Post by Nyeo Son on Jan 28, 2018 18:21:51 GMT
Namjoon Kim Streamed live at 18:11 EST 28/01/2018
The video shows Namjoon -in portrait mode, because in addition to being a member of the inner circle to the heir of an international crime syndicate, he is also an absolute monster- lounging back in one of the black couches in Nyeos apartment. A glass of clear liquid is in his hand, but judging from the slight tightening of his face as he takes a sips, it’s probably not water.
“Greetings internet, aspiring H.S.S mobsters, and -I suppose- New Blood Wrestling fans! ‘tis I, ever loyal right hand to the newest sensation sweeping… well every single nation, I hope… KIM! NAMJOON!” The young man's voice is free of any accent, speaking English like a native. “I’m sure you’ll all be very dissapointed to hear that Nyeo-hyung won’t be joining me for this stream, but he’s off on official business, the exact nature of which I shall refrain from elaborating on; let us just say that someone close to the family decided to take something from Nyeo’s father, who sent his, ever prodigal, son to exchange some words with him…” Namjoon takes another sip from his glass, giggling in an not entirely dignified manner. “Those words probably being a number of expletives, followed by a single ‘bang’.”
“You’re probably wondering why I’m telling you all this.” He straightens up, leaving the broadcasting phone propped up on the coffee table in front of him so that it shows his entire, slender figure; enhanced by a pair of black pants and a white dress shirt, but sitting well enough that they’re probably tailored. “It’s simple, I’m showing you all that the Son family are not strangers to temporary setback and failure, however they have never accepted defeat, no matter the bloodshed they need to cause, they always make sure that whoever humiliated them -because yes, that is what you did, Specter, because I’m talking about you, your little piece of luck with how you pulled Nyeo from the turnbuckle was a humiliation- but a Son gives those a new home, six feet deep.”
“It has dawned on me that all of the Son family’s enemies makes one fatal mistake, one they would know not to make if they were well read.” He picks from the table a small, leather bound book. “This here, is ‘The Prince’ by Machiavelli, it is a book that is rightly feared, as a great many conquerors have taken inspiration from it. However, if you read it you will find much good advice about how to rise to the top in whatever endeavor you have, and here is where you failed, Specter.”
He opens the book to a page marked with a small, red, velvet band and reads. “‘..However, one has to remark that men ought either to be well treated or crushed because they can revenge themselves of lighter injuries, but of more serious ones they cannot. Therefore the injury that is to be done to someone ought to be of such a kind that one does not stand in fear of revenge.’” He reads the passage in a grave tone. “Now I don’t think you stupid, Specter; you simply don’t seem to realize that game that Nyeo is playing, you see yourself as an honorable fighter, and those in the ring with you as fellow competitors, but Nyeo sees beyond that, he sees himself as the rightful heir, not just to H.S.S, but to anything he wants, and he sees those in the ring with him, including you, either obstacles to conquered and then destroyed, or as pawns to be controlled.”
He looks at the phone with a mean grin. “Speaking of pawns, hello there, Mr. Aquarius. Because of your accent, which is much like the one I have when I speak Korean, the others have enjoyed comparing you to me. This is on the surface not a terrible comparison, we’re both thugs who found ourselves in the use of Nyeo-hyung. There is, however, one major difference; because of your lack of respect and loyalty, you are no longer useful to him. That might not sound like enough to disqualify the comparison, but it does, because it means that there are two people whom you are far more similar to.”
He looks away from the phone, out of the window, a smile on his face that is hard to read. “I wasn’t alone when Nyeo found me on the streets of Goyang, I had been hanging out with 2 other boys my age, we’d been running small scale rackets, robbing some smaller stands, making a living. Nyeo was in the city on some business when he happened upon us. My friends didn’t take too kindly to his disdainful tone and a fight broke out. He took out all three of us on his own, the other six who were already in his posse looking on with amused smiles, so when he offered us a place at his table afterwards, we leapt at the chance, as you should have, Andre.” His voice is harsh, judging. “But my friends never got over the fact that Nyeo got his position by birthright, they kept questioning him, challenging his authority. Then one day the three of us were called to an H.S.S warehouse, it was the same as the day we met him, he beat us until we couldn’t stand, but this time it wasn’t just his friends watching, but his father and uncles too, when it was over, he handed me a knife and told me that I had a choice, leave with my friends and go back to where we came from, or kill them and join him… He knew what I’d choose, and I think my friends did too…”
“I tell you this, Andre, because your arrogance was a liability even when you tagged with Nyeo, now that you’re competing against each other, you are a worthless piece on the board, and he hates worthless pieces, they so often turn into obstacles.”
He throws his glass back, growling at the burn in his throat, before speaking again, this time to noone in particular. “I’m going to enjoy watching this match, now that Nyeo has no one he needs to prove their loyalty, he gets the pleasure all to himself, despite the raving fans getting their fill of blood, I think he’ll be having the most fun in the entire arena.”
The video shows Namjoon -in portrait mode, because in addition to being a member of the inner circle to the heir of an international crime syndicate, he is also an absolute monster- lounging back in one of the black couches in Nyeos apartment. A glass of clear liquid is in his hand, but judging from the slight tightening of his face as he takes a sips, it’s probably not water.
“Greetings internet, aspiring H.S.S mobsters, and -I suppose- New Blood Wrestling fans! ‘tis I, ever loyal right hand to the newest sensation sweeping… well every single nation, I hope… KIM! NAMJOON!” The young man's voice is free of any accent, speaking English like a native. “I’m sure you’ll all be very dissapointed to hear that Nyeo-hyung won’t be joining me for this stream, but he’s off on official business, the exact nature of which I shall refrain from elaborating on; let us just say that someone close to the family decided to take something from Nyeo’s father, who sent his, ever prodigal, son to exchange some words with him…” Namjoon takes another sip from his glass, giggling in an not entirely dignified manner. “Those words probably being a number of expletives, followed by a single ‘bang’.”
“You’re probably wondering why I’m telling you all this.” He straightens up, leaving the broadcasting phone propped up on the coffee table in front of him so that it shows his entire, slender figure; enhanced by a pair of black pants and a white dress shirt, but sitting well enough that they’re probably tailored. “It’s simple, I’m showing you all that the Son family are not strangers to temporary setback and failure, however they have never accepted defeat, no matter the bloodshed they need to cause, they always make sure that whoever humiliated them -because yes, that is what you did, Specter, because I’m talking about you, your little piece of luck with how you pulled Nyeo from the turnbuckle was a humiliation- but a Son gives those a new home, six feet deep.”
“It has dawned on me that all of the Son family’s enemies makes one fatal mistake, one they would know not to make if they were well read.” He picks from the table a small, leather bound book. “This here, is ‘The Prince’ by Machiavelli, it is a book that is rightly feared, as a great many conquerors have taken inspiration from it. However, if you read it you will find much good advice about how to rise to the top in whatever endeavor you have, and here is where you failed, Specter.”
He opens the book to a page marked with a small, red, velvet band and reads. “‘..However, one has to remark that men ought either to be well treated or crushed because they can revenge themselves of lighter injuries, but of more serious ones they cannot. Therefore the injury that is to be done to someone ought to be of such a kind that one does not stand in fear of revenge.’” He reads the passage in a grave tone. “Now I don’t think you stupid, Specter; you simply don’t seem to realize that game that Nyeo is playing, you see yourself as an honorable fighter, and those in the ring with you as fellow competitors, but Nyeo sees beyond that, he sees himself as the rightful heir, not just to H.S.S, but to anything he wants, and he sees those in the ring with him, including you, either obstacles to conquered and then destroyed, or as pawns to be controlled.”
He looks at the phone with a mean grin. “Speaking of pawns, hello there, Mr. Aquarius. Because of your accent, which is much like the one I have when I speak Korean, the others have enjoyed comparing you to me. This is on the surface not a terrible comparison, we’re both thugs who found ourselves in the use of Nyeo-hyung. There is, however, one major difference; because of your lack of respect and loyalty, you are no longer useful to him. That might not sound like enough to disqualify the comparison, but it does, because it means that there are two people whom you are far more similar to.”
He looks away from the phone, out of the window, a smile on his face that is hard to read. “I wasn’t alone when Nyeo found me on the streets of Goyang, I had been hanging out with 2 other boys my age, we’d been running small scale rackets, robbing some smaller stands, making a living. Nyeo was in the city on some business when he happened upon us. My friends didn’t take too kindly to his disdainful tone and a fight broke out. He took out all three of us on his own, the other six who were already in his posse looking on with amused smiles, so when he offered us a place at his table afterwards, we leapt at the chance, as you should have, Andre.” His voice is harsh, judging. “But my friends never got over the fact that Nyeo got his position by birthright, they kept questioning him, challenging his authority. Then one day the three of us were called to an H.S.S warehouse, it was the same as the day we met him, he beat us until we couldn’t stand, but this time it wasn’t just his friends watching, but his father and uncles too, when it was over, he handed me a knife and told me that I had a choice, leave with my friends and go back to where we came from, or kill them and join him… He knew what I’d choose, and I think my friends did too…”
“I tell you this, Andre, because your arrogance was a liability even when you tagged with Nyeo, now that you’re competing against each other, you are a worthless piece on the board, and he hates worthless pieces, they so often turn into obstacles.”
He throws his glass back, growling at the burn in his throat, before speaking again, this time to noone in particular. “I’m going to enjoy watching this match, now that Nyeo has no one he needs to prove their loyalty, he gets the pleasure all to himself, despite the raving fans getting their fill of blood, I think he’ll be having the most fun in the entire arena.”