonatos por equipos de Etiqueta asoman. Sólo unas pocas semanas lejos - nosotros no debemos vacilar ahora. Nosotros no podemos proporcionar otra pérdida - debemos cruzar ese puente. Ningunos obstáculos pueden impedir el paso. Tan determinado como nuestros adversarios son, tenemos más determinación. Las personas dicen que soy todo corazón. (laughs) Bien, querría pensar que soy algún talento también. Pero, supuse que ellos tienen razón. Yo no soy uno acostarse a ningún hombre, por grande que y fuerte. Dure encontramos Thomas, usted me ridiculizó. Usted llevó una máscara de luchador, un símbolo sagrado en el libre de lucha. Algo usted no podría entender posiblemente, fuera de tanto de la ignorancia como la arrogancia. Yo no me he olvidado. Necesito no motivo exterior, pero yo no puedo ser disuadido una vez alguien ha hecho el error de darme una razón para levantarse a alturas más grande. Y si o no usted está arrepentido para ello ahora, yo no cuido. Usted pagará con otra pérdida.
Santiago: ¿Usted quiere llamarle Dios, Thomas? ¿Usted piensa que usted ha sobrepasado la posición de "perdedor" que usted usted mismo marcada la Base con, el Príncipe Darko? Demuéstrelo. Golpéenos, y se calló las voces que llaman fuerte en sus cabezas - su propio.
He makes the sign of the cross, and we fade to black.
Sakai: (in Japanese) Thomas, my poor, misguided friend. You've taken my words of wisdom and turned them into a foolish, misplaced hate. I look into your eyes, and I see so much wasted talent - so much rage, but all for what? We defeated you - not a pair of rookies, two men who have wrestled around the world - and it turns you to rage? It should turn you to DESIRE. But, wait. You seem to have much desire. You seem fueled by it, even. Perhaps, a little too much.
You dare mock the heavens and call yourself God? Greater than the warrior, even? I admit, it is not a war that makes one great. But to be like God? Impossible. For you, for even the greatest competitors in the world. Your beliefes seem to outdistance your talents by great lengths. To be determined is one thing - to be arrogant is another. No man ever go to where he was headed by merely saying he would. No man one a match by telling his opponent how much greater he is. We can only go by what we have done in the past.
But fear not, there's hope for you yet. You realize the talent you're about to face. You're ready for that element of the match, I'm sure. But...there's a problem, isn't there? You only want to inflict pain. I assure you, I won't forget your claims of hearing my pained screams when I finish you Tuesday Night. Words like that are a slap in my face. For your few redeeming qualities, you're still the beast you claim to have evolved from.
Tuesday Night Fights won't mark the beginning of the turnaround for the Foundation. A team divided can not stand. A man more at war with himself, such as you Thomas, is not ready for the in-ring warfare that I promise to bring you. You will lose, Thomas. My death will indeed be honorable - years from now, when I'm old and gray, the heavens will call me home. But Tuesday?
The camera pans out, revealing that Sakai has been holding an elevated wall-split the entire time. His head is just below the ceiling!
Sakai: (in Japanese) Tuesday Night, Santiago and I return to the path we are destined for. Your way has more twists and turns, and perhaps one day you too will reign supreme as champion. But not on our watch.
CUT TO
Santiago is in the ring sparring with a big, brusing heavyweight. He slides in between his legs, grabs one of his arms and before you can blink he has him trapped in a La Magistral. One, two, three. The defeated opponent slams his fist down on the mat and rolls under the bottom rope.
Santiago: El igual bueno, el amigo.
CUT TO
Santiago in the locker room, still in ring attire. Beads of sweat run down his body.
Santiago: Nuestro primer igual del regreso en Nueva Lucha de Profesional de Alberta. Una vez más, nosotros tomaremos la Base Real. Los Jóvenes de Thomas son determinados. El príncipe Darko quiere nuestra sangre. Y cuando un fondo, los campeonatos por equipos de Etiqueta asoman. Sólo unas pocas semanas lejos - nosotros no debemos vacilar ahora. Nosotros no podemos proporcionar otra pérdida - debemos cruzar ese puente. Ningunos obstáculos pueden impedir el paso. Tan determinado como nuestros adversarios son, tenemos más determinación. Las personas dicen que soy todo corazón. (laughs) Bien, querría pensar que soy algún talento también. Pero, supuse que ellos tienen razón. Yo no soy uno acostarse a ningún hombre, por grande que y fuerte. Dure encontramos Thomas, usted me ridiculizó. Usted llevó una máscara de luchador, un símbolo sagrado en el libre de lucha. Algo usted no podría entender posiblemente, fuera de tanto de la ignorancia como la arrogancia. Yo no me he olvidado. Necesito no motivo exterior, pero yo no puedo ser disuadido una vez alguien ha hecho el error de darme una razón para levantarse a alturas más grande. Y si o no usted está arrepentido para ello ahora, yo no cuido. Usted pagará con otra pérdida.
Santiago: ¿Usted quiere llamarle Dios, Thomas? ¿Usted piensa que usted ha sobrepasado la posición de "perdedor" que usted usted mismo marcada la Base con, el Príncipe Darko? Demuéstrelo. Golpéenos, y se calló las voces que llaman fuerte en sus cabezas - su propio.
He makes the sign of the cross, and we fade to black.